Their world had become a sanctuary, untouched by the chaos beyond its walls—a cocoon of love so impenetrable that neither had the desire to break free. The outside world could wait; their universe existed within the walls of Nott Manor, where time moved at their own pace, dictated only by the steady rhythm of their shared life.
Theo, ever vigilant and fiercely devoted, had made profound shifts to accommodate this new reality. Work, once his singular purpose, had faded into the background, replaced by an all-encompassing need to care for his pregnant nebula, his Luna. His priorities had shifted so naturally, so completely, that he hardly recognized the man he used to be—the one who had once lived only for ambition and duty. Now, his every waking thought revolved around her, his love manifesting in a thousand small gestures designed to make her feel cherished.
Each morning, before the first golden light of dawn stretched across their bedroom, he would press a lingering kiss to her forehead, his lips whispering silent promises against her skin. He had taken it upon himself to prepare breakfast, an endeavor fueled more by love than by skill. His attempts were often met with amusement—burnt toast and over-salted eggs were not uncommon—but she ate every bite with a smile, knowing that each meal was made with the deepest affection.
The manor, once a hollow expanse of cold marble and empty corridors, had transformed under her presence. Her laughter echoed through the halls, filling every corner with warmth. His once-sterile office, a space defined by rigid order, had softened into a place of comfort, a sanctuary where she could rest. He had placed a plush armchair by the grand window so she could sit and watch the world shift outside, her presence a quiet reassurance that made even his dullest tasks feel lighter.
Evenings became sacred—time carved out just for them, untouched by the rest of the world. He would read to her, his voice dipping low and soothing as he lost himself in the cadence of her favorite books. Other nights, he would recount the day's events, filling the silence with mundane office gossip or the minor annoyances of bureaucracy, just to see her smile. The way she looked at him during these moments, her eyes filled with quiet affection, was enough to make the rest of the world blur into insignificance.
And yet, beneath his devotion, fear lingered. Every sigh she released, every slight wince or moment of discomfort, sent his mind spiraling. He would check on her through the night, his fingers brushing against her skin to ensure she was still warm, still safe. His touch, though featherlight, carried the weight of his unspoken anxieties. He knew she found his protectiveness endearing—perhaps even overwhelming at times—but she never pushed him away, understanding that his love had always been fierce, relentless.
When work demanded his absence, his mind remained tethered to her. Meetings passed in a haze of half-listened conversations, his thoughts returning to her like an unbreakable tether. He counted down the hours until he could return, often arriving home with spontaneous gifts—a book she had once mentioned in passing, a bouquet of wildflowers plucked from the manor grounds, anything that might make her smile.
One particularly quiet evening, as they sat together in the glow of the fireplace, she rested her head against his shoulder, her fingers tracing absentminded patterns over his hand. She looked up at him then, her expression soft, her eyes filled with something deeper than gratitude—something infinite.
"You've done so much for me," she murmured, her voice carrying the weight of unspoken emotions. "I don't know how I would have managed without you."
His throat tightened at her words, and without hesitation, he turned to press a lingering kiss to her temple. "You are everything to me, my moonbeam," he whispered, his voice thick with devotion. "I'd move mountains for you if I could. Seeing you happy, safe, and loved is all I will ever need."
She smiled, reaching up to cup his cheek, her thumb brushing tenderly over his skin. In that moment, he knew—knew with a certainty that settled deep in his bones—that nothing in this world mattered more than this. Than her.
Their love, cocooned in the quiet sanctuary they had built together, remained unshaken. And though the world outside would continue its relentless march, here, in the warm embrace of their shared life, they had carved out a piece of eternity—just for them.
~~~~~~
The manor had taken on a new vibrancy, an infectious energy that could be traced back to the frequent visits of Pansy Parkinson. Ever since Luna's pregnancy had become more pronounced, Pansy had made it her personal mission to visit regularly, bringing with her an exuberance that stood in stark contrast to Theo's ever-growing, all-consuming protectiveness. If he was the overbearing guardian, constantly hovering and fussing, then Pansy was the antidote—bold, lively, and completely unbothered by his anxious tendencies.
