Beyond Fear

Harry stopped in front of Luna’s house, the letter still carefully folded in his pocket. Since the moment it had arrived, he had been locked in a silent struggle with his emotions. Now, standing before the wooden door that seemed oddly imposing, he felt the weight of every step that had brought him there. He carried a small bag of children’s books he’d bought impulsively a week ago, but now it felt foolish.  

The house had a warm, serene air, but to him, at that moment, it seemed laden with meaning. The cold afternoon wind and snow-covered hills highlighted the almost reverent silence in the air. Harry ran a hand through his hair, an automatic gesture, as he took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm in his chest.  

He raised his hand, about to knock on the door, but hesitated, his fingers hovering in the air. A vision of Luna came to mind—perhaps in the kitchen, preparing the tea she had mentioned in the letter, or in the babies’ room, adjusting something. He wondered if she was nervous too or if her usual serenity surrounded her, as always.  

“You can do this, Harry,” he murmured to himself, his voice low and almost inaudible. But his words didn’t dispel the anxiety consuming him. He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to feel the gravity of the moment. This wasn’t just about him and Luna. It was about the babies. About the future.  

The afternoon chill seemed to penetrate his coat, but he barely noticed. In his mind, scenarios alternated: the possibility of Luna being willing to build something with him versus the fear of facing the finality of a decision already made. He wasn’t sure which scared him more.  

Finally, Harry knocked softly on the door, the sound almost delicate in the tranquil environment. He stepped back, straightening his posture, but his heart pounded so loudly he thought Luna might hear it from the other side.  

Seconds passed, perhaps less than he imagined, before he heard the sound of light footsteps approaching. The doorknob turned, and Harry held his breath, feeling the moment stretch infinitely.  

The door opened, and there was Luna. She wore something simple but comfortable, as if completely at ease in her own skin. Her face, though serene, bore a weariness Harry couldn’t tell was physical or emotional. For a moment, her eyes met his, and he saw in them the turbulence her calm expression masked.  

“Hi,” she said, her voice soft but clear, a polite, faint smile curving her lips.  

“Hi,” he replied, his voice slightly hoarse, as though all the air had left his lungs.  

Luna stepped aside slightly, opening the door wider. “Come in. The tea is almost ready.”  

Harry hesitated for a fraction of a second, glancing inside before crossing the threshold. The soft scent he associated with Luna—strawberries and vanilla—immediately enveloped him, bringing a wave of memories and a strange sense of belonging.  

As he stepped in, Luna closed the door behind him, and the sound of the latch felt final, marking the start of something he could no longer avoid.  

The house looked different, more organized and prepared for the babies’ arrival, and the absence of their previous dynamic was palpable.  

“Thank you for inviting me,” he began, clutching the bag like a shield.  

Luna nodded and gestured for him to sit at the kitchen table. She moved slowly around the kitchen, and he could see it was due to the weight of her belly. He restrained himself from offering help.  

This wasn’t his home anymore, he reminded himself, with a pang in his chest.  

“I thought it was the right time. We need to decide how things will work when the babies arrive.”  

Harry set the bag down on the floor, sitting in one of the chairs.  

“Of course. I want to help in every way I can.”  

Luna poured the tea in silence, sliding a cup toward him before sitting across from him. Her clear eyes studied him with a calmness he didn’t know whether to find reassuring or unsettling.  

“I know you want to help, Harry,” she began, holding the cup with both hands. She paused, as if deciding what to say, then continued practically. “But helping means being present, and I don’t think that’s possible while living apart. Not with newborns.”  

Harry froze, the warm cup in his hands suddenly feeling too heavy.  

“You’re saying you want me to move back in?”  

Luna took a deep breath, as if choosing her words carefully.  

“I’m saying it might be best for the babies. At least in the beginning, until I can manage on my own.”  

Harry felt his heart race. The idea of moving back in was both a relief and a source of anxiety.  

“I’ll do anything for them, Luna.”  

“I know.” She sipped her tea calmly, and he wondered if she could hear his heartbeat.  

“Would this be just for the babies?” he asked uncertainly, afraid of the answer yet hopeful, without fully understanding why.  

Luna looked at him, her exhaustion evident, as if she carried the weight of the world alone.  

“Yes, Harry. This would only be for the babies.”  

