SUN & MOON - Luna & Theo (HP)

TW: Detailed discription of a skull surgery.

Theo's desperation had consumed him entirely. For a week, he tried everything—calling her, sending letters, even showing up at the cottage unannounced, only to be met with cold silence. His heart was unraveling more with each passing day, and he could hardly breathe knowing she was out there, somewhere, without him.

He pleaded with her. Begged, really. Each message was filled with the same words: Please come home, I can't do this without you. I need you.

But nothing worked. She remained distant, unyielding. Every rejection felt like a knife twisting deeper in his chest, and yet, he kept trying. He was relentless, not because he was stubborn, but because he truly loved her—more than he could ever put into words. His heart ached with every reminder of her absence. The house felt hollow, like it had lost its soul when she walked out. He couldn't sleep, couldn't think, couldn't function without her presence to anchor him.

He wasn't sure what more he could do, or say, to make her believe that she was his entire world. But he kept trying, kept begging.

"Luna, please," he whispered into the darkness one night, his voice hoarse from the weight of his emotions. "I love you… with everything I have. Please come back to me."

But all he heard in return was silence. And it was that silence, the crushing emptiness that came from knowing the one person he couldn't live without was slipping further away, that terrified him the most.

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

She appeared one morning, standing in the doorway like a ghost from his dreams. Theo froze for a moment, disbelief washing over him before his body moved on instinct. Without thinking, he bolted towards her, his heart racing as though it might burst.

"Luna," he choked, his voice already trembling. He reached out, his hands desperate to hold onto her, to keep her from slipping away again. "Please, my love," his words were frantic, pouring out with the raw intensity of someone on the brink of losing everything. "I'm begging you—please stay. Don't go. I can't—"

His voice cracked, the depth of his fear and love laid bare in that moment. Tears shimmered in his eyes as he stood before her, pleading not just for forgiveness, but for another chance. He looked as if the very act of her turning away would shatter him completely.

He dropped to his knees, his hands trembling as he reached out, grasping for the hem of her robes like a drowning man clinging to the last piece of driftwood. His voice cracked with desperation.

"Luna, I am nothing without you!" His voice trembled, raw with emotion. "You are the air I breathe, the light that guides me through the darkest parts of my life. I don't care about anything else—money, power, nothing. It's all meaningless without you, my love. Please, please don't leave me. I will die without you. I will never forgive myself if I lose you."

Tears welled in his eyes, spilling over as he clutched her hands, pressing them to his chest. His heart was racing, his pulse frantic beneath her fingers. "I'll change. I'll give up everything. I'll leave this life behind—just say you'll stay. Just give me another chance, my love. You and Lysander are all I need. I've never loved anyone the way I love you. Never."

He looked up at her, his expression so full of raw devotion it was almost painful to witness. His breath came in sharp, ragged gasps. "Please, Luna. Without you, I'm nothing."

She stood still, staring down at him with a calmness that seemed to defy the intensity of his words. She sighed softly, her gaze steady, and after a moment of silence, she simply nodded.

"Okay," she said, her voice quiet and detached, as if the world had stopped spinning for a brief moment.

He blinked in disbelief, his frantic heart slowing as he processed her response. He searched her eyes for something, anything—some sign that this was more than just a simple agreement. But all he found was her quiet acceptance, and it was enough to fill the hollow void inside him.

"Okay?" he whispered, almost as if he couldn't believe it.

She nodded again, turning toward the house. "Okay."

Perhaps this was her Stockholm syndrome.

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

He smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "My love, I'm heading to the office. I have a meeting with Draco," he said, his tone calm, but there was a new sincerity in his voice, an honesty he hadn't shown before.

She looked up at him, her smile genuine and warm. "Okay, my sun," she replied, the nickname slipping from her lips like a small, private comfort. It felt different now, lighter, as if the weight of unspoken truths had finally lifted. At least he was being honest. That was a start.

His hand lingered on her cheek for a moment longer. "What's the plan for today?" he asked, his voice filled with affection.

"We're staying inside and playing with the elves," she said with a playful lilt in her voice. Her eyes sparkled, and for the first time in a while, there was peace in her demeanor.

"That sounds like fun," he chuckled, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "I'll call you when I'm finished, okay?"

She nodded, watching him with quiet contentment as he prepared to leave.

