Chapter 50
The warmth of the fireplace dissipated as Harry emerged into the living room of their home. The room was quiet, with only the soft sound of the babies' breathing coming from the crib. Luna was asleep on the couch. She still held a book, resting on her stomach. It was clear she had fallen asleep while reading. She was tired, yet still so devoted, showing her love for the twins in every moment of the day.
Harry stopped, watching the scene for a few moments. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Luna, so serene and beautiful in that moment. There was something about her that disarmed him, yet at the same time, gave him strength.
Harry stood there, motionless, as if time itself had stopped. The sound of the wind outside and the warmth of the fireplace seemed irrelevant compared to the scene before him. In that instant, everything else faded away: the anguish, the confusion, the guilt, and the doubts that had haunted him for months. All that remained was them: Luna, James, and Albus.
He looked at his sons in the crib, so small, so helpless, and felt a wave of tenderness so intense it took his breath away. Every gentle rise and fall of their breathing, every tiny feature of their perfect faces, seemed etched into his heart. They were his flesh and blood, his reason for living. The love he felt for them was so pure, so absolute, that it felt almost impossible to contain within him. He felt both strong and weak in the face of the enormity of those two small lives that had changed his forever.
And then he looked at Luna.
She looked like a living portrait of peace. The way her almost-white lashes brushed her cheeks, the way her soft pink lips formed a heart shape, the way her tousled hair spilled across the couch, her small, delicate hands—all of it made her look like a little angel. Even in sleep, she radiated warmth. There was an aura of kindness about her, something he knew he would never find in anyone else. Her serene face displayed a strength that seemed to carry her even in her most difficult moments—a kind of beauty that went far beyond the physical.
Harry didn’t know how long he stood there, taking in every detail of her, but as he watched, something within him finally clicked into place. The truth grew in his heart, like something that had always been there but was only now becoming painfully clear: he loved her. He loved her in a way so deep, he could no longer deny or doubt it.
It was a feeling unlike anything he had ever experienced. It wasn’t the impulsive passion he’d felt in the past, nor the safe comfort of old friendships, nor the sense of responsibility fueled by guilt. It was something far greater, far more intense and complete.
It was the kind of love that had grown slowly, in the silence of days and the stillness of nights, built with every gesture, every sacrifice, every glance, every smile. A love with deep roots, encompassing not just Luna but the two tiny miracles they had created together. A love that had started to take root when she was the only one he could talk to about Sirius, when he’d told her he loved her for the first time, even if just as a friend. Looking back now, he could see every new root sinking deeper: when she listened to him and understood him, when she smiled at him, when she hugged him, when she slept beside him to chase away his nightmares, when they sat in comfortable silence or laughed until they cried at a movie, when she leaned on him to bring their children into the world. So many roots, growing quietly, but steadily.
He realized then that the reason it had taken him so long to recognize this feeling was because he had never felt anything like it before. It had no comparison, no reference point. It was love, yes, but it was also a silent commitment, a promise to be better, to be more.
In that room, with the woman he now knew he loved and the children who meant everything to him, Harry found the center of his world. Everything that mattered was there. He needed nothing more.
Harry smiled—a small smile, but one full of meaning. And for the first time, without hesitation, without doubt, he knew exactly where he wanted to be. And with whom.
At that moment, Albus woke and began stirring in the crib. Harry quietly walked over and picked him up, cradling him against his chest. Even though he was tired, he would never tire of holding them, of smelling their baby scent, of kissing their tiny heads.
As he turned to take Albus to the kitchen, so as not to wake his brother or Luna, he noticed Luna watching him, still lying down. When their eyes met, she smiled at him slowly—a small, unguarded smile—and Harry’s heart raced.
“Hi…” he said softly.
“You’re back,” she replied gently.
“Yes, I didn’t want to wake you.” He smiled, unable to look away from her.
She gazed at him in silence, as if she could see into his soul, and he wanted her to see it. He wanted her to see that he was hers.
“Did everything go well?” she asked softly, sitting up and breaking their gaze.
Harry nodded, sitting down on the couch beside her. “It was good… it helped me realize some things.” He looked at Albus, then back at Luna. “Were they okay?”
“They slept the whole time,” she answered.
“And you? Did you get some rest?”
Luna hesitated for a moment before replying. “I tried.”
Harry wanted to say more, but he felt that words might shatter the fragile peace of the moment. So he simply stayed there, close to her, sharing the silence.
