Luna and Pansy were deep in their sacred afternoon ritual, a comfortable sprawl of tea, laughter, and the kind of chaos only Lysander could generate.
The drawing room had surrendered entirely to toddler rule, its polished calm overtaken by squeals, thudding footsteps, and the determined snorting of two pugs who had decided they were part of the game. Sunlight poured through the tall windows, warming the floor in soft gold, while the scent of chamomile and herbs drifted lazily through the air.
Lysander, ruler of this small kingdom, barreled across the rug with Lady and Princess close behind. His short legs pumped with all the seriousness of a great escape, his laughter tipping into delighted shrieks as the pugs gained ground.
"Mommy!" he cried, exhilaration threaded with just enough panic to make it thrilling.
Luna watched from the sofa, curled comfortably with her tea, amusement softening her expression. "Let them catch you, love," she said, her voice warm and indulgent.
Pansy lounged opposite her, elderflower cordial in hand, one brow lifting as she followed the chase. "Honestly, I think they're obsessed with him," she said, gesturing toward the pugs, who were fully committed to their pursuit. "I've never seen them this focused. Are you sure you didn't hex them for stamina?"
Luna laughed and set her cup aside. "They adore him," she replied. "And Lysander thrives on attention. In his mind, he's leading a mighty pack."
Pansy snorted. "Leader? Please. He's their favorite chew toy. Give it ten seconds and they'll crown him."
As if summoned by fate, Lysander's legs tangled and he tumbled onto the rug with a soft oof. Lady and Princess immediately descended, enthusiasm unchecked, covering his face in slobbery kisses. Lysander shrieked with laughter, arms flailing as he failed spectacularly at escape.
"Well," Pansy said, watching with interest, "I'd say he's ruling them beautifully. If all kings were this generous, history would be kinder."
"Mommy, help!" Lysander gasped between giggles.
Luna reached down, laughing as she peeled one pug away and scooped Lysander into her lap. She kissed his flushed cheek while he huffed dramatically, the performance clearly for effect.
Pansy watched, something unguarded flickering across her face. She took a sip of her drink as though it might hide the warmth creeping in. "I think I might love him as much as the dogs do."
Luna smiled at her. "You're already his favorite godmother. He asks for you every day."
Pansy sighed, feigning disinterest, though satisfaction gleamed in her eyes. "Naturally. It was never a contest."
Luna tilted her head. "You do realize he calls you Pee-Pee, right?"
Pansy exhaled sharply, her glare sharp enough to wound. "Yes, I'm painfully aware. Thank you for the reminder."
Lysander chose that moment to twist around and beam. "Pee-Pee!" he chirped.
Pansy groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "I have cultivated terror, beauty, and influence. People fear me. And now I'm a bathroom sound."
Lysander giggled, clearly delighted. "Pee-Pee!"
"He means it lovingly," Luna said, rubbing his back.
"Oh, that changes everything," Pansy replied flatly.
"You could correct him," Luna offered, eyes gleaming.
Pansy narrowed her gaze. "And crush his tiny heart? Absolutely not. I have standards." She lifted her glass with theatrical resignation. "I'll endure."
Lysander wriggled free and toddled back toward the pugs, who were already bracing for another round. Pansy watched him go, a reluctant smile tugging at her mouth.
Then she set her glass down. "I want one."
Luna nearly choked on her tea. "One what?"
"A child."
Luna blinked. "Pansy, having a child is not like choosing a handbag."
Pansy waved her off. "I've chosen the name, planned the nursery, and sorted the Hogwarts house. All that remains is execution."
Luna pressed her fingers to her temples. "Of course. Do you have a plan?"
"Obviously," Pansy said with a smirk. "I will remain stunning and allow fate to deliver someone worthy."
Luna arched a brow. "A daring strategy."
"It works often enough," Pansy said.
Luna sipped her tea. "Shall I start knitting jumpers for Pee-Pee Junior?"
Pansy hurled a cushion at her. "I hate you."
Luna caught it easily. "No, you don't."
Pansy sank back into her chair with a sigh. "No. I really don't."
Luna leaned back, bracing herself. "You've picked a name already?"
Pansy brightened. "Seraphina Nova Parkinson the Third."
Luna stared. "That child will need an assistant to answer roll call."
"Exactly," Pansy said, delighted. "It screams legacy."
"And parenting?" Luna asked. "What does that look like?"
Pansy waved dismissively. "I'll hire help. I'll teach the essentials. Exits. Eyebrows. Confidence."
Luna laughed. "I worry for this imaginary child."
"They'll thrive," Pansy said grandly. "Picture the wardrobe."
Luna snorted. "Velvet capes?"
"And tiaras," Pansy added triumphantly.
Luna covered her face, laughter shaking her shoulders. "I refuse to accept that this is real."
"And wait until you hear my backup baby name ideas," Pansy continued, entirely undeterred and now fully committed to her own chaos. "I've got loads. Lysander Junior, because obviously your perfect little cherub deserves to have his legacy continued through my superior genetics." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Or Parkinson Legacy. It has real grandeur, don't you think?"
Luna lifted her head just enough to give her a flat, unimpressed look. "Pansy. You cannot name a child Legacy. That's not a name. That's a real estate investment strategy."
