SUN & MOON - Luna & Theo (HP)

She was approaching her due date faster than she had anticipated, and with each passing day, she found herself growing more restless, more irritable, and undeniably more fed up with everything and everyone around her—including, most frustratingly, herself. The early stages of pregnancy had been tolerable, even joyful at times, as she reveled in the newness of it all—the tiny kicks, the flutter of excitement when she imagined holding her child for the first time, the warmth of Blaise's hand resting protectively on her belly. But now, as the final stretch loomed large, those fleeting moments of joy were overshadowed by an unrelenting sense of discomfort.

To be honest, she hated the end of her pregnancy. She hated how everything seemed like a monumental task, how simple things she had once taken for granted—like bending down to pick up something she dropped or standing in the shower without feeling like she might topple over—had now become nearly impossible. The weight of her growing belly made even the most basic activities feel like an uphill battle. And as much as she loved him, she was increasingly exasperated by his constant presence. He was, quite literally, glued to her side, hovering with the kind of anxious energy that might have been endearing under different circumstances but now only served to fray her already fragile nerves.

"Babe, I'm pregnant, not made of glass," she snapped one afternoon when he tried—yet again—to help her up from the couch before she was ready. His hands immediately recoiled, but the wounded look in his eyes made her feel guilty. She knew he meant well, but in her current state, even kindness felt suffocating.

He wasn't just attentive—he was obsessive, as though her every move needed to be monitored and managed to prevent disaster. If she tried to reach for something on a high shelf, he was there in an instant, arms outstretched like she might collapse at any second. If she so much as sighed heavily, he was already asking if she needed water, food, or another pillow. She loved him deeply, but right now, his overprotectiveness was driving her mad.

"I'm fine," she repeated for what felt like the hundredth time that day. "You don't have to hover over me like some kind of nervous dragon guarding a treasure hoard."

He gave her a sheepish smile but didn't budge. "You're my treasure, cuore mio," he murmured, wrapping an arm around her waist despite her grumbling protests.

Her frustration wasn't just with Blaise, though. She was fed up with herself too. The heaviness of her body, the constant aching in her back, the swollen ankles that made her feel like she was dragging around weights—it all added up to a kind of fatigue she couldn't seem to shake. She longed for the days when she could move freely, when standing in the shower didn't feel like an Olympic event, and when tying her shoes didn't require his assistance and a great deal of patience.

Showering, in particular, had become a source of irritation. It wasn't just the physical challenge of standing for too long or balancing herself on legs that didn't feel quite steady—it was the loss of independence that stung the most. She hated that she needed Blaise's help to step in and out of the tub safely, hated that something as mundane as washing her hair now felt like an ordeal. And of course, Blaise insisted on being nearby whenever she bathed, just in case she needed him. His hovering presence outside the bathroom door was both comforting and maddening.

"Blaise, for the love of Merlin, can you please give me five minutes alone?" she had groaned one evening, exasperated by his refusal to leave her side even for a moment.

"I'm just here in case you slip," he had replied, his voice calm but unwavering.

"I won't slip. And if I do, I'll scream loud enough for you to hear from the other side of the flat!" she shot back, only half-joking.

But no matter how much she grumbled or snapped at him, he never wavered in his devotion. And deep down, though she would never admit it out loud, there was a part of her that appreciated his constant presence. Because even though it drove her crazy, it also made her feel safe in a way that few things could.

Still, as the days dragged on and the due date loomed closer, she couldn't help but feel trapped—trapped in her own body, trapped by her emotions, and trapped by the overwhelming anticipation of what was to come. She knew she was being irrational, that Blaise's overprotectiveness came from a place of love, but it didn't make it any easier to bear. She just wanted it to be over already, to hold her child in her arms instead of carrying this heavy, aching weight around with her everywhere she went.

One night, as she lay in bed, unable to find a comfortable position no matter how many pillows she piled around her, she felt Blaise's hand rest gently on her belly. She turned her head to glare at him, ready to tell him off for being too close again, but the look on his face stopped her. He wasn't watching her—he was watching their child, his eyes filled with a quiet reverence that made her breath catch in her throat.

"I know you're fed up," he whispered, his voice low and tender. "But you're amazing. You're bringing our child into the world, and I can't stop worrying because I love you more than anything. So, yeah, I'm annoying, and I'll probably keep being annoying, but… thank you. For carrying him. For doing this."

And just like that, all her irritation melted away, leaving only the warmth of his love and the bittersweet ache of anticipation. She didn't say anything in response—words felt inadequate in that moment. Instead, she took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together as they waited for the day when their lives would change forever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day arrived without fanfare, but she felt it before she fully registered what was happening. She woke up feeling… off. Not in the usual way she had been feeling for weeks—this was something different. It wasn't just the weight of her belly or the familiar ache in her lower back. No, this was a deep, almost primal discomfort that settled low in her abdomen, radiating outwards in dull, rhythmic waves.

By the time she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, a sharp cramp had her pausing mid-motion, gripping the sheets tightly as she tried to breathe through it. Blaise, who had been dozing lightly beside her, stirred at once, his senses finely tuned to her every movement these days.

"Cuore mio?" His voice was thick with sleep but laced with concern as he sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Are you okay?"

She didn't answer immediately. She took a slow, deliberate breath, placing a hand on her belly as she tried to gauge whether this was the real thing or just another false alarm. For weeks, she had endured bouts of Braxton Hicks contractions—tightenings that were uncomfortable but irregular, and ultimately useless when it came to actual labor. But this… this felt different.

"I don't know," she admitted finally, her voice tense. "I just feel… horrific."

He was on his feet in an instant, his usual calm replaced by a barely restrained nervous energy. He hovered near her, unsure whether to help her stand or give her space. She shot him a warning look—she wasn't in the mood for his hovering today.

"I'm fine," she muttered, though the truth was far from that. She didn't want to admit it yet, didn't want to say aloud that this might actually be the day. Saying it made it real, and real meant facing the unknown—something that filled her with equal parts excitement and fear.

