Gift for thilia!
Recipient: Thilia
Author: kamerreon
Title: The Price of Victory
Pairings: Harry Potter/Luna Lovegood, past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Rating: NC-17
Warning: AU-DH, het: male/female, violence, angst, canon character death, pregnancy, and sexual intercourse: both vaginal and anal (Luna receives both).
Word Count: 7,230 words
Summary: Harry kissed her as if he were a dementor and could consume her soul. That way, at least, they would always be together.
Notes: A minor amount of dialogue is quoted directly from canon. I’d like to thank Dec for audiencing. I hope you like it, Thilia! :D
Harry Potter stood atop the Astronomy Tower, peering over the edge to where Dumbledore had fallen almost a year ago. Somehow, he had always known that the final battle would happen here at Hogwarts. This was where everything had started, where Lord Voldemort had been born in the mind of a teenager, and it was only fitting that the monster would die here as well.
Perching on the parapet, he leaned his head back against the cold stone and stared up at the star-filled night. Sirius shone brilliantly, overpowering the other stars by far. It brought a slight smile to his face; he wasn’t alone. Perhaps, just perhaps, it was a portent of good things to come.
“Is that it, Sirius?” he asked, head lolling to the side and lips curling up in a wide grin despite the dire circumstances. “Are we going to win?” The star twinkled more brightly than before.
“Of course we are, Harry. Don’t you know that the nargles wouldn’t let him win?”
He turned, the grin on his face widening further as he stared at Luna Lovegood. She had put on most of the weight she had lost while in the Malfoys’ dungeon. Her blonde hair was silver in the moonlight, as silver as her eyes. The robes she wore were pale blue and threadbare, but they fit her-somehow complimenting her natural beauty.
“Oh, the nargles said we’d win, did they?” he teased gently.
“Yes, and the wrackspurts agree with them,” said Luna as she walked across the floor.
“Voldemort dies tomorrow?”
Luna nodded once, her face solemn. Her eyes, usually distant and unfocused, were sharp and intent on his face. “Voldemort dies tomorrow.”
“That would be brilliant.” Harry sighed and glanced back up at the starry sky. The night was warm, as expected of May, without a cloud or breeze in sight. He had always pictured the final battle occurring in the middle of a lightning storm with thunder, lashing rain, hail, and tornadoes. Somehow, the lack of all these set him on edge.
It felt like a false peace… a peace that had not been won and, therefore, could not last.
“Harry, can I keep you company tonight?”
“Hmm? Sure,” he absently replied, eyes all for Sirius, still. Harry felt like he could reach out and touch it, grasp it in his hand. Were stars hot or cold? He hoped they were hot; Azkaban had been cold because of the dementors, and he didn’t want to think that Sirius was suffering even after his death.
A rustling sound drew his attention, and he craned his neck to see Luna’s robes fluttering to the ground. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes perused her body. She was slender, but fit. The time spent at Shell Cottage had done wonders for her. Her nipples were golden peaks against her ivory skin, glittering in the moonlight as if she had dusted them with something. As he watched, stunned, she curled her fingers in the waistband of her plain knickers and peeled them off her body, revealing a thatch of silvery curls.
“Lu”-he coughed and pressed his palm against his growing arousal-“Luna, what are you doing?” His voice couldn’t seem to decide if it wanted to drop three registers or squeak off the scale. “Not that I’m complaining… because you’re beautiful, and, er, naked, and… wow…” His eyes trailed over her calves, which were particularly muscular, and back up her slim thighs to the heat of her.
“Keeping you company,” said Luna as she pointed her wand at the stone floor beneath her robes. Harry missed the incantation (for obvious reasons), but he figured it must have been a softening charm or a cushioning charm when she settled on the floor as if it were the most luxurious of beds.
“Er-right.” She had asked if she could keep him company, but he just hadn’t expected this kind of company. His cock twitched, hardening rapidly as she splayed out and parted her legs. Before he could even attempt to form a coherent thought (not that he would have much luck under the circumstances), Luna’s hand delved between her legs and wriggled inside her. “Fuck!”
“Yes, that is the idea, Harry,” Luna panted as she pressed down against her fingers. Her chest heaved, sweat starting to glisten across her skin.
Unable to bear it, Harry tore open his trousers and shoved his hand inside, wrapping his fingers around his prick and stroking it desperately. He had gotten little relief in the past year, and almost no private time, and the neglect showed in how quickly he came-almost instantaneously. Blushing, he pulled his hand from his trousers and wiped it on them.
“Don’t waste it, Harry!” Luna cried, hand stilling between her thighs.
“What?” he asked, gaze centered on her frozen fingers.
“If you don’t want it, I do. Come here,” she ordered. Harry might as well have Apparated for the speed with which he appeared at Luna’s side. She used her unoccupied hand to grasp his wrist and bring his dripping hand to her mouth, then proceeded to lick his seed off of it.
“Fuck, Luna.” Harry groaned, riveted by the sight of her pale pink tongue lapping across his semen-covered hand.
“I told you,” she moaned around his fingers, “that’s the idea.” She released his now-clean hand and grasped his half-hard cock through his open trousers.
“Oh!” The repetitive statement finally registered in his head, and his prick went from half-hard to hard right away. So quickly, in fact, that he wondered if she had spelled all the blood in his body to travel straight to it.
“This works better if”-Luna whimpered and thrust hard against her hand-“if you’re naked, Harry.”
“Naked… right.” Harry gulped and hastily tore his clothes off, unheeding of where they might land; his shirt went flying off the edge of the tower and fluttered to the ground below. Oh well. He didn’t really need it anyway. His trousers tangled at his ankles, and it took him several moments to realize that they would come off more easily if he weren’t wearing his trainers. He removed the pouch from around his neck and shoved it in one of his shoes. Then, finally, he was naked.
His thick cock slapped against his stomach, dribbling pre-come all over his skin, and Luna’s fingers slipped through it. Her nails skipped along his skin teasingly, and then taunted his erection before repeating the pattern.
Sensations ripping through his body, Harry leaned down to satisfy his curiosity. Her nipples were, in fact, painted with something that tasted an awful lot like honey. He suckled on her right breast and nipple until it tasted of sweat and skin and then transferred his attention to her left.
“Multitask, Harry!”
What? His mind was hazy with lust and desire, rational thought having fled long ago. All he knew was heat, naked skin, and the feel of her hand pumping him mercilessly. “What?” he asked, surprised that his voice actually worked, words muffled by the plump flesh of her breast in his mouth.
“Suck and fuck.”
Suck and fuck? That sounded brilliant. “Yeah, okay.” He grasped her wrist, pulled her hand away from her crotch, and then pinned both her wrists above her head. She struggled for a moment, ceasing only when she was sure she couldn’t escape his hold. “That good?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Sniggering, Harry shook his head. Only Luna… only Luna. He shifted so that he was lying between her thighs, teeth still latched onto her breast, and then sank into her in one long thrust. It was tight, very tight, and hot, and wet, and oh fuckity fuck!
“Mmm, you fit nicely,” said Luna, smiling up at him with approval, her pupils so wide that her eyes resembled black holes more than anything else. “Proceed.”
So he did. He thrust and arched inside her, rolling his hips to reach as deeply as he could. Luna kept twisting beneath him, wrapping her legs around his waist, then hooking them over his shoulders, and then (honestly!) she folded them behind her head. That’s when Harry totally lost what little control remained and climaxed inside her, semen shooting out to bathe her clenching walls.
“God, Luna, that was…” Harry groaned and claimed her lips in a vicious kiss, almost biting at them. Nothing had ever felt that good before. As she had said, he fit perfectly inside her, and she felt brilliant around him, clamping down and massaging his prick with her muscles.
Luna huffed, sending a strand of blonde hair fluttering away from her rosy cheeks. “We’re not done yet.” She squeezed her muscles, and his cock (thank God, he was a teenager) began hardening inside her once again.
He blinked sweat from his eyes and lifted a hand to shove his soaked hair back and away from his face. “We’re not?” Fuck, this was the best kind of torture. His hips gave a stuttering thrust, but she unfolded her legs and used them to push him out of her. “Luna?”
“Not like that, silly. That won’t help the baby.”
Harry froze, as if he had been Petrified, and stared down into her bottomless eyes. “What?” he croaked. “What baby?”
“Ours, of course.” Luna rolled her eyes and kissed his cheek gently. “What do you think sex under the full moon makes, Harry?”
“Er-um-a baby?” he asked, still in shock. She was pregnant? He had just gotten Luna pregnant? He was going to be a father? “I’m going to be a father,” he mumbled as joy cascaded through him. They would be a family-together-him, Luna, and their child. He leaned down and smothered her flat stomach in kisses. “You’re sure?”
“Yes, Harry, I’m sure. Everyone knows that.” The words were gentle, not condescending, and he let them wash over him and absorb in his mind. “I’ve always loved you, see, and even though you love Ginny, I want a part of you for after the war.”
The words felt like a Bludgeoning Hex to his throat, collapsing his esophagus and disallowing him the ability to breathe. “N-no!” He tightened his grip on her wrists, hard enough to bruise, but she didn’t complain. “No Ginny. That’s been over for-this is my child, Luna, and you’re mine now, and we’ll be a family together.”
