SUN & MOON - Luna & Theo (HP)

He had one unwavering life goal: to make Luna as happy as he possibly could, to see her eyes light up with joy every day. But somewhere along the way, he'd failed her. His lies had shattered the trust that held their marriage together, leaving a chasm between them he feared he couldn't bridge. The regret weighed on him, gnawing at his heart, and he knew he had to find a way to make things right.

Determined to start mending the broken pieces, he made a decision. He'd take her out on a date—a real one, as if they were falling in love for the first time. He wanted to remind her of the moments that brought them together and show her, even with his flaws, how deeply he cared. He planned every detail, from the secluded garden filled with her favorite flowers to the candlelit table where they could sit, uninterrupted, and talk.

When he asked her to join him that evening, he could see the flicker of surprise in her eyes, a hint of hesitation as if she were unsure of what to expect. Still, she agreed, and as she stepped closer, her hand brushing lightly against his arm, he felt his heart race in his chest. This was his moment, the moment he could prove to her, once and for all, that despite everything that had happened between them, his love for her was as real and unwavering as it had always been. It had never wavered, not even for a moment.

He reached out and offered his arm to her, his voice a bit more fragile than he intended as he spoke. "My moon," he began, his eyes meeting hers with all the sincerity he could muster. "I have so many things to apologize to you for."

She smiled softly at him, her expression gentle but guarded. "Actually, you do," she said, her tone light but full of honesty. "But I'm not mad at you."

He swallowed, unsure how to respond, but the weight of her forgiveness settled in his chest. Her words brought him both relief and guilt. "Why are you such an angel?" he whispered, almost to himself, before looking at her with a mixture of admiration and self-deprecation. "I don't deserve you."

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze never leaving him. "As I've said many times before," she replied quietly, "you don't. But, unfortunately for everyone, you are intertwined in my soul. No one is going to rip you out of it."

Her words struck a chord deep within him. A quiet warmth filled him, a deep sense of connection that ran far beyond anything he had known before. She wasn't just speaking of love; she was speaking of something stronger, something unbreakable. His throat tightened, and his chest swelled with a feeling of both guilt and gratitude. He could feel the weight of her love, the same love that kept him going even when he faltered.

"I care about you," he finally managed to say, his voice thick with emotion. "Morning, noon, and night, I care about you. You are the only thing that keeps me going. The only thing that makes everything bearable."

She gazed at him with such intensity that it took his breath away. She stepped closer, her hand reaching out to gently cup his cheek. "Lux in tenebris amor," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper but full of meaning.

Theo's heart skipped a beat, hearing those words come from her. He nodded, the phrase resonating deep within him. "Exactly," he said softly. "Amor vincit omnia."

Her eyes softened at his words, a smile playing at the corners of her lips, and in that moment, the weight of everything that had come before melted away.

She kissed him hungrily, pouring every ounce of her love, her longing, and her desire into that kiss. Her lips were soft but insistent, her hands reaching up to tangle in his hair as if she could hold him close enough to never let go. It was as if the whole world had narrowed to just the two of them, and in that moment, she wanted nothing more than to show him the depth of her feelings—the warmth, the passion, the unspoken bond between them that had grown stronger with each passing day.

He didn't hesitate for a second. He returned the kiss with equal fervor, his hands sliding down her back, pulling her closer, as if he couldn't bear to be apart from her for a moment longer. His lips moved over hers, tasting her, savoring the sweet connection between them. His heart raced, his pulse quickening, and in the tangled mess of emotions and desire, there was a quiet understanding—this was their moment, and nothing else mattered.

Without breaking their kiss, he flicked his wrist and apparated them both to her favorite hill, the one nestled next to their manor, a place where they had shared countless moments of peace, away from the chaos of the world. The moment they arrived, she pulled back slightly, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she took in the breathtaking sight before her.