She shuffled toward the bathroom, determined to start her day as normally as possible. Maybe a warm shower would help ease the discomfort. But as she stood under the stream of water, letting it cascade over her aching back, another wave of pain hit her, this one sharper and more insistent. She leaned forward, bracing herself against the cool tiles, and breathed through it, counting in her head as Luna had taught her during one of their many "you're-going-to-be-fine" pep talks.

When she emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, Blaise was waiting for her, his expression equal parts worried and hopeful. He held out a glass of water, which she accepted with a grateful nod. "How bad is it?" he asked gently, watching her closely.

She hesitated. "It's different," she admitted. "More intense." She didn't miss the way his eyes widened slightly, his grip tightening around his phone as though he was ready to call everyone they knew at a moment's notice.

"Don't you dare panic on me," she warned, giving him a pointed look. "It might still be hours. Or nothing. Just… stay calm, okay?"

He nodded quickly, though the tension in his jaw suggested he was anything but calm.

Hours later, everything came to a head when her water broke. It happened without warning—a sudden rush that had her gasping and gripping his arm tightly.

"Blaise," she hissed through clenched teeth, her eyes wide. "My water just broke."

He froze for a second, staring at her as if trying to comprehend what she'd just said. Then, as realization dawned, panic hit him like a tidal wave. His breaths came faster, his hands trembled, and before Ginny could stop him, he was spinning toward the fireplace.

"I—uh—Floo! I need help!" he stammered as he grabbed a handful of Floo powder with a shaking hand and flung it into the flames. Green fire roared to life, and with it, he bellowed, "Pansy! Luna! Help me! Ginny's in labor, and I'm going to die!" His voice rose an octave as he fumbled through his words, completely losing his usually composed demeanor.

Pansyand Luna just settled comfortably into the sofa with her feet up, let out an exasperated groan and slapped her hand to her forehead. "Oh, for fucks sake," she muttered, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Really? At a time like this?"

He paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, running his hands through his hair in frustration. His heart pounded in his chest, and despite her repeated assurances that they had time, he couldn't seem to stop himself from spiraling. Every groan, every wince she made felt like a ticking clock counting down to something he wasn't ready for.

"Blaise," she snapped, her voice sharp despite the discomfort she was clearly in. "Stop panicking. You're not the one in labor."

"I know, I know," he muttered, pausing mid-step before resuming his pacing again. "But what if something goes wrong? What if—"

"Nothing's going wrong," she interrupted, her tone exasperated. "I've got this. What I don't have is the patience to deal with your dramatics right now."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Luna and Pansy finally arrived at the Zabini residence, they expected to find a scene of utter chaos—somehow, that's always how these things go when Blaise is involved. However, what they found was Ginny, sitting calmly on the couch, sipping tea and looking like she was in no rush at all. There was no sign of panic, no wild-eyed Blaise running around in a frenzy. In fact, she seemed perfectly fine, which was both a relief and, frankly, a bit of a letdown.

Luna walked into the room with a concerned frown. "Ginny, are you okay?" she asked gently, her eyes scanning the room for any signs of distress.

She looked up from her cup with a small, relaxed smile. "Yes, I'm fine," she replied with an ease that could only come from someone who had already weathered a few storms in her life. "My water broke, but there's no need to panic. We're just packing to go to St. Mungo's." She patted her belly reassuringly, clearly unbothered by the impending arrival of her baby. "No big deal."

Pansy, who had been mentally preparing herself for a scene out of a dramatic, high-stakes childbirth movie, blinked in disbelief. She turned to Ginny and then to the staircase, where she could faintly hear Blaise's frantic voice in the distance. "I swear, Ginny, I'm going to kill him," Pansy muttered, her hand resting on her hip as she crossed the room toward the couch. "This is supposed to be the most dramatic moment of his life, and what does he do? He freaks out like a bloody child."

Meanwhile, upstairs in the master bedroom, he paced back and forth, muttering to himself in a mixture of English and rapid Italian. He had already changed shirts twice, convinced he needed something "appropriate" for the hospital, and was now frantically rifling through a drawer for… something. He wasn't even sure what anymore.

"This is happening. This is really happening," he muttered under his breath, his hands shaking as he tried to tie and untie the same shoelace over and over. "I'm not ready. We're not ready. What if something goes wrong?"

"Zabini!"

He whirled around to see Pansy standing in the doorway, her arms crossed and an unimpressed expression on her face.

"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded. "Ginny's downstairs, calmly waiting to go to the hospital, and you're up here having a full-blown crisis."

"I—" he opened his mouth to defend himself but found he had no real argument. Instead, he groaned, running a hand through his hair. "I just… I don't know, Pansy! This is huge. What if I mess this up?"

Pansy sighed, walking over and gripping his shoulders firmly. "Blaise, listen to me. You're not going to mess this up. You're going to be fine. Ginny's going to be fine. The baby's going to be fine. You just need to breathe and get your act together, alright?"

He nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. "Alright. Yeah. I can do this."

"Good," she said, releasing him. "Now, grab the bloody bag, get downstairs, and stop acting like the world's ending. You're about to become a father, not face Azkaban."

Ginny chuckled softly at Luna, shaking her head with a knowing smile. "He's just scared," she explained, rolling her eyes playfully. "You know what he's like. He acts tough, but when it comes to big life changes, he's all nerves and no spine."

Luna, who had been quietly observing the interaction with a gentle smile, added in her usual serene tone, "Well, it's understandable. The anticipation of a baby arriving is a bit overwhelming for everyone involved. Even for those who act like they have everything under control."

Pansy gave a short, dry laugh, clearly unimpressed by Ginny's calm demeanor. "Understandable? That's rich. He's in there throwing a fit like we're about to face a Dark Lord. Meanwhile, here you are, looking like you're about to host a tea party."

She shot her a mischievous grin. "I've had a lot of practice at this," she said, her voice teasing. "It's not the first time I've had to deal with a panicking Zabini." She looked down at her growing belly and patted it affectionately. "Besides, I have more important things to focus on. Like making sure we don't forget the baby bag."

