By the time Luna and Theo arrived at the Parkinson estate, the manor already shimmered with the sort of energy that felt half celebration, half carefully orchestrated invasion.
Theo slowed slightly as they approached the front doors, one hand resting at the small of Luna's back, the other carrying a box that had begun humming faintly in protest at being jostled. Luna carried a tall potted plant in both arms, its leaves silver-edged and gently trembling as if it were whispering to itself about the social obligations ahead.
Through the tall windows, sunlight poured in thick ribbons across polished floors and gilded frames. Flowers filled every visible surface. Cream roses. Blush peonies. Hydrangeas so delicately tinted they looked like powdered sugar. Jasmine climbed the arches as though it had always belonged there. The air was heavy with perfume, sweet enough to taste.
Theo exhaled slowly.
"She's escalated," he murmured.
Luna tilted her head, watching a house elf dart past with a tray of crystal flutes. "It smells like a garden trying to impress the moon," she said thoughtfully. "I think Pansy is very happy."
"Pansy is at war with subtlety," Theo replied, though there was warmth under it.
Inside, the estate no longer resembled a family home. It resembled a carefully staged dream in silk and gold. Ribbons softened every corridor. Lanterns shaped like stars hovered near the ceiling. Somewhere deeper in the house, a string quartet tested a note that trembled into something gentle and nostalgic.
Theo's eyes swept the space automatically, taking in exits, staircases, the placement of champagne towers that looked one enthusiastic toddler away from catastrophe. He caught sight of Neville in the entry hall, sleeves rolled up, hair still damp, expression caught somewhere between awe and surrender.
"This is a lot," Neville was saying to Pansy, who stood barefoot on the marble floor in a silk robe, wand already in hand, surveying boxes as if commanding a small army.
"This is appropriate," Pansy replied, not looking at him. "It is her first birthday."
"She is one."
"Exactly."
Luna's mouth curved.
Theo leaned closer to her ear. "You see what I live with socially."
"You love it," Luna said, stepping forward.
Pansy noticed them immediately. Her gaze snapped up, assessing, then warmed in a way she would never admit to.
"You're late," she announced.
"We're punctual," Theo replied calmly. "You're manic."
Pansy ignored him and moved straight toward Luna, eyes falling to the plant.
"It hums," Pansy said.
"It's happy," Luna answered gently.
"I adore it. It can stay forever."
Neville's eyes flicked toward the plant with mild caution. "Does it require anything specific," he asked.
"It enjoys compliments," Luna said.
Blaise's voice drifted from somewhere behind a column. "You are magnificent," he told the plant without hesitation. "The most elegant leaf I have ever encountered."
The plant's hum rose in pleased response.
Ginny appeared at his side, heels clicking against marble, eyes bright with disbelief as she surveyed the room.
"You've lost your mind," she told Pansy by way of greeting.
"Hello to you too," Pansy replied serenely.
Theo shifted his attention when a soft sound floated down from upstairs. A sleepy protest. Small. Indignant.
Pansy froze.
Neville did too.
"Is that her," Pansy asked, already moving.
"That's her."
They climbed the stairs with a sudden quiet reverence. The noise of the manor softened as they approached the nursery.
Theo found himself watching Luna instead of the staircase. The way she smiled faintly at the sound. The way her fingers curled lightly around the pot she carried. There was something about children waking that felt sacred to her.
Inside the nursery, the light was diffused through sheer curtains, turning everything soft at the edges. Seraphina stood in her cot, hair a wild crown of curls, cheeks warm with sleep, fingers gripping the railing with absolute authority.
When she saw her parents, her face transformed.
"Mama," she said thickly.
Then, as if remembering a second audience, "Dada."
Neville's breath caught in a way he did not quite disguise.
Pansy crossed the room in three steps and kissed her daughter's forehead. "Happy birthday, my love."
Seraphina grabbed a fistful of silk robe and patted Pansy's cheek with a sticky hand.
Pansy stared at the hand with mock offense. "Excuse you. Do you know how much this cost."
Seraphina smiled at her, entirely unmoved.
Neville lifted her carefully. She settled her head against his shoulder as if the world had resumed its proper shape. Then she looked toward the window.
Outside, the grounds had been transformed.
Theo followed her gaze.
Silk ribbons threaded through hedges. Floating lanterns shaped like moons and stars. A white gazebo draped in gauze that had not existed the previous day. The lawn shimmered with charmed light.
Seraphina made a small sound of astonished delight.
Luna felt something in her chest tighten, gentle and fierce all at once.
"She will be overwhelmed," Neville said quietly.
"She will cope," Pansy answered. Then softer, "I want her to feel celebrated."