The hill was bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, casting long, golden shadows over the landscape. But what caught her attention most was the scene that had been carefully arranged for them. A table had been set up beneath a nearby tree, its surface adorned with delicate dishes and flickering candles. But it wasn't just the table that took her breath away—it was the ground beneath them. Flower petals, in every color imaginable, blanketed the earth like a soft, fragrant carpet. The air was rich with the scent of roses, jasmine, and lavender, their vibrant colors creating a vivid tapestry that seemed to stretch forever. Everywhere she looked, there were flowers—bluebells, daisies, lilies—each one a delicate whisper of nature's beauty, bringing life and vibrancy to the quiet hillside.

Hee heart swelled with emotion. She knew he had a deep, thoughtful side to him, but this… this was beyond anything she could have imagined. He had created this perfect, intimate world for them, a world where it was just the two of them and the beauty of nature surrounding them, as if to seal them in a timeless moment of peace and connection.

Her eyes filled with warmth as she turned to him. "Theo, this… this is beautiful," she whispered, her voice trembling with awe.

He smiled softly, his gaze never leaving hers. "Anything for you, my love," he said, his voice rich with emotion. "I wanted this day to be perfect for us."

He reached out, taking her hand in his, and led her to the table. The candles flickered in the gentle evening breeze, casting soft shadows that danced across the petals scattered around them. Everything about the setting was serene, peaceful, and intimate—a perfect reflection of the love that they shared.

He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her skin as if he were memorizing the feel of her. "You are everything to me," he said softly, his voice low and sincere. "I could search my whole life and never find anything as beautiful, as perfect as you."

She smiled, her heart soaring with the tenderness of his words. "I feel the same way," she whispered. "You're my heart, my soul. I never thought I could be this happy, but with you, I am."

He stepped back, his eyes filled with lust. "Turn around," he commanded. She complied, her heart pounding. He trailed kisses down her spine, his hands gripping her hips. He knelt down, his fingers hooking into her knickers and pulling them down.

She stepped out of them, her body trembling with anticipation. He spread her legs, his hands gripping her thighs. He leaned in, his tongue licking her folds slowly. She gasped, her hands gripping the table. His tongue explored her folds, his fingers joining in, stroking her clit.

She moaned, her body writhing under his touch. "Please."

He looked up, his eyes filled with desire. "You taste incredible."

He rose, the warmth of their anticipation simmering between them as he aligned himself with her, teasingly close. She arched back, urging him with a soft, eager push. He chuckled , hands tightening on her hips, holding her just on the edge. "Not so fast, love," he whispered, savoring every second.

But just then, the abrupt sound of Draco's voice echoed through the room—a summons for an emergency meeting. He groaned in frustration, running a hand through his hair.

"Fucking hell," he muttered, a hint of irritation flashing in his eyes. "Can't even enjoy a moment of peace with my favorite dessert."

She placed a calming hand on his arm, her eyes shining with understanding. "It's alright," she whispered with a gentle smile. "I'll come with you. We'll finish this later."