Pansy crossed her arms, shaking her head with mock indignation. "Oh, I get it. You're handling this like a pro while Blaise plays the damsel in distress, and I'm supposed to just accept it? No, no, no. I'm going in there to remind him how to be a man during childbirth. A little bit of calm wouldn't hurt."

Luna couldn't help but laugh at the exchange. "Well, if anyone can bring order to the chaos, it's definitely you, Pansy," she said, her voice filled with genuine amusement. "But I think Ginny's got everything under control. You can always yell at Blaise later."

Ginny, still sipping her tea, winked at Pansy. "You know, Pansy, it might actually be better if you just let him off the hook this time. After all, he is going to be a father in a few hours, and I have a feeling that might be a bigger shock to his system than any of us expect."

Pansy rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress the smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "Fine," she conceded with mock reluctance. "But only because you're both so damn calm about this whole thing. If it were up to me, I'd have him in a corner with a stiff drink, begging for forgiveness."

Luna clapped her hands together in that way she had when she was clearly happy with the way things were going. "Well, let's not keep him waiting then. I think it's time to give Blaise the good news that his wife is completely unbothered by the whole ordeal. That should help with his nerves."

Ginny's smile grew wider as she set down her tea. "Oh, it'll help—until he sees me in labor. Then I'm sure his nerves will return tenfold."

Pansy grinned, turning toward the stairs. "Well, in that case, let's go deliver the message that might just save him from his own meltdown. It's only fair that someone gets to have a calm moment in this circus."

By the time Blaise returned downstairs, Ginny was standing by the door, her coat on, ready to go. Blaise immediately rushed to her side, taking her hand as if she might collapse at any second.

"I'm okay, Blaise," she said with a smile, squeezing his hand. "Now let's go have a baby."

And with that, they Flooed to St. Mungo's, ready—or not—for the next chapter of their lives.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time they arrived at St. Mungo's, the atmosphere around Blaise had shifted so drastically that it felt as though they had entered an entirely different universe. Gone was the jittery man on the verge of hyperventilating, the one who had spent the last few hours alternating between pacing and babbling nervously about worst-case scenarios. In his place was someone… formidable.

Blaise Zabini, now cloaked in the aura of a man on a high-stakes mission, strode through the hospital doors as though he were leading an elite team on a covert operation. His posture was rigid, his expression carved from stone, and his eyes scanned every inch of the bustling hospital with calculated intensity. Every step he took seemed to echo with authority, and those in his path instinctively moved aside, sensing that Blaise Zabini was not a man to be trifled with today.

"Where's maternity?" he barked at the receptionist before she could even ask for their names. The poor witch behind the desk blinked up at him, momentarily frozen by the sheer force of his presence.

"M-Maternity ward is on the third floor, sir. You'll need to—"

"We don't need to do anything except get there," he cut in sharply, already turning toward the lifts. "Come on, keep up," he added, glancing over his shoulder at Pansy, Luna, and Ginny, who followed at a more leisurely pace.

Pansy raised a brow as she exchanged a look with Luna. "Well, this is new," she muttered. "I didn't realize impending fatherhood turned Blaise into a deranged drill sergeant."

"I'm not deranged," he snapped without looking back. "I'm prepared. There's a difference."

"Sure," Pansy drawled. "Let's go with that." She leaned toward Luna and whispered, "I give it ten minutes before he tries to interrogate a nurse about their qualifications."

When they reached the third floor, Blaise stepped out of the lift first, immediately zeroing in on a passing healer. His voice was sharp, clipped, and entirely too loud for the peaceful environment of the maternity ward. "You there—healer. I want the best room you have available, preferably one with charm-reinforced walls. None of that flimsy privacy curtain nonsense. And make sure there's a fully stocked potions cabinet. We're not taking chances."

The healer blinked, looking momentarily bewildered before nodding slowly. "Uh… yes, sir. We'll… make sure everything is up to standard."

"Good," he said curtly, already scanning the corridor for their assigned room. "And find someone to double-check the charms on the bed. I don't want my wife lying on something that might malfunction halfway through labor."

Pansy's jaw dropped as she watched him stride ahead, barking out orders like he owned the place. "Merlin's saggy pants, he's serious," she whispered to Luna. "I thought he'd calm down once we got here, but this… this is next level."

Luna gave a serene smile as she glided along beside Pansy. "Blaise has always had… a flair for control," she said softly. "It's how he handles things when he's scared. He can't control what's happening with Ginny, but he can control the environment around her. It makes him feel useful."

"Useful?" Pansy echoed incredulously. "He looks like he's about to start giving lectures on obstetrics." She paused, watching as Blaise cornered a cleaning crew near the end of the hall. "Oh, this should be good."

"Cleaning staff!" he barked, causing the two witches and a wizard holding enchanted mops to flinch. "You're going to sanitize that room from top to bottom, and I mean to perfection. I don't want a speck of dust or a lingering charm that hasn't been refreshed in the last twenty-four hours. My wife is about to give birth, and I expect nothing less than immaculate conditions. If I walk in there and so much as smell a trace of stale air, you'll be answering to me."

The cleaning crew exchanged uneasy glances before hurrying off to do as they were told, muttering nervously among themselves.

"Blaise," Ginny called from behind him, her tone calm but firm. She was still clutching her belly as another mild contraction passed, but she didn't look remotely as frazzled as her husband. "You need to stop terrorizing the staff. They're here to help, not to audition for a military squad."

He turned on his heel, his eyes wide with something akin to righteous indignation. "They're here to ensure your safety," he retorted. "I won't have any mistakes or subpar preparation. This is your first labor, Luce dei miei occhi. Do you know how many things can go wrong during a first birth? Blood pressure spikes, miscast spells, potions not brewed properly—"

"Vita mia," Ginny interrupted, holding up a hand. "Breathe. You're spiraling."

"I'm not spiraling," he snapped, though his twitching left eye suggested otherwise. "I'm being thorough."

Pansy snickered quietly behind her hand. "Thorough. Sure. That's definitely the word I'd use for this level of madness."

