They woke early that morning, sunlight gently streaming through the curtains as they prepared for brunch. Luna brought him his coffee, the steam rising delicately from the cup. He lay there in bed, bare and exposed, his body relaxed in the early light, offering himself entirely to her without words. There was an intimacy in the quiet moments between them, in the way he trusted her presence—comfortable, unguarded. She smiled softly, her gaze lingering on him before placing the cup on the nightstand, savoring the quiet before the day began.
Sensing his desire, she leaned in closer to him, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss. As their tongues intertwined, she let out a soft moan, her body pressing against his.
His hands roamed over her body, exploring every inch of her curves and teasing her nipples through the fabric of her lingerie. She arched her back, her breath hitching as his fingers pinched and twisted her nipples, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body.
With a wicked smile, he stood up and pulled her to her feet, his hands gripping her ass as he guided her over to the plush armchair. He sat down, pulling her onto his lap and spreading her legs wide open, exposing her dripping wet pussy to his gaze.
She let out a soft gasp as his fingers traced the outline of her soft and wet lips, teasing her and making her crave more. She rocked her hips, grinding her pussy against his fingers as he slipped them inside her, fucking her slowly and deeply.
His other hand reached around, slapping her ass hard and making her yelp with pleasure. He continued to spank her, leaving red handprints on her pale skin as he fucked her with his fingers.
She moaned and writhed, her body on fire with pleasure as he brought her closer and closer to the edge. Just as she was about to cum, he pulled his fingers out of her cunt and stood up, his giant cock springing free from his pants.
Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of his massive cock, her pussy growing even wetter at the thought of having it inside her. Theo grinned, positioning himself at the entrance to her pussy and slowly pushing inside.
She let out a long, low moan as his cock filled her, stretching her to her limits and making her pussy throb with pleasure. He began to fuck her, thrusting deep and hard as she cried out with each stroke.
As they made love, he reached up and pinched her nipples again, twisting and pulling them as she begged for more. He spanked her ass, leaving it red and sore as he drove into her harder and faster.
She could feel herself on the brink of orgasm, her body trembling with pleasure as he fucked her with everything he had. With a final, desperate cry, she came, her pussy clenching around his cock as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.
He followed soon after, his cock twitching and pulsing as he filled her cunt with his hot, sticky cum. They collapsed together, spent and satisfied, their bodies entwined as they caught their breath.
~~~~~~
" Who's on the guest list today?" Hermione inquired, a hint of nervousness lingering in her voice despite her poised demeanor.
Ginny scanned the opulent room, her fiery hair catching the sunlight. "The usual suspects, really. Harry and Cho are supposed to be here already, and Luna and Theo mentioned they'd make an appearance."
A genuine smile broke across Hermione's face. "It'll be good to catch up with Harry and Cho too."
"They'll be here any minute," Ginny confirmed, glancing at her watch. "Theo mentioned a slight delay, but Luna's fashionably early as always."
Draco's gaze swept the room, his usual stoicism replaced by a relaxed curiosity. "It's good to see some familiar faces again."
Hermione offered a small smile, smoothing the emerald folds of her dress. "Indeed. It has been a while."
Ginny's smile widened, her eyes sparkling with warmth. "Don't worry, Hermione. They'll be thrilled to see you. And seeing you two together...well, let's just say it'll be the highlight of their day."
The air crackled with unspoken anticipation. Hermione and Draco exchanged a silent glance, a silent promise of support hanging between them.
As if on cue, Luna's voice echoed through the grand room, all eyes turned toward her. She was a breath of fresh air in the opulent space, her whimsical energy contrasting the formality of the gathering. The signature radish earrings swayed playfully with each step, catching the light as she made her way toward the group. Her smile was infectious, immediately lifting the atmosphere, and her ethereal presence seemed to fill the room with warmth.
"Hello, everyone!" she repeated, her voice like a song, bringing an instant lightness to the group. Her eyes sparkled with her usual carefree charm, as if the world outside held no weight against the joy she carried within.
Hermione, who had been feeling a nervous flutter in her chest just moments before, relaxed at the sight of her friend. "Babe," she greeted warmly, rising from her seat and moving to embrace her. The tension that had subtly hung in the air now melted away with her arrival.
Luna hugged her back with an exuberance that could only be hers. "Mimi! I've missed you. You look radiant, just like a moonlit forest."
Hermione chuckled at her typical but endearing oddness. "Thank you, babe. It's wonderful to see you too."
