Pansy placed a hand over her heart, gasping as she took in the sickeningly picturesque scene.
"Merlin's beard, what fresh hell is this?" she muttered under her breath, feigning a dizzy swoon, as though she were about to confront some great, unknown peril.
Friendship. With Luna Lovegood.
Surely, this was how she died.
With a deep, exasperated inhale, she braced herself and approached the grand entrance.
The manor loomed overhead, its elegant architecture contrasting sharply with the unsettling fairy-tale landscape surrounding it. It was as if the estate itself was challenging her to turn back.
But Pansy Parkinson was no coward.
She lifted a hand, hesitating just long enough to bask in the sheer drama of the moment before, with a final flourish, she knocked on the door.
The sound echoed through the stillness, a prelude to whatever awaited her inside.
Anticipation thickened in the air, curling around her like an unseen force, thrumming in time with the quiet tension coiling in her chest.
She was standing at the edge of an entirely new world—a world that felt too bright, too cheerful, too much.
But Pansy had spent years conquering hostile territories.
And if this was some ridiculous, whimsical kingdom of sunshine and kindness, then so be it.
She was determined to conquer it, too.
When Theo finally swung open the door, his expression was a curious blend of irritation and surprise, as if the mere sight of Pansy on his doorstep was personally offensive to him.
"What are you doing here, Parkinson?" he asked, his eyebrow lifting with a mix of suspicion and mild exasperation.
Pansy rolled her eyes, lifting her chin in that perfectly practiced, haughty way she had mastered by the age of five.
"I'm here to make friends, Theodore." She let out an exaggerated sigh, as though the very notion of socializing was the heaviest burden ever placed upon her delicate shoulders. "Apparently, that's what I've been lacking in my life."
Theo's brow furrowed, and his voice dripped with slow, deliberate sarcasm.
"Leave my wife alone. She's too sensitive for you."
Before Pansy could fire back a retort, a gentle, airy voice drifted in from inside the manor.
"Who is it, my Sun?"
Pansy turned, blinking in surprise.
Theo barely contained a smirk. "It's a spoiled brat."
Pansy gasped theatrically, clutching at her chest as if she had been mortally wounded.
"Draco's here?" she exclaimed, her voice a perfect mix of shock and faux concern.
Luna's voice, light and full of amusement, responded before Theo could.
"No, it's the other one."
And then, as if summoned by pure moonlight, Luna appeared.
She glided toward the door, her presence effortlessly serene, as if she had drifted here on a passing breeze rather than walked. Her soft smile lit up the entranceway, casting a warmth that stood in direct contrast to Pansy's dramatic arrival.
"Oh, hello, Pansy!" Luna greeted, her voice cheerful, sincere—completely without edge.
Pansy felt her defenses waver, momentarily caught off guard by Luna's unwavering warmth.
For a split second, she almost abandoned her usual theatrics.
Then she recovered.
With a sugary-sweet smile, she turned to Theo, her tone dripping with faux innocence.
"What's this about a 'spoiled brat,' Theodore?"
Her glare could have shattered glass.
Theo, the picture of indifference, merely shrugged. "Are you not?"
Pansy's eyes narrowed into slits, her hand flying to her hip as she tilted her head in an exaggerated pose, her entire body radiating offense.
"Oh, why don't you just fuck off, Theodore?" she snapped, though the playful lilt in her voice betrayed any real bite.
Luna giggled, clearly entertained by their back-and-forth, and sensing an opportunity to bond, Pansy turned to her with an exaggerated look of concern.
"Luna, darling, we simply must do something about your husband. He's far too cheeky for his own good!"
The words hung in the air, and then—the unexpected happened.
Laughter.
Warm, unrestrained, genuine laughter.
And as it filled the space between them, Pansy felt something unfamiliar, yet not entirely unwelcome settle in her chest.
Maybe this wasn't a social trial after all.
Maybe—just maybe—this was something she could get used to.
Luna's smile brightened, her eyes sparkling with affection as she turned to Pansy.
"I have no doubt you'll manage, Pansy. Theo can be quite the handful, but I believe you're more than equipped for the task."
Pansy huffed dramatically, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a practiced flourish.
"Oh, don't you fret, Luna. I have my methods for dealing with unruly men," she declared, her voice dripping with mock severity as she shot another pointed look at Theo.
He rolled his eyes, but the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him.
"You think you can handle me, Parkinson?" Theo quipped, crossing his arms, clearly enjoying the exchange.
Pansy's eyes gleamed mischievously as she turned to Luna, leaning in with a conspiratorial smirk.
"Let's just say I have a few tricks up my sleeve."
Her tone was light, teasing—but there was an undercurrent of challenge, a push and pull neither she nor Theo seemed particularly inclined to resist.
The air buzzed with something electric, something almost effortless, and for the first time in a long time, Pansy felt at ease.
As Luna laughed softly, as Theo shook his head in mock defeat, as the three of them stood there, something resembling camaraderie taking shape between them, Pansy realized something
Maybe, just maybe—this whole friendship thing wouldn't be so bad after all.
Turns out, being friendly was a Herculean task for Pansy; every polite word felt as though it were being forcibly extracted from her lips against its will.
For Luna, however, it was effortless—as natural as breathing, as inevitable as the tide.