The dazed sheen to her eyes was all shock this time, not fantasy or the miracles of her imagination; he could tell the difference. Her head rolled to the left, and her lips parted on a gasp, as if he had done something completely unexpected (or as if a Crumpled-Horned Snorkack was peering over his shoulder).
“You mean that,” she whispered, straight white teeth sinking into her lower lip. “You really mean that, don’t you, Harry?”
“Yes,” he growled, sinking his prick back into her wet folds to stake his claim all over again. “Everything that you are is now mine.” He had wanted a family his entire life, and he knew he would be a good father-completely unlike his Uncle Vernon-and Luna would be a perfect mother: loving, sweet, dedicated to family and him. Maybe this opportunity, this promise of a life after he killed Voldemort, was why Sirius shone so brilliantly tonight.
“Will you swear to it?” asked Luna, voice quavering with love and hope.
Harry’s hips stilled and he kissed her lips gently, lingering there for several minutes as he explored the mother of his child. “Yes,” he breathed against her jaw. “I will.”
Luna fumbled in an attempt to escape his hold, but he didn’t release her. She relaxed beneath him, suddenly looking more secure and right. Harry felt like he had just passed his O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s with straight Outstandings. This, he decided, was how life was supposed to be. “We need our wands,” she said, “for the vow.”
“Right. Don’t move,” he ordered as he removed his hands from her wrists. She didn’t, lying still and compliant beneath him, his cock still inside her as he dug through the discarded clothes to find both their wands. Once he had them, he pressed them between her hands and entwined their fingers around both of them. He only wished he was in possession of his holly wand and not Malfoy’s hawthorn one; it would have to do.
“Do you swear to accept our child?”
“I do.”
“Do you swear to accept me?”
“I do.”
“Do you swear to live for us?”
Red eyes and scaly skin surfaced in his mind, followed by black cloaks, white masks, green flashes of light, and ragged screams. Tomorrow, the Death Eaters would come-there was no doubt about that. Yet Luna had promised earlier that they would win; he believed her, could do nothing but believe in the gorgeous witch beneath him who was offering him everything that he had ever wanted.
“I do.” A third ribbon of light lashed out and sealed into their wrists. A child, a wife, a family-there could be no better reason to swear an Unbreakable Vow. He finally had a reason to live…. Grinning, Harry swooped down and engaged her tongue in a fierce duel, tasting and learning his lover and future bride.
Luna tore her lips away, chest heaving as she gasped for air. “We don’t have much time, Harry.”
“For what?” he asked as he bit along her neck.
“To make the baby as strong as it can be,” she replied, eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks as she clenched around him.
“What do I have to do?” he asked. He would do anything to make sure that their child was safe and powerful.
“I’ve had your seed in my mouth and my vagina,” Luna said as she panted under him. “There’s only one place left.”
Harry blinked in shock, unsure if he had heard her properly. “You want me to…?”
“Fuck my arse, Harry? Yes,” she replied, while using her legs to push him from her vagina again. “In the next half-hour, please. The sooner, the better.”
Gulping, Harry relaxed his grip just enough for her to roll onto her stomach, then tightened it again. His eyes locked on her arse; it was beautifully rounded, pale, with nary a mark to mar the white skin. He would admit that he loved girls’ bums, found his eyes drawn to them even more than to breasts-despite his dorm-mates’ assurance that breasts were heavenly-and that he had fancied fucking one a time or two. However, he hadn’t thought a girl would ever let him, and he would never have been crass enough to ask.
“Right. Don’t move,” he said before letting go of her wrists and smoothing his hands down her back. He palmed her cheeks in his hands, massaging them and spreading them to stare at the small, pink hole. It was tinier than her vagina, and he imagined it would be tighter as well. The thought sent what little remained of his intelligence elsewhere.
Harry grabbed the hawthorn wand and pressed the tip against her hole. He mumbled the lubrication charm he had become so familiar with in second year when he got his first morning erection. The liquid coated her insides and dribbled out, traveling down her crack to mix with his seed in her vagina. Ravenous hunger swept through him, and it took the rest of his concentration to remember a loosening and stretching charm.
Fingers bruised her pale skin as he grasped her hips and pulled her to her hands and knees. “Stay like this,” he commanded before grasping his cock in one hand and parting her cheeks with the other. Harry nudged against her hole determinedly until it gave way and let him inside. “So fucking tight,” he hissed. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he barely kept himself from slamming balls deep inside her.
He bent forward, pressing his chest to her back, and then tangled his fingers with hers, pushing them into the softened ground. Blanketing her body felt right, as if he had been made for this-or so his deepest desires purred to him. Deeper. Deeper. Deeper. More. In. Harry pressed his forehead between her sweaty shoulder blades, worrying the skin there with his teeth once his balls brushed her backside. He was finally fully seated.
Being inside a girl’s bum, he decided, was much better than he had imagined it would be.
“All right?” he bit out.
“You fill me so perfectly here, too.” She trembled beneath him, pushing back the slightest bit, and that was all the permission he needed to continue. Harry’s cock plunged inside her repeatedly, pleasure avalanching through him. It wasn’t all that different from being inside her vagina, though the dampness was artificial. It was still tight and hot and Luna.
He skimmed one hand down her body, stopping to pinch her nipples. She cried her delight, bringing a smug smirk to his face. She was so responsive. Fuck! As his orgasm neared, his hand traveled lower, fingers slipping between her wet folds and deep into her body. He moved them in time with his hips, feeling more possessive than he could ever remember feeling in his entire life. Then he fingered her clit and she came for him, his name on her lips, spilling from her soft tongue-just where it belonged.
His hands clutched her hips desperately and he pounded into her, driving through the quivers of pleasure, but not hard enough to harm her. When the pressure got unbearable, he threw his head back and roared, “Luna!” His cock twitched inside her, flooding her bum with his seed, before reluctantly withdrawing.
Harry collapsed beside her and pulled her back against his chest, wrapping both his arms and legs around her protectively. He gave her wand to her, and then grabbed Malfoy’s. He wasn’t ready to move yet, but he wouldn’t leave them unprotected. His free hand caressed down her body, the heel of his palm resting against Luna’s lower stomach, even as his fingers cupped her crotch.
“You’re all mine,” he said, lips kissing her sweaty hair where it draped across his chest like a flag of surrender. She had surrendered-to him.
Luna sighed happily and rubbed her cheek against the sparse hair on his chest. “Always have been,” she mumbled, mouth stretched in a wide yawn, “even when you were Ginny’s.”
Sparing only a passing thought for his previous girlfriend (who had offered him neither a child nor a decisive reason to commit to an Unbreakable Vow), Harry licked the large bruise on Luna’s shoulder. It bore his teeth marks, but the sight didn’t embarrass him. The primitive well of magic inside him rippled with delight each time he saw it.
“That means I’m yours,” Luna said dreamily. “It’s how wizards marked their mates centuries ago.”
“Good, then no one else will touch you.” The thought of anyone else’s hands on her: Malfoy, Lestrange, hell, even Ron’s, made hatred swell inside him; the tip of the hawthorn wand glowed sickly-green, and he almost dropped it in surprise.
“No one else will touch me,” she affirmed as she laid her head on his chest. Long after she had fallen asleep, Harry’s hand was still in the same position, covering their child and her entrance-both his.
When the sun rose over the horizon hours later, Harry was still awake and guarding his family. Where sleep should have pulled at him, dragging him down into Morpheus’s embrace, it didn’t. He felt as if he had just swallowed a gallon of Pepperup Potion. Adrenaline surged through his veins, keeping his eyelids from drooping behind his glasses. It would all end today.
Wanting nothing more than to slide back into Luna’s heat, Harry forced himself to abstain. He still hadn’t found Ravenclaw’s Diadem, and the Death Eaters wouldn’t leave Hogwarts alone for long; he expected an assault within a few hours. There was no time to waste… not even for love.
Harry’s lips smothered Luna’s face with tiny kisses until her eyes opened; they looked as beautiful in the sunlight as they had last night. Her hair was no longer silver, but a vibrant blonde, tangled and knotted from their physical exertions. Her lips were puffy, slightly raw, and bruises littered her flesh. Every bit of her body spoke of Harry’s presence.
“Harry?” she mumbled as she nuzzled his chest.
“It’s time to get up,” he whispered, breath tickling her ear as he nibbled her earlobe. “There’s still work to do.”
“Right.” Luna yawned, tongue curling out of her mouth like a cat as she stretched. Her bum rubbed against him, and he suffocated the need to make love to her once again. There would be time for that later, once he had successfully vanquished Voldemort.
They untangled themselves, casting cleaning and grooming charms at each other along the way, and then donned what remained of their clothes from the night before. The robes they had used as a bed were torn in places, but her knickers were fine, as were his trousers. He Transfigured her knickers into robes he could wear. They yanked on everything else and then stared at the rising sun.
“This is it….” It felt surreal, the knowledge that the war was almost over. This whole situation felt like the best kind of dream, which scared him. Fate loved playing with his life, and he worried about what it had in store for him next.
