He hung his cloak on the rack alongside Luna's, a little bit perplexed. It hadn't sounded like she'd understood what he had meant. Harry contemplated explaining himself as he followed her into the kitchen, but then thought better of it; why draw attention to the fact that he had just- that he had hurt her, if he wanted to keep spending time with her? If he didn't want to be exiled to solitude for the rest of his life, because no one could trust him. Of course, while he worked for the Ministry, it was the unfortunate truth; no one could trust him. Hell, he didn't much trust himself, either.
"Uhh," Harry said eloquently. "Water, maybe? Please." He had to remind himself that it was actually normal to feel this awkward around her this time, even though Luna seemed intent on ignoring what had happened. He couldn't. He wondered how she would feel, were the positions reversed. "Nice kitchen. What are those oven mitts supposed to be?" he asked, pointing at the pair dangling by the oven.