dedicated to @potterheadlovespotter (hope you like it <3)
Peaceful Wakeups II
βDo you believe in happy endings?"
The ringing in your ears quieted as you turned toward the voice, lifting your head from Harry's shoulder. Rubble surrounded you, and dust clung to both your skins, settling in every crease and fold like ash. The Great Hall was filled with survivors, moving and murmuring in a daze, but none of it felt real.
They had done it. Voldemort was gone. The war was over. And yet the acid in your throat, the one that had risen the moment you stepped back into Hogwarts, refused to leave.
Everything around you seemed distant, suspended in a dream you couldnβt wake from. You didnβt feel real. You werenβt sure if you ever would again.
Harryβs voice had barely broken the air when he spoke. His eyes were fixed on the bodies being carried from the room, the light in them dimmed and washed out. Your gaze followed his, and that burn in your throat deepened, spreading through you like something toxic.
His arm stayed wrapped around you, his hand pressed tightly to your shoulder, and though you could feel it, the sensation was muted. It was too comforting, too grounding.
You forced yourself to swallow.
βDo you?β
The words slipped from your mouth, soft and uncertain, hanging in the quiet space between you. You turned to look at him again, searching his face, unsure what you hoped to find. The green of his eyes looked darker than usual in the dimming light, and his skin was littered with cuts and bruises, each one caked with soot and dried blood.
He looked different now.
His cheeks were hollow, lips graying. His face had thinned so much it almost didnβt look like him. For a moment, you wondered if he really was alive.
Your stomach twisted.
Your mind went back to that moment, just before he slipped from Hagridβs arms. When Voldemort announced him dead. When McGonagall screamed, so loud it felt like the walls should have shattered. When your breath caught in your throat and didnβt return, and the sound in your ears grew so sharp and overwhelming that you couldnβt hear anything else. When the cold had crept into your bones and made a home there.
You werenβt sure if you had stopped breathing by choice or by instinct.
You werenβt sure how you ever started again.
His fingers tightened on your shoulder, drawing you back to the present. He turned toward you slowly, and the movement made something sink inside your chest. His face was too pale, too quiet. The grey in his skin made the ruins around you seem more vibrant by comparison. But his eyes, though dulled for hours, now flickered with something small and warm. Like the reflection of a flame in still water.
His thumb brushed gently across your skin.
βNot really,β he said, voice hoarse and rough. He didnβt look away. βBut Iβ¦β
The words caught, and his expression shifted. He closed his eyes for a moment, eyebrows knitting together as he drew a slow, unsteady breath. When he opened them again, he leaned forward, pressing his lips softly to your forehead. He lingered there before resting his head against yours.
βI could have lost you today,β he whispered, his voice tight with emotion. βIf happy endings exist, itβs because I got a second chance at a life with you.β
Your breath hitched, and a tremble moved through you as the sting behind your eyes grew stronger. You wanted to blame the dirt, the dust, the smoke still hanging in the air, but your shaking shoulders and the quiet hiccup that escaped your lips betrayed the truth.
Harryβs arms closed around you, pulling you closer, his hand slipping into your hair as you broke. You cried into his shoulder, letting the sobs come, breathing in the scent of battle still clinging to his clothes.
For the first time in hours, you could feel again. The air touched your skin. His warmth held you. His breath brushed your cheek. Your heart was beating.
So was his.
And for the first time, you began to wonder.
Maybe happy endings were possible after all.
β
Four Months Later.
Harry rubbed his hands over his pants, his heart beating wildly in his chest. Sweat glistened across his neck and forehead in the fireplace lighting as he stood nervously in the living room, anxiously checking the placements of the flowers and candles.
Sweat clung to his palms and his body burned like he was standing in the fire. He let out a few quick breaths, closing his eyes as he swallowed the bile in his throat.
What if it's too soon?
His stomach twisted and he brought a fist to his hair, his chest constricting as he took in a deep breath.
