Late morning light spilled through the bay windows and settled into the kitchen, warming the long wooden table where Theo had already put in far more effort than breakfast required. Pancakes steamed gently on the plates, syrup sweet in the air, mingling with the green, fresh scent of the wildflowers he had picked only an hour earlier. The bouquet sat slightly off center, uneven and imperfect, which somehow made it feel more honest, more theirs.
Luna drifted toward him without a sound, barefoot against the floor, and plucked a blueberry straight from his fingers. She said nothing. She only looked at him while she ate it slowly, watching his reaction with quiet amusement as her lips curved just enough to undo him. Theo breathed out through his nose, steadying himself, fully aware that he would surrender to her in any situation if she chose to look at him like that. She moved past him then, dress brushing her ankles, and took her seat at the table, her fingers tracing the folded napkins with idle curiosity.
He set her plate down with care, taking his time as he poured the syrup in deliberate lines before adding a small sprig of mint on top. It served no purpose beyond pleasing her, which made it entirely necessary. He knew she would notice, because she always did.
Luna looked up at him with a softness that made his chest tighten, as if she could see every thought that had gone into something as ordinary as breakfast. "Thank you, my love," she said quietly, her voice low and careful, like the moment might slip away if she spoke too loudly.
He answered without hesitation, his tone calm and certain. "Anything for you."
They ate slowly, stretching the morning by choice, letting the world stay distant for a while longer. Fingers brushed across the table now and then. Glances lingered. Meaning passed between them without needing words. He reached over at one point to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and she nudged his foot with hers beneath the table, a small grounding touch that said more than conversation ever could.
Eventually, Theo took her hand, his thumb moving gently over her skin as if committing the feeling to memory. "I could get used to this," he said, his voice lower now, carrying more weight than the words suggested.
Luna tilted her head, her expression innocent in a way that was never accidental. She dipped the tip of her finger into the syrup and licked it clean, watching him the entire time as his jaw tightened despite himself. "You mean pancakes shaped like hearts every morning?"
He laughed softly, shaking his head, his fingers tracing slow circles around her wrist. "That," he said, warm and honest, "and you. Especially you."
She smiled into the rim of her mug, warmth blooming in her chest at the way he said it, like she was the center point everything else quietly revolved around. They lingered at the table long after the plates were empty, drifting easily between nonsense and honesty, the kind that only surfaced when time felt generous. They laughed until their sides hurt. Theo launched into a dramatic retelling of the night he insisted he could out drink Blaise Zabini, complete with a slurred monologue delivered to the kitchen table about morality and fate before promptly passing out. She reminded him, with far too much delight, of the potion she once convinced him would grant visions of the future, which instead left him violently ill in the garden for hours while she brought him tea and tried not to laugh. He accused her of blackmailing him into keeping ugly pets, and she calmly pointed out that he had selected them himself and now defended them with alarming loyalty.
Eventually, Theo rose and tugged her gently to her feet, guiding her toward the window where sunlight spilled across the floor in thick, golden bands. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder as they looked out together, sharing the quiet. It was simple and unremarkable on the surface, and somehow it felt like everything.
His arms tightened just slightly, as if instinct told him to keep her close, as if proximity alone could anchor her there. When he spoke, his voice was low and bare in a way he rarely allowed.
"Stay here with me."
She understood what he meant without needing him to say more. Luna turned in his arms, her hands sliding up his chest until they rested over his heart. She met his eyes without hesitation.
"Always, Theo."
Something eased in his expression, something deep and reverent, as if her answer had shifted a weight he had been carrying without naming it. Then his mood turned playful in an instant. Before she could react, he scooped her up with an easy strength that drew a startled laugh from her.
"Theo," she squealed, looping her arms around his neck as he walked out of the kitchen, "what are you doing?"
"Kidnapping you," he said, entirely pleased with himself.
She laughed against his shoulder. "And where exactly are you taking me?"
"To the sofa. Permanently."
He settled them onto the couch, pulling her into his lap and wrapping his arms around her waist, rocking her gently in a slow, steady rhythm that soothed her down to her bones. Luna sighed, melting into him, her fingers playing idly with the collar of his shirt as she tucked herself closer.
"I like this," she murmured.
Theo pressed a lingering kiss into her hair, his voice warm and certain when he spoke again.
"Good," he said quietly. "Because I am not letting you go."