He nodded, a flicker of gratitude and desire still lingering in his gaze. "Later," he promised softly, his hand lingering on hers as they gathered themselves, ready to face whatever awaited.

~~~~~~

Hermione entered the study with determined strides, her eyes blazing with purpose as she crossed the threshold. The weight of what she was about to say gave her an intense air of resolve, her posture unyielding.

"Draco, I have a plan," she announced, her voice firm but calm.

He looked up from his work, the cool mask he often wore slipping just a bit as he took in her expression. Despite his visible affection, his tone remained steady, cautious. "Darling, you shouldn't be making plans about this. It's not your call," he said, his voice soft yet resolute. "I won't risk you."

Her resolve only hardened. "I'm not asking for permission," she replied, voice low but unwavering. "I'm telling you."

His jaw clenched, and he regarded her with a mixture of frustration and admiration. Before he could interrupt, she continued, her gaze fierce. "This isn't just about risk; it's about protecting what's ours. I can't sit idly by while you keep putting yourself on the line. I won't let you shoulder this alone."

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his temples. "This world is dangerous, love," he said, trying to mask the strain in his voice. "You don't belong in that darkness."

She met his gaze without flinching, eyes locked on his. "I'm already in it, Draco. I'm not just your wife—I'm your partner. Let me help."

He looked at her, and beneath the frustration was a glimmer of that fierce, determined spirit he had always been drawn to. "You won't back down, will you?" he asked, a note of resignation in his voice, though it was tinged with reluctant respect.

She shook her head. "No."

He sighed deeply, a mixture of exasperation and fondness. Before he could formulate another objection, she continued, voice steady and unshakable. "You brought this world to our doorstep the day you came home at death's door. So, I've made up my mind—I'm writing to Viktor. I'll invite myself over, and when the opportunity arises, I'll drug him. You can handle the rest."

He blinked, momentarily stunned by her audacity. "That is a terrible plan," he managed, the disbelief plain in his voice.

She lifted her chin, undeterred. "Did you have a better one? No? Then we're going with mine."

He stared at her, measuring her resolve, and let out a frustrated sigh. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"And you love me for it," she replied, a faint smile curving her lips, a mix of defiance and tenderness.

He couldn't help the warmth that spread through him. She was the only one who could look him in the eye like this, challenge him this way—and he did love her for it. Very much.

"Fine," he relented, straightening and steeling himself. "Let's call in the team."

Within minutes, Theo, Blaise, and—unexpectedly—Luna gathered in the sitting room, expressions ranging from curious to concerned.

She raised an eyebrow at the sight of Luna. "Luna, what are you doing here?"

Luna gave her a serene smile. "I was on a date with Theodore when the call came. Thought I'd lend my support."

Blaise frowned slightly, his gaze drifting over to Luna. "Luna, this isn't exactly your kind of thing. It's… delicate."

Luna's eyes glinted with a fierceness few had ever seen from her. "Don't be so sure, Blaise. We don't know each other as well as you think."

Blaise exchanged a glance with Theo, uncertain but unwilling to dismiss her. Theo gave a slight nod, silently affirming Luna's resolve.

"Alright then," he murmured, giving her a nod of respect. "Let's get down to business."

She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of her next words. "Here's the plan. Viktor knows about the marriage law, but he has no idea who I married. I'll invite myself over, and when the time is right, I'll slip something in his drink."

Theo leaned forward, a hint of a smirk on his face. "Granger, that's actually brilliant."

Draco, however, was far from convinced. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice strained. "No, it's reckless."

She met his eyes, unwavering. "Reckless? Perhaps. But do you have a better option? Because right now, this is the only plan we've got."

Luna perked up, her voice light but sincere. "I could go with Mimi. A girls' trip, as it were."

Theo's eyes darkened, his voice taking on an edge. "Absolutely not. It's far too dangerous, Luna. This isn't one of your mystical quests in the forest."

Luna met his gaze, her tone gentle but unyielding. "That's precisely why I should go, Theo. Two people are safer than one. And Viktor would never suspect a quiet healer and her friend."

Theo's hand tightened into a fist, his expression conflicted. "Because it's not just about suspicion, Luna. It's the danger. I can't allow you to put yourself at risk like that."

Hermione, sensing the tension, spoke up. "Theo, Luna was only offering—"

"I don't care," Theo cut her off, his voice gruff with emotion as he shot Draco a look of alarm, as if hoping he'd agree.

Luna simply smiled, unperturbed by Theo's sharp tone. "If you're that worried, I'll stay. But someone should go with her."

Blaise tilted his head thoughtfully, a smirk tugging at his lips. "What about Parkinson? She's had experience with… let's call them 'persuasive encounters.'"

Her brows furrowed. "Pansy? I hadn't considered her…"

"She knows how to handle herself," he added, his tone thoughtful. "And she'll do what's necessary without hesitation."

Theo's reluctant nod was all the agreement Hermione needed. "Alright. I'll ask Pansy to join me, and we'll be careful."

"Careful and quick," he amended, a flicker of pride in his gaze as he met her eyes, fully appreciating her tenacity. "This plan hinges on timing. No mistakes."

Hermione nodded, finally feeling the weight of their shared understanding. They'd face this danger side by side, whatever the cost—together, against the odds, bound by a love neither of them would let go of.