“Remember your vow,” said Luna, eyes firmly fixed on his as her small hand clutched his. “You’ll live for us.”
“I will,” he promised. He would live for his child and Luna-his wife in all but name.
“Be safe,” she whispered, rising on her tiptoes to seal her lips against his.
He circled her neck with his hand, fingers stroking the bite mark that barely peeked out of the collar of her robes. “You too.” He opened the door to the tower and led them down the many stairs, pausing only when they reached the bottom.
“Go, Harry. It’s your destiny.”
Harry drew her into one last, passionate kiss and then sprinted through the hallways. He knew that she would make her way safely back to the Room of Requirement, and that’s all that mattered. The Death Eaters weren’t here yet; it was safe for a while longer.
“Harry, where’ve you been?” Ron asked as he skidded around a corner on the third floor.
“Not now, Ron,” he said as they headed to find the Grey Lady. She had to know where the diadem was-she had to. It was their last chance to find it. Voldemort wasn’t going to wait forever.
“Where were you?” Hermione asked, echoing Ron as they raced through the hallways. “You’ve been missing for hours. We were all worried!”
“Not now, Hermione,” he repeated. He couldn’t think about Luna now, because he knew if he did he wouldn’t want to leave her side. He couldn’t think like that; his place was firmly in the middle of this battle, the general at the head of the lines.
“You were gone all night!” Ron gasped as they clambered up a staircase, despite the fact it was moving. “Did you sneak off to shag some bird?” Ron wiggled his eyebrows.
Harry abruptly halted, grabbed Ron, and then slammed him against the wall of the floor they had just reached. “She is not ‘some bird’!” he snarled.
Ron gulped. “Right… sorry!”
“Honestly, Harry, he didn’t mean anything by it!” Hermione admonished, eyes wide as she stared at his hands fisted in Ron’s shirt.
Harry closed his eyes and resisted the urge to bang his head against the stone wall. “I know. I know. Just-leave it be, all right?”
“Yeah, all right,” Ron said, apologetic confusion on his face. “Um… just-it wasn’t Gin, was it?”
“Ron”-Hermione smacked his arm-“she’s been searching for Harry with us, remember?”
“Oh, right! Never mind, then. Let’s go talk to the Grey Lady, yeah?”
“Yes, let’s.” Harry stepped back and began running again. Voldemort wasn’t patient in the least, and Harry imagined he would be even more impatient on a day like today. The Ministry had fallen, wizards and witches had either fled the country or were cowering in their homes, and Hogwarts was all that stood against him-the last line of resistance.
Once they finally found her, it didn’t take long to get the truth from her. Ravenclaw’s Diadem was at Hogwarts in the Room of Hidden Things. In fact, Harry remembered seeing it when he had hidden the Half-Blood Prince’s book in there.
The castle shook around them, the siege having begun, and they sped past Tonks, Ginny, and others as they headed for the Room of Requirement. Harry paced outside the blank wall thinking, I need the place where everything is hidden. He yanked open the door when it materialized, awed once again at how massive the room was; its ceiling was as high as a cathedral’s.
“Accio Diadem!” Hermione shouted. Nothing happened.
“Let’s split up,” Harry said desperately. The next few minutes were spent wandering down aisles and sorting through junk. Many things had been hidden here over the years, and piles of forgotten rubbish blocked some aisles. He had seen it before; he knew he had! It was somewhere around… there!
Just as he was reaching for the discolored tiara, the last voice he ever wanted to hear again sounded behind him. “Hold it, Potter.” He turned to see Draco Malfoy and his two cronies: Crabbe and Goyle. “That’s my wand you’re holding.”
“Not anymore.” Frustration surged through him. He hadn’t made it this far to be stopped by the likes of Malfoy. “Winners, keepers, Malfoy. Who’s lent you theirs?” When Malfoy answered, Harry wondered if his mother would have let him use her wand in the same situation. He was sure she would have; she had loved him enough to die for him, after all.
“Harry? Are you talking to someone?” Ron asked, voice echoing through the room. That was just the distraction Harry needed. Crabbe spun and cast a spell at the mountain of junk between them and Ron.
“Finite!” Harry yelled, breathing a sigh of relief as it stabilized. Harry ignored the fighting Slytherins and dove for the diadem. The Cruciatus Curse Crabbe threw at him missed, thankfully, but it hit the stone bust the diadem was resting on, sending it through the air to land in a pile of junk.
The next few minutes were something of a blur, though Harry remembered ordering Hermione to look for the diadem as he and Ron dueled the Slytherins. Killing Curses bypassed him and Ron, and he was never more grateful for how incompetent Malfoy’s friends were. Malfoy seemed particularly upset with them, his voice growing more shrill with each lethal curse they cast.
He wasn’t sure what spell Crabbe used to create the magical flames that looked like chimera, but he had no intention of sticking around long enough to find out. He tossed brooms to Ron and Hermione, and then snagged one for himself and shot into the air. For just a moment, as he peered down through the flames at Goyle and Malfoy, he wanted to leave them there. Death by fire seemed fitting, but he couldn’t do it.
After Ron and Hermione hefted Goyle and got him out of there, Harry grabbed Malfoy, ignoring the blond’s shrill shrieks to get out of the room just long enough to swoop down and pull the diadem out of the heap of rubbish. Mere moments after they escaped the Room of Hidden Things and the door closed behind them, the diadem screamed and crumpled to ash.
Hermione mumbled something about “Fiendfyre” while staring at the remnants of the Horcrux, but Harry didn’t pay her much attention. Victory was humming beneath his skin, prickling it with hope. Nagini was the only one left, and then Voldemort would be mortal.
The vision showed him the way: The Shrieking Shack.
Neither Death Eaters nor Acromantula could keep him away. Nagini was inside, and that overrode every other concern; there was no room for thoughts of his unborn child or Luna, not ones that he could focus on anyway. He winced, forcing them away as soon as they surfaced. He couldn’t be distracted… not now. They were so close to finishing all of this.
Shaking, Harry crawled the rest of the way through the tunnel, removing his Invisibility Cloak to stare down at Severus Snape. Snape’s hand grabbed the front of his robes and pulled him close. “Take… it….”
As Voldemort’s voice rang through the air, amplified by magic, offering patronizing words about “fighting valiantly,” Hermione gathered the silver strands of memories from the floor. They hurried back to the castle, the threat of “one hour” echoing in Harry’s head.
The Great Hall was full of dead bodies: Fred, Remus, Tonks… and he fled from it, clutching the flask of memories in his hands, deserting Ron and Hermione to the carnage. His task wasn’t over, not yet. It didn’t take long to reach Dumbledore’s office and get inside, nor to heft the massive Pensieve onto Dumbledore’s desk. Just for a while, he needed to escape his own head.
Harry plunged into the memories.
When he surfaced-hours? minutes? days?-later, numbness swept through him. So this was it, was it? The end of the line. He had to die; there was no other option, not if Voldemort were really to die today. He stumbled to his feet, wrapped himself in the Invisibility Cloak, and then lurched through the hallways.
Today he would sacrifice his life to save that of his wife and unborn child-just as his father had sacrificed himself almost two decades ago for him and his mother. Fate, it seemed, had a twisted sense of amusement-ensuring that history would repeat itself again.
He would never know if Luna had borne him a son or daughter; he wouldn’t get to name or hold his child; he would never know what his baby looked like; he would never get to marry Luna and confess his love in front of their surviving friends and family. There was so much that he had never considered before today. He had never allowed himself to think of dying, losing, and now that single piece of knowledge consumed him.
His death was inevitable and here. Now.
It took entirely too much effort to stop himself from looking for his friends, because he wanted to see them just once more before he walked to his death. It was better this way, of course. One look would never be enough. How could it be?
Harry paused beside Neville, who was bending over a body, and lowered his cloak. “Neville?”
“Blimey, Harry, you nearly gave me heart failure!”
Wincing, Harry shook the thought away. Neville had survived here at Hogwarts all year long, holding out against the Carrows and protecting the other students in the D.A. He could do it; he could kill Nagini. “You know Voldemort’s snake, Neville?”
Blond eyebrows shot upward, creasing a bruised forehead. “What about it.”
“It’s got to be killed. Ron and Hermione know that, but just in case they-” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.
“Kill the snake?”
“Kill the snake!” he confirmed.
Once Neville agreed to his request, as Harry had known he would, he yanked the Invisibility Cloak back over himself and headed into the entrance hall. Voldemort had said “one hour.” Harry reckoned that he had about thirty or so minutes left.
He felt a hand close around his arm. It was small, pale, the skin smooth and slightly bruised from where he had clasped it tightly hours before. “Luna.” She must have seen him talking to Neville and followed him, despite the cloak.
“You’re going to him in the forest.” It wasn’t a question. She knew him well.
“Yes.”
Luna inhaled deeply, chest shuddering. “You have half an hour left.” Thus saying, she tugged him into a small side-room, where he had once stood as a first-year waiting to be Sorted, and Locked and Silenced the room around them. Before he could say anything, she grabbed her robes and flipped them up, revealing smooth thighs and her unclothed crotch. “Make me yours, again.”