Theo glanced at Luna. She was watching Seraphina's expression as though committing it to memory.
"She feels celebrated every day," Neville murmured. "She feels it when you speak to her like she understands."
Pansy's mouth curved. "She does understand."
They descended together.
By the time they reached the east drawing room, the manor had become something glittering and improbable. Two champagne fountains shimmered against the far wall. Glasses spiraled upward, rimmed with sugar that caught the light. Pastries shaped like baby bottles, tiny pugs, and miniature crowns floated lazily along side tables.
The quartet began to play in earnest. The melody was soft, almost a lullaby disguised as elegance.
The front doors opened fully as guests began to filter in.
Ginny and Blaise arrived in a rush of laughter and heat. Ginny's eyes went immediately to the flowers.
"You've absolutely lost your mind," she repeated, scandalised and delighted.
Blaise studied the champagne towers with reverence. "This is religious," he declared.
Ginny elbowed him, then softened when she saw Seraphina properly.
"Look at her," she breathed.
Seraphina stared back at her solemnly, then smiled. Ginny made a soft, wounded sound.
"That's criminal."
Blaise offered his finger. Seraphina gripped it firmly.
"That's a strong handshake," he observed. "She negotiates already."
Theo watched all of it with a faint smile, one arm draped loosely around Luna's waist.
Then Hermione entered with Draco at her side.
Draco's posture was composed, but his hand hovered near Hermione's back as if instinctively prepared to shield her from the world. Hermione's eyes took in everything at once. The champagne. The quartet. The flowers.
"You're insane," she told Pansy fondly.
Pansy embraced her without hesitation.
Draco tried for neutrality when his gaze landed on Seraphina.
It failed.
She reached for his collar with unapologetic intent.
Neville warned him gently. "She's going to grab you."
"I can see that."
She grabbed him anyway.
Draco went very still. Hermione's smile widened.
"She approves," Hermione murmured.
"I have been taken," Draco replied flatly.
Luna stepped forward then, plant humming softly. "Seraphina," she said gently.
Seraphina turned toward her instantly, reaching out with both hands.
Neville passed her over.
Luna held her with quiet certainty, swaying faintly. The plant's hum softened into something that almost resembled a lullaby.
Theo watched the way Seraphina relaxed against Luna's shoulder. The way Luna's cheek brushed against small curls. The way the room seemed to settle around them for a moment.
Lady and Princess burst in wearing pastel tutus.
Ginny gasped.
Blaise crouched down in awe. "Pansy, you've achieved perfection."
"I know," Pansy said, allowing herself the smile.
The party swelled from there.
Lysander made a determined march toward the sugar display, declaring it "lonely." Luna called his name softly. He paused. Considered. Decapitated a sugar pug anyway.
Valerius demanded repairs with grave authority.
Cassie and Lyra nearly formed a coup around the champagne fountain before Draco intervened with cool precision.
Theo intercepted Lysander mid-attempt to scale the fountain. "We do not overthrow fountains today," he informed him solemnly.
"Dada dance," Lysander insisted instead.
Theo bowed with exaggerated dignity and took his hand. They spun badly and enthusiastically across polished marble. Laughter rose around them.
From near the center of the room, Luna watched Theo with their son, watched the careless joy in his expression. For a moment she felt the hum of the plant deepen in her hands, as though it, too, approved.
Hermione gathered children on the rug to read. Seline sat cross-legged nearby, studying an enchanted flower as it opened and closed in response to her touch.
Ginny leaned against Blaise, shoes abandoned.
"We are never doing this," she murmured lightly.
"Doing what," he asked.
"This level of organisation."
"You would excel," he told her.
"I would outsource."
"I would fund."
She smiled.
Pansy stood in the center of her kingdom in silk and triumph. Neville hovered at her side.
"You're happy," he said softly.
"Of course I am. I curated this."
"That's not what I meant."
She looked at him properly then.
"I am," she admitted.
Theo caught Luna's gaze across the room. The noise swelled. Glasses clinked. Children ran in small, chaotic arcs around adults who loved them fiercely.
Seraphina grew drowsy at last. Pansy held her close, chin lifted even as her eyes softened.
"This," she said quietly to Neville, "is what I wanted."
"You have it."
The first cork popped sharply. Laughter erupted again.
At the edge of the room, Theo slipped his fingers through Luna's.
"It's too much," he murmured.
"It's exactly enough," she replied.
Seraphina sighed against Pansy's shoulder as sleep claimed her. The quartet shifted into something brighter. Sugar structures leaned under sticky fingers. Lady and Princess committed small crimes beneath the dessert table.
And for one steady, fragile breath, everything felt held.