~~~~~~

Now, it was time to put the plan into motion. Pansy stood in front of the mirror, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement. The weight of the moment pressed down on her, and she just hoped that everything would go as smoothly as they had planned. Each detail mattered; failure was not an option. They had rehearsed every step, anticipated every obstacle, and now it was time to turn their plans into reality.

Together, Hermione and Pansy prepared meticulously, leaving nothing to chance. The atmosphere in Pansy's lavish mansion crackled with energy as they moved through the process with a fierce determination. Hermione bustled around, gathering the final ingredients and tools they needed for their mission, her focus sharp and unwavering. She had always been the more analytical of the two, and tonight was no exception. 

Meanwhile, Pansy stood in front of her vanity, carefully applying her makeup with practiced precision. She selected deep, sultry shades that accentuated her striking features—smoky eyes that hinted at mischief, and a bold red lip that demanded attention. As she layered on the makeup, she felt the adrenaline coursing through her veins, heightening her senses. 

Hermione joined her, a flurry of movement and purpose. Together, they transformed the room into a chaotic whirlwind of preparations. Pansy watched Hermione's hands as they deftly sorted through their supplies, arranging potions and tools with an expert's touch. The sight was oddly reassuring. Hermione's meticulousness countered Pansy's more impulsive nature, creating a balance that was crucial for the success of their plan.

As they moved through the evening's preparations, every moment felt charged with a heady mixture of anticipation and possibility. Hermione even took the time to shave everywhere, knowing that every detail counted for the mission. She moved with an elegance that was both practical and enchanting, the flick of her wrist and the glimmer of her skin a testament to the care they were putting into their appearance. Pansy admired Hermione's dedication; it was a reminder of the lengths they were willing to go to achieve their goals.

Finally, as they stood back to assess their efforts, both women looked stunning—strikingly sexy and confident, ready to play their parts flawlessly. Their outfits clung to their curves in all the right places, enhancing their natural allure while still exuding an air of sophistication. The fabric shimmered under the soft glow of the chandelier, reflecting their resolve to seize the night.

Pansy's heart raced as she admired their reflections in the mirror, a wave of empowerment washing over her. In that moment, she felt unbreakable, a force to be reckoned with. Hermione stood beside her, radiating a quiet strength, and together they looked like a pair of warriors ready for battle.

As they slipped into their heels, the sound echoed through the room, marking the transition from preparation to action. They exchanged knowing glances, a silent agreement passing between them that they were in this together, no matter the outcome. The stakes were high, but so was their determination. 

With one final glance in the mirror, Pansy adjusted a stray strand of hair and squared her shoulders. It was time to embrace their plan, to step out into the night and make it theirs. The world beyond the walls of her mansion awaited, a canvas for their ambitions. As they took a deep breath, the scent of jasmine and ambition filled the air, and they knew they were ready to make their mark.

Draco was waiting in the living room, his sharp gaze cutting through the dim light as he watched Hermione and Pansy enter. His expression tightened, and he felt a flash of irritation shoot through him. "You can't go out like that," he said, his voice tense, each word laced with concern. "You're barely wearing anything."

Pansy glanced at him, her lips curling into a smirk that radiated defiance. "Draco dear, mind your own business," she retorted, her tone light and unbothered. She was well aware of the effect she had on him and reveled in it, a subtle power play that only intensified his frustration. 

As if on cue, the atmosphere shifted with the arrival of Theo, Blaise, and Neville. The door swung open, and they stepped into the room, exuding an air of camaraderie that immediately lightened the mood. Neville's eyes immediately sought out Pansy, and a slow, genuine smile spread across his face as he took in her striking appearance. "You look delicious, my bloom," he said, pulling her into his arms with an ease that spoke volumes about their connection.

Draco, still agitated and unable to shake his protective instincts, gestured toward the two women. "Are you not outraged by how they look?!" His frustration hung in the air, the tension palpable as he struggled with his feelings of possessiveness.