A split-second later his trousers were down at his ankles, Luna was against the wall, her legs enfolding his waist, and his cock was as deep in her as he could get it. Harry buried his face in her neck, breathing in her scent: jasmine and something indefinable. He rocked into her over and over, relishing each moan of delight that escaped her throat.
He knew he should tell her what he had found out in the Pensieve, but he couldn’t voice the words. He didn’t want their last time-fuck, their last time-to be ruined by the inevitable. So he sank his teeth into her neck and pounded her into the wall, the sound of flesh slapping into flesh resounding in the room. With a shudder, Harry came, flooding her passage with his come as she clamped down on him and moaned his name. “Harry. Harry. Harry.”
Harry withdrew his cock from her heat and kissed her as if he were a dementor and could consume her soul. That way, at least, they would always be together.
“Remember your vow,” said Luna as she slid down the wall to land on her feet, robes sinking to cover her semen-splattered thighs.
He bit his tongue to keep the tears from showing. “I love you.”
“And I love you, Harry Potter.”
Harry fastened his trousers with trembling fingers and then turned and walked away without looking back. He couldn’t have more than twenty minutes left, and he was already fighting the urge to grab Luna and Disapparate to a foreign country-somewhere where they could be anyone other than Harry Potter and his almost-wife.
His hands fisted as he left the castle and wandered into the Forbidden Forest. Just as his father hadn’t been able to teach and protect him, he wouldn’t be able to provide for his child. Voldemort was the worst kind of disease, a plague that savaged love and families… and Harry’s death was the only vaccine. That’s the only reason he could keep placing one foot in front of the other.
The Snitch in the pouch around his neck opened when he said, “I am about to die,” and gifted him with the Resurrection Stone. Even when his parents, Lupin, and Sirius joined him, walking through the dementor-ridden forest, he felt no urge to use it. The past was just that, and it wouldn’t change anything. The stone had, in fact, been Dumbledore’s downfall.
Following the bumbling Death Eaters was a simple matter, and then he was there: a clearing filled with Death Eaters that had a fire in the middle of it. Voldemort stood, as heartless and hideous as he had ever been. Shoring up his courage, reminding himself that this would guarantee Luna and his child survived, even though he wouldn’t, Harry whisked off the Invisibility Cloak.
“Harry Potter,” Voldemort said softly. “The Boy Who Lived.” He stared at the lipless monster, absorbed in thoughts of a future that would never be, until he saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone.
When he opened his eyes, some immeasurable time later, he realized he was lying naked in mist. “So this is what it’s like to be dead?” he asked himself. Thumping and whimpering noises sounded nearby, and he wished for clothes; they appeared. What if this was a dream? What if this had all been a dream and he was still in the Room of Requirement the night before the final battle?
“No,” he admitted, “my imagination’s not that good.” He might have been able to invent some of it, but not Snape’s memories, not the Fiendfyre, not making love to Luna in such detail, and not the thought of a child-his child.
The whimpering grew louder, and Harry wondered if a child were trapped in this massive white place with him. He walked toward the sound, but a voice stopped him. “You cannot help.” It was Dumbledore, Headmaster Dumbledore. Stunned, he followed the man away from the child.
“But you’re dead,” said Harry. Dumbledore didn’t disagree. “Then… am I dead too?” Was death a large white place that resembled King’s Cross?
“Ah, that is the question, isn’t it? On the whole, dear boy, I think not.”
“Not?” Harry repeated, just to be sure. Because if he wasn’t really dead… did that mean he could just wake up in the Forbidden Forest? Did it? Because if he could, if that were a possibility, that would mean he had kept his promise to Luna.
As Dumbledore wove a fantastical tale about his scar being the last Horcrux, about Voldemort having used his blood in the ritual and rebuilt his body from that, Harry allowed himself to hope. According to Dumbledore, Harry couldn’t die while Voldemort was still alive. Because Harry wasn’t dead, not really, only the Horcrux inside of him was.
Talk turned to the Deathly Hallows, to wands and ownership… and then Harry understood. Malfoy had Disarmed the Headmaster, and Harry had Disarmed Malfoy. Voldemort might possess the Elder Wand, but it wasn’t really his and wouldn’t work for him. “Or would it?” Harry whispered so softly that Dumbledore didn’t hear as he continued to ramble. Harry had stood there and let Voldemort hit him with the Killing Curse, after all.
“Can I go back?” he asked feverishly, hope and desire spearing through his veins like molten lava. Could he return to Luna and his unborn child? To a future and a chance for happiness?
“That is up to you.”
“I’ve got a choice?” he asked, just for clarification. Not that it would be much of a choice, because it wouldn’t. Just as his father would have wanted to return to him and his mother, he sought to do the same.
“Oh yes,” Dumbledore said.
Ignoring whatever else the venerable Headmaster might say, Harry leapt to his feet. He searched the station frantically, traipsing from one end to the other for a way out, but none appeared. There were no doors, no windows, no fireplaces to Floo from, and he couldn’t Disapparate.
Panic caught in his throat as two lines played through his head.
“Do you swear to live for us?”
“I do.”
Harry swallowed roughly, tears streaming unheeded down his cheeks as he stared at the lone train in the station. This wasn’t what he had expected, not at all. If Dumbledore hadn’t appeared, if Harry really had been dead… he could have lived (bad word choice, Harry, he thought snidely) with it. But Dumbledore had said… Dumbledore had said…
“What happens if you break it, then?” he asked no one, repeating his exact words about the Unbreakable Vow from over a year ago. Ron wasn’t present, but Harry hadn’t forgotten the answer. “You die.”
Stumbling, as if he had single-handedly downed a jug of firewhisky, eyesight blurry despite the sharpness it had had since he woke, Harry wandered over to the bench the now-silent, flayed child rested beneath and crashed onto it. Pain radiated throughout his body, but he paid it no mind.
In vowing to stay alive, he had condemned himself to death. How was that for irony?
Ages passed, and he never moved from the bench. He waited, and waited, and waited. He waited so long that Harry couldn’t even remember why he was waiting anymore. This white place, the train station, surely he had always been here? Surely he had always been alone; there had never been a man with a long beard or a small child, had there? No, there hadn’t.
“You’re all alone. And barmy, I expect.” He chuckled, voice rough and raspy from disuse. He didn’t feel the pain of it, though, because he couldn’t feel anything. Had he ever felt anything? What were feelings? He knew he should remember something about a thing called ‘love’ and how it was related to… the moon, maybe?
A white-hot poker seared through his right hand, driving bolts of lightning into his nerves one at a time. Tortured screams butchered their way out of his throat and past his lips. Something long and hard ruptured the skin on his hand, sending blood arcing through the air to stain the world of white innocence. It lengthened and wriggled from his flesh until it escaped his body, falling to land in his now-healed hand.
Something tickled at the back of his mind-some long forgotten story about wizards, wands, and items that controlled death. A tale of war, fighting, and hopelessness until the very end, when hope blazed just long enough to be cruelly snuffed out. A promise of love and a family… of-Harry squeezed his eyes shut against the sandpapery grit.
“Luna,” he whispered, tongue thick and clumsy in his mouth.
“Harry.”
His eyes shot open and met silver ones as disbelief coursed through him. She couldn’t be real…. “What?” His fingers spasmed, and he glanced down to see the Elder Wand-was it?-clutched tightly in his fist.
Blood dripped from her pale cheek onto his as her lips trembled. “He’s gone now. I’ve killed him. I got your wand back, Harry.”
Harry. That was his name, wasn’t it? Harry Potter. Harry James Potter. “My wand.” Memories inundated him: a holly wand, a hawthorn wand, an Unbreakable Vow, and the Elder Wand. But he had broken it; he had broken the Unbreakable Vow. “How?”
“You’re the master of death, Harry,” whispered Luna as blood continued to fall from her chin and splash his face.
Then he knew, as if he had always known, that he could not defeat the broken vow until he had all the Hallows in his physical possession. And Luna-sweet, beloved Luna-had retrieved the Elder Wand for him. “You…?”
Her laugh was high and slightly hysterical. “I couldn’t let you break your vow, Harry. You promised me, promised us,” she said as she placed his other hand over her still flat stomach. The simple action rooted Harry firmly in the present, Banishing the remnants of the white mist that sought to lock him inside King’s Cross Station forever.
For the first time, Harry glanced at his surroundings. The walls were stone, gray, and definitely part of Hogwarts. They were both lying on a massive bed with blue hangings. Perhaps they were in Ravenclaw Tower? He wasn’t entirely sure, but it didn’t matter all that much. Not since-“Voldemort’s dead?” he checked, just to be sure.
“Yes,” Luna said, eyes shining with vicious victory and hands scrabbling at his clothes. “I killed him myself.”
Harry saw his grin in a mirror across the room: macabre, slightly insane, and triumphant. Without a word, he Banished their clothes and rolled Luna beneath him. He pierced the heat of her with one sure thrust and devoured her mouth as the blood of their fallen enemy smeared across their skin.
The prophecy was fulfilled. He was still the Boy Who Lived.