Pansy gasped, clutching her chest in exaggerated offense. "Excuse me! Legacy is sophisticated. It's visionary. It says, 'I was born for greatness.'"
"It says, 'My mother has a God complex,'" Luna shot back, grinning. "I swear, you are completely unhinged."
Pansy rolled her eyes and gave Luna a playful shove. "Oh, please. You're acting like I'm planning to have a baby tomorrow. Relax, I'll give it at least a week before I go full maternity mode."
"A week?" Luna echoed, laughter spilling out despite her effort to contain it. "That's incredibly generous of you."
"I know," Pansy said with a dramatic sigh, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "I'm practically a saint."
Luna shook her head, wiping at the corner of her eye. "Merlin help us all."
"Merlin doesn't need to help, darling," Pansy replied, lifting her glass in a mock toast. "I've got this handled."
After far too much laughter and an alarming number of ridiculous baby name suggestions, they finally managed to collect themselves, though the last of their giggles still lingered between them. The afternoon light had begun to shift, and Luna knew exactly what that meant.
Lysander, entirely unaware of his approaching fate, continued racing around the room in wild circles, laughter bubbling out of him as Lady and Princess followed close behind. The moment the word "nap" was uttered, the pugs changed strategy immediately. They abandoned the chase and moved into formation, trotting behind Lysander with solemn focus, tails wagging with purpose.
Lysander protested halfheartedly as Luna scooped him into her arms, squirming just enough to voice his displeasure. The pugs followed closely, paws padding with serious intent as they marched toward the nursery.
Once inside, the resistance faded quickly. Princess leapt onto the bed and spun before flopping down with finality. Lady curled up against Lysander's side, pressing herself firmly into place.
Luna sighed, shaking her head. "I suppose the dogs need to be tucked in too, don't they?"
Pansy crossed her arms, surveying the scene. "If we don't tuck them in, they'll absolutely make it everyone's problem later. I refuse to deal with pug-related emotional distress."
Luna laughed softly as she adjusted the blankets, tucking Lysander and his devoted guards in with careful precision. It took longer than expected, mostly because neither pug was willing to move, but eventually all three were settled. Lysander released one last sleepy sigh before curling into his pillows, his eyelids fluttering shut. The pugs followed almost instantly, snoring as if on cue.
They slipped out of the nursery quietly, closing the door with practiced care. As soon as the latch clicked, Luna leaned back against the doorframe and exhaled, the sound full of tired affection.
"Finally," she whispered dramatically, pressing a hand to her heart like a woman who had just survived an ordeal. "Some peace."
Pansy, ever the realist, gave her a sideways glance, already seeing the cracks in Luna's blissful optimism. "Some peace?" she echoed, feigning incredulity. "You do realize that within an hour, your son is going to explode out of that room like a human firework, and those pugs are going to act like they've been released from captivity, right?"
Luna huffed a small laugh, glancing at the closed nursery door with a fond smile. "I wouldn't trade it for the world," she admitted. But then, stretching her arms above her head with an exaggerated groan, she let out a hopeful sigh. "That being said… for now, we have the house to ourselves. Let's enjoy it while it lasts."
Pansy's lips curled into a sly smile as she looped her arm through Luna's and pulled her toward the drawing room. "Oh, let's definitely enjoy it," she agreed. "But let's also be realistic—this peace is an illusion. We are talking about a toddler and two pugs, Lovegood. We might have twenty minutes before all hell breaks loose. Thirty, if we're extremely lucky."
With a soft chuckle, Luna allowed herself to be guided to the sofa, sinking into the cushions as the quiet of the house finally settled around them.
~~~~~~
Their quiet moment barely had time to settle before chaos crashed in through the Floo.
A frantic voice burst through the network, sharp and panicked, shattering the calm of the room.
"Help me! Ginny's in labour and I'm going to die!"
Pansy, who had just settled into the sofa with her feet up, groaned loudly and slapped a hand to her forehead. "Oh, for fucks sake," she muttered, thick with irritation. "Really? At a time like this?"
Luna, by contrast, was already on her feet. The softness she had carried moments earlier vanished as she moved toward the fireplace with swift purpose, her voice clear and commanding. "Bobsy!"
The house-elf appeared at once, ears twitching, eyes wide.
"Bobsy, love, Master Zabini needs help. Please watch the children for me, and the furry one too," Luna said, brisk yet gentle.
Bobsy nodded quickly, determination puffing out his small chest, though his gaze flicked nervously toward the general direction of the nursery.
Pansy was already tugging on her coat, still muttering under her breath. "Ginny's in labour, Blaise is in crisis. Why am I the only one who never gets a quiet day off?" She scoffed. "I swear, this is the universe's idea of a joke."
Luna chuckled as she slipped into her own coat, entirely unruffled. "Pansy, you wouldn't have it any other way. Besides, it's an adventure. You do love those. Even when they involve a panic stricken man."
Pansy shot her a look, one perfectly sculpted brow arching. "An adventure? You call saving a screaming man from his own dramatics an adventure? Next thing you know, we'll be hauling him out of a broom cupboard."
Luna grinned, eyes bright. "If it comes to that, I'll take the broom cupboard rescue. I think I'm far more qualified to handle Blaise than a certain godfather."