Neville shook his head, unfazed by his distress. "I am not. Parky always looks sexy," he replied, his calm certainty cutting through the tension like a soothing balm. His eyes sparkled with admiration, making it clear he had no qualms about the outfit that had sparked his ire.Hermione, feeling the impatience building within her, stepped forward to take charge of the situation. "Enough of this. Everyone knows what to do." Her voice was firm, commanding attention as she sought to refocus the group's energy on the task at hand. 

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of the impending mission settling in. The seriousness of their purpose hung in the air like a thick fog, and they all understood the gravity of the moment. 

"We do," they answered in unison, their voices echoing with a sense of unity. Each of them was acutely aware of the stakes, their bond forged through shared experiences and the knowledge that they were stronger together. 

Pansy felt a surge of adrenaline course through her as they prepared to embark on their plan. She exchanged a quick glance with Neville, who gave her a reassuring nod, and she felt her confidence swell. They were ready to face whatever challenges awaited them, and as the anticipation hung thick in the air, she knew they would not back down. 

With the tension slowly dissipating, they began to strategize, the playful banter that usually accompanied their gatherings replaced by focused determination. Draco's earlier agitation melted away, replaced by a resolute sense of purpose as they set their sights on the task ahead. 

As they gathered in a tight circle, Hermione took the lead, her voice steady and clear as she outlined their plan. The camaraderie amongst them deepened, and in that moment, Pansy felt a flicker of hope that they would not only succeed but also emerge stronger than before. 

The evening's energy shifted once more as they prepared to step into the unknown, their hearts pounding in unison with the rhythm of their collective resolve. With one last glance at each other, they took a deep breath, knowing that together they could conquer whatever lay ahead. 

