My little love

Fatherhood settled over him like it had always been meant for him. The transformation was seamless—where once he had been a fierce protector, a devoted husband, now he was something more. Something deeper. He had become a man entirely consumed by love for the tiny, perfect boy they had brought into the world.

Every whimper, every soft sigh from their son was enough to have him moving before Luna could even stir. Sleep-deprived and running on sheer instinct, he anticipated their child's needs with the kind of precision usually reserved for battle. The man who once navigated the treacherous world of assassinations and politics now stood in the dim glow of the nursery at three in the morning, gently swaying with a fussing infant in his arms, whispering nonsense lullabies like they were the most sacred incantations he'd ever uttered.

Luna often found herself watching him, completely enamored by the sight of her husband transformed. His large, capable hands—hands that had once held wands and weapons with lethal precision—now cradled their child with an unimaginable tenderness. The careful way he buttoned impossibly tiny onesies, the way he traced delicate fingers over their son's soft cheeks, the reverence in his gaze as if he still couldn't believe this tiny life belonged to them—it made her fall in love with him all over again, in a way she never expected was possible.

One evening, after an exhausting day filled with feedings, soothing cries, and stolen moments of rest, she stepped into their bedroom and was met with a sight that made her heart lurch.

Theo lay sprawled on the bed, their son curled against his bare chest, the soft rise and fall of their breathing perfectly synchronized. The baby's small hand rested near his father's heart, his tiny fingers curling and uncurling as if seeking the familiar warmth he had come to recognize. The usually tense, battle-worn lines of Theo's face had softened in sleep, his expression completely at peace in a way Luna had rarely seen before. The moonlight spilled in through the window, casting a silver glow over them, illuminating the quiet love that filled the room.

She stood in the doorway for a long time, unwilling to disturb the moment, her heart swelling with a love so fierce it nearly brought tears to her eyes. The sight before her was a reminder of everything they had fought for, everything they had endured to get to this point. A life of bloodshed and shadows had led them here—to this little boy, to the kind of love that changed a person from the inside out.

Moving carefully, she crossed the room and reached for the blanket at the foot of the bed, tucking it gently around them. Her fingers brushed against Theo's arm, and even in his sleep, he shifted, pulling their son closer with a quiet sigh.

Luna perched on the edge of the bed, watching them in silent reverence. It was in these moments—the stillness, the raw beauty of it all—that she felt the weight of their journey most profoundly. They had survived everything meant to destroy them, and now they were here, creating something pure, something untouched by the darkness of their pasts.

She reached out, lacing her fingers with Theo's, letting the warmth of his skin seep into hers. He stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open just enough to see her, his lips curving into the smallest, sleep-laden smile.

"You're staring," he murmured, voice thick with exhaustion.

She smiled, running her thumb over his knuckles. "You're beautiful."

His eyes flickered with amusement, but he was too tired to argue. He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze, glancing down at their son before letting his eyes slip closed again. "So are you," he whispered.

The weight of the day pressed against her, but in this moment, there was only warmth, only love. She shifted closer, laying her head beside Theo's on the pillow, their hands still intertwined as they watched over their son together.

Their life wasn't perfect—it never had been, and it never would be. The nights were long, sometimes filled with exhaustion and frustration, and the days were equally demanding. But as long as they had this— as long as they had each other —she knew they would be just fine.

This was their world now. A world filled with midnight lullabies, whispered promises, and the quiet, undeniable magic of a love that had only grown stronger with time.