The End
Author: kamerreon
Title: The Price of Victory
Pairings: Harry Potter/Luna Lovegood, past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Rating: NC-17
Warning: AU-DH, het: male/female, violence, angst, canon character death, pregnancy, and sexual intercourse: both vaginal and anal (Luna receives both).
Word Count: 7,230 words
Summary: Harry kissed her as if he were a dementor and could consume her soul. That way, at least, they would always be together.
Notes: A minor amount of dialogue is quoted directly from canon. I’d like to thank Dec for audiencing. I hope you like it, Thilia! :D
Harry Potter stood atop the Astronomy Tower, peering over the edge to where Dumbledore had fallen almost a year ago. Somehow, he had always known that the final battle would happen here at Hogwarts. This was where everything had started, where Lord Voldemort had been born in the mind of a teenager, and it was only fitting that the monster would die here as well.
Perching on the parapet, he leaned his head back against the cold stone and stared up at the star-filled night. Sirius shone brilliantly, overpowering the other stars by far. It brought a slight smile to his face; he wasn’t alone. Perhaps, just perhaps, it was a portent of good things to come.
“Is that it, Sirius?” he asked, head lolling to the side and lips curling up in a wide grin despite the dire circumstances. “Are we going to win?” The star twinkled more brightly than before.
“Of course we are, Harry. Don’t you know that the nargles wouldn’t let him win?”
He turned, the grin on his face widening further as he stared at Luna Lovegood. She had put on most of the weight she had lost while in the Malfoys’ dungeon. Her blonde hair was silver in the moonlight, as silver as her eyes. The robes she wore were pale blue and threadbare, but they fit her-somehow complimenting her natural beauty.
“Oh, the nargles said we’d win, did they?” he teased gently.
“Yes, and the wrackspurts agree with them,” said Luna as she walked across the floor.
“Voldemort dies tomorrow?”
Luna nodded once, her face solemn. Her eyes, usually distant and unfocused, were sharp and intent on his face. “Voldemort dies tomorrow.”
“That would be brilliant.” Harry sighed and glanced back up at the starry sky. The night was warm, as expected of May, without a cloud or breeze in sight. He had always pictured the final battle occurring in the middle of a lightning storm with thunder, lashing rain, hail, and tornadoes. Somehow, the lack of all these set him on edge.
It felt like a false peace… a peace that had not been won and, therefore, could not last.
“Harry, can I keep you company tonight?”
“Hmm? Sure,” he absently replied, eyes all for Sirius, still. Harry felt like he could reach out and touch it, grasp it in his hand. Were stars hot or cold? He hoped they were hot; Azkaban had been cold because of the dementors, and he didn’t want to think that Sirius was suffering even after his death.
A rustling sound drew his attention, and he craned his neck to see Luna’s robes fluttering to the ground. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes perused her body. She was slender, but fit. The time spent at Shell Cottage had done wonders for her. Her nipples were golden peaks against her ivory skin, glittering in the moonlight as if she had dusted them with something. As he watched, stunned, she curled her fingers in the waistband of her plain knickers and peeled them off her body, revealing a thatch of silvery curls.
“Lu”-he coughed and pressed his palm against his growing arousal-“Luna, what are you doing?” His voice couldn’t seem to decide if it wanted to drop three registers or squeak off the scale. “Not that I’m complaining… because you’re beautiful, and, er, naked, and… wow…” His eyes trailed over her calves, which were particularly muscular, and back up her slim thighs to the heat of her.
“Keeping you company,” said Luna as she pointed her wand at the stone floor beneath her robes. Harry missed the incantation (for obvious reasons), but he figured it must have been a softening charm or a cushioning charm when she settled on the floor as if it were the most luxurious of beds.
“Er-right.” She had asked if she could keep him company, but he just hadn’t expected this kind of company. His cock twitched, hardening rapidly as she splayed out and parted her legs. Before he could even attempt to form a coherent thought (not that he would have much luck under the circumstances), Luna’s hand delved between her legs and wriggled inside her. “Fuck!”
“Yes, that is the idea, Harry,” Luna panted as she pressed down against her fingers. Her chest heaved, sweat starting to glisten across her skin.
Unable to bear it, Harry tore open his trousers and shoved his hand inside, wrapping his fingers around his prick and stroking it desperately. He had gotten little relief in the past year, and almost no private time, and the neglect showed in how quickly he came-almost instantaneously. Blushing, he pulled his hand from his trousers and wiped it on them.
“Don’t waste it, Harry!” Luna cried, hand stilling between her thighs.
“What?” he asked, gaze centered on her frozen fingers.
“If you don’t want it, I do. Come here,” she ordered. Harry might as well have Apparated for the speed with which he appeared at Luna’s side. She used her unoccupied hand to grasp his wrist and bring his dripping hand to her mouth, then proceeded to lick his seed off of it.
“Fuck, Luna.” Harry groaned, riveted by the sight of her pale pink tongue lapping across his semen-covered hand.
“I told you,” she moaned around his fingers, “that’s the idea.” She released his now-clean hand and grasped his half-hard cock through his open trousers.
“Oh!” The repetitive statement finally registered in his head, and his prick went from half-hard to hard right away. So quickly, in fact, that he wondered if she had spelled all the blood in his body to travel straight to it.
“This works better if”-Luna whimpered and thrust hard against her hand-“if you’re naked, Harry.”
“Naked… right.” Harry gulped and hastily tore his clothes off, unheeding of where they might land; his shirt went flying off the edge of the tower and fluttered to the ground below. Oh well. He didn’t really need it anyway. His trousers tangled at his ankles, and it took him several moments to realize that they would come off more easily if he weren’t wearing his trainers. He removed the pouch from around his neck and shoved it in one of his shoes. Then, finally, he was naked.
His thick cock slapped against his stomach, dribbling pre-come all over his skin, and Luna’s fingers slipped through it. Her nails skipped along his skin teasingly, and then taunted his erection before repeating the pattern.
Sensations ripping through his body, Harry leaned down to satisfy his curiosity. Her nipples were, in fact, painted with something that tasted an awful lot like honey. He suckled on her right breast and nipple until it tasted of sweat and skin and then transferred his attention to her left.
“Multitask, Harry!”
What? His mind was hazy with lust and desire, rational thought having fled long ago. All he knew was heat, naked skin, and the feel of her hand pumping him mercilessly. “What?” he asked, surprised that his voice actually worked, words muffled by the plump flesh of her breast in his mouth.
“Suck and fuck.”
Suck and fuck? That sounded brilliant. “Yeah, okay.” He grasped her wrist, pulled her hand away from her crotch, and then pinned both her wrists above her head. She struggled for a moment, ceasing only when she was sure she couldn’t escape his hold. “That good?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Sniggering, Harry shook his head. Only Luna… only Luna. He shifted so that he was lying between her thighs, teeth still latched onto her breast, and then sank into her in one long thrust. It was tight, very tight, and hot, and wet, and oh fuckity fuck!
“Mmm, you fit nicely,” said Luna, smiling up at him with approval, her pupils so wide that her eyes resembled black holes more than anything else. “Proceed.”
So he did. He thrust and arched inside her, rolling his hips to reach as deeply as he could. Luna kept twisting beneath him, wrapping her legs around his waist, then hooking them over his shoulders, and then (honestly!) she folded them behind her head. That’s when Harry totally lost what little control remained and climaxed inside her, semen shooting out to bathe her clenching walls.
“God, Luna, that was…” Harry groaned and claimed her lips in a vicious kiss, almost biting at them. Nothing had ever felt that good before. As she had said, he fit perfectly inside her, and she felt brilliant around him, clamping down and massaging his prick with her muscles.
Luna huffed, sending a strand of blonde hair fluttering away from her rosy cheeks. “We’re not done yet.” She squeezed her muscles, and his cock (thank God, he was a teenager) began hardening inside her once again.
He blinked sweat from his eyes and lifted a hand to shove his soaked hair back and away from his face. “We’re not?” Fuck, this was the best kind of torture. His hips gave a stuttering thrust, but she unfolded her legs and used them to push him out of her. “Luna?”
“Not like that, silly. That won’t help the baby.”
Harry froze, as if he had been Petrified, and stared down into her bottomless eyes. “What?” he croaked. “What baby?”
“Ours, of course.” Luna rolled her eyes and kissed his cheek gently. “What do you think sex under the full moon makes, Harry?”
“Er-um-a baby?” he asked, still in shock. She was pregnant? He had just gotten Luna pregnant? He was going to be a father? “I’m going to be a father,” he mumbled as joy cascaded through him. They would be a family-together-him, Luna, and their child. He leaned down and smothered her flat stomach in kisses. “You’re sure?”
“Yes, Harry, I’m sure. Everyone knows that.” The words were gentle, not condescending, and he let them wash over him and absorb in his mind. “I’ve always loved you, see, and even though you love Ginny, I want a part of you for after the war.”
The words felt like a Bludgeoning Hex to his throat, collapsing his esophagus and disallowing him the ability to breathe. “N-no!” He tightened his grip on her wrists, hard enough to bruise, but she didn’t complain. “No Ginny. That’s been over for-this is my child, Luna, and you’re mine now, and we’ll be a family together.”
