She moved gracefully around the kitchen, setting the table with their favorite dishes, her mind half-focused on the meal and half on Theo. She knew he was with Blaise, offering the support only a true friend could. Ginny was gone for months at this point. When she heard the front door close, she smiled to herself, feeling the warmth of his presence even before he entered the room.
He walked in and instantly found her by the stove, catching her around the waist and pulling her close, his kiss filled with an intensity that made her heart race. She responded, her hands weaving into his hair as he held her like he never wanted to let go.
"Did you miss me, my love?" she asked, her voice soft and warm.
Theo sighed, resting his forehead against hers. "Blaise is a complete mess right now," he murmured, a shadow of sadness crossing his face. "And it just made me realize how lucky I am to have you. To have you by my side, to come home to… I don't take that for granted, my moon."
Her expression softened, and she wrapped her arms around him tightly. "You don't have to thank me for staying, Sunny. I told you, I'll always be here—no matter what." She pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze with a twinkle in her eye. "But remember, my threat still stands. If anyone ever hurts Lysander, I'm going to kill you on sight."
He let out a deep laugh, the tension melting from his shoulders. "And as I've already told you, my love," he replied, his voice thick with emotion, "I would rather die than let anyone lay a finger on our son. Nothing matters more to me than protecting him… and you."
Her heart swelled at his words, and she gently stroked his cheek, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw. "We're a team, you know. Whatever comes our way, we face it together. That's the promise we made to each other."
They shared a lingering look, the weight of their unspoken vows filling the room. Finally, Theo pulled out a chair for her, gesturing for her to sit. "This late lunch is a welcome distraction," he said, glancing at the spread she'd prepared. "Let's enjoy it together."
They sat down, sharing quiet laughter and stories, the love between them woven into every shared glance and gentle touch. It wasn't grand gestures or spoken promises that defined them—it was moments like this, where they were simply together, building a life filled with trust, resilience, and unshakeable loyalty.
As they finished their meal, he reached across the table, taking her hand. "I'm grateful every single day that I have you, my love. And I'll spend my life proving to you that I'll always protect our family."
Her gaze held his as she gave his hand a soft, reassuring squeeze. "We'll protect each other. Always," she promised, her voice filled with warmth.
In one fluid motion, he scooped her into his arms, carrying her toward the living room. She let out a light, melodic laugh as he guided her to the oversized couch.
"We started something…" he murmured, a playful spark in his eye, "…and I think it's time we finish it."
Her lips curved into a mischievous smile. "Hmm, then I suppose we'd better find a way to wrap it up properly, shouldn't we?"
He gently laid her down on the plush couch, lifting her leg onto his shoulder as he trailed soft, lingering kisses along her inner thighs, his lips warm against her skin. She shivered, the anticipation and tenderness making her breath hitch.
The sounds of her quiet, pleading whimpers were music to him, and he couldn't resist any longer. He slipped a finger inside her, his mouth following suit as he worshiped her with gentle, devoted attentiveness. She gasped, her body arching beneath him, teetering on the brink of release.
Just as she felt herself nearing that crest, he pulled back, gazing down at her with a teasing smirk. "Not yet, my moonbeam," he whispered, his voice low. "When you come, it's going to be with me, right here."
He lifted her onto his lap, positioning her gently as she wrapped herself around him. He entered her slowly, savoring every delicate moment as they moved in perfect rhythm, their breaths and heartbeats aligning in a shared universe all their own. Together, they were a perfect balance—the sun and moon in a seamless, radiant orbit.
In that moment, there was no past, no future, only the present—a place where their love and trust shone brighter than anything outside their embrace.
Ginny burst through the fireplace without warning, knife raised, eyes wild with rage.
"I am going to kill you," she shouted, her voice tearing through the room.
Luna screamed and stumbled back as Theo reacted on instinct, throwing a protective charm around her before stepping forward himself.
"Ginny, put the knife down," he said, palms raised, trying to keep his voice steady.
She did not slow. She charged him with pure, feral intent.
"Theodore, I mean it," Ginny snarled, chasing him across the room.
Theo swore under his breath and bolted, knocking over chairs, shoving cushions and a potted plant into her path, grabbing anything he could to put distance between them.
"Ginny, I am not going to hurt you," he shouted, breath sharp now. "Drop the knife."
She swung wildly, missing him by inches.
The fireplace flared again and Blaise stumbled through, taking in the scene in one horrified glance.
"Ginny, stop," he yelled. "This is not his fault. Put it down."
Luna's hands shook as she raised her wand. A silver Patronus burst into the air and raced away, her voice carried with it.
"Come quickly, Mimi. Ginny is trying to kill Theo."
Draco and Hermione Apparated into the Nott mansion, their eyes widening at the sheer chaos in front of them.
The scene was pure mayhem. Ginny, her eyes blazing with rage, wielded a knife as she charged at Theo, her furious shouts reverberating through the air. Theo was ducking and weaving, narrowly dodging each attempt as shattered glass and broken furniture scattered beneath his feet. Blaise, hands outstretched, was desperately calling Ginny's name, trying to reason with her, while Luna, equally disoriented, was pulling a blanket around herself, clearly caught off guard.