Before he could respond, a nurse approached, clipboard in hand. "Mrs. Zabini? Your room is ready. If you'll follow me—"

"We'll follow you," he said immediately, cutting her off as he stepped forward protectively. "And make sure that IV drip is set correctly. None of this automatic charm nonsense—I want manual regulation, and I want the best healer on duty assigned to this delivery."

The nurse opened her mouth to respond but was silenced by the intensity of his glare. She gave a stiff nod and quickly turned on her heel, leading the group toward their room.

"Are you always like this during high-pressure situations?" Pansy whispered as they walked.

"Only when it matters," he muttered, not breaking stride. "This is my wife and my child we're talking about. Excuse me for wanting things done right."

"You know what's funny?" Pansy said with a smirk. "You're acting like you're the one about to go into labor."

Blaise shot her a withering glare but said nothing, instead focusing his attention on Ginny as she carefully lowered herself onto the hospital bed with Luna's help. For a brief moment, his expression softened, and the tension in his shoulders eased ever so slightly.

"Better?" Ginny asked, raising a brow at her husband's sudden shift in demeanor.

"Almost," he replied, stepping closer and gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Now that you're settled, maybe I can relax… a little."

"Good," Ginny said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Because if you keep acting like a deranged warlord, I'll have to ban you from the delivery room."

Pansy snorted loudly, while Luna simply smiled, ever the picture of calm. "Well," Pansy said with a grin, "at least this will be a birth to remember."

He sighed, muttering something about ungrateful friends under his breath, but he didn't argue. After all, this was only the beginning—and knowing Blaise, he was prepared to keep barking orders until the baby was safely in their arms.

The moment they entered Ginny's room, it was as though the world outside ceased to exist. His sharp eyes scanned every inch of the room, from the glimmering charms on the walls to the sterile equipment beside the bed. He was silent at first, his entire demeanor radiating tension, but the second his gaze landed on Ginny, something in him shifted. His stiff shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, and the hard edge in his expression melted into something tender—loving.

"Everything okay, my love?" he asked, stepping toward her with uncharacteristic gentleness. He reached for her hand, his thumb brushing soothing circles over her knuckles. His voice was softer now, though beneath that warmth was still the steely determination of a man ready to do whatever it took to protect her.

Ginny, reclining comfortably on the birthing bed, gave him a tired but affectionate smile. "Yes, love. Everything's fine," she said with calm assurance. "We're just waiting for things to get interesting." Her tone was light, teasing even, but there was a flicker of appreciation in her eyes as she watched him fuss over her.

He didn't seem entirely convinced. He gave her hand a brief squeeze before turning his attention back to the room, his expression hardening once more. "Good," he murmured, though his mind was clearly already moving on to the next item on his mental checklist. Without missing a beat, he rounded on the nearest nurse with the intensity of a man who thought he was briefing a team before battle.

"Is the birthing bed at the correct angle?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing critically. "I've read up on optimal positioning for labor. This—" he gestured to the bed as though it were a malfunctioning piece of machinery, "—had better be perfect. I'm not leaving anything to chance."

The nurse blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the sheer force of his presence. "Er… yes, sir. The angle is correct," she replied hesitantly, glancing at Ginny for reassurance.

"Amore," Ginny said, exasperation mingling with amusement. "Relax. You're acting like we're storming a fortress. I've done this before. Trust me, it's not that complicated."

But he wasn't listening. He had already moved on, his eyes darting toward the bedside monitor with suspicion, as though it might betray them at any moment. He leaned in, studying the readings, muttering something under his breath about spell calibration and mana fluctuations.

Ginny sighed, her lips quirking into a wry smile. "I swear, if he doesn't calm down soon, he's going to stress himself into early labor." She glanced at Pansy, who was leaning casually against the wall, thoroughly entertained by Blaise's antics. "I think he might actually believe he's the one giving birth."

"Oh, he definitely does," Pansy agreed, crossing her arms with a smirk. "You should've seen him on the way here—he was giving orders like we were on a bloody battlefield. I half-expected him to demand a security escort."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Blaise's sharp eyes zeroed in on the maternity ward manager as soon as they entered the room. A man in his late forties, wearing pristine healer robes, stood by the nurse's station, flipping through patient charts with practiced efficiency. The moment Blaise strode toward him, purposeful and exuding barely restrained menace, the manager stiffened, sensing trouble before a word had even been spoken.

"Mr. Zabini!" the manager greeted with forced politeness, offering a weak smile as Blaise approached. "Is there anything I can assist you with? I assure you, your wife is in excellent hands. We—"

Blaise held up a hand, silencing him with a gesture so controlled it felt more like a command. His dark eyes gleamed dangerously, and though his expression remained outwardly calm, there was a tension coiled beneath the surface, like a predator sizing up its prey.

"Listen closely," Blaise said in a voice so quiet it demanded attention. He leaned in slightly, his posture casual yet somehow predatory. "My wife is about to give birth, which means this is the single most important day of my life. I expect everything to go flawlessly. And when I say flawlessly, I mean there isn't room for so much as a misplaced breath in this entire ward."

The manager blinked, unsure whether Blaise was serious or simply a husband overly concerned about his wife's wellbeing. "Of course, Mr. Zabini. We adhere to the highest standards here at St. Mungo's—"

"I don't care about your 'standards,'" he interrupted, his voice low but carrying a weight that made the hairs on the back of the manager's neck stand up. "I care about results. If there's even the slightest mistake—if a nurse fumbles a potion, if a charm flickers for a second too long, or if someone so much as sneezes at the wrong moment—you'll find that your… position here becomes very temporary."

The manager's forced smile faltered, his fingers tightening around the clipboard he held. "I—I can assure you, Mr. Zabini, our staff is highly trained. There's no reason for concern."

Blaise gave a slow, deliberate nod, his expression unreadable. "Good. I'm glad we understand each other." He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a small velvet pouch, the unmistakable jingle of galleons ringing out as he handed it over. "This is for… ensuring priority care. I trust you'll see to it personally."