Theo had something else in mind. With a knowing smirk, he scooped her into his arms effortlessly, carrying her from the kitchen and into the living room, where the plush sofa awaited them. He sat down, settling her onto his lap, his hands already roaming her waist, pulling her flush against him as he rocked her slowly, teasingly, setting a deliberate rhythm that sent anticipation rippling through her body.
Luna met his gaze, her blue eyes alight with mischief and desire as her fingers traced slow, featherlight circles over his chest. "Is this what you need, my love?" she asked, her voice a hushed melody against his ear.
Theo groaned, his grip tightening on her hips as he ground up against her teasingly, making her gasp. "Every inch of you, darling," he murmured, his voice thick with need as his hands slipped under her dress, fingers skimming up the soft expanse of her thighs, thumbs pressing into her flesh possessively.
She smiled, unhurried and utterly intoxicating, as she slowly peeled her dress over her head, letting the fabric slide down her arms before tossing it aside. His hungry eyes roamed over her, taking in the sight of her bare skin now glowing under the dim afternoon light. She let him look, let him hunger, before reaching for his shirt and unbuttoning it with excruciating slowness, brushing her fingers across his exposed skin as she went, reveling in the way his breath hitched beneath her touch.
By the time she had him bare, she could feel how hard he was beneath her, the heat of him pressing insistently against her, waiting, needing. She lifted herself just slightly, taking her time as she reached between them, lining him up with her entrance, teasing them both as she let the head of his cock slide against her slick folds. Theo let out a ragged breath, his fingers digging into her thighs. "Luna," he ground out, his patience hanging by a thread.
She exhaled a soft, breathy moan as she slowly, deliberately sank down onto him, taking him inch by inch, stretching around him until he was fully seated inside her. Theo's head fell back against the couch, his grip bruising as he forced himself to stay still, to let her set the pace. She rolled her hips experimentally, her walls clenching around him, making them both shudder.
"Fuck," he hissed, his jaw tightening as he watched her, mesmerized by the way she moved, the way she used him for her own pleasure, her nails biting into his shoulders as she rode him with a slow, sinuous grace that had him barely holding on to control.
He let her lead, let her take what she wanted, but when she began to tremble, her moans turning into desperate little gasps, he snapped. With a growl, he gripped her hips and flipped them, pressing her into the cushions as he took over, thrusting deep and slow, dragging every inch of pleasure from her body as she cried out beneath him.
"You feel so fucking good," he rasped against her throat, his lips and teeth leaving marks along her delicate skin. She arched into him, her legs wrapping around his waist as she pulled him impossibly closer, her nails scoring red lines down his back as he fucked her into oblivion.
Hermione stumbled out of the fireplace, ash clinging to her sleeves, her thoughts tangled and racing. She barely registered where she was before her eyes landed on the sofa, and her breath caught painfully in her throat.
They were tangled together, bare skin and heat and movement. His hands were on Luna, fingers sliding over her breasts as she leaned back against him, her body moving in quick, hungry rhythm as she rode him. The room had been filled with soft sounds and breath until Hermione's sharp gasp cut through it, sudden and loud.
"Oh my God," she blurted, frozen where she stood.
His head snapped up at once, fury replacing surprise in an instant. "Get out, Granger," he barked, his voice sharp and unfiltered.
Hermione flushed scarlet, stumbling backward. "I am so sorry," she rushed out, mortified, nearly tripping over herself as she scrambled away from the fireplace and turned blindly toward the kitchen.
Behind her, Luna's voice followed, calm and unbothered despite the situation. "How can we help you, Mimi," she asked gently, still seated on him, utterly composed.
Hermione stopped short, her back half turned. She swallowed hard, heat burning her cheeks. "I did not know where else to go," she said quietly. "I just needed someone to talk to."
Theo groaned, frustration clear. "Granger, at this point I am starting to think this is intentional," he muttered. "If you insist on staying, at least face the other direction."
Hermione mumbled another apology and retreated fully into the kitchen, hands braced on the counter as she forced herself to breathe. From the living room came the sound of quiet laughter and murmured voices, oddly grounding despite the humiliation curling in her stomach.
A short while later, Luna appeared, wrapped in a soft robe, hair loose around her shoulders. She crossed the kitchen and sat beside Hermione, resting a warm hand over hers without hesitation.
"What's wrong, Mimi," she asked softly.
Hermione stared down at the table, fingers tightening together. When she spoke, her voice trembled. "Something is wrong with me. Something is broken." She inhaled shakily. "I slept with Draco after he dropped a severed head in my fireplace. And the worst part is that his violence, the intensity of it, it turned me on. I wanted him right there, with everything still fresh and awful. I do not understand how I could feel that way."