~~~~~~
Draco and Hermione's penthouse always felt suspended above the city, as if it existed a breath away from the world rather than inside it. Floor to ceiling windows framed London in pale afternoon haze. Books lined one wall from end to end, spines arranged in meticulous order. The air carried the layered scent of ink, cinnamon, and baby lotion.
Two cribs stood near the windows, carved from pale wood and etched with fine runic lines. They rocked on their own in slow, patient arcs. Inside them, the twins slept in mirrored positions, fists tucked near their cheeks.
Hermione met them at the door with a tired smile that did nothing to dim the sharp brightness of her eyes.
"You're here," she said, relief woven through the words.
"We brought reinforcements," Luna replied gently.
Behind her, Lysander stepped in with the serious expression of someone arriving on official business. Seline followed close at his side, clutching a small bundle of dried lavender Luna had let her carry. Theo entered last, balancing a wicker basket on one hip and scanning the room with instinctive awareness before relaxing a fraction.
Draco emerged from the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, a dish towel thrown over one shoulder as if he had been wrestling something domestic into submission.
"Is that chamomile," he asked, eyeing the basket.
"And fennel," Luna said. "And two small wraps I stitched this week. They like soft edges."
Hermione stepped forward immediately, peering into the basket with open gratitude. "You did not have to."
"I wanted to," Luna answered.
A soft hiccup came from one of the cribs.
Hermione turned so quickly it was almost comical. She crossed the room in three strides and leaned over, fingers brushing the baby's chest as if confirming the continued presence of breath.
"She does that in her sleep," she said, quieter now. "The hiccups."
Theo set the basket down and moved toward the cribs without speaking. He stood there for a second, studying the tiny rise and fall of two small bodies.
"They look identical," he murmured.
"They are not," Draco replied at once. "Cassie frowns before she cries. Lyra studies you first."
Theo glanced at him. "You have notes."
"Of course I have notes."
Lysander had already wandered toward the book wall, fingers trailing along the lower shelves. Seline drifted toward the rug where a stack of parchment and charcoal sticks had been left within easy reach.
"Careful, love," Hermione called softly, her voice warm even in warning. "Some of those are very special."
Lysander turned to her with wide, earnest eyes, one hand still hovering near the spines. "I know," he said seriously. "I'm only looking. I won't bend them. I'm big now."
Hermione's expression melted a little. "I know you are," she replied.
Draco stepped closer, folding his arms as he regarded him with mock gravity. "You do realise, little prince, that those are first editions."
Lysander looked up at him. "Do they bite?"
"Only if someone mistreats them."
Lysander gasped, then quickly tucked his hands behind his back. "I have very careful fingers," he announced. "See? I'm not even touching."
Draco inspected him as though assessing a recruit. "Acceptable," he said at last.
Hermione smiled at Luna. "He's been practicing turning pages from the corner," she said softly. "He's very proud of it."
"I learned it here," Lysander added, glowing.
Draco's expression gentled despite himself. "Of course you did," he murmured. "That is why we trust you, little prince."
Seline had toddled closer by then, curls bouncing, one hand already reaching toward a lower shelf. Hermione crouched immediately.
"Oh, my little moon," Hermione said warmly, brushing a curl from Seline's face. "Gentle hands."
Seline blinked up at her, then patted the book with her palm. "Gen-ul," she repeated proudly.
"Yes," Hermione said, smiling. "Exactly."
Seline beamed at having done it right, then leaned her head against Hermione's knee as if that settled the matter.
Draco looked down at the small, silver-haired child pressed against Hermione and huffed quietly. "We appear to have very polite house guests," he said.
Lysander straightened. "We are good guests," he corrected with great dignity.
Hermione laughed softly.
Theo leaned into one crib and, with surprising ease, slid his hands beneath the smaller twin. He lifted her carefully, supporting her head without being told.
Draco watched him.
"You do not have to," he said.
"I know."
Theo settled Lyra against his shoulder. She made a small, contented sound and curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt.
He stilled.
Hermione's mouth softened.
"You see," she murmured.
"I see nothing," Theo said flatly.
Luna pretended not to smile.
They moved toward the seating area. The sofa faced the windows, sunlight slanting across the cushions in golden bands. Lysander climbed up immediately and then slid back down, as if deciding the floor was more strategic.
Seline began carefully coloring the margins of an abandoned spell diagram, filling each curved line with careful blue.
Hermione sank into an armchair opposite Luna. For a moment she only watched Theo, who was still standing, gently swaying without realizing it.
Draco noticed too.
"You are swaying," he said.
Theo stopped abruptly. "I am adjusting my balance."
Hermione let out a quiet laugh.
