Title/Link: Insecurities
Team: Tutshill Tornadoes
Position: Chaser 3
A/N: Welcome to the seventh round of The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition! Having to sink ships makes me feel like an anti-cupid who shoots torpedoes instead of love arrows. Pew pew pew pew pew pew pew pew pew pew pew pew pew pew pew pew pew pew pew pew pew pew pew pew!
Guideline:
Choose a romantic pairing that you enjoy: HarryLuna
You must break up this pairing with Katie Bell.
Prompts:
8. Breathless
9. Counting Backwards
15. Clouds
Details: 1000 – 3000 WORDS. Rated T
(2356 words)
AU
You awake alone. You are accustoming to waking without her. Without your wife's petite frame curling into your side, keeping you warm from the cold crisp mornings. You slowly stroke her side of the bed hoping for her warmth to remain though she has gone. Your wife has been busy for the past month, something about a work project or another. You cannot remember what absorbs her time so much but you do know that you feel as if she neglects you. That emotion settles on your stomach while your mind clouds in despair. You recall the first few times of your solitary mornings, she leaves without a sound, without stirring leaving nothing but her impression in the mattress… You tense, you're remembering, remembering when you were the one to be coming home late, to be leaving early, absorbing your duty as an auror while she, a mere journalists… You remember coming home to a hot meal, a hot bath and relaxing massages and moments of intimacy. You know she is special, she is perfect for you, she understands you but you cannot help but feel there is something more going on, something more than work.
You remember the notes she leaves, well, used to, now you are lucky your wife is home before midnight. How often do you sit at the kitchen table waiting for her, falling asleep in the meal or on the couch hoping to show your support for how hard she works? You do not think it is fair that you cannot return the favour which leads you to believe something else must be going on.
Keeping those thoughts in mind, you stand, staring at the well-kept room, the photos of a smiling you, of a beaming and beautiful her. Her hair used to glow, it used to shine and shimmer like her eyes, her skin-though always pale-was healthy and you wonder what has happen to her, why her light is dimming, why she will not tell you what is going on. You sigh, you don't remember the last conversation with her that did not discuss her haunting the house. She always gets upset when you call her that, a ghost. She is haunting this house, you know it, you remind her all the time, she haunts this house with her dullness and your wife, Luna Lovegood is anything but dull. This Luna, your wife now, shuffles her way to and fro, gives you half smiles and barely touches you. You cannot remember the last time you made love.
Your friends assure you she's fine, even if she looks a little ill, that your relationship has the best communication. The love you two share is indestructible. You smirk sarcastically, of course you still believe it, you just wish Luna did. You wish Luna can remember the fact that you became an auror behind a desk just to balance the relationship and since she got the job at the Daily Prophet, you scarcely see her. You need a drink.
You grab your coat, shoving your wand in your pocket as you trek forward into the bright cloudless morning. You do not know where you're going; you do not particularly care, as long as it is away from your thoughts and
away from the house on your day off from paperwork. Away from memories of her.
Your feet stops, you look around seeing a rather secluded and dark looking pub. Why not? You ask yourself as you venture in, looking around in the gloom for the counter. A few drinks won't hurt, you think to yourself as you sit down and order three. The first one is for the distance Luna put up, you chug it down, wiping your mouth in satisfaction, it takes the edge off a little bit. You feel the cloudiness in your brain slowly fade away. Luna is a cloud, you decide, she is a mystery, floating around so that everyone can see and not even the skies, sun, stars, and moon can touch. You grunt before your next drink, firewhiskey burns a little you dully note and you close your eyes as you drink your second drink. This is for the lack of intimacy, your rejection and insecurity as she constantly claims she tires from work, that she is not in the mood. You slam the empty glass mug down on the counter, glaring at everything and nothing. This last drink is for her inability to talk to you, no matter how many times you pester her, how many times she insists she is fine. You drink this last drink keeping in mind that you're the bad husband. You're the problem.
"Is this seat taken?" You frown at the question, you're a little disoriented from drinking so fast. You turn to see a familiar woman but for the life of your not sober mind you cannot fathom from where. You shake your head and she smiles as she sits. You watch her order two more drinks and you gladly accept the one she slides over, finishing it before she takes her first sip, staring at you in wonder. "Is everything alright Harry?"
"Fine." You mutter at her worry. You don't care, all you want is an escape and as the cloudiness dissipates, you glance at your partner, a former teammate, an attendee at your wedding, Katie Bell. She is still as pretty as her years in high school, her gold band glistens in the light reminding you of her marriage to Oliver Wood, a good friend of yours. Her hair is dark, unlike your wife's and for a moment you appreciate the differences, not a single reminder of the woman of your plaguing thoughts. You smile. "How've you been?"
"Fine, Oliver's off playing for Puddlemere United, first string keeper and all." You notice the small smile, as if she is forcing it to become grander.
"He's away a lot isn't he?" You ask as you stare off into the gloomy bar. You're noticing a lot of former Hogwarts students and your realizing you must have stumbled into the pub owned by Lee Jordan in memorium of Fred. You smile fondly.
"Yeah… And you and Luna? I read the prophet, she's doing a fantastic job! Being the head of two papers is amazing Harry you should be proud of her!" She nudges you and you glance at the spot her arm touches, you can't help but note it's your first female contact in weeks.
"Why say it like that?" You ask peering into her expressive brown eyes. Katie blinks slowly, flushing and you order another drink, nursing it this time.
"You don't really look happy when I mention it." She notes. You salute her as she is captain obvious and take a hearty sip.