She arrived like a whirlwind, her arms overflowing with gifts, her sharp tongue firing off quips before she was even through the front door. Every visit brought new baby clothes, enchanted toys, and charmed trinkets, each item chosen with the kind of devotion only a soon-to-be godmother could possess.
"Look at this!" she would exclaim, pulling out a ridiculously tiny knitted sweater or a rattle shaped like a snitch, practically vibrating with excitement. "I found this in Diagon Alley, and I simply couldn't leave without it. You know I have impeccable taste."
Luna, ever serene, would smile fondly, her fingers grazing the fabric of whatever gift Pansy had procured this time. "You really don't have to do all this, Pansy," she'd say, though the warmth in her voice made it clear how much she appreciated it.
Pansy would scoff, waving a dismissive hand. "Please. What is a little shopping compared to the sheer joy of spoiling my future godchild? This baby is going to have a wardrobe that even Draco Malfoy would envy."
Afternoons with Pansy were filled with laughter, idle chatter, and long-winded stories that drifted between nostalgia and the ridiculous. Her presence injected a necessary lightheartedness into the manor, cutting through the tension Theo so often carried on his shoulders. He had spent so much of the pregnancy in a perpetual state of worry that, for the first time in weeks, he found himself genuinely relaxing, caught between his wife's quiet amusement and Pansy's relentless theatrics.
Of course, he still hovered—just a little.
"Theo, sit down before you start pacing again," Pansy drawled one afternoon, arching a perfectly manicured brow at him. "Honestly, you act like she's made of glass. She's pregnant, not cursed."
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, but sat nonetheless. "I just want to make sure she's comfortable."
"She's perfectly comfortable," Pansy shot back before smirking. "Unlike you. When was the last time you left the house, Nott? Do you even remember what fresh air feels like?"
Luna, eyes twinkling with barely contained amusement, turned to him. "Pansy's right, my Sun. We could use some time to ourselves."
Before he could protest, Pansy was already shooing him toward the hallway with a dramatic flick of her wrist. "Theodore, kindly fuck off and take that dog for a walk. Luna and I need to discuss very important girl things."
He blinked at her, stunned. "What do you mean, 'girl things'? What sort of things—?"
"Scandalous things," she said, her grin entirely too mischievous.
Luna hid her giggle behind her hand, looking at him with affectionate amusement. "Don't worry, love. We'll be fine without you for a little while."
Theo, still skeptical but vastly outnumbered, exhaled in defeat. "Fine. But if I come back to find that you've talked her into something absurd—"
"Oh, please," Pansy said with a wink. "I would never do such a thing. No promises."
With a resigned shake of his head, he grabbed the leash from the hook by the door and stepped outside, Lady yapping excitedly at his feet.
He had barely made it ten steps before he realized this had been a grave mistake.
The pug—small, frantic, and utterly insufferable—was more trouble than she was worth. She darted erratically across the estate grounds, barking at anything that moved. A breeze? Bark. A fallen leaf? Bark. Her own reflection in a puddle? A cacophony of barking. Theo, muttering curses under his breath, tried to maintain some semblance of control, but it was a losing battle.
What a stupid name for a stupid dog.
The estate's usual tranquility shattered the moment Lady was let loose. The once peaceful grounds—where fairies flitted lazily through the breeze and nymphs basked in the dappled sunlight—erupted into chaos as the tiny terror rampaged through them like an unhinged whirlwind. Winged creatures shrieked and scattered, darting into trees or disappearing into the undergrowth, while garden gnomes abandoned their usual mischief and dove headfirst into their burrows, unwilling to risk an encounter with the yapping menace.