Pansy couldn't wrap her head around it.
Leaning in closer, her eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering across her face as she scrutinized Luna's perpetual, infuriatingly serene demeanor.
"Luna, have you ever done any drugs? Be honest with me."
Luna blinked, her serene smile never faltering.
"I've experimented with a few things." She said it so casually that Pansy nearly choked on her tea. Then, with an almost conspiratorial tilt of her head, Luna added, "Why do you ask? Are you offering?"
Her eyes widened in scandalized disbelief, her teacup nearly slipping from her fingers.
"Merlin's beard, no! I mean, I wish I had something to offer, but—" She threw her hands up dramatically. "That's not the point! The point is, why are you always so infuriatingly cheerful? It's unnatural!"
Luna tilted her head, her gaze drifting off as if contemplating the great mysteries of the universe.
"It's just who I am, I suppose." She shrugged, her voice light, thoughtful. "Life is filled with strange and wonderful experiences. Why not embrace the joy?"
She stared at her, absolutely dumbfounded.
"Joy?" she echoed, incredulous. "Is that what you call this relentless, all-consuming sunshine and rainbows? You must have a secret stash of optimism somewhere, and I demand to know where you're hiding it."
Luna giggled, the sound as airy and whimsical as ever.
"Perhaps I do," she mused, her eyes twinkling. "Or maybe I just choose to see the beauty in things."
Pansy huffed, half-annoyed, half-impressed against her will.
"You're positively maddening, you know that?"
Yet, despite herself, there was something… unsettlingly warm about Luna's presence, something strange and foreign blooming within her.
She let out an exaggerated sigh, pressing a dramatic hand to her forehead as if Luna's boundless positivity was physically weighing her down.
"Well, that's one way to look at it, I suppose." She shook her head. "But honestly, Luna, there has to be more to it. No one can be that happy all the time without some sort of magical intervention."
Luna's tranquil smile never wavered, even as her frustration peaked.
Then, without warning, Luna tilted her head slightly and said, as if it were the most logical thing in the world—
"Maybe you should try shagging Neville."
Pansy froze.
Her brain short-circuited.
Her entire body seized up in sheer, unfiltered disbelief.
"Excuse me?"
Luna's gaze remained distant, dreamy, as if she were already floating off into another realm of thought.
"Pansy, don't be so uptight. Sometimes a little affection can do wonders."
Pansy's shock rapidly morphed into theatrical dismay.
"I am NOT uptight!" she declared, outraged.
Then, a mischievous smirk flickered across her lips.
"But wait—hold on—did you really manage to take the lover boy's virginity?"
Luna blinked slowly, as if the question required deep philosophical contemplation.
"He offered it very willingly."
Pansy's jaw dropped. Her hand flew to her mouth in mock horror.
"Oh, goodness! He was so obsessed with you! You have noooo idea!"
Luna's enigmatic smile never wavered.
"Was he?" she mused, as if she had never considered it before. Then, with a small, knowing nod, "Well, I suppose it's still true."
Her eyes gleamed with intrigue.
"Okay, you have to spill everything. I need all the juicy details."
And just like that, a friendship was born.
Fueled by shared amusement over Theo's unrequited crush, Luna's ethereal musings, and Pansy's dramatic flair, the two opposing forces found themselves unexpectedly drawn together—
A whimsical storm meeting an unstoppable hurricane .
~~~~~~
Their world had become a kind of sanctuary, quiet and still, untouched by the noise and demands that lived beyond the manor's walls. It was easy to forget the rest of the world when everything they needed existed within these rooms. Time didn't press on them here. It drifted, shaped by the soft rhythm of shared mornings and the warmth of a life they had built together.
Theo had changed in ways he hadn't expected. He had once been defined by his discipline, by the sharp edges of ambition and duty, but those pieces of him had shifted without resistance. What mattered most now wasn't work or reputation or legacy. It was her.
Luna, growing rounder each day with the weight of the life they had created, had become the center of his world. He called her his star, his light, his reason. The words sometimes made her laugh, but he meant them all. Every moment of his day seemed to orbit around her, and the love he felt settled into everything he did.
Each morning, before the first slant of sunlight touched the floor, he would kiss her forehead gently, the touch more habit than thought now, a quiet promise that began and ended each day. He had taken to making breakfast, even though he was objectively terrible at it.
The toast came out too dark. The eggs were almost always too salty. But Luna never complained. She smiled as she ate, her eyes soft with affection, knowing that each meal was made with love and a little too much effort.
And for Theo, that was enough.
The manor had once been a place of echoing footsteps and silent rooms, its marble halls cold and untouched, its corners heavy with stillness. But since she had come, everything had changed. Her laughter reached into every forgotten space, filling them with warmth that refused to be ignored. Even his office, once rigid and spare, had softened into something more welcoming.
He had brought in a deep armchair and placed it near the window, just so she could sit and watch the wind move through the trees. When she was there, reading quietly or simply watching the sky shift, he found himself working with more ease. Her presence, even silent, grounded him in ways he had never expected.
Evenings had taken on a kind of sacredness. They became hours set aside for nothing but each other. Sometimes he read aloud, his voice slow and steady, losing himself in the rhythm of whatever story she had chosen that night. Other times, he spoke about his day—boring office updates, ridiculous memos, and the occasional piece of gossip—because he loved the way she smiled when he complained about things that didn't matter.
