SUN & MOON - Luna & Theo (HP)

Remembrance. Luna loathed them with a passion that grew more intense with each passing year. Each funeral seemed to unearth old wounds, dredging up memories of her mother's funeral, a day etched deeply into her soul.

On that day, everything inside Luna had died. It wasn't just her mother who had been laid to rest; a part of Luna herself had been buried alongside her. The world had felt colder, darker, and infinitely more empty. She had stood there, a young woman lost in the sea of mourners, clutching her grief as if it were a tangible thing. Her heart had shattered into a thousand pieces, and the fragments had never quite fit back together.

Now, as she faced another funeral, the familiar ache returned with a vengeance. Each solemn face, every whispered condolence, and the muted, respectful sorrow were like sharp reminders of her own past. The room was filled with a heavy silence, broken only by the occasional murmur of grief. Yet, it was the silence that was the loudest, echoing in her mind like the hollowed-out emptiness she felt inside.

She felt as if she were walking through a fog, each step weighed down by a profound sense of loss that seemed to seep into every corner of her being. The cold, impersonal atmosphere of the funeral parlor, with its meticulously arranged flowers and somber music, only served to deepen her sense of isolation.

She could see the echoes of her mother's funeral in every detail: the polished wood of the casket, the muted colors of the mourners' attire, and the gentle but unyielding presence of grief. It was as though time had folded in on itself, bringing her back to that heart-wrenching day when she was forced to say goodbye.

In the midst of the ceremony, she found herself detached from the world around her, her emotions wrapped in a cocoon of sorrow. The faces around her blurred into a sea of muted colors and whispered condolences, and she felt as if she were floating above it all, disconnected from the reality of the moment. The sorrow that enveloped her was a familiar, unwelcome friend, reminding her that some wounds never truly heal.

As the service continued, her mind drifted back to her mother, to the warmth of her embrace and the sound of her laughter—a stark contrast to the coldness she felt now. The pain was as fresh as it had been on that dreadful day, a raw, aching void that seemed to consume her whole.

The reality of her mother's absence was as stark now as it had been then, a constant, heavy presence in her life that no amount of time could ever fully erase. Each funeral she attended felt like a cruel reminder of that emptiness, a stark contrast to the vibrant life that had once been so full and complete.

Her eyes, though filled with tears, remained distant and unfocused. The world around her was a blur of mourners and rituals, but inside, she was far removed from the world. The heaviness in her chest was unbearable, each breath a struggle against the tide of grief that threatened to pull her under.

The finality of death seemed all too real, and the echoes of her mother's farewell haunted her with an unyielding persistence. Luna's heart ached with the realization that, despite the passage of time, some sorrows remained as vivid and painful as the day they were first felt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The air at Ron and Lavender's funeral was thick with a suffocating silence, broken only by the occasional sniffle or cough from the mourners. Hermione sat rigidly in a hard wooden chair, her posture straight and unyielding, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on her shoulders. Her eyes, red and swollen from days of grief, were fixed on a point somewhere beyond the modest ceremony—a focal point that seemed to blur with the haze of her own detachment.

She felt oddly removed, as if encased in a thick layer of emotional ice that insulated her from the pain and the somber atmosphere around her. The loss of Ron and Lavender had hit her with a force she wasn't prepared for, but the depth of her sorrow was paradoxically matched by an unsettling numbness. 

The ceremony continued with its solemn rituals, but her mind was elsewhere, lost in a fog of fragmented memories and unspoken words. She could barely process the words of comfort or the shared condolences; her own thoughts felt too heavy, too tangled, to allow for much beyond the automatic nods and polite smiles. As she sat there, she wondered if this numbness was a shield or simply another form of suffering—an emotional defense mechanism that kept her from truly experiencing the full weight of the loss.

Now, a chilling numbness had settled in its place. Amidst the tear-streaked faces and whispered condolences, Hermione felt an overwhelming sense of isolation. She was a lone island in a sea of grief, adrift in a storm of her own making. Each tear that fell around her seemed to accentuate her solitude rather than bridge the gap. The shared sorrow of others felt distant and foreign, as though she were encased in an impenetrable bubble of her own sadness. In that sea of mourning, she drifted alone, battling a storm that no one else could truly see or understand.