With a dramatic sigh, Pansy adjusted her scarf and pulled out her wand. "Fine. But this is the last time. Blaise owes me a full week of peace after this."
As they moved toward the fireplace, Luna glanced at her with a teasing smile. "I'm sure he'll make it up to you. If anyone can handle a wizarding birth, it's you."
Pansy rolled her eyes as they stepped into the flames. "You're right. I'm practically a certified healer at this point."
"Only because you've survived Blaise's melodramas," Luna replied lightly as the Floo took them.
~~~~~~
When they finally arrived at the Zabini residence, they braced themselves for chaos. With Blaise involved, chaos usually came standard.
Instead, they walked into the sitting room to find Ginny calmly seated on the sofa, a teacup in hand, looking entirely at ease. There was no frantic pacing, no sign of an impending crisis. Ginny appeared relaxed, composed, and unhurried, which was equal parts reassuring and deeply suspicious.
Luna stepped inside first, concern flickering across her face as she took in the scene. "Ginny, are you okay?" she asked gently, her eyes scanning the room for anything amiss.
Ginny looked up and smiled, serene as ever. "Yes, I'm fine," she said easily. "My water broke, but there's no need to panic. We're just packing to go to St. Mungo's." She patted her belly, utterly unconcerned. "No big deal."
Pansy blinked, taking this in, then glanced toward the staircase where Blaise's muffled, frantic voice echoed faintly. She let out a slow breath and planted a hand on her hip. "I swear, Ginny, I'm going to kill him," she muttered. "This is supposed to be the most dramatic moment of his life, and he's losing his mind like a bloody child."
Ginny chuckled, shaking her head. "He's just scared," she said with fond amusement. "You know how he is. All confidence until something real happens to me."
Luna smiled softly, observing them both. "That makes sense," she said. "Waiting for a baby can feel overwhelming, even for people who pretend they have everything handled."
Pansy snorted. "Overwhelming? He's upstairs acting like we're facing a Dark Lord. Meanwhile, you're hosting a tea party."
Ginny grinned. "I've had practice," she said lightly. "This isn't the first time I've dealt with a panicking Zabini." She glanced down at her stomach again. "I'm more concerned about remembering the baby bag."
Pansy crossed her arms, unimpressed. "So you're calm, he's unraveling, and I'm meant to accept this? Absolutely not. I'm going upstairs to remind him how to behave during childbirth. A little composure would be nice."
Luna laughed. "If anyone can restore order, it's you," she said. "Though Ginny really does seem to have everything under control. You can always yell at Blaise later."
Ginny winked at Pansy over the rim of her cup. "You might want to give him a pass this once. He's going to be a father in a few hours, and I think that's hitting him harder than he expected."
Pansy rolled her eyes, though a smirk crept in. "Fine. Only because you're both far too calm. If it were up to me, I'd have him begging for mercy already."
Luna clapped her hands together, clearly pleased. "Then let's not keep him waiting. I think it's time to tell him that his wife is entirely unfazed. That should help."
Ginny set her cup down, smiling. "It will. At least until the contractions really start."
Pansy turned toward the stairs, grin sharp. "Then let's go deliver the message. Someone deserves a moment of peace in this circus."
Together, they headed upstairs, fully prepared to deal with a man who was almost certainly convinced that the fate of the world depended on the arrival of his child. Ginny might have understood his fear, but Pansy was more than happy to enjoy the irony.
~~~~~~
By the time they reached St. Mungo's, Blaise had transformed so completely that it felt like stepping into another reality. The frantic pacing and breathless catastrophizing were gone. In their place stood a man locked into purpose, sharp and controlled, every nerve aligned toward a single goal.
Blaise Zabini strode through the hospital doors like he was leading a critical operation. His shoulders were squared, his expression severe, his gaze sweeping the room with focused intensity. People moved aside without thinking, instinctively sensing that this was not a man to slow down.
"Where's maternity?" he barked at the receptionist before she could greet them.
The witch behind the desk blinked, startled. "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, already turning toward the lifts. "Come on, keep up."
Pansy exchanged a look with Luna as they followed. "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 turning around. "I'm prepared. There's a difference."
"Sure," Pansy said dryly. "Let's go with that." She leaned closer to Luna. "I give it ten minutes before he interrogates a nurse about their credentials."
When they stepped onto the third floor, Blaise immediately locked onto a passing healer. "You there. I want the best room available. Charm reinforced walls. No flimsy privacy curtains. Make sure there's a fully stocked potions cabinet. We are not taking chances."
The healer hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, sir. We'll make sure everything is up to standard."
"Good," Blaise said. "And have someone double check the charms on the bed. I don't want my wife lying on anything that could malfunction halfway through labor."
Pansy stared after him. "Merlin's saggy pants, he's serious," she whispered. "I thought he'd calm down once we got here. This is somehow worse."
Luna smiled gently. "This is how Blaise copes when he's frightened," she said. "He cannot control what's happening with Ginny, so he controls everything else."
"Everything else?" Pansy echoed, watching him march toward the end of the corridor. "He looks like he's about to deliver the baby himself."
"Cleaning staff!" Blaise barked, making two witches and a wizard with enchanted mops jump. "That room needs to be sanitized thoroughly. No lingering charms older than twenty four hours. My wife is about to give birth, and I expect immaculate conditions. If I smell stale air, you answer to me."
