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Why do people wake up so early? Dennis Creevey would never find the answer because he was too busy rummaging through his water closet in the dark and doing three things at once: brushing his teeth, squinting to check the time on his watch, and undressing himself for a shower.
The sky outside his flat was still the unsure blue of almost-morning. He Accioed his wand and gave a poor aim at his black kettle to start it boiling, another zap at the wireless for his favourite morning programme, he liked listening to before he dipped into cold water.
"Early Rising, Lovely People of Magical Britain! Here we are for our usual Morning News with our host, Lee Jordan and Stephan Festabry..."
The wireless helped him keep track of time; it was easier to tell how long he had by the length of the programme. He was nearly always late (and had almost lost his job twice because of it). He’d always been fond of people’s voices. It was why he lived in the middle of busy London; the quiet had never done him any good. It made his head go to places he didn’t like.
After a quick shower, Lee Jordan was already moving on to the next part of his segment, today’s daily song feature. That meant he had twenty minutes. Dennis stood in the middle of his small kitchen with one sock on, his shirt half-buttoned and toast between his teeth, gathering his supplies on the kitchen table.
His camera bag, the letter missive from his boss about his new project and a stern warning to meet him by 8 sharp, some unopened letters from his dad that he placed in the drawer, quill, parchment, ink... oh, wand.
"Do you have something to say, but no place to say it? Then say it with us! The Wizarding Wireless Network is always accepting new stories. Tell yours. Let your voice be heard."
Click.
Dennis switched off the wireless with a tap of his wand, a little more force than was strictly necessary.
He finished dressing, chewing and swallowing as quickly as he could, downed his (very) hot tea, and grabbed his knapsack. The camera almost fell out, and in a rush, Dennis caught it just in time. It was a big, old-fashioned thing; Dennis had to take off the light bulb because it bothered people; it still bore Colin’s initials in chipped gold paint. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to scrub them off.
He carefully tucked it back in, wiped the lens to make sure there were no scratches, and headed out the door.
Escaping the silence.
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He missed his fourth year due to the war. There were wizards who warned him and Colin to go into hiding. Death Eaters were actively hunting them, ready to extract their wands by force. Dad and Mum were terrified. They sold their house, left everything they knew and owned, just to move the family to Tory Islands, where it was remote and harder for anyone to find them.
That year changed Dennis’s perception of the wizarding world.
He had always wanted to be like his brother, who’d left for Hogwarts two years before him. A wizard in the family, all the stories of magic and adventure felt so grand for the son of a milkman. He remembered the overwhelming relief when his own letter came. Finally, he could follow Colin. Their parents were so proud, two wizards in the family, their little family.
Colin’s pictures were everything to Dennis, and for a long time, he believed magic was the most amazing thing in the world.
But that year taught him the truth: magic didn’t fix things. It was a burden, too.
Colin insisted they continue studying magic even in hiding. He joined a club called Dumbledore's Army and studied a lot under Harry Potter's guidance. When the time for battle came, he left with only a scribbled note saying he had to fight for their right to wield magic.
Colin did what he believed in. He died for it.
And Dennis was the one left behind to pick up the pieces.
His family received clemency and support, and Colin received a third-class Merlin award for his sacrifice. But a loss that big, the loss of a brother, wasn’t something money or kind words could patch over.
After graduating from Hogwarts, Dennis had no idea what he wanted to do. His parents encouraged him to work in the Muggle world, maybe help set up his dad's milk business. But after everything Colin had done, to ensure people like them could remain part of the wizarding world, Dennis felt that leaving it behind would dishonour his brother’s memory.
Trouble was...staying in the world felt like a hardship, too, because even after all these years, Dennis had no idea who he was in this new world. He needed... a sign. Some guidance.
All Dennis had left of Colin was his old camera.
One thing led to another, and Dennis discovered he could pass as an amateur journalist and photographer for The Monthly Tidbits, a small publication with a modest readership that mostly featured slice-of-life stories from the wizarding world.
Was he passionate about it? Did he want this job?
Reasonable questions. But not ones that mattered to him anymore.
His boss hated nearly everything he submitted. He’d been told, more than once, to change careers. But he was twenty-eight, and he needed galleons. To pay rent. To get out of the house. To give to his parents as an apology for being a lousy son.
To stop wallowing.
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He wasn’t late, but his boss still gave him a dressing-down over the lack of content and the poor quality of the pictures from his last assignment.
It was the usual drivel, add more passion, where’s the story? Take pictures that people actually want to see.
Dennis wasn’t a mind reader. What did he know about what people wanted to see in a monthly subscription that usually ended up as scrap in an owl’s cage rather than being read properly anyway?
Still, Dennis swallowed it all and nodded in acceptance.
Today’s assignment: photograph some daft magical beast sanctuary up in the Highlands. Apparently, a new herd of flying sea horses had been sent there, injured during some Muggle sports event after getting tangled in their ships. Magizoologists were calling it a tragic accident. It could have been avoided if there were better communication between Muggle and magical communities.
Better communication. Now that's a thought.
Anyway, the magical sea horses were currently being treated at a sanctuary called Love Haven, run by Luna Lovegood, a renowned Magizoologist known for her recent discoveries of Nargles and the Crumple-Horned Snorkack.
He vaguely remembered her. Luna Lovegood. Blonde. Hogwarts. Ravenclaw, he thought. A friend of Colin's?