The manager hesitated, glancing down at the pouch before quickly pocketing it with a muttered, "Thank you, sir. I—uh—appreciate your generosity."

He wasn't finished. He stepped closer, lowering his voice to a near whisper, his eyes locking onto the manager's with an intensity that sent a chill down the man's spine. "One more thing. If anything goes wrong, and I mean anything, you won't be answering to hospital administrators. You'll be answering to me. And trust me when I say, my methods of… discipline are a bit more creative than filing a complaint."

For emphasis, he shifted his coat slightly, revealing the gleaming handle of a dagger tucked neatly at his side. It wasn't an overt threat—it didn't need to be. The mere sight of the weapon, combined with his reputation, was enough to send the message loud and clear.

The manager paled visibly, swallowing hard. "Understood, Mr. Zabini. We'll—uh—we'll ensure everything is perfect."

His lips curved into a cold, satisfied smile. "Good. I knew you'd see things my way."

Just as he turned to leave, the manager found his voice again, though it trembled slightly. "Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?"

Blaise paused, glancing over his shoulder with a faint smirk. "Yes. Make sure the tea you send up is fresh. My wife deserves the best."

With that, he turned on his heel and strode back toward Ginny's room, leaving the manager frozen in place, clutching his clipboard like a lifeline. It wasn't until Blaise had disappeared down the corridor that the man exhaled shakily, muttering something about preferring dragons to Zabinis.

Back in the room, Pansy and Luna had clearly witnessed the entire exchange from the doorway, judging by the identical grins plastered across their faces.

"Did you just threaten the maternity ward manager with a knife?" Pansy asked, raising a brow in amused disbelief. "Honestly, Zabini, I think that might be a bit much, even for you."

"It wasn't a threat," he said smoothly, settling back into the chair beside Ginny. "It was… encouragement."

"Encouragement," she repeated, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Right. And I suppose flashing your knife was just your way of saying 'thank you for your service.'"

He ignored her, turning his full attention back to Ginny, who was watching him with a mixture of exasperation and affection. He reached for her hand again, his thumb brushing over her knuckles as he leaned in close.

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly, his voice devoid of the icy tone it had carried moments before. Here, with her, he was no longer the cold, calculating hitman—he was just a man in love, desperate to do everything right.

Ginny smiled, her fingers curling around his. "Better now," she admitted, her voice warm. "Even if you did just terrify half the staff."

"They'll thank me later when everything goes perfectly," Blaise said, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. "And if they don't… well, they'll still have all their limbs, so I'd call that a win."

Luna leaned over to Pansy, whispering with a grin, "You have to admit, he's committed."

"Oh, he's committed all right," Pansy muttered, shaking her head. "Committed to making this the most dramatic birth in wizarding history. I almost feel sorry for the poor staff. Almost."

Ginny chuckled softly, squeezing Blaise's hand. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"I'm yours," he replied, his voice low and sincere. "And that makes it worth it."

Pansy groaned loudly. "Oh, Merlin. If you two start getting all sappy on top of this, I'm going to need a coffee."

Luna smiled serenely. "I think it's sweet. Besides, I'm sure the staff will recover… eventually."

As the time drew closer, tension hung thick in the air, every second dragging like an eternity. The early stages of labor had been exhausting enough, but now Ginny was entering the critical phase—the pushing stage. Blaise had been uncharacteristically quiet for the past hour, focused entirely on Ginny's every movement and expression, as if he could will the pain away by sheer force of determination.

By now, Pansy and Luna had retreated back to the Zabini residence at Blaise's insistence. They had offered to stay, of course, but Blaise wasn't having any distractions—not when his wife was about to give birth to their first child.

"Go," he had said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I've got this."

Pansy had smirked, whispering to Luna, "He's got this? More like he's one scream away from fainting."

But they'd left, trusting Blaise to do what he always did: take control of the situation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now it was just Blaise, Ginny, and the medical team. The once overly confident hitman was out of his depth, but he refused to show it. He stood at Ginny's side, his fingers intertwined with hers, squeezing just enough to remind her that he was there.

"You're doing amazing," he murmured, leaning down to kiss her sweat-drenched forehead. His voice was softer now, stripped of its usual bravado. "Just keep breathing, love. We're almost there."

She let out a strangled groan, clutching his hand in a grip that could have crushed bones. "Easy for you to say," she gasped between labored breaths. "You're not the one pushing a human out of your body!"

He chuckled, though his heart ached seeing her in so much pain. "True. But if I could, you know I would, right?"

She gave him a weak glare, followed by a breathless laugh. "You're full of it, Zabini."

"I'm full of love for you," he corrected, brushing a stray strand of red hair from her face. "Now focus, my fierce lioness. You've got this."

The healer monitoring her progress cleared her throat. "Mrs. Zabini, it's time to start pushing. On the next contraction, I need you to give it everything you've got."

She nodded, though her expression was a mixture of exhaustion and determination. The room fell into an anticipatory hush, broken only by the steady beeping of magical monitors and the faint hum of charms being cast around them.

The next contraction hit like a tidal wave. Her body tensed, and she let out a low, guttural cry as she bore down, gripping Blaise's hand like a lifeline. He leaned closer, whispering words of encouragement in her ear, his free hand stroking her hair.

"That's it, amore. You're doing so well. Just a little more."

But as the minutes dragged on, the tension in the room thickened. The healer exchanged a worried glance with one of the nurses. Blaise noticed instantly. His eyes narrowed, the calm exterior beginning to crack.

"What's wrong?" he demanded, his voice sharp enough to cut through the thick atmosphere.

"It's… nothing serious," the healer replied quickly, though her tone betrayed her unease. "We just need her to push harder—"

"She's exhausted," he snapped. "Find another way."

"We're doing everything we can—"

"No, you're not," he growled. Without breaking eye contact, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a sleek, black firearm. He placed it on the table beside him with a deliberate clink that echoed ominously in the quiet room.

The staff collectively froze, their eyes darting between the gun and Blaise's cold, calculating expression.