He nodded slowly, feeling a sharp pang of something he couldn’t quite name but that hurt all the same.  

“All right. If you think it’s best, I’ll do it.” He tried to mask his fear.  

Luna set her cup on the table, her eyes fixed on him.  

“I want to make this clear, Harry. I don’t expect this to mean anything beyond two parents taking care of their children. You’ll be here only for them, and you have no duty or responsibility toward me. I can take care of myself.” Her voice was firm.  

Harry felt the weight of her words, and something inside him tightened.  

“Understood,” he said, his voice quieter. He had known she would say this, but hearing it from her, in such a resolute tone, made his chest ache.  

The silence that followed was heavy, but Luna leaned forward slightly, softening her tone.  

“I’m not saying this to push you away. I just think we need to be honest about what we can offer each other right now. I have nothing to offer you, and I don’t want anything from you.”  

Harry studied her, admiring the clarity with which she handled something so complicated. Her words hurt, but they also showed her strength. And somehow, that brought a faint sense of relief.  

He looked at her for a moment, his gaze full of conflicting emotions. He took a deep breath before responding, his voice soft but sincere.  

“You think you have nothing to offer me, Luna, but just letting me be here, you’re already giving me more than I deserve.”  

Luna held his gaze, her expression softening slightly, though her profound exhaustion was still evident, as if she carried more than she should.  

“Harry, I don’t want you to misunderstand this situation. This isn’t about us,” she said, her voice steady but quieter. “I know you want to do the right thing, but I just want you to be sure you’re here for the right reasons. I don’t want you staying out of guilt or obligation.” She paused, her voice growing softer but retaining its calm strength. “I just want you here because you chose to be. For them.”  

Harry only looked at her, a mix of pain and shame in his expression. He knew she wasn’t saying this to hurt him—she was just stating the obvious, protecting herself and the babies. And that was what hurt most: her need to protect them from him.  

Afterward, they continued discussing practical details—shifts for care, how they’d organize tasks, what he’d need to bring if he moved back in. But deep down, both knew the real complexity lay not in the logistics but in the feelings neither was ready to confront.  

The sound of the door closing echoed through the silent house, and Luna remained where she was, seated at the kitchen table. The tea in her cup had gone lukewarm. Her fingers turned the ceramic in her hands as her mind raced in circles, trying to grasp what she was feeling.

Harry had left, and the house felt emptier than ever.

She had expected this; she knew it would be hard to ask him to return, even if only for the babies. But still, when the words left her lips, it felt as though something inside her broke again. Not because she had hopes of rebuilding what they once had, but because his closeness reminded her of how easy it was to lose herself.

Harry had agreed. That didn’t surprise her. He always took responsibility for things—an old habit she was beginning to understand wasn’t just kindness. It was guilt. A burden he carried alone, as though it were his personal cross.

Luna sighed, pushing the teacup away as she rose carefully. The weight of her belly pulled her forward, a constant reminder of the lives about to arrive. She walked from the kitchen to the living room, where the baby carriage waited, silent and empty.

She ran her fingers over it, tracing each curve and line. It was a gift from Neville, who had hung several trinkets from the top.

"You can’t do everything alone, Luna," he had said in that gentle, practical tone only Neville possessed.

And he was right. She knew that. But accepting help—accepting that she needed Harry—was harder than it should have been.

Her eyes fell on a small pile of clothes on the chair: tiny onesies and socks. Each piece was a reminder that her life was about to change irreversibly. And that Harry would be a part of that, one way or another.

She sank carefully onto the couch, her hands resting on her belly. "What am I doing?" she murmured to herself, the words echoing in the empty room.

Luna knew she needed help, especially in the first few months. Harry was the father, and he wanted to be there. That much was clear. But she also knew that asking him to come back, even “just for the babies,” was risky.

Her heart was still vulnerable, no matter how much she tried to pretend otherwise.

In the weeks since Harry had left, Luna had focused on rebuilding her emotional barriers. Her sessions with her mental healer had been both a relief and a challenge, forcing her to confront things she’d preferred to ignore. Her father’s abandonment, the trauma of the Malfoy Manor, the loneliness that had always accompanied her.

And now, Harry.

He was unlike anything she had experienced before. In the beginning, she thought there might be something deep, pure, and real between them. She saw emotion in his eyes when he was inside her, felt it in the way he clung to her and their shared life. He was affectionate and tender. But his departure, his hesitation, had shattered that illusion.