The cleaning crew exchanged nervous looks and hurried away.
"Blaise," Ginny called calmly from behind him, one hand resting on her belly. "You need to stop terrorizing the staff."
He spun around. "They're here to ensure your safety," he said sharply. "This is your first labor. Do you know how many things can go wrong? Blood pressure spikes, miscast spells, poorly brewed potions"
"Vita mia," Ginny said gently, lifting her hand. "Breathe. You're spiraling."
"I'm not spiraling," he snapped, though his eye twitched. "I'm being thorough."
"Thorough," Pansy muttered. "Right."
A nurse approached with a clipboard. "Mrs. Zabini? Your room is ready. If you'll follow me"
"We'll follow you," Blaise said immediately. "And make sure the IV drip is set correctly. Manual regulation only. I want the best healer on duty assigned."
The nurse nodded quickly and led them down the hall.
"Are you always like this under pressure?" Pansy whispered.
"Only when it matters," he replied. "This is my wife and my child."
Pansy smirked. "You're acting like you're the one in labor."
He ignored her, focusing entirely on Ginny as Luna helped her onto the bed. For the first time since they arrived, his shoulders eased.
"Better?" Ginny asked.
"Almost," he said softly, brushing hair from her face. "Now that you're settled, maybe I can relax. A little."
"Good," Ginny said with a smile. "Because if you keep acting like a warlord, I'll ban you from the delivery room."
Pansy laughed outright. Luna smiled serenely.
"Well," Pansy said, "at least this will be memorable."
Blaise sighed under his breath, muttering about ungrateful friends, but he stayed right where he was, vigilant and ready, fully prepared to bark orders until his child was safely in his arms.
The moment they entered Ginny's room, the rest of the world seemed to fall away. Blaise's eyes swept the space with sharp precision, taking in the charms on the walls, the equipment beside the bed, every detail that could possibly matter. He was silent at first, his posture tight with restrained tension, until his gaze found Ginny. Something in him softened. His shoulders eased, and the severity in his expression gave way to open concern.
"Everything okay, my love?" he asked as he moved closer. He took her hand, his thumb brushing slow, grounding circles over her knuckles. His voice had lowered, gentler now, though the resolve beneath it remained unmistakable.
Ginny reclined against the pillows, looking tired but steady. She smiled up at him. "Yes, love. Everything's fine," she said calmly. "We're just waiting for things to get interesting." The teasing lilt in her tone did nothing to hide the fondness in her eyes as she watched him hover.
He squeezed her hand once, then released it and turned back to the room, his focus snapping sharply into place. "Good," he said, already scanning for problems. He stepped toward the nearest nurse with brisk authority.
"Is the birthing bed at the correct angle?" he asked, eyes narrowing. "I've read up on optimal positioning for labor. This had better be perfect. I'm not leaving anything to chance."
The nurse hesitated, then nodded quickly. "Yes, sir. The angle is correct." She flicked a glance at Ginny, clearly hoping for backup.
"Amore," Ginny said, amused despite herself. "Relax. You're acting like we're storming a fortress. I've done this before. Trust me, it's not that complicated."
He barely seemed to hear her. His attention had already shifted to the monitor beside the bed. He leaned in, studying the readings closely, muttering under his breath about spell calibration and mana levels.
Ginny sighed, her smile turning wry. "I swear, if he doesn't calm down soon, he's going to stress himself into early labor." She looked toward Pansy, who was lounging against the wall, openly entertained. "I think he actually believes he's the one giving birth."
"Oh, he absolutely does," Pansy said with a smirk, folding her arms. "You should've seen him on the way here. He was barking orders like we were headed into a siege. I half-expected him to ask for a security detail."
~~~~~~
Blaise's attention fixed on the maternity ward manager, a man in his late forties standing near the nurse's station. As Blaise moved toward him with measured steps, the manager straightened, tension flashing across his face.
"Mr. Zabini!" the manager said quickly. "Your wife is in excellent hands…"
Blaise lifted one hand, and the man stopped mid sentence. His voice was calm, even, and carried a quiet threat. "This is the most important day of my life. I expect perfection. No mistakes."
The manager swallowed and nodded at once. Blaise pressed a small pouch of galleons into his hand. "Priority care. Handle it personally."
Before stepping away, Blaise leaned closer, lowering his voice further. "If anything goes wrong, you will answer to me." He shifted his coat just enough to reveal the pistol at his side, the message unmistakable.
The manager went pale. "Understood, sir. Everything will be perfect."
Blaise's lips curved into a faint, cold smile. "Good. And make sure the tea is fresh. My wife deserves the best."
He turned and walked away, leaving the manager standing rigid, muttering under his breath about preferring dragons to Zabinis.
Back in the room, Pansy and Luna had clearly seen everything from the doorway, judging by the matching grins on their faces.
"Did you just threaten the maternity ward manager with a knife?" Pansy asked, lifting 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 easily as he settled back into the chair beside Ginny. "It was… encouragement."
"Encouragement," she echoed, her voice thick with sarcasm. "Right. And I suppose flashing your gun was just your way of saying 'thank you for your service.'"
He ignored her and turned fully toward Ginny, who was watching him with a mix of affection and tired exasperation. He took her hand again, his thumb moving gently over her knuckles as he leaned closer.
