InsaneJournal

NaNo fanfic Part 1
Ok, here are the results of my first day of writing plus some extra from before November so it will make sense. I am following the basic rules of NaNoWriMo here - no deleting, very little editing (I did have to go back and fix some math, but there was no net word loss), and as little second-guessing as possible. If it makes sense, great.  If it doesn't, oh well.  It's NaNo.

I expect that at the end I will need a very patient Brit-picker to correct all my little Americanisms.  If anybody wants to note the egregiously obvious ones in a comment, it would be great for future installments, but I won't be going back to correct until I finish or November is over, whichever comes first. 

Future installments will feature other characters' POVs.  (There's a cast of dozens!)
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based on the world and characters created by JKRowling, for entertainment purposes only. No profit intended from my work, but all rights on my words are mine.
This project is AU from about Chapter 26 of Deathly Hallows, with a few background twists to events before then. This bit is rated PG, and runs just over 4,000 words.
Pairings: Harry/Luna, mention of Ron/Hermione, Remus/Severus


June 2008, London

Luna swirled her stirrer through her flat club soda and checked the clock behind the bar again.  The one that actually told the time, that is.  The larger clock's hands were swinging freely between 'Time to Party' and 'I'm cutting you off', depending on where the bartender happened to be looking.  Luna had arrived early since she had been in town to see her mediwitch, but everyone else she was expecting for dinner worked or lived in London.  They were all tremendously late.  In other circumstances Luna would have shrugged the collective tardiness off, but all seven of them?  On this day of all days?  She didn't know whether to be worried or angry.  

"Merlin, is that Loony Lovegood?  Hey, Lovegood!" 

Hearing her name -- and her old school nickname -- set her teeth slightly on edge, but she swiveled on her stool anyway.  Ellen Learey, who had been a year behind Luna in Ravenclaw and a bully even then, stood just behind her with five other young women wearing open outer robes over muggle-style dresses.  If Luna had to guess, she would say that the whole lot of them would be hitting a dance club after dinner. 

"Oh, hello Ellen."  Luna sipped her soda and looked the other girls over.  She recognized a few other faces as Hogwarts alumni, but no one she knew well.  "I saw your name in the Prophet.  Deputy Department Head, congratulations."  Luna felt that she might rather suffer through another fruitless and ill-equipped expedition to Scandinavia than be civil to Ellen Learey of all people, but in this life one didn't always get what one wanted.  At least it was unlikely that Ellen would try to freeze Luna's toes off, or eat her good parka.  Luna recalled certain memories of Ellen and reconsidered that.  Best to keep an eye out for Ellen's wand, then. 

Ellen preened at Luna's acknowledgement.  "Yes, I was pleased to be recognized after my years of service."  She gave Luna a blatant once over, lifting one eyebrow.  "You clean up well. No turnips these days? Got a hot date?" 

Titters at that from the audience.  Luna lifted her hand to the pearl drop hanging from her left ear.  She had lost her last dirigible plum earrings during her captivity, and felt their good luck had been well-spent since she had survived.  "Just a friend from school."  No need to go into any details, and certainly no need to let these girls raise her blood pressure.  Not only would her mediwitch have something to say about that, but these were just petty gossips lacking manners.  Luna had stared down the wands of Death Eaters. She had driven off Dementors. She had traded curses with Bellatrix LeStrange.  She told herself that mere words were less to endure than real curses, but she had never been quite able to master the indifference to words that Harry, Hermione, and Ron projected with such apparent ease.

"You knew Harry Potter at school, didn't you?" said a girl with purple-tinted hair from behind Ellen.  She waved a rolled-up magazine.  "Have you seen the latest from A Witch's Kitchen about him? Is it true?" 

Luna read most of Harry's press, largely so he didn't have to but could still keep abreast of any developments that might be a security concern.  But she did not need to let these women know that.  "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean - is he planning to take over the Ministry again, or is it the orphanage full of his illegitimate babies?" 

Ellen snorted.  "It's not as if this is The Quibbler, Lovegood.  Some of us live in the real world."  

Sharp, that pain, even after all this time. The magazine had recovered slowly, as had Xenophilius Lovegood, from the Death Eater attack that almost destroyed both.  Its stories now were as wild as ever, but there had been no politics in its pages, not even in jest, since the day the Aurors dug Xenophilius out of the rubble of his home. 