She finally looked up, eyes wet and raw. "I do not even recognize myself anymore."
Luna listened without interrupting, her expression steady and open. When Hermione faltered, she leaned in and wrapped her arms around her, holding her firmly, grounding her with warmth.
"Oh, Mimi," she murmured, fingers brushing through Hermione's hair. "You are not broken. You are human and you are hurting. Trauma does not follow rules or behave politely. It tangles things together that do not always make sense. What you are feeling does not make you wrong."
Hermione pulled back slightly, searching her face. "It feels dark," she said. "Like I crossed something I cannot undo."
Luna shook her head gently. "You are allowed to feel what you feel. It does not define who you are. Desire and fear often get knotted together after violence. That does not mean the darkness owns you."
Hermione exhaled slowly, shoulders easing a fraction. "I do not want him to see me as weak," she admitted. "I want to be strong. But I am drawn to the part of him that feels dangerous and powerful. Like he sees the parts of me I hide."
Luna smiled softly, her hand still resting over Hermione's. "Sometimes the people who love us see us clearly. Draco sees you, all of you. That intensity comes from recognition. Let him see you, but do not disappear inside it. And remember that you are not alone in this."
Hermione nodded, breathing more evenly now. The chaos inside her did not vanish, but it quieted enough for her to sit with it, held steady by Luna's calm presence.
"But what if I can't fix it," she whispered, her voice small, tears soaking into the sleeve of her robe. "What if this darkness never goes away."
She held Hermione closer, fingers moving in slow, steady strokes through her hair. "You do not have to fix everything at once, and you do not have to do it alone," she said quietly, her voice calm and sure. "You have people who love you and want to walk through this with you. Draco is one of them. He is right there, Hermione. Let him in. Let him see what is happening inside you. He loves you as you are, and he will understand."
Hermione swallowed, gripping her hand as the words settled. A breath slipped out of her chest, long and unsteady, as the tight knot of shame loosened its hold. "I do not know what I would do without you," she said, her voice thick with gratitude.
She smiled and brushed a tear from Hermione's cheek. "We are all here for you, Mimi. You do not have to face this alone. Not now, and never."
They sat together in silence for a while, Hermione's breathing evening out as she leaned into the quiet comfort of her presence. When she finally pulled back, she wiped her eyes and offered a small, grateful smile. "I will talk to Draco," she said softly. "I will try to let him in."
"Good," she replied, warmth and encouragement woven into her expression. "Just take it one step at a time. Healing does not move in straight lines. It shifts and curves, and that does not mean you are lost. We are here to walk with you."
Hermione squeezed her hand. "Thank you, babe. I do not know how you always know what to say."
Her gaze softened, thoughtful for a moment, as if touching something unspoken. "It is easy to see strength and beauty in others," she said gently. "Sometimes it just takes a friend to help you see it in yourself."
As Hermione leaned back against her, a quiet calm settled in her chest, and for the first time in weeks, that sense of peace felt close enough to reach.
~~~~~~
They stood in the living room, sharing a knowing smirk as they teased Hermione for her unexpected entrance and her apparent voyeur tendencies as she hurried out.
He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. "Now, where were we, my love?" he murmured, his voice a low, enticing rumble. His hands slipped to her hips, pressing her gently against him. "I wasn't quite finished with you earlier," he whispered, a spark of mischief in his eyes. "And I fully intend to feel you come on my cock again."
Her cheeks flushed as she bit her lip, glancing up at him with a shy smile. "I want you to do the other thing," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
He raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "What other thing, my love?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.
She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the floor. "When you… you know," she stammered, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over her.
He leaned closer, his eyes locking onto hers with intensity. "I don't know, sweet girl. You need to tell me exactly what you need. I promise I'll give you anything," he said softly, encouraging her.
She bit her lip, still shy. "It's just... embarrassing," she admitted, her heart racing.
He shook his head gently. "It's not embarrassing at all. Come here, show me then."
Taking a deep breath, she stepped closer, feeling a rush of confidence as she reached for his hands. She placed them firmly on her bum, looking into his eyes to gauge his reaction. "Like this," she said, a shy smile breaking through as she felt the warmth of his touch.
She gazed up at him, her cheeks flushed with a mix of shyness and desire. "This is what I want," she said softly.
His eyes darkened with intensity as he placed one of her legs on his hip, his fingers deftly tracing the curve of her body. With a teasing smirk, he reached around and gently inserted a finger into her ass, watching her reaction closely. She gasped, her breath hitching at the unexpected sensation.
