AUTHOR'S NOTE: I don't own the Harry Potter Universe

Harry Potter noticed the strange noise filtering through 12 Grimmauld Place a second after he closed the front door. His brow crinkled. He'd never heard anything like it before. Soft prolonged grunts, followed by muffled high-pitched squeals. His ears tracked the noise down the hallway to his wife's study.

"Luna? Luna, are you in there?"

Harry proceeded down the hallway until he reached the appropriate room. The door to Luna's study was open. He poked his head in.

A glowing red transparent ball floated in the middle of the room. Harry noticed a Muggle CD hovering in the center of it. Just above it was the image of a large finned creature. His eyes moved from the CD to the old-fashioned rolltop desk, where Luna Potter sat writing on a piece of parchment.

"Luna?"

She spun in her chair, the radish-shaped earrings swaying from her lobes. Her pale face lit up with a smile. "Harry. Did you just get home from work? I didn't even hear you come in."

"I can't imagine why." He glanced at the CD, which emitted a sound that reminded him of a belch played at slow speed. He crossed the room, bent down and kissed Luna. "What are you up to?"

"I'm just finishing up an article for The Quibbler. There's a new phenomenon being reported out of Central America. Werejaguars."

"Werejaguars, eh?" Harry simply nodded, as he did with all the farcical creatures his wife came up with. "Why do I sense another foreign expedition coming up this summer?"

Luna's already huge eyes widened. "Oh, what a wonderful idea. And we can even take in the Quidditch World Cup while we're there. It is going to be in Mexico this year."

Elation exploded inside Harry. He didn't know how he kept himself from bouncing around the room. He leaned down again and kissed Luna, only pulling his lips away from hers when his starving lungs screamed for air.

"I love you, you know that?"

Luna ran her fingers across Harry's cheek. "I love you, too."

Harry straightened up. A high-pitched groan caught his attention. He looked to the CD. "Um, Luna. What exactly is that?"

"It's a Muggle CD. You've seen them before."

"I know it's a CD. But what kind of music is it?"

"Oh. Here." Luna handed him the CD case.

Harry examined it. It showed an underwater picture of a Humpback Whale. The words above it read, NATURE'S CONCERT SERIES: THE HUMPBACK WHALE.

"Where did you get this?"

"Remember Frija, the Muggle-born witch we met in Sweden last year when we were searching for Yellow-Frilled Klaarscutter."

Harry nodded. He doubted he'd ever forget Frija, the portly dark-haired Swede who loved to show off her moving tattoos of whales and dragons.

"Well," Luna continued. "She owled me this CD. It just arrived today. Such wonderful music to listen to when I'm writing. It seems to unlock more creativity in me. Maybe I'll do a story on the stimulating power of whale songs. I think if I listen to it longer, I'll be able to tell exactly what they're saying."

"Uh-huh." Harry studied his wife's face. It glowed the way it always did whenever she discovered something new and exciting, especially when it came to Muggle music. He remembered her fascination with Native American flute music when they were in Arizona a couple years ago studying folklore surrounding coyotes. Then there was the time Seamus Finnigan's cousin Marlene played them a CD of Celtic folk singer Loreena McKennitt. Luna spent an entire night explaining to him the deeper meaning of the song "The Mummers Dance."

They proved to be fleeting fads for Luna. Within days, sometimes a week or two, she'd tire of her latest musical interest and move on to something else.

Harry turned back to the CD. He frowned slightly at the guttural squeals and groans of the Humpback Whale. He didn't know if he could call this music. Actually, all these noises the whale made sounded rather . . . depressing. Harry looked at the back of the CD case. He drew his head back when he noticed the duration. Fifty-five minutes! Listening to just a couple minutes of this couldn't produce even a tingle of excitement in him. He couldn't imagine listening for nearly an hour.

He looked back at Luna. She had closed her eyes and started swaying to the whale song.

Well, if anyone can truly enjoy this for an hour, Luna can.

Thankfully, if history was any indicator, she'd eventually lose interest in this CD.

For Harry, that couldn't happen soon enough.

XXXXX

Harry Potter stood in front of the door to 12 Grimmauld Place. He glanced up to the cloudy sky.

Please, God. Please let this be the day.

He opened the door and walked inside.

"Luna. I'm home."

Luna's voice didn't greet him.

The high and low moans of a Humpback Whale did.

Harry groaned silently. A month. Luna had been listening to the whale song CD for a solid month. That was the only CD she'd listen to. What's worse, the damn whale song kept getting stuck in his head. At work, during shopping trips to Diagon Alley, even one night when he and Luna had been making love.