"How are you feeling?" he asked softly, the sharp edge gone from his voice.
Ginny smiled and curled her fingers around his. "Better now," she said warmly. "Even if you did just terrify half the staff."
"They'll appreciate it later when everything goes perfectly," Blaise replied, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth. "And if they don't… well, they'll still have all their limbs, so I'd call that a win."
Luna leaned toward Pansy and whispered 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 let out a quiet laugh and squeezed Blaise's hand. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"I'm yours," he said, 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 drink."
Luna smiled, calm as ever. "I think it's sweet. Besides, I'm sure the staff will recover… eventually."
As time crept forward, the air grew heavier, every second stretching thin. The early hours of labor had worn Ginny down, and now she was entering the pushing stage. Blaise had fallen quiet, his attention fixed on her every breath and movement, as though focus alone could ease her pain.
By then, Pansy and Luna had already returned to the Zabini residence at Blaise's insistence. They had offered to stay, but he refused to allow any distractions with his wife so close to giving birth.
"Go," he had said firmly. "I've got this."
Pansy had smirked on the way out, murmuring to Luna, "He's got this? More like he's one scream away from fainting."
Still, they left, trusting Blaise to do what he always did when it mattered most and take control.
~~~~~~
Blaise Zabini, who was usually composed and unreadable, was a mess today. He paced the room, wiped at his eyes, and stared down at his newborn son with open awe. Ginny lay back against the pillows, exhausted and glowing, watching him with fond amusement as he hovered.
"Dolce metà," she called softly.
He was at her side instantly. "Do you need anything? Water? Another pillow? A healer?"
She laughed quietly. "I'm fine. I've just never seen you like this."
"I'm sorry," he said, scrubbing a hand over his face. "He's perfect. And you… you're amazing." He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "I'll never take you for granted again."
"Good," she said with a tired grin. "Because I plan to milk this forever."
Blaise smiled and reached for Valerius's tiny hand, his eyes shining all over again.
"Alright," Ginny added, feigning seriousness. "If you cry again, I'm calling Pansy to drag you out."
The Floo flared in the corner of the room, and moments later Theo, Neville, Luna, and Pansy stepped through one after another.
Theo took one look at Blaise and burst into a grin. "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 glare that lacked any real bite. "Say one more word, Nott, and I'll make sure your next mission involves chasing pixies through the Forbidden Forest."
Theo lifted his hands. "Hey, no judgment. I think it's adorable."
Pansy swept straight to Ginny's bedside, eyeing her critically. "How are you holding up, Red? You look like you've been through hell."
Ginny snorted. "That's because I have. But at least I have this little guy to show for it." She shifted the baby so Pansy could see him properly.
"Oh, he's gorgeous," Pansy said softly, her expression melting. "Good job. And Blaise, well done on not fainting. I had my doubts."
Luna drifted closer, smiling dreamily. "He has Ginny's nose," she said. "And Blaise's serious little brow. He already looks like he's planning something."
Neville stepped forward at last, his face warm and open. "Congratulations. He's perfect."
"Thank you, Neville," Ginny said. She glanced at Blaise, who was still staring at Valerius as if afraid he might vanish. "Blaise, do you want to… you know, let them hold him?"
Blaise looked up in alarm. "What? No. He's too tiny. What if they drop him?"
Pansy rolled her eyes. "Oh, for Merlin's sake. We're not going to drop him. Give him here."
"No," Blaise said firmly, drawing Valerius closer. "He's fragile."
Theo laughed outright. "You've handled cursed artifacts with less care than that baby. Hand him over."
Only after Ginny gave him a pointed look did Blaise relent. He stood and transferred Valerius into Pansy's arms with painstaking care. Pansy cradled him with surprising ease, her sharp edge softening.
"Hello, little Valerius," she murmured. "Welcome to the madhouse. Don't worry. We'll make sure your dad doesn't turn you into a mini assassin too soon."
"Support his head properly, Pansy," Blaise said at once.
"I am supporting his head," she snapped. "Relax. He's fine."
Luna reached out and brushed Valerius's fingers. "He has such a strong aura. He's going to be a very special child."
Theo leaned in. "Well, he's already got Zabini's brooding intensity. Poor kid."
Neville smiled at Blaise. "You'll be a great dad. You already are."
Blaise watched them in silence, pride and anxiety twisting together in his chest. After a moment, he nodded. "Thanks, Longbottom."
Pansy handed Valerius back, and Blaise took him as if he were made of glass.
"Well," Pansy said, clapping her hands. "Now that we've met the heir to the Zabini empire, who's up for drinks? Ginny deserves something strong."
"I'll settle for pumpkin juice," Ginny said, laughing softly. "But go on. Celebrate for me."
As plans were tossed around, Blaise sat beside Ginny and leaned in to kiss her cheek.
"Thank you," he whispered. "For everything."
She rested her head against his shoulder. "We did it together."
He looked down at their son, emotion flooding him in a way he had never known. Nothing else mattered. Only this.
Ginny shifted slightly, her expression turning thoughtful. "Theo," she said gently. "Can you… perhaps go over to… you know, to Hermione? To tell her."
The room quieted. Theo straightened, his smile fading.
"Of course," he said. "So… you're still not talking to each other?"