Tea appeared a few minutes later, conjured with more force than necessary. Draco handed Hermione a cup before taking his own.
There was a lull. The babies slept. The city hummed below them.
Hermione stared into her tea.
"I thought I would feel prepared," she said suddenly.
Luna looked at her.
"I read everything," Hermione continued. "Every book on infant development. Every study on attachment theory. I know the statistics for fevers and colic and sleep regression. I know how to calculate safe potion dosages down to the decimal."
She swallowed.
"And I am still terrified."
Theo's gaze flicked toward her briefly before returning to the baby on his shoulder.
Hermione exhaled slowly. "I check their breathing constantly. I wake up in the night convinced something is wrong. When they cry, I feel it here." She pressed a hand to her sternum. "Like I have failed already."
Luna set her cup down.
"They are alive," she said softly. "They are warm. They are held. They are loved. You speak to them as if they understand you. They do."
Hermione's eyes shone.
"What if I am not enough," she whispered.
"You are the first sound they recognized," Luna replied. "You are the pattern of comfort they return to. They do not need perfection. They only need you."
Hermione blinked, once, hard.
Across the room, Lysander had located a large illustrated volume on magical creatures.
"Dragons," he announced triumphantly.
Draco closed his eyes briefly. "No."
"You did not hear the question."
"I do not need to."
Lysander climbed onto the sofa beside him anyway, flipping to a vivid depiction of a Welsh Green mid-flight.
"Could you raise one inside," he asked.
"Absolutely not."
"But if you had enough rooms."
Draco turned slowly toward him. "Dragons require open terrain. Ventilation. They breathe fire."
"We could open windows."
Theo, still holding the baby, spoke without looking up. "He has a point."
Draco stared at him in disbelief. "You are not assisting."
Luna moved closer, lowering herself to the rug between them like a mediator at a summit.
"Perhaps dragons," she said calmly, "prefer to choose their own habitats."
Lysander considered this deeply.
"We could visit them," he said finally.
"That," Draco allowed, "is negotiable."
Seline held up her crinkled bit of parchment with both hands, arms wobbling from the effort.
"Wook," she declared proudly.
Hermione leaned forward at once, as if she had just been presented with a priceless manuscript. "Oh," she breathed, studying the enthusiastic loops and determined scratches. "That is very detailed."
Seline nodded with grave seriousness, curls bouncing. She jabbed a finger at a particularly aggressive spiral of ink.
"Pwotesh," she announced.
Hermione pressed a hand to her chest as though personally honoured. "A protection circle?" she asked gently.
Seline beamed. "Yesh."
"Well," Hermione said, entirely sincere, "I feel much safer already."
Draco glanced over from where he stood and tilted his head. "Do I need one as well?" he asked gravely.
Seline considered him, then toddled over and smacked the parchment lightly against his leg.
"Dlayco safe," she decided.
Draco blinked once, then inclined his head. "Excellent. Carry on, little sorceress."
Seline giggled at that and ran back to Hermione, parchment clutched like state secrets.
Theo shifted the baby slightly. She made a small protesting sound, then settled again, cheek pressed against his collar.
Hermione watched the movement.
"Would you read to them," she asked suddenly.
Theo looked at her. "To who."
"To the twins. They know voices."
Draco folded his arms with interest. "Yes. Do."
Theo hesitated, then crossed to the shelf and selected a book at random. He sat in the armchair nearest the cribs, one twin still resting against him while the other rocked gently in place.
He opened the book.
His voice, when he began, was low and steady. Each sentence landed with quiet weight. There was no theatrical flourish. No forced gentleness. Only a deep, grounded cadence that filled the space without overwhelming it.
The second twin stirred in her crib.
The rocking slowed.
Lysander drifted closer, resting his chin on the edge of the sofa to listen. Seline leaned against Hermione's side, charcoal forgotten in her hand.
Draco remained standing for a while, then slowly took a seat.
Theo turned a page.
The city outside dimmed as clouds passed over the sun. Inside, the only sounds were his voice and the soft rhythm of two sleeping infants.
When he finished, he closed the book carefully.
Both twins were fully asleep.
Hermione exhaled in something close to awe.
Draco cleared his throat. "You may visit again."
Theo rose at once, returning the book to its place. "I was simply reading."
"Of course," Draco said.
Luna reached for Theo's hand as he passed her. He squeezed once in return before pretending he had not.
Hermione stood and crossed to the cribs again, brushing a finger over each small forehead.
"They will grow so quickly," she murmured.
"They will," Luna agreed. "And you will grow with them."
Lysander tugged at Draco's sleeve. "If we visit a dragon, can we name it."
Draco looked down at him. "We will begin with observing from a distance."