Another woman spoke up, a thin brunette who elbowed her way into the group to distribute drinks with a few well-directed levitation charms.  "Don't be such a bitch, Ellen."  Luna recognized her voice quite suddenly, and placed Dierdre McIntire in Hufflepuff from Luna's own year.  They'd been in many of the same classes.  "AWK has a long biopic about his engagement to an heiress from South America," Dierdre explained. "They say he met her while on assignment in Rio.  Can you believe it?"  

Luna, in fact, could not, and wished she had not been drinking when Dierdre said that, because even flat club soda hurt when one inhaled it. She had to clear her throat a few times before she could even attempt a reply, but by then some other girl, a stranger to Luna, had jumped in with a contradictory report from another tabloid, that Harry had been seen wining and dining a famous actress in Berlin and Vienna.  The Wizarding community in Vienna had been especially fawning of them when they attended an opera together, according to the report. 

Luna had seen those photographs when they first appeared, and recalled the sharp spike of jealousy she had felt, even knowing the woman's identity and Harry's reason for squiring her around the town.  It had been difficult for Luna to accept that emotion, to own up to it, even only to herself.  Jealousy was such an ugly thing to see in one's own face.  She made sure she had cleared it before Harry got home from that trip.

"Well," said one voice very clearly, from right near Luna, "I think that's all tripe, because it's clear as day to anyone looking that he's carrying a torch for Ginny Weasley from their school days."  

That sparked a new debate, and a catty one, since most of these women had known Ginny at Hogwarts.  There were the usual uncreative jokes about Harpies and cockteases.  They were not nearly as amusing when Ginny was not around to laugh out loud and counter with something in even worse taste from the locker room. 
 
Luna placed her empty glass on the bar and excused herself quietly.  Ellen licked pink salt from the rim of her glass and drawled, "Sure that hot date isn't imaginary, Lovegood?"  For a moment Luna felt herself reduced to a stumbling fifteen-year-old again, wishing she knew what to do with a body changing at a breakneck pace, knowing that she was an outcast but not understanding why, believing in the basic goodness of the universe even in the face of tragedy and horror.  Sometimes in the warm inaccuracy of nostalgia she missed those days, but when someone like Ellen threw insults in her face, Luna was ever so grateful to be twenty-seven and a survivor. 

"Yes, Ellen, I am," she said with the quiet calm that had been a desperate facade in her school days.  "I'll leave you to find one of your own, though."  Then she stood up and walked to the ladies' room, hoping that by the time she returned someone from her party would have arrived. 

Luna splashed her face with cool water and stared at her reflection above the sink for a few minutes.  She could not see any difference between her face two months ago and her face now, but she felt as though there should be something.  Something small, perhaps, just a tiny hint that she wasn't the old Luna, and hadn't been for weeks.  She patted her face dry on the towel offered by the elf attendant, and smiled despite her worries.  She may be Loony Lovegood to the world at large, but she was Luna to those who mattered.  They would understand that she was different, just as they had understood it in the immediate aftermath of the war.

When she stepped out of the ladies' lounge, she was just in time to feel the atmosphere in the bar change.  A man in finely tailored robes of midnight blue stood in low-voiced conference with the maitre'd, who had summoned three waiters to handle the resulting activity.  She watched the pull of fabric across his shoulders as the man gestured toward the main room, her smile growing wider.  Harry.   

She caught a glimpse of the party of Hogwarts alumni, still at the bar, and decided to linger in the shadows for a moment, just to see what happened.  Harry turned at last, in response to a tilt of the head and a few words from the maitr'd, and walked toward the bar.  It took Ellen and her friends long minutes to recognize him.  He'd changed from their school days, and not just the cosmetic. The absence of glasses, the longer hair that hid his famous scar, and the wide, half-healed burn scoring the left side of his face contributed to the change, but more than that his carriage and aura had grown more intimidating over the years. 

Destroying Voldemort had been only the beginning of the shift, and now there was no person in the room who would have described Harry Potter as a boy, or show-off, or a fake.  The word most people used when they met him for the first time was dangerous. 

When the moment of recognition came, the girls clutched each other in their excitement, and Dierdre was the first one to recover enough poise to speak without gibbering.  "Harry!  It's good to see you!  I haven't seen you since my Seventh Year Yule Ball."  She presumed a lot, addressing him so casually, but Luna knew how accustomed Harry had become to such things.  He hated it, but he knew better now how to deal with it.  And at least this time there was a tenuous connection - Dierdre had managed to imply that he knew her at Hogwarts. 