The past few days had been a whirlwind of forced composure and relentless busywork. Now, surrounded by a handful of mourners in a setting so quiet it felt almost surreal, the weight of reality finally threatened to crush the dam she'd so desperately tried to hold back. The strain of holding it together gave way as a single tear escaped, tracing a glistening path down her cheek. It was the first in what felt like hours, a fragile release from the suffocating pressure of her emotions. The tear was but a tiny crack in her facade, yet it hinted at the promise of a deeper, more cathartic sob that lay just beneath the surface, waiting to be released in a moment of vulnerability.

Looking around the somber gathering, Hermione felt an overwhelming wave of despair wash over her. The air was thick with grief, and every face in the crowd seemed to reflect the same shell-shocked expression she wore. Harry's green eyes, usually so vibrant and filled with life, were now dull and clouded, burdened by a sorrow that felt almost palpable, binding them all together in their collective heartache. He offered a small, sad smile—a gesture of comfort that was too fragile to bridge the chasm of loss that stretched between them. It was a reminder of their shared history, but it also served as a painful acknowledgment of what they had lost.

Beside him, Ginny clutched his hand tightly, her fingers interlaced with his in a silent pact of support. The fiery spirit that had always defined her was noticeably dimmed, her usual warmth now overshadowed by the weight of their grief. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and though she attempted a watery smile, it fell short of reaching her eyes, which reflected the deep ache in her heart. She squeezed Harry's arm, as if drawing strength from him, but the gesture only highlighted the fragility of their situation. Together, they were a picture of shared sorrow, each seeking solace in the other while struggling to navigate the tumult of emotions surrounding them.

Nearby, Neville stood with his shoulders slightly hunched, his face etched with sorrow that seemed to have aged him beyond his years. The usually steady demeanor he carried like armor was wavering under the strain of the day's events. His brow was furrowed, and he looked lost in thought, as if grappling with memories and feelings he couldn't quite articulate. The weight of the moment pressed heavily upon him, making every breath feel laborious. He was accompanied by Luna, whose ethereal presence typically brought a sense of calm and wonder to the room. Yet now, even she seemed touched by the pervasive sadness that enveloped them.

Luna's large, blue eyes, which often sparkled with a strange and perceptive light, were now clouded with a deep well of empathy, reflecting the pain of loss that they all felt so acutely. She stood close to Neville, her hand resting gently on his arm as if anchoring him in the storm of emotions swirling around them. When her gaze met Hermione's, it was filled with an understanding that was both comforting and heartbreaking. In that moment, Hermione felt as though Luna could see directly into her soul, sharing in the anguish that pressed upon them all. Luna's gaze held a mixture of sorrow and compassion, as if she was bearing the weight of the world's sadness on her delicate shoulders, ready to share the burden with those she loved.

The world around them blurred into a haze of muted colors and indistinct voices as they all stood united in their grief. The air was heavy with whispered condolences and the quiet sobs of those who were struggling to accept the reality of what had happened. Hermione could feel the collective heartbeat of their small group—a rhythm of shared memories and unspoken fears—as they all tried to process the magnitude of their loss. Each heartbeat echoed a promise to remember Ron and Lavender, to honor their lives even as they mourned their untimely deaths. In that moment, they were bound together not just by their past, but by a future that suddenly felt uncertain and fraught with danger.

As the service continued, Hermione found herself searching the faces around her, seeking out the comfort of familiarity amidst the sorrow. She knew they would need to lean on one another in the days to come, to navigate the murky waters of grief together. The shared understanding among them was a silent vow; they would carry each other through the darkness, as they had done so many times before. And even in their pain, there was a flicker of hope—a belief that love, friendship, and resilience would light the way forward.

As the brief ceremony ended, a smattering of condolences were exchanged, hollow words offering little comfort in the face of such a profound loss. One by one, the mourners drifted away, their hushed whispers fading into the rustling leaves of the surrounding trees. Hermione remained rooted to the spot, a statue carved from grief, alone with the ghosts of her memories.