Theo strolled in behind her, a relaxed smile tugging at his lips as he scanned the room. His eyes briefly met Draco's in a wordless exchange before he turned his attention to the others.
"Apologies for the delay, everyone," Theo remarked casually, his deep voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Luna had me wrapped up in something important." His tone was light, but there was a knowing glance exchanged between him and Draco—unspoken truths understood by the few who knew them well.
"By 'important,' I assume you mean something quirky and delightful," Ginny teased with a grin, her fiery hair catching the sunlight as she moved to greet Luna and Theo.
"Naturally," she replied with a cheeky smile, "but I'll save the details for later."
Following close behind was Harry, his familiar scar hidden beneath a shock of messy black hair. Cho, her raven hair cascading down her back, walked beside him, a shy smile gracing her lips.
Relief washed over Hermione as she saw her friends. Pushing away the remnants of her nervousness, she rose to greet them with a genuine smile. Harry, his face lighting up with warmth, pulled her into a tight hug. Years might have passed, adventures shared and scars earned, but the comfort of their friendship remained undimmed.
"Hermione!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine joy. "It's been too long."
"Harry," she replied, squeezing him back just as tightly. "Too long indeed. It's wonderful to see you."
Draco watched the interaction with a flicker of something akin to approval in his eyes. He straightened in his chair as Harry turned towards him, extending a hand. "Draco," Harry greeted with a nod, his voice devoid of animosity.
Draco met his handshake firmly. "Potter," he acknowledged, his tone neutral.
A smile broke across Luna's face. "Lovely to see you all together!" she declared, her voice brimming with her usual brand of whimsical cheer. "Now, who wants to hear about the Wrackspurts I found nesting in my attic?"
Laughter filled the air as everyone found their seats around the table. The tension that had hung heavy earlier began to dissipate, replaced by the comforting warmth of camaraderie. Stories flowed easily, punctuated by bursts of laughter and reminiscing. Hermione, nestled comfortably next to Draco, found herself relaxing, the initial apprehension replaced by a quiet contentment. Surrounded by loved ones, both old and new, she felt a spark of hope for the future flicker within her.
Hermione's apprehension melted away with each passing moment. Laughter filled the air, punctuated by the clinking of silverware and lively conversation. Glancing at Draco, she found him engaged in a surprisingly animated discussion with Harry and Theo, a genuine smile warming his features.
An unfamiliar flicker of something akin to pride sparked within her.
Across the table, Theo, ever the jester, broke the comfortable silence. "Ah, so the eagle's nest, the lion's cave opening, and the snake's den, all gathered under one roof, huh?" he remarked, a playful glint in his eyes.
Draco chuckled, a sound rarely heard these days. "Looks like we've almost got all the Hogwarts houses covered, wouldn't you say, Potter?"
Harry, ever the Gryffindor, met Draco's gaze with a hint of amusement. "Just missing a loyal Hufflepuff, Malfoy."
A small smile tugged at Hermione's lips. "Perhaps next time," she chimed in, the playful banter warming her heart.
Ginny, ever the peacemaker and bridge between their worlds, interjected with a warm smile. "It's good to see all of you together like this. A Hogwarts reunion, in a way, wouldn't you say?"
Theo raised his glass, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "To Hogwarts, surviving the trials it threw our way, and to the unlikely friendships forged in the flames!"
The friends, united by a shared history and a bond forged in the crucible of war, clinked their glasses in a toast. The sound echoed through the opulent room, a testament to the enduring power of friendship, love, and the unexpected connections that bloom even in the most unlikely places.
Maybe things weren't perfect, but they were getting there. And for now, that was enough.
~~~~~~
The others had long since left, their laughter and conversations fading into the quiet hum of the house. The late afternoon sun streamed through the tall windows, casting golden streaks across the wooden floors. The scent of coffee and the last remnants of brunch still lingered in the air as Luna and Ginny moved about the dining room, clearing plates and straightening chairs.
Ginny wiped down the table with practiced ease, while Luna, in her usual effortless way, levitated a stack of dishes toward the sink. A comfortable silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the occasional soft clinking of silverware.
"I'm so happy that Harry and Cho could come too," Luna said, her voice light as she directed another plate into the air.
Ginny stilled for just a fraction of a second, her fingers tightening around the edge of the dish in her hand before she forced herself to keep moving. She let out a small, easy laugh, shaking her head. "Yeah, it was really good to see them in person for once. Feels like we've all been playing catch-up through letters lately."