Draco, seeing the madness unfold, didn't waste a moment. With a quick motion and a flash of intent, he froze Ginny in place with a spell, her body suspended mid-stride, the knife still raised threateningly.
"What the fuck is happening?" Hermione yelled, taking in the destruction—the upturned couch, broken vases, and an oddly familiar chaos that was almost surreal.
Luna, pulling the blanket tightly around herself, hurried to Theo, her eyes filled with worry. They'd clearly been interrupted in their intimate moment, adding an odd layer of absurdity to the situation.
He looked around the destroyed living room, his expression a mix of exasperation and disbelief. "Blaise, what is this?" he demanded, gesturing at the wreckage.
Blaise's shoulders slumped as he gave a resigned sigh. "She knows," he muttered.
His brow furrowed as he rubbed his temples. "Know what, exactly?"
"Come on, babes, let's get you dressed," she said softly, guiding a visibly rattled Luna toward the hallway and away from the madness.
"Explain," he demanded, his voice low and deadly as he turned back to the men.
Theo pointed toward the couch indignantly. "This madwoman barged in while I was making love with Moon—"
"Not you, Nott," he interrupted, his eyes narrowing. "Zabini, tell me why your pregnant wife just chased Nott around the room with a knife!"
Blaise's gaze dropped to the floor, looking every bit like a man who had been defeated. "She... she asked about things, and I thought I owed her honesty," he said, the words barely a whisper.
Draco let out a humourless laugh, rubbing his temples as he tried to grasp the absurdity of it all. "Explain to me, Zabini, how a woman with a pale ass and a temper like a hurricane has managed to utterly control every decision you make. After 25 years, did it not occur to you that maybe, just maybe, we're leaking sensitive information?"
Theo, still trying to process what had just happened, opened his mouth to speak but quickly closed it when he caught his glare.
He shook his head in frustration. "For Merlin's sake, Nott, get dressed. I'm tired of looking at you strutting around like some sort of exhibitionist. We get it—you have a huge cock. So am I. Congratulations."
Theo glanced down at himself, still in the remnants of a dishevelled state, and turned to grab his clothes. As he dressed hastily, the tension in the room settled into an awkward silence.
Meanwhile, Hermione returned with Luna, both of them dressed, though Luna looked slightly flushed. She glanced at Theo, her eyes warm despite the chaos, and offered him a small smile.
Blaise finally looked back up, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Look, I was just trying to be honest with her—about everything. But it's…complicated."
He sighed, crossing his arms. "Complicated? Zabini, she nearly gutted your best friend like a fish. I'd say we've moved past complicated."
"What, you don't understand, Malfoy?" Blaise's voice rang out, thick with frustration and defiance. "I'm not going to lie to my wife the way you do."
His expression twisted, his voice low and cutting. "I don't lie to her, not anymore. So leave my wife out of this. I tell Hermione everything—every bloody detail of what I do, every dark piece of my work that most people couldn't stomach. She knows it all because she can know. She doesn't like it, but she understands. We have a bond that you and Red will never come close to experiencing in your lifetime." He paused, his eyes glinting with a dangerous edge. "Maybe if you stopped hiding your sins, maybe if she knew the worst of you, you'd understand what real honesty and trust look like."
Get your wife to kill your mother, you'd understand what real honesty and trust feels like," he said, his voice edged with a dark, cold snarl
Blaise looked stunned. "What the hell are you talking about?"
His gaze was unrelenting, fierce. "You heard me. Sometimes you have to confront the ugliest truths to move forward. Set Ginny free from whatever's haunting her, and maybe—maybe—you'll get close to what Hermione and I have."
He straightened, a look of sheer impatience crossing his face. "Now, for Merlin's sake, handle her. I'm done with this shit. I don't care if she's my second-favourite Weasley; she can't just tear through here with a knife like a lunatic."
~~~~~~
The dim light of their bedroom cast long shadows along the walls, the flickering glow of the bedside candles barely keeping the darkness at bay. She sat at the edge of their bed, hands trembling, her breath shallow as she wiped away fresh tears that clung to her lashes. Her mind was still caught in the whirlwind of chaos that had stormed through their home mere hours ago, and the lingering terror made her feel like the walls were closing in.
Theo knelt before her, his movements deliberate, his presence steady despite the storm that still raged inside of him. His face was softer now, stripped of the rage that had consumed him earlier, but his voice remained firm, unwavering. He reached for her hands, his touch warm against her cold fingers.
"My love," he said gently, his thumbs tracing soothing circles over her skin, grounding her, "they're gone now. I've closed off the Floo connection permanently. No one—no one—will set foot inside this house without our permission ever again."
Her lips parted, but the words refused to come at first. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely a whisper, every syllable fragile and laced with the weight of lingering fear. "She… she almost…"
His hands moved to her face, cradling her cheeks, forcing her to meet his gaze. His blue eyes, sharp and intent, searched hers, scanning for any trace of injury. His fingers brushed over her arms, down to her wrists, as if reassuring himself that she was truly unharmed.
"Are you hurt, my moonbeam?" he asked, his voice a touch hoarse, his expression betraying something raw and dangerous just beneath the surface. "Did she harm you?"