"That means yes," Lysander whispered to Seline.
Seline nodded wisely.
Theo glanced at the twins one last time before moving back toward Luna and the children.
The penthouse settled into its quiet again. Ink. Cinnamon. Baby lotion. The faint creak of enchanted wood.
Above the city, wrapped in books and fear and overwhelming love, they lingered a little longer before stepping back into the lift, carrying their children with them and leaving behind the soft echo of a story told in a low, steady voice.
~~~~~~
Twilight came slowly in Ginny's garden, the sky melting from gold into soft bruised violet while the first stars pricked through the darkening blue.
Blaise had insisted on lighting the string lights early, claiming ambience required commitment, so the yard already glowed in a lazy scatter of warm bulbs strung between the fence posts and the low branches of the old apple tree. The firepit crackled at the center of it all, flames licking up in steady bursts, throwing sparks into the evening like tiny shooting stars.
Blankets had been dragged out in armfuls. Someone had abandoned their shoes near the back steps. Mismatched lawn chairs formed a loose circle around the fire, and a bottle of red wine breathed dramatically on the low table beside a bowl of marshmallows and a plate that had once held something sweet and no longer did.
The children had fallen first.
Valerius had tried to insist he was not tired, then promptly fallen asleep mid-argument, curled into Ginny's side like a small lion cub. Lysander had been the last to give in, clutching a stick he had declared "important for night patrol," eyes fluttering closed while still attempting to explain the tactical advantage of higher ground in dragon defense. Seline had surrendered early, thumb tucked into her mouth, pressed into Theo's shoulder until her breathing deepened and steadied.
Now they lay in a gentle heap of limbs and blankets on the grass just beyond the firelight, three small shapes rising and falling in peaceful rhythm. Someone had tucked the last blanket around their feet with reverence.
Ginny watched them for a long moment before settling back into her chair. "They look like they've survived a battle," she murmured softly.
"They have," Blaise replied solemnly. "It was against sugar."
Hermione laughed under her breath, curling her legs beneath her. Draco sat beside her, one arm draped over the back of her chair, his gaze drifting between the sleeping children and the flames. Theo leaned forward, elbows on his knees, holding a marshmallow over the fire with surgical focus.
"You're going to burn it," Ginny warned.
"I am absolutely not," Theo replied without looking up.
He rotated the stick precisely, adjusting the distance from the flame by fractions. The marshmallow turned a slow, even bronze.
Blaise squinted at him. "You roast marshmallows like you're disarming something."
Theo's mouth twitched. "Everything benefits from discipline."
Draco gave a low hum of agreement. "It's about control."
Hermione rolled her eyes affectionately. "It's sugar on a stick."
Theo finally pulled the marshmallow away, examined it critically, then nodded once to himself. "Perfect."
Ginny reached for the wine bottle and refilled a few glasses. "All right," she said, settling deeper into her chair. "We've got sleeping children, good wine, and a fire. Someone tell me something scandalous."
Blaise straightened immediately. "Finally."
"Oh no," Hermione muttered, though she was smiling.
Blaise leaned back with exaggerated elegance, one ankle resting on his knee. The firelight caught the edge of his jaw, the flash of his grin. "I once seduced a veela."
The silence that followed was short and violent.
"No you did not," Ginny said instantly.
Hermione snorted into her wine.
Draco let out a long, unimpressed breath. "This should be good."
Blaise placed a hand over his heart. "I did."
"When," Ginny demanded, eyes narrowed in delight.
"Summer after sixth year," Blaise replied smoothly. "French coast. She was luminous. Utterly undone by me."
Theo glanced up from his marshmallow. "You were seventeen."
"And very persuasive."
Hermione shook her head. "Veela enchant men. They do not get enchanted."
"She was different."
Ginny leaned forward, chin in her hand. "Describe her."
Blaise did not hesitate. "Tall. Silver hair. Eyes like stormlight. She said I had depth."
Draco barked a laugh. "She was mocking you."
"She was not."
"Blaise," Hermione said gently, "are you absolutely sure she was not simply trying to steal your wallet?"
Ginny grinned wickedly. "Or your blood."
Blaise looked wounded. "I am offended by your lack of faith."
Theo examined him over the rim of his glass. "You cried over a waitress when you were younger."
"She had presence."
"She forgot your order," Draco corrected.
Ginny dissolved into laughter, tipping sideways against Blaise's shoulder. "You did not seduce a veela."
Blaise sniffed. "Believe what you want."
"I will," Hermione said sweetly.