And as she lay beside the two loves of her life, wrapped in the cocoon of their warmth, she realized something with certainty— this was everything she had ever wanted.

~~~~~~

Luna sat by the window, the gentle patter of rain against the glass mirroring the silent sobs that wracked her frail frame. The once vibrant sparkle in her eyes had dulled, replaced by the hollow ache of a grief that never truly faded, only hid in the quiet moments before creeping back in. She had spent years learning how to carry her loss, how to smile through the ache, but now—now that she held her own child in her arms—she felt as if she were drowning in it all over again.

The arrival of their son had been the most profound joy she had ever known, a love so consuming it left her breathless. But with that joy came an unbearable ache, a longing so deep it felt like a physical wound. Every soft coo, every sleepy sigh, every tiny hand curling around her finger sent a fresh wave of sorrow crashing over her. She should have been able to share this— should have had her mother's voice to guide her, her hands to hold her, her love to surround her like a warm embrace. Instead, there was only silence where her mother should have been.

The weight of it pressed down on her, suffocating in its relentlessness. She felt like a child herself, lost in the dark, reaching for a hand that would never be there to catch her. She wanted so badly to hear her mother's voice just once, to have her tell her she was doing well, that she was enough. But all she had were memories, and even those felt faded, slipping through her fingers like grains of sand.

He noticed immediately. He always did. The way she lingered in the nursery, rocking their son long after he had fallen asleep, as if the stillness of the night would bring her the comfort she sought. The way her shoulders curled inward, as if trying to shield herself from a pain too great to bear. The way her laughter—so bright, so full of life—had dimmed into nothing more than echoes of what it once was.

It broke him to see her like this, to watch the love of his life—the mother of his child—drowning in a sorrow he couldn't touch. He tried to reach her, to remind her that she wasn't alone, but no matter how tightly he held her, he knew there were parts of her grief he would never be able to take away.

Desperate to help, he turned to Pansy and Neville, hoping that the presence of those who loved her might ease the emptiness in her heart. He arranged quiet afternoons filled with tea and soft conversation, moments of warmth in the hope that they might bring her even a sliver of peace. And for a time, it seemed to help—her smiles came a little easier, her silences a little shorter. But he could still see it, that shadow lurking in the depths of her eyes, the unbearable absence that no amount of love could fill.

One evening, he found her sitting by the window again, staring out into the rain with a look so lost it made his chest tighten. He stepped closer, his hands gentle as they wrapped around her, drawing her against his warmth. He pressed his lips to her temple, his breath warm against her skin. "Tell me, my love," he whispered, his voice raw with tenderness. "What's hurting you? Let me share the weight of it."

She turned to him, her blue eyes shimmering, the dam she had tried so hard to hold back finally breaking. "I just miss her," she whispered, her voice cracking as the first tear slipped down her cheek. "I just— I just miss her so much. " Her breath hitched as she clutched his shirt, the sobs she had tried to suppress spilling free. "She should be here. She should see him. She should tell me that I'm doing okay. "

His own throat tightened as he held her closer, his grip fierce, as if he could keep her from unraveling completely. "Oh, my love," he murmured, his voice breaking with the weight of her sorrow. "You are more than okay. You are incredible. " He pulled back just enough to cup her face, his thumbs wiping away the tears that wouldn't stop falling. "And if she were here, she would be so, so proud of you."

Her sobs only grew louder, as if his words cracked something even deeper inside her. "It's just so hard," she gasped. "I thought—I thought I had learned how to live without her, but now… now I feel like I'm losing her all over again."

He kissed her forehead, his own eyes burning. "I know, my love. I know," he whispered, feeling as helpless as he had ever felt. "But you haven't lost her. She's in you, in everything you do. She's in your kindness, in your laughter, in the way you hold our son. She's in you , and through you, she will always be here."

She shook her head, gripping onto him like he was the only thing keeping her afloat. "But it's not the same," she wept. "I want her ."