Now, as she stood amongst the gathered mourners, the weight of the present moment pressed heavily upon him. She glanced around at the faces of those who had come to pay their respects to them, their expressions a blend of shock, sadness, and disbelief. The air was thick with unspoken words, a cacophony of emotions that swirled around him like a storm. It was a testament to the fact that life could change in an instant, that happiness could be snatched away without warning, leaving only echoes of laughter and memories in its wake.

As he looked back at the casket before her, he felt a mixture of sorrow and resolve. Their lives had ended far too soon, their potential extinguished in an instant. It was a stark reminder of why he had to fight for those she loved. 

And so, as the service unfolded, she stood tall, his heart a mix of grief and hope. She would not shy away from the pain; he would embrace it, using it as fuel to protect the love he had fought so hard to cultivate. Life would continue, and she would be ready to face whatever came next, determined to honor those lost while cherishing the moments he had left with those still by his side.

Standing next to Neville, she stared at the grave, her expression a mix of sorrow and resignation. The headstone was stark and unadorned, bearing the names that now defined this somber resting place: Ron Weasley and Lavender Brown

Her eyes traced the engraved names, each letter a reminder of lives that had ended far too soon. Despite her own complex feelings about them, she couldn't deny the profound weight of their loss.

"Terrible couple," she murmured softly, her voice tinged with an edge of bitter irony. "Lovely human beings."

Neville, standing close by, offered a silent nod of understanding. He knew well the weight of grief and the challenge of reconciling the love for those who had left an indelible mark on one's life, even if their relationships or actions had been fraught with complications.

Her thoughts drifted back to the past, to the tangled web of relationships and emotions that had defined both of them. She remembered their strengths and flaws, the moments of warmth and conflict. Their lives had been a mosaic of contradictions, and now they were gone, leaving behind only memories and a quiet, unspoken legacy.

As the wind whispered through the trees, she felt the chill of the graveyard seep into her bones. It was as if the very earth beneath her was mourning alongside her, a silent witness to the complex dance of life and death that had played out in their shared history.

In the solitude of the cemetery, she felt a deep, profound sense of finality. Their story had ended, but the impact they had made on those left behind would linger, a bittersweet echo of lives that had once been vibrant and full.

Her gaze shifted to Hermione, who sat detached and forlorn beside the grave. Hermione's posture was slumped, her eyes fixed blankly on the ground, as if she were staring into an abyss from which there was no return. The world around her seemed to blur into insignificance, her grief so profound it had robbed her of any sense of reality.

Harry stood nearby, his face streaked with tears, his shoulders shaking with the weight of his sobs. The entire Weasley clan was gathered, their expressions a mix of anguish and disbelief. Their collective sorrow was palpable, each family member mourning not just Ron and Lavender, but the gaping hole their absence had left in their lives.

The sight was overwhelming. The cries and whispers of grief mingled with the rustling of the trees, creating a symphony of sorrow that echoed through the cemetery. The scene was a tableau of raw, unfiltered human emotion.

Luna felt a pang of sympathy for Hermione, her own heart heavy with shared grief. She saw how the pain of loss could consume a person, how it could render even the strongest among them utterly helpless. Her own tears began to flow as she watched Harry's quiet despair and the Weasley family's collective mourning. It was a stark reminder of the fragility of life and the depth of loss.

The entire gathering was shrouded in a thick veil of mourning. The air was heavy with the collective grief of those left behind, and she felt as if she were enveloped in a somber haze. The tears and sadness of everyone around her seemed to merge into a single, overwhelming wave of sorrow that washed over the cemetery, leaving a profound silence in its wake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He checked on her every hour, his concern evident in his every action. He found her sitting by the window, staring out blankly at the garden.

"Luna, my love," he began softly, his voice tinged with worry. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," she replied, her voice flat and distant.

He shook his head gently. "You're not fine, my love. I can see it. You're not yourself."

Her eyes remained fixed on the outside world. "I'm just devastated," she admitted quietly, her pain evident in her tone.

His heart ached as he approached her. "I want to make you happy. I hate seeing you like this. Please, tell me how I can help."

"Please," she said, her voice breaking, "don't let our baby see me like this. I don't want him to see me so... lost."

He nodded reassuringly. "He's not with us right now. He's with the crazy neighbor lady."

