Chapter 48
The moon was high in the sky, but inside the Rookery, the early hours of the morning seemed to drag on endlessly. Albus and James were restless, their cries and murmurs breaking the night’s silence. Exhaustion hung heavily over Harry and Luna as they took turns rocking the babies and trying to ease the discomfort caused by their gas.
"I don’t know how such tiny babies can have so much gas," Harry murmured, sitting on the couch with James in his arms, moving gently and repetitively to calm him.
"Babies are little mysteries," Luna replied, her voice soft despite the fatigue. Albus was nestled in her arms, finally beginning to drift off to sleep.
Harry looked at her and noticed the shadows under her eyes, her messy hair, and the exhaustion evident in her every movement. Still, there was a serenity about her, something unshakable.
When the twins finally fell asleep, silence settled over the house like a blanket, bringing temporary relief. Harry and Luna sat on the couch, too tired to speak.
Harry was watching the two babies sleeping in the crib when he spoke again. His voice was low, and Luna wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t want to wake the children or because he seemed to be sharing a secret. "It’s so painful to see them suffer. It feels so hard… to get it right with them." He let out a low, humorless laugh. "I never imagined something so small could make me feel so… incompetent."
Luna smiled faintly, a touch of tenderness on her lips. "I think no one feels ready for this. Even when we try to prepare, they always find a way to surprise us."
"Yeah, but I think it’s more than that," Harry continued, his voice a little heavier. "It’s more about... feeling like I’m never enough. Like no matter how hard I try, there’s always something more I should be doing."
Luna tilted her head, studying him. She had often felt the same way. "Do you always feel like that? Or is it just with the babies?"
"That’s the same question my mental healer asked me," he said thoughtfully.
Luna was surprised by the revelation; she didn’t know he was seeing a mental healer. "I didn’t know you were seeing a mental healer," she said softly, careful not to sound too surprised.
Harry looked at her for a moment, then back at the crib. "I started seeing one… after I left. Hermione said it would be good for me, and she was right. I should’ve listened when you suggested it months ago."
"What matters is that you’re going now," she replied without hesitation. Luna was happy for him and silently hoped he would manage to overcome his struggles, just as she was gradually overcoming hers.
Harry bit his lip as though searching for the right words. "To answer your question… I think I’ve always felt it, in a way. It’s like… my whole life has been about proving something. To other people, to myself. And even now, with them… sometimes it feels like I’m constantly waiting for someone to realize I’m a fraud."
Luna frowned slightly but didn’t say anything. She knew he needed to express this in his own way.
"We talked about this in therapy," Harry continued, his voice quieter now. "About how, when you grow up without love, you kind of… don’t recognize it when you find it. I recognize my love for the babies—it’s something so strong and pure—but sometimes I feel like I don’t know what to do with it. It’s like trying to understand a language you’ve never heard before. And I always wonder… how do you know if you’re doing it right?"
Luna stayed silent for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "I don’t think there’s a ‘right way.’ Love isn’t something you can measure or compare. It’s… messy, sometimes contradictory. But it doesn’t have to be perfect to be real. I’ve been learning that too."
Harry looked at her, his eyes tired but intense. "It’s funny. I always thought love was supposed to be something… grand, like in fairy tales or heroic stories. I always heard that my mother’s sacrifice saved me, so I thought love was that—sacrifices, grand gestures. But my healer said love is something you build in every moment, with every choice." He paused, smoothing the blanket on his lap. "Lately, I’ve started to realize it seems to be more in the little things. In the small moments, like when you rock a baby for the tenth time in one night or hold someone’s hand without saying anything."
Luna smiled softly but didn’t respond immediately. She knew there was more to his words, something he wasn’t saying outright. But she didn’t want to nurture thoughts that might lead to false hopes.
"It sounds like you’re discovering something important about what love means to you," she said gently. "And that’s… beautiful, even if it’s hard. It’s been hard for me to understand love too," she admitted at last.
Harry looked at her for a moment, then lowered his eyes, fiddling with the blanket in his lap. "Beautiful, maybe. But also terrifying. Because when you realize what something means to you… you also realize how much you have to lose. And… I’ve already lost so much. For a while, I believed I was cursed."
Luna felt the weight of his unspoken words. He wasn’t just talking about the babies; she knew that. He was opening his heart to her. So many times, they had talked about their lives, but this was the first time he was showing his soul. He was revealing his fears, being completely vulnerable. She saw the confusion inside him, and for the first time, she understood how deeply his life had affected him. She placed her hand gently over his.
"You’re not cursed, Harry. Terrible things have happened to you, but that doesn’t mean you’ll always lose everyone you love," she said. Then, because he was being vulnerable and completely honest, she decided to be the same. "The babies and I love you, and you’re not going to lose us." She squeezed his hand. "This is a learning process—for me, for you, for them, for all of us. And it’s not something you have to do alone."