He’d have to do an entire piece about her and the flying seahorses to make up for his last blunder.
He sighed and slung the camera bag over his shoulder.
It was just a job anyway.
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He knew he was in the right place because, just past the two large trees criss-crossed with magical wards, stood a hand-painted wooden sign that read Love’s Haven.
The rest of the journey had to be made on foot. Apparition could startle the magical creatures, or so the sign warned, so Dennis took his time, camera out, as he climbed the stony stairs winding along the mountainside. He’d never been to a proper magical sanctuary before. The place was full of stone trails, stables on various levels, and what he presumed were enclosures for magical creatures of all kinds. He snapped as many photos as he could with the click of his camera. It took a good while—he kept getting distracted by the magnificent, magical creatures. Some he’d only ever seen in books, and some he recognised like Crups and Kneazles.
A man in a cotton shirt and blue overalls with dark blond hair was feeding a pair of enormous horses with wings in a stable. He nodded politely at Dennis, who took that as a cue to keep walking.
The path forked. One route led to what looked like a barn with carved runes above the door. The other dipped down to a blue-and-white house wrapped in ivy, beside a large, gleaming lake.
Even from a distance, Luna Lovegood was easy to spot.
She stood ankle-deep in the shallows of the lake, her boots half-submerged, wand tucked behind her ear. Her long blonde hair fell past her ankles and was filled, either by design or happenstance, with flowers and knots of leaves. She wore a pale pink dress under a leather vest, the sun's bright shine made it look like she'd stepped out of some enchanted folk tale.
She was feeding and petting large sea creatures, nearly half her size, with iridescent teal and black scales and wide, dark blue insect-like eyes. They hovered around her with a soft, buzzing hum. Large insect-looking creatures. This had to be the herd of flying sea horses.
Dennis raised his camera.
“No flash, you’ll startle them,” Luna said gently, not turning around.
He dimmed the light and took the shot. At least she knew he was there.
After the click, she turned slowly, like a leaf turning in a breeze.
Dennis had met a fair number of beautiful women in his time (perks of the job, really), but something about this moment was different. The setting. The way she stood, almost floating on the water. Her dress. The hair. That smile. And those shiny blue eyes were all very photogenic. He was struggling between asking for a picture and just drinking in the sight of himself.
“Hello, you must be the journalist? Welcome.”
He had to gather his wits.
“Dennis Creevey. Thank you for having me.” He awkwardly reached out to shake her hand. It was small and damp, her blunt pink fingernails shining against his larger fingers.
She didn’t let go. Instead, she held his hand and trudged out of the water.
“I’m glad people are interested in the flying seahorses. Lovely, aren’t they? Half of them need their wings restored, unfortunately.” She turned back towards the lake, where the creatures neighed and flapped their glistening wings atop the water.
“Err… yeah. Unfortunate."
“There’s a fire in the cottage,” she said brightly still holding his hand as she led the way. “And I’ve got ginger snaps, if you’re not in a rush.”
“Oh, right. I’m supposed to follow you around while you work and, uh, take pictures of you in your element.”
“My home is my element,” she said with a smile. “And I made the ginger snaps.”
“Well…" They are still holding hands for some reason. He kind of feels like he's the lost boy, and Luna's taking him to his mum. "Okay then.” He followed her to the blue house.
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Dennis looked around as inconspicuously as he could.
The walls were painted in soft hues: lilacs, greys, and blues. Sunlight filtered in through open windows draped with sheer enchanted curtains that seemed to dance even when the air was still. Shelves were filled with delicate glass jars, feathers, quills, and trinkets that hummed faintly with residual spells. It was all remarkably homey.
Dennis wasn’t surprised to find various little creatures roaming freely throughout the space. A Niffler was rummaging under the couches, a couple of mooncalves dozed on a colourful rug in the hall, and owls perched on the wooden ceiling beam, hooting at him in greeting.
There was a creak from a corner,
“Whoa—whoa—”
Dennis and Luna entered just in time to see a man nearly topple off a tall ladder, the same man in blue overalls, arms flailing and a long plank of enchanted wood wobbled beside him in mid-air.
“Anthony,” Luna rushed towards him, releasing Dennis' hand, raising her wand, she guiding him down gently. “Did the stabiliser charm malfunction again?”
“I could have sworn I did,” he muttered, glaring at the ladder before flashing her a sheepish smile. “Thanks for the save.”
“The Nargles must have slipped into your mind and made you forget.”
“I keep thinking I’ve cleared the mangy pests.”
“They’re hard to get rid of,” patting his chest with comfortable familiarity.
Anthony spotted Dennis and offered a friendly smile. “Hello. So, you’re the reporter for the flying sea horse piece?”
“Yeah,” Dennis replied, shaking his hand politely. It was clear from the way Anthony looked at Luna fondly, with a hand slipping around her waist, and how Luna leaned into his touch, that they were something close. “Thanks for letting us run the story.”
“We love it when people take the time to learn about these beautiful creatures,” Anthony said warmly. “Oh, and mind the goat, she bites. Poor girl’s missing Aberforth, her owner."
Sure enough, a white goat rested her head on one of the wooden chairs, glaring daggers at Dennis.
“Aberforth? As in the barman?”
“The one and only. He’s off to Spain on some sort of health retreat.”