"I assume," he said in a dangerously low voice, "that none of you want anything to go wrong here. So, you're going to help my wife finish this as quickly and safely as possible. Am I clear?"

The healer swallowed hard, nodding vigorously. "Yes, Mr. Zabini. Of course."

He turned back to Ginny, his expression softening instantly. He bent down to kiss her cheek, his voice gentle again. "You're so close, love. Just one more push. I'm right here."

Ginny, despite the pain, couldn't help but laugh weakly. "Did… did you just threaten the medical staff?"

"Only lightly," he murmured, pressing another kiss to her temple. "Now, focus. We're almost there."

Encouraged by his unwavering presence and the renewed energy of the medical team—who were suddenly working with remarkable speed and efficiency—Ginny summoned every last bit of strength she had left.

The final contraction came, and Ginny gave one last, mighty push. A sharp cry filled the room moments later, cutting through the tension like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

"It's a boy!" the healer announced, her voice tinged with relief and joy as she lifted the squalling newborn for the parents to see.

Ginny collapsed back against the pillows, tears streaming down her face, equal parts exhaustion and elation. Blaise stared at the tiny, wriggling form in awe, his usually cold and composed demeanor dissolving into something unrecognizably tender.

"He's perfect," she whispered, reaching out to touch her son's tiny hand.

Blaise, still holding her hand, leaned down and kissed her deeply. "You were incredible," he murmured against her lips. "Absolutely incredible."

The healer handed the baby to Ginny, who cradled him against her chest, tears continuing to fall as she stared at her son. Blaise leaned in, wrapping an arm around both of them, his usually sharp gaze now softened by love.

"What should we call him?" Ginny asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Blaise smiled, his eyes never leaving his son's face. "Valerius. Our strong little warrior."

Ginny nodded, the name settling perfectly in her heart. "Valerius Zabini," she whispered, kissing her son's forehead. "Welcome to the world."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Blaise Zabini had always been a man of composure—stoic, cold, and calculating in most situations. But not today. Today, the carefully maintained mask he wore had shattered into a thousand irreparable pieces. He had spent the past few hours oscillating between crying uncontrollably, pacing the room with frenetic energy, and gazing at his newborn son with the kind of reverence usually reserved for divine miracles.

Ginny lay in bed, exhausted but glowing with a happiness that no words could capture. She watched Blaise, her lips curling into an affectionate smile as he made another lap around the room, one hand tugging at his hair while the other held a tissue he hadn't even realized was now shredded beyond recognition.

"Dolce metà," she called softly, beckoning him over with a tired wave of her hand.

He immediately stopped pacing and crossed the room in three long strides, his expression full of concern. "Are you alright? Do you need more water? Should I call the healer? Are you too hot? Too cold?"

She chuckled weakly. "I'm fine, Blaise. I just… I've never seen you like this before."

He blinked, wiping the tears from his face hastily, as though embarrassed by his emotional display. "I'm sorry. I just—he's perfect, Gin. Absolutely perfect. And you… you're incredible. How did you do that?" His voice cracked slightly as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. "I swear, I'll never take you for granted again."

She smirked. "Good. Because I fully intend to milk this for the rest of our lives."

He chuckled through the remnants of his tears, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. He reached out and gently touched Valerius's tiny hand, his fingers trembling slightly. The baby responded with a little twitch, and Blaise looked like he might start crying again.

"Alright," she said with mock exasperation. "If you start bawling again, I'm calling Pansy to drag you out of here."

As if on cue, the Floo flared to life in the corner of the room, and moments later, Theo, Neville, Luna, and Pansy stepped through in quick succession.

Theo was the first to speak, grinning broadly as he surveyed the scene. "Well, would you look at that. Blaise Zabini, the ruthless assassin, reduced to a puddle of emotions. Never thought I'd see the day."

Blaise shot him a withering glare, though it lacked its usual venom. "Say one more word, Nott, and I'll ensure your next mission involves chasing pixies through the Forbidden Forest."

Theo raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. "Hey, no judgment. I think it's adorable."

Pansy swept forward and leaned over Ginny with a mischievous smirk. "How are you holding up, Red? You look like you've been through hell."

She snorted. "That's because I have. But at least I have this little guy to show for it." She tilted the baby slightly so Pansy could get a better look.

"Oh, he's gorgeous," Pansy breathed, her eyes softening as she gazed at the tiny bundle. "Good job. And Blaise, well done on not fainting. I had my doubts."

Luna floated over to the other side of the bed, her usual serene smile in place. "He has Ginny's nose," she said dreamily. "And Blaise's serious little brow. He looks like he's already plotting his first adventure."

Neville, who had been standing quietly at the back, finally stepped forward, his face lighting up as he got a glimpse of the baby. "Congratulations, you two. He's perfect."

"Thank you, Neville," Ginny said warmly. She glanced at Blaise, who was still staring at Valerius as if he couldn't quite believe he was real. "Blaise, do you want to… you know, let them hold him?"

Blaise's eyes snapped up, alarmed. "What? No. He's too tiny. What if they drop him?"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, Blaise. We're not going to drop him. Give him here."

"No," Blaise said firmly, holding Valerius a little closer. "He's fragile."

Theo burst out laughing. "Mate, you've handled cursed artifacts with less care than that baby. Hand him over. We'd like to meet the newest Zabini."

Reluctantly, and only after Ginny shot him a pointed look, Blaise stood and very carefully transferred Valerius into Pansy's waiting arms. She cradled him expertly, her sharp features softening into something almost maternal.

"Hello, little Valerius," Pansy cooed, her usual sarcasm replaced by genuine warmth. "Welcome to the madhouse. Don't worry—we'll make sure your dad doesn't turn you into a mini-assassin too soon."

Blaise crossed his arms, watching like a hawk. "Support his head properly, Pansy."

"I am supporting his head," Pansy shot back, rolling her eyes. "Relax. He's fine."

Luna leaned over to tickle Valerius's tiny fingers, her expression full of wonder. "He has such a strong aura. He's going to be a very special child."

Theo leaned in next, peering at the baby with a grin. "Well, he's already got Zabini's brooding intensity. Poor kid."