The fire popped loudly, sparks spiraling upward. Seline shifted in her sleep, making a small, soft sound. Luna's gaze flicked to her instantly, her whole body attuned to that tiny noise. When she saw Seline settle again, she exhaled slowly and leaned back into her chair.
Theo noticed. His hand found hers without looking.
Ginny lifted her glass toward Blaise. "To the imaginary veela."
Blaise clinked his wine against hers with dignity. "To your jealousy."
They drank.
The conversation drifted after that, moving easily from memory to memory. Hermione spoke about her first year teaching, about the terror of standing in front of a classroom and realizing she was now the adult in the room. Draco confessed, quietly, that he still double-checked the twins' breathing at night.
"Every night?" Ginny asked softly.
"Every night," he said.
Hermione reached for his hand under the low table.
Theo nudged another marshmallow toward the flames. "It never goes away," he said. "That fear."
Luna looked at him.
"You just learn how to carry it," he added.
Ginny tipped her head back to study the sky. "Mum used to say that," she murmured.
They all went quiet at that.
"What did she say?" Hermione asked gently.
Ginny stared into the fire for a long moment before answering. The flames painted her face gold and shadow.
"She used to say fear is proof that you love properly," Ginny said. "That if you are not a little afraid of losing something, you probably do not understand how precious it is."
Blaise's hand tightened slightly around his glass.
Ginny's voice softened. "When I was little, I thought she was being dramatic. But she wasn't. She was just honest."
The fire cracked again.
"I remember one night," Ginny continued. "Dad was away. The house was too quiet. I couldn't sleep. I went down to the kitchen and she was there, at the table, just sitting. I asked her why she wasn't in bed and she said she was listening."
"Listening for what?" Luna asked quietly.
"For us," Ginny said. "For breathing. For the sound of everyone still being there."
Silence folded around them gently.
Luna swallowed. She did not realize at first that her eyes had filled. She blinked, confused by the sudden blur of light. A tear slid down her cheek before she could stop it.
Theo turned toward her immediately. "Love?"
She touched her face, startled. "I don't know why I'm crying," she whispered.
Ginny looked at her with something soft and knowing. "You do," she said gently.
Luna glanced toward the pile of blankets where Lysander lay on his side, one hand still curled around that "important" stick. Seline's curls were a pale halo against the dark wool.
"I think," Luna said slowly, voice trembling just a little, "I think it's because I understand now."
Hermione leaned forward, eyes shining. "Understand what?"
"That listening," Luna replied. "That sitting in the dark and listening for breathing."
Theo's hand tightened around hers.
The fire shifted, embers glowing brighter for a moment.
Draco cleared his throat quietly. "Parenthood is undignified."
Ginny laughed softly. "That is one way to put it."
"You spend years pretending you are in control," Draco continued. "Then a small person looks at you and you realize you would dismantle the world for them."
Hermione rested her head briefly against his shoulder.
Blaise stared into the flames, the joking edge gone from his expression. "I used to think love made you weak," he said. "Now I think it makes you reckless."
Theo let out a quiet breath. "It makes you brave."
Ginny reached for the old tin box that had been sitting on the table all evening. "All right," she said softly, clearing her throat. "Enough seriousness. I have something."
She opened the box.
Inside were photographs, edges worn, colors softened with time.
"Merlin," Draco muttered.
Ginny ignored him and began handing them out.
Hermione took one and immediately covered her mouth, laughing. "Oh my God."
"What?" Blaise demanded.
Hermione turned the photograph toward the firelight. It showed a much younger Ginny, hair in two wild braids, grinning with missing teeth and holding a garden gnome triumphantly above her head.
"Evidence," Hermione said.
Ginny pointed accusingly at another photograph in Draco's hands. "Show them that one."
Draco glanced down, went very still, then attempted to flip it face down.
Theo leaned across the table and snatched it.
Then he burst into laughter.
"Oh no," Blaise breathed.
Theo turned the photograph toward the circle.
Draco, aged perhaps fourteen, stood rigid in dress robes far too formal for his lanky frame, expression severe, hair slicked so flat it gleamed. Beside him, an enormous decorative swan loomed, its head tilted ominously.
"You posed with a swan," Ginny said triumphantly.
"It was a fundraiser," Draco snapped.
"You look terrified."
"I was not terrified."
"The swan is judging you."
Blaise was laughing openly now, wiping at her eyes. "I remember this," she said. "You refused to stand closer because you thought it would peck you."
"It tried to," Draco insisted.
The laughter rolled around the fire, warm and full.
Lysander stirred, mumbling something about "dragon wings," then settled again.
Theo glanced toward him, smile softening.
Ginny passed Luna a photograph last.