Huh. Dennis hadn’t known he had a goat.
Anthony raised an eyebrow at her. “You care to greet our guest, Clementine?”
The goat gave a low, mournful baa.
Anthony reached out to scratch behind her ears and promptly drew back when she snapped her teeth.
He chuckled. “See?”
“Love makes us all a bit snappy,” Luna remarked serenely, setting down plates. “That’s why my ginger snaps are perfect for the occasion.”
“She’s roped you in with her food. Once you’ve had a bite, you’ll never leave.”
“Dennis should stay as long as he likes.”
Dennis didn’t know what to say to that, so he simply took the nearest wooden chair, well out of range of the sulking goat, and a ginger snap.
“Dennis Creevey, hmmm... you’re not perhaps Colin’s younger brother?”
“Yeah, I am,” he answered stiffly.
Anthony nodded. “Knew him from the D.A. good chap,” Dennis has heard of the D.A. A secret study group focused on defence that Colin was a part of, they had a coin, and that's how Colin kept updated about what happened that year. "He was very brave."
It's something he's heard a lot. Dennis fidgeted, bouncing his knees under the table. He was grateful when Luna changed the subject.
“Have you been a journalist for long?”
“A couple of years."
"And you cover a lot of magical creatures?"
"Er, the Monthly Tidbit likes to focus on the extraordinary daily lives of normal wixen." He parroted. "We're not exclusively a magical creature print."
What a shame, creatures can be more interesting than people." Luna lamented. "Daddy used to make sure the Quibbler had a Magical Menagrie section."
"That's uh, nice." The last he heard of the Quibbler was that it was last published in the year 2000.
Anthony joined them, his gaze flickering to the camera Dennis still held. “Have you gotten good pictures?"
“A few. I should also interview, Miss, uh,” Dennis faltered. He didn’t know if Luna was married. Shit, he should’ve researched this. “Lovegood, as the owner of this place. I’m hoping to feature her with the uh, creatures.”
“Please, call me Luna,” she said, pouring a cup of piping hot tea. “And you can interview Anthony, too. He built our home and the whole estate.”
“With magic and a few helping hands,” Anthony added modestly.
“And maintained it mainly by himself, a gifted wizard you are.”
“How did you two meet?” Dennis asked, thinking this was an appropriate moment to ask.
“Some friends recommended him,” Luna said, her hand resting on Anthony’s shoulder. “After Daddy passed, I sold the house and bought this land. I’ve always loved magical creatures—and after touring the world with the Scamanders, I finally found my place. Back then, it was just an empty patch of land with a broken-down shack.”
“And she filled that shack with Occamies. Can you believe it?” Anthony shook his head. “She slept in a hammock in the trees while her creatures slept in the ruddy shack.”
“I didn’t have the money to build anything better, and the creatures needed the sanctuary more than I needed a roof. All I had was whatever was left from the Quibbler. Thankfully, Anthony was generous enough to do most of the design work for free.”
“I made the plans and she approved them,” Anthony clarified. “She’s always been the brains of the operation, no matter what she says.”
“Anthony.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a strong woman, my love.”
Luna shrugged, “I’ve always had the best help.”
Dennis averted his gaze as they shared a sweet kiss. He cleared his throat. “So, uh, could both of you share a bit about the place? The history? The types of magical creatures you care for here?”
They chatted for a while. The ginger snaps disappeared in no time. Luna and Anthony were constantly smiling and brushing hands or shoulders. Dennis took a candid shot; he claimed it was for the article, but really, he just wanted to capture the way they looked together.
Luna's expression was very calm and inviting. At her feet, a pair of Puffskeins rolled about, and a black rat nibbled biscuit crumbs from her open palm.
Anthony excused himself to tend to some remaining candle charms in the cottage. Luna kissed him before he left.
“We should check on the other creatures,” she said, brushing crumbs from her lap. “It’s almost their next feeding time. Would it be prudent of me to teach you?”
“Yeah, okay.”
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Dennis followed Luna through the sanctuary, scribbling notes and snapping photographs as she handled various magical creatures.
She scratched the heads of Porlocks, coaxed a thunderbird snoozing atop a makeshift roof, and gathered buckets of fish. Dennis helped with the feeding, scooping ladle after ladle of yellowish mush—brine and crushed crustacean into the lake, where the seahorses gathered with hungry, buzzing anticipation.
“What are your plans for them?” Dennis asked, handing her another scoop.
“I always hope they’ll heal,” she replied, gently tossing the feed into the water as the creatures swarmed around her. “We try to rehabilitate and return them to their natural homes.”
“None stay?”
“Oh, some do,” Luna was tearing down some chunk of meat with her bare hands. “The Haven is always here for those who need it. It was my dream to create a home where people and creatures could find comfort and heal.”
“People?”
Luna glanced at him. “Why else would I stay, if not for my own wellness?”
She had a point there.
The work and meeting the creatures kept him busy, Luna taught him how to approach the Hippogriffs and let him pet the new baby Diricrawls.
He told himself he’d leave once the light dipped behind the pines, but by the time he looked up, the sun had already vanished and stars were scattering over the glen like dust from a wand.
“It’s late. Come and have supper with us.”