Harry's glance took in Dierdre and the others as he scanned the bar.  "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Miss... ?"  He left the title hanging so that she could fill in the blank, but Ellen leaped in first.

"Ellen Learey, Ravenclaw 2000.  That's Dierdre, Hufflepuff '99, and some of her classmates.  It's a regular Hogwarts reunion, isn't it?  Loony Lovegood is even here!" 

Luna knew a perfect cue when she heard one, and re-entered the room.  Harry turned his head with suspicious accuracy; he must have caught a glimpse of her red robes in his peripheral vision.  "So she is.  Old friends, are you?" he asked with quiet humor as Luna closed the distance between them. 

"Oh, yes," Luna said, letting her teeth show in what she hoped would pass for a smile.  "Ellen was always terribly helpful organizing my things in the dormitory." 

She knew by the curl of his lip that Harry recognized her reference to her chronically disappearing belongings. His gaze at Ellen and the other girls turned more speculative.   "Well, it's always pleasant to meet friends in new places." 

At that moment, the maitre'd himself came up to Luna's elbow and gave her a little bow.  "Mademoiselle Lovegood, your table is ready." 

Luna felt confused for a moment, since her guests had not all arrived, and it must have shown on her face.  She opened her mouth to ask if there was a mistake, but Harry gave a minute shake of his head.  While unsure of exactly what was going on now, Luna acknowledged Harry's hint and closed her mouth.

Ellen commented, "Eating alone, then?" 

Luna had never before wanted so badly to upend a drink over someone's head, not even the time at Draco's wedding when the groom had had to dare Harry to ask Luna to dance.  Instead, she reached over and pinched Harry's upper arm firmly between her thumb and forefinger. 

The girls stopped fawning to gawk at her audacity.  Even Ellen seemed speechless.  Harry yelped, far more loudly than was necessary, and rubbed his arm, giving her a wounded look.  "What was that for?" 

Luna looked directly at Ellen as she responded.  "Just making sure you weren't imaginary.  Shall we go?"  And she tried very hard not to feel vindictive triumph over the gobsmacked look on Ellen's face as the woman realized just who Luna had been waiting for all evening. 

Harry gently took Luna's elbow and steered her away, giving the maitre'd a broad smile.  "Lead the way, Monsieur Duval."  As they walked, Harry leaned down to whisper in Luna's ear. "You're going to be drinking on this story for weeks, aren't you?" 

Luna smirked up at him.  "Just like they'll be fueling fantasies on you for months?" 

Harry closed his eyes with a pained grin.  "Don't tell me that." 

Monsieur Duval led them to a small corner table, set for two, with a screen of greenery on one side offering limited shelter from the prying eyes of the rest of the restaurant. Luna paused at the sight. "My reservations were for eight." 

Harry smiled and gestured for her to sit in the chair being held by a young and nervous waiter.  "I told the others that we would reschedule our usual dinner.  Monsieur Duval was kind enough to adjust our reservation." 

Luna took her seat and waited for the various attendants to finish their dance around the table and leave.  Harry moved his chair so that he sat beside her rather than across, his back also to the wall.  Not coincidentally, that move placed him between Luna and anyone who might approach.  As another waiter quickly shifted the place settings, Harry had a brief and cheerful consultation with Monsieur Duval as he refused the menus, and then at last they were left alone.

Luna looked out across the main floor and took note of the many diners whose glances kept straying toward her corner.  "What happened to keeping things quiet?"  she asked, smoothing her fingertips along the tablecloth next to her knife. 

Harry's fingers twitched in the way Luna recognized as wandless casting, and the air between their table and the rest of the restaurant shimmered for a split second.  The ward had been a standard precaution during the height of the postwar clean-up, and Harry and Ron still used it during their long missions abroad, but Luna had rarely seen him employ it at home.  He had just ensured that he would have ample warning of any approach, as well as muting their conversation to anyone beyond the barrier who might try eavesdropping.

"Ron and I have been granted a transfer," he said, obviously trying for gravity but unable to keep from breaking out in a triumphant grin at every pause.  "Regional Task Force.  It's still a big job, but there won't be any more months-long assignments abroad." 