Theo, barely holding onto his patience, let out a string of muttered curses as the pug tore through the estate, barking wildly at everything in its path. A delicate sprite had the misfortune of fluttering too close, only to zip away with a startled squeak when the dog lunged after it. But the real disaster came when the hippogriff—dignified, elegant, and wholly unamused—was dragged into the madness.
The massive creature let out an indignant screech, its feathers bristling as it stomped the ground in agitation. It flared its wings, eyes blazing with affront as though deeply offended by the existence of Lady herself.
"Brilliant," he groaned, lunging forward to snatch the pug's leash before it could get any closer to the feathered beast. He barely managed to grab hold of the squirming, wriggling thing before it could insult the hippogriff further. "Alright, alright, I get it—you're a menace. And this is why we can't have nice things."
The hippogriff glowered at him, nostrils flaring as if to say control your beast, human. Theo gave it a weary nod of apology before dragging the little demon back toward the manor, his dignity hanging by a thread.
As he reached the steps, he could hear laughter spilling from within, light and carefree, a sound so sweet it nearly made him forget his suffering. Nearly.
When he stepped inside, Luna was waiting for him, her expression alight with amusement. "How was the walk?" she asked, the corners of her mouth twitching as she tried—and failed—to suppress a smile.
He gave her a long, deadpan stare before running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "Let's just say I think that thing may have single-handedly traumatized every living creature on the estate."
Pansy, lounging beside Luna with a glass of tea in hand, grinned wickedly. "Did my precious baby terrorize the hippogriff too?"
Theo groaned, dropping onto the nearest chair. "The hippogriff looked personally offended. I think it was about to challenge me to a duel."
The two women burst into laughter, their earlier conversation momentarily forgotten in favor of his misery. Luna's laughter—soft and lilting—wrapped around him like warmth itself, and despite his ordeal, he found himself smiling. If nothing else, he had managed to provide them with entertainment.
The manor, once steeped in his perpetual worry, had become something else entirely. Pansy's presence had infused it with something lighter, something vibrant. Gone were the days of hushed footsteps and anxious fretting; instead, the halls echoed with laughter, playful banter, and the warmth of companionship.
And yet, through it all, his devotion to Luna remained steadfast. His care, though sometimes excessive, was his love language—his way of ensuring that she wanted for nothing, that she was safe and cherished. But Pansy had given him something he didn't know he needed: a reminder that joy and protection could coexist. That his love didn't have to be wrapped in fear.
As the days slipped by, anticipation built steadily, the reality of the baby's arrival sinking deeper into their bones. And while they weren't just a couple anymore, but a trio bound by an unshakable bond, Theo found comfort in one undeniable truth: Luna was loved. Not just by him, but by the people who mattered most.
And for that, he would be forever grateful.
~~~~~~
A few weeks before the baby was due, they invited Pansy and Neville over for a quiet dinner at their estate. As the sun began its descent, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, the atmosphere was serene, with a gentle breeze rustling the leaves outside. The dining room felt warm and inviting, a perfect haven adorned with soft lighting that highlighted the carefully set table. The aroma of a home-cooked meal wafted through the air, wrapping around them like a comforting embrace.
Pansy and Neville arrived with a bottle of wine, and as they entered, Luna greeted them with her usual ethereal charm, her hair cascading like a waterfall of moonlight. "I hope you're both hungry!" she exclaimed, ushering them inside. Theo followed, his warm smile instantly putting them at ease.
As they settled around the table, laughter bubbled to the surface, weaving a tapestry of stories and memories that connected them. They reminisced about their time at Hogwarts, sharing humorous anecdotes about their mischievous escapades, the trials of adolescence, and the lessons learned. Neville, ever the passionate herbalist, took center stage, regaling them with tales of his latest discoveries in the greenhouse. He spoke animatedly about a new strain of plant he was cultivating, a rare breed known for its healing properties. "You wouldn't believe how vibrant the colors are, Pansy," he said, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "It's like they have a personality of their own!"
