A Long, Strange Trip

A Long, Strange Trip

I.

Someone was watching him. He was sure of it.

Harry was lying on his stomach in bed. His eyes were closed, but he wasn't asleep. His right arm dangled off the edge of the bed, and his left arm was tucked under the pillow. The covers were wrapped around his waist. He didn't know how long he'd been awake - he'd never opened his eyes - but he definitely felt another presence in the room.

"Harry." Luna's voice, although quiet, startled him since she spoke directly in his ear.

Harry started, and turned over onto his back to gaze up at his wife. Luna sat on the edge of the bed, still in her dressing robe, with her hair falling loosely around her face.

"Good morning," Harry murmured, his voice still gravelly from sleep.

Luna smiled and leaned forward as if to kiss him. Harry raised his head slightly to meet her halfway, only to find that she'd stopped moving. "We're going to have a baby," she said.

"Huh?" Harry wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. He propped himself up on his right arm.

At the same time Harry moved upward, Luna continued her downward descent and they bumped noses. Luna put her hands on either side of Harry's face and kissed him.

"A baby."

Before Harry could process this piece of information, there came the sound of rapid footsteps up the hallway and Phoebe barreled into the room with her favorite stuffed owl toy tucked under one arm. She had clearly dressed herself - this was evident by the patchwork skirt, bright paisley blouse, and the rainbow socks on her feet.

"Daddy's up!" she cried. She crawled up and began to bounce on the mattress, shaking the bed.

"Hey, hey, come on now. Daddy's not quite up yet." Harry, still smiling, gave her a gentle tug to pull her down.

"Did Mummy tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"That we're getting a baby," Phoebe giggled.

"Yes, she did tell me." Harry looked at his wife, and felt something shift deep inside him. Luna's face had taken on a special glow.

"I told her I want to get a boy baby," Phoebe continued. "Daddy, do you think I'll be a good big sister?"

"You will make a brilliant big sister."

Phoebe beamed.

Harry took Luna's hand, and laced his fingers in hers. "So we're getting a baby, then." Luna smiled wordlessly.

"Can we get a boy?" Phoebe asked eagerly.

"I don't know, we'll have to see," Harry replied without taking his eyes from Luna.

"Can we get two?"

"I think one is enough," Harry said, smiling at his daughter

But at the same time, Luna whispered, "Maybe we can."

Morning dawned on Malfoy Manor much as it usually did. Six year-old Damien was up not long after sunrise and was ready for his morning Quidditch practice before Draco had even opened an eye to check the time.

"Can we go now?" Damien tugged at his father's arm. "Come on!"

"You know we don't start until eight o'clock. Did you look at the time?" Draco raised his head just enough off the pillow to look sternly at his son. But despite himself, he had to admire the boy's enthusiasm. He had the makings of a great Quidditch player. Some thought Draco was going a bit overboard by starting Damien's training so early, but it was never to early to mold him into the champion he was so clearly destined to be.

Thank Merlin Potter doesn't have a boy, he thought. That nutty daughter of his wouldn't even know how to steer a broom. Luna probably has her making jewelry out of the leftover chicken bones from last night's supper.

He pushed aside the green silk sheets and the silver down comforter and sat up on the edge of the mattress. Damien was jumping around madly in front of him, already dressed in the smaller version of his father's Slytherin uniform that Draco had had specially made for him. "Come on, Father!"

"Go downstairs and have Cook prepare your breakfast. Once I'm dressed we'll go. You know you don't play well on an empty stomach."

Damien scowled and scuffed his toe in the carpet. But one look at his father's firm expression told him that the decision was final. So he left the room, closing the door rather loudly behind him.

"Honestly," Draco shook his head. He glanced over his shoulder at the form of his wife, who slept on her side with her back to him. He touched the curve of her waist and ran his fingers up her side and over her shoulder. For a moment, it seemed that she flinched, but he paid no attention.

"Are you awake?" he asked, bending close to her ear. However, Cho didn't respond. He shrugged and reached for his dressing robe, then went to the closet.

