Chapter 8
Luna was sitting on her couch, accompanied by a cup of tea and a book on motherhood that she wasn’t actually reading.
It was another sleepless night for her. Her nightmares were constant, but there were also moments when she didn’t even need to sleep for the nightmare to invade her mind.
It was already August. The war had ended, her house was rebuilt, its walls were filled with colorful drawings, and her belly was bigger than she had expected. But still, the panic triggered by memories that struck her without warning remained as intense as it was when she was at Malfoy Manor.
Luna felt exhausted (and not just because she slept poorly). She wondered when the pain would diminish, when a dark corner of her house would stop causing her panic.
The memories of Malfoy Manor would surface uninvited, like dark specters. She tried to push them away, but the pain and shame were relentless. The cold walls. The cruel faces. The sound of her own screams that no one came to save.
The words of her mental healer echoed in her mind, an attempt to break the cycle of darkness:
“You are more than what happened to you. Your pain doesn’t define who you are. The love you give and receive is your answer to what they tried to take from you.”
Luna closed her eyes, breathing deeply, trying to follow the healer's advice to "anchor herself in the present." She touched her belly again.
“You are my present,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “You are proof that the world can still be good.”
But even as she said it, tears began to fall, hot and silent. There was an emptiness in her chest that seemed inescapable.
Her gaze drifted to the window, where moonlight outlined the shapes of the trees. The pain of carrying her father’s abandonment, the violence she had endured, and the constant doubt of not being enough weighed on her shoulders.
Then she remembered the little things. Neville laughing with her as they tended the garden. Hermione discussing books on babies. Ron making jokes. Harry’s expression when he handed over the baby supplies he had bought.
Those moments were like a fine but resilient thread holding her in the midst of chaos.
Luna looked down at her belly and wiped the tears away with the corner of her blanket. The pain was still there, but so was something else. Something fragile yet growing inside her, as delicate as the small heart beating within her: hope.
“I’ll find a way to give you the best,” she murmured, running her hand over her belly. Before falling asleep, she allowed herself to believe she could do it. Not because she was alone, but because, for the first time in a long while, she knew she didn’t have to carry everything on her own.
By mid-August, the Ministry held a ball in honor of all those who had died in the battle. Harry, Hermione, and all the Weasleys were ready to step through the Floo Network, everyone silent because they knew Fred was among those being honored. Harry wore a black tuxedo with a green handkerchief that matched Ginny’s dress (her demand). She looked stunning in her single-strap gown that reached the floor, her hair pinned up, and her makeup perfectly applied. Her beauty still amazed Harry, though he found her quite unattractive during their arguments—which happened more often than he cared to admit.
Harry hated the idea of attending a ball where everyone would fawn over him, where cameras would follow him, but he supposed it would be rude not to go. He envied Luna for choosing not to attend, though he thought it would be easier to survive the night if she were there.
The ball was crowded, with everyone mingling and chatting cheerfully. The dance floor was packed, and Harry saw Hermione, in her pink dress, dancing in Ron’s arms as he concentrated on not stepping on her feet. Beside him, Ginny clutched his arm while Harry tried to focus on a conversation with someone he had never met. Finally freed, Ginny decided to drag him to the dance floor.
“Come on, Harry, let’s dance a bit. Listening to all these people is a waste of time.”
“Ginny, you know I don’t dance,” he tried to argue.
“Harry, I’m not spending the night standing in a corner with you. Tonight, you’re going to dance.” She pulled him to the floor.
For a second, Harry remembered another party and another person with silvery eyes who hadn’t forced him to dance but had helped him escape the sycophants and laugh most of the night.
They walked over to Ron and Hermione and started dancing. Thank Merlin it was a slow song. Harry was trying to focus on not stepping on Ginny’s feet when he heard Hermione say:
“Wow, I didn’t know Luna was coming. She looks stunning!”
Harry immediately searched for the person Hermione was talking about, still in disbelief since Luna herself had said she wouldn’t come. However, the sight that met his eyes made his heart stop. Luna was wearing a silver-blue dress with thin straps that hugged her figure. Her pregnant belly was evident, though not very large, and when she turned, her back was completely bare. She stood beside Neville, walking toward the dance floor. The entire room seemed to pause to look at her. She was perfect. Magnificent. Her almost-white blonde hair shone in the candlelight. She looked like a fairy stepping out of a painting.
When Harry saw Neville’s hand on her back, he had to resist the urge to hex him right there. The feeling of jealousy and possessiveness was something he couldn’t control.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her or that hand on her back.
He felt an overwhelming desire to run his hand over her smooth skin that he knew was soft. He wanted to place his hand on her round belly and tell everyone that it was his child there.
Harry was pulled from his wandering thoughts only when he stepped on Ginny’s foot and realized he had been entirely focused on Luna instead of his girlfriend in his arms. He cursed himself internally for his thoughts, utterly confused about where they had come from.
She was just a friend. Only a friend. But no matter how hard he tried, the primal sense of possessiveness wouldn’t go away.
Harry felt ashamed of his feelings. He had chosen Ginny; it wasn’t right to have any sense of ownership over Luna. First, because she wasn’t his, and second, because she deserved to be loved. And third, because he didn’t have that kind of feeling for her. She was just his friend.
Even so, his eyes sought her out with every step of the dance. He looked at her smile, at how animatedly she spoke, as if nothing terrible had ever happened to her despite all she had been through.