The image of you flooded his mind. Your smile, growing ever brighter as the pain of war faded into memory, and the way your eyes sparkled like his own private constellation. A quiet warmth washed over him, settling deep into his bones.
"I'm going to marry you one day," his voice echoed, young and naive, spoken before the fire of his prophecy took hold of his fate. Back when your touch was playful, haunted by nothing heavier than fairytales.
βPromise?β
βI swear it."
The front door opened with a soft click, startling him. He turned just as you stepped inside, your head lowered, eyes fixed on the leather-bound book in your hands. Too caught in thought, you slipped off your jacket without noticing the boy watching you, his heart burning like fire in his chest.
"How was Luna?"
Your head snapped up at the sound of his voice. Candlelight bathed the walls in gold, casting a gentle glow over the flowers and petals scattered throughout the room. Your knees wavered, breath catching in your throat.
Something warm bloomed inside you. As your eyes moved slowly across the room, surprise and wonder stirred within you, until they found his. Just a few steps away, his green eyes held you still, steady and soft, like he had been waiting for this moment all along.
βHarry?β you breathed, unsure if he was real or just something your heart had imagined.
His hand trembled as he reached for you, a shaky breath escaping his lips. He gave you a small smile. Wobbly, uncertain, and somehow powerful enough to strike something deep inside you.
Your bag slipped from your elbow and hit the floor, followed by the book of fantastical creatures Lunaβs new boyfriend had given you.
You stood still for a moment, heart racing, before closing the short distance between you. Gently, you placed your hand in his. His skin was soft, warm beneath your touch, and his eyes held you steady as the room seemed to fall away.
He took a slow breath, trembling fingers brushing along your jaw, and for a moment you swore your heart might burst from your chest.
"Hi," he whispered, his touch featherlight.
You blinked, a giddy smile tugging at your lips before you could stop it.
"Hi?"
"So, how was Lunaβs?"
The repeated question caught you off guard, your eyes flicking between his. The candlelight turned his emerald gaze into a forest of green and gold, the flecks glowing like something only you were ever meant to see.
Your throat felt dry, and the warmth rising in your chest spread through your limbs, making your skin tingle.
"Iβ¦ good," you said softly, your voice barely more than a breath. "She made cranberry pie.β
A quiet hum left him as he swallowed, his gaze still locked on yours. If you were right about what he was about to do, then this was him trying to steady his nerves, letting your presence settle the chaos he was carrying.
You let his gaze hold yours, letting yourself fall into him for a few moments. His grip tightened now and then, as if he needed the grounding, but eventually, the pounding in your chest became too much to ignore.
βHarry, whatβs going on? What is all this?β
He took a deep breath, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before his shoulders eased into a calmer posture. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he looked at you, then stepped back slightly, gesturing around the room.
βThisβ¦ is me keeping my promise.β
Your brows drew together as he turned to the fireplace mantel and picked up a torn leather journal. His fingers glided over the worn edges, and something in you stirred.
You recognized it.
It was the same journal he wrote in during the hunt for Horcruxes. The one he never let anyone read. Not even you.
βIs thatβ¦?β
You stepped forward slowly. He glanced up and gave a small nod.
βYeah. It got a little ruined, butβ¦β
His hand brushed across his bottom lip before he stepped closer again, now standing directly in front of you. He swallowed hard, his eyes locking with yours.
βI lied,β he said, voice low and rough. βThere arenβt any plans in here. No strategies. No theories. At least, not about Horcruxes. Or Voldemort. Or any of it.β
Your lips parted, confused.
βIβm not sure I understand.β
βNo,β he said gently, βI think you do.β
He reached for your hand and placed it over the journal. You curled your fingers around it, letting him guide it into your grasp. But your eyes never left his.
βOpen it,β he whispered.
You inhaled, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you carefully opened the book. The leather creaked softly beneath your fingers.