Luna studied it carefully. It showed Ginny and her mother standing in a kitchen, flour dusted across both their cheeks, something half-burnt on the counter behind them. Molly's hand rested at the small of Ginny's back, steady and certain.
"She looks proud," Luna whispered.
"She was," Ginny said.
The fire popped again, louder this time, and sparks drifted up into the dark.
Blaise refilled the glasses with exaggerated care. "All right," he declared, recovering some of his theatrical energy. "If we are confessing things, I once attempted to brew amortentia at fourteen."
Hermione groaned. "Of course you did."
"It exploded."
Ginny laughed into her sleeve. "I remember that. The entire corridor smelled like perfume and regret."
Draco smirked faintly. "You tried to enchant half the Slytherin common room."
"I was ambitious."
Theo raised his glass. "To ambition."
They clinked again.
The night deepened around them, wrapping the garden in velvet dark. The string lights glowed steadily overhead. The fire burned lower, embers settling into a steady pulse of heat.
Ginny leaned back, barefoot toes stretched toward the warmth. "We used to sit like this after matches," she said. "Before everything got complicated. Just laughing about nothing."
Hermione smiled. "We still are."
Blaise glanced at the sleeping children. "It feels different."
"How?" Luna asked.
"Quieter," he said. "Fuller."
Theo nodded once.
Draco's voice dropped, thoughtful. "There is something about watching them sleep," he said. "It makes the rest of it feel distant."
Hermione brushed her fingers along his sleeve.
Luna closed her eyes for a moment, letting the crackle of the fire and the low hum of conversation wash over her. The warmth seeped into her bones. Theo's thumb traced idle patterns over her knuckles.
When she opened her eyes again, the world felt gently suspended.
Ginny lifted her glass one last time. "To strange stories," she said.
"To imaginary veela," Hermione added.
"To swans," Blaise offered.
"To marshmallows roasted with military precision," Draco said dryly.
Theo inclined his head.
Luna looked at the circle of them, at the firelight flickering across familiar faces, at the small sleeping shapes under blankets, at the night sky stretching wide and patient above.
"To listening," she said softly.
They drank.
The fire gave one final sharp crack, a bright burst of sparks, and for a moment all of them were laughing again, the sound rising easy and unguarded into the dark.
~~~~~~~
The house felt different after midnight.
Luna moved through it barefoot.
The hem of her dress brushed against the polished floors as she made her way down the hallway, one hand trailing lightly along the wall as if she were greeting the house itself. A single lamp glowed at the far end, casting a warm halo that barely reached her feet. Beyond it, the nursery door stood slightly ajar.
Inside, the air held the faint, comforting scent of lavender sachets and warm cotton. Moonlight slipped in through the tall window, silvering the edges of everything it touched. Two small beds sat opposite one another, low and safe, quilts tucked neatly around sleeping bodies who had long since surrendered to exhaustion.
Lysander had rolled onto his stomach at some point, one arm flung above his head in dramatic sprawl. His curls were wild against the pillow. The stick he had insisted on bringing home from Ginny's backyard lay abandoned on the floor beside the bed, forgotten in the face of sleep.
Seline lay on her side, thumb pressed to her mouth, her stuffed unicorn tucked beneath her chin like a secret. One tiny foot had escaped the blanket. Luna crossed the room and gently tucked it back in, smoothing the quilt over her daughter's hip with careful fingers.
She stood there for a long moment, simply watching.
The rise and fall of their breathing felt like its own language. Steady. Uncomplicated. Present.
"Thank you," she whispered to no one in particular.
Then she left the door open just a little wider and continued down the hall.
The kitchen light was still on.
She smiled before she even stepped inside.
Theo sat at the long wooden table with one elbow braced against its surface, a half-empty glass of wine cradled in his hand. His head had tipped forward slightly, chin resting near his collarbone, as though sleep had crept up and tried to claim him mid-thought.
The bottle sat open beside him. One chair had been pulled out for her without her asking.
She leaned against the doorway for a moment and watched him breathe.
"Tired, Sunny?" she asked softly.
He stirred, blinking slowly, dragging his gaze up toward her. For a second he looked disoriented, like a man waking from a dream he had not intended to fall into.
"I was resting my eyes," he muttered.
"Of course you were."
She crossed the kitchen, poured herself the smallest splash of wine, and slid into the chair beside him. The wood was cool against her legs. Outside, the garden hummed faintly with night insects and distant wind.
"They're asleep," she said.
Theo nodded once, as if he had expected no other answer.
"Lysander insisted on bringing home a stick," she added.
"I saw."
"He believes it has purpose."
Theo's mouth twitched. "It probably does."
They sat in comfortable silence for a few breaths.
The kind that needed no filling.
"You did well tonight," Luna said quietly.
