Chapter 35
The night dragged on, and the silence was absolute. Luna lay in her bed, her body heavy with exhaustion, her belly now enormous, and the ache in her back causing constant discomfort. Even so, sleep was impossible. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft shadows on the walls, but no light could reach the void she felt inside.
She ran her hands over her belly again, an automatic gesture meant to be comforting, but tonight it brought no solace. The twins seemed restless, their once gentle movements now more agitated, as if they were responding to her emotional turbulence.
What had she done?
Her eyes were dry—she had cried too many tears this year. Yet the pain persisted, like a wound that wouldn’t stop throbbing. She felt small, like a lost girl in a world far too big.
Harry was leaving. The words still echoed in her mind: “You need to go.”
She closed her eyes, pressing her face into the pillow. It wasn’t fair to him. It wasn’t fair to herself. But, at the same time, it felt inevitable. How could she bear living beside someone who didn’t fully love her? Who stayed with her out of obligation?
This is what you deserve, isn’t it? To be rejected again.
“You knew he didn’t love you,” said the cruel voice in her mind, but it was truthful. From the start, she had known. Always known. Harry was generous, kind—but he wasn’t hers. He never was. He never promised to love her, never deceived her.
And yet, she loved him.
“I love him,” she whispered into the darkness.
The admission was painful, like reopening an exposed wound. But there was a strange relief in saying it, even if only to herself. She loved Harry with an intensity that frightened her, but love wasn’t enough. Not when he was filled with doubts and uncertainties, when he would never have stayed with her if not for the babies.
She wanted to be enough for him, but she wasn’t.
Because you’ve never been enough for anyone. The cruel voice returned, reminding her of all the times she’d been treated as strange, inadequate, even by those who were supposed to understand her. The world had always seen her as eccentric, a peculiar figure, but never someone who could truly be loved.
She turned in bed, trying to push the thoughts away.
Did you really think he could love you?
The answer was in the ache tightening her chest, in the words he didn’t say, in his inability to deny that he stayed only out of obligation.
The emptiness on the other side of the bed was unbearable. She ran her fingers over his pillow, now cold but still carrying his scent, and wished, if only for a moment, that she hadn’t told him to leave. But she knew that if he stayed, it would be worse.
Luna curled up, hugging her belly as if her babies could shield her from the world.
“I’ll be strong for you,” she whispered, more to herself than to the babies. But the truth was, she didn’t know if she could. Luna was tired of what life had dealt her. Tired of spending her life trying to ignore the dull ache of being told she was never enough.
Harry sat on the guest room bed. It was late, but he had no desire to sleep. His open trunk in the corner seemed to mock him, a cruel reminder that he would have to leave.
He ran his hands over his face, exhausted but unable to relax. The conversation with Luna played in his head, her words echoing relentlessly: “You need to go.”
He never thought hearing that from her would hurt so much. In the first month they spent together, when he thought she’d get better and he’d have to leave, he felt fear and sadness at the prospect. When she said she wanted him there, it was like a weight lifted off his chest. Now, this weight didn’t compare. If he thought it would hurt then, now it was unbearable.
The absence of Luna in the room suffocated him. The silence where her soft laughter should be, the empty space beside him on the bed where she used to sleep—it was too much. He couldn’t sleep without the warmth of her body, without her strawberry-scented hair spread across his arms.
He closed his eyes, recalling how she had looked at him before telling him to leave. There had been no anger in her eyes, void. “I messed everything up,” he thought, resting his head against the cold wall.
But there was more. Something deeper. A fear he couldn’t ignore. He knew Ginny was right, at least partially. Was he with Luna because of the babies? Or was there something more? Something he didn’t want to admit, even to himself?
When Ginny kissed him, he felt nothing. But with Luna... everything felt different. Too intense. Too confusing. Her body, her kisses—they set fire to his veins.
He could still feel the weight of Luna’s kiss, the heat of her skin against his, the sound of her moan. But was it all an illusion? A mix of responsibility and desire that he mistook for love?
He wanted to stay. Every fiber of his being wanted to be with her, but fear paralyzed him.
And now she had asked him to leave.