"Earhardt finally caved?"  Luna was amazed.  She had a bet with Hermione that Harry and Ron would be stuck on International for another 18 months at the least.  Their names had been on the short list for transfer to the London Auror division ever since the much-hyped capture of the LeStrange brothers in 2003, but the Ministry loved having Harry Potter as its star international field agent.  Harry had been putting pressure on his Order contacts for months to get his assignments curtailed now that the so-called 'Death Eater Menace' had ended.  Hermione had been convinced that Kingsley would move faster once the Wizengamot settled the last lingering wartime appeals, and she had been right.  "I owe Hermione a spa day." 

Harry chuckled.  "It's not quite London duty, you know, with the whole UK to cover.  But since I'll be home more often, I thought it was time to settle some of the gossip."

"You're outing us today?"  Shock rendered her voice an undignified squeak.

"Is today not a good day?"

Luna thought of the uncomfortable but exhilerating way she'd spent her afternoon.  "It's perfect.  I have news, too." 

Harry gave her a sharp look.  "You went to the Clinic.  Ginny said you wanted a flu potion." 

Luna let her wand slip down her sleeve into her hand and removed a manila folder the size of a postage stamp from her handbag.  With a flick, the folder grew to full file size, and she slid it to the corner of the table between her plate and Harry's.  "Not exactly. Take a look." 

Harry reached for the folder, but Luna stopped him with a touch to his wrist.  "No," she clarified.  "Don't pick it up, unless you want the world to know all our business.  Too many people out there," she tilted her head toward their silent audience, "will recognize the contents immediately.  Leave it flat." 

He flipped the folder open on the table, then, and looked for a long moment at the blurry image tucked inside.  The colors were muted, the movement slow.  Much of the outer image was too dark to make out any details, but in the center was a tiny pinprick the color of seafoam that flickered like a star, surrounded by whorls of pale blue and violet.  The effect was rather like looking at a candle flame underwater.  The shape was indistinct unless one knew what one was looking at, and after a moment of silence as he squinted and frowned, Luna realized Harry had no idea what it was. 

"The mediwitch printed my diagnostic.  It's much easier to see when she performs the charm, they're still tinkering with the transfer process."

Harry's finger gently traced the halo of light in the center of the picture.  "What exactly am I looking at?"

"Here."  Luna took Harry's hand to guide his fingertip to the biggest violet whorl.  "This is the head.  And a moving arm.  And this," she touched his finger to the flickering speck of light, "is the heartbeat."

His hand turned under hers to clutch hard at her fingers.  "A baby?" 

"Our baby."  Luna confirmed.  She squeezed his hand, not quite ready to look at his face again yet.  She knew he would be happy on some level, but...  "I know it's sooner than we planned."  He pulled his hand free of hers and she traced the colors herself, to cover her sudden nerves. "Charms and potions aren't one hundred percent effective.  But I --"

His fingers slid along her jaw, tilting her head up. She met his eyes, and found them bright with the kind of unfettered joy she had long thought lost to them all.  "Luna."  No one ever said her name like Harry did.  She curled one hand lightly around his wrist.  "You are amazing."  Then he kissed her, a delicate brush of lips that held reassurance and affirmation. 

"You really are feeding the newsies," she whispered as they parted. 

"They don't need this news," Harry said, flipping the folder closed over the diagnostic photograph.  "Not yet."  He shrank the whole thing again and pressed it into her hand.  "We'll have to have our next dinner party somewhere private." 

"We should invite Molly and my father, if you're planning an announcement."  She tucked the evidence away in her bag then let him reclaim her hand.  He pressed the backs of her fingers against his cheek, and nodded.  They were sitting that way, just looking at each other, when the gentle chime of Harry's ward let them know that a waiter was approaching. 

More than just a waiter, as it turned out.  A whole fleet of waiters bore trays of delicacies to their table.  Luna recognized what Harry had done immediately; this wasn't the first time he had pulled this trick, although usually he did it only for Order of the Phoenix reunion dinners, when restaurants could divide their attention among an entire table of heroes. 

The portions presented to them were tiny, served on plates the size of tea saucers.  Each dish was a work of art, perfectly proportioned for four mouthfuls.  One of the servers removed their entire centerpiece so that he could place the tasting tray in the center of their table.  Others filled their wine glasses, water glasses, and removed unnecessary cutlery.  After two minutes of beautifully choreographed motion, the waiters withdrew again.  