Ginny closed her eyes briefly. "Please, Theo. Don't make this harder than it should be. I need my best friend more than life."
Theo nodded. "I'm going, Red. Don't worry."
He gave Blaise a brief nod and disappeared with a soft pop.
The silence that followed felt heavier. Luna broke it gently. "I think it's time for us to leave. We'll visit you and Val tomorrow."
"That would be lovely," Ginny said. "Thank you, Luna."
Neville leaned in for a careful hug. "We love you. You did amazing today."
"Thank you," Ginny said softly. "I love you all too."
Pansy adjusted her coat. "Well, this has been a surprisingly emotional day. See you."
"Try not to cause trouble," Blaise said.
"No promises," she replied with a wink.
One by one, they left, until only Blaise, Ginny, and Valerius remained. The quiet that settled over the room felt calm and earned, a gentle pause after everything that had come before.
~~~~~~
Theo had a knack for showing up unannounced, an ever-present fixture in their lives, and today was no exception. Without so much as a knock, he strode into their living room, looking as if he'd just waltzed off a train of thought so bizarre it could only come from his mind.
Hermione, who had been curled up on the couch with a book, glanced up at the sudden intrusion and barely had time to raise an eyebrow before Theo spoke, his voice booming with that confident tone of his that made everything sound like an urgent matter.
"Granger," he said, his eyes bright with that infamous gleam he always got when he was about to ask a question no one in their right mind could possibly anticipate. "I have an important question."
She looked up from her book, prepared for one of those philosophical, borderline absurd questions that Theo tended to throw at her out of nowhere. With a long-suffering sigh, she responded, "What is it? Let me guess—something about Jesus again?"
He chuckled, shaking his head, and took a seat without being invited, as usual. "No, no. But it's just as important, if not more." His eyes gleamed with the seriousness of someone who had just stumbled upon a great truth that the rest of the world clearly hadn't discovered yet.
"Alright," she said, bracing herself. "What's so important?"
Theo leaned forward, his face an open book of intrigue as if the entire universe depended on the answer to this question. "Why are pyramids shaped like that? Is it to stop homeless people from sleeping on them?"
Her mouth was half-open as she tried to comprehend what she had just heard. "What on earth are you talking about?"
He crossed his arms and leaned back into the couch with a smug look, as though he had just cracked the code of the universe. "What do you mean, Granger? It's obvious. Look at the way they're built—wide at the base and sharp at the top. If you're a homeless person, you're not exactly going to set up camp on the side of a pyramid, right?"
She stared at him in stunned silence, blinking repeatedly, as if the words were too outlandish to grasp in any coherent way. "Theo. Pyramids were built as tombs, not public utilities for stopping people from sleeping. How—why—would you even think that?"
"Well," Theo said, looking pleased with himself for having raised such an important point, "the shape just seems… a bit too strategic, don't you think? You've got a massive, flat surface at the bottom, and then it narrows to an impossible point at the top. It's like they were designed to be inaccessible. I'm just saying—it's a bit suspicious, isn't it?"
She rubbed her temples, a small headache beginning to form. "Theo, please. The pyramids were built by ancient Egyptians to honor their pharaohs. They were designed with religious and cultural significance, not as some sort of giant human repellent. You're overthinking this."
He shook his head stubbornly, his lips curling into a knowing smile as though Hermione was missing some great truth that was obvious to him. "Sure, sure. I mean, I get that it's all about religion and all, but the shape does seem a little too convenient. Think about it: these things are everywhere, especially in places where people might want to nap during the day, or—"
"Stop," she interrupted, her voice steady despite the confusion flooding her thoughts. "Theo, you're not suggesting that the ancient Egyptians were planning for modern-day problems like homelessness, are you?"
"Well," he said, scratching his chin thoughtfully, "I'm not not suggesting it. What I'm saying is that the shape might not be as accidental as we think. Maybe they were ahead of their time, like ancient architects with a bit of foresight."
She ran a hand through her hair, trying to remain patient, but she could feel herself starting to lose the plot entirely. "Theo, please, just... just stop talking for a second. You're giving me a headache," she said, covering her face with her hands for a moment. "I can't even begin to understand how you connect these ideas. How do you go from Jesus to pyramids and homelessness in one conversation?"
Theo pondered for a moment and then asked, "I have a better question. Why did they call World War I 'World War I'? It seems quite pessimistic to number it that way. Or they just know it was the start of a franchise?
Hermione sighed and replied, "Jesus Christ, At the time they weren't numbering the wars, although I think that in the I. World war the ideal of being a "Great" war denoting the sheer scale of the conflict. The term 'World War I' came about later, denoting the sheer scale of conflict, and the casualty rate was becoming used quite a lot."
Theo smiled a little too smugly for Hermione's liking, clearly undeterred by her lack of enthusiasm. "I mean, come on, Granger. You've got to admit it's a little funny. 'World War I'—like, they were just waiting for another one to show up, right? You've got to give it some credit for foresight. So it was called 'The Great War,' but not because it was great?"
Hermione shook her head, mentally preparing herself for the flood of nonsense that was sure to follow. "Theo, please," she said, her voice a mix of exhaustion and exasperation. "Just—stop. Leave. Go."