The way she looked at him in those moments, eyes soft and focused, made it feel like nothing else in the world existed.
But even in the quiet, even in the comfort, fear never drifted far from his mind.
Every time she shifted in discomfort or released a sigh she hadn't meant to, something in him tensed. He tried not to let it show, but at night he would wake just to check that she was still breathing evenly. His fingers would skim across her skin, light as a whisper, needing the reassurance of her warmth beneath his hand.
He knew she noticed. He knew she felt the weight of it.
But she never pulled away.
She never told him to stop or teased him for worrying too much. She just let him love her the only way he knew how—fiercely, without pause, with everything he had.
When work pulled him away, his mind never really left her. He sat through meetings with a distracted gaze, nodding in the right places but hearing little. His thoughts kept circling back to her, drawn by something steady and unshakable, a presence that tugged at him no matter how far he went.
He counted the hours until he could come home, and when he did, it was often with something in hand. A book she had once mentioned in passing. A bundle of wildflowers gathered from the garden before the sun dipped too low. A charm he thought might make her laugh. Whatever he could bring her, he did, if only for the chance to see her smile.
One quiet evening, the kind that passed without urgency, they sat together by the fire. Her head rested against his shoulder, and her fingers moved slowly over his hand, tracing thoughtless shapes like she wasn't even aware of it.
She looked up at him, her face soft in the firelight, her eyes reflecting something deeper than simple affection.
"You've done so much for me," she said, her voice low but certain. "I don't know how I would have managed without you."
His throat tightened, and he didn't try to speak right away. He turned his head and pressed a kiss to her temple, letting the moment settle around them.
"You are everything to me, my moonbeam," he murmured, his voice heavy with everything he felt. "If I could move mountains for you, I would. But I don't need to. As long as you're happy, as long as you feel safe and loved, that's enough. That's all I will ever need."
She reached up, cupping his cheek in her hand, her thumb brushing gently along his skin. Her touch was warm. Familiar. Steady in a way that made everything else fall quiet.
And in that stillness, with the fire crackling low and her fingers resting lightly against his jaw, he understood something simple and absolute.
Nothing mattered more than this.
Not the world beyond their walls, not the weight of expectations, not even the future. What mattered was her.
The love they had built—quiet, constant, undramatic in its depth—held strong.
And while the world outside would go on in its usual rush, here, in the warmth they had created, they had carved out something lasting.
Something that felt like forever.
~~~~~~
The manor had taken on a different kind of life, something warmer and louder, and it all seemed to trail behind Pansy Parkinson like perfume. Ever since Luna's pregnancy had become visible enough to spark comments, Pansy had declared it her sacred duty to visit as often as humanly possible. Her energy clashed spectacularly with Theo's ever-mounting protectiveness, and yet, somehow, it worked.
If Theo was the constant shadow, always hovering with a furrowed brow and a protective hand on Luna's back, then Pansy was sunlight crashing through the window, loud and unapologetic. She breezed in with too many bags, too many stories, and an opinion about everything, all delivered with the enthusiasm of someone who had absolutely no intention of being subtle.
Each visit began the same way. The door burst open, Pansy's arms overflowing with pastel parcels, and her voice carrying through the hall before she was even properly inside.
"Look at this," she would cry, brandishing a tiny, absurdly soft sweater or a magically humming rattle shaped like a golden snitch. "Tell me that's not the most perfect thing you've ever seen. I dare you."
She always claimed she had no self-control around baby shops, and Luna, seated nearby with one hand resting protectively over her growing belly, would offer her a patient smile.
"You really don't have to keep doing this, Pansy," she'd say gently, though the light in her eyes gave her away.
Pansy would wave her off with a dramatic flick of her wrist. "Please. This is a small price to pay for the honor of godmotherhood. Besides, your child deserves only the best. If I had to pick between a budget and a fabulous baby, the baby wins every time. Malfoy himself would be jealous of this nursery."
Their afternoons together blurred into something warm and easy. They shared pots of tea, piles of ribbons and tissue paper, and endless conversation that jumped between Hogwarts memories and increasingly chaotic predictions of what the baby's first words might be.
And for all his muttering and pacing, for all the side-eyes he gave every enchanted toy that moved a little too aggressively, even Theo couldn't resist the change. Something in him softened whenever Pansy was around. He smiled more. Worried a little less.
Even if he still hovered just a little.
Just enough to make sure the baby blanket wasn't enchanted to fly, and that Pansy's definition of "harmless charm" didn't involve glitter explosions.
"Theo, sit down before you start pacing a trench into the floor," Pansy said one afternoon, her voice languid but lined with that sharp Pansy edge, one perfectly arched brow lifting as if daring him to test her patience. "Honestly, you act like she's about to shatter. She is pregnant, not hexed by Morgana herself."
Theo sighed like a man who had aged twenty years in the last twenty minutes. He rubbed the back of his neck, mumbled something unintelligible, and finally sank into the armchair with all the grace of a martyr accepting his fate. "I just want to make sure she's comfortable."