That didn’t mean she didn’t love him, but it did mean she understood he couldn’t be her salvation.

"He’s lost too," she thought, feeling the familiar sting of pain mixed with understanding. Neville was right: neither of them had a normal childhood. Growing up in the midst of war had taken things from them they might never recover.

But what did that mean for the babies?

She wanted them to grow up in a safe home, surrounded by love. She wanted them to have what she never did, even if it meant making space for Harry in her life again.

At the same time, she knew she had to be careful. She couldn’t let him return just to repeat old patterns, to live under the weight of guilt and obligation.

Luna stroked her belly absently, feeling the babies stir. “You’re going to change everything,” she whispered. “And I promise I’ll do my best.”

She knew the conversation with Harry was only the beginning. There would be more discussions, more difficult decisions. But for the first time, she felt confident she could handle it.

Yes, she needed help. And Harry was that help, but only if he could be more than a burden to himself.

"He’ll have to figure that out on his own," she thought, a faint, melancholic smile touching her lips.

For now, all she could do was what she always did: keep moving forward.

The door to Grimmauld Place closed with a dull thud behind Harry, echoing in the empty hallway. He tossed his coat onto the nearest chair, not bothering to hang it up. The conversation with Luna spun in his mind like a spell he couldn’t undo.

Climbing the stairs, he passed the narrow corridor, feeling the oppressive familiarity of the walls that seemed to watch him. Grimmauld Place had never been a home to him. Not even during the war, when it served as a refuge, did it feel like anything more than a dark, memory-filled shell.

Now, once again, it was nothing but an empty space.

In the room he had claimed since returning, Harry sat on the edge of the bed. The bag he had brought to Luna’s, filled with children’s books, still sat on the floor by his feet. He hadn’t had the courage to show them to her. It didn’t seem like the right moment.

Luna had asked him to move back in. Not as a partner, but as the father of the babies. "Just for the babies," she had said. The words echoed in his head, carrying a weight he didn’t quite know how to bear.

He rubbed his face with his hands, trying to dispel the pressure in his chest. It was logical. It made sense for them to be in the same place, especially in the beginning. The babies would need both of them, and Luna, as strong and resilient as she was, shouldn’t—and couldn’t—do it alone.

But why did the idea feel so complicated?

Harry leaned back, letting his body fall onto the bed, staring at the ceiling for a long time as his thoughts piled up.

He couldn’t help but admire Luna. Her strength. Her clarity. Even when the situation was emotionally messy, she seemed to handle it with an honesty he envied. But there was also something painful about seeing her so determined to keep things so... separate.

He knew he had failed her. Asking him to leave had been fair. Maybe necessary. Harry didn’t know how to deal with his own feelings, let alone hers. But what bothered him most now was the idea that maybe Luna didn’t truly need him.

She was more than capable of raising those children on her own. And that hurt.

He closed his eyes, recalling her expression during the conversation. There was exhaustion but also a firmness he couldn’t ignore. Luna had changed. She wasn’t the girl who smiled in the face of cruelty or accepted things without question. She demanded more now. More of herself, more of those around her.

And Harry wondered if he was capable of being that "more."

At the same time, he felt an overwhelming guilt. It shouldn’t be this hard. He wanted to be a good father. He wanted to be there for the babies, for Luna, but something inside him kept questioning.

“It’s just for the babies,” he whispered to himself, as if repeating it would make it true.

But it wasn’t.

The truth was, he didn’t know what he felt for Luna. And that terrified him. The desire, the connection they once had—it was real. But was it love? Or was it just mutual need, comfort in the midst of pain?

Harry sighed, turning onto his side on the bed. He felt as though he were trapped in a knot he had tied himself. Luna deserved more. He knew that. But was he capable of being what she needed?

Or, worse, was he ready to admit that he needed her too?

When the conversation ended and he had to say goodbye, the feeling was almost the same as when she asked him to leave. He wanted so much to stay there—she looked so exhausted, her belly so large. He felt the need to help her, to care for her, to hold her and place his hands on her belly. Did she miss him? Did she want him back too, not just for the children?

In that moment, with the house silent around him and the weight of the conversation still fresh in his mind, Harry realized he would have to find those answers. Not just for Luna or the babies, but for himself.