The dazed sheen to her eyes was all shock this time, not fantasy or the miracles of her imagination; he could tell the difference. Her head rolled to the left, and her lips parted on a gasp, as if he had done something completely unexpected (or as if a Crumpled-Horned Snorkack was peering over his shoulder).
“You mean that,” she whispered, straight white teeth sinking into her lower lip. “You really mean that, don’t you, Harry?”
“Yes,” he growled, sinking his prick back into her wet folds to stake his claim all over again. “Everything that you are is now mine.” He had wanted a family his entire life, and he knew he would be a good father-completely unlike his Uncle Vernon-and Luna would be a perfect mother: loving, sweet, dedicated to family and him. Maybe this opportunity, this promise of a life after he killed Voldemort, was why Sirius shone so brilliantly tonight.
“Will you swear to it?” asked Luna, voice quavering with love and hope.
Harry’s hips stilled and he kissed her lips gently, lingering there for several minutes as he explored the mother of his child. “Yes,” he breathed against her jaw. “I will.”
Luna fumbled in an attempt to escape his hold, but he didn’t release her. She relaxed beneath him, suddenly looking more secure and right. Harry felt like he had just passed his O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s with straight Outstandings. This, he decided, was how life was supposed to be. “We need our wands,” she said, “for the vow.”
“Right. Don’t move,” he ordered as he removed his hands from her wrists. She didn’t, lying still and compliant beneath him, his cock still inside her as he dug through the discarded clothes to find both their wands. Once he had them, he pressed them between her hands and entwined their fingers around both of them. He only wished he was in possession of his holly wand and not Malfoy’s hawthorn one; it would have to do.
“Do you swear to accept our child?”
“I do.”
“Do you swear to accept me?”
“I do.”
“Do you swear to live for us?”
Red eyes and scaly skin surfaced in his mind, followed by black cloaks, white masks, green flashes of light, and ragged screams. Tomorrow, the Death Eaters would come-there was no doubt about that. Yet Luna had promised earlier that they would win; he believed her, could do nothing but believe in the gorgeous witch beneath him who was offering him everything that he had ever wanted.
“I do.” A third ribbon of light lashed out and sealed into their wrists. A child, a wife, a family-there could be no better reason to swear an Unbreakable Vow. He finally had a reason to live…. Grinning, Harry swooped down and engaged her tongue in a fierce duel, tasting and learning his lover and future bride.
Luna tore her lips away, chest heaving as she gasped for air. “We don’t have much time, Harry.”
“For what?” he asked as he bit along her neck.
“To make the baby as strong as it can be,” she replied, eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks as she clenched around him.
“What do I have to do?” he asked. He would do anything to make sure that their child was safe and powerful.
“I’ve had your seed in my mouth and my vagina,” Luna said as she panted under him. “There’s only one place left.”
Harry blinked in shock, unsure if he had heard her properly. “You want me to…?”
“Fuck my arse, Harry? Yes,” she replied, while using her legs to push him from her vagina again. “In the next half-hour, please. The sooner, the better.”
Gulping, Harry relaxed his grip just enough for her to roll onto her stomach, then tightened it again. His eyes locked on her arse; it was beautifully rounded, pale, with nary a mark to mar the white skin. He would admit that he loved girls’ bums, found his eyes drawn to them even more than to breasts-despite his dorm-mates’ assurance that breasts were heavenly-and that he had fancied fucking one a time or two. However, he hadn’t thought a girl would ever let him, and he would never have been crass enough to ask.
“Right. Don’t move,” he said before letting go of her wrists and smoothing his hands down her back. He palmed her cheeks in his hands, massaging them and spreading them to stare at the small, pink hole. It was tinier than her vagina, and he imagined it would be tighter as well. The thought sent what little remained of his intelligence elsewhere.
Harry grabbed the hawthorn wand and pressed the tip against her hole. He mumbled the lubrication charm he had become so familiar with in second year when he got his first morning erection. The liquid coated her insides and dribbled out, traveling down her crack to mix with his seed in her vagina. Ravenous hunger swept through him, and it took the rest of his concentration to remember a loosening and stretching charm.
Fingers bruised her pale skin as he grasped her hips and pulled her to her hands and knees. “Stay like this,” he commanded before grasping his cock in one hand and parting her cheeks with the other. Harry nudged against her hole determinedly until it gave way and let him inside. “So fucking tight,” he hissed. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he barely kept himself from slamming balls deep inside her.
He bent forward, pressing his chest to her back, and then tangled his fingers with hers, pushing them into the softened ground. Blanketing her body felt right, as if he had been made for this-or so his deepest desires purred to him. Deeper. Deeper. Deeper. More. In. Harry pressed his forehead between her sweaty shoulder blades, worrying the skin there with his teeth once his balls brushed her backside. He was finally fully seated.
Being inside a girl’s bum, he decided, was much better than he had imagined it would be.
“All right?” he bit out.
“You fill me so perfectly here, too.” She trembled beneath him, pushing back the slightest bit, and that was all the permission he needed to continue. Harry’s cock plunged inside her repeatedly, pleasure avalanching through him. It wasn’t all that different from being inside her vagina, though the dampness was artificial. It was still tight and hot and Luna.
He skimmed one hand down her body, stopping to pinch her nipples. She cried her delight, bringing a smug smirk to his face. She was so responsive. Fuck! As his orgasm neared, his hand traveled lower, fingers slipping between her wet folds and deep into her body. He moved them in time with his hips, feeling more possessive than he could ever remember feeling in his entire life. Then he fingered her clit and she came for him, his name on her lips, spilling from her soft tongue-just where it belonged.
His hands clutched her hips desperately and he pounded into her, driving through the quivers of pleasure, but not hard enough to harm her. When the pressure got unbearable, he threw his head back and roared, “Luna!” His cock twitched inside her, flooding her bum with his seed, before reluctantly withdrawing.
Harry collapsed beside her and pulled her back against his chest, wrapping both his arms and legs around her protectively. He gave her wand to her, and then grabbed Malfoy’s. He wasn’t ready to move yet, but he wouldn’t leave them unprotected. His free hand caressed down her body, the heel of his palm resting against Luna’s lower stomach, even as his fingers cupped her crotch.
“You’re all mine,” he said, lips kissing her sweaty hair where it draped across his chest like a flag of surrender. She had surrendered-to him.
Luna sighed happily and rubbed her cheek against the sparse hair on his chest. “Always have been,” she mumbled, mouth stretched in a wide yawn, “even when you were Ginny’s.”
Sparing only a passing thought for his previous girlfriend (who had offered him neither a child nor a decisive reason to commit to an Unbreakable Vow), Harry licked the large bruise on Luna’s shoulder. It bore his teeth marks, but the sight didn’t embarrass him. The primitive well of magic inside him rippled with delight each time he saw it.
“That means I’m yours,” Luna said dreamily. “It’s how wizards marked their mates centuries ago.”
“Good, then no one else will touch you.” The thought of anyone else’s hands on her: Malfoy, Lestrange, hell, even Ron’s, made hatred swell inside him; the tip of the hawthorn wand glowed sickly-green, and he almost dropped it in surprise.
“No one else will touch me,” she affirmed as she laid her head on his chest. Long after she had fallen asleep, Harry’s hand was still in the same position, covering their child and her entrance-both his.
When the sun rose over the horizon hours later, Harry was still awake and guarding his family. Where sleep should have pulled at him, dragging him down into Morpheus’s embrace, it didn’t. He felt as if he had just swallowed a gallon of Pepperup Potion. Adrenaline surged through his veins, keeping his eyelids from drooping behind his glasses. It would all end today.
Wanting nothing more than to slide back into Luna’s heat, Harry forced himself to abstain. He still hadn’t found Ravenclaw’s Diadem, and the Death Eaters wouldn’t leave Hogwarts alone for long; he expected an assault within a few hours. There was no time to waste… not even for love.
Harry’s lips smothered Luna’s face with tiny kisses until her eyes opened; they looked as beautiful in the sunlight as they had last night. Her hair was no longer silver, but a vibrant blonde, tangled and knotted from their physical exertions. Her lips were puffy, slightly raw, and bruises littered her flesh. Every bit of her body spoke of Harry’s presence.
“Harry?” she mumbled as she nuzzled his chest.
“It’s time to get up,” he whispered, breath tickling her ear as he nibbled her earlobe. “There’s still work to do.”
“Right.” Luna yawned, tongue curling out of her mouth like a cat as she stretched. Her bum rubbed against him, and he suffocated the need to make love to her once again. There would be time for that later, once he had successfully vanquished Voldemort.
They untangled themselves, casting cleaning and grooming charms at each other along the way, and then donned what remained of their clothes from the night before. The robes they had used as a bed were torn in places, but her knickers were fine, as were his trousers. He Transfigured her knickers into robes he could wear. They yanked on everything else and then stared at the rising sun.
“This is it….” It felt surreal, the knowledge that the war was almost over. This whole situation felt like the best kind of dream, which scared him. Fate loved playing with his life, and he worried about what it had in store for him next.
