A Long, Strange Trip

IX.

Cho Chang-Malfoy lay completely awake in bed, listening to her husband's deep, steady breathing. She was reliving the scene at the reception over and over again in her mind, and each time it seemed worse than before. She was close to tears; certainly her plans to visit Luna and Harry would be off, after what happened. Harry wouldn't want her anywhere near his house now. She hadn't received an owl from Luna cancelling the lunch, but she expected there would be one in the morning.

Damn you, Draco, she thought, with a sideways glance at her husband. He was sleeping on his back with his hands lying on his stomach. Cho had always thought he looked rather morbid when he slept, like he belonged in a coffin. He rarely moved in his sleep, either; it was unnerving. She imagined some wicked plans were being hatched in his head while he slept; plans to throw someone into ruin or humiliation. That person was most likely Harry Potter. Right now Cho hated Draco more than she ever had before. So she closed her eyes and imagined herself somewhere else...

When her eyes opened, she found herself in a small bedroom in an also- small but comfortable bed awash in colored pillows. A soft pastel down comforter was tucked comfortably around her. The walls were painted a soft dusty rose, and the windows had been opened to welcome the cool morning breeze. Sunlight streamed into the room, casting a pool of golden light on the hardwood floors.

Beside her someone exhaled, and the bed moved as a body shifted. She turned, and felt a great swelling in her chest when she saw the unmistakable shock of messy black hair, followed by the famous green eyes. He was shirtless, his well-defined shoulder and arm muscles visible over the blankets as he resettled himself.

"'Morning, love," he said in a husky voice, as a smile formed on his face.

"Hi," she replied in a soft whisper, so happy she could hardly breathe.

Then he leaned forward, his body hovering over hers. His bangs fell over his forehead, in a manner that made him even more unbearably sexy. Cho's throat constricted; she tried to swallow, but couldn't remember how. Harry was so close to her now, his hand cupping her cheek, his chest pressed against her...

"You know I love you," he said quietly, as he kissed her.

"I love you too..."

She woke suddenly, emitting a distinct gasp of disappointment when she realized it had been a dream.

"What is it?" Draco said, sounding annoyed that he'd been disturbed. He turned his head to look at her with a critical expression.

"Nothing," Cho replied shortly. She turned away from him, her jaw set tightly.

**

When Harry came downstairs the next morning, he found Luna at the table writing something. Her hair was tied in a loose knot at the base of her neck, and wisps of it fell over her forehead and cheeks giving her a casually dishevelled look. She was biting her lower lip in concentration.

"Well Phoebe's still out like a light," Harry remarked as she approached the table. "What're you writing? 'Morning," he added, and bent to kiss her.

"Good morning," Luna said pleasantly. She turned her head up to receive the kiss and playfully ran her fingers through her husband's hopelessly tousled hair. "I'm making a shopping list. Remember, we're having tea today with Cho."

At the mention of Cho's name, Harry bristled. "Luna, I assumed you would have called that off," he said.

"Why should I call it off? I'd really like to discuss the Quidditch camp with her, and it would be nice to chat for awhile, besides."

"I don't want her in the house, not after what happened yesterday."

"What happened at the reception was unfortunate, Harry, but it doesn't have anything to do with my relationship with Cho. She is a perfectly nice person. It was not her fault." Luna went back to her list, nonplussed. She didn't notice the stony expression on Harry's face as he stalked off to the kitchen, but she did hear the banging of the teapot against the counter and Harry muttering a curse word just before the water faucet went on. This gave her a moment's pause; maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all, if Harry was so upset. But no, she reassured herself. This has to be done.