The day was a peaceful reprieve, filled with laughter and lighthearted moments that seemed to mend the cracks in she heart, if only for a while. She and Lysander spent the morning playing silly games with the elves. Kreely, the eldest elf, had an endless supply of odd and amusing games from his days serving in ancient wizarding families, some of which even made Lysander giggle uncontrollably. The living room became a chaotic blend of toys, magic, and infectious laughter.

At one point, Kreely conjured an enchanted bubble-blowing wand, filling the room with iridescent spheres that floated in every direction. Lysander chased after them, his little hands reaching and popping them with bursts of giggles. Even Luna found herself caught up in the simple joy of the moment, twirling amidst the bubbles, the world outside their cottage feeling like a distant memory.

But the highlight of the day came when the majestic Fawkes, appeared in the backyard. His shimmering feathers gleamed in the sunlight as he landed gracefully in the garden.

His eyes widened with excitement. "Fawkeyy!" he squealed, rushing toward the window.

"Yes, love," she smiled, leading him outside. "Shall we give him a ride?"

He clapped his hands in delight. Fawkes bowed low, his keen amber eyes watching Luna with the familiarity of a trusted friend. She helped him onto the Hippogriff's back, settling him in before climbing up herself.

They soared through the sky, the wind rushing past them as Lysander's laughter echoed in Luna's ears. From above, the world looked so small, and for that moment, all her worries seemed insignificant. As they glided over the treetops, she felt a deep sense of peace wash over her—a reminder of simpler times, when the weight of their reality didn't press so heavily on her shoulders.

After their adventure in the sky, the warmth of home beckoned them. As soon as they stepped inside, the coziness of the cottage seemed to wrap around them like a soft embrace. The exhilaration of the day had left them both delightfully exhausted, and Luna could see the sleepiness in Lysander's eyes as he yawned, rubbing at them with his tiny fists.

Without saying a word, she scooped him up and carried him to their shared bedroom, his little head resting against her shoulder. She gently laid him down on the bed, his curls spilling across the pillow as he immediately curled up, hugging his stuffed Thestral close.

Luna, equally drained but content, climbed in beside him. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of leaves outside and the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. With a tired smile, she pulled the blankets over them both, the weight of the day's play and joy tugging at her eyelids.

It wasn't long before sleep overtook them, a peaceful nap enveloping mother and son in the kind of deep, restful slumber that only comes after a day filled with love and laughter. For that little while, the world was perfectly still, and all their worries faded into the background.

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

Her heart pounded as his voice erupted from the fireplace, raw with panic. His hands trembled, and she could hear the urgency in his words.

"Luna!" he shouted, his voice cracking with desperation. "Get the safehouse ready, now! Please, my Moon—I love you endlessly."

Despite the chaos that seemed to swirl around Theo, her voice came through the flames steady and calm. "I'm on it, my Sun. The safehouse will be prepared. I love you beyond measure."

Yes, definitely Stockholm syndrome.

The connection flickered and went dark. She wasted no time. Her heart pounded as she moved with determined urgency, her mind racing through the checklist of essentials needed for the safehouse. She swiftly gathered their most crucial supplies: extra potions, medical kits, protective charms, and important documents. Her hands worked methodically, packing bags with precision as she ran through a mental inventory of what they might need in a crisis.

Her emotions were a storm of worry and resolve, but she kept her focus sharp. The safehouse had to be secure, ready for any scenario Theo might face. She activated protective wards around the house, her wand tracing complex patterns in the air. She double-checked the enchantments, ensuring that every door and window was fortified.

With every item she packed and every spell she cast, her thoughts were on Theo. She imagined the tension and danger he might be facing, and the image fueled her drive. The urgency of the situation left no room for hesitation. She had always been able to handle emergencies with a cool head, but tonight's intensity was unlike any she had faced before.

She quickly set up a safe room within the house, reinforcing it with additional protective spells and ensuring it was stocked with food, water, and medical supplies. She reviewed her list again, her hands steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Everything had to be perfect; Theo and their family's safety depended on it.

As she worked, she whispered reassurances to herself, grounding her amidst the chaos. Each task completed brought a small measure of comfort, knowing she was preparing a haven for Theo. She knew that in moments of crisis, remaining calm was not just a necessity but a lifeline, and she clung to that certainty as she made the final touches.

As she prepared the safehouse, every detail mattered—ensuring that supplies were stocked, security charms were active, and the space was ready for whatever he might bring with him. The weight of their shared love and the urgency of the situation drove her forward, her thoughts solely on the safety of the family she cherished.