Neville, ever the peacemaker, smiled kindly at Blaise. "You'll be a great dad, Blaise. You're already doing amazing."

Blaise didn't respond immediately. He just stood there, watching his friends coo over his son, a strange mixture of pride and anxiety swirling in his chest. Finally, he exhaled and muttered, "Thanks, Longbottom."

Pansy handed Valerius back to Blaise, who took him with the utmost care, as if handling the most precious thing in the world—which, to him, he was.

"Well," Pansy said, clapping her hands together. "Now that we've all met the heir to the Zabini empire, who's up for drinks? I think Ginny deserves something strong after all that."

"I'll settle for pumpkin juice," Ginny said with a tired laugh. "But go ahead. Celebrate for me."

As the group began discussing plans for a celebratory gathering, Blaise sat down beside Ginny, holding Valerius close. He leaned over and kissed her cheek softly.

"Thank you," he whispered. "For everything."

Ginny smiled, resting her head against his shoulder. "We did it together."

Blaise looked down at his son, his heart swelling with emotions he never thought himself capable of feeling. For once in his life, he didn't care about appearances, missions, or the opinions of others. All that mattered was here, in his arms.

And as laughter filled the room, Blaise knew that this was just the beginning of a new adventure—one far more dangerous and rewarding than any he'd ever faced before. For the first time in his life, he felt completely unguarded, vulnerable in a way that didn't terrify him but instead filled him with a strange kind of joy.

Ginny shifted slightly in the bed, drawing everyone's attention. Despite her exhaustion, there was something weighing heavily on her mind. She glanced over at Theo, hesitating for a moment before finally speaking.

"Theo…" Ginny began, her voice soft but clear. "Can you… perhaps go over to… you know, to Hermione? To tell her."

The lighthearted atmosphere of the room dimmed slightly as everyone registered her words. Theo, who had been leaning casually against the wall with his hands in his pockets, straightened up, his usual easygoing expression replaced by something more serious.

"Of course, Red," he said gently, his voice lacking its usual teasing tone. "So… you're still not talking to each other?"

She sighed, closing her eyes for a brief moment before opening them again. There was a flicker of sadness in her gaze, one that hadn't been there a moment ago. "Please, Theo. Don't make this harder than it should be… I need my best friend more than life."

There was a beat of silence as everyone processed the raw honesty in herwords. Theo's expression softened, and he nodded once, a silent promise in his gesture.

"I'm going, Red," he said quietly. "Don't worry."

Without another word, Theo stepped away from the group, giving Blaise a quick nod before turning on his heel and disapparating with a soft pop.

As the sound faded, the room grew quieter. Everyone exchanged glances, the weight of Ginny's request lingering in the air. Luna was the first to break the silence, her voice calm and soothing as always.

"I think it's time for us to leave," she said, offering Ginny a serene smile. "We'll visit you and Val tomorrow, okay?"

Ginny smiled back, grateful for Luna's gentle understanding. "That will be lovely. Thank you, Luna."

Neville stepped forward next, his warm, steady presence offering silent reassurance. He bent slightly, giving Ginny a soft, one-armed hug so as not to disturb the baby resting in Blaise's arms. "We love you, Ginny. You did amazing today."

Ginny's eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she managed to keep her composure. "Thank you, Nev. I love all of you too."

Pansy, who had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the exchange, finally spoke up as she adjusted her coat with a dramatic flair. "Well, this has been a surprisingly emotional day, even for me," she said, her tone light but not without affection. "See you guys."

Blaise gave her a curt nod, though his lips twitched in what might have been the hint of a smile. "Try not to cause too much trouble on your way out, Parkinson."

She winked at him. "No promises."

With that, the group began to filter out, leaving Blaise, Ginny, and Valerius alone once more. The silence that followed wasn't heavy or uncomfortable—it was peaceful, a moment of calm after the storm.

Blaise sat down beside Ginny, still cradling Valerius in his arms. He looked down at his son, his heart swelling with an overwhelming mix of love, pride, and something he couldn't quite put into words.

"She'll come, you know," Blaise said quietly after a moment, his eyes still on the baby. "Hermione. She cares about you too much to stay away."

"I hope so," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I just… I don't want to do this without her, Blaise. She's always been there for me, through everything."

"And she'll be there for this too," he assured her, his voice steady and certain. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her temple, his free hand finding hers and giving it a gentle squeeze. "You've got me, and soon enough, you'll have her too."

She leaned into him, closing her eyes as the weight of the day finally began to settle over her. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "For being here. For everything."

Blaise didn't respond with words. Instead, he shifted Valerius slightly so that Ginny could see him better, their hands still intertwined as they gazed down at their son together. And in that quiet, precious moment, surrounded by nothing but love and the promise of new beginnings, they both knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together—as a family.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They approached the reception desk at St. Mungo's, their footsteps heavy, each aware of the silent weight that lingered between them. The nurse behind the desk barely looked up as she shuffled through her paperwork, but when her eyes met Draco's, he spoke first, his calm tone belying the undercurrent of tension.

"Excuse me," he said, his voice even, but there was a sharp edge of something that Hermione couldn't quite place. "We're here to see Ginny Weasley-Zabini. She just had a baby."

The nurse's smile was warm, perhaps a little too warm, like someone who didn't quite notice the storm hovering just under the surface. She nodded briskly, gesturing down a long hallway. "Congratulations to the family," she said, her voice cheery, too cheery. "She's in Room 312. Just follow the signs."

Her heart began to race. She could feel the weight of the moment press in on her—the years of friendship, the falling out, the harsh words, the silence. This wasn't just about meeting Ginny's baby. It was about something far heavier, far more complex.

As they walked down the quiet, sterile corridor, the sound of their footsteps felt almost deafening, echoing in the empty hall like the countdown to something inevitable. Draco's presence beside her was steady, but even he seemed to sense the tension that was building between them. He didn't speak, but his eyes flickered to her every now and then, the unspoken question hanging in the air—would Hermione forgive Ginny?