All that remained was the signal from the girls to launch the ambush.

~~~~~~

Before Hermione could protest, Viktor spun her around, crashing his lips against hers in a kiss that was rough, uninvited, and laced with a dark intensity. The taste of gin clung in the air between them, mingling with the bitter bite of fear that tightened her throat. She pushed against him, her hands braced against his chest, but his hold was relentless, possessive, pinning her in place as if she were a trophy to be claimed.

Her mind reeled, instincts firing as panic surged through her veins, sparking a desperate fury within her. She could feel his grip tighten, and every nerve screamed at her to escape. In a flash of desperation, her fingers scrambled to the charm bracelet on her wrist, her thumb pressing down on the emergency button, hammering it repeatedly as if her very life depended on it.

Each second dragged like hours, the weight of her fear almost paralyzing her. Then, a rush of black smoke filled the room, swirling like a dark tempest, and four shadowy figures materialized with a silent, menacing grace. They moved with the precision of predators, their faces obscured, yet the raw power in their presence was unmistakable.

One of the figures seized Viktor, yanking him back with a force that bordered on supernatural. Hermione staggered, her hands flying to her chest, breathless and shaken as she watched Viktor struggle, his earlier arrogance vanishing in a flash. The grip of the figure restraining him was like iron, leaving him completely subdued, his arms pinned uselessly to his sides.

"That was the last time you ever touched someone like that, Krum," one of the figures hissed, the voice low and venomous, cutting through the air with an icy chill. It was a voice she recognized, Draco's, though it was sharper, laced with an edge of pure fury.

Viktor, his eyes wide with shock, struggled to regain his composure, but before he could react, he was thrown forcefully against the wall. The impact was jarring, and Hermione felt a surge of vindication mixed with fear. He attempted to fight back, to summon the strength that had once made him a formidable opponent, but the figure's spell rendered him immobile, leaving him suspended in mid-air, powerless.

Time seemed to slow as Hermione watched in dazed disbelief. Her heart raced, not only from the adrenaline coursing through her but also from the relief that the immediate threat was being neutralized. It was happening. They were executing the plan, and she was finally free from Viktor's grasp.

With a swift motion, Draco levitated Viktor into the bedroom, his expression grim but focused. The door clicked shut behind them with an unsettling finality, ensuring their privacy as he removed the smoky mask that obscured his identity. Draco's eyes were fierce, a stark contrast to the turmoil of emotions swirling inside Hermione.

As silence enveloped the room, Neville glanced around, concern etched deep in his features. "Where's Pansy?" he asked, his voice low and tense, his eyes searching for any sign of her.

Hermione's heart sank momentarily as she realized they hadn't accounted for Pansy's whereabouts amidst the chaos. "She's in the bathroom," she replied quickly, urgency lacing her words.

Without another moment's hesitation, Neville moved silently toward the bathroom, his footsteps barely audible against the polished floor.

Dimitar hung upside down from the ceiling, his body a grotesque silhouette against the dim lighting of the room. Blood gushed from a deep gash that cut from his stomach to his neck, pooling ominously on the floor beneath him, where it mingled with the remnants of their chaotic night. His eyes, once filled with curiosity and charm, were now wide with shock and fear, struggling to comprehend the brutal turn of events.

The sight was horrific, a stark testament to the lengths they had gone to in order to execute their plan. Dimitar's breaths came in shallow gasps, the weight of his situation evident as he swayed slightly, his limbs contorted in a way that defied all logic. Each drop of blood that escaped him painted a picture of desperation, a chilling reminder of the violent undercurrents that had driven them all to this moment.

Neville stood frozen in the doorway, his heart racing and mind reeling from the gruesome scene before him. "Pans, this is… intense," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper, a mix of disbelief and admiration threading through his words. "But you've definitely outdone yourself."

Pansy gazed down at her dress with exaggerated dismay, her eyes widening dramatically as if she'd just discovered a shocking revelation. "Oh, for the love of all that's good! Look at my dress! Just look at it—utterly ruined!" With a flourish, she twirled around, showcasing the bloodstains splattered across the fabric like tragic art. "This was an exquisite piece, and now it's—well, it's a complete disaster!"

Neville, unable to contain his amusement, let out a chuckle. "Quite the opposite, bloom. I must say, I'm impressed."

Pansy threw her hands up in a theatrical gesture, her frustration spilling over. "Well, at least the job's done, but how could this happen? The color was perfect for tonight!" She let out an exaggerated sigh, her expression a melodramatic mix of frustration and mock grief. "I suppose I'll have to find a replacement. But you must admit, the stain adds a certain… character, doesn't it?"

Neville laughed, shaking his head at her flair for the dramatic. He stepped closer and took her hand gently, his touch warm and reassuring. "Let's get you cleaned up. The dress may be ruined, but you're still as radiant as ever."

Pansy looked at him, her expression softening slightly. "You really think so?" she asked, a hint of vulnerability breaking through her dramatic facade.

"Absolutely," he replied with sincerity. "No amount of blood can overshadow your shine."

Pansy rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. "Alright then, lead the way. I may be a disaster, but at least I'm a glamorous one!"

What the actual fuck.

An hour later, Draco emerged from the bedroom, his expression steeled with a deadly calm that sent a chill through the room. His clothes were slightly disheveled, and his face bore the hardened look of someone who had seen the darkest side of human nature—and had embraced it without hesitation. Every line on his face was taut, his eyes stormy with an intensity that brooked no argument or resistance.

As he crossed the room, he met Theo's gaze, the unspoken understanding between them tangible, forged by years of brotherhood and shared battles. Draco's voice, when he spoke, was low but unyielding, a blade cutting through the oppressive silence. "Nott," he commanded, his tone carrying a weight that was undeniable, "do your job. We're finished here."

Theo gave a single nod, his usual air of aloof confidence replaced by a dark sense of duty. The room felt charged, the tension thick as if the walls themselves held onto the echoes of the confrontation that had just taken place. A collective understanding passed through the group—there would be no going back from this, no undoing the line they had crossed tonight.

~~~~~~

Once they had settled in, the group gathered around the fireplace. The warmth of the flames created a stark contrast to the bitter coldness of the night's events. The crackling fire cast flickering shadows across their faces, illuminating the exhaustion etched into each of their features as they grappled with the weight of their actions. They were silent, words suspended in the air, as each absorbed what had just transpired, the gravity of it settling heavily on their shoulders.