This has to end. It has to.

A few times Harry felt compelled to pull rank as the man of the house and tell Luna, "no more whale songs, for the sake of my sanity." But he couldn't bring himself to do that. He wasn't that kind of man. Plus, the whale songs made his wife happy. How could he deny Luna anything that made her happy? Harry accepted the fact he'd have to endure his wife's latest phase . . . and hope it wouldn't cause him to bang his head against the wall.

Over supper Luna mentioned she appeared close to translating the meaning behind the whale songs. She also asked if they could go to one of the Muggle music stores in London this weekend so she could search for more whale song CDs.

"Of course," Harry said flatly, wishing his wife had instead asked him to become best friends with Draco Malfoy.

At least when he slept, it gave him a respite from the whale songs. Harry quickly drifted off into a wonderful dream. He was at the enormous Quidditch World Cup stadium the Weasleys took him to just before his Fourth Year at Hogwarts. But instead of being in the stands, Harry flew over the pitch, wearing his old Gryffindor Quidditch robes. His old house team soared around him. Oliver Wood, Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, even Fred and George Weasley.

Isn't Fred dead?

The thought vanished from his mind as he looked across the pitch at Viktor Krum and the rest of the Bulgarian National Team. Suddenly the two darted around the stadium, searching for the Golden Snitch. Harry took occasional glances at the rest of the action. He smiled as Angelina, Alicia and Katie scored at will on the Bulgarians. Wood stopped every shot that came his way. Fred and George couldn't have been more brilliant hitting Bludgers at the opposition. Already three Bulgarians had been knocked off their brooms.

A glint of gold caught Harry's eye. The Golden Snitch. He raced across the pitch for it. Krum, meanwhile, sat on his broom, looking around dumbfounded.

The Snitch was just a few feet away. A flutter went through Harry's stomach. England was going to win the World Cup. He would be the hero of . . .

A loud moan shook the very air around him.

His eyes fluttered open. The Snitch, the Gryffindor team, the stadium. All of it vanished, replaced by his darkened bedroom. A deep, prolonged moan arose next to him.

Harry rolled over in bed. Luna lay on her back, eyes closed, smiling. She emitted another moan, this one at a higher pitch.

He blinked in disbelief, mouth agape.

Luna was humming whale songs in her sleep.

"Um, Luna? Sweetheart?" Harry nudged her shoulder ever-so-gently.

Luna continued to make low and high-pitched moans.

Sighing, Harry rolled back over on his side of the bed, grabbed his pillow and pressed it over his ears.

Why me?

XXXXX

Harry plopped down on the sofa, clutching a bottle of butterbeer. Luna was out late tonight doing an interview for one of her Quibbler articles. That meant no whale songs echoing throughout the house. Instead, Harry cranked up the Wizarding Wireless, which filled the air with Lee Jordan's commentary on the big Holyhead/Portsmouth Quidditch match. The winner here would clinch a berth in the upcoming national tournament.

"Johnson takes the Quaffle, just misses a Bludger batted at her by Pelidon. Now she chucks the Quaffle to Venner. Venner back to Johnson . . . Johnson scores! Third goal of the game for Angelina Johnson, the most beautiful Chaser in the league as voted on by . . . me. Now Holyhead trails Portsmouth by ten points, 70-60."

Harry perched on the edge of the sofa, sipping his butterbeer and gazing intensely at the wireless. Holyhead took the lead, then Portsmouth reclaimed it. Then Holyhead jumped back in front. And so it went, back and forth, back and forth.

"And now it appears Ginny Weasley has spotted the Golden Snitch. She's racing for the north end of the pitch. But Portsmouth's Seeker, Glenn Gomes, is right on her tail."

"C'mon, Ginny," Harry rooted, clenching his fist. "C'mon."

"Gomes tries to overtake Weasley. She gives him a none-too-gentle bump. Gomes bumps back. Both Seekers look glued to one another as they bank toward the east side of the pitch."

Harry barely noticed the front door open. He glimpsed Luna enter the foyer.

"Good evening, Harry."

"Hey, Luna." He refocused on the wireless just as Lee Jordan reported Portsmouth had been awarded a penalty shot after Ginny drove an elbow into the side of Gomes' skull.

"Harry. You'll never guess what I discovered."

"What, luv?" Harry looked to his wife as she circled the sofa and sat on its overstuffed arm. Most of his attention, however, was on the match, and the fact Portsmouth made good on its penalty shot . . . dammit.

"Well, after I finished my interview, I went back to The Quibbler office and worked some more on translating those whale songs."