Pansy, always quick with a witty remark, interjected playfully, "I can just picture it now—those plants would probably have a tea party of their own if you let them!" The room erupted with laughter, and even Theo couldn't help but chuckle at the mental image.
Dinner progressed with delicious dishes and engaging conversation, each course more delightful than the last. As they savored the final bites of dessert, a rich chocolate torte that Luna had expertly prepared, a comfortable silence settled over the group. The kind of silence that felt natural and warm, filled with the joy of companionship.
Then, her demeanor shifted slightly, her expression growing serious yet tender. She turned to Pansy, her eyes sparkling with sincerity. "Pansy," she began, her voice soft but filled with emotion, "Theo and I have been talking, and we would be honored if you would consider being our child's godparents."
Pansy's eyes widened in surprise, and her hand instinctively flew to her mouth as she exchanged a shocked glance with Neville, who mirrored her astonishment. "Oh, Luna, Theo," She exclaimed, her voice trembling with emotion, "we would be absolutely honored!"
Neville, a smile breaking across his face, nodded enthusiastically. "We'd be thrilled, truly. It means so much to us that you would ask." His voice was steady, filled with the warmth of the moment.
Theo smiled, his eyes shining with gratitude as he looked at them. "We couldn't think of anyone better to help guide our child through life. You two have always been such good friends to us."
Her eyes sparkled, radiating joy as she looked at Pansy and Neville. "You've been wonderful friends, and we know you'll be fantastic godparents."
Pansy reached across the table to squeeze her hand, feeling an overwhelming sense of love and connection. "Thank you, both of you. We promise to be there for your child, to love and support them in every way we can." She felt the weight of the commitment, but it was a weight she welcomed with open arms.
As the conversation continued, they shared dreams for the child's future—Pansy and Neville playfully debating whether the little one would inherit her dreamy nature or his pragmatism. The four of them sat together, the weight of the coming weeks lightened by the warmth of their friendship and the joy of welcoming a new life into their circle.
The evening ended with a toast to the future, their glasses clinking together as they made promises of love, support, and adventure. "To family," he said, his voice steady and sincere, "to friendship, and to new beginnings."
The air around them seemed to hum with anticipation, the bonds of friendship deepening with every shared moment. They sat long after the meal was finished, enjoying the lingering taste of dessert and the warmth of companionship, basking in the happiness of knowing that they would all be part of something beautiful together. As they laughed and talked late into the night, the stars twinkling outside, they felt an undeniable connection, a family not just by blood but by choice, and a promise of love and adventure that awaited them al l.
~~~~~~
Theo knew asking Blaise to be the godfather would be a challenge, given his friend's notorious reluctance to show emotions and his penchant for witty repartee over serious conversations. Still, he was determined, knowing how important it was to him and Ginny to have Blaise in their child's life.
To make the moment special, they invited Blaise and Ginny over for dinner. The atmosphere was relaxed and cozy, with the dining room lit by flickering candles and the aroma of a delicious meal filling the air. They shared stories and laughter, the conversation flowing effortlessly as the evening progressed.
After dinner, as they sat in the living room sipping on their drinks, Theo decided it was time. He cleared his throat, glancing at Luna, who gave him an encouraging nod. "Blaise," Theo began, his voice steady but earnest, "Luna and I have been thinking a lot about our future and the people we want to be a part of our child's life."
Blaise, usually quick with a quip, simply raised an eyebrow, sensing the gravity of the moment. Theo continued, "We'd be honored if you would be our child's godfather."
For a moment, Blaise was silent, his usual jovial expression replaced with one of genuine surprise. He looked at Ginny, who smiled warmly, then back at Theo and Luna. "You really want me?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.
Luna nodded, her expression warm and genuine. "No one else comes to mind but you, Blaise. You've always been there for us, and we know you'll be an amazing godfather."