“Remember your vow,” said Luna, eyes firmly fixed on his as her small hand clutched his. “You’ll live for us.”
“I will,” he promised. He would live for his child and Luna-his wife in all but name.
“Be safe,” she whispered, rising on her tiptoes to seal her lips against his.
He circled her neck with his hand, fingers stroking the bite mark that barely peeked out of the collar of her robes. “You too.” He opened the door to the tower and led them down the many stairs, pausing only when they reached the bottom.
“Go, Harry. It’s your destiny.”
Harry drew her into one last, passionate kiss and then sprinted through the hallways. He knew that she would make her way safely back to the Room of Requirement, and that’s all that mattered. The Death Eaters weren’t here yet; it was safe for a while longer.
“Harry, where’ve you been?” Ron asked as he skidded around a corner on the third floor.
“Not now, Ron,” he said as they headed to find the Grey Lady. She had to know where the diadem was-she had to. It was their last chance to find it. Voldemort wasn’t going to wait forever.
“Where were you?” Hermione asked, echoing Ron as they raced through the hallways. “You’ve been missing for hours. We were all worried!”
“Not now, Hermione,” he repeated. He couldn’t think about Luna now, because he knew if he did he wouldn’t want to leave her side. He couldn’t think like that; his place was firmly in the middle of this battle, the general at the head of the lines.
“You were gone all night!” Ron gasped as they clambered up a staircase, despite the fact it was moving. “Did you sneak off to shag some bird?” Ron wiggled his eyebrows.
Harry abruptly halted, grabbed Ron, and then slammed him against the wall of the floor they had just reached. “She is not ‘some bird’!” he snarled.
Ron gulped. “Right… sorry!”
“Honestly, Harry, he didn’t mean anything by it!” Hermione admonished, eyes wide as she stared at his hands fisted in Ron’s shirt.
Harry closed his eyes and resisted the urge to bang his head against the stone wall. “I know. I know. Just-leave it be, all right?”
“Yeah, all right,” Ron said, apologetic confusion on his face. “Um… just-it wasn’t Gin, was it?”
“Ron”-Hermione smacked his arm-“she’s been searching for Harry with us, remember?”
“Oh, right! Never mind, then. Let’s go talk to the Grey Lady, yeah?”
“Yes, let’s.” Harry stepped back and began running again. Voldemort wasn’t patient in the least, and Harry imagined he would be even more impatient on a day like today. The Ministry had fallen, wizards and witches had either fled the country or were cowering in their homes, and Hogwarts was all that stood against him-the last line of resistance.
Once they finally found her, it didn’t take long to get the truth from her. Ravenclaw’s Diadem was at Hogwarts in the Room of Hidden Things. In fact, Harry remembered seeing it when he had hidden the Half-Blood Prince’s book in there.
The castle shook around them, the siege having begun, and they sped past Tonks, Ginny, and others as they headed for the Room of Requirement. Harry paced outside the blank wall thinking, I need the place where everything is hidden. He yanked open the door when it materialized, awed once again at how massive the room was; its ceiling was as high as a cathedral’s.
“Accio Diadem!” Hermione shouted. Nothing happened.
“Let’s split up,” Harry said desperately. The next few minutes were spent wandering down aisles and sorting through junk. Many things had been hidden here over the years, and piles of forgotten rubbish blocked some aisles. He had seen it before; he knew he had! It was somewhere around… there!
Just as he was reaching for the discolored tiara, the last voice he ever wanted to hear again sounded behind him. “Hold it, Potter.” He turned to see Draco Malfoy and his two cronies: Crabbe and Goyle. “That’s my wand you’re holding.”
“Not anymore.” Frustration surged through him. He hadn’t made it this far to be stopped by the likes of Malfoy. “Winners, keepers, Malfoy. Who’s lent you theirs?” When Malfoy answered, Harry wondered if his mother would have let him use her wand in the same situation. He was sure she would have; she had loved him enough to die for him, after all.
“Harry? Are you talking to someone?” Ron asked, voice echoing through the room. That was just the distraction Harry needed. Crabbe spun and cast a spell at the mountain of junk between them and Ron.
“Finite!” Harry yelled, breathing a sigh of relief as it stabilized. Harry ignored the fighting Slytherins and dove for the diadem. The Cruciatus Curse Crabbe threw at him missed, thankfully, but it hit the stone bust the diadem was resting on, sending it through the air to land in a pile of junk.
The next few minutes were something of a blur, though Harry remembered ordering Hermione to look for the diadem as he and Ron dueled the Slytherins. Killing Curses bypassed him and Ron, and he was never more grateful for how incompetent Malfoy’s friends were. Malfoy seemed particularly upset with them, his voice growing more shrill with each lethal curse they cast.
He wasn’t sure what spell Crabbe used to create the magical flames that looked like chimera, but he had no intention of sticking around long enough to find out. He tossed brooms to Ron and Hermione, and then snagged one for himself and shot into the air. For just a moment, as he peered down through the flames at Goyle and Malfoy, he wanted to leave them there. Death by fire seemed fitting, but he couldn’t do it.
After Ron and Hermione hefted Goyle and got him out of there, Harry grabbed Malfoy, ignoring the blond’s shrill shrieks to get out of the room just long enough to swoop down and pull the diadem out of the heap of rubbish. Mere moments after they escaped the Room of Hidden Things and the door closed behind them, the diadem screamed and crumpled to ash.
Hermione mumbled something about “Fiendfyre” while staring at the remnants of the Horcrux, but Harry didn’t pay her much attention. Victory was humming beneath his skin, prickling it with hope. Nagini was the only one left, and then Voldemort would be mortal.
The vision showed him the way: The Shrieking Shack.
Neither Death Eaters nor Acromantula could keep him away. Nagini was inside, and that overrode every other concern; there was no room for thoughts of his unborn child or Luna, not ones that he could focus on anyway. He winced, forcing them away as soon as they surfaced. He couldn’t be distracted… not now. They were so close to finishing all of this.
Shaking, Harry crawled the rest of the way through the tunnel, removing his Invisibility Cloak to stare down at Severus Snape. Snape’s hand grabbed the front of his robes and pulled him close. “Take… it….”
As Voldemort’s voice rang through the air, amplified by magic, offering patronizing words about “fighting valiantly,” Hermione gathered the silver strands of memories from the floor. They hurried back to the castle, the threat of “one hour” echoing in Harry’s head.
The Great Hall was full of dead bodies: Fred, Remus, Tonks… and he fled from it, clutching the flask of memories in his hands, deserting Ron and Hermione to the carnage. His task wasn’t over, not yet. It didn’t take long to reach Dumbledore’s office and get inside, nor to heft the massive Pensieve onto Dumbledore’s desk. Just for a while, he needed to escape his own head.
Harry plunged into the memories.
When he surfaced-hours? minutes? days?-later, numbness swept through him. So this was it, was it? The end of the line. He had to die; there was no other option, not if Voldemort were really to die today. He stumbled to his feet, wrapped himself in the Invisibility Cloak, and then lurched through the hallways.
Today he would sacrifice his life to save that of his wife and unborn child-just as his father had sacrificed himself almost two decades ago for him and his mother. Fate, it seemed, had a twisted sense of amusement-ensuring that history would repeat itself again.
He would never know if Luna had borne him a son or daughter; he wouldn’t get to name or hold his child; he would never know what his baby looked like; he would never get to marry Luna and confess his love in front of their surviving friends and family. There was so much that he had never considered before today. He had never allowed himself to think of dying, losing, and now that single piece of knowledge consumed him.
His death was inevitable and here. Now.
It took entirely too much effort to stop himself from looking for his friends, because he wanted to see them just once more before he walked to his death. It was better this way, of course. One look would never be enough. How could it be?
Harry paused beside Neville, who was bending over a body, and lowered his cloak. “Neville?”
“Blimey, Harry, you nearly gave me heart failure!”
Wincing, Harry shook the thought away. Neville had survived here at Hogwarts all year long, holding out against the Carrows and protecting the other students in the D.A. He could do it; he could kill Nagini. “You know Voldemort’s snake, Neville?”
Blond eyebrows shot upward, creasing a bruised forehead. “What about it.”
“It’s got to be killed. Ron and Hermione know that, but just in case they-” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.
“Kill the snake?”
“Kill the snake!” he confirmed.
Once Neville agreed to his request, as Harry had known he would, he yanked the Invisibility Cloak back over himself and headed into the entrance hall. Voldemort had said “one hour.” Harry reckoned that he had about thirty or so minutes left.
He felt a hand close around his arm. It was small, pale, the skin smooth and slightly bruised from where he had clasped it tightly hours before. “Luna.” She must have seen him talking to Neville and followed him, despite the cloak.
“You’re going to him in the forest.” It wasn’t a question. She knew him well.
“Yes.”
Luna inhaled deeply, chest shuddering. “You have half an hour left.” Thus saying, she tugged him into a small side-room, where he had once stood as a first-year waiting to be Sorted, and Locked and Silenced the room around them. Before he could say anything, she grabbed her robes and flipped them up, revealing smooth thighs and her unclothed crotch. “Make me yours, again.”