He had no answer for that—no words to mend the irreparable wound of a mother lost too soon. So he just held her, letting her sob against his chest, letting her break where she knew she was safe. He held her the way she held their son, the way he wished he could hold all the broken pieces of her heart and make them whole again.

"I'm here," he whispered, his voice fierce with love, his lips pressing against her hair. "I'm here, and I will never leave you. We'll get through this together."

And as she wept in his arms, she let herself believe it—if only for a little while.

His voice was gentle, laced with the careful patience of someone who knew that memories could be both a balm and a blade. "Can you tell me what happened to your mother?"

She inhaled deeply, her fingers tightening in her lap as if bracing herself against the weight of the past. Her eyes, shimmering with the pain she rarely let surface, locked onto his. "She was always so curious, so fearless," she murmured, a small, wistful smile flickering across her lips before sorrow overtook it. "She loved experimenting with magic, always pushing the boundaries, always searching for more."

Her breath hitched slightly, and he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, his presence grounding her. "One day, she tried something new. A spell she hadn't fully tested," she continued, her voice quieter now, haunted. "It backfired before she had a chance to correct it. She was just... gone. In an instant. No time for goodbyes, no chance to fix it."

She blinked rapidly, willing herself not to cry, but he could see the way her grief curled around her, a shadow she had carried for too long. Without a word, he pulled her closer, pressing a lingering kiss to her temple, as if he could somehow shield her from the ache.

"You still have her," he murmured against her hair. "In you. In everything you do."

She exhaled shakily, nodding, but he knew loss like this never truly healed—it simply became a part of you, woven into the very fabric of your being.

After a long silence, she turned to him, her voice soft, careful. "My Sun... what about your mother?"

His entire body tensed for a moment, and she saw it—the way grief still lived inside him, raw and untamed, no matter how many years had passed. He hesitated, the weight of her question settling between them like a tangible thing. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, steady, but there was something hollow beneath it.

"She turned into an angel." The words were simple, almost gentle, but the grief behind them was anything but. Then, with a quiet, restrained fury, he added, "My father killed her."

The starkness of his admission hung in the air, sharp and cold, a wound reopened. She felt her own breath hitch, her heart aching for him in ways words could never express.

Slowly, she reached for his hand, her fingers threading through his, offering warmth, offering understanding. She didn't speak right away—there were no perfect words for something like this. Instead, she let the silence sit between them, filled only with the quiet hum of their shared sorrow.

When she finally did speak, her voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm so sorry, my love."

He closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling deeply, as if trying to let go of a pain that would never truly leave. Then, turning his hand over, he gripped hers tightly, as if anchoring himself to her, to the life they had built together.

"You're here," she whispered, lifting his hand to her lips, pressing a soft kiss against his knuckles. "And you are nothing like him."

His throat tightened, his free hand coming up to cradle her cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear she hadn't even realized had fallen. He knew she meant every word. And for the first time in a long, long while, the ghosts of the past felt a little less heavy.

Slowly, over time, Luna began to heal. With Theo's unwavering support and the love of their friends, she found moments of peace amidst the sorrow. She started to talk about her mother, sharing stories with her son about the grandmother he would never meet. Each memory became a tribute, a way to keep her mother's spirit alive in their lives.

As the days turned into weeks, her laughter began to return, a soft, hopeful sound that brought joy to their home. She still missed her mother deeply, but she was learning to live with the loss, to find strength in the love that surrounded her.

Together, they faced the challenges of parenthood, their bond stronger than ever. And as they watched their son grow, they knew that the love of a mother, even one who was gone, could never truly fade away.