In one fluid motion, he pressed her against the wall, lifting both her legs onto his shoulders. "Stay there, my love," he commanded, his voice low and possessive. "I'm going to fuck you a little bit, okay?"
"Yes, please," she replied breathlessly, her body responding eagerly to his every touch.
With one swift thrust, he slid his cock inside her, the sensation heightened by her lingering wetness. He began to fuck her at a brutal pace, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body.
"Be a good girl for me and get on your knees," he instructed, his tone firm yet enticing.
She sank to her knees, looking up at him with anticipation. She opened her mouth wide, ready to take him in.
He grinned down at her, reveling in the sight of her submission as he began to fuck her mouth, the rhythm quickening as he lost himself in the pleasure of the moment. "That's it, my love. Get on all fours for me."
She positioned herself on her forearms, her backside raised in anticipation.
He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Perfect. Let me see you."
With a teasing pull, he separated her cheeks, a playful gesture that sent shivers down her spine.
"Just relax," he said, his voice low and soothing as he gently teased her, letting her adjust to the sensation.
She let out a soft whimper, excitement coursing through her as he entered her slowly, allowing her to savor the moment.
"That's my good girl," he encouraged, maintaining a steady rhythm. "Show me that little trick you do."
"I... I can't," she gasped, feeling the pressure build. "Love, please… It's too much."
"Shh, baby," he whispered, his pace increasing slightly. "Just let go for me. I want to see you squirt all over my floor."
With each thrust, the tension within her grew, her body responding eagerly to him. The moment built until she finally let go, a wave of pleasure washing over her as she surrendered to the experience.
Just as he felt the tension building, a loud crack echoed through the room.
Blaise's voice came through the Floo network, a mix of urgency and annoyance. "Theo! I need your help—immediately!"
He groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes. "Can a man not have an orgasm in his own home without being interrupted? I mean, honestly, Blaise!"
He levitated her onto the bed, giving her a playful wink. "I'll be right back after the call. Try not to miss me too much!"
She grinned, pretending to pout. "Hurry back, my love! Who knows how long I can keep my enthusiasm in check without you!"
He smirked, shaking his head as he walked toward the Floo. "If you keep teasing me like that, I might just send Blaise straight to Azkaban!"
~~~~~~
Theo stepped into the nursery, easing the door shut behind him so it would not creak. The room held a soft, steady quiet, broken only by the low hum of a lullaby and the faint sound of their baby's breathing. Warm light spilled across the walls, catching on the painted moons and stars. Luna sat in the rocking chair, moving in a slow rhythm, Lysander tucked against her chest as she hummed without thinking about it.
He paused there, watching her. The way her gaze softened when it fell on their son. The way her body curved around him, protective and sure. Something in Theo's chest loosened at the sight, even as guilt pressed in behind it. This was the world he wanted to keep safe, no matter the cost.
"I'm sorry, my moon," he said quietly as he stepped closer.
Luna lifted her head, concern replacing the calm on her face. "Are you alright, my sun," she asked, her voice gentle and attentive.
He drew in a breath and let it out slowly. His eyes dropped to the floor, to the familiar boards beneath his feet. "Ginny left Blaise," he said. "It's bad. Everything's tangled. I just thought you should know."
Her mouth tightened with sympathy. "Oh, Theo. I'm so sorry," she said, shifting slightly in the chair so Lysander stayed settled. Her eyes searched his face. "What happened."
He hesitated, then looked at her fully. The fear he usually kept buried slipped into his voice. "Will you ever leave me."
The question hung there, raw and unguarded.
Luna did not flinch. She shook her head once, slow and certain. "I'm not planning to," she said, simply and honestly.
He studied her, still unsure, the tension in his shoulders refusing to ease. "Why," he asked. "Why are you alright with what I do. With the violence. With all of it."
She held his gaze, her expression serious, grounded. "You weren't the only one who grew up hurting," she said. "People survive in different ways. We all carry marks from where we came from. Some are louder than others."
Her words settled into the room, steady and unafraid. Theo felt something shift inside him as he stood there, looking at the woman who knew him fully and chose him anyway.
His gaze softened, even as the weight of his past lingered in his eyes. Doubt sat there, close to the surface. "Are you scared of me?" he asked quietly, the question raw in a way he rarely allowed.
She held his eyes without hesitation. "Never," she said. Her voice was steady, certain. She reached for his hand and wove her fingers through his, anchoring him where he stood.