Blaise blinked, clearly touched. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "Well," he started, his voice wavering slightly, "I suppose I could find room in my heart for a little one." His attempt at levity couldn't hide the emotion in his eyes.
Big scary boy was shedding a few tears .
Ginny reached over and squeezed his hand, her smile filled with affection. "You'll be great, Blaise."
Theo, sensing the moment's significance, simply nodded. "I…Thank you, Blaise. It means a lot to us."
As the evening wound down, they sat together, the bonds of friendship strengthened by the promise of a new beginning. And for a brief moment, Blaise allowed himself to feel the depth of emotion, grateful for the honor bestowed upon him.
~~~~~~
As the final weeks of her pregnancy unfolded, discomfort settled into her body like an unwelcome guest. The effortless grace she had always carried was now replaced with slow, deliberate movements, each step measured and careful. Her smiles, though still warm and filled with that ethereal glow, were edged with exhaustion. And Theo—already prone to intense devotion—had become more attentive, more possessive, more everywhere.
He was relentless in his care, hovering so closely that he seemed like an extension of her shadow. His hands found her belly as if drawn by an invisible force, his fingers tracing soothing patterns across the stretched skin. He would rest his forehead against her, whispering soft reassurances and weaving stories into her womb, speaking to their child as though they were already a part of their every conversation. Each flutter, each kick, each tiny shift beneath his palm sent awe spiraling through him, a quiet reverence lighting up his face.
"Theo, I'm fine," she'd tell him gently, her voice laced with fond exasperation. "You don't have to worry so much."
But fine wasn't good enough for him. Not when she was carrying something so precious. Not when she was so precious.
"I know, love," he'd murmur, though his actions never reflected acceptance of her words. His watchful gaze rarely strayed from her, as if by sheer will he could shield her from discomfort, from strain, from the weight of what was to come. "But I can't help it. I need to make sure you and the baby are safe."
She would smile then, the kind of soft, knowing smile that undid him completely. And when she placed her hand over his, their fingers weaving together atop the gentle swell of their unborn child, something inside him settled.
"We are," she'd whisper, a quiet promise between them.
And for a fleeting moment, the world beyond their home ceased to exist—no past, no uncertainty, no looming future. Just the three of them, bound together in a cocoon of love, anticipation, and the quiet, steadfast certainty that wherever they went from here, they would go together.
~~~~~~
The door creaked open, and she stepped in, ethereal as ever. The glow of candlelight flickered over the room, casting long, golden shadows across the carefully arranged flowers, their petals scattered like poetry across the bed. The air was thick with warmth, a quiet hum of anticipation woven into every detail.
Her eyes swept over the scene, a slow smile curving her lips. "What's all this, my love?"
Theo turned, his gaze drinking her in, as though he could imprint the sight of her onto his soul. "It's for you," he murmured, his voice hushed with reverence. "Because you deserve to be worshipped."
She stepped closer, the air between them charged, pulling them together like magnets. "And how do you plan to worship me, my Sun?" she teased, though her voice wavered with the same heat that simmered in his gaze.
His hand reached out, fingertips tracing along her jaw before tilting her chin up to meet his. "With my hands," he whispered, letting his fingers drift down her throat, over the curve of her shoulder. "With my lips." He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "With my cock."
A shiver ran through her, her breath hitching as she held his gaze. "Confident, aren't you?"
He smirked, brushing his lips over the shell of her ear. "With you? Always." His hands ghosted down her arms, fingers lacing with hers. "But I promise, love, I'll make it worth your while."
Her eyes gleamed with challenge. "Then you'll have to work for it, my Sun."
He grinned, sweeping her into his arms before she could protest. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
Their mouths met in a searing kiss, tongues tangling, bodies pressed flush against each other. She felt the hardness of him against her stomach, and a soft moan escaped her lips.
"Your eyes," he murmured against her mouth, his hands gripping her waist.
She arched against him, pressing a kiss to the sharp edge of his jaw. "And your hands," she whispered, guiding them to the curve of her hips. "An artist's hands. I wonder what they could do."