And then it happened. The sudden burst of air shattered the calm of the emergency room as two figures materialized with a jarring crack. Hermione was cradled in Draco's arms, her face smeared with blood and her body limp.

Her heart skipped a beat as she saw them. "What happened?!" she cried out, her voice cracking with fear.

Draco, his face pale and strained, laid Hermione gently on the surgical table. "Luna, listen to me. Her skull is shattered. You need to save her. Please, you have to!"

Her gaze was fixed on Hermione's broken form. Her hands moved with practiced urgency as she vanished her clothes and began levitating Hermione onto the surgery table. The gravity of the situation pressed down on her like a heavy weight, but she forced herself to focus.

"Draco, get out!" Luna ordered, her voice stern and resolute. "You can't be here. You're too close, and I need to concentrate."

Draco's face twisted in desperation. "Luna, please, I need her—"

"Now, Draco!" Luna's command was sharp, leaving no room for argument. Her heart ached for the anguish in his eyes, but she knew she had to act swiftly.

As Draco reluctantly stepped back, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, her focus intensified. She worked quickly, her hands a blur as she cast spells and administered potions with precision. Every second felt like an eternity as she fought against the crushing weight of time and the severity of Hermione's injuries.

Draco's voice echoed through the sterile room, a haunting plea. "Luna, please save her. Please, just save her. Oh Merlin, please…"

Her concentration wavered for a split second, her heart breaking at the raw desperation in Draco's voice. But she pushed through the pain, driven by the urgent need to save Hermione's life. The room was a whirlwind of frantic motion and haunting silence, punctuated only by the occasional spell or the whispered reassurances Luna gave herself as she worked.

Every action she took was a step toward preserving a fragile thread of hope amidst the chaos. As she worked tirelessly, her mind was consumed with the sole thought of pulling Hermione back from the brink, knowing that every second counted in this desperate fight for life.

The emergency room had transformed into a high-stakes operating theater, its sterile, clinical atmosphere a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil that gripped Luna. The lights above the surgical table cast a harsh, unforgiving glare on Hermione's pale, unconscious form, her skull fractured and battered from a brutal attack.

Her hands were steady but her heart raced with an intensity that matched the severity of the situation. The room was filled with a tense silence, punctuated only by the hum of medical equipment and the quiet, desperate pleas of Draco, who hovered just outside the door, unable to bear the sight of Hermione's condition.

Luna donned her surgical gloves and adjusted her mask, taking a deep, steadying breath. "Alright, let's get started," she said, her voice calm and authoritative.

She levitated Hermione's head into the correct position, ensuring that the damage to her skull was fully visible and accessible. With a wave of her wand, Luna began the intricate process of casting a diagnostic charm, her eyes scanning the readings that appeared in the air. The results were grim: extensive fractures, severe internal bleeding, and significant pressure on the brain.

"Prepare for the incision," Luna instructed, her voice steady despite the gravity of the situation. Her eyes were locked onto Hermione's injured head, the severity of the damage evident and overwhelming.

With a deep breath, Luna Lovegood conjured a shimmering protective barrier around Hermione's head, forming a sterile, glowing field that glistened under the soft light of the enchanted room. It was a safeguard, ensuring that no contaminants would compromise the delicate and dangerous procedure she was about to undertake. The sterile field expanded in a soft hum, creating a bubble of safety around Hermione's head as she lay motionless on the table. Her chest rose and fell steadily, but her once sharp eyes were closed, her body dependent on Luna's magic for survival. Luna swallowed hard, pushing down the anxiety that gnawed at her insides.

Luna's hands hovered above Hermione's head, trembling ever so slightly. This was no ordinary task—this was skull surgery, the kind of procedure that required the precision of a healer and the mastery of an artist. She wasn't a surgeon by profession, but years of studying advanced healing spells and techniques with her unique flair for magical intuition had prepared her for this moment.

"Focus," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the steady hum of the magic. The weight of responsibility pressed down like a physical force, but she steeled herself, knowing that Hermione's life depended on her. She had to succeed.

Luna glanced over to the array of tools on the tray beside her—both magical and mundane. Silver surgical instruments gleamed beside enchanted crystals, potion vials, and her wand. She would need all of them to mend the damage beneath the surface. Her mind flashed through the steps, reviewing every detail of what needed to be done.