~~~~~~

Today was a big day; Theo and Luna were hosting a baby shower for their baby boy, so all their friends could officially meet him. 

Forest-coloured banners, adorned with glittering silver creatures that resembled Nifflers, hung from the rafters. Balloons, in shades of emerald and gold, bobbed playfully in the gentle breeze that drifted through the open windows. 

The house was filled with decorations and the aroma of her favorite flowers, a blend of soft forest and a hint of magic that only she could conjure. Every detail spoke of the love and care poured into the celebration.

As the guests began to arrive, the house filled with laughter and the gentle hum of conversation. Luna, holding Lysander, greeted each friend with a warm smile, introducing her son to the people who had become her family. Theo, ever the doting father, hovered close by, proudly showing off his son's tiny fingers and bright eyes to anyone who asked.

Pansy arrived with Neville in tow, carrying their own happy child. Lady Lemongrass, wearing a bow that matched Pansy's stylish outfit, trotted in eagerly, sniffing around the unfamiliar surroundings. Neville followed, his hands occupied with a beautifully wrapped gift, while Pansy held a basket of homemade treats, courtesy of Neville's baking skills.

As they stepped inside, she greeted them with a warm smile, Lysander nestled comfortably in her arms. "Pansy, Neville, so good to see you again. Come in, come in."

Pansy beamed, letting the pug roam free to explore the room. "Luna, you look radiant. How's my little godson doing today?"

Neville placed the gift on a nearby table and approached Luna, a gentle smile on his face. "He looks so peaceful. I think he's used to all the attention by now."

Theo joined them, a playful smirk on his face as the pug sniffed at his shoes. "I see you brought the annoying one, Pansy. It's good to have everyone here."

Pansy shrugged, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Well, we couldn't leave him at home. Besides, she's here to help Lysander get used to having a pet around."

Fucking perfect. Now they needed to buy another ugly creature. Wonderful. Because clearly, one was not enough. Apparently, having a tiny, screaming human who already dictated the entire household wasn't challenging enough—they just had to introduce a four-legged menace into the equation.

As the friends settled into the living room, the pug curled up contentedly at her feet, and the atmosphere was filled with warmth and laughter. The baby shower was a celebration of friendship and family, the perfect opportunity for everyone to share in the joy of welcoming Lysander into the world.. 

Ginny and Blaise arrived next, the sound of their laughter preceding them as they entered the room. Ginny, carrying a soft blanket for the baby, immediately gravitated toward Luna and Lysander, her eyes lighting up as she took in the sight of the newborn.

" Oh, Luna, he's perfect," Ginny cooed, her voice soft as she gently ran a finger over Lysander's cheek. "He's absolutely precious."

She smiled, the happiness of the moment reflected in her eyes. "Thank you, Ginny. It means so much to have you here."

Meanwhile, Blaise approached Theo with a broad grin, giving him a hearty pat on the back. "Congratulations, mate," he said, his tone filled with genuine happiness. "This is a big step, and I couldn't be happier for you."

He chuckled, appreciating the sentiment. "Thanks, Blaise. It's a bit overwhelming, but I'm glad you're all here to share this with us."

Blaise nodded, his eyes flicking over to Lysander and Ginny. "He's going to grow up surrounded by people who love him. That's all you can hope for, really."

Hermione and Draco arrived last, their footsteps echoing softly on the wooden floor as they entered the warmly lit living room. Laughter and a welcoming glow beckoned them forward, creating an inviting atmosphere. Luna, ethereal in a flowing white dress that shimmered in the afternoon sunlight, stood waiting by the door. Her ever-present smile widened as she spotted them, her blonde hair cascading down in a halo of gentle curls. "Mimi!" Draco!" she exclaimed, her voice a melody of pure joy. "So glad you could make it!"

Draco, his usual stoicism melting away at her infectious enthusiasm, offered a polite nod. "Thank you, Luna," he said, his voice a low rumble. "We wouldn't miss it for the world. Congratulations again." He turned to Theo, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, and extended a hand in greeting. "Theo."

His grin widened, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Draco! About time you showed up. We were starting to think you two got lost in the maze." He grasped Draco's handshake firmly, the warmth of their camaraderie evident despite the years that had passed. "Thanks, mate. We're truly happy you could both make it. Come on in, the party's waiting!"

Luna, ever the gracious hostess, led them towards a cozy corner where a small group had gathered. Seated on a plush armchair was Neville, his face lit with radiant joy as he cradled a sleeping baby in his arms.

Nestled in a miniature, hand-stitched crib, the tiny form of Lysander seemed peacefully oblivious to the excitement surrounding him. As they approached, Neville looked up, his smile widening as he recognized them.