His gaze darkened, his voice dipping into a husky whisper. "Would you like to find out?"
She nodded, her heart hammering. "Yes."
With deliberate slowness, he trailed his fingers down the front of her dress, his touch featherlight, teasing. "You're beautiful, my moon," he breathed, tracing the fabric along her curves. "I want to paint you—with my hands, my mouth, my cock."
She gasped at his words, her nipples pebbling beneath the thin silk. "Theo… you're shameless."
"Only with you," he growled, capturing her mouth in another deep kiss. His hands roamed freely now, cupping her breasts, squeezing her ass, pulling her against him like he could press her into himself.
"Fuck, sugar," he groaned against her lips. "I need you. Now."
He lifted her effortlessly, carrying her toward the bed, laying her down with care despite the heat racing through his veins. He hovered over her, his eyes smoldering. "Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you."
She reached up, brushing her fingers through his dark hair. "I want you to make love to me," she whispered, her voice dripping with desire. "I want you to make me come."
His lips curled into a wicked smile. "As you wish."
He started slow, his kisses trailing down her body like brushstrokes, painting her in worship. He kissed along her thighs, his hands massaging, kneading, until she writhed beneath him, desperate for more. When he reached the damp fabric of her knickers, he smirked against her skin.
"Already wet for me, sugar?" His voice was dark, teasing.
"Yes," she gasped, her hands fisting the sheets.
With torturous patience, he dragged her panties down, baring her to him. He pressed a reverent kiss to her inner thigh before lowering his mouth to her. The first stroke of his tongue sent a sharp moan through her, her back arching off the bed.
"Theo," she whimpered, her hands tangling in his hair.
He groaned at the way she reacted to him, the way her body yielded, trembled. "You taste so fucking good," he murmured against her, before licking a long, slow stripe through her folds.
She cried out, her legs trembling as he feasted on her, his tongue circling, flicking, teasing. His fingers slid into her, curling, seeking, finding that spot that made her toes curl.
"Yes, oh gods, yes," she gasped, her hips rolling against his mouth.
"Come for me," he murmured against her clit, before sucking it between his lips.
Her body tensed, her cries breaking into breathless gasps as she shattered beneath his touch, waves of pleasure rippling through her.
When he pulled away, his lips were slick with her, his gaze heavy-lidded with hunger. "You're perfect, my beautiful pregnant angel," he murmured, licking his lips.
She barely had time to recover before she was tugging him up, her fingers working at the buttons of his shirt with desperate urgency. "Fuck me, Theo. Please."
His shirt hit the floor, followed by the rest of his clothes, his cock standing thick and ready between them. He crawled over her, caging her beneath him.
"Now, Sunny," she urged, her voice breathless.
He lined himself up, pressing the head of his cock against her slick entrance. Their eyes met, locked, as he pushed inside, filling her inch by inch.
They moaned in unison, her body stretching to accommodate him.
"Fuck," he groaned, resting his forehead against hers. "You feel so good—better every time."
"Harder, Theo," she demanded, her nails digging into his back. "Fuck me harder."
He obeyed, his hips snapping against hers, driving into her with deep, unrelenting thrusts. The room filled with the sound of their bodies meeting, the mingling of moans and gasps.
Her climax built quickly, the pleasure so intense it left her gasping. "Oh, Theo—I'm coming, I'm coming again—"
His fingers found her clit, rubbing, circling, pushing her over the edge. She screamed his name, her body clenching around him, pulling him with her. With a shuddering groan, he followed, his cock pulsing as he spilled inside her.
They collapsed together, bodies damp with sweat, limbs tangled. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in.
"That was..." she murmured, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest.
He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. "We've only just begun, my love." He leaned back, his eyes smoldering. "I want to paint you in every color, in every sensation. I want to make you come until you forget your own name."
She laughed, her eyes dark with promise. "I can't wait."