She shook her head quickly, but her breath hitched. "No… no. But you, Theo—you could have been hurt." Her voice cracked at the thought, and she hated how helpless it made her sound.
A deep sigh left his lips as he brushed his thumb over her cheek, his touch feather-light. "Luna, look at me," he urged, waiting until her shimmering blue eyes met his once more. "I'm okay, see? Not a scratch on me." He squeezed her hand, pressing it against his chest so she could feel the steady, unbroken rhythm of his heartbeat.
She nodded, but her lips pressed into a thin line, her thoughts still tangled with fear. "This… is this what our life is now?" she asked, her voice breaking. "People trying to kill us?"
His expression darkened, and she felt the shift in the air—an eerie stillness before the inevitable storm. His jaw tightened, his grip on her hand firm but not harsh, his entire being radiating quiet, deadly resolve.
"No one is killing us," he said, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. "Do you understand me, Luna? No one." He exhaled sharply, his fury restrained but simmering beneath the surface. "I'm the one who does the killing when it comes to that. And believe me, if Ginny had been anyone else, I would've taken her own knife and slit her throat without a second thought." His voice dipped lower, colder, edged with something lethal. "I would have fed her eyes to her husband."
A shiver ran down her spine at the way he said it, not as a threat, but as a fact—a certainty, as inevitable as the sun rising. She swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing against her ribs. "Theo…"
He tilted her chin up, his eyes holding hers, steady and unreadable. "What did you think I was doing all those evenings, Luna?" His voice was softer now, almost coaxing, but there was a sharp edge beneath it, a question that had been waiting too long for an answer. "This is who I am. Who I have to be. To keep us safe."
She sighed, glancing away, as if looking anywhere but him would make it easier to absorb. "I know… I know exactly who you are. But hearing it…" She shook her head. "It's still unsettling."
A flicker of something—guilt, perhaps—passed through his features before he masked it. "Would you want me to tell you everything, like Draco does with Hermione?"
She hesitated, chewing on the inside of her cheek, as if weighing the answer in her mind. "Maybe," she murmured. "I'm not sure." Then, after a pause, her voice came out smaller, more vulnerable. "But… they saw me naked, Theo. All of them." Her throat tightened, her cheeks heating at the humiliation of it. "I can't stand the thought of that."
His expression softened, and something unreadable flickered behind his gaze. "If that's what's bothering you, my love," he said, his voice dripping with quiet danger, "I'll make sure they remember nothing. Consider their memories wiped."
She inhaled sharply, startled by the casual ruthlessness of the offer, but then—strangely—relief settled over her. He meant it. If she wanted him to, he would do it. That was the kind of devotion Theo had always given her.
A small, grateful smile tugged at her lips, though it was laced with exhaustion. "Thank you," she whispered, her fingers tightening around his. "I don't want this to change us, Sunny."
His expression softened instantly, and he pulled her into his arms without hesitation, cradling her close, like she was something sacred. He pressed a lingering kiss to her temple, his lips warm and reassuring against her skin. "Nothing will change us," he murmured, his breath fanning against her hair. "Not now, not ever. I'll make sure of it."
She closed her eyes, allowing herself to sink into his warmth, his presence anchoring her in a way nothing else could. The world outside could burn, but here, in Theo's arms, she was safe.
~~~~~~
"Pansy." Luna's voice broke through the Floo, barely louder than a breath, cracked and shaking in a way that made Pansy's stomach seize.
The rug slipped from her hands and was forgotten at once. Her body moved before thought could catch up. She dropped to her knees at the hearth, fingers digging into the stone. "Luna? What's wrong? Are you alright, my love?"
Luna nodded, small and unconvincing, followed by a soft sniffle that gave her away. Her voice came thick and uneven. "I… I think I need help, Pansy."
Cold panic flooded straight through Pansy's chest. She did not hesitate. "Stay where you are. I'm coming now."
She shrugged into her robe with shaking hands, grabbed a fistful of Floo powder, and glanced once at the two dogs curled by the fire. "Stay," she told them, voice tight.
Green flames rose around her as she stepped forward. "Nott Manor."
She emerged into devastation.
The living room looked torn open, stripped down to chaos. Sofa cushions lay ripped apart, stuffing strewn across the floor. Glass glittered everywhere, sharp and dangerous under the low light. Furniture had been shoved aside, overturned, left crooked and wrong. The destruction pressed in on her, yet worse than the mess was the sound. Luna's sobbing echoed through the space, broken and raw, filling the house with grief.
"Luna, darling, where are you?" Pansy called, her voice climbing higher with fear.
"In the bedroom," came the reply, hoarse and shaking.
Pansy was already moving. She took the stairs two at a time, heart slamming against her ribs, shoved the bedroom door open without slowing.
Luna sat curled at the foot of the bed, folded in on herself, trembling. House elves clustered around her, eyes wide and glossy, murmuring comforts, offering tissues, patting her back with frantic care. Luna's face stayed hidden in her hands, sobs shaking through her body.
Pansy's chest tightened painfully. Luna, who carried herself with quiet steadiness, who rarely cracked, was unraveling in front of her.