Dennis had no excuse to say no and, truthfully, he enjoyed Luna’s company too much to leave. He felt guilty, of course, harbouring these thoughts for a woman clearly spoken for. But Luna was… friendly and seemed not to mind spending half her day with him. It had been a long time since Dennis had a lady friend to fill in the quiet.
Dammit, was he a lonely sod.
She hummed while she walked, spoke softly, and had the kind of presence that made silence feel intentional rather than awkward. It was quieter here than London, and surprisingly, Dennis didn’t dread it. The stillness settled over him like a thick, warm blanket.
Once inside the house, a Puffskein waddled across the rug with purpose, dragging a strip of wool behind it. Somewhere in the background, a guitar strummed. Then, a man in a wheelchair rolled into the room, bald, wearing dark blue glasses and a colourful shirt, his guitar resting lightly in his lap.
“Heath, you’re just in time for dinner!”
She greeted the man with a chaste kiss on the side of his forehead and helped wheel him closer to the table.
“How was the audience today?” she asked, adjusting his chair.
“Splendid as always,” he wheezed, catching sight of Dennis. “What’s this, a new man?”
“My guest,” Luna replied, blushing faintly. “From Monthly Tidbits. A journalist.”
Turning to Dennis, she added, “This is Heathcote Barbary, part of the Love Haven family. He sings to our creatures, and it helps calm them.”
"Barbary, have I heard of you before?"
“Former guitarist for the Weird Sisters,” Heathcote murmured, still sizing Dennis up. "I've had a bit of touch-up," He gestured at his wrinkles.
“A handsome musician,” Luna insisted, setting a bowl in front of him and tucking a napkin under the collar of his shirt. “The mooncalves are your biggest fans.”
“They’ll love any tune, so long as the moon’s shining.” He strummed a light chord. “How’ve you been finding the Haven, boy?”
“It’s beautiful,” Dennis admitted, thanking Luna as she placed a plate of meatloaf in front of him. She served them wine, too.
Heathcote told his story over dinner, he had become a permanent resident after being interviewed by The Quibbler. He’d admitted to missing his music. Luna told Dennis that Heath reminded her of her father, “But with a better singing voice.”
“Oh, she flatters me so,” Heathcote said fondly, running a hand through her hair. Dennis could see the deep lines of age soften across his face. She had that effect, made people feel cared for.
Anthony arrived a little late but took his seat beside Luna, tucking into his dinner with enthusiasm. Once dinner was over, Dennis stood up to help with the dishes.
“Oh, you don’t have to.”
“Please. You’ve been so generous with me all day.”
While Dennis washed and dried at the sink, he glanced over his shoulder.
Luna had settled beside Heathcote, her hand resting lightly on his arm. Anthony, having finished his dinner, took a seat on a low stool and uncorked a small vial of oil. Dennis watched as he began to gently massage Heathcote’s feet, the old man murmuring contentedly while his fingers idly strummed a few absent chords.
Luna was still sipping her wine, looking perfectly content.
When Anthony finished with Heathcote, he shifted to Luna, lifting one leg, revealing pale calves, rubbing her foot with his thumb. She tilted her head back and groaned appreciatively.
Dennis averted his eyes and finished washing the dishes. He couldn't help himself, he took another peek.
Her legs were pale and lovely under his hands, delicate folds of her dress gathered around her knees. The three of them were laughing, chatting, just enjoying what Dennis presumed was a family moment.
Then Heathcote’s voice cracked mid-line.
Anthony, without pause, kissed Luna’s knee in what looked like an act of worship.
Dennis wished that he had his camera to capture that moment.
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Dennis was back in his cramped flat, writing his piece and processing the pictures. Luna looked beautiful in every single one. Whether she was with the magical creatures, outdoors, or beside Anthony or Heathcote, nothing dimmed her shine.
London was loud and chaotic, but Dennis had nothing to do. He missed the quiet but busy haven.
He reread his article and knew it was dull. There was no real story unless one was happy with a straightforward rundown of the estate and a list of creatures. He was going to get fired. He could feel it.
He told himself he was following up for additional shots. Getting an update on the flying sea horses seemed like a smart angle. Maybe he’d even ask about the differences between the land and aquatic enclosures.
He wrote to Luna, requesting a return visit. When he arrived, he realised he’d forgotten his notebook. Oh well.
Luna met him by the stables, an invisible creature was eating an apple from her hand.
“Good morning. I’m glad you’re here again.”
You are?
Dennis cleared his throat and readied his camera. He snapped a quick photo. “I hope it’s okay if I take more pictures. And, uh… ask about the flying sea horses.”
“Of course!”
He tried to keep his gaze respectful, but the way she walked, her long hair swaying behind her, left him mesmerised.
He felt… a bit like a creep, trailing after her. What was this? Was he… attracted to her?
It felt clichéd and foolish. Luna already had a partner. A family. Upon closer inspection, she was, objectively, an ordinary-looking witch, with tangled blonde hair and dirt under her nails and chin. But her smile was infectious. It felt good to be around her. To watch her work. Just to exist near her.
He found himself keeping an eye out for Anthony, bitterly wondering where the lucky sod was. He had photos of them gazing into each other's eyes.
Dennis sighed, rubbing his eyes and silently berating himself. It was probably a sign he should start dating again. His last girlfriend was Eloise Midgen, and that had been years ago.