Luna had her own misgivings about Draco Malfoy and his family, to be sure; she couldn't overlook the horrible things the Malfoys had done in years past, not only to Harry and his family, but to countless others - mostly those who disagreed with them, or got in their way. But the war was over now. The Malfoys had suffered losses themselves in the war, although they were more personal than financial. The death of Lucius Malfoy near the end of the war had hit Draco particularly hard, Luna remembered he'd gone into seclusion for weeks afterward and hadn't attended the memorial service. No one had ever determined what became of Narcissa Malfoy; she'd just disappeared not long after Lucius was killed, and most assumed she had either gone into hiding, or was also dead herself. Luna had her own theories, of course, theories she had yet to share with anyone, including her husband.

**

Ginny stood at the bathroom sink after her morning shower, looking at her reflection in the mirror. She was married. She was really, truly married. And the wedding had been spectacular, aside from the confrontation between Harry and Draco at the reception. Ginny felt a shiver down her back as she recalled the way Ron lunged at Draco - and the murderous look in Harry's eyes when Draco insulted Luna and Phoebe. Ginny had seen Harry angry plenty of times before, certainly; but never like that. Then Neville, stepping in and saving the day - she smiled. My hero.

Ginny ran a comb through her wet hair. She said her married name aloud to herself, just to hear the way it sounded. Mrs. Ginevra Molly Weasley-Longbottom. Of course Weasley-Longbottom was an extremely long name, and if - when, she corrected herself - they had children it would be awful to saddle them with that; unless, of course, they used Weasley as a middle name. She smiled at the thought, and set down the comb on the edge of the sink. They would have lots of kids. Well, maybe not lots, but certainly more than one. She couldn't wait to make the announcement to her family once it happened.

"Mum, dad - everyone....I'm pregnant!" The room would erupt with sounds of joy and delight; her mother would sweep down on her and hug her. It would be wonderful. And of course, Neville would be right beside her.

A warm sensation started in her stomach and she giggled. Perhaps it would be sooner than everyone expected. They would be back from Australia in two weeks' time - would that be long enough for the Muggle pregnancy test?

"Ginny, are you all right in there?" Neville's voice broke through Ginny's reverie. He rapped lightly on the door.

"Yes of course, I'm fine!" she called, and opened the door. Her husband stood there already dressed in his comfortable traveling clothes; his hair was neatly combed, and there was a look of quiet satisfaction in his eyes.

"You look magnificent," he said. His eyes never left hers.

"Last night was magnificent," Ginny replied, taking pleasure at the soft flush of red on Neville's cheeks that followed that statement.

"Yes," he said finally, and smiled. "Now, hurry and get dressed, okay?"

"What, we've got plenty of time before we have to go."

"Well, we sort of have to make a stop first."

"Where?"

Neville averted his eyes for a moment and bit his lower lip in a feeble attempt to suppress a smile. "Just an errand," he said.

"Neville, what is it?" Ginny prodded

"It's a surprise."

"What kind of surprise?"

"Well, if I tell you, it's not a surprise, is it then?" Neville kissed her cheek. "Come on, get dressed."

"Does it have to do with the honeymoon?" Ginny asked. She followed him into the bedroom, where Neville started fussing with the unmade bed. She could tell he was practically bursting to tell her, and this made her only more determined.

"Not telling," Neville replied. He began fluffing the pillows, and doing an appalling job at that. The pillow somehow slipped from between his hands and dropped onto the floor.

"Neville, please tell me!"

"Ginny, you know the more you keep on me about this the longer we'll be delayed, and that means all that much longer you have to wait to find out what it is." Neville was showing remarkable restraint, considering his track record for not keeping secrets.

She couldn't argue with that logic. "Oh all right, then. I'll get dressed," she said, and she hurried to the wardrobe to pick out her clothes, her mind racing with possibilities.

**

Well, they'd passed the Molly Weasley test unscathed. Now the whole family knew about the baby. Honestly Ron hadn't noticed just how much that weighed on his mind until he didn't have to worry about it anymore. He found it almost as difficult to keep things from his family as it was to keep things from Hermione. Fortunately, Mum had been so happy about the news that she'd completely forgotten to tell Ron off for keeping it secret.