"Hermione, Draco! So glad you could make it," he exclaimed, his voice brimming with excitement. His gaze then shifted to the bundle in his arms. "This little one here seems to be saving all his energy for the real celebrations."

Even in slumber, a faint resemblance to both Luna and Theo was evident. He possessed her delicate features and the wispy blonde hair, but the smattering of freckles dusting his nose was a clear nod to his heritage. A chorus of soft coos and hushed whispers filled the air as the group fawned over the sleeping child.

"Isn't he just perfect?" Pansy said warmly, nodding towards the sleeping baby.

"He really is," Hermione agreed softly, her heart melting at the sight of the tiny baby. "Congratulations, Luna and to you too, Theo."

"Thank you," she replied, her smile radiant. "He's brought so much light into our lives." 

The room hummed with warmth and affection, the gathering of friends encapsulating the joy of new beginnings and the steadfast bonds of their relationships.

~~~~~~~

They had an amazing lunch together as friends, gathering around a beautifully set table on the veranda, overlooking the lush garden. The late autumn sun cast a gentle glow over the gathering, creating a serene and intimate setting.

The table was adorned with an array of colorful dishes, showcasing a mix of Luna's unique, whimsical tastes and Theo's more traditional fare. There were fresh salads with edible flowers, a hearty stew, delicate pastries, and an assortment of cheeses and fruits. Each dish was a testament to the couple's love for their friends and their joy in sharing this special occasion.

As they settled in, the conversation flowed effortlessly. Hermione and Pansy chatted about their latest projects, Pansy's eyes lighting up as she animatedly described her latest art endeavor. Neville and Draco exchanged stories about their recent botanical discoveries, with Draco surprising everyone with his newfound interest in rare magical plants.

Ginny and Blaise entertained the group with tales of their latest escapades, their laughter infectious and their camaraderie evident. Theo, ever the attentive host, made sure everyone had their fill, his eyes often drifting towards Luna and Lysander, his heart full of contentment.

Luna, her face aglow with happiness, listened intently to her friends, occasionally offering her own quirky insights that left everyone in stitches. The gentle breeze carried the sound of their laughter across the gardens, the afternoon sun dappling the scene with warmth and light.

His worst nightmare materialized right before his eyes—Lady had breached the crib.

The tiny four-legged menace had somehow hoisted her absurdly round body up and into his son's sleeping sanctuary, curling up next to Lysander like she belonged there.

"BEAST!" his voice sliced through the peaceful atmosphere like a battle cry, his entire body going rigid with horror. "GET OFF IMMEDIATELY!"

Lady, completely unbothered, barely cracked open an eye. Then, the audacity—she exhaled a dramatic sigh and snuggled in even closer to Lysander, as if to prove a point.

Bombastic. Side-eye.

Theo's left eye twitched. His first instinct was to exorcise the creature from the crib immediately, but just as he reached forward, a delicate hand wrapped around his wrist.

"My love," she whispered, her voice laced with amusement, "look."

He looked.

And damn it all, the sight was almost… touching?

Lady, the enemy, the usurper, the destroyer of expensive shoes, was curled protectively around their son, her tiny body radiating warmth and unwavering loyalty. Lysander, oblivious to the sheer disrespect happening in his crib, sighed in his sleep and nestled into her soft fur.

It was sickeningly adorable.

Still, he had to stay strong.

"She's—she's contaminating him," he stammered weakly, but the betrayal in his own voice was evident. "This is unnatural. Babies don't need… dogs."

"She loves him," she said simply, and worse—she was smiling, fully smiling, as if this wasn't the absolute worst thing that had ever happened to their household.

He inhaled deeply, willing himself to let it go, and turned on his heel. Fine. If his stubborn, disloyal wife wanted to let a tiny goblin with breathing problems imprint on his son, so be it.

But that didn't mean he had to like it.

Still brooding, he stormed off to the garden, where Pansy was sipping wine and enjoying the sunshine, completely oblivious to the domestic terror unfolding inside.

"Parkinson." He practically spat her name.

She glanced up lazily. "Yes, darling?"

"Your—your creature is disturbing my son," he seethed, throwing a dramatic hand in the direction of the house. "Make her stop snoring."

Pansy's lips twitched, her expression the picture of delightful amusement. "What's got your knickers in a twist, Theodore? Afraid she'll be his first best friend?"

Theo narrowed his eyes. "I do not accept this fate. I reject it."

"She's growing on you, isn't she?" Pansy teased, her grin widening.

"She is not."

"Oh, Theo," she sighed, patting his arm. "You should just accept it. First comes a pug, next thing you know, you're rescuing an entire litter and naming them after Quidditch players."

"I will throw myself into the Thames," he declared dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Mark my words."

As if summoned by his suffering, Lady Lemongrass suddenly waddled into the garden, snorting aggressively, her squashed little face lighting up the moment she saw him.

"Oh, hell no," Theo muttered, immediately backing away like she was a cursed artifact.

"She loves you," Pansy sing-songed.

"Then she should learn to love from a distance."

Luna appeared in the doorway, Lysander now stirring in her arms. "My love," she called sweetly. "Lady Lemongrass just protected our son from a scary, dangerous nightmare. Isn't that just the sweetest thing?"

Theo squinted suspiciously.

A pug. Fighting nightmares. This was his reality now. Fucking. Perfect.