Theo, as expected, didn't heed her request. Instead, he continued with his trademark dramatic flair, leaning forward with the kind of urgency that could only be sustained by a person who believed they were on the cusp of a major revelation.
"Well, I do have some important news," Theo announced, his voice taking on an air of mystery. "Ginny had a son."
She blinked, utterly thrown off by this unexpected shift in conversation. She looked at Theo, then at Draco, who had been quietly listening in the corner of the room. They both sat there for a long moment, processing the weight of his words.
"What?" the Malfoy's both exclaimed in unison, their voices simultaneously tinged with confusion and shock.
"Ginny had a baby," he repeated, his lips curling into a grin that seemed to say, I know this is news to you, but I'm not going to make it easy for you to digest.
Draco, who was clearly fed up with the erratic direction the conversation had taken, glared at Theo. "You need to get your priorities straight, mate. You come barging in here asking about pyramids and then drop this bombshell on us like it's just another Tuesday."
Theo, unfazed by the chastisement, raised a hand defensively. "What? It's big news. And you lot are too caught up in your historical debates to notice. Priorities, Draco. You should try it sometime. I'm just making sure you're all in the loop."
Her expression softened as the gravity of Theo's words finally hit her. "Wait, when? When did this happen?" she asked, her voice laced with concern, suddenly all business.
"A few hours ago," he replied, his voice casual, but Hermione could hear the undercurrent of worry. "Blaise is with Ginny and the baby at the hospital right now. I thought you two would want to know."
Without even another word exchanged, Hermione and Draco exchanged a look that said everything. In an instant, they were both up on their feet, barely acknowledging Theo as they rushed to grab their things, a shared urgency propelling them forward.
"Come on, mon cœur," she said, already making her way to the door. "We need to go. Now."
Theo, having successfully derailed any semblance of normal conversation, watched them leave with a self-satisfied smirk. "See? Important news. Told you it was worth sticking around for."
Hermione didn't respond, too focused on getting to St. Mungo's Hospital to even entertain Theo's ego. The only thing on her mind now was Ginny, the baby, and how quickly they could get there.
~~~~~~
Theo had come home expecting quiet, maybe a kiss from Luna or a sharp remark that would make him smile. Instead, he stepped into chaos. Luna was on the floor, holding Bobsy in her arms, the house elf shaking and red eyed as if he had survived a battlefield.
Theo stopped short, his gaze darting between the sniffling elf and Luna's unsettling calm. Something in his chest tightened with warning, yet he spoke anyway. "What the hell happened now?"
Luna released a slow, tired breath and smoothed a hand over Bobsy's head, her touch gentle and steady. "Rough day—Lysander, two pugs, no backup. It was a massacre."
Bobsy let out a miserable hiccup and looked up at Theo, tears streaking his face. "I tried, Master Theo, I truly did! But the dogs—they chased the little master everywhere! He squealed so loudly, I thought my ears might fall off!"
Theo dragged a hand down his face, exhaustion already sinking in. "Right. That's it. Next time, I'm dealing with Parkinson's little hellhounds myself," he muttered, flexing his fingers as if bracing for a fight.
Luna's expression changed in an instant. The faint humor drained from her eyes, replaced by something cold and sharp. The room seemed to still around them. When she spoke, her voice was quiet and dangerous.
"Excuse me?"
She rose slowly, every movement deliberate, and Theo felt every instinct in his body recoil. When she stepped toward him, his stomach dropped.
"You don't get to dictate my friendships, Theodore."
The way she said his name sent a chill through him. He frowned, caught off guard. "Love, I didn't mean it like that, I just—"
"No." The word cracked through the room, stopping him cold. Her voice hardened, anger spilling through it. "You never mean it like that, do you? You never stop to think before you run your mouth."
He stared at her. "It's just—her dogs, Luna. They're turning Bobsy into a nervous wreck!"
"And yet," Luna snapped, her hands clenched at her sides, "you expect me to sit here and nod along while you play executioner to half the fucking world. The irony, Theo. The fucking irony."
Heat surged through him. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, don't make this into something it's not. This is about Pansy's dogs, Luna, not—"
"NO, THEO, THIS IS ABOUT YOU!"
Her voice echoed off the walls, raw and unrestrained, and Theo flinched before he could stop himself.
Luna moved closer, her eyes blazing, fury no longer contained. "It's always everyone else who's the problem, isn't it? Everyone else is too loud, too messy, too inconvenient for you. You pretend like you're above it all, but you are just as reckless, just as fucking disastrous, as the people you look down on."
Theo opened his mouth to answer, but she did not let him speak.
"You think you're a hero?" Her voice cracked with something raw and painful. "You think killing in the name of your own twisted sense of justice makes you noble? That it makes you any different from the men you put in the fucking ground?"
Theo's heart slammed against his ribs. He had been called many things over the years. Monster. Executioner. Nightmare. Never this. Never by her.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" he hissed, anger rising fast.
"Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about," she shot back. "You live in this delusion where you get to decide who lives and who dies, where you get to be the untouchable force holding everything together, and what you don't see is that you are just as dangerous as the people you claim to be protecting us from."
Theo took a step back. He had faced men who begged for their lives, men who cursed him with their last breath, and he had never retreated. Now, with Luna looking at him like she could see straight through every lie he told himself, it felt like something inside him was being stripped bare.