On the very first page was your name, written in his messy but beautiful handwriting. Youβd always thought your name looked loveliest when he said it or when you saw it in his writing.
You traced it lightly, your hand trembling. Your teeth caught your bottom lip as you swallowed, then turned the page.
14 September 1991
The day I finally had the courage to talk to Y/N Y/L/N.
She was wearing this soft yellow dress with tiny daisies along the hem, like sheβd stepped out of a herbology handbook.
Her boots were scuffed and muddy, probably from following Professor Sprout through the greenhouses again. I remember wondering if she even noticed the mess, or if she liked the feeling of dirt under her soles.
There was a streak of soil on her cheek, and a leaf caught in her hair. She didnβt seem to mind either.
I think I stared too long. She caught me once, but she just smiled and kept rambling to Sprout about some magical seedling I couldnβt pronounce. I didnβt understand half the words, but I remember the sound of her voice. It was fast and warm and full of life.
I told her I needed help in Charms. I didnβt. I had finished the assignment the night before. But I needed an excuse. I needed a reason to hear her speak to me the way she spoke to the plants. And when she looked up, bright-eyed and eager, and said βOf course Iβll help,β I felt something shift.
She sat beside me on the grass later that day. Our robes got damp and I didnβt care. I donβt think she did either. She smelled like vanilla and honeysuckle. I kept pretending not to understand the lesson just to keep her talking.
Itβs strange, really. Iβve fought monsters. Iβve faced death. But to this day, nothing scared me more than asking her for help with a spell I already knew.
β
Your eyes fluttered as you flipped through the pages, date after date slipping past your fingers like falling leaves. The sting behind your eyes returned, that familiar blur rising as you blinked quickly to keep the tears at bay.
Every page held pieces of you. Little moments, quiet memories, things you thought no one would remember.
But he had.
He remembered everything.
7 June 1994
I donβt know why I said it. Or maybe I do. Maybe Iβve always known.
I told Y/N I was going to marry her.
We werenβt even really dating yet. Not officially. But I think we both knew. There was something about us that felt settled, like it had already been decided long before we ever said it out loud.
She looked so pretty that day. A little tired, still aching, her arm tucked in a sling from the night before, but there was this light in her. She still smiled like she wasnβt hurting. Like helping me had been worth it.
It was the night we saved Sirius. The night I thought I might lose her. That feeling, watching her run into danger just because I was there, it stayed with me. It never really left.
The next morning, she sat down beside me on the grass. She didnβt say anything at first, just leaned into the quiet like she always did. And then she gave me that smile. The one that unravels everything, and I knew I could spend a lifetime chasing it.
So I said it.
βIβm going to marry you one day.β
She blinked, then laughed. Not because she didnβt believe me, but like she hadnβt expected it to come so soon. Then she looked at me, serious all of a sudden, and made me promise.
I didnβt even hesitate.
β
βYou were still wearing those awful brown boots that day.β
Harryβs voice was quiet, almost a whisper, as he watched your finger trace along the page. Your tear-glossed eyes lifted to meet his, and he gave you that smile. The one that always made your stomach flutter, no matter how many times youβd seen it.
He reached up and gently wiped a tear from your cheek. You hadnβt even realized you were crying.
βHarryβ¦β
His thumb lingered softly against your skin as he spoke again, his voice barely more than breath.
βI needed to write it all down. Just in case.β His gaze shimmered, and through your blurry vision, you saw it. The mist in his eyes. βIf anything happened to me, I needed you to know what you meant to me. That I never loved anyone the way I love you.β
You inhaled sharply, trying to swallow the knot rising in your throat. No words came. It felt like your voice had been sealed away, caught under the weight of everything you were feeling.
Harry didnβt wait for you to speak. His hands moved gently over the journal, turning the pages with care until he found the one he was looking for, near the back.
You looked down as he stopped.
Your breath caught.