She floated another dish toward the sink, watching as Luna tilted her head slightly, studying her with that ever-curious expression of hers. "Isn't it awkward, though?" she asked, her voice gentle but direct. "Between the two of you, I mean?"
Ginny let out a light chuckle, though the sound was a little too rehearsed, a little too quick. "Between us? No, of course not. We didn't date that long, really, and it feels like a lifetime ago now." She shrugged, her tone carefully measured. "Harry's family at this point. We've been through too much together for things to be awkward."
Luna hummed, sending another plate gliding smoothly toward the counter. "It must be nice, having that kind of bond. The kind that doesn't fade, no matter what."
Ginny turned to her, the warm glow of the setting sun catching in her red hair. "It is," she admitted, a quiet fondness creeping into her voice. "And in a way, I think it's the same for all of us who went through the war. We're all tied together, even if we end up in different places, with different people."
There was a pause, just long enough for something unspoken to settle between them. Ginny glanced toward the door, as if half-expecting to see a familiar mess of dark hair pass by. But, of course, Harry wasn't there. He had already left—with her.
Luna watched her carefully, though she said nothing for a moment. She merely stacked the last of the dishes, her movements slow and deliberate. "Things change," she said eventually, her voice thoughtful. "But that connection doesn't disappear, does it?"
Ginny inhaled softly, her fingers tightening around the towel she had been using to dry her hands. "No," she murmured, more to herself than to Luna. "It doesn't."
She turned back with a smile, bright and practiced, the kind she had perfected over the years. "It's comforting, though, knowing that some things are permanent. That even after everything, we're still here for each other."
Luna met her gaze, her silvery eyes full of quiet understanding. "Like the roots of a tree," she mused. "No matter how far the branches grow, they're still connected to the same foundation."
Ginny let out a breath of laughter, shaking her head. "That's a very you thing to say, Luna." But her smile softened, more real this time. "And yeah, I think you're right."
Luna beamed, her hands now free of dishes, and spun in a slow, absentminded twirl, as if to soak in the warmth of the room. "It makes everything feel lighter, doesn't it? Like no matter what happens, we'll always have each other."
Ginny nodded, pressing the towel into the counter, her thoughts quieter now, less tangled. "Yeah," she said softly. "And I wouldn't trade that for anything."
She meant it. She did.
Even if, sometimes, late at night, when the house was quiet and the world felt still, she found herself wondering about a different path—a path where things hadn't changed, where she still got to be the girl who he had chosen first.
~~~~~~
They arrived home late in the evening, the soft glow of twilight casting long shadows over the front steps of their cottage. Luna moved slower these days, her hand resting protectively over her swollen belly. Only a few weeks left, and though the thought of their baby filled her with excitement, she couldn't help but feel impatient to get it over with.
The weight, the discomfort, the endless questions about the future—it was all becoming a bit too much.
He noticed the strain on her face and immediately set to work, helping her out of her shoes as they stepped inside.
He had been unbuckling her sandals with the utmost care, his fingers gentle against her skin, when her question shattered his peace like a bolt of lightning from a clear sky.
"Ah, my Sun," she mused, settling into the plush armchair by the fireplace. "Do you have many ex-girlfriends?"
He froze. Absolutely, completely froze.
His fingers, still curled around the delicate strap of her sandal, went stiff. His breath hitched. His heart stopped. The blood drained from his face so fast he felt momentarily lightheaded.
Slowly—so painfully slowly—he lifted his gaze to hers, his expression stricken with the kind of horror usually reserved for death sentences and impending war.
"Ex-girlfriends?" he croaked, as if the very word was foreign to him.
She watched him with innocent curiosity, her silvery eyes twinkling in the firelight. "Yes, my love," she said, tilting her head ever so slightly, "Have you had many?"
He shot to his feet so fast he nearly knocked over the entire coffee table.
"Luna, my moon, my stars, my entire bloody universe," he gasped, one hand flying to his heart, as if to physically keep it from bursting from his chest. "Why would you say something so terrifying out of nowhere? What—what does this mean? Why are you asking me this? Is this a test? Am I failing? Gods, I'm failing, aren't I?"
She merely blinked up at him, amused but patient. "I was just curious, Theo. No need for theatrics."