~~~~~~

Theo led Draco away from the lively garden gathering, weaving through the chatter and the scent of summer blooms until they reached a secluded corner of the estate. The sounds of laughter and clinking glasses grew distant, swallowed by the dense hedges surrounding them. Here, away from the distractions of their friends, the air felt heavier, thick with the unspoken tension lingering between them.

Draco leaned against a stone wall, his posture deceptively relaxed, though the set of his jaw and the restless flick of his fingers against his forearm betrayed his unease. He already knew what was coming.

Theo exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders before cutting straight to the point. "Mate, how's Hermione doing?" His voice was low, laced with genuine concern, his gaze locked onto Draco's face, searching for the truth beneath the carefully constructed exterior.

Draco sighed, dragging a hand through his platinum hair, mussing it in a way that spoke of stress rather than effortlessness. His usually pristine composure was fraying at the edges, exhaustion creeping into the fine lines around his eyes. "She's better," he admitted, but his voice lacked conviction. "Stable, at least. And mentally… I think she's okay."

Theo didn't miss the hesitation—the way Draco's fingers tensed slightly as if clenching an invisible thread that could snap at any moment.

"I measure everything, you know?" Draco continued, his tone deliberately neutral, but there was something tight and controlled about it. "Every potion, every pill, every bloody teaspoon of her medicine. I double-check every number, every dose, because if I don't…" His voice trailed off, and he took a slow breath before shaking his head.

Theo raised an eyebrow. "So you don't trust her?" The question was gentle, but it cut through the space between them like a blade.

Draco's expression darkened, his gray eyes flashing with something unreadable. "It's not that," he muttered, but then he hesitated, the lie unraveling before he could fully commit to it. He looked away, inhaling sharply, as if admitting the truth would make it more real. "Merlin, Theo. She almost died. She almost left." His voice cracked at the edges, raw and unguarded. "And I—I can't pretend that doesn't terrify me."

Theo remained silent, letting Draco find his own words, his own confessions.

"I watch her sleep," he continued, his voice quieter now, almost ashamed. "I check her breathing at night. I wake up and count how many times she's turned over, just to make sure she's still here. I tell myself I'm not being irrational, that it's just precaution, but… the truth is, I don't know how to stop." He clenched his jaw, swallowing hard. "I can't lose her. I won't lose her."