"You think this is just about Bobsy? About Pansy? You really think that's what this is about?" she continued, her voice shaking with fury. "Merlin, Theo, wake the fuck up."
He had nothing to say. His pulse roared in his ears, his chest tight as every word landed where it hurt most.
"Do you have any idea what it's like?" Her voice trembled, her expression twisting into something he barely recognized. "Do you know what it feels like to wonder if the man you love is going to come home with more blood on his hands? To have to explain to Bobsy why his master looks like he just walked out of a fucking warzone? To dread the day Lysander asks why his father's hands are never clean?"
Theo swallowed, his throat dry, his body locked tight with tension.
"You think you're protecting us, but you don't even see what you're doing to us," she said, her voice low and worn down. "You don't have to explain anything. You don't have to sit there and tell our son why his father spends his nights playing god with other people's lives. That'll be me, Theo. It'll always be me."
Pain flared in his chest, sharp and suffocating, heavier than guilt, heavier than regret.
"And the worst part?" she whispered, quieter now, devastating all the same. "You don't even care."
The words crushed him.
Luna drew in a slow breath, steadying herself, as if something had finally clicked into place.
Then she turned away.
"I'm done trying to make you see what's right in front of you," she said, her voice calm and final. "If you want to keep living in your own little world, fine. Just don't expect me to sit here and pretend it doesn't fucking terrify me."
And she walked away.
She did not slam doors or raise her voice. She simply left.
Theo stood there, alone, feeling it all at once. The weight of it. The unraveling. The sick realization that he had finally gone too far.
For the first time in years, fear took hold of him, real and unrelenting, and there was nowhere left to hide from it.
What had his life become?
Only hours ago he had been surrounded by warmth and laughter, standing in a hospital room while Ginny cradled her baby, feeling for a fleeting moment that things might finally be settling into something good. It had been unfamiliar peace, the kind he never quite trusted, and it had slipped away before he could hold onto it. Now everything felt sharp and disordered, frustration and confusion colliding as reality came down on him with brutal force.
Luna. His Luna. The woman he had built his world around, the one person he trusted without reservation, had turned on him with a fury he had never expected. Anger he could have faced. He understood anger. This was different. This was colder, heavier, something that dug into his chest and stayed there.
Disappointment.
Her voice still echoed in his head, low and steady, carrying a calm that cut deeper than shouting ever could. "You think you're the hero of your own story… but you're blind to the damage you've done."
The words circled him, relentless, waiting for him to break beneath them.
Had he not done what was necessary? Had he not survived, protected, endured? Had he not bled and sacrificed enough to keep the people he loved safe?
And at what cost?
He had isolated himself, convinced that the blood on his hands was a price that had to be paid, that violence and control and the choices he made in the dark were the only way to keep the world from swallowing them whole. Luna had seen past that. She had seen the aftermath. The stains he carried. The damage that followed him home.
And she had reached her limit.
He dragged a hand over his face, fingers pressing into his temples as if he could force the thoughts back into order. How was he meant to explain that he had never wanted this life? That every kill and every calculated move had come from a belief that there was no other option? That he took no pride in what he had become?
It did not matter. Wanting had nothing to do with it. He was this person now.
Luna had seen the whole truth of him, stripped bare, and she had turned away. She had not rejected a version or a misunderstanding. She had rejected him.
What had they even been, the two of them? He had always believed their love was untouchable, something solid and certain. Now he could see how fragile it really was, how it had been worn thin by every choice he made without her.
She had not been angry alone. She was exhausted. Finished.
"I'm done trying to explain, trying to make you see what's right in front of you. If you're going to keep living in your little bubble, then fine. But don't expect me to be there when it all comes crashing down."
He could feel it slipping away, no matter how tightly he tried to hold on. The control he had built his life around, the careful order he imposed on everything, was breaking apart. The one person who had anchored him through all of it was pulling free.
And he did not know how to stop it.
His thoughts spiraled. What had she meant? Was it anger speaking, something said in the heat of the moment, or a line she had already crossed in her mind?
Fear settled in his stomach, cold and unfamiliar.
Was it already too late?
He paced the room, running a hand through his hair, trying to trace the path that had led him here. That morning he had been standing in a hospital room, watching Ginny with her child, believing for a heartbeat that goodness still existed in the world. Now that memory felt distant, like something borrowed from another life.
He had focused so hard on control that he had ignored the cost. Luna. Bobsy. Lysander. In trying to keep his demons contained, he had let them tear through the people who mattered most.
And now Luna was walking away.
Pain settled deep in his chest, heavy and unyielding. She was hurt, and he had done that to her, piece by piece, without even realizing it until now.
And the worst part of it all was simple and unbearable.
He had no idea how to fix it, and the thought settled heavy in his chest. He considered going after her, apologizing, begging her to stay, yet every word he imagined sounded hollow in a life shaped by violence and secrets.
He could not tell whether anything he said would change what had already been broken, or whether he even deserved the chance to repair it.
The question of who he was had begun to blur, and worse than that was the realization that he no longer knew who he was without her.
Guilt tightened its grip, winding through him, eroding the control he relied on to survive, and the need to make things right pressed in with relentless force.
Still, he could not see a starting point, and that uncertainty, more than anything else, filled him with fear.