"Theatrics?!" he cried, his voice breaking slightly as he threw his hands in the air. "My wife just casually asks me about my ex-girlfriends and I'm supposed to react like a sane man?!" He whirled around, pacing wildly across the room. "Luna, I wasn't exactly the 'dating' type in my youth. Have you forgotten that you took my virginity? Do you not remember that I was a fumbling, hopeless mess with exactly one—one!—disastrous attempt at a relationship before you waltzed into my life and ruined me for anyone else?"
She hid her smile behind her hand, her eyes dancing with amusement. "I remember, my love," she said lightly. "But I was wondering… was there ever anyone you thought might have been 'the one that got away'?"
He staggered backward as if she had physically struck him.
"LUNA!" he bellowed, gripping the back of the couch for support. "What are you saying? What are you implying? Are you trying to send me into cardiac arrest?!" He began pacing again, his hands raking through his dark hair in absolute distress. "Merlin's balls, woman! Why—why are you asking me this? Do you—do you—do you have someone that got away? Is there some bastard out there walking around with your heart and I never knew?!" His eyes widened with sheer panic. "Do I need to kill someone? Because I will—just say the word and consider it done!"
She let him spiral for another moment before she reached out, catching his wrist mid-gesture, and tugged him gently toward her.
"Theo," she said soothingly, her fingers brushing over his pulse point in a way that made his frantic heartbeat slow just a fraction. "Calm down."
"I can't calm down," he rasped, but he let himself be pulled to his knees in front of her, where he buried his face in her lap like a man seeking absolution.
She smiled, running her fingers through his hair. "Listen to me," she murmured, her voice a soothing balm to his chaos. "There's no one else in my heart. There never has been. There never will be." She cupped his face, guiding his panicked gaze back to hers. "It was always you. From the beginning. It is you now. And it will always be you."
Theo collapsed.
Right there, on the floor, in dramatic, bone-melting relief. "Oh, thank Merlin," he groaned, wrapping his arms around her waist as if anchoring himself to solid ground. "Luna, my love, my life, my everything—please never, ever do that to me again. My heart is fragile. It can't take this kind of suspense!"
She giggled, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. "You are so dramatic."
"And yet, you still married me," he mumbled into her lap. "Which means you're stuck with me now, you cruel, cruel woman."
"Forever," she agreed, smiling as she stroked his hair. "My very dramatic Sun."
She chuckled, threading her fingers through his hair with slow, soothing strokes. "I didn't mean to scare you," she murmured, the corners of her lips twitching in amusement. "I was just thinking…"
He lifted his head slightly, his brows furrowing in suspicion. "Thinking about what, exactly?" His tone was cautious, as if bracing himself for another unexpected question.
"Ginny," she said softly, her voice carrying a contemplative weight. "Do you think she's truly happy with Blaise?"
He blinked, clearly caught off guard by the sudden change in conversation. "Blaise? Ginny? Why are we suddenly talking about them?" He pushed himself up, rubbing his temples as if trying to recalibrate his thoughts. "I thought we were discussing my catastrophic lack of an ex-girlfriend history, and now we're onto Ginny's love life?"
She shrugged, her gaze distant, as if lost in some invisible thread of thought. "I just wonder sometimes," she admitted. "She's been through so much, and… I don't know. There's a part of me that feels like maybe she still loves Harry."
He let out a short, incredulous laugh, running a hand through his hair. "Luna, love, that's nonsense. If that were true, Blaise would have noticed."
Her head tilted in that curious, thoughtful way of hers. "How would he know?" she countered, her voice quiet but persistent.
He sighed, shifting against the armchair with a weary expression. "I don't know. Intuition, I suppose? Blaise is many things, but he's not oblivious. If Ginny still carried a torch for Potter, he'd sense it." He leaned forward slightly, his eyes locking onto hers. "And trust me, if Blaise suspected even the slightest thing, he wouldn't suffer in silence. He'd either fix it or set the world on fire trying."
She hummed softly, considering his words. "Maybe," she conceded, but there was still that flicker of doubt in her eyes.
That intuition was called a tracker in her bracelet.
Her gaze softened, a knowing smile tugging at her lips as she looked down at him. "You're right," she murmured. "I suppose I'm just overthinking things. The pregnancy has my mind wandering in every direction."