She crossed the room, dropped down beside her, and pulled Luna into her arms. Her hold was firm and warm, steady enough to anchor them both.
Luna collapsed into her, fingers fisting in Pansy's robe as though it were the only solid thing left. Pansy held her close, chin resting against Luna's hair, whispering anything that came to mind, words meant to soothe even if they blurred together.
When Luna's sobs slowed just enough, Pansy brushed a damp strand of hair back from her face, hands still shaking. She cupped Luna's cheeks gently. "Tell me what happened," she murmured. "I'm here."
Luna tried to answer and failed, another wave of tears breaking loose. Her grip tightened, clinging, desperate. The weight of it all pressed down between them, heavy and suffocating.
Bobsy climbed onto the bed, eyes huge and wet, wringing his hands. Pansy reached out on instinct, smoothing his head and kissing his cheek.
"Bobsy," she said softly, forcing steadiness into her voice. "Tell me. What happened?"
His ears drooped. He stared at the tangled sheets. "Miss Ginny came," he whispered. "She tried to kill Master Theo."
The words hit like ice. Pansy's breath caught, her fingers tightening around Luna's hand. "Ginny tried to hurt Theo?" she managed. "Why?"
Luna drew in a trembling breath. Her voice came small and thin. "She burst in. We were together. We were making love." Her eyes slid away, shame flickering through the fear. "She was screaming. Furious. She had a knife, Pansy. She went straight for him."
Pansy's stomach twisted hard. "She came here armed."
Luna nodded, eyes wide, breath shallow. "Theo kept moving, knocking things over, trying to disarm her. She chased him through the room, screaming that she knew what he'd done."
Bobsy nodded quickly. "She said Master Theo caused Mr Weasley's death."
Pansy sucked in a sharp breath. Ron. Of course. Grief left to rot, anger with nowhere to go.
"She blames him," Luna whispered. "She blames Draco. Blaise. All of them."
Pansy clenched her jaw, understanding and fury colliding in her chest. She knew what the men had done. She knew why. She also knew the cost.
"It isn't only Theo," Luna went on, voice tightening. "She hates all of us. She hates that we stayed. That we chose them."
Pansy swallowed hard. "They did kill Ron and Lavender," she said quietly.
Luna went rigid. Anger flared through the grief. "I know," she cried. "But she tried to kill my husband. In our home. She could have hurt Lysander. She could have hurt me."
Pansy wrapped her arms around her at once, holding tight. "You're safe now," she said fiercely. "I promise."
Luna sagged against her, breathing unevenly. "I called Hermione and Draco," she whispered. "They disarmed her. But I was naked. Everyone saw me. Hermione had to help me dress. I felt exposed. Like I did not belong in my own body."
Pansy's heart ached as she pressed a kiss to Luna's temple. "You did nothing wrong," she said, voice steady and certain. "No one looked at you."
"But Draco and Blaise," Luna murmured.
"They were protecting you and Theo," Pansy replied without hesitation. "That is all they saw."
Luna rested her head against Pansy's shoulder. "Everything feels broken," she said. "We used to be so close. She is pregnant, Pansy. This cannot continue."
Pansy eased back, tucking Luna's hair behind her ear. Resolve settled into her expression. "You're right. This has gone too far."
Luna nodded slowly, exhaustion heavy in her eyes, a small spark of determination returning. "Then we stop her."
Luna rested her head against Pansy's shoulder, trembling. "Everything feels broken. We were once so close. And now…" She exhaled shakily. "She's pregnant, Pansy. Blaise's child. She cannot keep spiraling like this."
Pansy pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, tucking a strand of hair behind Luna's ear. Her voice held steady resolve. "You're right. This has to stop before someone gets seriously hurt."
Luna nodded, exhaustion heavy in her eyes, a small spark of determination returning. "Then we stop her."
~~~~~~
The Parkinson sunroom, usually a monument to polished elegance and deliberate excess, felt smaller than it should have. Sunlight filtered through stained glass, breaking into fractured colours that slid across mahogany and marble without warmth. Pansy sat on a velvet chaise, posture immaculate, composure sharp enough to draw blood. The fitted black cocktail dress and perfectly placed heels were armour, even if the people in the room knew her too well to be fooled by it.
This was family. Some by blood. Some by choice. All of them bound together by years of loyalty that had begun to strain and splinter.
The grandfather clock kept time with ruthless indifference, every tick pressing closer to a reckoning no one could dodge. Pansy's gaze moved slowly around the room. Draco stood rigid, frustration simmering beneath his stillness. Hermione sat with her hands clasped tightly in her lap, eyes serious and alert. Blaise looked stripped bare without his usual charm, vulnerability written plainly across his face. Ginny sat stiffly, jaw locked, eyes burning with a volatile mix of resentment and pain. Luna stood near the centre of it all, calm and steady, the quiet eye of a storm that threatened to tear them apart.
"Well," Pansy finally said, her voice low and sharp, "let's get this over with."
Her gaze swept the room, cold and unflinching.
"Care to explain why everyone's gathered in my home for this… intervention?"