He watched his best friend with quiet understanding. He had known Draco a long time, long enough to recognize when he was slipping, when the weight of his emotions threatened to pull him under. Theo placed a firm hand on his shoulder, grounding him. "I see it, mate. The way you look at her. The fear." His voice softened. "But also the love. And that love is what's keeping her here. Not the counting, not the measuring. You."

Draco let out a sharp breath, his composure splintering for the briefest moment. He scrubbed a hand over his face, as if trying to wipe away the vulnerability before it fully settled in his features. "I love her, Theo. You know that, don't you? She's—she's my entire fucking world." His voice wavered, but he didn't care. Not here. Not with Theo. "She's the reason I breathe."

He squeezed Draco's shoulder one last time, letting the weight of his words settle between them. There was nothing left to say—no reassurance that would ease the fear of almost losing someone you loved more than life itself. But maybe, just maybe, standing here, admitting it, feeling it, was enough.

Theo, ever the opportunist when it came to teasing his best mate, decided it was time to lighten the mood. He crossed his arms and smirked, his voice dripping with exaggerated mischief. "So, the boss is in love, eh?" he drawled, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, as if he had just uncovered the world's juiciest bit of gossip.

Draco's reaction was immediate and entirely predictable. His gray eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, his signature Malfoy scowl making an appearance. "Immediately stop it, Theodore," he snapped, his tone carrying all the irritation of a man who knew exactly where this conversation was headed and wanted none of it. But the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him. There was amusement there, buried under layers of exhaustion and pride, and Theo, ever perceptive, caught it instantly.

Feigning innocence, Theo held up his hands in mock surrender, though his grin remained firmly in place. "Alright, alright, I'll behave. For now." His voice dropped slightly, the humor fading as he shifted gears. "But seriously… maybe I can ask Luna to keep a closer eye on her? You know she's good with this kind of thing."

Draco's posture softened just a fraction. He exhaled slowly, running a hand down his face, as if the mere suggestion of help was enough to take some of the weight off his shoulders. "That would be appreciated," he admitted, his voice quieter now, a rare moment of vulnerability slipping through the cracks in his usual composure. Of course, Malfoy was far too proud to ever outright ask for help, but his gratitude was evident in the way he nodded, in the brief but meaningful glance he shot Theo.

For a moment, there was silence, save for the distant hum of the party still carrying on without them. Theo hesitated, debating whether to push, but curiosity won out. "May I ask… what happened? I mean, you said she's okay now, but what got her there in the first place? Why was she in such a bad place?"

Draco's expression turned unreadable, his gaze darkening as the memories resurfaced. He looked past Theo, staring at nothing in particular, his voice unnervingly steady when he finally spoke. "She killed my father."

Theo blinked, completely caught off guard by the casual delivery. He had expected something grim, but not this. His brows shot up, and for a second, he wasn't sure whether to be horrified or impressed. Eventually, a slow, knowing grin spread across his face, the admiration undeniable. "I know. I like her," he muttered. "Wand? Weapons?" His tone was far too enthusiastic for the conversation at hand.

Draco smirked slightly, a ghost of the Malfoy arrogance slipping back into place. "Recin," he said smoothly, as if discussing nothing more serious than a new book he had read. His tone, however, made it clear that further details were off the table. "But I don't think she'll appreciate it if I go around sharing all our secrets."

He let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "Damn. She really doesn't do things halfway, does she?" He exhaled, his expression turning more thoughtful. "My moon understands, you know… how hard it can be after something like that. She'll know what to say. She's been there."

Draco glanced up at him, and for the first time all evening, his carefully maintained walls cracked just a little. The flicker of gratitude in his gaze was brief, but undeniable. "She'll love that," he admitted, a rare warmth creeping into his voice. "Hermione always had a soft spot for Luna. And for all her… eccentricities, your wife has a way of making things feel lighter."

He nodded, his decision already made. "I'll make sure she visits often. You're not in this alone, mate."

