Chapter Seven

Harry was confused, and hurt. Of course he was confused and hurt. Draco was going to be a father? Hermione was having a baby? How had it happened? It just didn't add up to him. Obviously, he knew how it happened, he wasn't a complete idiot, but it was perplexing nonetheless. A baby? Really? And Draco was the father? His mind kept spinning around the same idea over and over, trying to make sense of it and failing miserably.

What had he done wrong? He'd been the best mate he could be, as a friend and a lover. He'd taken the time to listen to every asinine thing Draco had to say, he'd been a supportive pillar when Draco needed to lean on him. And if Draco's reactions had been anything to go by, he was pretty sure that he was good in the sack. So, what was it? Had Draco just had some deep-seeded need to lay down with a woman? Just the thought sent shivers of disgust down his spine.

Hermione was pretty, yes, but not what he envisioned Draco's taste to be. Draco would go for someone more polished, sleek, who walked with grace and ease and the knowledge that she could have any man she desired. Hermione was fairly close to the exact opposite. But then, he reasoned, if Draco's tastes were so high-minded and particular, why had he gone for Harry?

The clear answer was that he loved Harry for who he was, not what he wanted Harry to be. But if that was the case, why had he slept with Hermione? Why had he knocked her up?

It was so confusing and hurtful.

Harry sighed and wrapped his hand around the cool glass that held his liquor. He wasn't sure what it was, he'd just asked for the "house drink" and the bartender had dropped a honey-colored substance in front of him. So far it was agreeing with him. Usually he'd be at Hermione's, sulking on the couch and letting the wheels in his head spin out of control, but he knew that Draco was up there, so here he was. The pub was across the street from her building, frequented by Wizards and Muggles alike. A crossroads in London, it wasn't quite the Wizard hang-out that was The Leaky Cauldron, but it had a charm all its own. One could be seen here, and one could also be invisible - lineage be damned.

"What's the matter, Harry?" Luna asked. She slid onto a stool next to him and crossed her legs at the ankles, letting them idly swing between the stool and the bar.

"What makes you think there's anything wrong?" he replied defensively, surprised at just how hoarse his voice really was. Even to his own ears he sounded like a terrible liar.

"Oh, a woman just knows when there's something wrong with a man," she said airily. Her voice had a breathless quality - it was something that Harry had never been able to quite put his finger on. She didn't sound like she'd been running, not that kind of breathless, but almost as though . . . she just never breathed.

He chuckled the slightest bit in spite of himself. "Does it count when they're both gay?"

She flitted her wrist dismissively, silver bangles sparkling against the pub's dim lighting. "Details." Scooting closer, Luna gave him a very disconcerting stare. "Seriously, Harry. What's wrong?"

Harry hesitated just the slightest bit, but knew that he couldn't hide a thing from Luna. "I don't know, it's just been rough lately. The last couple of months have been . . . "

"Hell?" she supplied sweetly, waving the bartender over. "A Shirley Temple, love, and take your time. I have a feeling we'll be here a while." To Harry, she said, "Tell me about it, Harry. Start at the beginning. Don't stop until you get to this very minute in this pub."

And so he did. He let his thoughts tumble unexamined from his mouth, feeling the anger and frustration and pain flow freely, feeling a peace coming over him as he allowed everything to come out in the open, feeling fresh and new and naked.

"It wouldn't even be so bad if we'd been having a rough go of it before this all happened," he explained, running his fingers through his hair and taking a sip of the strangely sweet amber liquor. "But everything was fine. We were starting to get serious, I mean, really serious. I slept over with him more nights than not. We had something going that was so much deeper than just shagging - but there was plenty of that, too, so it wasn't like he was hurting for sex. I just don't understand how he could do this to me."

Luna nodded sagely. "Well, he is a man," she said cryptically.

"And what's that supposed to mean? I'm a man, too, in case you hadn't noticed," Harry demanded, one part irritated and two parts intrigued by her approach to helping him.

"Well, why don't you think I date men? Because they do what men do. It's not their fault," she explained, not helping in the slightest. "Go on, Harry. Tell me the rest."

"And then, you know, he even made me this fantastic dinner. It was really good, but I was skeptical because he's crafty sometimes. So at first I thought that's what he was a little agitated about. And then I thought it was because, you know, he was going to confess his feelings."

"Ah. You thought he loved you," Luna supplied, drinking daintily from her fruity drink. "Fascinating."

"Well, yeah. Because I thought that four months was plenty enough time to fall in love with someone."

"Two minutes is enough to fall in love with someone. So is two years. It's all subjective," she said.

Harry stared at her. "Since when are you the wise one? And where did you get those bracelets?"

"From a gypsy I met in Romania. And wisdom is subjective, too. I'm just a good listener. Here," she said, taking off one of the bracelets and handing it to him, "this one is for good luck in love. I think you need it more than I do."

"This stuff doesn't work, you know," Harry said, but he took it and gave it a scrutinizing once-over. Upon closer review, he could see that it was etched with dancing fairies and radishes. After a long pause, he simply said, "Thank you."

"I really think it'll make all the difference for you. You shouldn't be so critical. Draco can't help it if he's a slut."

Harry laughed, really laughed. It felt good to find something amusing, and even better to be able to express his amusement. "You pinned him quick enough!" he exclaimed as soon as he could draw a breath.

"Of course. He's a man." Luna smiled and put her merrily-tinkling arms around him. "And so are you. But you'll be fine." She gave him a little squeeze and let go, patting his shoulder. "So, don't worry. When it's meant to be, you don't lose each other."

"Luna, I hate to contradict you because that's a very sweet sentiment, but I don't think we're meant to be. How could it be meant to be if a woman is having his baby? Who knows, maybe they'll even get married. Would I be the maid of honor or the best man? Ha!"

Luna's face adopted a deep, thoughtful expression. "The maid of honor, I'd say. It would be awkward the other way around."

"I was joking."

She smiled. "No, you weren't. They're not going to get married. They're going to be friends. She's probably already tired of seeing him every day. You really should forgive him, you know. For her sake."

"For her sake, huh?" Harry stared at his drink, shaking the glass in a circular motion, watching the liquid swirl and distort. "Maybe I should."

"No maybes here! You should! You will. So, go do it." She gave him a playful little shove of encouragement. "Go on, now! You're not needed here anymore."

Harry stared out through the grimy glass door at the building across the street, excitement and anxiety rising in his throat. "You know what? I will."