Maybe it was the guilt, but Dennis immediately offered to help with her chores. They carried brine down to the lake and cleaned the thunderbird enclosure, raking out its nest and replacing the dry leaves. The sun was hot, his back ached, but Dennis kept asking, “Anything else I can do?"
Quicker than a Fizzing Whizzbee, it was lunchtime.
Luna sniffed the air like one of her Crups. “Oh, can you smell that? I think my husband is back.”
Dennis was still reeling from the word husband. Did she mean Anthony?
But as soon as they stepped into the kitchen, all his assumptions were about to be turned upside-down and transfigured.
A dark-skinned man in a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves and fitted black slacks was serving what looked like pasta on the kitchen table.
Luna walked straight into his arms and kissed him passionately on the mouth.
“My love, it smells heavenly,” she said, kissing both his cheeks and cradling his face. “When did you return?”
“This morning,” he replied, still holding her close. “I brought the parmesan and olives fresh from Tuscany and knew I had to serve you, my dearest.”
The man finally noticed Dennis and raised an eyebrow. “And who is this, a new man?”
Dennis froze.
Luna swatted the man’s chest lightly. “He’s my guest. He’s writing about the seahorses and the sanctuary. You’re always telling me we need more publicity.”
“Ah! A journalist with a camera. I’d love some pictures of you to take along with me on my travels.”
“I can send the copies,” Dennis blurted. He wasn’t sure what was happening anymore.
“Thank you.” The man extended a hand. “Blaise Zabini. Have we met?”
Zabini. Upon hearing the name, Dennis’s stomach curled. “You’re a Slytherin.”
Blaise’s brow furrowed slightly, and Luna’s smile faltered. “Yes… from Hogwarts. Did we go to school together?”
“He’s Colin’s younger brother,” Luna said gently, still holding onto her husband's arm.
“Ah.”
“I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude,” Dennis stammered, backing away. “I think I should leave. Thank you, Luna, for… for letting me see the creatures again.”
He stepped out through the back door into the garden. As he passed the path, Heathcote was rolling his wheels with flabby arms.
“I smell the good cheese. Is Blaise back now?”
Dennis didn’t answer. He slung his bag over his shoulder and kept walking.
“Wait, Dennis!”
Luna caught up to him, her blue eyes wide with concern. “I’m not sure what just happened?”
Dennis felt like an arse for ruining her day, she’d looked so happy to see Blaise. “I’m sorry. Again. But… he’s a Slytherin and—”
"I didn't take you the prejudice kind."
"That's not me, that was-"
"Blaise is neither," Luna explained, and her voice was soft, but her shoulders were squared and firm. "He's learnt he was wrong a long time ago, and he wouldn't look down on you for your blood or your house."
It felt like a scolding, which, Dennis supposed, he deserved. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to accuse him, I'm still, I lost my brother to the war, so it's difficult for me."
“The war is long over,” Luna reminded him gently. The wind caught her hair, making it dance around her shoulders.“Blaise has done more for me than anyone ever has. I told you money was tight, he’s been funding the Haven. He’s a good man.”
“Is he really… your husband?”
“Yes. It was important to him, so I proposed."
“But you’re also… with…”
“Anthony? Oh yes. He’s also my partner.”
Dennis struggled to process the revelation. “I don’t understand.”
“They both love me. And choose to be with me,” Luna explained. “And I love them both in return.”
“How is that possible?” The question came out more like a breath of wonder than an accusation.
Luna stepped closer. Her fingers grazed Dennis’s face. She was smaller than he by a full foot, but he felt utterly powerless under her touch.
“It's just a choice we made.”
Deep down, the real truth was that Dennis didn’t actually care that Blaise had been a Slytherin. That wasn’t what had hit him so hard. It was the realisation that someone else could kiss her. Someone else could touch her. That she was not, in any way, off-limits like he’d tricked himself into believing.
She was right here, staring up at him, wild and warm and vivid, just like those perfectly captured photographs. And his mind betrayed him with the thought of what if.
His gaze drifted briefly to her pink lips.
He recognised the tight little gremlin in his chest.
Jealousy.
Dennis' life had been a long stretch of repetition: waking up to the same kettle whistle, the same crackling wireless voices, trudging through the same crowded pavements and grey corridors of jobs and watching life happen. But with Luna, he felt like he was part of the world, part of the movement. She was colour. She was different and warm and unpredictable, and with her, he felt awake.
Her character shone, so kind, it touched his dead heart and slowly healed the bruises like her many injured creatures. But she's also a guide, a leader who takes his hand, willing to guide him.
Dennis found himself wanting to follow, to please her, to be the reason she smiled or tilted her head with that curious affection, to carry things for her and do silly little tasks just to hear her say thank you. He felt foolish. Puppy love was for schoolboys and poets; what was he doing lusting over, interested in someone's wife and partner?
But that didn’t stop the want from blooming in his chest. The feelings only grow when she says, with quiet conviction.
“He’s mine." So suddenly, in a mild warning, "Please don't print anything cruel about my family."
It hit Dennis then, how he was looking at the whole haven wrong. This was her world, Luna was the one calling the shots.
He opened his mouth. Closed it again. The wind shifted the grass around them.
“I won’t,” he promised.
He couldn’t say anything else.
He was too caught in the slow smile blooming on her lips.
“Good.” She took his hand again. “Now come on. Let’s have lunch, yes?”