He heard the slight squeak of the bedroom door and looked up. Hermione emerged in her pajamas, hair adorably rumpled with imprints of the pillowcase crease on her left cheek. "Ron, I've been thinking," she said, right off the bat. She had that look on her face - the sort of look that she got when she'd been overanalyzing. Frankly, even after all these years it was still a little bit unsettling for Ron to see that look. It usually meant something big was on the table.

"Your Mum and I were talking last night...."

Uh-oh. This was even worse than he thought. "Yeah..." he said hesitantly, as Hermione took a seat at the table next to him.

"You know we're going to need to make some big changes now..."

Oh okay. He could handle this. "Of course we do," he said. "That's why I took the job at the pub. So we can put more money aside for the baby."

Hermione smiled and her face flushed. That seemed to happen more frequently now, particularly when the word 'baby' was mentioned. Then she immediately snapped back into her "all business" mode. She folded her hands on the table and leaned forward slightly. "Ron, now don't explode, but I think we should move in with your parents."

"Erm...what?"

"Wait, listen to me."

"Move in with my parents? What the bloody hell for?"
Hermione looked scandalized. "Don't do that!"

"What?
"Don't use curse words."

Oh hell. She was turning into his mother. His strong-willed, independent Hermione had finally succumbed to the all-powerful Molly Weasley. If she dyed her hair red the transformation would be complete.

"Hermione, exactly what did you and Mum talk about last night after the reception? And why on earth would you want to move in with my parents?" Ron's world was askew; he felt as though he were rolling down a big hill, the way he used to when he was a little boy. Only then, he'd loved the way the momentum increased, and he had no power over it. He would just roll faster and faster, until he hit something. Usually it was either Fred or George. But this was different. The momentum was increasing but he wasn't hitting anything. It wasn't stopping, it was out of control. Where were Fred and George when he needed them?

"Because, like you said, we need to save money. We'd save a lot by not paying rent. I mean, of course I offered to pay some rent but your Mum refused, she said we're family and she wouldn't charge family rent to stay in her house."

Ron put up his hand. "Save your breath. We're not moving."

"Why shouldn't we? I think it's the perfect idea, and your Mum would be a great influence on the baby."

"How can she influence a baby that's not even born yet?"

"I've been reading up on this. Even in the womb, the baby can sense things. And the Burrow has always been full of love. Don't you want our child to experience that?"

"This is insane. We can't - we won't do it."

"Oh, we won't?" Hermione straightened, and crossed her arms across her chest. "So you're making decisions for us now?"

"Well, what about you? Sounds like you were all ready to start packing before you even mentioned the idea to me."

"But it's a perfectly sensible idea, Ron."

"It's sensible to you, maybe. But they're not your parents. There are other ways to save money. Case in point - my job at the pub. I'll be bringing in tips as well; I could pull down more in one weekend that I'd make in a week writing up Quidditch matches. And that will really help when you're not working."

There was a tense silence. Instantly Ron's brain went into overdrive as he tried to figure out what he'd said wrong.

"Not working?" Hermione echoed as the volume in her voice increased.

"Hermione, we've been over this already. You haven't been sacked."

Hermione got to her feet. "What makes you think I'm not going to work? Just because I'm pregnant doesn't mean I can't make a living and contribute to this household."

"But you can't work forever, right? I mean soon your stomach's going to be so big, you won't even fit behind the desk."

Instantly Ron wanted to take those words back when he saw the hurt and outraged expression on his wife's face. "Ronald Bilius Weasley, you are the most insensitive prat with whom I have ever had the misfortune to have a baby!" She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the bedroom door behind her so hard the walls shook.

**

"Are your eyes closed?"

"Yes, they're closed, now where are we?" Ginny said impatiently. All around her she heard birds chirping, and inhaled the scent of freshly mowed grass and... fresh paint?

