Beyond Fear

It was December 31st, and in just a few hours, a new year would begin. Luna sat at the kitchen table, a cup of tea in one hand and a slice of almond cake—her mother’s recipe—in the other. Neville had invited her to his grandmother's house for a New Year's dinner, but she already felt too tired and heavy. Her belly was enormous, and even she was amazed when she caught sight of herself in the mirror.  

Going out during the week to shop for baby items had been a special moment, but it had drained all her energy. Baking the cake she was now eating had been an uplifting, though exhausting, idea since her study schedule had already concluded, and she couldn’t turn on the television without her heart threatening to break. Without feeling the urge to call him back.  

Luna didn’t feel sad about being alone; in fact, she was grateful. Just a year ago, she had been in a dungeon. Being in her own home, comfortable, and carrying the greatest blessings of her life was nothing short of a miracle. However, she wished Harry were there, that they could have dinner together and later lie on the couch, wrapped in each other’s arms, watching a movie. She wanted to feel his hand on her belly, to hear him laugh, and above all, she wanted to hope for a happy family.  

This thought reminded her of her last session of the year with her mental healer, just the day before. She had sent a letter saying she felt too tired to go to the hospital, so Greta had offered to come to her, as she had done several times when Luna was on bed rest.  

Luna had sat on her floral-patterned sofa while Greta took the armchair, holding the tea Luna had made for them both. Luna seemed calm, but the healer had learned to recognize the subtle signs of the emotional storm beneath her serenity.  

“I’ve been thinking about what it will be like when the babies are born,” Luna began, her voice soft but tinged with worry. “And about what it will be like when Harry is around again.”  

Greta tilted her head slightly, signaling her interest.  

“Do you think he’ll be around?”  

Luna didn’t hesitate to answer.  

“Yes. He said he wants to help. And I know he wants to be a good father.” She smiled faintly for the first time that day, but her expression quickly turned apprehensive. “But that means he might need to live with me again.”  

Greta remained silent for a moment, letting Luna organize her thoughts.  

“How do you feel about that?”  

Luna frowned slightly, as if trying to fit the pieces of an invisible puzzle together.  

“I don’t know.” She paused, glancing at the TV and the stack of movies beside it. “Part of me knows it would be easier with him around. I don’t know anything about raising babies, and there will be two of them. I can’t do this alone. But I also feel like it wouldn’t just be good for the babies—it would be good for me too.”  

“Because you miss him?”  

Luna nodded slowly, the motion almost imperceptible.  

“I do. Every day. But I also don’t want to go back on my decision. I asked him to leave because I knew it wasn’t right for me… for us.”  

“And you feel that, if he comes back, it might undermine that decision?”  

Luna stayed silent, reflecting.  

“Maybe.” Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “Because when he’s around, it’s hard to remember what’s right for me. He has this way of making me want to believe things can be different, even when I know he’s still confused.”  

“Confused about how he feels about you?”  

“About how he feels about me and about himself.” Luna sighed, resting a hand on her belly. “He cares about me, I know that. But I think that care is more obligation than love. And I think I’ve always been afraid of being just that to someone… a responsibility.”  

Greta watched her with a steady yet empathetic gaze.  

“This is something we’ve discussed before, Luna. That feeling of being a burden. Do you think this ties back to your past experiences?”  

Luna nodded, not looking away this time.  

“I think so. Hogwarts, my dad, even what happened at the Malfoy manor… all of it made me feel like, somehow, I’m not enough. Or that I don’t deserve more than what people are willing to give.”  

She paused, her tone quieter.  

“When I was taken by the Death Eaters, and no one came for me for so long, I thought maybe it was because I wasn’t important enough.”  

Greta let the silence linger for a moment, giving Luna space to process her thoughts.  

“And do you think that’s true? That you’re not important or enough?”  

Luna looked at her, her expression vulnerable.  

"Sometimes, yes, and I think that’s what makes me accept things I shouldn’t."

Greta nodded in understanding.

"It’s a pattern you’re starting to recognize now. A pattern born of so many painful experiences—loneliness, abandonment, even the loss of your mother. All of these have shaped how you see yourself."

Leaning forward slightly, Greta’s voice was gentle but deliberate.

"But you asked Harry to leave. That tells me that, despite everything, you’re starting to see that you deserve more."

Luna let out a soft, almost incredulous laugh.

"It was hard. It still is. Sometimes I wonder if I was brave or just foolish."

"Brave!" Greta said firmly. "Because by doing so, you put your needs first. You decided you didn’t want someone by your side out of obligation, even if it meant facing loneliness and fear."

Luna looked at Greta, her eyes glistening but refusing to shed tears.