"Uh-huh." Harry grimaced a bit. He concentrated on keeping those noises from creeping back in his head, especially while listening to such an important match.

Luna went on. "I did it. I found out what the whales are saying."

"Good for you, Luna. I'm glad." Harry looked back to the wireless.

"Both Weasley and Gomes have reacquired the Snitch! Weasley zigzags, trying to keep Gomes from getting ahead of her."

"Don't you want to know what they're saying?" asked Luna.

"Hmm? Oh, of course."

"Gomes goes overtop of Weasley! Now he dives toward the ground! Weasley follows, close on his heels!"

"They're mating calls," said Luna. "They're crying out for love."

"Really?" Harry didn't take his eyes off the wireless. "That's interesting."

"Weasley pulls alongside Gomes! Gomes breaks left, right into Weasley! She almost gets knocked off her broom! But Weasley holds on. Again both Seekers are neck-and-neck and locked on to that Snitch."

"I don't know why I didn't realize it before." Luna's dreamy voice mingled with the Quidditch commentary. "The sounds, the melodies, it's all so stirring."

"Great," Harry nodded.

"Both Weasley and Gomes have their hands outstretched, desperately reaching for the Snitch."

"I know it stirred something in me."

Harry's brow furrowed. What did Luna mean by that?

Luna's delicate hand slowly glided across Harry's chest, then turned and slid toward his stomach. A mass of soft hair pressed against the right side of his face. Luna's lips pecked at Harry's neck.

Uh-oh.

Luna's gentle pecks turned into gentle love bites. Her caresses grew more demanding.

"Um . . . Luna." Harry's breathing increased. Electricity shot through his entire body, especially around his waist.

"Weasley and Gomes bank hard right, jostling one another for better position. Gomes grabs for the Snitch. Misses! Now Weasley goes for it."

Luna started unbuttoning Harry's shirt. She buried her face in his neck, emitting high and low-pitched moans, just like a whale. The vibrations rolled through his body.

"L-Luna. The . . . The match."

"Weasley pulled ahead of Gomes. She grabs for the Snitch. Misses! Gomes shoves Weasley. She shoves back."

Luna kissed Harry along his jaw line, then the corner of his mouth. Her lips brushed over his.

"Weasley reaches out. Makes a lunge for the . . ."

Harry missed the rest of it. He wrapped his arms around his wife and kissed her fiercely. He pulled her onto the couch with him. Their tongues dueled. Hands roamed over their bodies. Luna continued imitating whale mating songs. Harry's heart pounded furiously. Desire overflowed within him. He completely forgot about the Holyhead/Portsmouth match as he and Luna undressed one another.

(NINE MONTHS LATER)

"Oh, Harry. He's absolutely adorable."

Harry smiled as he observed Mrs. Weasley, hands clasped in front of her, beaming at the little bundle in Luna's arms.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley." Harry bit his lip, a lump forming in his throat as he gazed down at James Sirius Potter.

My son. I have a son.

"He has your face, Harry." Luna lay in the bed at St. Mungo's, never taking her eyes off their newborn son.

"And he has your eyes, my little moonbeam." Xenophilius Lovegood gently stroked his daughter's hair.

Luna smiled up at her father, then turned to her husband. "Here, Harry. You hold him for a bit."

Harry took little James from Luna. He carefully cradled the baby in his arms, smiling the entire time.

"Oh, Arthur." Mrs. Weasley tugged on her husband's elbow. "Take a picture."

Harry didn't even look up as Mr. Weasley snapped a photo. He continued to stare at his new son. So many thoughts went through his head. All the things he wanted to do with James, all the things his own father never had the opportunity to do with him. He would make absolutely certain James had the sort of childhood Harry himself never had. His son would be surrounded by people who loved him. The Weasleys, an eccentric yet doting grandfather in Xenophilius, incredible godparents in Ron and Hermione, and of course, the most amazing woman in the world for a mother.

He glanced at Luna, who settled back on her pillow, smiling up at them.

"I love you," he mouthed to her. His mind propelled him back earlier in the year. He recalled how Luna's whale song CD had nearly driven him mad, how he practically ignored his wife talking about what those songs meant because he'd been more interested in a Quidditch match.

And if it wasn't for those whale songs, I wouldn't be holding my son in my arms today.

Harry leaned closer to James' face and emitted a drawn out, low-pitch moan, followed by a high-pitched moan.

James gurgled in response.

"What the heck was that?" Ron canted his head at Harry.

Harry looked over to Ron, then switched his gaze toward Luna.

"Just something . . . special between the three of us."

- THE END -