It's almost dusk by the time Ginny turns the key in their always slightly-jammed lock and steps into their cozy flat, the home they've created together, piece by slow piece.

Luna, backlit by the setting sun, like an orange halo setting her hair alight, turns to her and smiles serenely. "Hullo, love. Did you get lost on the tube again?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Ginny grumbles, trudging inside and flopping into Luna's lap with a dignified huff.