Luna drew a measured breath before answering, her expression composed, her presence grounding in a way that felt deliberate.
"There's a rift in this family. It's tearing us all apart, even if some of us refuse to admit it."
She looked at each of them in turn.
"I invited everyone here to neutral territory so that we can have a civilized conversation. It's time to confront everything we've buried."
Pansy's fingers tightened against the edge of the chaise, though she did not rise. She cast a brief glance behind her at Neville, who stood close, silent and steady. His hand brushed her shoulder, a quiet reminder that she was not facing this alone.
"Go on," Neville said, his voice calm, though tension sat heavy in his frame. "We're listening."
Luna nodded once, drawing strength from the room even as resistance pressed in from every side.
"We're here to address the escalating tension that's tearing us all apart," she said. "Ginny, I need you to explain your actions toward Theo. Blaise, we need clarity on why you confided in her so completely. And Draco…"
Her gaze settled on him, unwavering.
"I expect a justification for why you involved everyone in this turmoil."
The silence that followed was thick and suffocating.
Ginny shifted in her seat, one hand drifting instinctively to her belly. Her eyes flicked to Blaise before she spoke, her voice tight with something close to desperation.
"I needed to know the truth," she said. "I couldn't go on pretending everything was fine, surrounded by lies. I felt like I was suffocating, and no one seemed to care."
Blaise exhaled slowly, shoulders slumping as though the weight of the room had settled squarely on him.
"I told her the truth because I felt she deserved to know, not just as my wife but as part of this… family."
His voice dropped, regret threading through it.
"But I hadn't anticipated how much it would unravel her. I thought knowing would bring her peace, but it only added fuel to the fire."
Draco remained unmoved, arms crossed, expression carved from stone as he leaned back slightly.
"I owe no explanations to anyone," he said. His tone was clipped, defensive, even as his eyes betrayed him for the briefest second when they met Hermione's.
The silence shattered as Ginny's voice rose, raw and trembling. "How can you possibly deny killing my brother?" Her words echoed through the room, a blade cutting through the collective pretenses they'd all tried to maintain. Her eyes blazed with a desperate plea, a fury that masked the deep hurt beneath. "You all talk about family, about loyalty. But you're all complicit in hiding the truth—each one of you!"
Hermione, who had been silent until now, flinched as Ginny's words struck a nerve. She held little Lysander in her lap, who slept peacefully, oblivious to the storm raging around him. Her hand moved to stroke his downy hair, her eyes a mask of tense restraint as she looked away, her composure cracking but barely held together.
Blaise took a deep breath, his gaze unwavering as he looked at his wife. "Baby girl, listen to me," he began, his voice gentle but firm. "I know Ron was your brother. I know you loved him, and you saw the best in him. But sometimes… sometimes the people we love aren't who we think they are."
Ginny's face twisted in a mix of disbelief and anger, a storm of emotions she was barely containing. "You're telling me my brother was a monster, just like that? Without giving me a reason to believe any of this?" Her voice was edged with defiance, but Blaise could see the hurt beneath.
Theo, who had been silently observing from the corner of the room, crossed his arms and let out a quiet sigh. "Ask Saint Potter, why he hadn't spoken to Ron in years," he said flatly, his voice devoid of emotion. "Ask him what Ron did to sever that bond. You might think we're biased, but ask him and see if you still think Ron was perfect."
Hermione shifted uncomfortably, her fingers nervously twining in her lap. She looked at Ginny, her expression one of sorrow rather than accusation. "Ginny… he was your brother, but he wasn't a saint. He was... complicated." Her voice wavered as she chose her words carefully, not wanting to wound Ginny but knowing she couldn't hide the truth anymore. "Ron… wasn't always the best partner. Notto me, not to anyone."
Ginny's face contorted in rage and disbelief, her voice rising to a scream that shattered the tense silence. "So that's your excuse? That's why you had him killed?"
The accusation hung in the air like poison, and for a moment, no one moved or spoke. But then Hermione's gaze sharpened, and a fire ignited in her eyes. "No one 'had him killed,' Ginny. He was abusive. Abusive, not only to me, but to every woman he ever claimed to care about. You can sit there and cling to this idealized memory of him, but that doesn't change what he did."
Her voice grew raw, each word cutting through Ginny's defenses like a knife. "How can you not see that? How can you be pregnant, ready to bring life into this world, and still look at all of us with so much contempt?"
Ginny's face fell, the fury draining from her expression as the reality of Hermione's words took root. For a moment, she looked like a lost child, and when she finally spoke, her voice was barely a whisper. "What… what did he do?"
Draco, who had been watching the exchange with barely contained frustration, softened as he saw the hurt and confusion in Ginny's eyes. Without a word, he scooted closer to her, his hand reaching out to grasp hers in silent support.
Hermione took a shaky breath, her voice dropping as she began to reveal the painful truth she had kept hidden for so long. "He… he was cruel, Ginny. Manipulative. It wasn't just me, but all the women he was with. He controlled us, belittled us. And when we tried to stand up for ourselves, he'd… make us pay for it. Have you never noticed Lavender's bruises? The excuses she made for her 'clumsiness'? How she pulled away from everyone who tried to get close?" Hermione's voice cracked, her pain visible as she relived the trauma. "I can't count the times I covered up my own bruises. Made excuses to myself and to others. And I kept thinking, 'This is my fault. Maybe I'm just too difficult, maybe I just don't understand him.' But it wasn't my fault, Ginny. It wasn't any of ours."