If We Get Tomorrow
1. Propose.
2. Build a life with her.
3. Wake up beside her every day.
4. Make her laugh for the rest of my life.
5. Never let go.
You gasped softly as your eyes fell to the bottom of the page.
Y/N Y/L/N, Iβm going to love you forever.
When you looked up, the air caught in your throat. Harry was already reaching into his pocket, slowly pulling out a small box as he sank down on one knee. Your legs wobbled beneath you as you closed the journal with trembling hands, letting it fall to your side.
He opened the box with care, revealing a ring, delicate and steady in his shaking fingers.
βI told you once that if happy endings exist, itβs because I got to live this life with you,β he said, his voice low and unsteady. βAnd I meant it. Youβre my happy ending, Y/N.β
You brought a hand to your mouth, trying to stop the sound that rose in your throat. Tears spilled freely now as you slowly sank to your knees, letting the journal slip from your grasp.
The ring shimmered in the candlelight, but it wasnβt what held you in place. It was his eyes. Clear and green and full of something that felt like forever.
βWill you marry me?β he whispered.
You couldnβt speak. Your voice was caught somewhere between disbelief and joy, and all you could do was nod, wiping at your eyes with your sleeve.
βHarry,β you finally breathed, your voice cracking. βOf course Iβll marry you.β
He exhaled, long and deep, like heβd been holding that breath for years. Then he smiled. It was bright and boyish, pure in a way you hadnβt seen in so long.
He reached for your hand and slid the ring onto your finger, his touch soft and reverent.
βYou have no idea how scary that was.β
You let out a tearful laugh, still wiping your cheeks as he leaned in and pulled you close. His hands cradled your face as his lips met yours. The kiss was warm and salty from the tears, but soft and certain, like everything had finally fallen into place.
βIβm going to love you forever,β you whispered against his lips, the words trembling with truth, echoing the ones he had written with shaking hands and a hopeful heart.
He didnβt speak right away. Instead, he rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed, like he was memorizing the moment. His fingers brushed softly along your bottom lip, tender and slow, as if grounding himself in your presence.
βPromise?β he asked, barely more than breath, but everything in him was in that question.
βI vow it,β you murmured.
Bonus Scene:
7th June 1994
You hopped down the steps of the courtyard, your left arm resting carefully in a sling. It didnβt hurt much anymore, not after Madame Pomfrey worked her magic, but it was still too weak to use, which frustrated you more than youβd admit.
Then again, that was the least of your worries right now.
Harry could barely look you in the eyes after last night.
You shouldnβt have been surprised. After three years of knowing him, you shouldβve recognized the guilt in his shoulders the moment your arm made that awful crunch. Youβd jumped in front of him when Professor Lupin struck, and yet you were sure Harry had spent the night blaming himself.
You didnβt. Not for a second.
You werenβt exactly sure what you and Harry were at this point in time. It was clear you liked each other, too many lingering glances and half-spoken what ifs had made that obvious, but whatever it was seemed to press heavier on Harryβs shoulders than yours.
Like caring about you came with a weight he wasnβt sure how to carry.
Your boots crunched quietly against the grass as you crossed the courtyard, scanning the edges just like Ron told you to. He said Harry had wandered out here an hour ago, quiet and far away in that way only Harry could be.
Your feet ached a little as you walked. The boots were starting to get too small, pinching at the toes with every step, but they were too cute to let go. And they were your favorites.
You didnβt realize you were holding your breath until you spotted him. He was sitting alone near the fountain, knees pulled up, fingers weaving blades of grass through each other in slow, nervous movements. The light caught in his glasses, and his hair was messier than usual, like heβd run his hands through it one too many times.
He looked up just as you approached.
And for a second, he looked like he might run.
You held your breath, standing still for a moment before taking a few quiet steps forward. He didnβt move, just sat there frozen. As you got closer, he looked away, turning his gaze to the concrete path as if it held the answers he couldn't find in you.