After eating a quick breakfast, they'd Apparated from the hotel; Neville had made her close her eyes from the moment they left. It drove her absolutely batty, being left in the dark - she couldn't stand the suspense any more.

"All right, are you ready?"

"Yes!"

"Okay, then. Open your eyes!"

When Ginny opened her eyes, she found herself standing just outside the gate of a large, rambling house. It was two stories, painted a soft gold with white shutters. There was a good-sized porch and a vast front yard.

"Whose house is this?" she asked.

"It's ours!" Neville said triumphantly.

Ginny's stomach seemed to drop into her feet. "What?"

"I bought it for you - for us, as a wedding gift. Well, Gran helped of course. But isn't it fantastic?"

There was no doubt about it, the house was fantastic. A little bit bigger than she might have ordinarily chosen, perhaps, but nonetheless it was beautiful. Yet Ginny couldn't bring herself to be happy about it.

"You bought us a house?" She looked at Neville in bewilderment.

The smile on Neville's face faded somewhat when he saw Ginny's expression. "What's wrong, you don't like the house?"

"Of course I like the house, Neville. It's not that, it's....well, you bought it without me. This is a huge investment; it's something we should have done together. In fact I was looking forward to going house shopping and picking it out with you."

Neville looked positively crushed. "I suppose I...well, I wanted to do something amazing for you, Ginny. I thought it would make you happy."

"It was a wonderful thing to do Neville, but I wanted to do it together. We're a team now, right?"

"So you want me to give back the house, then."

Ginny grabbed his hands and held them tightly. "No," she said. "Just promise me that from now on we make all these decisions together, okay? Everything, no matter how small."

"Okay, I promise." Neville smiled.

"Now, how about we have a look inside?" Ginny said eagerly, and grabbed his hand. "I can't wait to see it."

**

At twelve-thirty, Cho set off from the Malfoy estate, armed with the chocolate marble cake she'd asked Cook to make especially for the occasion. Damien, who was not happy about being forced to go to "Nutty" Phoebe's house, walked sullenly a few steps behind her carrying his Quidditch things. Of course, once Cho had promised to buy him the latest Quidditch accessory no matter what the price his demeanor had lightened, but he still dragged his feet in what seemed to be a futile effort to put off the excursion.

"But you absolutely mustn't say anything to your father about this," she'd said, just before they left the house. She'd specifically waited until Draco had left for his business trip to even bring up the subject of the visit, so there was no chance Damien could run to his father with the news before it had a chance to happen.

"Mummy," Damien moaned for the upteenth time as they walked, "why do we have to go?"

"Because we were invited," Cho said. She paused and waited for her son to catch up. "Now come on, don't let your expensive things drag in the dirt."

"And why am I bringing my Quidditch things?"

Quite honestly, Cho was very curious herself as to why Luna asked her to bring Damien and his Quidditch supplies. "Well, I'm not sure. But didn't Phoebe say she wanted to start playing Quidditch? Maybe she wants to see..."

Damien stopped short. "She'd better not touch them!"

"Honestly, Damien. It won't hurt to share your things."

"NO!"

"That's enough. Now, come on, or we'll be late." Cho flashed him a threatening look.

"Can we go to the Quidditch store right after, then?"

Cho sighed. In this case it would be best to indulge him; she didn't want anything to interfere with her plans. "Yes, we'll go if the store is still open. If not we'll go first thing tomorrow."

They turned onto the lane that led to the Potter house, and Cho's steps quickened. Her fingers tightened around the cake plate, and she hurriedly coaxed Damien to catch up.

Finally, the house came into view. Even though she'd seen it before, now that she knew she was actually going inside, Cho felt a flutter of excitement.

The house wasn't large; even though it was two stories, it was still considerably smaller than most houses in the area. It was painted a very pale shade of green, with round windows - unusual, but still it was charming. It reminded Cho of the cruise ships on which she and Draco sailed. It was comfortably nestled in a grove of trees, shading it on three sides.