The weight of Hermione's confession hung heavy in the room, and Ginny staggered, the ground beneath her feeling as though it had been ripped away. Her hands trembled, her vision blurring with tears, and with a strangled sob, she turned and stumbled toward the door. The room was silent as they heard the heavy slam, the sound of her footsteps echoing as she fled from the truth.
In the stillness that followed, Hermione slumped back, her face a mask of pain and exhaustion. She pressed a hand to her forehead, her voice breaking as she murmured, "I wondered for a long time what my life could have been if I'd healed, instead of just coping with things that were never my fault."
Her voice was barely audible, her words tumbling out like a confession. "And then… I found Draco. The true Draco. The one who saw me, not the broken pieces, but the person I was beneath all that pain."
Draco's face softened, and without hesitation, he reached out, taking Hermione's hand in his own. "Darling, you don't have to wonder anymore," he whispered, his voice filled with a quiet intensity. "None of this was ever your fault. You are brave, Hermione. Stronger than anyone in this room." He squeezed her hand, his thumb gently brushing over her knuckles as he offered her the comfort and support she had so long been denied.
Theo, who had been silent, let out a quiet sigh as he looked around the room. "We all carry our own scars," he said, his voice uncharacteristically solemn. "Some of us bear them on the inside, some on the outside. But they're all a part of us, part of this… family we've chosen. And right now, Ginny's carrying more than she can bear alone. She'll need time, but she'll come back to us. We just have to be ready when she does."
Blaise nodded, his expression grave. "Ginny's world just shattered, and it's going to take her time to rebuild. But she's not alone. We're here for her, whether she realizes it yet or not."
Lady stirred from her spot by Hermione's feet, snuffling softly and resting her head on Hermione's lap, as if sensing the pain in the room. Hermione smiled faintly, stroking the dog's soft fur as she took a deep breath, letting the comfort of her friends wash over her.
"I think that's the point," Hermione whispered. "Found family. People who stay, even when it's hard. Even when everything feels impossible."
Pansy, who had been silent until now, looked around at each of them, her gaze fierce yet compassionate. "We all have our sins, our regrets. But it doesn't make us unworthy of love. We've all made mistakes, and we'll probably make a thousand more. But this family… we chose each other. And that means something."
The room fell into a contemplative silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts, their own wounds. But in that quiet, something shifted—a bond that, though bruised and tested, held firm. For the first time, it felt like they could heal. Together.
And somewhere beyond the closed door, Ginny walked, her thoughts swirling like a tempest, but her heart still bound to the family waiting inside, ready to catch her when she fell.
~~~~~~
The journey home from Pansy's mansion passed in silence. The Floo hissed softly as the flames settled, the only other sound the faint crack of his knuckles as his grip tightened around her hand. Anger still simmered in him from the intervention, sharp and unresolved, yet something colder sat beneath it. A quiet alertness. A sense that trust had shifted, just enough to matter.
When they stepped into their home, she kept hold of his hand. She did not release it even as she sealed the Floo and reinforced the wards, her movements quick and precise, driven by urgency rather than routine. The house responded, magic settling into place. It felt less like a refuge and more like a barrier, something built to keep the world out.
He watched her as she worked. The slight tremble in her fingers. The way she controlled her breathing, slow and deliberate. The silence stretched until it became impossible to ignore. Then she turned to him.
"I want you to take an oath," she said quietly.
He answered without pause. "Yes, darling."
She blinked, caught off guard. "You are not going to ask why?"
His expression softened, something close to a smile touching his mouth. "Why would I?" he said. "You have never asked for something without reason. I trust you."
Her breath stuttered. For the first time since the attack, her shoulders eased a fraction. He always did this. Met her fear without question. Made space for it without hesitation.
Her fingers brushed his cheek, barely there, carrying more weight than words. "I need this, Theo," she said. "After what happened with Ginny. After how close it came." She swallowed. "I need certainty. I need to know we are protected. That no one will ever do that to us again."
His jaw tightened as he cupped her face, thumb warm against her skin. "No one will touch us," he said. "No one will hurt you or Lysander. Not while I am alive."
She held his gaze, fear giving way to resolve.
"Then swear it," she said. "Swear it in blood. An unbreakable vow."
He went still. Just for a moment. He had expected commitment. He had expected magic. What she was asking for carried no margin for failure.
Her request was final. Permanent. A line that could never be uncrossed.
She caught the flicker of surprise in his eyes and stepped closer, her hands clutching the front of his shirt, almost pleading. "I need to know that no one will ever come between us," she said, her voice unsteady but fierce. "That their mistakes, their betrayals, their pasts will never touch our family." She drew a shaky breath. "That whatever happens, you will protect us. You will protect Lysander. You will never let anyone else's darkness bleed into our home."