Monsieur Duval remained to introduce the chef, then he, too, left.  Chef Michel was too tall, too skinny, and too soft-spoken, in Luna's opnion, to be believable.  In Luna's mind, a chef should be quite large, quite loud, and quite likely red in the face.  Nonetheless Chef Michel knew his dishes inside-out.  His explanations filtered to Luna through a giddy haze as Harry caressed her fingers beneath the table. 

"Layers of thinly pounded salmon . . ."   Luna thought that perhaps now Harry would have time to look at houses with her.  He had repeatedly said he trusted her judgment, but she preferred to find something together, as they had the flat they'd shared since Ron and Hermione's wedding. 

"Sauteed calamari with sweet prawns. . ."  There was every chance that Molly would make this news a reason to pester Harry about the wedding.  Perhaps Ginny would have some ideas about distracting her mum.  Ginny had been fending off Molly's matchmaking for far longer than anyone else had managed.

"Seared Japanese kobe beef. . ."  Hermione would be thrilled that little Daniel would finally be getting a playmate who wouldn't need a days-long security check to be admitted to the nursery. 

"Rabbit ravioli with ragout of wild mushrooms. . ."  What would Luna's father think?  She still thought of him as fragile, despite his obvious will of steel.  Xenophilius had resisted the call of the dead for Luna, and she hoped that he never, ever felt that she took him for granted.  She would visit him to break the news in person, before Harry's dinner announcement.

"Bittersweet chocolate tart. . ."  Harry would want Teddy included as well. The boy would be getting his Hogwarts letter next April, but tearing him away from his father's study or his stepfather's potions lab would be a trial for the family.  Luna secretly felt that Teddy had special healing gifts, given the way Remus and Severus had fought their ways back to health and sanity for the child.  Or perhaps it was just the gift all children brought.  Years of strain had lifted from Harry's face the first time he saw Hermione's son.   

"Blood orange sorbet. . ."  What would Harry see in his own child?  Luna worried about him so much, not only when he was off in dangerous places, but when he was home, seemingly relaxed, yet never free of a foundation of pain and guilt.  She could remember the very first time she ever spoke to Harry on the Hogwarts Express, and even then his eyes had been old.  What kind of father would he make, who had never known a father's love until he was nearly grown?  What kind of mother would she make?  Her thoughts ran in frantic circles over that thought until she realized that the chef and his minions were looking at her expectantly.

"Oh," she said, forcing herself to smile, and indeed the dishes laid out before her were lovely and tempting.  "Bravo, Monsieur, very impressive."     

Harry had that look on his face that meant he knew she had no idea what had been said, but Chef Michel clapped his hands with satisfaction and bowed as he congratulated Harry (for what? Luna wondered) and took his leave. 

The silence echoed in their corner for a moment, then Harry broke down laughing, running his thumb along Luna's lower lip.  "You didn't hear anything he said, did you?"

Luna smiled and shook her head.  "Does it really matter?  Nothing poisonous, right?" 

"Nothing poisonous."  Harry's hand drifted from her chin down the side of her neck, raising goosebumps in its path.  When he reached the neckline of her robe, his smallest finger hooked beneath the fabric to snag the gold chain she wore beneath her clothes.  He tugged the chain free, pulling until the ring of braided gold strung on it dangled between them. 

Luna's eyes widened.  He had never before even hinted at the existence of that chain in public, let alone the ring.  "Harry?" 

"I want you to wear this.  If this evening is our debut, let's make it count."  He cupped his hand beneath the ring and spoke a single word that opened the clasp and let the chain and ring fall into his palm.  The chain wound itself into a figure eight and vanished.  The ring revolved slowly just above his skin, glittering as tiny sapphires became visible in the gaps in the braid. 

She stared, too shocked to speak, as he effortlessly removed the charms that had concealed the ring's true beauty from prying eyes.  The last to reappear was the engraving of their names on the inside, and as the spell dissolved the letters rewrote themselves in bright fire: Luna & Harry. 

"Shall I get down on one knee again?  Or both?" Harry asked, catching her attention, and her hand. 

Luna shook her head, still unable to articulate anything of sense.  Somehow this moment had always been more playful in her daydreams.  His first proposal -- Merlin, had it been two years? -- had been clumsy and impulsive, and Luna had been too drunk to understand what he was telling her until she'd had a sobering draught.

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