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He knew returning would only twist his heart further, but he couldn’t help himself. When Luna held his hand, any will to oppose her simply evaporated.
He was curious, he wanted to know what Luna's Love Haven was really like. He watched as Anthony returned, greeting Blaise with a sweaty black-clap hug like they were old mates. Heathcote strummed a cheerful tune from his chair, and Clementine the goat was stretched out dramatically on the cool kitchen tiles, baa-ing for her meal. Blaise looked distinctly out of place in his crisp shirt and tailored trousers, but he seamlessly integrated himself into the group. He sat beside Luna to feed her, gesturing for Dennis to sit as well. Anthony was thanking Blaise loudly for the cheese, and Heathcote sang a new song.
Blaise gently pushed back Luna's long hair as she ate.
Luna shared how his work had him travelling often. He sourced rare magical plants across Europe, supplying Potion Masters and feeding magical creatures for sanctuaries like Luna’s. Dennis, ever the journalist, couldn’t help asking, curiously but with effort to keep his tone neutral, how they’d met.
“Draco told me about this small magical creature sanctuary and asked if I could help with supplies.”
“He’s a dear friend,” Luna added brightly. “I cared for his peacocks once.”
“Those damned birds,” Blaise muttered with affection. “Anyway, I met her, and saw her vision, and, well, the rest was history.”
Dennis could imagine, Luna had this allure about her.
“Are you all in a relationship?” Dennis asked before he could think better of it.
Blaise raised a brow, leaning back in his chair. Anthony and Heathcote both laughed.
“That would’ve been something,” Anthony chuckled.
“No, Anthony and I are more like friends. Platonic,” Blaise clarified. “Though I’m allowed a kiss here and there.” Anthony winked at him.
“I’ve no interest in that sort of arrangement,” Heathcote added matter-of-factly. “But I do feel a deep kinship with dear Luna.”
“We’re here for her,” Blaise said simply.
“You’re all mine,” Luna said, and it was spoken with soft finality.
Blaise arched a brow again. “Everyone? Even Creevey here?”
“If he wants to be.”
None of the others reacted. They seemed to accept her answer without question.
Dennis, however, was internally combusting. Did she mean… was he…?
Could he be part of this?
No one said anything more on the subject. Through dessert, a rich chocolate brownie cake that made Luna moan happily and brought a rare full-toothed smile to Blaise’s face, Dennis remained quiet, replaying Luna’s words over and over.
If he wants to be.
After dinner, Anthony offered to do the dishes. Luna was already helping Heathcote into his chair. “A nice bath today, hmm? Come along, Clementine, you too.”
“Don’t strain yourself, love. The goat can have hers tomorrow,” Blaise called. Clementine was visibly displeased, trotting after the pair.
“We won’t!” Luna called back, laughing.
Blaise stayed behind, his eyes resting on Dennis, and he knew without a doubt he should stay back.
Dennis waited until Luna disappeared down the hallway before speaking. “Did she mean it?”
“Which part?”
Dennis’s heart rate rose, and he fidgeted in his seat. He didn’t want to be intimidated, but this was her husband. What were the rules here? “About… including me?”
Blaise let out a slow breath. “She always means what she says.”
“You’re okay with it?”
“It would be hypocritical if I weren't,” Blaise drawled. “When I came, Anthony was already here.”
Anthony turned slightly from the sink, suds on his hands. “Luna makes her own choices. She’s a capable woman. I've always known that about her. And she makes me—us—very happy.”
“How does it work?”
“We’re adults,” Blaise said flatly. “We talk. We communicate. She manages to give her attention to every creature on this property. Just to have even a moment of her time is a gift in itself.”
“It’s an honour,” Anthony added. “She’s got a genuine heart. She’s incredibly loving.”
“And we won’t let anyone hurt her.” That part carried a quiet steel to it. A warning. Dennis nearly scoffed, who the hell did this pureblood prick think he was?
“I don’t want to hurt her.”
Blaise raised a brow. “I think you’re hurting. And when people hurt, they often don’t know how to be anything else.”
“You don’t know me.”
“No,” Blaise said, folding his arms. “But I know what it’s like to wear grief like armour. You show up here, broken and wandering, and Luna can't help it; she wants to care. That’s her greatest power, and her greatest flaw. She welcomes anyone in need. That doesn’t mean we’ll let her be used.”
Anthony had stood beside Blaise now, drying his hands with a cloth. Dennis felt that hot curl of envy again. The two of them, though different, were united in one thing: they both loved her, had her. And they would protect her.
Dennis’s jaw clenched. “I don’t want to hurt her.” He repeated, hoping this time it came out sincere.
“Good,” Blaise acknowledged quietly. “Because if Luna chooses to accept you, you’d better understand, it’s a privilege. Don’t waste it.”
Dennis’s hand curled into a fist. “Would you rather I leave?”
“We’d rather you know what you’re doing,” Blaise replied, unflinching. “You’re following her around, and she’s letting you. So I’ll ask, do you actually know what you want here?”
It was a good question.
What did he want? Where was he going? His life had been ruled by grief, pushed by it, dragged by it. And he’d never really stopped to ask where he was headed.
He’d never decided.
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Dennis found her by the lake again.