He studied her for a long moment, searching her face as if weighing the true depth of what she was asking. The man he used to be might have paused. He might have tried to argue, to remind her that magic could not control every outcome.
The man standing in front of her now understood something different. He understood that trust was rare, costly, and worth guarding with his life.
His hand lifted, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering at the nape of her neck, steadying her. "Then let us do it," he murmured, certainty grounding every word. "We will make this vow, and it will be the last time you ever worry about anyone coming between us."
Her shoulders sagged in relief, though her grip on him remained firm, as if she needed the promise to exist in flesh before it lived in magic. He tilted his head and leaned in, softer now, his lips barely touching hers as he whispered, "And when the time comes, my love, they will regret ever making you feel this way."
Luna closed her eyes and exhaled slowly before resting her forehead against his. "I know."
The drawing room glowed softly, chandelier light reflecting off polished mahogany and bathing her skin in gold. In that moment, Luna seemed carved from moonlight and magic, delicate and unyielding all at once. Without speaking, she led him to the center of the room, their fingers intertwined, and guided him down with her. The air felt charged, heavy with something ancient and waiting.
Her wand lay beside them, catching the light, as if it understood what was coming. The space around them felt hushed, expectant.
She tightened her grip on his hands, her touch cool and steady, her eyes locked on his. When she spoke, her voice was quiet but unbreakable. "Will you promise to protect us, Theo?" Each word landed with care. "To be our shield, and our blade if needed? To put our family above everything else, whatever the cost?"
His pulse thundered, driven by the weight of her faith in him. She was asking for more than protection. She was asking for devotion that eclipsed all else, for loyalty deeper than blood, for certainty that nothing could tear them apart.
"I swear it," he said, his voice calm and absolute. "On my life and my soul, I will protect you and Lysander. Whatever it takes. Whoever I have to become."
As the words left him, a thin thread of silver magic unfurled from her wand and wrapped around their joined hands, glowing faintly as it tightened. It pulsed gently, alive, responding to the vow.
Luna's eyes shone, softened by something deeper than relief. The magic felt it, acknowledged it, strengthened it.
She inhaled sharply, her fingers tightening around his. "Promise me," she said more quietly now, vulnerability slipping through. "Promise that you will never let anyone, even those we once loved, hurt us. That if anyone ever becomes a threat, you will act. That you will never let us be taken from each other."
He did not hesitate.
"I swear, Luna," he said, his voice dark with finality. "No one will hurt you. No one will touch our son. I will do whatever is required, for you, for us. You have my word."
The magic surged brighter, binding tighter around their hands as the room trembled slightly, the oath settling into permanence. The glow slid along his wrist and sank into his skin, leaving a faint mark behind, a quiet reminder of a vow sealed in magic and blood. When the light faded, the presence of it remained, humming through him as they stayed there together, the weight of what they had chosen settling around them, intimate and irrevocable.
Theo exhaled slowly and reached for her, his hand sliding up her arm, following the gentle curve of her neck before settling at her jaw. He drew her closer until their foreheads touched, his breath warm against her lips, steady and grounding.
"Thank you," she whispered, the tension easing from her shoulders as she finally let herself believe him. "I know it may sound drastic, but after everything that's happened, I needed to know we are safe. I needed to know that nothing can reach what we have built here."
His fingers tipped her chin upward, and though his expression stayed composed, his eyes carried a promise that needed no words. "You never have to explain," he murmured as he pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her forehead. "I would have made that vow again and again if it meant keeping you and Lysander safe. I would burn the world to the ground without hesitation."
She released a shaky breath, her fingers brushing the faint mark on his wrist where the vow still glimmered softly. "Theo, if anything ever happened to you, if someone took you from me…" Her voice faltered before she could finish the thought.
His grip tightened at once, firm and unyielding. "They will not," he said, his voice sharp with certainty. "Anyone who tried would face everything I am. And even if the impossible happened, I would find my way back to you. There is nothing that could keep me from coming home."
Her breath caught as she clutched his shirt and pressed her face into the curve of his neck, drawing comfort from his warmth, from the steady truth of him. The vow had been sealed with magic, but it was this, the way he held her as if she were the axis of his world, that made safety feel real.
His hands framed her face, thumbs brushing away the tears she had not noticed falling. "No more fear, my moonbeam," he whispered, his lips grazing hers, gentle and sure. "No more doubt. Nothing will come between us."
She nodded against him, her fingers curling around his wrist, feeling the quiet pulse of magic beneath his skin. The weight of everything that had led them here should have crushed her, yet instead it felt like release, like finally setting something down after carrying it for too long.
For the first time since the attack, her breath came easily. For the first time in days, she felt beyond reach. And for the first time in what felt like forever, she knew with complete certainty that nothing in this world, or any other, would ever tear them apart.
~~~~~~
Luna lingered in the doorway, a soft smile spreading across her face as she watched Theo and Lysander together. Morning sunlight spilled through the windows, laying a warm, golden wash across the room and catching on every quiet movement between them.
Theo, hair still mussed with sleep and his shirt creased from the night, sat cross legged on the floor. He held one of Lysander's small, dimpled hands while guiding a plush dragon through the air. Each exaggerated roar drew a gurgle of delight from their son, whose wide eyes tracked the toy with complete devotion.