The soft flutter of wings echoed above as a few birds passed by, their flight the only thing moving in the stillness between you.
You lowered yourself beside him in the small patch of grass, careful not to jostle your sling. Your right shoulder brushed his, light but certain, and still, you werenβt sure what to say. The silence lingered.
Harry shifted beside you, his shoulders rising with a deep, uneven breath. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him part his lips, like he was about to speak, but he paused.
You let your hand settle between you, your pinky brushing gently over his.
βIβm sorry,β he finally breathed, the words slipping out like something heβd been holding for too long. βIβ¦β
You turned toward him in surprise, eyes wide. He looked at you helplessly, words caught in his throat.
Amusement stirred in your belly. You couldnβt help it. You covered your nose as a quiet laugh escaped. Shaking your head, you gave him a smile, one that softened the sting of the moment.
βYouβre ridiculous, you know that, right?β
Harry blinked, stunned, his mouth still slightly open. His green eyes stayed on you, wide and searching, as if he didnβt know what to do with your laughter.
His cheeks darkened.
You tilted your head, smile still curving your lips.
βWhat?β you asked, voice soft.
He simply shook his head, a quiet smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as his finger gently hooked around yours. The gesture was small, but it sent something fluttering through your chest.
He cleared his throat, and curiosity flickered in your eyes.
There was something different in his expression. A quiet kind of awe. Like he was seeing something he didnβt fully understand but never wanted to look away from.
Then, without hesitation, the words slipped from his lips. Soft, certain, and completely unshaken.
βIβm going to marry you one day.β
Your eyes widened, and you leaned back just slightly, taking in the boy beside you. He wasnβt joking. There was no hesitation in his eyes, no smirk on his lips. Just quiet sincerity, raw and real.
βWhere did that even come from?β you asked, voice breathless, a smile already tugging at your mouth.
Harry didnβt answer. He just kept looking at you like he was memorizing the way the light hit your face, like the words had slipped out before he could stop them but now that they were out, he had no regrets.
And then, without warning, laughter bubbled up in your chest. It wasnβt mocking or disbelieving. It was startled, giddy, so full of warmth and surprise that you had to cover your mouth with your hand to keep it from spilling out too loud.
You shook your head slowly, your grin threatening to split your face in two.
βPromise?β
He blinked, the question catching him for a moment. His lips parted like he wanted to say more, but instead, he just stared at you with something like wonder. Then he nodded, eyes never leaving yours.
βI swear it.β
You looked down at your hands, his pinky still hooked around yours, and something inside you softened.
βGood,β you whispered, leaning in closer until your head rested on his shoulder. βYou better keep itβ¦ or youβll regret it.β
Harry drew in a slow, shaky breath. He turned his head slightly, his breath ghosting over your hair before he closed his eyes and rested his head against yours.
βIβm really sorry about your arm,β he said quietly.
You lifted your head, startled by the way his voice cracked ever so slightly. His expression was unreadable. It was calm on the surface, but something behind his eyes was breaking.
βHarryβ¦β you murmured, searching his face. βThat wasnβt your fault.β
He looked at you, and the weight in his eyes made your breath catch.
βI should have protected you better.β
You frowned, heart aching at the self-blame you saw etched into every line of his face.
βThatβs not your responsibility,β you said, voice soft, almost pleading.
But he shook his head once, slow and certain, and brought a hand to your face, cupping your cheek with such care it nearly undid you.
βYes it is,β he said, this time firmer. His eyes didnβt waver. βYou got hurt because I was too slow. Because I hesitated. And I know people keep saying itβs not my fault, but that doesnβt make it hurt any less.β
He paused, swallowing hard, his thumb brushing over your skin like he was afraid he might lose you just by speaking the truth.
βI donβt ever want to see you in pain again. Not because of me. Not if I can stop it.β
Your eyes flickered between his, surprise etched across your face. Your lips parted, caught off guard, as you leaned back just enough to take him in fully.