"Theo," she continued, gentler now, "I know you have done terrible things." She did not soften the truth. She let it exist between them.
He looked away, jaw tight, memories rising whether he wanted them to or not. "And I know you have too," he said, barely audible.
She nodded. "We both have. That has never changed how I feel about you."
Something loosened in him. He drew her closer as she took a breath, gathering herself.
"I had an abusive grandfather," she said. "He hurt my grandmother. I saw it. I saw the bruises, the fear, the way she learned to stay quiet. I hated him. That shaped me more than I ever admitted."
Pain flickered across his face as he listened. "I am so sorry," he said. "You should never have lived with that."
"He was violent," she went on. "I was a child. I saw everything. His rage filled the house. My grandmother had nowhere to hide. It followed me everywhere."
He held her tighter, wishing he could erase those memories for her. "No one deserves that," he said softly.
Her voice shook, then steadied. "One day I decided it had to stop. I could not watch it continue. I could not stay powerless."
She lifted her eyes to his. "He is buried under my family house now. The earth holds him."
Silence settled between them, heavy and unavoidable.
Theo searched her face, awe and unease tangled together. "You took control," he said quietly.
"I have lived with it ever since," she replied. "It was about ending the cycle. It was about making sure no one else suffered the way she did."
"You are stronger than you know," he said, admiration clear in his voice.
Her gaze dropped. "It still cost me something. I carry guilt. Fear. I ask myself every day if I crossed a line."
He lifted her chin gently. "You acted to protect. You were trying to save someone you loved. That matters."
Tears gathered in her eyes. "I lost part of my innocence."
He pulled her into his arms. "You were a child doing what you believed was necessary. That does not make you cruel."
She leaned into him, breath uneven. "Sometimes it feels like the darkness never left."
"Then let me stand with you," he said quietly. "You do not have to carry this alone."
She looked up at him, hope fragile but present. "You mean that."
"I do," he said. "Always."
Her mouth curved into a small, grateful smile. "Thank you."
He kissed her forehead, gentle and sure. "You are not defined by what was done to you. You are defined by the strength you chose to grow into."
They stayed there, wrapped together, sharing the weight of what they had survived. Both scarred. Both choosing to keep going side by side.
"I think I'm finally ready to let go of some of this pain," she whispered, a mixture of trepidation and hope coloring her tone. "With you by my side, I feel like I can start to heal."
"Then let's do it together," he said, his voice firm and reassuring. "One step at a time. We'll build a future that honors your past but doesn't let it control us. I believe in you, my love."
"And I believe in us," she added, her smile growing wider, a beacon of hope that pierced through the darkness. "Thank you for being my anchor."
As they stood together, enveloped in a warm embrace, they both felt a profound sense of connection—a reminder that, while the road ahead might be challenging, they would walk it hand in hand, forging a path towards healing and love.
~~~~~~
He stood in the garden with a scowl carved deep into his face, tending to the ridiculous collection of magical creatures Luna had insisted on keeping. In his hands was a bucket of raw meat meant for the hippogriff, a creature he despised with a sincerity that bordered on personal offense.
The beast watched him from a careful distance, sharp eyes tracking every movement. Theo felt his irritation spike under the scrutiny. "Why did I ever agree to this," he muttered. "Out of every possible way to prove my devotion, it had to be this. A massive bird horse that demands a bow before deciding whether or not to kill me."
He dropped the bucket onto the grass with a dull thud. The hippogriff snorted, a sound that felt suspiciously judgmental. Theo shot it a glare. "You're lucky she loves you, you oversized chicken. If this were my decision, you'd be locked in a very secure enclosure somewhere far away from me."
He forced himself into the required bow, stiff and resentful, feeling his pride twist in on itself. At some point in his life, he had been feared. Dangerous. Respected. Now he was lowering his head in his own garden, humbling himself before a creature that looked one bad mood away from ripping him apart.
And the hippogriff was only part of the problem.
His eyes drifted toward the flowerbeds where a cluster of fairies hovered, giggling as they tangled themselves in Luna's carefully tended moonflowers. "Fantastic," he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. "Winged menaces. Do they serve any purpose besides destroying plants and laughing at me."
He thought of the rest of the menagerie they had somehow accumulated. Bowtruckles that scratched his desk legs. Puffskeins that nested in his shoes. Gnomes Luna insisted on rehabilitating instead of removing like a sensible person. Their home had stopped being an estate and turned into a sanctuary with opinions.