Harry ran his fingers through his messy hair, frustrated with himself. He should know what to do. He always knew what to do, didn’t he? But not with her. Luna was different. She was…
He stopped, trying to find the right word. She was everything he wasn’t. Brave in a strange way, kind in a way that made him want to be better.
But could he love her the way she deserved?
Did he even know what love was? Had he ever truly loved anyone?
He lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Her absence felt suffocating, like something essential had been ripped from him. But maybe that was what he needed.
Maybe he needed to feel this absence, this pain, to understand what it truly meant.
But as the night dragged on, one thing became clear: leaving her would be the hardest thing he would ever do.
And the thought of her moving on, finding someone who would truly love her, was unbearable. But maybe that’s what she deserved. To be loved without hesitation.
He wondered: how could he, who had never known love except from friends, truly love anyone?
By morning, Harry woke to the faint sunlight streaming through the window. For a second, he thought he’d had a nightmare, but then he looked around and saw he was alone in the guest room.
He had been awake all night, falling asleep only near dawn.
The constant ache in his heart hadn’t subsided, and he rubbed his chest as if that might ease the pain.
Harry went downstairs as he did every morning, but this time he was still in yesterday’s clothes.
He made coffee and sat at the table, his heart racing as he waited for her to come down.
What would he say to her? Should he have already left?
He was paralyzed, everything inside him spinning.
He wanted so badly to see her come down and greet him with her soft voice and messy hair.
He looked at the table, remembering how she leaned over it toward him.
After an hour of waiting, he accepted that she wouldn’t come. It was time for him to go.
Without paying attention to the spells he used, he packed everything into his trunk and levitated it out of the room.
Harry stopped at her bedroom door, debating whether to say goodbye.
Leaving without seeing her felt so wrong.
“Luna… I’m leaving,” he called out, his voice trembling slightly but loud enough.
The bedroom door opened, and Luna stood on the other side, wearing one of the few dresses that still fit her. She had dark circles under her eyes, just like him, but she was still beautiful.
“Good morning, Harry.” She smiled faintly. “I set aside your things that were here.”
She stepped aside, and he saw a pile of his belongings on the bed.
His stomach churned even more. She didn’t want anything of his here, as if he’d never been there.
“Thank you,” he managed to say softly.
With a wave of her wand, his things flew into his trunk.
They stood there, saying nothing.
He wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what.
“I left your coffee ready on the table,” he said, concerned she hadn’t eaten.
“That was very kind of you. Thank you.”
She was acting normal. He wanted her to yell at him, to tell him he’d ruined everything. But she just stood there as if it didn’t hurt.
“So… I’ll be going,” he said, swallowing the lump in his throat.
“Goodbye, Harry Potter.” Hearing her say his name made his whole body ache.
He walked toward the stairs, while everything inside him rebelled against it.
He stopped again.
“Luna…” he called hesitantly.
She didn’t say anything, just waited.
“Can I… can I come to the appointment with you tomorrow?”
He waited nervously.
“Of course.”
He felt a sliver of relief.
“Thank you,” he said, then descended the stairs, taking in every detail, and stepped into the fireplace.
When he emerged in the living room at Grimmauld Place, he felt like he might vomit.
Everything was tidy. Kreacher must have been there. He looked around and felt so lost and lonely that this enormous house felt like his new cupboard under the stairs.
Harry sat on the couch and let the weight of what he had done crash over him.
Luna stood in her bedroom doorway until she heard him leave through the fireplace.
When he was gone and the house fell silent, her entire body began to tremble. Luna stepped back to her bed and lay down.
“You won’t cry,” she said to the empty room.
Her body shook, and her heart felt like it had been ripped from her chest.
“Be glad it happened, not that it ended,” she tried to recite her mother’s phrase, but it didn’t seem to work. She wanted him. She wanted him to want her.
Luna lay staring at the window, unmoving until the room turned dark again.
She went downstairs and saw the breakfast left on the table. With a flick of her wand, she threw it all in the trash.
Luna took a deep breath and looked around. It was as if he’d never been there; there was nothing of his left, no books or scrolls. But somehow, everything that remained reminded her of him.
She wondered if the emptiness in her chest would ever go away.