There was something different about him now. Not in how he looked, but in the way he held your gaze. Something steadier. Heavier. Like he'd stopped being afraid of how much he felt.
And then his eyes locked harder onto yours, and it hit you like a jolt.
Iβm going to marry you one day.
Your breath escaped in a soft exhale, warmth rushing to your cheeks. You could feel the flush spread down your neck, your heart thudding so loudly you wondered if he could hear it.
You looked at him, eyes wide, lips trembling just slightly at the edges.
ββ¦Okay,β you whispered, breathless.
It wasnβt loud or dramatic. Just a word, small and fragile. But it was yours. And it was enough.
He smiled, the kind of smile that didnβt just touch his lips, but softened every line of his face. The kind of smile you knew, even then, youβd remember years later.
He didnβt say anything else. He didnβt have to.
And maybe it was too soon to know what forever looked like. Maybe the world was still too big and uncertain. But sitting there beside him, shoulder to shoulder in the fading light, your pinkies still linked between you like some unspoken vow, you felt something shift.
It wasnβt loud. It wasnβt sudden.
It was a quiet knowing. The kind that settled into your bones without asking permission.
You didnβt know when, but one day, Harry would keep his promise. And when he did, youβd say yes, like youβd been waiting your whole life to.
So... we all know that Luna married Rolf, Newt's grandson, right?
But think with me:
Newt was 84 years old in 1981, when Luna was born. That means that either Rolf was born really late (he could be Newt's youngest grandchild) or he was way older than Luna.
In most of my fanfics, my OC, Mary Scamander, is Newt's granddaughter. So, she's either Rolf's much older sister or cousin.
My theory is that Newt and Tina had more than just one child and Rolf was their youngest grandchild, but I would like to know your thoughts about it.
Iβve just finished my expedition in South America, and it was absolutely marvelous! I canβt wait to tell you all about the new creatures Iβve encountered.Β
Iβm so excited to see everyone again. It feels like ages since weβve all been together. Iβll be back very soonβprobably by the end of the month.
Give everyone my love and start warming up the kettle; Iβve missed your tea.
With lots and lots of love,
Luna
P.S. Oh I forgot to tell you - Iβve gotten married! His name is Rolf, and heβs quite wonderful Weβve been traveling together for a while now, and it seems that husbands like to follow their wives home, so heβll be coming along when I return to London. I think youβll like him!
Ginny read the letter three times, her eyes widening with each pass. Finally, she couldnβt keep it to herself any longer. βHarry!β she shouted, her voice echoing through their cottage with urgency.
Footsteps thundered up the stairs, and seconds later Harry burst into the kitchen, his hair still dripping from the shower. "Everything alright?" he asked, breathless, his eyes darting around the room for signs of danger.
"No!" Ginny yelled, clutching the letter like it was about to explode.
Harryβs gaze instantly flicked to the high chair, where little James was joyfully slapping his hands into a bowl of porridge, sending bits of it flying across the kitchen. "Whatβs goingβ?"
"Oh, weβre fine," Ginny interrupted, rolling her eyes as she saw the familiar tension in Harryβs stance. "Silence the Auror alarms going off in your head. Itβs just this. From Luna." She shoved the letter into Harryβs hands, barely containing her grin.
Harry took the parchment, his brow furrowing as he quickly read through the contents. As he reached the end, a small snort escaped him. He looked up at Ginny, an amused gleam in his emerald eyes. "Are we sure this Rolf bloke is a man? And not a very loyal stray dog she met?"
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Thank you to the incredible @fizzyginfizz for beta reading this fic and sharing her wonderful advice on writing humor with me. Making people laugh is a skill and you are a master at it.
Yeah! I tried to recreate it quickly but it will be added on the main family tree (the one on my pinned post). For me Rolf and Luna eventually got divorced (they realized they were better as friends and have a good relationship) and he got remarried, but I haven't thought of a name for his new wife yet.