"She is comfortable," Pansy replied flatly, pausing just long enough to let her smirk bloom. "Unlike you, who looks like you haven't seen sunlight since Beltane. Do you even remember what the outside world looks like, or are you starting to believe the manor walls are your only friends?"
Luna, always the calm eye in the hurricane of their theatrics, turned toward him with an amused sparkle in her eyes. "Pansy's right, my Sun. I think you need a little time to breathe."
Before Theo could muster even a word of protest, Pansy was already up, already ushering him toward the hallway with exaggerated hand gestures that belonged on a stage. "Theodore, take that ridiculous dog for a walk and let the grown women gossip in peace. Luna and I have very important secrets to discuss."
He blinked at her as if she had slapped him with a glove and demanded a duel. "What do you mean, 'secrets'? What sort of secrets require banishing me from my own home?"
"Scandalous ones," Pansy answered sweetly, eyes gleaming with mischief. She rested one hand on Luna's shoulder with performative gentleness, then looked back at Theo as if daring him to question her further. "Very intimate. Very sacred. Very pink."
Luna brought her hand to her mouth, trying (and failing) to stifle a laugh. Her expression was the embodiment of affectionate serenity. "Go on, love. We'll be here when you return. Try not to get into a duel with a squirrel."
Theo narrowed his eyes in suspicion but stood, slow and dramatic as ever, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like a curse directed at the universe. He paused only to cast a final look at the two women before grabbing the leash from the hook and stepping into the evening air. Lady, the tiny pug, yipped with boundless excitement and instantly began trying to wriggle out of her harness.
He had not even made it ten steps down the gravel path before it became clear that this had been a catastrophic miscalculation.
The dog—small, erratic, and deeply committed to personal chaos—jerked him along with surprising force, barking at everything in sight. A breeze? Bark. A leaf tumbling from a tree? Full vocal alarm. Her own reflection in a puddle? A shriek of canine horror and an immediate, furious leap.
Theo tried to retain dignity. He really did. But it was difficult to appear dignified while being dragged by something that weighed less than a kettle and had the manners of an angry pixie.
Lady Lemongrass. That was her name.
What an absolutely absurd, idiotic name for an absolutely absurd, idiotic dog.
The estate's usual tranquility shattered the moment Lady bolted free. The once serene grounds, where fairies had spent the morning drifting lazily on the breeze and nymphs had been lounging contentedly in sun-dappled glades, dissolved into a scene of utter madness as the tiny pug tore through it all like a pint-sized storm with far too much self-confidence. Winged creatures shrieked and scattered, vanishing into the trees or burrowing into the undergrowth in frantic retreat, while the garden gnomes, no strangers to chaos themselves, threw in the towel entirely and dove for cover without a second thought.
Theo followed in her wake, already muttering a storm of curses under his breath as the leash dragged uselessly from his hand. The pug galloped ahead with the deranged energy of something possessed, barking at anything that had the audacity to exist. A sprite zipped too close to the path and barely escaped with its wings intact, letting out a high-pitched squeal as it veered away, and Theo was about to turn around and call it a day when Lady made her most ill-advised move yet.
She spotted the hippogriff.
The massive, dignified creature stood in the clearing near the orchard, its wings folded, its eyes half-lidded in the afternoon haze. It had been enjoying the quiet. Until now.
Lady let out a war cry that could have rivaled a banshee, tore across the grass with all the menace of a charging army, and skidded to a stop just feet away from the startled creature, barking so furiously that her entire body wobbled with each yap.
The hippogriff reared back, feathers flaring and talons scraping against the earth. Its eyes narrowed, and it let out a piercing screech that made Theo's blood run cold.
"Absolutely not," Theo groaned, lunging forward with the speed of a man who had already accepted that death was inevitable but preferred it come without beak wounds. He grabbed the leash just as Lady lunged again, lifting her off the ground in one smooth motion like a wildly flailing sack of potatoes. "For Merlin's sake, you are one biscuit away from being turned into a feather duster."
The hippogriff glared at him with the full disdain of a creature who believed deeply in hierarchy and decorum. Theo gave a tired nod of apology, then turned on his heel and marched back to the manor with what remained of his dignity dragging behind him like Lady's stubby legs.
As he climbed the front steps, a burst of laughter floated from inside—light, melodic, and unmistakably feminine. It spilled through the door like music, warm and teasing, and for a brief moment it almost erased the humiliation of having been bested by a twelve-pound gremlin.
Almost.
When he stepped inside, Luna was already there, standing near the entryway with a sparkle in her eyes and her lips twitching with barely suppressed amusement.
"How was the walk?" she asked, her voice as sweet as honey and just as smug.
Theo stared at her, soaked with sweat, slightly scratched, and holding a wriggling ball of sin disguised as a dog. His eye twitched.
"I want it on record," he said slowly, "that I was tricked. Abandoned. Set up for failure."
"You were gone for fifteen minutes," she replied gently.
"I lived an entire lifetime of trauma in that fifteen minutes."
She laughed again, full and bright this time, and reached to take the dog from his arms, only for Lady to promptly lick his cheek as if nothing had happened.
He closed his eyes in defeat and leaned against the doorframe, sighing so heavily it could have extinguished a candle.