"A muggle zoo would have been easier," he grumbled. "At least elephants don't curse you or judge your posture."
Still, even as he complained, he knew exactly why he put up with it. Luna. Always Luna. If she wanted a hippogriff, he would find her one. If she wanted a garden full of strange, inconvenient creatures, he would build it with his own hands.
She was the reason the chaos existed. She was also the reason he stayed.
The hippogriff finally stepped forward and accepted the meat with dramatic reluctance. Theo exhaled slowly and watched it eat, shoulders sagging.
"This is love," he muttered. "Losing your dignity and your peace of mind for someone who probably has no idea how much you hate the things she loves."
He straightened, wiped his hands on his trousers, and glanced back toward the house where Luna would be humming softly, completely unaware of the war he fought daily in the garden.
Lysander's small feet pattered across the stone path, his face smeared with color and joy as he ran toward the house. Theo stood by the door, leaning against the frame, watching him with a quiet smile that softened everything in his chest. The neighbor's house had done its damage. Glitter clung to Lysander's hair. His sleeves were streaked with paint. His eyes shone like he had discovered something important and could not wait to share it.
"Dada," Lysander squealed, throwing himself forward with no regard for balance or dignity.
Theo caught him easily and laughed, lifting him into his arms and holding him close. The weight of his son grounded him in a way nothing else could. "Hello, love," he said, kissing the top of Lysander's messy curls. "Did you have fun today?"
"Painting," Lysander declared proudly, tugging at Theo's sleeve with urgent little hands.
Theo raised a brow, already smiling. "Painting, is it. Let's see what you made."
Lysander dug into his bag and produced a piece of paper with great ceremony. It was chaos in color. Smears, splashes, shapes that might have been animals or might have been feelings. Theo studied it with solemn care, then pressed a kiss to his son's forehead. "It's beautiful," he said sincerely. "You get better every time. You're a genius."
"Genius," Lysander repeated, giggling as if the word itself was a toy.
Theo felt something swell in his chest. Whatever his son became, whatever path he chose, he knew it would be bright simply because Lysander existed the way he did.
Luna appeared from around the corner of the house, her dress catching the breeze as she rocked their baby gently in her arms. Her smile warmed when she saw them. She stepped closer, eyes soft, and lowered the baby carefully so she could reach Theo properly. Lysander wriggled free and wrapped himself around her legs, clinging to her with fierce affection.
Theo and Luna met in the middle, and their mouths found each other without thinking. The kiss was deep and grounding, full of everything they carried and everything they survived. For a moment, the world narrowed to breath and closeness and the quiet certainty of each other.
She pulled back just enough to rest her forehead against his. "Missed us," she whispered.
He kept his hands at her back, steady and sure. "I don't like it when he's gone," he admitted. "The house feels wrong without him."
Her smile softened. "I feel the same. I could stay like this forever."
Then her gaze drifted toward the garden.
"You know," she said thoughtfully, "we could get another—"
"No," Theo said immediately, gripping her arm to stop the sentence before it could grow legs. "Absolutely not. I need something normal. A cat. A dog. A horse. Anything that does not glow, bite, curse, or multiply."
She arched a brow, amused. "Alright. A mammal."
He closed his eyes and inhaled like a man preparing for war. "Do not get ideas. No more creatures. The next thing you bring home is going straight to the Magical Menagerie."
She kissed his cheek, sweet and unrepentant. "Don't worry. I was thinking another rabbit. The kind that reproduces overnight and takes over your study."
He groaned. "You do this on purpose."
She laughed, light and delighted, and ruffled Lysander's hair. "Our family thrives on surprise."
Theo looked down at his son, then back at her, shaking his head. "You are impossible," he said. "Fine. One more. Then I'm done."
Her laughter rang through the garden, and Theo let it fill him. Chaos or not, creatures or not, this was his life. And with Luna and Lysander beside him, he knew he could handle whatever came next.
He stood in the garden, staring in disbelief at the construction workers who were busily hammering away at the far corner of the yard the next day. The sounds of drilling and machinery echoed in the morning air. There were blueprints scattered across the ground, tools everywhere, and—a pool?
Theo's chest tightened, a mixture of disbelief and frustration building up inside him.
Why would Luna listen to him?
What had he possibly done to deserve this? And yet—he knew what he'd done.
That wasn't the point, though, was it?
He hadn't meant to unleash a whirlwind of chaos by making that one silly request the night before. But here he was, standing in the middle of a construction site, and it was all his fault.