Draco was the first to break the silence. His voice was steady, but a sharp tension threaded through it. "I still have no answers from Krum," he said, his tone edged with frustration and resolve. "We're actively searching for leads, but it seems he was clever enough to bury his tracks deeper than we anticipated."

Hermione's brow furrowed, and she opened her mouth to speak, concern flashing in her eyes, but Draco cut her off with a stern look. "Darling," he said, a note of finality in his voice, "you are not allowed to join us on any missions ever again."

"But Draco—" Hermione protested, her voice laced with desperation. She wanted to be part of this, to contribute, to prove that she could shoulder some of the weight, but Draco's eyes were unwavering, his resolve unbreakable.

"I said not again," he interrupted, his piercing gaze locking onto hers. There was a silent promise in his expression, a fierce determination to keep her safe, to ensure that she'd never face danger like this again. His tone softened, but the intensity remained. "You've been through enough already."

For a moment, they locked eyes in a battle of wills, but Hermione knew she couldn't argue with him on this. She nodded reluctantly, a quiet understanding passing between them.

The evening stretched on, and one by one, their friends departed, each leaving with a heavy heart and a mind full of unsettling memories. Blaise lingered the longest, his usual lighthearted demeanor subdued. He placed a hand on Draco's shoulder as a silent gesture of solidarity before he left, and with a final glance around the room, he disappeared into the night.

With the others gone, the house fell into a quiet stillness. The only sound was the crackle of the fire, a reminder of the chaos that had unfolded just hours before. Draco turned to Hermione, his expression softening as he looked at her.

"I owe you an apology," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I put you in harm's way, and I'll make sure it never happens again."

Hermione's gaze fell, a flicker of disappointment crossing her face. "I'm sorry that I didn't do a better job," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. She felt as though she'd let him down, that she'd failed to prove herself as capable as she had hoped.

Draco stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently tilt her chin up, his eyes warm and sincere. "Hermione," he said softly, his voice carrying a reassurance that eased the knots in her chest, "you were never meant to do a perfect job. This was your first time. What you did tonight was more than enough, and I'm grateful. I don't want to see you stressed or overwhelmed ever again, not because of me."

His words were like a balm to her soul, his reassurance wrapping around her like a protective shield. She nodded, the tension in her shoulders easing, and he opened his arms. Without hesitation, she stepped into his embrace, resting her head against his chest. The warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, melted the last of her fears away, and she felt a profound sense of safety in his arms.