A split-second later his trousers were down at his ankles, Luna was against the wall, her legs enfolding his waist, and his cock was as deep in her as he could get it. Harry buried his face in her neck, breathing in her scent: jasmine and something indefinable. He rocked into her over and over, relishing each moan of delight that escaped her throat.
He knew he should tell her what he had found out in the Pensieve, but he couldn’t voice the words. He didn’t want their last time-fuck, their last time-to be ruined by the inevitable. So he sank his teeth into her neck and pounded her into the wall, the sound of flesh slapping into flesh resounding in the room. With a shudder, Harry came, flooding her passage with his come as she clamped down on him and moaned his name. “Harry. Harry. Harry.”
Harry withdrew his cock from her heat and kissed her as if he were a dementor and could consume her soul. That way, at least, they would always be together.
“Remember your vow,” said Luna as she slid down the wall to land on her feet, robes sinking to cover her semen-splattered thighs.
He bit his tongue to keep the tears from showing. “I love you.”
“And I love you, Harry Potter.”
Harry fastened his trousers with trembling fingers and then turned and walked away without looking back. He couldn’t have more than twenty minutes left, and he was already fighting the urge to grab Luna and Disapparate to a foreign country-somewhere where they could be anyone other than Harry Potter and his almost-wife.
His hands fisted as he left the castle and wandered into the Forbidden Forest. Just as his father hadn’t been able to teach and protect him, he wouldn’t be able to provide for his child. Voldemort was the worst kind of disease, a plague that savaged love and families… and Harry’s death was the only vaccine. That’s the only reason he could keep placing one foot in front of the other.
The Snitch in the pouch around his neck opened when he said, “I am about to die,” and gifted him with the Resurrection Stone. Even when his parents, Lupin, and Sirius joined him, walking through the dementor-ridden forest, he felt no urge to use it. The past was just that, and it wouldn’t change anything. The stone had, in fact, been Dumbledore’s downfall.
Following the bumbling Death Eaters was a simple matter, and then he was there: a clearing filled with Death Eaters that had a fire in the middle of it. Voldemort stood, as heartless and hideous as he had ever been. Shoring up his courage, reminding himself that this would guarantee Luna and his child survived, even though he wouldn’t, Harry whisked off the Invisibility Cloak.
“Harry Potter,” Voldemort said softly. “The Boy Who Lived.” He stared at the lipless monster, absorbed in thoughts of a future that would never be, until he saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone.
When he opened his eyes, some immeasurable time later, he realized he was lying naked in mist. “So this is what it’s like to be dead?” he asked himself. Thumping and whimpering noises sounded nearby, and he wished for clothes; they appeared. What if this was a dream? What if this had all been a dream and he was still in the Room of Requirement the night before the final battle?
“No,” he admitted, “my imagination’s not that good.” He might have been able to invent some of it, but not Snape’s memories, not the Fiendfyre, not making love to Luna in such detail, and not the thought of a child-his child.
The whimpering grew louder, and Harry wondered if a child were trapped in this massive white place with him. He walked toward the sound, but a voice stopped him. “You cannot help.” It was Dumbledore, Headmaster Dumbledore. Stunned, he followed the man away from the child.
“But you’re dead,” said Harry. Dumbledore didn’t disagree. “Then… am I dead too?” Was death a large white place that resembled King’s Cross?
“Ah, that is the question, isn’t it? On the whole, dear boy, I think not.”
“Not?” Harry repeated, just to be sure. Because if he wasn’t really dead… did that mean he could just wake up in the Forbidden Forest? Did it? Because if he could, if that were a possibility, that would mean he had kept his promise to Luna.
As Dumbledore wove a fantastical tale about his scar being the last Horcrux, about Voldemort having used his blood in the ritual and rebuilt his body from that, Harry allowed himself to hope. According to Dumbledore, Harry couldn’t die while Voldemort was still alive. Because Harry wasn’t dead, not really, only the Horcrux inside of him was.
Talk turned to the Deathly Hallows, to wands and ownership… and then Harry understood. Malfoy had Disarmed the Headmaster, and Harry had Disarmed Malfoy. Voldemort might possess the Elder Wand, but it wasn’t really his and wouldn’t work for him. “Or would it?” Harry whispered so softly that Dumbledore didn’t hear as he continued to ramble. Harry had stood there and let Voldemort hit him with the Killing Curse, after all.
“Can I go back?” he asked feverishly, hope and desire spearing through his veins like molten lava. Could he return to Luna and his unborn child? To a future and a chance for happiness?
“That is up to you.”
“I’ve got a choice?” he asked, just for clarification. Not that it would be much of a choice, because it wouldn’t. Just as his father would have wanted to return to him and his mother, he sought to do the same.
“Oh yes,” Dumbledore said.
Ignoring whatever else the venerable Headmaster might say, Harry leapt to his feet. He searched the station frantically, traipsing from one end to the other for a way out, but none appeared. There were no doors, no windows, no fireplaces to Floo from, and he couldn’t Disapparate.
Panic caught in his throat as two lines played through his head.
“Do you swear to live for us?”
“I do.”
Harry swallowed roughly, tears streaming unheeded down his cheeks as he stared at the lone train in the station. This wasn’t what he had expected, not at all. If Dumbledore hadn’t appeared, if Harry really had been dead… he could have lived (bad word choice, Harry, he thought snidely) with it. But Dumbledore had said… Dumbledore had said…
“What happens if you break it, then?” he asked no one, repeating his exact words about the Unbreakable Vow from over a year ago. Ron wasn’t present, but Harry hadn’t forgotten the answer. “You die.”
Stumbling, as if he had single-handedly downed a jug of firewhisky, eyesight blurry despite the sharpness it had had since he woke, Harry wandered over to the bench the now-silent, flayed child rested beneath and crashed onto it. Pain radiated throughout his body, but he paid it no mind.
In vowing to stay alive, he had condemned himself to death. How was that for irony?
Ages passed, and he never moved from the bench. He waited, and waited, and waited. He waited so long that Harry couldn’t even remember why he was waiting anymore. This white place, the train station, surely he had always been here? Surely he had always been alone; there had never been a man with a long beard or a small child, had there? No, there hadn’t.
“You’re all alone. And barmy, I expect.” He chuckled, voice rough and raspy from disuse. He didn’t feel the pain of it, though, because he couldn’t feel anything. Had he ever felt anything? What were feelings? He knew he should remember something about a thing called ‘love’ and how it was related to… the moon, maybe?
A white-hot poker seared through his right hand, driving bolts of lightning into his nerves one at a time. Tortured screams butchered their way out of his throat and past his lips. Something long and hard ruptured the skin on his hand, sending blood arcing through the air to stain the world of white innocence. It lengthened and wriggled from his flesh until it escaped his body, falling to land in his now-healed hand.
Something tickled at the back of his mind-some long forgotten story about wizards, wands, and items that controlled death. A tale of war, fighting, and hopelessness until the very end, when hope blazed just long enough to be cruelly snuffed out. A promise of love and a family… of-Harry squeezed his eyes shut against the sandpapery grit.
“Luna,” he whispered, tongue thick and clumsy in his mouth.
“Harry.”
His eyes shot open and met silver ones as disbelief coursed through him. She couldn’t be real…. “What?” His fingers spasmed, and he glanced down to see the Elder Wand-was it?-clutched tightly in his fist.
Blood dripped from her pale cheek onto his as her lips trembled. “He’s gone now. I’ve killed him. I got your wand back, Harry.”
Harry. That was his name, wasn’t it? Harry Potter. Harry James Potter. “My wand.” Memories inundated him: a holly wand, a hawthorn wand, an Unbreakable Vow, and the Elder Wand. But he had broken it; he had broken the Unbreakable Vow. “How?”
“You’re the master of death, Harry,” whispered Luna as blood continued to fall from her chin and splash his face.
Then he knew, as if he had always known, that he could not defeat the broken vow until he had all the Hallows in his physical possession. And Luna-sweet, beloved Luna-had retrieved the Elder Wand for him. “You…?”
Her laugh was high and slightly hysterical. “I couldn’t let you break your vow, Harry. You promised me, promised us,” she said as she placed his other hand over her still flat stomach. The simple action rooted Harry firmly in the present, Banishing the remnants of the white mist that sought to lock him inside King’s Cross Station forever.
For the first time, Harry glanced at his surroundings. The walls were stone, gray, and definitely part of Hogwarts. They were both lying on a massive bed with blue hangings. Perhaps they were in Ravenclaw Tower? He wasn’t entirely sure, but it didn’t matter all that much. Not since-“Voldemort’s dead?” he checked, just to be sure.
“Yes,” Luna said, eyes shining with vicious victory and hands scrabbling at his clothes. “I killed him myself.”
Harry saw his grin in a mirror across the room: macabre, slightly insane, and triumphant. Without a word, he Banished their clothes and rolled Luna beneath him. He pierced the heat of her with one sure thrust and devoured her mouth as the blood of their fallen enemy smeared across their skin.
The prophecy was fulfilled. He was still the Boy Who Lived.
The End