Beyond Fear

Luna still had nightmares every night. Every morning, she woke up sweaty and curled up. It took her some time to convince herself she was no longer at the Manor, that she was safe. Then she would place her hand on her small, slightly firm stomach, and it was like a ray of sunshine piercing through the darkness.

This morning, she felt particularly tired and vulnerable. She wondered if pregnancy hormones were already at work, but deep down, she knew it was because Harry had told the Weasleys everything the night before. She felt so exposed and small, even though she knew it was the right thing to do and that Harry deserved to explain everything to his only family.

It reminded her of how utterly alone she was. Her father had abandoned her, leaving her alone in a house full of white walls and painful memories.

Once again, she placed her hand lovingly on her stomach, reminding herself she wasn’t entirely alone—that she never would be again. This brought her a sliver of comfort, and she decided to get up and make breakfast.

As she put the coffee on, the doorbell rang. She wasn’t expecting anyone today.

When she opened the door, she was greeted by a collection of plants and a smiling Neville standing behind them. Before either of them could say a word, the smell of coffee wafted through the house, and Luna immediately doubled over and vomited onto her friend’s shoes.

Neville was shocked, and Luna was mortified. She rushed to turn off the coffee and throw it away. It was the first time she’d felt nauseous from anything, but she had already known this might happen.

“Luna, are you alright? Do you need to see a healer? I can take you,” Neville said, his concerned voice coming from the doorway. When Luna returned, he had set the plants down and was using a cleaning charm on his shoes.

“I’m not sick, Neville, but I probably should see a healer.” The last part she muttered as a late realization. With all the chaos of the war and rebuilding her home, she hadn’t thought about consulting a healer to check on the baby.

This thought sent her into a whirlwind of emotions.

My God! Was the baby okay?

She felt like a terrible mother. She didn’t know how to be one—she’d barely had one herself!

She was only 17 years old. What was she going to do? She didn’t know how to care for a baby.

Her eyes filled with tears, and she started to hyperventilate.

She was going to be a disaster. Her baby was going to hate her.

Amid the haze, she heard Neville’s soft and distant voice.

“Luna… breathe,” he said gently, leading her to the couch and sitting beside her, holding her hand. “Come on, look at me and breathe. You’re okay.”

She looked at him and began breathing slowly, grounding herself in the feel of his hands holding hers until her breathing steadied. She had never been so grateful for Neville showing up at her door.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on? Maybe we can figure it out together,” he said, his voice still soft to avoid startling her.

Luna looked at him—her old friend from Hogwarts, always kind and shy—not so shy now—loyal and strong. They had endured so much together under the Carrows. She suddenly wanted to tell him everything. She needed a friend. Even though Harry was her best friend, he was also now the father of her child, and that was making her feel conflicted.

So, she curled up on the couch, still holding Neville’s hand, and told him everything while crying. When she finished, he simply asked if he could hug her, and she nodded. They sat there on the couch, embraced, as she silently cried once more. Amid the pain, there was a hint of relief in having her friend there.

When she calmed down, Neville’s voice brought her back to the present.

“Do you know what we should do?”

“What?” she asked, confused.

“Fix up that garden! It’s a mess, and I brought some amazing plants.”

She started laughing.

“That’s a great idea.”

She got up from the couch. It was better to start right away. She had always loved gardening—it was something she used to do with her mother, and it had always calmed her over the years.

After having breakfast together, they got their hands dirty in the soil. Neville then spoke with an unusual seriousness.

“It’s good Malfoy is dead because I’d kill him right now.”

She continued looking at her dirty hands. Despite the nightmares, waking up and remembering that he was dead was a relief. And sometimes, that relief made her feel like a cruel person. Luna had so many conflicting feelings, and they were making her feel even more unwell.

“Neville, I’m your friend. You can count on me for anything. You’re not alone.”

She looked into his sincere and determined expression and didn’t doubt it. It was good to have a friend nearby—a family.

“Thank you, Nev,” was all she could say.

“I know Harry will be a great father, but I’m here for you and the baby.”

She felt the weight in her chest lighten.

After that, they continued tending the garden and laughing about Neville’s embarrassing stories from Hogwarts. Occasionally, she noticed her own laughter and was amazed she could still smile genuinely. There had been a moment in the past months when she thought she had lost that ability. So, she savored the moment and smiled as if nothing in the world had ever hurt her.

That’s how Harry found them that morning.

Harry woke up early and decided he would visit Luna. He wanted to check on her, even though it had only been a day since he last saw her. He also wanted to share how his conversation with the Weasleys had gone. And, of course, he couldn’t entirely avoid the subject of Ginny.

After taking a quick shower, Harry decided to leave before anyone else woke up. He wanted to see Luna alone. However, as he approached her house, he was surprised to hear voices and laughter coming from the back of the house. The sound intrigued him; he hadn’t expected anyone to be awake, let alone in such high spirits so early.

Walking quietly, he followed the sounds and came upon an unexpected sight.

Luna, still in her pajamas, was covered in dirt, her hair a wild mess, her cheeks flushed, and she was laughing—a bright, uninhibited laugh that seemed to light up the entire garden. The sight nearly stopped Harry’s heart. She looked so beautiful, so carefree, as though none of the terrible things in her life had ever happened. Seeing her so happy filled his chest with warmth.

Then, a masculine laugh joined hers, and Harry’s eyes darted to the source.

Neville was a few steps ahead, kneeling among the weeds, just as dirty and smiling as brightly as Luna.

For a brief moment, Harry felt an unfamiliar pang of something he couldn’t quite name.

What is Neville doing here? His brow furrowed.

Then another thought struck him, unbidden and irrational.