She kept her gaze forward, but her mind was a battlefield. She couldn't stop replaying the argument they'd had, the things they'd both said, the way their friendship had shattered so suddenly, so violently. She wasn't sure what to expect when they walked through that door. Would Ginny greet her with warmth? Or with cold, wounded silence?

As they reached Room 312, Draco slowed his steps. He hesitated for a moment before turning to her, his voice quieter than usual. "You ready?"

The question wasn't just about meeting the baby—it was about everything that had come before. Everything that had built to this moment. Hermione felt the weight of it all pressing down on her chest. She swallowed hard, nodding, though her throat felt dry.

"This is it," she whispered, her hand trembling slightly as she reached for the doorframe. She pressed it lightly, as if trying to steady herself, to hold her composure together for what was coming next.

Draco didn't answer right away, his eyes scanning her face, noting the faint tremor in her fingers, the faint sheen of sweat at her brow. But then, as though sensing her need for space, he nodded and stepped aside. "Let's go meet the newest member of the Weasley family," he said, but his voice was more than just comforting—it was brimming with an understanding that had been earned over the years, an understanding of just how much this moment meant to her.

"Hermione... You're here," Ginny's voice was warm, but there was something guarded in it. Her smile remained, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. Hermione's stomach twisted.

Hermione's chest constricted as she moved forward, her hands trembling as she reached out to take Ginny's hand. "Of course I'm here, my love," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but full of meaning.

Blaise, sitting on the sofa, appeared utterly overwhelmed. His face was streaked with tears, his usually composed demeanor shattered. He had been fighting back emotions since the moment his son was born, and it was clear he was struggling to regain his usual control. His hands trembled as he wiped his face, attempting to steady himself after having fainted earlier. When he looked up at Hermione and Draco, his smile was shaky, the joy and the exhaustion mixing in his expression.

"I'm just so… moved," Blaise said softly, his voice cracking slightly as he spoke. His words trembled with the weight of everything he was feeling. It was a raw vulnerability that most never saw from Blaise Zabini.

Draco, always attuned to his friends' unspoken emotions, gave Blaise a sympathetic look. His gaze softened, his usual steely reserve melting into something more understanding. "Are you alright, mate?" he asked, his voice quiet, the concern genuine.

Blaise managed a shallow breath, trying to pull himself together, though his voice still wavered. "Just a bit faint from all the excitement," he admitted, a rueful smile tugging at his lips as he fought to regain composure. "It's been an overwhelming day."

Hermione stepped closer, her eyes flicking between Blaise and the room around them. She could feel the intensity of the moment—the raw emotion in the air—but she didn't know what to say. There were no perfect words in a situation like this. They were all just learning to navigate this new chapter, one step at a time.

Clearly lying. The big scary hitman couldn't handle the whole ordeal.

Draco, sensing the need for a shift, looked back toward Ginny, his voice soft but with that familiar charm. "Can we come in?" he asked gently, giving her a warm, inviting smile.

Ginny, still propped up in bed with a tired but satisfied expression, nodded, her face lighting up with affection. "Of course," she said, her smile widening as she gestured toward them. There was a moment of warmth in her eyes as she met Hermione's gaze, but it was brief—fleeting, like the first signs of thawing ice.

They stepped into the room, their excitement palpable despite the tense undercurrents still lingering in the air. The room was a strange mix of serenity and quiet tension, with the soft hum of hospital machinery in the background and the gentle murmur of congratulations filling the space.

Her gaze immediately shifted to the crib beside Ginny's bed. Her heart swelled as she saw the tiny, swaddled bundle inside, so delicate and perfect in his sleep. It was almost surreal. A new life, so small, so vulnerable, and yet so full of promise. This was Ginny's son, her first child, and it filled Hermione's chest with an unspoken joy.

Draco, too, couldn't seem to tear his gaze away. He approached the crib, bending down slightly to get a better look at the little one. His voice softened, a rare tenderness in his words. "He's perfect, Ginny," he said, his gaze lingering on the tiny bundle, now fast asleep. "Valerius Zabini. What a noble, historical name. It suits him."

Ginny, still watching her son with a pride that made her eyes glisten with emotion, nodded. "Valerius," she said, her voice quiet but filled with a deep sense of love. "It means 'strong,' 'healthy,' a name with roots in history. It felt right for him."

Blaise's eyes shone with a quiet pride, his face lighting up as he watched them interact with his son. There was something in the way Ginny spoke that made his heart ache with both joy and protectiveness. This child was his legacy, the beginning of something new, and the weight of it was not lost on him. It was a name that carried power and history—a name that would one day be remembered.

Hermione, who had been standing quietly, absorbed the scene. She looked at Ginny and Blaise, both glowing in their new roles as parents. The room felt peaceful in its own way, but there was still a distance between them all—a space filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension. But for now, it was enough to be here, in this moment.

As Draco looked back at them, a soft smile played on his lips. "I think Valerius is going to do great things. You've done well, both of you."

Ginny's tired smile was filled with pride. "I hope so. I hope he's everything we dreamed of."

Hermione stepped forward, her heart full of unspoken emotions. She reached out and touched Ginny's arm lightly, offering a small but heartfelt smile. "Congratulations, Ginny," she said, her voice warm with affection, despite the complexity of everything between them. "He's a blessing."

Ginny's smile flickered, her eyes momentarily darkening with something unreadable, but she nodded, giving a soft, strained smile in return. "Thank you, love."

Blaise's hand instinctively reached out to hers, his touch tender as he looked at their son once more. The day had been nothing like he'd expected—filled with surprises, fears, and joy in equal measure. But looking at his son, his family, there was nothing else he needed. In this moment, everything was right.

"Yeah, he's perfect," he murmured, his voice still thick with emotion, his eyes never leaving the crib. "Perfect."

And as they all stood in the room, looking at Valerius, the world outside seemed distant and irrelevant. In here, in this small room, everything was changing—and Blaise could already tell that the journey ahead would be unlike anything he'd ever faced before. But for once, he was ready. Ready for whatever came next, because now he had something worth fighting for.