First, the incision. Luna took another steadying breath, her grip tightening on her wand as she focused. With a gentle flick, she cast the initial spell, making a precise cut along Hermione's scalp. The skin parted cleanly, revealing the layers beneath. Luna moved slowly, carefully peeling back the scalp, exposing the cracked and damaged bone. The sight of the fractured skull sent a fresh wave of determination through her. She could do this. She had to.

Hermione had suffered a brutal attack, leaving her skull shattered in places. While the damage had been contained with temporary spells by the healers at St. Mungo's, it was up to Luna now to perform the more permanent repairs. Any misstep could cause irreparable damage, potentially affecting Hermione's brain.

With the scalp pulled back, her next task was to stabilize the bone. Her hand reached for a small potion vial—a powerful concoction designed to temporarily harden and reinforce the bone structure while she worked. Gently, she poured a few drops onto the damaged skull, watching as the liquid absorbed into the bone, creating a temporary support. The shimmering layer hardened, making the cracks less pronounced but still visible.

"Fractura Reparo," she murmured, carefully directing her wand along the length of the fractures. The spell was meant to begin the magical mending process, fusing the bone fragments together. Delicate golden threads of light appeared, slowly knitting the skull back into one solid piece. The task required extreme focus—too much energy, and she could cause the bones to fuse unevenly; too little, and the repairs wouldn't hold.

The light threads began to merge the jagged edges of Hermione's skull, but it wasn't enough. There were deeper fractures that needed attention, and she knew she would need to employ both magic and mundane techniques to address them. She picked up a small, enchanted surgical drill, designed to create tiny, precise holes at the edges of the fractures. This would allow her to insert pins—magical constructs—that would provide further stability.

The drill hummed softly as she worked, her hands steady despite the pressure. She carefully drilled at each fracture point, ensuring the holes were perfectly aligned. The task was painstaking, each movement deliberate. Sweat beaded on her forehead, but she didn't dare pause.

Once the holes were in place, she reached for the next tool—long, thin rods infused with healing magic. These rods would act as stabilizers, anchoring the bone while the deeper magic worked to fuse the fractures. With delicate hands, she inserted each rod into the drilled holes, adjusting their position with precision. They glowed faintly as they settled into place, their magical properties beginning to strengthen the bones around them.

"Perfect," she whispered, though there was still much to be done.

Next came the most critical part of the procedure: addressing the internal damage. Beneath the fractures, Hermione's brain had suffered trauma, and Luna needed to heal the injured tissue without causing further harm. She drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment, centering herself. Her wand hovered above Hermione's head as she whispered a series of complex healing incantations, her voice soft but commanding.

"Tessera Corpus," she intoned, weaving a spell designed to gently stimulate the brain's natural healing processes. As the spell took hold, a soft, soothing light spread from her wand, sinking into Hermione's skull and bathing her brain in healing magic. She could feel the energy coursing through her, guiding the delicate reconstruction of the damaged tissues. This was the trickiest part—too much force, and she could overwhelm the brain; too little, and the healing would be incomplete.

She worked slowly, meticulously, her wand tracing intricate patterns in the air as she directed the spell. The healing light pulsed rhythmically, syncing with the steady beat of Hermione's heart. Minutes passed, though to Luna, it felt like hours. The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with magic and purpose.

Finally, the deep repairs were complete. The internal trauma had been addressed, and the skull fractures were mending, held in place by the magical rods. Luna exhaled slowly, a wave of relief washing over her, but she knew the procedure wasn't over yet.

The final step was closing the scalp. Luna carefully folded the skin back over the repaired bone, smoothing it into place. With another flick of her wand, she cast a spell to seal the incision, leaving no trace of the cut behind. The skin fused seamlessly, as though it had never been touched.

She stepped back, her eyes scanning Hermione's face for any signs of discomfort or distress. There were none—Hermione lay still, her breathing steady, her body relaxed. The surgery had been a success.

Luna wiped the sweat from her brow, her hands trembling now that the procedure was over. She sank into a chair, her legs weak from the tension. It was done. Hermione was safe.

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

The door creaked open, and her heart skipped a beat. "Draco, get out!" she shouted, her voice a mixture of urgency and frustration.

But Theo's voice came softly from behind her, "It's just me, my love."

Luna turned, her eyes widening as she saw Theo standing there, his clothes stained with blood. "You're not sterile!" she snapped, her voice tinged with desperation. "Please, get out."