He gazed up at her, his eyes warm with devotion. Without hesitation, he reached up, his palm resting gently against the swell of her belly, feeling the subtle flutter of their child moving beneath his touch. His heart clenched at the quiet miracle of it—of them. "There's nothing to worry about, my love," he whispered, his voice steady, reassuring. "Everyone is where they're meant to be. Blaise and Ginny. Harry and Cho. And most importantly—" he gave her a small, lopsided smile, "—you and me. Together. Always."
She leaned down, brushing a featherlight kiss against his forehead, her breath warm against his skin. "Together, always," she echoed, the certainty in her voice settling something deep inside him.
He let out a long, exaggerated sigh, draping himself dramatically over her lap. "You nearly gave me a heart attack, woman. My poor heart is still recovering."
Her laughter filled the room, light and airy, the kind of sound that could turn even the darkest of days into something golden. "Oh, my love," she teased, running her fingers through his hair. "What would I ever do without your theatrics?"
"Live a dull, uneventful life, obviously," he quipped, flashing her a devilish grin. Before she could react, he rose to his feet and swept her into his arms, ignoring her amused protests. "Now, let's get you to bed, my love. You and our little one need rest, and I need peace of mind after the absolute emotional turmoil you've put me through."
She rolled her eyes fondly but didn't argue, nestling against his chest as he carried her up the stairs. And as he held her close, feeling the warmth of her against him, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, he knew—this, right here, was the only place he would ever need to be.
But who was he kidding? He was just as consumed, just as ensnared in his own obsessive tendencies. Every fleeting glance at her sent a wave of possessive longing coursing through him, a primal need to remind himself that she was his. The gleaming band on her finger was his lifeline, his proof, his claim—yet he found himself checking it constantly, ensuring it hadn't somehow disappeared, as if love could be stolen in the blink of an eye.
Luna was a creature of serenity, a constant in the chaos of his mind. Her days unfolded in gentle patterns—visiting Pansy, Granger, and sometimes Red, laughter threading through the air like a melody only she could weave. She wandered the market, her mere presence brightening even the dimmest corners, drawing eyes that lingered too long for his liking. She always came home. Always. A soft smile on her lips, the same ethereal warmth in her gaze, never giving him a reason to doubt her.
But reason had never been his strongest tether. Fear curled around his ribs, tight and suffocating, whispering insidious thoughts he hated himself for entertaining. He had never suspected her. He had never let his mind wander to the possibility of betrayal. Yet the anxiety lurked beneath his skin like a disease, simmering, festering, waiting. Because the mere thought of losing her—of someone taking what was his—was enough to drive him mad.
~~~~~~
Luna visited Pansy as always, but lately, stepping into Parkinson Manor felt like entering the war room of a particularly unhinged general. Pansy had always been dramatic, but now—now she was a force of pure, unfiltered chaos, her wedding planning consuming not just her own life but the lives of everyone around her.
Before she even reached the door, she could hear Pansy's sharp voice slicing through the air like a well-aimed hex. "I said ivory, not eggshell! Do you think I want to look like I'm walking down the aisle in a dingy bedsheet?"
Luna inhaled deeply, bracing herself, and stepped inside—only to be met with absolute pandemonium. Fabric swatches covered every available surface like an explosion of silk and lace, florists engaged in heated debates over the superior emotional impact of peonies versus roses, and at the heart of it all stood Pansy, clutching a quill like a dueling wand, her entire posture radiating barely contained hysteria.
"Luna! Thank Merlin you're here!" Pansy shrieked, charging toward her like a woman on the verge of collapse. "I am this close to losing my mind with these incompetent imbeciles!"
Luna smiled serenely, unfazed. "Hello, Pansy. You look... busy."
"Busy? Busy?! Luna, I am on the precipice of disaster!" With a dramatic sigh, Pansy flung herself onto a chaise lounge, one hand draped across her forehead like a tragic heroine in the final act of a play.
Luna stepped carefully through the battlefield of ribbons and pearls, her voice as soothing as ever. "I'm sure it will be perfect, Pansy. You always manage to make things come together."
"Oh, you sweet, delusional thing," Pansy groaned, sitting up with a wild look in her eyes. "I'm marrying Neville Longbottom. I can't just have 'perfect,' I need flawless. Do you think anyone will take me seriously as Lady Parkinson-Longbottom if there is so much as a wrinkle in the tablecloths?"
Luna blinked. "I don't think anyone notices tablecloths that much, Pansy."
Pansy recoiled as if Luna had personally cursed her wedding gown. "Luna!" she gasped, clutching at her chest in horror. "The tablecloths are the foundation of the entire reception aesthetic! They set the tone for everything! Everything!"