The owl swooped in through the open kitchen window and landed on the table where Harry, Luna, and Phoebe were having breakfast. Luna calmly righted the sugar bowl before it tipped over, and Phoebe squealed with delight.

"Ooh, it's Piggy-wiggen." This was Phoebe's pronunciation of Pigwidgeon, Ron's owl.

"Yes, it is."

Luna meanwhile produced an owl treat, which she gave to the fidgety bird as Harry untied the parchment from its leg. Harry, it read in Ron's familiar scrawl, Need to see you as soon as possible. It's about Hermione. Can you come to the bakery at eight o'clock? I'm on my way there now. Thanks, Ron.

Harry furrowed his brow as he reread the note. "Uh-oh," he said, as he turned the parchment over and hurriedly jotted down his affirmative response. He tied the scroll to the owl's leg, and it took off again into the slowly deepening morning sunlight.

"How's Ron?" Luna asked, as Phoebe returned her attention to the cereal in front of her. Her stuffed owl toy, named Hedwig after Harry's now-retired snowy owl, was perched on the chair next to her. Phoebe called it Hedwig 2.

"Not sure. He's asked me to meet him." Harry got to his feet and checked the time. It was seven-forty.

"I may not be here when you get back. I think I'll take Phoebe out for a walk - it's such a beautiful day. Maybe we'll go into town."

"Okay, so I'll see you later, then." Harry paused long enough to give his wife and daughter a kiss each, then started back upstairs to dress.

Cho Chang-Malfoy waited until she was sure that Draco had left the master suite before making any indication that she was awake. Then she rose from the bed and put on her dressing robe, and went to the window to survey the vast expanse of green spread out below her that comprised the five acres of the Malfoy estate. Not too far in the distance was located the small replica of a Quidditch pitch that Draco had had constructed for their son's practice sessions. It was marked by two sets of three hoops at either end, along with flags emblazoned with the Malfoy crest encircling the entire field, fluttering in the morning breeze.

She was positively dreading the Weasley-Longbottom wedding tomorrow. It would be so much easier if Harry wasn't going to be there - obviously, life in general was much easier to bear when he wasn't within her field of vision or earshot. Then she could almost forget about him and throw herself into her role as mistress of the Malfoy Manor, and the doting (if not a bit distracted) mother to the Malfoy heir.

But obviously since Harry was Ron Weasley's best friend, and one of Neville's ushers, there was no question that he'd be at the ceremony. She emitted a low, deep sigh as she watched the progress of a bird swooping down across the field.

Yet here she was, married to Harry's worst enemy, while Harry was sharing his life with Luna Lovegood . . . how could he have? Then, she caught herself. What on earth was she doing? She straightened her back, tossed the long straight black hair over her shoulders, and proceeded to the closet to dress.

Ron was already waiting at a table at the window just inside Bettina's Bakery when Harry walked in at five minutes past eight. A look of tremendous relief washed over Ron's face as Harry took the seat opposite him.

Ron's face was flushed, his eyes wide. He was fidgeting constantly with the napkin and silverware on the table in front of him.

"What's going on?" Harry asked. "Where's Hermione?"

"You mean physically, or mentally?"

"What are you talking about?"

A waitress came to the table and Harry quickly ordered a cup of coffee and a muffin. Then he turned his attention back to his friend.

"Physically, she's at the house getting ready to take Ginny out for their shopping date."

"Okay, so...?"

Ron shook his head. "But...well, let's just say mentally she's like a completely different person. Can you believe she actually offered to let me sleep in this morning and brought me eggs, bacon, and tea and toast in bed?"

Harry's first impulse was to laugh. He was so relieved it wasn't something worse. But he caught himself when he saw that Ron's expression hadn't changed in the slightest. His friend looked genuinely confused and more than a little concerned.

"Today isn't the first time, either," Ron continued. "Over the last three days or so she's been, well . . . wacky."

"Wacky?"

"You don't believe me."

"I didn't say that, Ron. It just sounds like you're getting yourself wound up for nothing."