It should be me making her laugh like that.

He shook his head, confused by his own feelings.

“Oh, hello, Harry! What brings you here?” Luna’s voice broke his thoughts. She had spotted him standing awkwardly on the path, staring at them.

“Hi, Harry, good to see you!” Neville’s usual friendly tone reached him as well.

“Uh, hi,” Harry replied, feeling strangely self-conscious. “I thought I’d drop by for coffee and a chat… check how you’re doing.”

“I’d advise against mentioning the word ‘coffee’ around her,” Neville said with a playful grimace, gesturing toward Luna.

They both burst into laughter again, clearly sharing an inside joke that left Harry feeling slightly out of place. He hadn’t even known they had inside jokes. And what was this about coffee?

“What do you mean? Luna loves coffee,” Harry said, his confusion evident.

Luna responded this time, her voice calm but tinged with embarrassment.

“Well, let’s just say that this morning, when Nev showed up, I was making coffee. But when I opened the door, the smell hit me, and I ended up vomiting on his shoes.” She made a face. “It was awful. Sorry again, Nev,” she added with a small smile.

Harry’s heart plummeted into his stomach. Panic surged through him.

“You’re okay, right? What happened? Do we need to see a healer? And the b—” He caught himself before saying “baby” and glanced at Neville, who was watching the exchange with mild curiosity.

“It’s alright, Harry. I’ve told Neville everything. He knows about the baby.” Luna’s soft smile reassured him.

Neville nodded, and his expression made it clear that he didn’t just know about the baby but also about everything else Luna had endured. That realization shocked Harry. He hadn’t expected Luna to confide in Neville, though it was her story to tell.

“Oh… I see,” was all Harry managed to say.

“It was just nausea from the coffee smell, which can happen during pregnancy,” Luna explained. “But about the healer… I should probably schedule an appointment. I hadn’t thought of it before,” she admitted, her tone tinged with regret.

“Of course! Let’s schedule it, and I’ll go with you,” Harry said, guilt welling up for not having thought about it sooner.

Neville interjected. “You can send an owl to St. Mungo’s to arrange a visit.”

“Good idea!” Harry said, glancing around. “Since there won’t be any coffee, can I help you two with this?” He gestured to the garden.

“Of course! We’re trying to revive it,” Luna said, her enthusiasm evident.

Harry joined them, and before long, he found himself engrossed in the work, sharing stories, and even laughing.

They later had lunch together before Neville left for a prior engagement with his grandmother.

Now alone, Harry and Luna sat in the kitchen, sipping tea.

“How was it yesterday?” Luna asked cautiously, an unusual apprehension in her voice.

“It went well! They were a bit shocked at first, but it was easier than I thought,” Harry said, smiling. She returned the smile, looking relieved. “Hermione’s already researching everything about babies, and Molly’s decided she’s officially a grandmother. She even wants to add the baby to the family clock.”

Luna’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as her hand instinctively rested on her stomach.

“That’s good, Harry. Hermione’s research will be helpful, and… we’ll have to hope I don’t vomit when Molly starts feeding me too much,” she joked softly.

They both chuckled at the thought.

“And Ginny? How was she?” Luna’s tone was neutral, her face unreadable as she asked.

“Er… it was harder, but we’re fine now. Everything’s okay. We’re together,” Harry said, though the words tasted bitter as he spoke them. It felt wrong to tell Luna—the mother of his child—that he was dating someone else, especially Ginny. And it felt even worse to tell Luna, specifically.

She showed no reaction, her voice as detached as if she were commenting on the weather.

“Congratulations, Harry. You deserve to be happy. I’m glad I didn’t ruin things for you two.”

She stood and began clearing the dishes, her back to him. Harry stared at her, trying to make sense of the disappointment swelling in his chest at her apparent indifference.

After sending a letter to St. Mungo’s, Harry decided to return to the Burrow.

As soon as Harry stepped into the Burrow’s garden, Ginny was waiting for him, sitting on a bench, her expression thunderous.

“Where have you been all this time?” she demanded, her voice sharp and accusatory. Harry was taken aback by her tone.

“Hi, Gin,” he said cautiously. “I went to see Luna.”

That seemed to worsen her mood.

“What?! You went to see her and didn’t even tell me?” she said, indignant.

“I just wanted to check on her. Neville was there helping her with the garden, so I stayed to help too, and we had lunch together,” he explained casually, though her reaction was beginning to bother him.

Ginny seemed to calm slightly at the mention of Neville. She stood and approached him, wrapping her arms around him tightly. Her kiss was hard and passionate, as always, momentarily sweeping away his discomfort about her earlier behavior.

When the kiss ended, she remained close, her body pressed against his, and began to speak.

“Harry, this situation is so hard. I think we should start spending more time together, just the two of us. We’ve never really had that chance before.”

She had a point.

“Alright, Gin. How about we spend a day in Muggle London? We can go out in the morning and have lunch together,” he suggested, unsure if it would please her, since he’d never planned dates beyond Hogsmeade trips.

She smiled, clearly delighted. “That sounds perfect, Harry. How about Friday?”

“Sure,” he said, smiling back.

They spent the rest of the afternoon kissing in the garden and talking about Quidditch.

That evening, as everyone gathered for dinner, Arthur interrupted the quiet chatter.

“There will be a Ministry ball next month, in honor of those who died in the war,” he announced, his voice heavy with emotion. Molly let a tear slip down her cheek. “We’ll all receive invitations tomorrow.”

The news cast a solemn mood over the rest of the meal. Harry, who despised such events, began wondering if there was any way to avoid attending, though he knew it was unlikely they’d allow the boy who defeated Voldemort to skip it.