InsaneJournal

Nano Fanfic Part 4
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We'll return to Luna in the Malfoy cellars, oh yes we will.
But for now, something a bit different.
Pairings: Harry/Luna, Draco/OFC
Rating: PG-13

late June 2008, London

Madam Tennison had been the Lovegood family mediwitch for as long as Luna could remember.  She had started at a village practice in Ottery St Catchpole, and when she joined a larger London office, the Lovegoods followed her there. 

She was extremely competent and quite grandmotherly toward Luna, even if she had said that until Luna turned up pregnant she'd believed Luna's lover to be yet another figment of a creative imagination, much like the animal friends of her childhood.  Luna couldn't quite blame the old woman for that, considering that in the years following the war Luna had never once given the mediwitch the man's name. And only a few of her animals had been proven to exist, after all.   

She and Harry entered the reception area at midmorning.  Harry had taken the day off to enjoy the walk through Diagon Alley and into the deeper sections of Wizarding London.  There were several other patients sitting in the waiting area, which was nowhere near as interesting as the St. Mungo's arrivals area.  Only the elderly wizard in the corner looked like anything out of the ordinary, but it appeared that whatever had caused him to break out in purple and green polka-dots was fading. 

The receptionist was a young witch Luna didn't know, who did not even look up from her magazine as she directed her dictation quill. 

"Patient's name?"  

"Luna Lovegood." 

"Do you have an appointment?"  

"No, I've brought my fiance for a prenatal consultation with Madam Tennison.  She said she could squeeze us in if I came at this time." 

The woman didn't even pause, just flicked her wand so that the dictation quill dipped into a different color ink to make a notation.  "Fine.  Prenatal?  Do you want to record the father's name now?  Makes him medical proxy should any decisions need to be made at a time when you are unconscious or otherwise incapable of giving consent." 

Luna looked at Harry.  Harry made a small gesture with one hand, as if returning the question to her.  She could read the answer in his face.  Up to you.  Luna ran her thumb along the ring on her left hand and reminded herself that Harry was no longer keeping these things a secret. 

"Yes, I'd like that.  What do I do?" 

"His name?" 

"Harry Potter." 

There was a small part of Luna that absolutely reveled in the stunned silence that took over the waiting room, although the larger part was a bit exasperated at the thought that this would be the reaction every time they went anywhere. The receptionist had finally looked up from her magazine, mouth opening and closing as if she were a caminer fish eating light.  Her quill hovered above the parchment waiting for its instruction. 

Harry leaned on the ledge separating the desk from the rest of the room and inquired with some amusement, "Do you need me to spell that?" 

"N-no, Mr. Potter. Just, um, sign next to your name."  The dictation quill swiftly finished its work and the receptionist held the parchment out.  She stared from Harry's face to his hand as he wielded the desk quill. 

"And then you, Miss Lovegood."  Luna did not find the sight of Harry signing his name terribly riveting.  His penmanship was terrible.  She took the quill from him with a little sigh and added her own looping signature on the line next to her name.  The dictation quill's penmanship was almost as bad as Harry's toward the end of the document. 

Luna turned away from the desk and found the eyes of every person in the waiting room on her.  She reminded herself that she had faced down Death Eaters and school bullies.  She could handle the opinions of the Wizarding Public.  Harry reached over and took her hand, lacing their fingers together.  

"How soon do you think Madam Tennison will be able to see us?" he asked the receptionist, who had to stop gaping long enough to glance up at the clocks on the wall inside her cubicle. 

"She's just finishing up now, Mr. Potter.  Please have a seat, it shouldn't be long."  Then she got up and rushed into the back. 

Luna leaned into Harry, who bent his head to whisper in her ear.  "No hexes, Miss Lovegood."

She chuckled and let him lead her to a bench against the wall.  The only person who moved for a long moment after they sat down was the little girl working a jigsaw puzzle on the children's table. She couldn't be older than four, and was very forceful in her attempts to keep the puzzle together. The pieces kept trying to move out of her reach whenever she mated them incorrectly.  The girl's hair was dark enough to be Harry's; Luna projected herself into the future and wondered if her own child would one day beat jigsaw puzzles into submission.  The prospect made her stomach do a terrified little flip. 

Harry noticed the direction of Luna's gaze and squeezed her hand.  She was afraid for a moment that he might say something flippant, but he had gotten better at reading moods since their school days.  He said nothing, and kept watch, until Madam Tennison appeared in the door to the clinic proper.

"Miss Lovegood, Mr. Potter, come to the back, please," the mediwitch said with her usual brisk tone.  If she was as flustered as her employees over Harry's presence, she was certainly not showing it. 

While Luna had counted on the general Wizarding public to be cynical about her relationship, she had hoped that those who knew her as well as Madam Tennison did would take it better.  Instead, the mediwitch sat behind her desk, clasped her hands over her blotter, and looked from Luna to Harry and back with a frown of disapproval on her face.  "Sit down."  They sat, Harry never letting go of Luna's hand.  "Now," said the mediwitch with a sniff.  "What's this really all about?" 

"I beg your pardon?"  Luna was genuinely startled. 

"A publicity stunt?  Trying to increase circulation of your father's magazine, perhaps?  Or looking to see yourself in the Society pages? This is no way to acquire a husband, or a family." 

"Madam Tennison - " Luna began, but Harry cut her off.

"Are you trying to suggest that our baby could possibly be a tool in some - some underhanded scheme of Luna's -"

"Harry, please -" Luna tried to cut into the flow of his anger, even as his grip on her fingers tightened almost to the point of pain. 