She looked at him, a hint of a smile breaking through her sorrow. "She's not crazy, Theo. She's just really into astrology."

He frowned slightly. "I don't really know what that is, and she's vegan. To me, she seems like a crazy lady. But I trust her. How can I help you?"

Her voice trembled. "I just... I want my mummy. I feel like I need her so much right now."

His eyes softened, and he sat beside her, taking her hand gently. "Oh, darling," he said softly, pulling her close. "I wish I could take away your pain. I'm here for you, always."

She leaned into him, tears streaming down her cheeks. He held her close, trying to offer the comfort and support he knew would never fully erase her grief but hoping it could ease it, if only just a little.

He held her close, his voice soft and gentle. "Tell me something about your mother," he said, trying to bring some comfort through shared memories.

She took a shaky breath, her voice barely above a whisper. "She was... she was kind and so full of life. She had this way of making everyone around her feel special, like they were the most important person in the world."

He gently brushed a tear from Luna's cheek. "Pandora was everything to my father and to me," she continued, her voice breaking slightly. "She had this warmth and a lightness about her that made even the darkest days seem brighter."

He nodded, his gaze softening. "Pandora is such a powerful name," he said, his voice filled with admiration. "It must have been a name that truly reflected who she was."

She nodded, her eyes clouded with the weight of her grief. "She was... she was my guiding star, my anchor. Losing her... it feels like losing a part of myself."

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. "I'm so sorry, Luna. I wish I could do more to ease your pain."

She leaned into him, drawing comfort from his presence. "Just being here helps," she whispered. "Thank you for understanding, for letting me talk about her."

He held her tighter, knowing that while he could not erase her pain, he could at least offer her a small measure of solace.

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. "What about your mother?" she asked softly.

He hesitated, his gaze falling to the floor. "My love… I… I never talked about her with anyone. Not even my father. You were the only woman who touched me with love in her hand," he said, his voice tinged with a mix of sorrow and vulnerability.

Luna reached out, gently cupping his face. "Did she…"

Je swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper. "Multiple times, just like my father."

Her heart ached for him. She could see the weight of unspoken pain in his eyes, a mirror to her own grief. "I'm so sorry, Theo," she said, her voice trembling with empathy.

He nodded, tears brimming in his eyes. "It's a part of my past I've never truly faced until now. But hearing about your mother… it helps me understand more about my own pain."

He took a deep breath, his voice trembling as he continued. "My father killed her, and I was happy. When my father went to Azkaban, I was relieved, for the first time in my life I felt free. I only had my cousin, Titus, and that was enough. But then you came into my life."

He looked at her with a mix of awe and gratitude. "You changed my view of women. You showed me what a woman should be, not just through your words but through your actions. You've given me a new perspective, one I never thought I'd have. You made me see the strength and the beauty that I had missed for so long."

Luna's eyes softened as she listened, her heart aching for him. She gently wiped the tears from his face. "Theo, I'm so sorry for what you've been through."

He nodded, his voice heavy with the weight of his past. "Tessina, that was her name."

Her gaze was tender. "A beautiful name."

His expression darkened. "Not for a beautiful person, that's for sure."

Her voice was gentle, but filled with concern. "Have you grieved for your parents?"

Theo shook his head slowly. "I had no reason to. I only had joy."

Her heart ached for him. She embraced him tightly, offering the only solace she could in that moment. "You deserve to find peace, Theo. And I'm here to help you, every step of the way."

I hope you find some peace of mind in this lifetime. I hope you find paradise.

Luna looked at him with a determined 

expression. "Let's have a funeral for them."

His brows furrowed. "Luna, please, it's silly."

"It is not silly," she countered gently. "You never had the chance to grieve properly. It's important."

He sighed, his resistance fading. "Okay."

She raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "You're saying 'okay' to everything I suggest?"

His eyes softened as he gazed at her. "Always," he replied, his voice filled with warmth and trust.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm, golden hue over the tranquil grounds of the small estate where they had chosen to hold the memorial. The garden, usually vibrant with color, was now adorned with simple, elegant decorations—white lilies and soft, muted tones reflecting the somber occasion.