The weight of those words hung between them, solid and unspoken, a quiet understanding that stretched beyond mere words. They had both been through hell. They had both clawed their way back. And though neither of them was particularly skilled at verbalizing their emotions, the promise stood firm— I've got you.

Draco cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably as if suddenly aware of how much he had let slip. The gratitude was still there, but now it was masked beneath a return to his usual, detached demeanor. "Thank you, Theodore," he said, his voice measured. "I mean it."

Theo clapped him on the back and smirked. "Anytime, boss. Anytime."

With that, they rejoined the party, but the weight of their conversation lingered—an unspoken pact between two men who had lost, who had fought, and who had vowed, above all else, to protect the women they loved.

~~~~~~

As the festivities wound down and the last golden rays of sunlight bathed the garden in a warm glow, they gathered their friends, offering their heartfelt thanks. The air buzzed with lingering joy, glasses clinked in final toasts, and tight embraces were exchanged, sealing the day as one filled with laughter, love, and just the right amount of chaos. Promises of future gatherings hung in the air, and even Theo, who usually scoffed at sentimentality, felt a quiet sense of contentment settle over him.

Then, as if on cue, an earsplitting wail erupted from the nursery.

Before Luna could so much as turn her head, Theo was already gone, his Apparition so abrupt it left behind a faint crack! She sighed, sharing an exasperated yet amused glance with Pansy before the two followed at a much more reasonable pace.

When they reached the nursery, they found Theo standing stiff as a board, his eyes wide with pure horror as he stared at the crib. "What the hell is happening?" he demanded, looking like he had just witnessed something unspeakable.

Luna, cradling Lysander, struggled to suppress a giggle, while Pansy, never one to let an opportunity pass, smirked and plucked a certain uninvited guest from the crib.

"Relax, Nott," she drawled, holding up Lady, who was looking immensely pleased with herself. "Your worst nightmare has come true—your son and my beautiful, perfect, flawless dog are now best friends."

Theo looked positively scandalized. "That beast was in the crib with my son? Sleeping beside him? Like—like they're equals?!"

Luna kissed Lysander's forehead, her voice the picture of calm as she said, "Our son clearly likes her, my Sun. And I do believe we agreed that Lady isn't bothering him. You really need to relax, Theodore."

"Good job, love," Pansy snickered. "Keep your husband at heel."

"I am not a dog, Parkinson!" he shot back, but she had already sauntered off, laughing all the way.

Theo turned to Luna, brow furrowed. "So this is just my life now? I have to accept that thing as a permanent presence? What if she corrupts him, Luna? What if he starts making that face?" He gestured wildly at Lady, who had the audacity to stare back at him with a look of utter superiority.

Luna sighed, rocking Lysander gently. "Theodore."

"What?" he huffed.

"Are you upset with me?" she asked, her voice gentle.

His scowl wavered. "No," he grumbled, before promptly betraying himself with a dramatic sigh and the world's most pitiful expression. "But why does she get to be his best friend? I should be his best friend."

Luna bit her lip to keep from laughing. "Theo, you are his best friend. But he's allowed to have more than one."

He folded his arms, clearly unimpressed. "I just don't like her."

Luna arched a delicate brow. "You do. I've seen you napping with her."

"That was an accident."

"It wasn't," she countered, her eyes twinkling. "And you know it. She's family now."

Theo groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Fine. Fine. But only because I love you."

Luna smiled, stepping closer, wrapping one arm around his waist while their son lay nestled between them. "You have my soul, my body, and my mind, Theodore," she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "You have all the love in my very being."

Theo exhaled, sinking into the embrace, letting the last of his ridiculous resentment melt away. "…Alright," he grumbled. "But if she snores in his ear, I will have words."

Luna chuckled, resting her forehead against his. "You'll survive."

"I doubt it," he muttered, but when he kissed her again, it was clear—Lady Lemongrass may have won the battle, but in the war for his heart, Luna remained undefeated.