The sun was low in the sky, and the water caught its gold like it had been poured directly into the shallows. Luna sat knee-deep in the lake, surrounded by shimmering, iridescent flying sea horses. One was in her lap, making soft, clicking sounds as she gently mended a tear along its translucent wing with her wand and the soft muttering of a healing charm.
He stood by the bank, hands in his pockets, Colin’s old camera pressing into his side from where it sat in his knapsack. For a while, he just watched. Her hands moved carefully. She was speaking softly to the creature, though Dennis couldn’t hear the words, he felt like he could hear the affection.
“Did my boys scare you?” she asked without looking.
Dennis sighed and admitted, “Not more than was necessary, I think.”
Aching to be closer, he sat down on the dry bank first, boots off, feet submerged in the cold water. But he was still too far away from her. He tossed his knapsack onto drier land and stepped deeper into the shallows, sitting beside her with a soft splash. The water was creeping just past his waist, it was cold and muddy, and he made a face as it got into his toes.
She giggled, and he hoped she was pleased he got into a mess.
His thoughts were a mess, Gryffindor instincts bristling under the surface, all heat and impulse. But this one he had to speak aloud.
“I like you, Luna.”
“I like you too,” she said simply.
Dennis swallowed, the words clumsy and hot in his mouth. “I don’t know why you would. I mean, you have Blaise and Anthony, you've only met me for two days.”
"Are you a bad person?"
"If I say no, would you believe me?"
"I don't think you're a liar."
"I can lie." He admitted, "I lie to myself all the time."
Luna eyed him with a wet smile, “Once, I lived a life where I had no one,” she petted the seahorse in her lap. “And now that I can love more than one, I’m not about to give up the chance.”
He looked at her, really looked. The flowers in her hair had wilted slightly from the water, and a bit of moss clung to her shoulder. She looked like she belonged here more than anything he’d ever seen.
“But how can one person love so many?”
Luna tilted her head, her voice airy but certain. “How can one not?”
He tried to form the next thought carefully, fingers flexing against the water. “You’d let me…”
She waited.
He breathed. “You’d let me kiss you?”
“Yes,” she said.
“You’re not worried about what it means?”
She took a moment to answer. “Sometimes we try to find a long list of reasons, but what does that matter when the heart already has the answer?" She caressed the wet scales of the seahorse, her fingers mesmerising. "I know it would mean a lot for you. And for me too.”
She reached out and took his hand, her palm cold and wet from the lake, and the seahorse in her lap let out a low, affectionate croon.
“You’re a strong lover,” Luna murmured, “that’s why you grieve so strongly too. I saw that and I'm interested in it. I think you came here needing something, why can't you have it?”
Dennis’s voice was barely above the waterline. “Some part of me is so calm, here with you.”
“I’m glad,” she whispered, and leaned in closer. Dennis could only helplessly stare at her pink, glistening lips. "I'm so glad."
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Luna led him to her bed. Graceful but insistent, holding Dennis by the wrist. Behind them, Blaise and Anthony exchanged a glance.
“Remember, Luna,” Blaise called, a smirk tugging at his lips, “I’m just a room away if you need me.”
Luna paused, turning back with a playful glint in her eyes. She stepped toward Blaise and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. Then, without missing a beat, she did the same to Anthony, her gratitude and affection clear in the way her lips lingered just a moment too long.
He understood what it meant to accept that it is what it is. He could appreciate the beauty of her, instead of being selfish and denying her.
Dennis watched, his heart pounding, as she returned to him, her hand finding his once more.
The door clicked shut behind them, and suddenly, it was just the two of them. And suddenly felt very intimate. Luna turned to face him, her eyes dark with desire, and Dennis felt his breath catch in his throat. He has no idea how she does it, make him feel like he was important.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah.”
“We can just sleep tonight?”
“I- no, I want to.” Like those flying seahorses, he was relearning how to fly and he wanted to go higher and higher.
“Okay, but you can tell me to stop anytime you want.”
Her hands came up to rest on his chest, her fingers splaying over the fabric of his shirt. She looked up at him, her gaze searching, and then, without another word, she leaned in, her lips meeting his in a kiss that was both tender and hungry.
Dennis’s hands found her waist, pulling her closer, and he could feel the way her body moulded against his. Her tongue brushed against his lips, and he opened to her, the kiss deepening and as sweet as honey. Dennis felt himself losing control, his body responding to her.
Luna’s hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, her fingers deftly undoing them one by one. She broke the kiss just long enough to push the fabric off his shoulders, her eyes roaming over his chest and caught his gaze and rewarded him with a coy smile. Her hands were warm as they traced the lines of his muscles, Dennis released a low groan.
“Luna,” he breathed.
She didn’t respond with words, instead pressing her lips to his chest, her kisses trailing down to his stomach. Her hands moved to his belt, and Dennis’s breath hitched as she undid it, her fingers brushing against the growing bulge in his pants. She looked up at him, and that beautiful blue made him think of falling into an ocean, he was never coming back up, and then she was pulling his pants down, her hands sliding over his hips as she knelt before him.
Dennis’s heart was pounding, his body on fire as Luna’s hands wrapped around him, her touch sending jolts of pleasure through him. She looked up at him, her lips curving into an encouraging smile, and then she took him into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the tip before she took him deeper. Dennis gasped, hands tangled in her hair, his hips bucking involuntarily as she worked him, her mouth hot and wet around him.
“Fuck, Luna,” he groaned, his voice strained.