The house was silent. The kind of silence that only happened during the rare hours when the babies were finally asleep. Harry descended the stairs slowly, unable to fall asleep himself. His mind was full of thoughts after the conversation with Grimsby. He knew he had a lot to prove, but he wasn’t sure where to start.
When he reached the living room, he saw Luna sitting on the couch, holding a book. He didn’t want to interrupt her, so he simply stood there, lingering in the doorway, watching her once again. There was something magical about her, something he could never put into words. It was the lightness with which she existed in the world, as though she was part of something greater, and at the same time, the unshakable strength she hid beneath her calm surface. She didn’t need to say anything—her strength radiated from her.
But that night, Harry noticed something else. There was a tension in her shoulders, a weariness that even the comfort of the moment couldn’t erase. It was as if she were in a constant state of vigilance, always ready to bear the weight on her own. He hated it—especially because he was one of the reasons for the barrier she seemed to carry with her.
He wanted to move closer, sit beside her, and tell her that everything would be all right. But he wasn’t sure she would believe him. Not yet.
Harry ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself. What can I do to make her trust me again? The question echoed in his mind. He knew words wouldn’t be enough. Promises of a better future sounded hollow without actions to back them up.
He thought about the small moments they had shared since the boys were born. How she was always so kind to him, yet never letting him get past the barrier she had built around herself. He needed to show her that he was willing to bridge that distance—not by forcing it, but by proving, day after day, that he was there. Not just for the boys, but for her.
Luna turned a page in her book, her slender fingers moving with grace. For a moment, Harry found himself wondering what was going through her mind. Did she think about him too? Did she wonder if he was going to stay?
He took a deep breath, resolved. He didn’t know exactly what to do, but he knew where to start. Tomorrow, he would focus on the little things. Not just for the boys, but for her. He would make a point of being present, of lightening any burden she carried alone, until she understood that he wasn’t going anywhere.
Finally, he stepped into the room, making enough noise for her to notice without startling her. Luna looked up from her book and gave him a small, gentle, but distant smile, as she always did.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he said softly.
“I understand,” she replied, closing the book in her lap. “The boys are quiet now. We should take advantage of it, but it’s hard to shut off the body and sleep.”
Harry sat down in the armchair opposite her, still unable to meet her gaze for long. “You look tired,” he said, concern evident in his voice.
Luna simply shrugged. “It’s normal. We all are.”
“Yes, we are, but I want you to know that I’m here to share this work, and I’m not going anywhere.” His tone was serious as he met her eyes with determination.
She stared at him for a long moment, as if trying to discern whether he was lying. When she saw nothing but sincerity, she gave a small nod.
“I know,” she said softly.
He wanted to say more, but something in the way she looked at him made him stop. He couldn’t push the conversation. Instead, he simply nodded, trying to convey in his silence everything he didn’t know how to put into words. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, his heart heavy but full of unspoken promises. He knew it would take time, but he was willing to wait.
The next morning, Harry woke early, even before the babies began to cry. He crept downstairs quietly, determined to do something for Luna—no matter how small. In the kitchen, he prepared a simple tray: toast, eggs, sliced fruit, and a cup of tea.
When Luna appeared in the doorway, her face still marked by sleep and her hair tousled, she looked at him in surprise. This was something he used to do often, but since he’d returned, he’d only joined her in the kitchen, feeling like an intruder in his own home. Now, though, he was determined to take care of her every day.
“You’re up early,” she said, her voice still drowsy.
“I wanted to make this for you,” Harry said, gesturing to the tray. “I thought you might want to eat something before the boys wake up.”
She looked at the tray for a moment before sitting down, still silent. “Thank you,” she murmured, picking up the cup of tea.
Harry only nodded and began tidying up the kitchen while she ate quietly. When the boys began to cry upstairs, he quickly dried his hands.
“I’ll take care of them. Stay here and finish your breakfast,” he said, already heading for the stairs.
Luna watched him leave, a tightness forming in her chest.
From that day on, every morning, Harry prepared breakfast and made sure she had time to eat in peace while he took care of the boys. It was a small thing, but it was meaningful, giving Luna a bit of personal time she hadn’t had since the babies were born.
Luna knew he was taking care of her, something she had made clear she didn’t need. But the truth was, she did need it. As much as she cared for the babies, she needed to be cared for too—but she wasn’t ready to admit that to Harry.