"The same goes for you when you mention Oliver." You share a look with the older girl and the loneliness floods the chemistry. You place a comforting hand on her soft warm ones, your heart thuds in your chest, your breath hitches as she smiles. She understands you without you having to explain to her and before you can register your brain, your thoughts and your sobriety you're leaning forward and she's meeting you half way in a lonesome, affectionate kiss.
You're struck breathless, the clouds are gone now in your thoughts and all you can think is for her to get closer. Manoeuvrings of desperation leads to you pulling her onto your lap, running your hands down her sides as she softly strokes your face. You share an intimate kiss, you are no longer alone as you lock lips with Katie, Katie who understands you fully. Understands the predicament you're in, understands the hole Luna leaves when she is away. You shudder. Luna. Counting backwards you think of your situation and if Katie is really the answer.
Ten, companionship, Luna is your other half, a half you only see one tenth of in a week. Katie's nibbling your bottom lop, you bite her tongue and she moans in pain and pleasure. Nine, you're an awful cook, all you can cook is bacon due to the Dursley's constant demand of the fatty food. When you do manage to follow a recipe (potions was never for you) it is too cold to enjoy. Eight, Katie can't get rid of the hole Luna made, only Luna can and you know that Katie can fill it for the time being. Seven, Katie knows quidditch. Six, gryffindors are easier to deal with. Five, Katie is a passionate kisser. You move to her neck, hopefully you can show her the skills of your tongue that Luna loves so much. Four, liquor makes you think better. Three, you miss dueling. Two, Katie's sounds of pleasure are intoxicating, you are thinking of taking her home with you, the house is always empty. One…
"Ha-harry," her breathless whispers halt your assault, she tugs on your hair lightly and you look up at her, cheeks pink, lips swelling, she glows to you. "We're in public."
"Come with me." You speak with honesty and assurance and the hesitation leaves her eyes as she smiles, giving you a chaste kiss before she stands. You're smiling, the first sincere smile in ages as you empty out osme money for the drinks and stand, swaying right into an unsuspecting Katie. She giggles in mirth and you chuckle at your state, enjoying how she effortlessly pulls you into her arms, managing to keep you up as you shuffle your way out the pub.
The walk is longer than usual, your brain blank as you feel the alcohol swirling in your stomach. You don't feel well. Katie has you though and you resign your body to her whim. She knows where you live, everyone does, you used to host dinner parties, the reception of your wedding took place in yours and Luna's quaint little home. She stops at the door and you merely push it open, having made the wards yourself, you know if anyone but you or Luna opens the always unlocked door they'll be blown into smithereens.
For some reason Katie stops in the doorway, and you lift up your head to look around, frozen as you see what you attempt to escape from, her outer cloak still on, her arms crossing and the stoic look on her ill face makes your stomach heave in protest.
"What are you doing here?" It slips out before you can rephrase it amicably. Luna doesn't seem to mind as she moves a stray lock of hair from her face.
"I came to surprise you." She speaks so softly, so delicately, so vulnerably, you get the sudden feeling that she knows what you and Katie have been up to. Your stomach lurches again.
"We were just at the pub. I was just helping him home." Katie reasons quickly, handing you over as you are incapable to stand. Luna does not buckle under your weight and your hands are quick to snake around her waist. It doesn't feel right to you anymore.
"Thanks." Luna's dismissive tone is all Katie needs to bolt and your blurry vision sees her wave a goodbye before leaving from the already open door. Feeling her magic leave the wards, you turn your misguiding affections onto Luna who is quick to push you off. You stumble back onto the awaiting couch, forgetting it has always been there. You look up at her as she stands over you, arms still folding in discomfort, the room sways and your stomach lurches.
"What's the surprise?"
"How long have you been sinking your ships in whiskey while I'm away?" She asks so carefully, the dreamy tone echoes in your brain. You don't want to answer. You have too.
"On days off. I don't usullay get this sloshed." You notice then how your words slur. You bite your lip.
"Harry, I know I have been rather busy lately and I don't always update you on what's going on but I decided to today. It's to prepare for something that I've been rather reluctant and nervous to tell you." This is your chance, this is what you've been waiting for, your wife is opening up to you and you're drunk, pay attention. You sit up wondering why your thoughts became so different, and you widen your droopy and loopy eyes. The see saw in your stomach makes you grasp it, squeezing through the fabric to ease the nerves.
"Why were you hesitating to tell me?"
"Because, it has something to do with my sickness and I don't know how you'd take it. Especially in this condition."
"Luna…" She looks down, fiddling with her fingers and you want to hold them but you can't, you have Katie kisses all over you, you're tainting the one thing you believe is perfect, is pure, is beautiful by the mere notion. You're stomach sways again. You cover your mouth holding down your bile. This is too much for you.
"Harry, I'm four months pregnant." You're recalling your thoughts, the thoughts of today, of yesterday, of your countdown, of your little epiphany. You realize Luna's lack of sex drive, lack of availability is due to her attempting to make a life for her to live while at home, with yourself. You remember Luna is a quiet person, not keen on expressing her feelings even with you… You know that she is loving person and that one… the final number in your countdown, one, you do not deserve Luna. The moment she is gone you are quick to drown yourself in sorrow, Luna did not do that when you were away. She is a wonderful woman. You don't deserve her. Katie clears your fog, her insertion in your pity party leads you to believe that you are not as pure as Luna, as your other half. She is snow and you are mud. With your final conclusion, you lean forward and release the contents of your stomach on her toes. You don't understand how she could ever be with someone like you and you don't want to stay around and find out.