“Yes, please.”
She pulled back, her lips swollen and glistening, and stood, her hands moving to the hem of her dress. She pulled it over her head in one fluid motion, revealing the lace bra and panties beneath. Dennis’s eyes raked over her, taking in the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts, the way her skin seemed to glow in the soft light. She was sturdy, farm work made sure she had muscle, built harder than how she looked. Still breathtaking, a surge of desire so intense it almost knocked him off balance.
Luna’s hands moved to his chest as she pushed him back onto her bed. He fell onto the soft lilac mattress, his eyes never leaving her as she climbed onto the bed, straddling him. Her hands moved to her bra, and she unhooked it, letting it fall to the floor. Her breasts were perfect, her nipples hard and begging for attention, and Dennis’s hands reached for her, his fingers brushing over her skin.
“Thank you,” he blurted stupidly, but it was his sincere thought in the moment. And she giggled, leaning down, her lips capturing his in another hot kiss, her body pressing against his. Dennis’s hands moved to her hips, pulling her closer, and he could feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of her panties. She rocked against him, her arse kneading his cock, and a heady moan escaped his lips.
“Luna, Luna.”
She pulled back, her eyes locking with his, and then she reached between them, pulling her panties to the side. Dennis almost believed he was drowning, unable to breathe as she positioned herself over him, her hand guiding him to her entrance. She sank down onto him slowly, her body stretching to accommodate him, and Dennis felt a wave of pleasure so intense it overwhelmed him.
“Oh, God,” he groaned, his hands gripping her hips as she began to move.
Luna’s movements were slow at first, her hips rolling against his as she took him deeper. Her head fell back, her eyes closing as she lost herself in the sensation, and Dennis was struggling to remain composed, holding onto his own need, lost in the velvet squeeze of her cunt, pulling him deeper with every thrust. Her hands moved to her breasts, her fingers teasing her nipples, and he could just stare at her, eyes wide, holding onto her thighs.
She was in control.
Luna’s eyes opened, her gaze locking with his, and she leaned towards him to kiss him again, tongue playing with his teeth. Her movements became more urgent, her hips grinding, undulating above him, and Dennis felt like his last hold onto his control slipping, no, forcefully yanked from him.
“Dennis,” she moaned, a sultry whisper that sent a shiver down his spine.
“I’m close,” he warned.
This seemed to spur her on. Luna’s movements became more urgent, and he was gasping, body taut and ready.
“Come for me, Dennis.”
His body tensing as he spilt inside her, fingers digging into her thighs, he must have left a mark. Luna’s body clenched around him, her own orgasm following soon after, and she collapsed against him, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
Dennis’s arms wrapped around her, as they both waited to calm their breathing, holding her close, and he felt a sense of fulfilment he hadn’t known was possible.
I could fall in love with you.
With this.
“Luna,” he whispered reverently. With gratitude.
Luna caressed his arms, up and down.
He understood what Blaise and Anthony meant now.
This was a gift.
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Dear Dennis,
Your mother says I should start with something cheerful, so here it is: I have a new lined of milk in stock, banana milk. It's the hot new trend for the youngsters. Selling like rockets, so you don't have to worry about us, we're doing just fine here.
We still miss you. I know you feel like you have to do this, for Colin. That staying in the wizarding world is your way of honouring him. And I understand. we might not know any magic but you two were own special magic, we'd want to see you shine wherever you go.
But son… I worry that you’ve carried your brother’s memory like a weight instead of a light.
I worry that you think you have to live for two, when all we've ever wanted, Colin as well, is for you to live for yourself.
Colin wouldn’t want you to be alone, Dennis. He was many things, but he was never lonely. He found joy in people. In the little things. I think if he could speak to you now, he’d tell you to put his camera down. It's time for your own story.
We miss him. God, we miss him every day. But we miss you too, Dennis. You’ve been gone a long time, we know you can't come back until you found what you're looking for.
So whatever you’re doing, wherever you are, just know this: we want you to find it. Have that happiness. When you're ready, our door is always open.
With all our love,
Dad
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Dennis woke slowly, it's the kind of luxury wealthy men have. The kind of morning where there was no pressure to be anywhere, the morning light was soft, slanting through the curtains in bands of gold. Luna’s arm was draped around his waist, her forehead pressed to the bare skin of his back, her breath slow and warm against his spine. He wanted to snuggle into her spoon a little while longer.
The bed was warm, the room quiet. No London noises and anxious chaos.
Somewhere outside the window, flying seahorses glided lazily through the morning air, their wings casting flickers of silver and green across the lake. From the kitchen came the comforting murmur of voices, Blaise speaking, Anthony laughing softly at something, the rhythmic clatter of dishes. And Heathcote, humming a tune under his breath in harmony with the goat.
Dennis lay still and let it wash over him.
By some magic, he's part of this now.
His knapsack was beside the bed he's in Luna's room.
After this, Anthony will promise they'd get to making his own room soon. Everything he owns will be shrunken and moved here. He'll reply his dad's letter, he'll keep Colin's camera in a nice box.
He'll resign from Monthly Tidbit. He wants to work with the creatures on the estate.
But first, he would write to someone else.
He'll finish a letter he started a few days ago, to his favourite wireless programme.
Dear Lee Jordan,
I want to talk about magical sea creatures.
And a place called Love Haven.