When the song ended, Harry felt torn about whether to go over and talk to them. Ginny wouldn’t like it, but he couldn’t suppress the urge to approach.
He informed Ginny that he was going to talk to Neville, but her expression made it clear she knew he wanted to talk to Luna. Before he could think about leaving Ginny alone on the dance floor, he was already walking toward the pair ahead of him.
“I thought you weren’t coming,” he tried to sound casual, but the irritation in his voice was evident. He attempted to smile to appear friendly.
“Oh, hello, Harry! Neville convinced me to come. He said I could have a little fun,” she replied openly, so innocent and unaware of the men in the room who couldn’t stop staring at her.
A slow song began to play again.
“May I have this dance?” Harry glanced at Neville for a moment, seeing him smile and remove his hand from Luna.
“Of course, but where’s Ginny?” Luna asked innocently, and guilt washed over Harry.
“I don’t know. She might have gone to get a drink,” he supposed.
Luna stepped closer, placing her hands on his shoulders while he put his hands on her waist, feeling her swollen belly.
“You look absolutely beautiful, Luna,” he couldn’t help but say, noticing the blush spreading across her cheeks.
“Thank you, Harry. You look great too,” she replied sweetly, and her smile sent his mind into chaos.
"Your belly is already so big, it’s grown a lot in the past few days. It looks beautiful," he said, gently stroking her belly with his thumbs.
"Yes, it’s grown much more than I expected. Maybe it’s all the food you all keep making me eat. Even Molly has been sending me food."
"We’re just following doctor’s orders," he said with a wink, fully aware that Molly was sending enough food to feed an army.
As they fell silent, swaying to the rhythm of the music, Harry noticed how close their bodies were. Her belly touched him, and her breasts were almost brushing against his chest (he had to admit they looked larger than he remembered—not that he was staring). The warmth of her body was comforting, and her strawberry scent surrounded him. He wanted to pull her fully into his arms, but he knew he couldn’t do that in public.
In fact, he reminded himself, he couldn’t do that at all. They were just friends.
Every confusing emotion filled him with guilt. He tried to justify it by thinking his interest was solely for the baby and that he was merely admiring the beauty of a friend, but the guilt lingered.
The night passed in a blur as Harry struggled not to look at Luna every chance he got, but he failed. It wasn’t until Hermione gave him a knowing look that said, "I see what you’re doing," that he decided to focus on Ginny, who hadn’t left his side since her dance with Luna. But when he tried to pay attention to her, Harry realized she was quieter than usual, appearing deep in thought.
After dinner, Luna announced she was heading home, claiming she’d been feeling unusually sleepy lately—a clear sign of her pregnancy. Neville offered to escort her, but she insisted she was fine on her own. Harry couldn’t help but feel a mixture of relief and disappointment at her departure.
The others went back to mingling and dancing. Harry was thankful when Ginny didn’t try to make him dance again. Instead, she took his hand and started leading him away.
"Where are we going, Ginny?" Harry tried to stop, but her grip on his hand was firm.
"You’ll see," was all she said. As they neared the fireplaces by the exit, Harry spoke again.
"Ginny, we didn’t tell anyone where we’re going. What are you thinking?" He was confused now.
"Trust me; they’ll figure out we left later."
With that, she pulled him into the fireplace, and moments later, they emerged in the Burrow’s living room. Before Harry could question her, she threw herself into his arms and kissed him like her life depended on it. She pressed her body against his, and he could feel every curve. When she paused to breathe, he asked again.
"Ginny, why are we here without everyone else?"
She grabbed his hand again, leading him upstairs. They stopped in her room, and she closed the door. Harry began to suspect what she was planning but wasn’t sure it was a good idea.
"I want you, Harry," she said, her voice resolute and filled with desire. Before he could respond, she kissed him again, her hands roaming over his body. Harry, letting his instincts take over, ran his hands over her curves and squeezed her firm backside, making her moan into his mouth. She removed his blazer and began undoing his tie. When she started on the buttons of his shirt, he pulled back.
"Ginny, someone could come in and catch us," he said, breathing heavily, fully aware of how obvious his arousal was.
"No one will come in, Harry. Everyone’s still at the party." She began unzipping her dress.
"Ginny, this is an important decision and a special moment. Don’t you want to wait a little longer?" Harry didn’t want her to regret it, and everything felt so sudden and impulsive, almost desperate. She didn’t listen and slipped out of her dress, standing in front of Harry in just her bra and panties.
Harry realized the only woman he’d seen naked before was Luna, and even though Ginny wasn’t fully nude, he could tell her body was more muscular, while Luna’s was softer and smaller. Instantly, he caught himself making comparisons and scolded himself, noticing Ginny watching him.
"You’re beautiful, Ginny," he said truthfully. She was toned from Quidditch, and her ample chest spilled from the top of her bra.
"And what are you going to do about it, Harry?" she asked mischievously.
All of his self-control vanished with her playful smirk. Honestly, he was 18, and there was a woman undressing in front of him, offering herself. He could deal with the consequences later. Immediately, he walked over and pulled her into a kiss. One hand gripped her waist while the other pressed her against his arousal, making them both moan. He trailed kisses down her neck as he guided them toward the bed, causing her to fall onto her back when they reached it. Her eyes were dark, and her lips were red and swollen.
Just as Harry began undoing the first button of his shirt, a bright light flooded the room, and a hare stopped in front of him.
It was Luna’s Patronus.
"Harry, I need help," came Luna’s voice, laced with pain and desperation.
Harry’s blood ran cold.