Luna nodded sagely, having long since learned that the best way to navigate Pansy's dramatics was simply to agree. "Of course. The tablecloths are vital."
"Exactly!" Pansy leapt to her feet, pacing furiously. "And don't even get me started on the flowers. The florist arrived this morning with the wrong shade of roses. I specifically requested blush pink, and she brought coral. Coral, Luna. Can you imagine?!"
Luna tilted her head, trying to picture the difference. "They both sound lovely."
"Lovely?" Pansy's eyes widened, aghast. "Lovely is for mediocre garden parties. This is a wedding! My wedding! I need flowers that make people weep with their beauty. I need perfection!" She clutched a fabric swatch to her chest like a lifeline, her expression one of utter despair.
Luna simply patted her arm. "I'm sure you'll make it perfect, Pansy. One way or another."
Pansy spun around, her eyes narrowing. "Luna Lovegood, don't you dare bring logic into this. This is not the time for one of your 'everything will be fine' speeches. Nothing is fine. My hairdresser just canceled on me. My hairdresser, Luna! The one person I trust to make me look like the goddess I am on my wedding day!"
"I'm sure we can find someone else," Luna said soothingly.
"Someone else? Someone else? Do you think I can just waltz into Diagon Alley and pluck a world-class stylist off the street? No, Luna. No, this is a disaster of epic proportions!" Pansy collapsed onto the chaise again, her arms flung wide in despair.
She took a seat next to her, resting a hand on Pansy's arm. "I'm sure it feels overwhelming now, but it's going to be a beautiful day. You and Neville love each other, and that's all that matters in the end."
Pansy sat up, eyes wide with disbelief. "You think love is going to save me from a wardrobe malfunction or the wrong floral arrangements? No, Luna. Details save weddings. The devil is in the details, and right now, I'm surrounded by incompetence!"
Just as Pansy was about to launch into another tirade, one of her assistants rushed into the room, holding up two identical-looking shades of ribbon. "Miss Parkinson! We need your approval! Is it 'champagne' or 'ivory' for the chair sashes?"
Pansy stared at the ribbons as though her entire future depended on them. "Champagne. Obviously. Do you think I want to look like I'm throwing a party in a cheap hotel ballroom?"
The assistant scurried away, and Pansy turned back to Luna with a sigh. "I don't know how I'm going to survive this, Luna. Between the caterers, the florists, the music—don't even get me started on the music—it's enough to drive a sane woman mad."
Luna smiled softly. "You're doing great, Pansy. And when it's all said and done, you'll be married to Neville, and that's what really matters."
Pansy's expression softened, just for a moment, before the tension returned. "Yes, yes, I know, but still—everything has to be perfect. I can't have people thinking I've gone soft. The Parkinson name is on the line!"
She patted her arm. "I have no doubt it will be the most stunning wedding anyone's ever seen."
Pansy grinned, her usual self-confidence momentarily restored. "You're right. It will be. Because I won't let anything less than perfection happen. Not on my watch."
As Pansy whipped back into her tirade, barking out commands to the army of wedding planners surrounding her, Luna stood quietly by the window, watching with an amused yet affectionate smile. She had known Pansy long enough to see through the tempest of complaints and perfectionism. Beneath it all, Pansy was simply a woman who wanted her wedding day to be flawless—not because of the linens or flowers, but because she truly, deeply loved Neville. She admired that about her friend, even if it meant enduring the whirlwind of chaos that followed her wherever she went.
A stack of guest lists and seating charts in hand, Pansy paced across the grand room, her voice sharp and piercing. "No, no, no! I said peonies for the centerpieces, not lilies! Are you trying to sabotage me?!"
She quietly cleared her throat, standing by a chaise that was piled with fabric swatches, lace samples, and velvet cushions that had somehow become part of Pansy's aesthetic vision. Pansy, oblivious to Luna's presence, was far too consumed by her world of meticulously organized chaos. The poor wedding planners looked as if they were about to melt into puddles of stress.
"Pansy?" she called softly, her voice a calm oasis amidst the storm. "Pansy, I brought you something."
"Unless you brought the right tablecloths or a miracle, Luna, I don't want it. I don't have time for anything right now." Pansy didn't even look up as she spoke, her fingers frantically flipping through invitation designs, muttering about font choices and gold foiling. "Can't you see that I'm extremely busy?"