As she moved closer, Cho thought she saw a flash of movement in a lower window, just off to the right. Then a second later the door opened and Luna appeared, with Phoebe cowering just behind her.

"I'm so glad you could come," Luna said, as she stepped outside. Even though she wore no makeup and was dressed in a simple floral print dress with her hair up in a clip, she seemed to radiate an inner beauty that had nothing to do with her unique features. Cho was momentarily taken aback.

"Sorry if we're a bit early," Cho said. She glanced over her shoulder at Damien who hung back several feet.

"It's no problem at all. Come in! Oh, and you don't have to force him," Luna said in reference to Damien, who was not responding at all to his mother's request to follow her. "He can come inside when he's ready."

"I hope that's never!" Phoebe blurted from behind Luna's skirt.

"Phoebe, you don't mean that," Luna said, as she knelt to Phoebe's level and looked her in the eyes. In that instant the resemblance between mother and daughter was remarkable; it brought back Cho's longing for a daughter of her own.

"Yes I do mean it. I already said I didn't want him to come!" Phoebe's jaw set tightly.

"Well you know what? I'm coming inside anyway!" Damien retorted suddenly, and before Cho could say a word or put out her hand to hold him, he moved past her, Quidditch supplies and all, and went into the house. He knocked against Luna as he passed.

"Damien!" Cho admonished him, but he paid no attention.

"No, you can't come in!" Phoebe broke away from Luna and chased after him. Luna got to her feet.

"I'm so sorry about that," Cho said, stepping forward apologetically. But Luna merely smiled, and gestured for Cho to come inside. The sound of their children bickering somewhere inside the house seemed to have no effect on her whatsoever.

"Let's sit down," she said. "I've got tea brewing, and we can have some cake while we wait for Harry to come back."

"Oh, Harry's not here?" Cho said lightly, as she handed Luna the cake plate and shrugged off her light walking cloak while taking a quick look around the room.

It was decorated just about the way she would have expected; very modest and homey, with overstuffed chairs, vases of wildflowers and an eclectic mix of antique furniture. The walls were painted various shades ranging from off white to the palest yellow. The living room had been combined with the dining room, and on the table Cho noticed papers and books were scattered around haphazardly.

"No, Harry's not here at the moment, but he should be back soon. He needed to take a walk."

Luna didn't elaborate, but Cho suspected that Harry's need to take a walk had something to do with her visit. Luna went into the kitchen momentarily, and returned with a tray bearing two cups of steaming tea, along with cake plates and silverware.

But before long, the sound of a shrieking child shattered the calm.

"Get away from that! Don't touch it!" Phoebe yelled from a back room.

"Why would I want to touch it?" Damien scoffed. "It's a piece of junk! My father would throw it away!"

"My mummy made that!" There was some scuffling, followed by an ominous crash and the sound of something breaking, and spilling its contents all over the floor.

"OW, you're hurting me!"

"Well you broke the jewelry box!"

"Stop it, get your hands off! Ouch, you're pulling my hair!"

When Luna and Cho arrived in the rear sitting room, they found Phoebe with her fist clenched in Damien's shiny black hair. Remnants of what had been Luna's jewelry box - fragments of seashells, some beads and glitter - were scattered everywhere, along with assorted earrings, bracelets, rings and necklaces.

Damien managed to get a solid kick in against Phoebe's shin, but instead of buckling in pain, Phoebe merely yanked harder on his hair.

"Aiiii...OW!" Damien bellowed as a tuft of hair came away in Phoebe's fist.

Luna rushed forward and pried her daughter away from Damien, who was now kicking and flailing while being restrained by Cho.

"Damien, I want you to apologize for breaking that box," Cho said.

"I won't!" Damien said adamantly. He stopped kicking but fixed a murderous glare at Phoebe.