The estate's usual tranquility shattered the moment Lady bolted free. The once serene grounds, where fairies had spent the morning drifting lazily on the breeze and nymphs had been lounging contentedly in sun-dappled glades, dissolved into a scene of utter madness as the tiny pug tore through it all like a pint-sized storm with far too much self-confidence. Winged creatures shrieked and scattered, vanishing into the trees or burrowing into the undergrowth in frantic retreat, while the garden gnomes, no strangers to chaos themselves, threw in the towel entirely and dove for cover without a second thought.
Theo followed in her wake, already muttering a storm of curses under his breath as the leash dragged uselessly from his hand. The pug galloped ahead with the deranged energy of something possessed, barking at anything that had the audacity to exist. A sprite zipped too close to the path and barely escaped with its wings intact, letting out a high-pitched squeal as it veered away, and Theo was about to turn around and call it a day when Lady made her most ill-advised move yet.
She spotted the hippogriff.
The massive, dignified creature stood in the clearing near the orchard, its wings folded, its eyes half-lidded in the afternoon haze. It had been enjoying the quiet. Until now.
Lady let out a war cry that could have rivaled a banshee, tore across the grass with all the menace of a charging army, and skidded to a stop just feet away from the startled creature, barking so furiously that her entire body wobbled with each yap.
The hippogriff reared back, feathers flaring and talons scraping against the earth. Its eyes narrowed, and it let out a piercing screech that made Theo's blood run cold.
"Absolutely not," Theo groaned, lunging forward with the speed of a man who had already accepted that death was inevitable but preferred it come without beak wounds. He grabbed the leash just as Lady lunged again, lifting her off the ground in one smooth motion like a wildly flailing sack of potatoes. "For Merlin's sake, you are one biscuit away from being turned into a feather duster."
The hippogriff glared at him with the full disdain of a creature who believed deeply in hierarchy and decorum. Theo gave a tired nod of apology, then turned on his heel and marched back to the manor with what remained of his dignity dragging behind him like Lady's stubby legs.
As he climbed the front steps, a burst of laughter floated from inside—light, melodic, and unmistakably feminine. It spilled through the door like music, warm and teasing, and for a brief moment it almost erased the humiliation of having been bested by a twelve-pound gremlin.
Almost.
When he stepped inside, Luna was already there, standing near the entryway with a sparkle in her eyes and her lips twitching with barely suppressed amusement.
"How was the walk?" she asked, her voice as sweet as honey and just as smug.
Theo stared at her, soaked with sweat, slightly scratched, and holding a wriggling ball of sin disguised as a dog. His eye twitched.
"I want it on record," he said slowly, "that I was tricked. Abandoned. Set up for failure."
"You were gone for fifteen minutes," she replied gently.
"I lived an entire lifetime of trauma in that fifteen minutes."
She laughed again, full and bright this time, and reached to take the dog from his arms, only for Lady to promptly lick his cheek as if nothing had happened.
He closed his eyes in defeat and leaned against the doorframe, sighing so heavily it could have extinguished a candle.
Pansy, lounging beside Luna with a glass of tea in hand, arched a brow and grinned with wicked delight. "Did my precious baby terrorize the hippogriff too?"
Theo collapsed into the nearest chair with all the grace of a man utterly defeated. "The hippogriff looked personally insulted. I think it was genuinely preparing to challenge me to a duel."
The two women erupted into laughter, their earlier conversation abandoned in favor of his dramatic suffering. Luna's laugh—light and musical, like something woven from sunlight and spring—wrapped around him until the corners of his mouth twitched upward in spite of himself. If nothing else, at least he had served a purpose as their entertainment for the afternoon.
The manor, once cloaked in his quiet anxieties and cautious routines, had changed in ways he could not have imagined. Pansy had brought with her a breath of something lighter, something brighter. What had once been a home of hushed footsteps and nervous hovering had transformed into a place where laughter rang through open doors and joy settled comfortably in every room.
Still, his love for Luna remained the constant around which everything else shifted. His habits, though perhaps a touch obsessive, were simply his way of showing devotion. He would have bottled the stars for her if she had asked, would have learned to cook like a French chef just to keep her smiling through a single meal. He needed to know she was cared for, safe, and at peace. Yet, somehow, Pansy had shown him that his love did not need to carry the weight of dread. That his vigilance did not need to come at the expense of levity. That love, in its purest form, could be fierce and gentle at once.
As the days stretched into weeks and the waiting grew heavier, the reality of the baby's arrival began to settle over them like a rising tide. They were no longer just a couple navigating the oddity of fate and Ministry letters. They were a family now, a small constellation of love stitched together by tenderness and trust.
And Theo, with his heart cracked wide open in the best possible way, knew one thing above all else. Luna was surrounded by love—not only his, but Pansy's, and soon, their child's. It filled the walls of their home. It filled him.
And for that, he would carry gratitude with him for the rest of his days.
~~~~~~
A few weeks before the baby was due, Luna and Theo decided to host a quiet dinner at the estate, just the four of them with no ceremony and no fanfare, only the soft hush of a summer evening and the comfort of familiar company. The sun had just begun to dip beneath the horizon, brushing the sky with swaths of gold and coral, the last of the light filtering through the tall windows and bathing the manor in a warm, sleepy glow. Outside, a breeze whispered through the trees, stirring the leaves in a slow, rhythmic rustle that matched the calm in Luna's breathing. Inside, the dining room had been transformed into a gentle haven of flickering candlelight and delicate blooms plucked from the garden, each place at the table set with quiet care. The aroma of dinner, roasted vegetables and warm bread and herbs still earthy from the soil, wove through the air like a spell cast for comfort.