"And now? If he comes back?"

"If he comes back, it will be an opportunity for both of you to decide what you want—not just for the babies, but for yourselves."

"And if he doesn’t know what he wants?"

Greta took a deep breath before answering.

"Then it will be your decision. You’ve already shown you’re capable of setting boundaries. And there’s nothing wrong with wanting him to be there for the babies. But that doesn’t mean you have to accept less than you deserve as a woman."

Luna seemed to weigh the words, her gaze distant as she traced the outlines of a response in her mind.

"Do you think it’s possible? To love someone and still choose yourself?"

Greta smiled softly.

"I think it’s the truest form of love. When you choose yourself, you show the people around you that they need to choose you too—for who you are, not out of obligation."

Luna looked down at her belly again, feeling the small movements within.

"I want them to grow up seeing that. I want them to know it’s okay to wait for true love, even if it takes time."

"And you’re already showing them that now, even before they’re born," Greta said with conviction.

Luna gave a faint smile—not of joy, but of understanding.

"For the first time, I think I’m starting to believe it."

The session ended with Luna feeling a mix of emotions, but there was a lightness in her heart that hadn’t been there before. The road ahead was still long, but she knew she was moving in the right direction. She also felt more grounded in herself and the decisions she needed to make.

When Greta left, Luna slowly climbed the stairs, took a warm, relaxing bath, slipped into comfortable pajamas, and went to the babies’ room. All the tiny clothes had already been washed, and the room carried a faint, soothing scent. She could have used magic, but she chose to carefully and lovingly fold the clothes instead.

Her heart filled so completely with a love she had never known before. She loved her boys and would do anything for them. Perhaps this pure, genuine love would heal her heart.

The letter was simple, written in Luna’s slanted, peculiar handwriting. Harry found it among the usual pile of correspondence upon returning to Grimmauld Place. When he opened it, it felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs.

Harry,

I hope you’re well. I know we’ve been avoiding contact since you left, but the babies are almost here, and it’s important we discuss some things before then. I’d like you to come to my house so we can talk.

If you can, come tomorrow afternoon. I’ll make tea.

If that’s not possible, please let me know when you’re available.

Luna

He reread the words several times, trying to discern some emotion behind the neutral tone. There was a kindness he recognized as uniquely hers, but also something firm, as though she was bracing herself for something important. The world around him seemed to freeze, and the weight of the silence in Grimmauld Place only amplified the cascade of thoughts racing through his mind.

Luna.

He repeated her name mentally, a pang of guilt and longing piercing his chest. It was the first time she’d reached out to him directly since he’d left weeks ago. He knew he’d been a coward in many moments, that his silence had only widened the gap between them. But now, holding this letter in his hands, all his hesitation transformed into an internal storm.

He was worried about the babies’ arrival and had thought about how he could be present, but he had never found an answer, especially when considering the distance Luna had placed between them.

The babies are almost here.

The phrase echoed in his mind, each word weighted with significance. He knew that, of course. Each passing day reminded him that he was about to become a father, that his life would change forever. But seeing it written, laid out so simply, made his heart race.

I’d like you to come to my house so we can talk.

What did she mean? What exactly did she expect from this conversation? He tried to imagine the tone of her voice as she wrote those words. Would it be gentle, as always? Or was there a trace of hurt, of impatience? He couldn’t shake the feeling that this meeting would be a turning point—an opportunity to make amends, or perhaps a chance for Luna to draw a definitive line in the sand.

I’ll make tea.

Harry let out a tired smile. That was so Luna. Even in a potentially serious moment, she thought to offer something comforting. But the gesture, though familiar, also felt distant. It was as if she were trying to make the situation less tense, more practical. Perhaps that’s what worried him most: the possibility that Luna was accepting the space between them as permanent.

He closed his eyes, pressing the letter against the table. His thoughts swirled, emotions threatening to spill over. Guilt. Anxiety. Fear. And amid all that, a flicker of hope he couldn’t ignore, no matter how hard he tried.

Luna wanted to talk to him.

Maybe this was a chance to rebuild something. To show her that he didn’t want to be just a distant presence in her and the babies’ lives. But he also knew he’d have to face what he had been avoiding for so long: the consequences of his choices, his words, his silence.

Harry took a deep breath and read the letter again, as if trying to absorb the tone hidden behind the words. Tomorrow afternoon. Would he have the courage to face her? There was no doubt he had to go, but the bigger question loomed: was he ready for whatever Luna had to say?

The letter filled him with equal parts hope and fear. His heart pounded at the thought of seeing her, of returning, even briefly, to the home that had once been his. As daunting as it was, one thing was clear: he couldn’t ignore this.

He would go.