"Mister Potter - and I would not have believed it if the signature had not been magically verified - Miss Lovegood is known to be high-strung, with a tendency to exaggeration," said Madam Tennison, even and reasonable as Luna had heard her speak to very small children and the very elderly.  Even her tone of voice was insulting. "She has a history of mental instability, including six months under out-patient psychiatric supervision from St. Mungo's.  She has had repeated employment troubles, unlike yourself, and has been known to use her wartime connections to gain publicity and advertising for her father's failing publishing enterprise. She has claimed to be in a relationship for six years and yet never mentioned a name or employment for her lover. You expect me to believe that she has brought you here now under anything but duress?  Even if the child she carries proves to be yours, can you be certain there was no coercion involved?"

Luna slumped in her chair, feeling rather like she had just been gutted, but Harry leaned forward, eyes blazing, and held up his hand.  Whether he actually silenced Madam Tennison or not, her flow of vitriol stopped. 

"How dare you, Madam?  Not only have you just betrayed every confidence a patient should have in her mediwitch, but you've given me ample reason to mention your name when we do hold our inevitable press conference.  And it won't be flattering."  Madam Tennison stared at him, and Luna could see in her eyes the awareness that she had provoked something more dangerous than she knew how to deal with.  Harry did not bother to soften his tone, or to ease his threatening posture.  At least he had not yet drawn his wand.  "Luna is braver - and more loyal - than you, any of you - could ever be, or understand."   He seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, and restraint won out.  He stood up, pulling Luna to her feet as well.

She leaned against him, and he let go of her hand to pull her into the shelter of his arm.  "If I ever hear that one single word out of your mouth just now has been leaked to the press, I will not pull my punches, Madam.  Do you understand me?" 

Madam Tennison did not gape like her receptionist, but she had a certain fish-like look about her nonetheless.  Few people these days witnessed even this mild form of Harry's anger.  He hadn't even reached for his wand.

"Do you understand me?" Harry repeated, leaning forward with one hand on her desk. 

Madam Tennison nodded as if her head were suddenly on a spring.  "Yes."  No sooner had the whisper left her lips than Harry had tightened his grip on Luna and apparated them both out of the clinic entirely. 

They reappeared at the apparition point in the lobby of Draco's office building, which was the closest known safe space.  Harry guided them into main reception, and the front secretary took one look at Luna and summoned a chair, a pot of tea, and Jenieve Malfoy, in that order. 

Luna hadn't realized her hands were shaking until she tried to lift her teacup.  Harry knelt beside her chair, covered her hands with one of his, and replaced the cup so that she didn't spill.  "Easy, love.  Luna."  She stared at their clasped hands, at the glimmer of sapphire on her left, at the chip in his fingernail, at the thin scar down the side of her thumb.  "Luna.  Look at me." 

The echoes of his earlier rage lingered in his face, but everything else was concern for her.  "Everything will be all right." 

"I'm not hurt," Luna said, so softly he had to lean forward to hear her.  "I am angry." 

Somehow that cleared much of the worry from his eyes.  "Good. You should be. That woman will regret having so little regard for her patients." 

A new voice interrupted, one with the barest hint of a French accent.  "Who will regret what?" 

Harry turned and looked up at the woman walking across the reception hall toward them.  She was quite plain of feature, this woman, except for her miles of sleek mahagony-colored hair, which she currently wore in piles of ringlets held atop her head with diamond-studded combs.  But Jenieve Malfoy had presence, a kind of energy that infected everyone within a wide radius, and she used her presence well.  She had gone to Beauxbatons with Fleur Weasley, but the two had run in very different circles.  No one had been more surprised than Fleur to see Jenieve give up, at least temporarily, the couture houses of the Paris fashion scene to marry Draco Malfoy upon his return from exile. 

Luna loved Jenieve.  "My former mediwitch, Jen," Luna said, then took a deep breath to steady her nerves, and her hands.  "I am in the market for a new one now, a trustworthy one.  Someone who can handle Harry."   Harry, seeing that she was recovering her poise, released her hands and stood up. 

"Ah, a betrayal of the worst kind.  So, a new mediwitch for Luna, here in London?  What about Hermione's?"  Jenieve slid her wand from her robe and levitated the teapot and cup, suggesting, "Shall we go back to the lounge?" 

With a nod of thanks to the front secretary, the three of them walked through the clean white corridors past unmoving Muggle photographs of far-off tropics, occasionally encountering a casually-dressed employee running an errand.  The building had two large rooms at either end of the floor offering unparalleled views of London and the Thames.  Draco's office was at one end; the private executive lounge was at the other.  Jenieve unlocked the door to the lounge with a murmured password and waved Harry and Luna inside.  Currently the only other occupant of the room was a massive black eagle owl on its perch near the only open window. 

"So.  Shall I call Hermione before I get the whole story?"  Jenieve had her hand on the delicate wristwatch she wore on her left arm, a wristwatch with several hands that could encode messages for anyone else who had a watch from the set.  The members of Luna's monthly dinner club each wore one, as did a few others.  All veterans of the war, or family.

"Go ahead," said Harry as he walked to the windows and looked out.  It was one of his favorite views. "She can take an early lunch."

Jenieve nodded and busied herself for a moment winding the correct message into the watch. They had all learned early on to differentiate urgent messages from more mundane communications, so as to prevent incidents like the one with Ginny and her bad date back in 2004, which resulted in several unnecessary breakages at a pub in South Wales, including the date's left arm. 

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