When Pansy and Neville arrived, they were met with open arms and the scent of lavender still lingering from Luna's apron. She stood in the doorway with her hair falling like liquid silver over her shoulders, her hand resting instinctively against the gentle swell of her belly. She welcomed them in with her usual grace, her presence more moonlight than flesh, and Theo followed close behind, his expression softening as he offered them each a handshake that turned easily into a hug. He looked as though he had been holding his breath all day and could finally exhale.
They drifted into the dining room as though they had been here a thousand times before. Coats were shrugged off, shoes toed quietly by the door, laughter blooming even before the first course was served. Neville produced a bottle of wine with a flourish, though he sheepishly apologized for bringing alcohol when Luna could not partake. Pansy rolled her eyes and handed over a wrapped tin of hand-charmed lemon biscuits instead, declaring it a peace offering in case the wine was poorly received.
Dinner began with shared stories, voices overlapping in that gentle, chaotic way that only true friendship allows. They spoke of Hogwarts, of old pranks and awkward dances, of teachers they once feared and now remembered with reluctant affection. Neville launched into an animated retelling of his recent experiments in the greenhouse, explaining with wide eyes and waving hands how he had managed to cross-pollinate two notoriously stubborn plants into something not only beautiful, but potentially healing. He said it glowed faintly at night, and if you hummed to it, he swore it hummed back.
Then something in the air shifted, subtle but unmistakable. Luna's voice grew quieter, more delicate, as her expression softened with meaning. She turned to Pansy with a look that shimmered with emotion, her fingers resting gently on the edge of her teacup.
"Pansy," she said, her voice barely above a whisper but clear as starlight, "Theo and I have been talking, and we would be so honored if you and Neville would be our child's godparents."
For a moment, there was only silence. Pansy's eyes flew wide, her hand flying to her mouth as if trying to catch the breath that had just escaped her. She looked to Neville, who mirrored her astonishment with a quiet awe in his expression, then turned back to Luna and Theo, her voice trembling with emotion.
"Oh, Luna, Theo," she said, blinking too fast to hide the tears gathering in her eyes. "We would be absolutely honored. Truly. I don't even have words."
Neville reached over to take her hand and squeezed it gently before turning to Theo and Luna with a steady smile. "We'd be thrilled," he said. "It means more than you know that you would trust us with something so important."
Theo leaned forward, his eyes fixed on them with quiet sincerity, his words careful and heartfelt. "You've always stood by us. We can't think of anyone better to help guide our child. You're family, in every way that matters."
Luna nodded slowly, her expression glowing with joy and calm certainty. "You've given us so much love. We know our baby will be lucky to have you."
Pansy reached across the table without hesitation, her fingers wrapping around Luna's in a firm, tender grasp. "Thank you," she said, her voice thick with feeling. "We'll be there. For everything. Whatever this child needs, they'll have it. I swear."
It felt like a vow, quiet and sacred. Not spoken with pomp or ceremony, but with the full weight of their love and friendship behind it.
Laughter followed, as if emotion needed to spill into joy to make room for everything they were feeling. Pansy made a joke about the child inheriting Luna's dreamy otherworldliness and promptly floating off into the ether. Neville insisted the baby would be grounded, practical, and would probably start organizing the pantry by magical herb categories before their first birthday. Theo chimed in with a rare smirk, declaring that if the child inherited even half of Luna's courage and Neville's heart, they would be unstoppable.
Later, as the evening wore on and the candles burned low, Theo raised his glass. The room stilled for a beat, the soft clink of glass on glass echoing through the space like a quiet benediction.
"To family," he said. "To friendship. And to beginnings."
The toast lingered in the air as they drank, not in silence but in something gentler. Something closer to peace.
They stayed long after the food had grown cold and the tea had lost its warmth, wrapped in the kind of conversation that meanders and softens and deepens over time. The kind of night that settles into your bones and stays there.
Outside, the stars blinked quietly against the dark sky, bearing witness to the promises made and the love that held them all together. And as they laughed softly into the night, they each knew without needing to say it that they were no longer just friends. They were something closer to kin. A chosen family, built not from blood, but from trust and time and the kind of love that endures.
~~~~~~
Theo knew it was not going to be easy. Asking Blaise Zabini to be a godfather was not like asking anyone else. Blaise had always been the type to sidestep emotions with a smirk, to replace depth with charm, and to swat away sincerity like it was a bothersome fly. But Theo also knew that beneath all that silk and sarcasm lived a heart as loyal and fierce as they came, and that was exactly why this mattered.
So, he planned it the only way he knew how. No awkward midday talks. No letters. No public fuss. Just a quiet dinner at the manor, where the lighting was warm and the wine was good and the people gathered around the table were the only ones who really mattered. Luna prepared the meal with her usual grace, her laughter dancing like windchimes in the air as she moved between kitchen and table, and Ginny arrived with a bottle of wine and a kiss on Blaise's cheek that made him grin and roll his eyes like he wasn't secretly delighted.