"It's all right," Luna said. She produced a wand tucked in the sash of her dress, and with an easy flick, the box repaired itself, its contents returned to their respective compartments, and it moved back atop the bookshelf from which it had fallen. "Now, how about we all go in the other room and have some cake."

As she followed Luna back into the living room with one hand firmly around Damien's wrist, Cho was beginning to feel like this visit hadn't been a good idea. Even though Luna seemed not to be bothered, clearly the children felt otherwise. And it would be difficult to carry on a conversation having to pry them apart every few minutes.

However, Luna managed to get Phoebe and Damien to sit still long enough to take a piece of cake and, even though they sat at opposite ends of the room and shot death-glares at each other, they were being remarkably quiet. Then Luna served tea and cake to Cho and herself, and they sat on the sofa by the window. From where she sat, Cho had a clear view of Harry and Luna's wedding photo, which brought a hollow feeling to her chest.

"Now, I suppose I should tell you why I asked you here," Luna said, after a short pause. "This cake is just delicious by the way. You see, the other day just after we met you on the road walking back from town, Harry and I were talking about the idea of starting a Quidditch camp for the children. Well, of course Harry would be in charge of it. That way every child who wanted to learn Quidditch would be able to - it's something Harry loves, as you know, and I'm sure he would be a fantastic instructor, don't you?"

"Oh yes," Cho agreed easily. This brought back images from the dream she'd had the night before, and she felt the heat rise into her cheeks.

"So I would like to invite Damien to participate in the camp, once it gets off the ground...so to speak."

"Really?" Cho couldn't disguise the surprised tone in her voice. Unbidden came thoughts of her escorting Damien to the camp, thereby giving her the excuse to mingle with Harry and Luna - well, mostly Harry....She'd figure out a way to deal with Draco.

"I'm not going," Damien announced. He got to his feet. "Not to some stupid camp run by her stupid father." He pointed unabashedly at Phoebe, who responded to the challenge by dropping her plate on the floor and lunging at Damien. Once again, Cho got to her feet and went to restrain her son.

**

"Come on Hermione, please open the door. I'm sorry!"

Ron had been knocking on the door, which Hermione had secured with a locking charm, for the last five minutes.

"You know if I could take it back, I would. I mean it, really. I was really only trying to help you."

"How does telling me my stomach is going to look like Buckingham Palace help me?" Hermione yelled from the other side of the door.

"Well, erm..."

"I'm perfectly capable of doing my job while pregnant, I'll have you know!"

"Sure, yes of course you are. I didn't mean it that way."

"Then what in blazes did you mean?"

"It's just - well, it would be awfully uncomfortable for you to sit behind a desk, that's all! And I'd think you'd want to take it easy."

"This baby is not going to interfere with my job, Ron."

"No, of course it won't. Can you come out now?"

There was a long pause. "I'll come out," Hermione said finally. "But you have to agree to something."

"What?" Ron said, reluctantly.

"We're going to live with your parents."

"Hermione, I already told you...."

"That's it, Weasley! Take it or leave it!"

"What, so you're going to spend the next nine months locked in our bedroom if I don't agree to move back home? That's crazy."

"But living with your parents is a perfectly logical solution. Think of the money we'll save. We could get a house in a year, Ron. One year! Who knows how long we'd have to wait otherwise. Two or three years, and with the real estate market so unpredictable it could be even longer."

"A year, huh..."

"Of course, the house might be a bit smaller than if we waited, and probably would need some fixing up, but wouldn't it be worth it in the end? Think about it - we'd have more than enough space for us and the baby. I might even be able to put in a library, and you could have your own room for all of your Chudley Cannons memorabilia."

Ron mulled over this for a moment. The idea did make some sense; as much as he was loathe admitting it. "Well..."

Before he knew it, Ron was ambushed by Hermione, who threw her arms around him and planted a kiss on his mouth. "I'll give notice to the landlord today," she said cheerfully. "And we can start packing right away."

Ron sighed and rolled his eyes. This was going to be one long year.