Theo's gaze was filled with concern and tenderness. "I love you, my moon," he said quietly, stepping closer despite her objections.

Luna's heart ached at his words. "And I love you too," she replied softly, her voice breaking slightly as she turned back to her work, the weight of their shared pain hanging heavily in the air.

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

After six grueling hours, Luna finally emerged from the surgery room, her scrubs stained and her face drawn with exhaustion. The living room was filled with tense silence, broken only by the shuffling of feet as those who had been anxiously waiting for news turned toward her.

"She's alive," she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. Her words were met with a collective sigh of relief.

Draco, who had been pacing, immediately rushed toward her. His face was etched with both hope and anxiety. He lifted Luna into his arms, holding her tightly as tears of gratitude spilled down his cheeks. "Thank you for saving my wife," Draco said, his voice choked with emotion. "Luna, I can never, ever thank you enough."

Blaise and Ginny, standing nearby, embraced each other tightly, their relief palpable as they shared a silent moment of gratitude.

Theo, who had been standing at a distance, stepped forward. His eyes were filled with a mixture of concern and love. He gently kissed Luna, his touch tender and full of affection. "Come, my love," he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of both relief and exhaustion. "Let's get you cleaned up."

As he guided her toward their bedroom Luna felt the gravity of the night's events pressing down on her. Despite the victory of saving Hermione, she knew the road to recovery would be long and fraught with challenges. Yet, in the warmth of her loved ones' support, she found a flicker of hope amidst the fatigue.

He helped her out of her surgery clothes with gentle hands, his concern evident in every movement. He led her to a warm bath he had drawn, the steam curling around them as the soothing water promised a moment of peace.

"My moon," Theo said softly, his voice filled with awe and tenderness, "what you did today was… I can't even find the words. You're a superhuman. Your magical abilities are beyond anything I've ever seen."

Luna, her exhaustion finally catching up with her, whispered faintly, "I'm going to pass out."

As she sank into the water, the combination of warmth and fatigue was too much. Within moments, she fell asleep, her head resting gently against the edge of the tub. Theo watched her with a mixture of admiration and worry, knowing that her strength and sacrifice had saved lives, but also realizing how deeply it had taken a toll on her.

Theo carefully cleaned her, his movements tender as he ensured she was comfortable. Once finished, he gently levitated her to their bed, making sure she rested peacefully. As he tucked the blanket around her, he pressed a soft kiss to her hands, the same hands that had saved Hermione's life just hours before.

Then, with a mix of awe and reverence, he kissed her forehead, wishing he could somehow kiss her brilliant mind—the mind that had not only mastered healing magic but had also held their world together.

"I love you, my moon," he whispered, his voice filled with quiet devotion, as he watched her sleep.

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

He placed a steady hand on Draco's shoulder, his voice low and calm. "Mate, she's alive. Everything will be fine. You did what you had to. Right now, focus on her."

Draco's face was buried in his hands, tears slipping through his fingers. "Theo, it's all my fault. I should never have brought her to that meeting with Karkaroff. I knew—I knew it was a setup when he and his whore of a wife accused us. Us, Theo. You and me, for selling shit drugs!"

Theo knelt beside him, his voice taking on a steely edge. "The bitch is dead, Draco. And we will find Karkaroff. He's not going to escape this. But right now, the most important thing is Hermione. She's alive, and that's what matters."

Draco wiped his eyes and nodded shakily. "Ginny's already set up our bedroom for her. She's been so strong through all of this."

Theo stood, helping Draco to his feet. "Come on then. Let's get her clean and comfortable. She needs you now more than ever."

Together, they moved with quiet determination, their focus now entirely on Hermione, the storm of guilt and vengeance temporarily set aside for love.

Hermione lay in the bed, her face calm and peaceful, as if she were merely asleep. Ginny sat beside her, gently stroking her hand, whispering soft words of comfort.

"Ferret, what have you done?" Ginny's voice was barely more than a murmur, but the weight of her words hung in the air.

Draco, standing at the foot of the bed, ran a hand through his hair, his eyes dark with guilt. "Ginerva, not now," he replied, his voice tired and heavy. "Go to sleep."

She stood up slowly, her gaze never leaving him. "You know this conversation isn't over," she said softly but firmly. She leaned down, kissing Hermione's hand gently before walking out of the room, her presence leaving a sense of finality in the air.

Draco exhaled sharply, his eyes returning to Hermione, silently pleading for her to wake up, to tell him everything would be alright.