Dinner passed in the way it often did between them—easy conversation, inside jokes, Ginny poking fun at Blaise's culinary ignorance, Blaise pretending to be offended, Luna softly steering the conversation to the stars, and Theo sitting quietly, watching the people he loved gather closer with every passing hour.
When the plates were cleared and the fire had burned low, they moved into the sitting room. The room glowed gold in the hearthlight, and Theo knew it was time.
He glanced at Luna. She nodded once, gently, and he cleared his throat.
"Blaise," he said, his voice steady but stripped of pretense. "We've been talking a lot about the future. About what kind of people we want around our child. The kind of people we trust."
Blaise raised an eyebrow, his glass of Firewhisky paused halfway to his lips, a flicker of something curious in his gaze.
"And," Theo continued, his tone quieter now, "we would be honored if you would consider being our child's godfather."
The words hung in the air. Not heavy, not dramatic, but true. Honest.
Blaise didn't speak at first. His usual smirk faltered, replaced by something rare and vulnerable. He looked over at Ginny, who gave him a soft smile that said she already knew what Theo was going to ask. Then he turned back to Theo, his eyes wide in a way that almost made him look younger.
"You're serious?" he asked, but his voice had changed. No bravado. No cleverness. Just a raw, uncertain note that Theo had only heard once or twice before.
"Completely," Luna said. She folded her hands in her lap, her expression as serene as the moon. "You've always been part of our lives. We can't imagine doing this without you."
Blaise blinked, as if trying to stop the moment from cracking open something deep inside him. He looked down at his drink, then back up again.
"I mean," he said slowly, the corner of his mouth twitching like he couldn't quite decide whether to joke or cry, "I suppose I can clear a bit of space in my outrageously glamorous schedule for a child."
His voice was light, but his eyes were glassy. He blinked again. Once. Twice. Then a third time, slower, and still the tears threatened to betray him.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake," he muttered, turning away slightly as he swiped at the corner of his eye with his sleeve. "This is terribly undignified."
Ginny leaned into his side with a quiet laugh, resting her head on his shoulder. "You'll be brilliant," she whispered.
"I know," he said, voice still thick. "But now they've gone and made me emotional, and I'll never forgive them."
Theo raised his glass in salute, a rare, open smile blooming across his face. "We'll take our chances."
Blaise sniffed dramatically. "If this baby inherits your social skills, Theo, I'm enrolling them in etiquette lessons immediately."
Luna giggled, and Ginny elbowed him playfully, and just like that, the tension eased, and the love returned to laughter. But for the rest of the night, Blaise never once let go of Ginny's hand. And when he thought no one was looking, his eyes drifted toward Luna's belly with a kind of wonder that even he didn't bother to hide anymore.
Big scary boy was absolutely shedding tears.
Ginny reached over and squeezed his hand, her smile filled with affection. "You'll be perfect, amore."
Theo, sensing the moment's significance, simply nodded. "I…Thank you, Blaise. It means a lot to us."
As the evening wound down, they sat together, the bonds of friendship strengthened by the promise of a new beginning. And for a brief moment, Blaise allowed himself to feel the depth of emotion, grateful for the honor bestowed upon him.
~~~~~~
As the final weeks of her pregnancy unfolded, discomfort settled into her body like an unwelcome guest. The effortless grace she had always carried was now replaced with slow, deliberate movements, each step measured and careful. Her smiles, though still warm and filled with that ethereal glow, were edged with exhaustion. And Theo—already prone to intense devotion—had become more attentive, more possessive, more everywhere.
He was relentless in his care, hovering so closely that he seemed like an extension of her shadow. His hands found her belly as if drawn by an invisible force, his fingers tracing soothing patterns across the stretched skin. He would rest his forehead against her, whispering soft reassurances and weaving stories into her womb, speaking to their child as though they were already a part of their every conversation. Each flutter, each kick, each tiny shift beneath his palm sent awe spiraling through him, a quiet reverence lighting up his face.
"Theo, I'm fine," she'd tell him gently, her voice laced with fond exasperation. "You don't have to worry so much."
But fine wasn't good enough for him. Not when she was carrying something so precious. Not when she was so precious.
"I know, love," he'd murmur, though his actions never reflected acceptance of her words. His watchful gaze rarely strayed from her, as if by sheer will he could shield her from discomfort, from strain, from the weight of what was to come. "But I can't help it. I need to make sure you and the baby are safe."
She would smile then, the kind of soft, knowing smile that undid him completely. And when she placed her hand over his, their fingers weaving together atop the gentle swell of their unborn child, something inside him settled.
"We are," she'd whisper, a quiet promise between them.
And for a fleeting moment, the world beyond their home ceased to exist—no past, no uncertainty, no looming future. Just the three of them, bound together in a cocoon of love, anticipation, and the quiet, steadfast certainty that wherever they went from here, they would go together.
~~~~~~
The door creaked open, and she stepped in, ethereal as ever. The glow of candlelight flickered over the room, casting long, golden shadows across the carefully arranged flowers, their petals scattered like poetry across the bed. The air was thick with warmth, a quiet hum of anticipation woven into every detail.