They stood like that for a long while, wrapped in each other's presence, allowing the silence to fill the spaces where words couldn't reach. The fire continued to crackle softly beside them, casting a gentle glow over the room, as if sealing them off from the darkness outside.

~~~~~~

Theo Apparated home, landing soundlessly in the dimly lit entryway of Nott Manor. The scent of lavender and candle wax welcomed him like an embrace, a stark contrast to the cold, blood-tinged air of the mission he had just left behind. The adrenaline that had fueled him through the night drained away with his exhale, the weight of the outside world dissolving as he stepped into the only place that truly mattered.

In the living room, Luna paced with Lysander cradled in her arms, the soft glow of the fire casting flickering shadows across her face. Her delicate fingers traced soothing circles along their son's back, her movements quick, restless. She had been waiting, her mind a battlefield of worry, her heart suspended in the cruel limbo of not knowing.

The moment she heard the soft pop of his arrival, she stopped abruptly. Her head snapped up, her wide silver-blue eyes locking onto his. The relief that flooded her expression made his chest ache.

"Sunny," she whispered, the name escaping her lips like a breath she had been holding for hours.

"I'm here, my love," he reassured her gently, crossing the room in an instant. He pulled her into his arms, enveloping both her and their son in a protective embrace. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he let his lips linger there before tilting down to place another on Lysander's soft curls, inhaling the faint scent of baby lotion and warmth. This. This was his sanctuary, the only place where his soul felt at peace.

She clung to him, her free hand fisting the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring him in place. "You're alright?" she murmured, her voice tight with emotion. "Nothing happened?"

"Moonbeam," he whispered, brushing a thumb over the crease in her brow, his tone both soothing and resolute. "We've talked about this. I will always come back to you. I promise."

But her grip on his shirt didn't loosen. Her breath hitched as she glanced down at Lysander, who slept soundly against her chest, blissfully unaware of the weight pressing down on his mother. "I was so worried," she admitted, her voice trembling. "I kept imagining the worst… I don't know what I'd do if—"

He didn't let her finish. "Shh," he murmured, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. His thumb swept across her cheek, catching a tear before it could fall. "I'm here. Right here, love. And I'm not going anywhere. Not now, not ever."

Her lips trembled, but she nodded, pressing her forehead against his, breathing him in. "I know. It's just—" She swallowed hard, gathering herself. "Maybe if you sent me updates? Just a word, something to let me know you're alright?"

He sighed softly, guilt tugging at the edges of his resolve. He had always tried to shield her from the darker corners of his world, but in doing so, he had unknowingly left her stranded in uncertainty. "Of course," he promised without hesitation, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Anything to put your mind at ease."

Relief flickered in her gaze, though the worry hadn't completely faded. He could feel the remnants of her fear lingering, a silent plea she wasn't voicing. He held her closer, letting his touch speak where words failed. "I never want you to feel like this, Moonbeam. I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you know I'm always coming back."

She exhaled, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly as she melted into his warmth. He kissed the top of her head before shifting his gaze to their son. "Now," he murmured, his voice softer, "let's get you both to bed. It's been a long night."

With a small nod, she allowed him to take Lysander from her arms, her hands lingering for a moment as she reluctantly let go. He cradled their son against his chest, reveling in the tiny hand that instinctively curled around his finger, his small breaths steady and safe.

Together, they made their way upstairs, the quiet hum of the manor wrapping around them. In the nursery, Theo carefully laid Lysander down, brushing a gentle hand over his golden curls as the little boy shifted, his tiny fingers twitching in sleep. His heart clenched at the sight—so small, so innocent, untouched by the darkness his father had waded through for years.

Luna stepped closer, her arms wrapping around Theo's waist, her chin resting against his shoulder as they both watched their son. "He looks just like you," she whispered, her breath warm against his skin.

A smirk tugged at his lips. "Poor boy," he murmured, his voice teasing.

She swatted his arm lightly, but he could feel her smiling. "Handsome boy," she corrected, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "Just like his father."

Turning in her arms, he reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers as he guided her out of the nursery, shutting the door with a quiet click. Their bedroom was bathed in moonlight, silver beams spilling through the curtains, illuminating the space where they had built their life together. As soon as the door closed behind them, she reached for him, her hands finding their familiar place on his chest, her fingers tracing slow, absentminded patterns over the fabric of his shirt.

"You scared me," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

He cupped her face, his thumbs stroking the delicate curve of her cheek. "I know," he murmured, pressing his lips to her forehead, then her nose, before finally capturing her mouth in a kiss that tasted of reassurance and devotion. "And I'll spend forever making up for it."

She sighed into the kiss, her fingers gripping his shirt as she pressed herself closer. "I don't need you to make up for anything. I just need you."

His heart clenched, and he held her tighter, drinking in the warmth of her, the feel of her heartbeat thrumming against his. "Then I'm yours," he whispered, his lips brushing against her temple. "Completely. Always."

They sank into the bed together, limbs tangling beneath the covers, their breaths evening out in the quiet of the night. He stroked his fingers through her hair as she curled against his chest, her body fitting against his like she had always belonged there.

As sleep began to pull them under, he whispered one last promise against her skin. "No matter where I go, no matter what happens, I will always come back to you."

She hummed in contentment, her lips pressing a featherlight kiss to his collarbone. "And I'll always be here, waiting."

And in that moment, beneath the glow of the moon and the steady rhythm of her breathing, he knew there was nothing in the world that could ever pull him away from this—his home, his love, his everything.