Theo frowned faintly. "I roasted sugar."
"You listened."
His expression shifted at that.
"I watched you," she continued. "With Ginny. With the children. You were very still."
He looked down at his glass. "It felt… important."
"It was."
The clock on the far wall ticked softly. The wine in her glass caught the light, deep red against pale porcelain.
Luna reached out and brushed her fingers along his sleeve.
"You know your birthday party is next week," she said, almost casually.
Theo made a low sound that hovered somewhere between resignation and disbelief. "I was hoping you'd forgotten."
"I would never."
"I am not turning eighty."
"You are turning something," she replied serenely.
He exhaled through his nose, then lifted his head fully, studying her. "How elaborate is this going to be?"
"Pansy has already offered swans."
He stared at her.
"She was very serious."
"Absolutely not."
"She mentioned live music."
"No."
"And themed cocktails."
Theo set his glass down carefully. "Luna."
"Yes?"
"If there are swans."
"There might be one."
He closed his eyes briefly. "I do not want a bird."
She leaned closer, her voice lowering conspiratorially. "What if it wears a bow tie."
His hand came up to cover his face.
She laughed softly, the sound gentle and fond.
"Fine," he muttered. "One animal. No orchestra."
"I cannot promise that."
He dropped his hand and looked at her fully then.
The light in the kitchen softened the angles of his face. There was wine on his breath and sleep in his eyes and something else, something tender that lived just beneath his ribs and surfaced only in moments like this.
He reached for her without warning.
His palms came up to cradle her cheeks, thumbs brushing lightly along the curve of her jaw. The movement was slow, reverent, as if he were memorizing the shape of her face by touch alone.
She stilled.
"I love you," he said.
He leaned forward, pressing his forehead gently to hers. His voice dropped even lower.
"I love you in a way that feels unfair," he continued. "Like the world gave me something I did not earn."
She shook her head immediately, a small frown forming. "You earned everything."
He huffed a quiet laugh. "You are biased."
"I am correct."
His thumbs traced faint lines beneath her eyes, as if smoothing away invisible weight.
"I watched you tonight," he said. "With them. With everyone. You move through rooms like you belong to every corner."
"I belong to you," she replied softly.
He swallowed.
"And you belong to me," he said. "Which means the world will have to tolerate that."
She smiled, eyes shining.
They stayed like that for a moment longer, foreheads pressed together, breathing the same quiet air.
Eventually he pulled back just enough to study her.
"You're tired," he murmured.
"So are you."
He nodded once in agreement.
They finished their wine slowly, neither in a hurry.
The house creaked faintly as it settled further into the night.
When they finally stood, it was uncoordinated and sleepy. He blew out the single candle on the counter. She turned off the lamp. The kitchen slipped into darkness behind them as they made their way upstairs.
Halfway down the hall, Luna paused again at the nursery.
Theo stopped beside her without asking why.
They both looked in.
Seline had shifted closer to the edge of her bed, one hand stretched out into the empty space beside her. Lysander's breathing was deeper now, less restless.
"They look so small," Luna whispered.
"They are."
"They won't always be."
"No."
The word lingered between them.
They closed the door softly and continued to their own room.
The bedroom held the faint scent of clean linen and old wood. Moonlight painted pale stripes across the duvet. Luna slipped out of her dress, leaving it draped carefully over the chair. Theo toed off his shoes, unbuttoning his shirt with slow, absent motions.
They slid into bed without ceremony.
The sheets were cool at first, then warmed quickly around them.
Theo turned onto his side, one arm immediately reaching for her waist. She curved into him instinctively, fitting herself against the familiar line of his body.
For a while they said nothing.
His breathing began to deepen. Her fingers traced absent shapes against his forearm.
"Sunny," she murmured quietly into the dark.
He made a soft sound of acknowledgment.
"Do you think they'll remember days like this?"
The question hovered gently in the room.
He did not answer immediately.
She could feel him thinking.
"I hope so," he said at last.
She waited.
"I will," he added.
Her throat tightened.
"I will remember every fire, every argument about dragons, every marshmallow," he continued softly. "Even if they forget, I won't."
She pressed her face into his chest.
"That's enough," she whispered.
His hand moved up to cup the back of her head, fingers threading lightly through her hair.
"They'll remember pieces," he said after a moment. "How it felt. The warmth. The way we laughed."
"The listening," she added.
"Yes," he agreed. "The listening."
Outside, the wind brushed against the windows in a long, quiet sigh.
Theo's lips found her hair.
"I love you," he murmured again, already drifting.
She smiled against his skin.
"And I love you," she whispered.
And eventually, wrapped around each other in the dark, they slept.