"You know how she's usually at me to help around the house, you know - take out the trash, do the dishes, that sort of thing, without using magic. Well, lately, she's been doing it all herself - with magic, mind you - and she hasn't complained about anything. Nothing. Not once. And she hums a lot while she's working. She never likes to have music playing when she's doing research or working on a case."

"Maybe she's just upbeat because she's looking forward to the wedding."

Ron looked unconvinced. "I don't know..."

The waitress returned and set a cup of coffee and a muffin in front of Harry. "You said she's really throwing herself into the task of being Ginny's matron-of-honor. She's probably just enjoying herself."

"No, that's not it."

"Maybe it's the new job, with the Muggle Relations office. She's been trying for that promotion for so long and she was under a lot of stress."

"No, she's had the job for weeks already and hadn't been any different than usual until now."

"Well, your first anniversary is coming up, isn't it?"

Ron straightened. His face took on a look of horror. "Blast! That's it - our anniversary. Bloody hell, I forgot!"

"You'd better not let Hermione know you almost forgot. She'll wring your neck."

"You're not kidding. So how're things?" Ron signaled for the waitress, and when she approached he ordered a pastry and a cup of coffee.

"Not bad actually. Luna's expecting."

"Good going, mate. Congratulations." From across the table Ron gave Harry an encouraging nudge in his upper arm.

Harry flushed despite himself. "Yeah, thanks."

"I must say that being a dad really suits you. You've mellowed."

Harry grinned. "So when can we expect to hear the pitter-patter of little Granger-Weasley feet?"

Some of the color drained from Ron's face. "Hey, give us a break, we've only been married a year," he said. He tried to play off Harry's remark casually, but there was a hint of anxiety in his voice.

"Calm down, I'm just teasing."

"I'm getting married tomorrow...," Ginny couldn't stop saying it over and over again. It had been almost a year and she'd counted the days, but now it was finally here. She bounced around with the enthusiasm and energy of a school girl, cleaning up the breakfast dishes and putting out food for her cat.

She liked to think of her three-room flat as being in a state of 'organized clutter'. It wasn't messy. Not really. Too clean and it would look like a museum, like the Malfoy Manor. Ginny shuddered at the idea. For a fleeting moment, she wondered what her own house would be like, the one Neville and she would purchase together, once they returned from their honeymoon in Australia.

Not too big, she thought, as she stopped in front of the mirror to run a brush through her hair. Maybe two levels, but no more. Lots of cushions, big overstuffed chairs and sofas. And a big lawn, of course, but not so big that it looked like the city park. Color. That was important - not too much brown, gold and rust. Spice it up, perhaps paint the walls bright yellow or blue.

What time was it? Nearly eight. Hermione would be coming around at nine to take her out shopping for the honeymoon. Hermione wasn't one for spending the day in boutiques and dress shops, but she was Ginny's matron-of-honor - it came with the job description, after all. And after the nightmare of Hermione's yearlong quest for the "Perfect Dress" for her wedding, Ginny figured it was payback time.

Ginny already had the dress - that had been the easy part because she wanted only the simplest style with no frills or fuss. The dress she'd found was made of linen with spaghetti straps and a knee-length skirt. It could be worn to a cocktail party or a summer gathering. She would wear it with white sling-back pumps and accessorize sparingly. Gran Longbottom had tried to coax her into a waist-cinching, lace-cuffed monstrosity with a five-foot train that made her look like Frankenstein's Bride. No thanks! Ginny shuddered. Gran had given them the down payment on their future home as a wedding gift, not to mention the use of her home for their wedding, and for that Ginny was grateful. But, in no way would Gran Longbottom influence what Ginny wore on the most important day of her life.

There was a rapid knocking at the door. "Ginny! Ginny, it's Hermione."

Ginny checked the clock again. It was ten past eight. They had agreed on nine o'clock hadn't they? She went to the door and opened it. "Hermione? I thought we -"

But Hermione brushed past her in a rush of energy. "Sorry, but I just couldn't wait to see you. I'm so looking forward to this shopping trip today. Have you had breakfast? I was thinking we could go somewhere first."

"Huh?"