Her eyes swept over the scene, a slow smile curving her lips. "What's all this, my love?"
Theo turned, his gaze drinking her in, as though he could imprint the sight of her onto his soul. "It's for you," he murmured, his voice hushed with reverence. "Because you deserve to be worshipped."
She stepped closer, the air between them charged, pulling them together like magnets. "And how do you plan to worship me, my Sun?" she teased, though her voice wavered with the same heat that simmered in his gaze.
His hand reached out, fingertips tracing along her jaw before tilting her chin up to meet his. "With my hands," he whispered, letting his fingers drift down her throat, over the curve of her shoulder. "With my lips." He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "With my cock."
A shiver ran through her, her breath hitching as she held his gaze. "Confident, aren't you?"
He smirked, brushing his lips over the shell of her ear. "With you? Always." His hands ghosted down her arms, fingers lacing with hers. "But I promise, love, I'll make it worth your while."
Her eyes gleamed with challenge. "Then you'll have to work for it, my Sun."
He grinned, sweeping her into his arms before she could protest. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
Their mouths met in a searing kiss, tongues tangling, bodies pressed flush against each other. She felt the hardness of him against her stomach, and a soft moan escaped her lips.
"Your eyes," he murmured against her mouth, his hands gripping her waist.
She arched against him, pressing a kiss to the sharp edge of his jaw. "And your hands," she whispered, guiding them to the curve of her hips. "An artist's hands. I wonder what they could do."
His gaze darkened, his voice dipping into a husky whisper. "Would you like to find out?"
She nodded, her heart hammering. "Yes."
With deliberate slowness, he trailed his fingers down the front of her dress, his touch featherlight, teasing. "You're beautiful, my moon," he breathed, tracing the fabric along her curves. "I want to paint you—with my hands, my mouth, my cock."
She gasped at his words, her nipples pebbling beneath the thin silk. "Theo… you're shameless."
"Only with you," he growled, capturing her mouth in another deep kiss. His hands roamed freely now, cupping her breasts, squeezing her ass, pulling her against him like he could press her into himself.
"Fuck, sugar," he groaned against her lips. "I need you. Now."
He lifted her effortlessly, carrying her toward the bed, laying her down with care despite the heat racing through his veins. He hovered over her, his eyes smoldering. "Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you."
She reached up, brushing her fingers through his dark hair. "I want you to make love to me," she whispered, her voice dripping with desire. "I want you to make me come."
His lips curled into a wicked smile. "As you wish."
He started slow, his kisses trailing down her body like brushstrokes, painting her in worship. He kissed along her thighs, his hands massaging, kneading, until she writhed beneath him, desperate for more. When he reached the damp fabric of her knickers, he smirked against her skin.
"Already wet for me, sugar?" His voice was dark, teasing.
"Yes," she gasped, her hands fisting the sheets.
With torturous patience, he dragged her panties down, baring her to him. He pressed a reverent kiss to her inner thigh before lowering his mouth to her. The first stroke of his tongue sent a sharp moan through her, her back arching off the bed.
"Theo," she whimpered, her hands tangling in his hair.
He groaned at the way she reacted to him, the way her body yielded, trembled. "You taste so fucking good," he murmured against her, before licking a long, slow stripe through her folds.
She cried out, her legs trembling as he feasted on her, his tongue circling, flicking, teasing. His fingers slid into her, curling, seeking, finding that spot that made her toes curl.
"Yes, oh gods, yes," she gasped, her hips rolling against his mouth.
"Come for me," he murmured against her clit, before sucking it between his lips.
Her body tensed, her cries breaking into breathless gasps as she shattered beneath his touch, waves of pleasure rippling through her.
When he pulled away, his lips were slick with her, his gaze heavy-lidded with hunger. "You're perfect, my beautiful pregnant angel," he murmured, licking his lips.
She barely had time to recover before she was tugging him up, her fingers working at the buttons of his shirt with desperate urgency. "Fuck me, Theo. Please."
His shirt hit the floor, followed by the rest of his clothes, his cock standing thick and ready between them. He crawled over her, caging her beneath him.
"Now, Sunny," she urged, her voice breathless.
He lined himself up, pressing the head of his cock against her slick entrance. Their eyes met, locked, as he pushed inside, filling her inch by inch.
They moaned in unison, her body stretching to accommodate him.
"Fuck," he groaned, resting his forehead against hers. "You feel so good—better every time."
"Harder, Theo," she demanded, her nails digging into his back. "Fuck me harder."
He obeyed, his hips snapping against hers, driving into her with deep, unrelenting thrusts. The room filled with the sound of their bodies meeting, the mingling of moans and gasps.
Her climax built quickly, the pleasure so intense it left her gasping. "Oh, Theo—I'm coming, I'm coming again—"
His fingers found her clit, rubbing, circling, pushing her over the edge. She screamed his name, her body clenching around him, pulling him with her. With a shuddering groan, he followed, his cock pulsing as he spilled inside her.
They collapsed together, bodies damp with sweat, limbs tangled. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in.
"That was..." she murmured, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest.
He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. "We've only just begun, my love." He leaned back, his eyes smoldering. "I want to paint you in every color, in every sensation. I want to make you come until you forget your own name."
She laughed, her eyes dark with promise. "I can't wait."