She crossed the room and, with her signature quiet confidence, slipped herself into Pansy's line of sight. "I really think you'll want this."
"Luna, whatever it is, just... put it somewhere. I'm trying to save my wedding from a complete disaster. Do you know how many people are expecting this day to be perfect?" Pansy groaned, running a hand through her perfectly styled hair, which was now teetering on the edge of disarray from her constant fidgeting.
She, unfazed, tilted her head and smiled serenely. "It's weed, Pansy. The good kind. You know, the one you like."
For the first time in what seemed like hours, Pansy's frenzied movements halted. Her eyes, which had been filled with a manic intensity, widened as they locked onto Luna. "Why didn't you start with that?!"
In an instant, Pansy's voice dropped an octave from screeching wedding commander to something far more pleasant. She practically sprinted to Luna, her eyes gleaming with the desperation of someone who had been teetering on the edge for far too long. "Oh, Luna, my darling, why didn't you lead with that? You're a saint, a gift from the heavens above. Give it to me!"
She chuckled and pulled a small, beautifully wrapped tin from her oversized handbag. "I thought you could use something to calm you down. You've been at this for days, Pansy."
"Days? Try weeks, Luna! WEEKS! Do you have any idea what it's like coordinating all of this? I thought planning a wedding would be a delightful little affair—some flowers, some cake, a dress, and boom, happily ever after. But no. It's war. An unrelenting, soul-sucking war. These wedding planners? They're foot soldiers. The florists are traitors. And don't even get me started on the caterers."
Luna raised her eyebrows as Pansy quickly grabbed the tin from her, inspecting it with the kind of care she had reserved previously only for her floral arrangements. "You've always been dramatic," she said, settling herself onto the chair and leaning back, her airy smile never fading. "But even this is a bit much for you, Pansy."
"Of course it's a bit much, Luna! I'm planning the most important wedding of the century." Pansy threw herself onto the chaise beside Luna, opening the tin with a flourish as though it were a priceless artifact. She paused for a moment, inhaling deeply, before exhaling with a look of pure bliss. "Oh, yes. This is exactly what I need. How do you always know?"
She leaned in with a knowing smile. "Because I know you. And I know that beneath all the theatrics, you're just nervous."
"Nervous?!" Pansy scoffed, though it was less convincing now, her bravado slightly softened by the scent of the herbs. "I'm not nervous, Luna. I'm prepared. I'm ready for this."
"I didn't say you weren't ready," she replied, her voice soft and measured. "But I know you, Pansy. You always want everything to be perfect, and when it's something this important, you get... well, a little over the top."
Pansy sighed, taking a moment to relax into the chaise as the tension in her shoulders began to melt away. "I don't mean to be like this. It's just... everyone expects so much from me, you know? The pureblood elite, the whole society—they're all watching, waiting for me to slip up. If I don't have the perfect wedding, they'll never let me hear the end of it."
She rested a gentle hand on Pansy's arm. "But you don't need their approval. Neville loves you, Pansy. He doesn't care about tablecloths or peonies or whether you have champagne or ivory ribbons. He just wants to marry you."
For a moment, Pansy was quiet, the weight of her words settling in. She fiddled with the tin in her hands, her usual dramatic flair tempered by the honest truth in her voice. "I know," she whispered, almost reluctantly. "But it's hard, you know? Everyone expects me to be this... perfect version of myself, and I've spent my whole life trying to live up to that."
She nodded. "But you don't have to be perfect. You just have to be you. That's all that matters."
Pansy sighed again, this time less dramatic and more genuine. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm just... making this harder than it needs to be."
"You are," she replied, smiling. "But that's okay. That's why I brought this." She gestured to the tin. "To help you relax a little. Take a step back. Breathe."
Pansy looked at her, her expression softening into something that almost resembled gratitude. "I don't deserve you."
"No," she said, her smile widening, "but you've got me anyway."
Pansy finally let out a small laugh, the first real laugh she had heard from her in weeks. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"Of course," she said, her eyes twinkling. "Now, how about we light this up and forget about tablecloths for a little while?"
Pansy grinned, all traces of her earlier frenzy gone. "Let's. To hell with the tablecloths."
And so, for the first time in weeks, Pansy set aside her wedding plans, her worries, and her never-ending pursuit of perfection. With hrr by her side and the world's chaos momentarily forgotten, she allowed herself to simply be.