Luna, having put her heart into every detail, had transformed the space into a serene haven. She had arranged chairs in a semicircle around a modest wooden altar, which was adorned with a few framed photographs of Tessina and Elias Nott. Though not large or extravagant, the setup was heartfelt, reflecting hrr deep understanding of his need for closure.

Theo stood beside the altar, his expression a mixture of apprehension and reluctant acceptance. He wore a dark suit, its formality contrasting with the emotional weight of the day. She stood close by, her presence a steady source of comfort.

She took his hand in hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Are you ready?" she asked softly.

Theo nodded, though his eyes betrayed the turmoil within. "As ready as I'll ever be," he said, his voice steady but tinged with emotion.

The ceremony began with her gentle voice leading the proceedings. "Thank you for coming today," she began, her tone calm yet filled with sincerity. "We are here to remember and honor the lives of Tessina and Elias Nott. Though their lives were marred by their own struggles and imperfections, today we focus on their memories and the impact they had on those who knew them."

He took a deep breath and stepped forward to address the gathering. The imaginary crowd fell silent, all eyes on him as he began to speak. His voice was quiet but firm, each word carefully chosen.

"My parents… they were complex individuals, marked by both their virtues and their flaws. My mother, Tessina, was a woman of deep emotions, whose life was a tapestry of joys and sorrows. She had her own battles and difficulties, struggles that often cast long shadows over her days. Yet, she also possessed a kindness that could light up the darkest corners of a room. She had a way of making people feel seen, valued, and loved, even when she struggled to do the same for herself.

Lies.

"My father, Elias, was a man hardened by his choices, a man whose life was a blend of ambition and darkness. His decisions often led him down paths that caused pain and discord, both for himself and for those around him. He was a man driven by ideals that he believed justified his actions, but those very ideals often blinded him to the suffering he caused. Yet, for all his faults, he was a part of me, and his presence shaped the person I became."

Lies.

"Today, we stand here to acknowledge them not just for who they were to me, but for the lives they led—lives that were not always easy, and certainly not always exemplary. We remember them for their humanity, for the way they navigated their own challenges and choices, and for the impact they had on those who knew them."

"This ceremony is not just about mourning their departure but also about understanding the full spectrum of their lives. They were not perfect, but they were real, and their stories are woven into the fabric of my own. In honoring their memory, we also come to terms with the legacy they left behind, and perhaps find a way to reconcile the past with the present."

Fuck them.

Let us remember Tessina and Elias not only for the pain they may have caused but also for the moments of grace and the times when their humanity shone through. Let us acknowledge their lives with all their complexities and contradictions. And in doing so, may we find a measure of peace and a deeper understanding of the intricate dance between love, loss, and forgiveness."

With that, he stepped back, his eyes glistening as he took his seat beside her. The weight of his words lingered in the air, a solemn reminder of the intricate tapestry of life and the ongoing journey of understanding and acceptance.

Luna moved closer to him, her presence a silent but powerful support. She reached out and touched his arm, a gesture of shared sorrow and strength.

As the sun dipped further, casting long shadows over the garden, the ceremony came to a close. They stood side by side, a quiet sense of peace settling over them. The guests began to leave, their expressions reflecting the solemnity and respect of the occasion.

He turned to her, his eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and relief. "Thank you, my love," he said softly. "For everything."

She smiled, her eyes filled with warmth. "You're welcome. I'm glad we did this."

He took her hand, his grip firm and reassuring. "I feel… lighter. Like I can finally start to let go of some of the weight I've been carrying."

They walked together through the garden, the fading light casting a soft glow over them. For the first time in a long while, he felt a sense of closure, a step toward healing that he had long denied himself.

As they reached the edge of the garden, he paused and looked out over the horizon. "It's strange," he said, his voice thoughtful. "I never thought I'd find peace in something like this. But today, it feels like a beginning."

She leaned into him, her presence a comforting anchor. "It's a new chapter," she said gently. "One where you can honor their memory and move forward."

He nodded, taking a deep breath. "Yes," he agreed. "A new chapter."

As they stood there together, the last rays of sunlight shimmering around them, they felt a renewed sense of hope—a small but significant step toward healing and acceptance.