Her chest tightened with love as she took them in. This was her life now, delicate and astonishing, something she once believed existed only for other people. She could have stood there for hours, watching the way Theo's focus never wavered from their child, the tenderness in his face carrying a quiet reverence that still caught her off guard. There was a depth to his devotion that had unfolded since Lysander's arrival, fierce in its protectiveness and gentle in its care.
She noticed everything. His laughter stayed low and warm as he murmured nonsense meant only for their son. Lysander reached up with clumsy fingers, patting Theo's cheek with complete trust, his joy simple and unguarded. For a fleeting moment, she felt like a witness to something rare and sacred, and then the thought settled fully. This was hers. They were hers.
After a few minutes, Theo glanced up and caught her watching. His face softened into a smile meant only for her. "Good morning, gorgeous," he said quietly, as though raising his voice might disturb the calm wrapped around them.
"Good morning, my loves," she replied as she stepped closer, her gaze never leaving his.
Lysander noticed her at once and squealed, arms stretching toward her in urgent excitement. She laughed under her breath and lowered herself to the floor beside them, gathering him against her chest and pressing a kiss to his warm cheek. Theo shifted closer and slipped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her into his side with an ease that felt instinctive.
"I woke up early and couldn't resist stealing some time with him," he murmured, kissing the crown of her head. His fingers traced slow, reassuring patterns along her arm, and she leaned into the touch, feeling more settled there than anywhere else in the world.
"You're both the perfect thing to wake up to," she said softly, resting her head against his shoulder while Lysander babbled happily between them. Her eyes stayed on their son, taking in the contentment written across his small face.
Theo's attention moved from Lysander back to her, his expression thoughtful and open. "I love this," he said quietly. "These mornings, these small moments. I never imagined my life would look like this."
She lifted her hand and brushed a lock of hair away from his forehead, her smile gentle. "Neither did I," she admitted. "It's more than I ever hoped for."
They stayed that way for a while, wrapped around each other, the room filled with the soft sounds of morning and the comfort of being together. Luna felt a swell of affection for the man beside her, for the father he had become, steady and devoted in ways that still made her heart ache.
She shifted slightly and met his gaze, a spark of excitement lighting her eyes. "My love," she said, her voice carrying a new confidence, "I want another baby."
He went very still as the words settled. Then he was on his feet in an instant, joy breaking across his face so openly that it made her laugh. He looked as though she had just handed him the world.
"Yes," he breathed, almost overwhelmed. "Oh, gods, yes." He took her hands and pulled her up, his grin wide and unguarded. "I've been hoping you would say that. I didn't want to rush you, but I think about it every day."
"You do?" she asked, her cheeks warming as she took in his excitement.
"All the time," he said, running a hand through his hair as if trying to contain himself. "Every time I see you with Lysander, every time I hold him and watch him change, I imagine doing it again. Giving him a brother or a sister. Growing this life we've built."
His arms wrapped around her, drawing her close until she could feel the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her cheek. She leaned into him, letting the joy settle fully, knowing in that moment that whatever came next, they would meet it together.
He lifted her chin so she had no choice but to meet his eyes. "You mean it?" he asked, his voice softer now, almost careful, as if he was afraid the moment might slip away if he touched it too hard. "You're ready to do this again?"
She nodded without hesitation, her expression steady and full. "Yes, Sunny. I want this with you. I want to give Lysander a sibling. I want to keep building this life we started and let it grow into something even bigger. I want all of it."
His laugh broke free, low and warm, filling the room in a way that made her chest ache. He kissed her deeply, unhurried and full of promise, then pulled back just far enough to look at her again. "You have no idea what you've just done to me," he whispered. "You've made me so happy. We'll do this together. Every step. I swear it."
As if on cue, Lysander let out a small, curious coo, his wide eyes moving between them. Theo crouched and scooped him up easily, settling him against his hip with practiced care.
"What do you think, little man?" he asked softly, brushing his nose against Lysander's cheek. "Would you like a little brother or sister to boss around?"
Lysander responded by grabbing his father's nose with both hands, utterly unaware of the meaning of the question and delighted anyway. She laughed, reaching out to smooth a hand over her son's hair, her mind already drifting toward images of two children racing through the garden, tangled together in laughter and mischief.
Theo looked back at her, his happiness still written plainly across his face. "We'll have to think about everything," he said, already half planning. "Where the nursery goes. How we help Lysander adjust. How we do this right."
She smiled and stepped closer, resting her hand against his chest. "We will. Just not yet. Let's stay right here for a bit. Just us, holding the idea, before we turn it into plans."
He nodded, pressing a kiss to her temple, then another to her forehead, like he couldn't quite stop himself. They stayed that way through the morning, talking in soft voices and sharing half formed dreams about what their family might become. Every so often, he pulled her close again, murmuring something affectionate into her ear, as if the joy inside him had nowhere else to go.
All the while, Lysander watched them with solemn curiosity, his gaze flicking back and forth as though he sensed something important had shifted. And in the quiet warmth of that moment, with sunlight on the floor and love settling deep into the walls, it felt like the beginning of something new.