Harry looked down at her hand resting on his, the touch delicate yet firm. How good it felt to feel her touch. Hearing her say she loved him made his heart almost leap out of his chest. He didn’t want to let himself hope that she meant it as anything beyond friendship, but seeing her lower the barriers between them now warmed his soul. A small smile appeared on his lips—a sad smile, but a genuine one.
“I never really knew how to... trust people like this. I guess it’s something I’m still trying to learn.”
Luna squeezed his hand lightly once more, a silent gesture of support. “And I think you’re doing a good job at it. One step at a time.”
“Thank you, Luna.” He looked at her with such intensity that her heart skipped a beat. “I know I hurt you, but I swear it was never intentional. I... I was just confused, but I’m trying to find myself. For me, for the babies, and... for you.”
“I know, Harry. I had to learn a lot from what happened, too. I think neither of us really knew what we were doing. I didn’t hate you; I just set a boundary. Even though I understand what you’ve been going through, I need to love myself first and choose myself. I don’t deserve to settle for scraps, even though sometimes I think I do.”
“I know you deserve more.” His voice was low, his smile sad. And even though he didn’t say it outright, Luna could see he believed he couldn’t give that to her.
Silence fell again, but this time it was different. It wasn’t heavy or uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that brought understanding, even when the words weren’t there. Even when both of them realized they still had so much to learn. That conversation gave them both a glimpse of each other’s souls, showing their pain and struggles and how they were both learning and evolving—even if that growth came from something as painful as the distance between them.
The first month of James and Albus’s lives was an emotional rollercoaster and a journey of discovery for Harry and Luna. The twins, though similar in appearance, had already shown distinct personalities from the very first days. James was loud and demanding, always announcing his needs with vigor. Albus, on the other hand, seemed more introspective, crying less but observing everything with a curiosity that intrigued his parents.
The nights were long, and the days were short—a blur of feedings, diaper changes, and stolen moments of sleep whenever possible. Harry, who had never imagined he would master the art of burping a baby, quickly became an expert. Luna, with her unwavering patience, seemed to intuitively know what each twin needed, even when their crying crises aligned perfectly.
Despite the exhaustion, there were moments of pure magic. Like when James gripped Harry’s finger for the first time with surprising strength or when Albus smiled for the first time while Luna rocked him to a soft lullaby. Harry often found himself gazing at the two of them, unable to believe these tiny lives were a part of him.
The challenges of the first month were many, but the growing love Harry and Luna felt for the twins outweighed them all. In those moments when the house finally quieted, and the babies slept side by side in their cribs, Harry and Luna would exchange tired but contented looks. It was hard, but at the same time, it was more wonderful than they could have imagined. Watching them grow so quickly, even in just one month, was a constant reminder of how fragile yet resilient life could be.
Amid all the shared glances during sleepless nights and the deepened camaraderie born from diaper changes and lullabies, there was something between Harry and Luna that remained untouched. As much as the comfortable silence between them sometimes hinted at intimacy, Luna maintained a clear and resolute distance, standing firm in her earlier words: they were just parents, nothing more.
Harry felt the weight of that in every small gesture. When their fingers brushed while passing a blanket for one of the babies, she would quickly pull away. In conversations, even the most vulnerable ones, there was a delicate but unyielding barrier she raised with a serene smile or a subtle shift in topic.
He knew, in part, it was her way of protecting herself—maybe even him. Their last vulnerable conversation, where Harry had opened up about his struggles with recognizing love, seemed to plant a seed of understanding between them. But at the same time, it reinforced the line Luna insisted on not crossing.
As much as they worked flawlessly as a team in caring for the twins, Harry felt that every gesture from Luna carried an unspoken message: the space between them was necessary. She didn’t say it in words—Luna rarely needed to. It was in the small retreats, in the quiet goodbyes as dawn broke and Harry’s shift ended, that he felt it.
He respected her decision, but he couldn’t deny the ache he felt at realizing that even in their most connected moments, Luna still kept a part of herself out of reach. They were parents—just parents, as she had made clear.
Harry was grateful that she had allowed him to come back, that she was compassionate enough to live alongside him every day, being kind and understanding. Yet, he couldn’t help but miss the Luna who was open, playful, and sensual. He missed her warmth, the private smiles she reserved just for him, the feel of her body close to his. Even in the marathon of caring for the twins, most nights when he lay down, he would stare at the ceiling, missing her beside him, the strawberry scent of her hair, and the way it spilled everywhere. It was painful to be so close yet feel so far away.
The connection they shared and the camaraderie in caring for the twins seemed to show just how good they were together. But Luna didn’t seem to see it—or if she did, she chose to ignore it. She seemed to have shielded herself from him, and deep down, Harry knew she was right. He had lost her trust, and he didn’t know if he would ever win it back.