"Breakfast. Have you had any yet? I haven't had flapjacks in the longest time, I'm completely in the mood for some today."

"Sure, I guess. Hermione, are you okay?"

Hermione turned from the window, where she had been gazing down at the street with a bright expression on her face. She seemed positively radiant. "Fine. Just fine," she chirped. "Shall we go?"

"You're sure you're okay? You seem so . . . so happy." Ginny couldn't think of another word.

"Yes, yes absolutely. Now come on, then. Get your purse, and we'll get something to eat. Then we'll hit the shops!"

There were so many babies. Babies in strollers, cradled in their mother's arms, or in carriers strapped to their mother's front that made them look like a strange, lumpy growth only with legs and arms dangling down. Babies propped up on laps at outdoor cafés drinking from bottles while their mothers chatted over coffee. It was just amazing - they were everywhere.

"Mummy, can we go now?"

"In a minute, little pixie." Luna stroked her daughter's hair. The house could do with some flowers, so she took out her string purse and counted out money for a bouquet.

"Mommy - "

"I know, we're going."

With the bouquet held gingerly in her arms like a baby, Luna followed Phoebe as she skipped down the sidewalk a few feet ahead, still wearing the patchwork skirt and paisley blouse.

But despite her heightened senses, Luna felt different. Not in a bad way, of course. But different nonetheless. She wondered if she should have mentioned the dream to Harry when she told him about the baby - the dream she'd been having for the past two weeks, the one about the dancing twins.

They proceeded a short way down the street, when Phoebe let out a delighted squeal. "It's aunt Hermione and aunt Ginny!" She pronounced Hermione 'her-my-knee.'

Luna came out of her reverie and followed Phoebe's outstretched hand with her eyes. Seated at an outdoor table a half-block away were Hermione and Ginny. Hermione was chatting animatedly, eyes glittering and cheeks flushed, while Ginny sat quietly, nodding and looking a bit confused. Plates of food sat on the table before them, along with glasses of tea and juice.

"So it is," Luna said with a smile. It seemed she wasn't the only one with good news to share today. She took Phoebe's hand and they proceeded in the direction of the café.

Ginny looked almost relieved to see them when they arrived at the table, and, without hesitation, offered them the two extra chairs. "Here, sit. Please join us."

"Yes, would you like some breakfast?" Hermione said graciously. She then bent forward to put herself at eye level with Phoebe. "And what would you like, Phoebe? Do you like flapjacks?"

Phoebe's face lit up and she looked at Luna. "Can I?"

Luna nodded, studying Hermione as she set the bouquet of flowers in her lap. "But just a little, since you've already had cereal this morning."

"So, are you looking forward to the wedding tomorrow?" Hermione asked, breaking only to signal a waitress. She was looking directly at Luna. But without waiting for a response, Hermione turned to Ginny. "We're going shopping for clothes for Ginny to wear in Australia."

The waitress came by and Hermione placed an order for another plate of flapjacks, and at Luna's request, a fruit salad and water.

"How are you?" Hermione asked, and it took a moment for Luna to comprehend that the question was directed at her.

Luna put her hands against her stomach. "Oh, I'm fine."

"We're getting a baby!" Phoebe announced proudly.

"Really? Congratulations!" Ginny beamed.

"Yes, that's wonderful news." Hermione's eyes took on a dreamy look reminiscent of Luna's.

"And Mummy said we might be able to get a boy."

"This should be interesting, both of us expecting at the same time," Luna said, looking at Hermione.

Ginny's head shot up. "What?"

"I could see it from the flower stand. She has that look," Luna said, as if this would explain everything.

"Hermione, why didn't you tell me you're pregnant?!"

"Hmm, what? Oh no, I'm not -"

"Yes, you are. It's quite obvious, really," Luna said calmly. The waitress returned with the fruit salad and a plate of flapjacks, which she set in front of Phoebe. Luna turned to her daughter's plate and began to cut the flapjacks into quarters, completely unaware of the stunned silence that had fallen over the table. She poured a small cup of maple syrup and sprinkled powdered sugar, then tucked a napkin into Phoebe's collar.