THE TOWER AND THE STAR - Pansy Neville (HP)

Getting ready for the evening, Pansy Parkinson found herself in unfamiliar territory—something she absolutely hated. Normally, choosing an outfit and applying makeup was second nature to her, a task she could accomplish effortlessly, blindfolded even. Yet tonight, everything felt different. This wasn't just another fancy dinner or social event, it was the official dinner before her impending, forced marriage to Neville Longbottom.

The man was completely unexpected in her life. Pansy, who had always been sharp-tongued and composed, felt a strange mix of excitement and anxiety as she sifted through her wardrobe. This wasn't just about looking good—she could manage that in her sleep. This was about impressing someone who had thrown her completely off balance without even trying. And that bothered her more than she was willing to admit. Neville Longbottom. Of all people.

"Calm down, Parkinson," she muttered to herself as she scrutinized the last dress in her hand, a deep emerald green one that clung in all the right places. Elegant, but not too revealing. Classic, but not boring. It would do. She quickly applied her makeup, a bit of rouge to highlight her cheekbones, lips painted a bold red to remind herself of who she was—someone unafraid, someone in control.

But was she, really?

By 6 o'clock, Neville stood nervously in front of her door. He had been pacing outside for a good five minutes, clutching a large box wrapped in a bow, his nerves getting the better of him. He wasn't sure why he felt so anxious. This dinner was just a formality. They were being forced into this marriage, weren't they? Yet the idea of seeing Pansy tonight made his stomach flip in ways he couldn't understand.

He raised his hand and knocked once, then again, before glancing at his watch. The minutes felt like hours. Was he overdressed? Should he have gone for a more casual look? Was the box too much?

Just as he was about to knock for a third time, the door swung open.

Pansy stood before him, and for a moment, Neville forgot how to breathe. She looked… stunning. The emerald dress hugged her in a way that made it hard for him to think clearly, and her eyes, always so sharp, softened just slightly as they met his. For the first time in their strange, forced relationship, Neville saw Pansy as someone more than just the sarcastic girl from Slytherin.

Her own eyes widened as she took in the sight of him. He had always been unassuming in her eyes, but tonight was different. His attire was simple but incredibly handsome—a dark suit, perfectly tailored, with a touch of something personal. And then there was the box. Large, wrapped in dark green ribbon, it caught her attention immediately.

Neville stood at Pansy's doorstep, and she was taken aback by how incredibly handsome he looked. His suit, perfectly tailored, seemed to complement the easy confidence he exuded. He held a box, wrapped meticulously with a rich, emerald bow, and his presence brought an unexpected warmth to the evening. Despite the tension between them, there was something undeniably charming and thoughtful about him tonight.

"Good evening, Miss Parkinson," Neville greeted with a playful smirk, his usual shyness replaced with a touch of smugness.

"Good evening, husband," Pansy responded, her tone light but laced with amusement. She couldn't help but soften around him, even though the word "husband" felt strange on her tongue.

Without missing a beat, Neville stepped closer, gently brushing his lips against hers in a kiss that was tender but confident. "I brought you something special," he murmured, his eyes warm as he held up the carefully wrapped box.

Curiosity flickered in Pansy's eyes as she opened the door wider, allowing him to step inside. "Oh? You certainly know how to intrigue a girl. Come in, then," she said, her voice betraying more eagerness than she intended.

Neville followed her through the foyer, his eyes briefly glancing over the elegant decor before landing on her. He admired the way Pansy carried herself, poised and elegant, yet tonight there was something softer about her.

As they entered the dining room, the soft glow of candles bathed the room in a golden hue. The atmosphere was intimate, with the flickering flames casting long shadows across the walls. The scent of lavender and freshly baked bread filled the air, a testament to the house-elves' meticulous care in preparing the meal. But as Neville's gaze moved to the table, it was the dessert that caught his eye.

In the center of the table sat an elaborate cake, beautifully decorated with delicate sugared flowers. It was clear that this wasn't the house-elves' doing. The attention to detail was unmistakably Pansy's—a personal touch from the woman who, no matter how sharp her tongue, always found a way to create beauty.

"This looks amazing, darling," Neville said, genuinely impressed as he glanced at the dinner setup, but his eyes sparkled with anticipation. "But first, I really need to give you this special present."

With an excited grin, he placed the large box on the floor and began to open it slowly, deliberately drawing out the suspense. Pansy raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Darling," Neville said, his tone almost reverent, "I want you to meet Lady Lemongrass." With a flourish, he revealed the contents of the box—a tiny, wriggling pug, with soft, velvety ears and a squished-up face that only a true dog lover could adore. "She's my dog, and she's family. I thought it would be nice to introduce her to you early on."

Pansy blinked, her expression shifting from surprise to something warmer. She knelt down and peered into the box, and a genuine smile tugged at her lips. "Oh my god," she said softly, her voice filled with unexpected affection. "She's so adorable! Look at her little face." Her eyes gleamed as she gently lifted the pug into her arms, cradling the squirming bundle of joy. "Thank you so much, Nev."

Then, with her usual playful sass, she quipped, "She is… quite unique-looking, isn't she?"

Neville chuckled, remembering the banter of their youth. "Parky, when we were kids, you used to tease me about how I looked. You'd call me all sorts of things—ugly being one of them."

Pansy looked up at him, her face softening with an unexpected vulnerability. "I know, Nev. I remember." There was a pause, the weight of their past hanging in the air. "But you're not ugly anymore. You've grown into yourself. You're… quite handsome now." She smiled faintly, but there was a glimmer of sadness in her eyes. "And yes, I teased you, but don't forget—I was the 'pug-faced girl,' remember? So, this," she motioned to the pug in her arms, "feels a little bit… pointed."

Neville's expression turned serious for a moment as he stepped closer. "Pansy," he said softly, but firmly, "she's my dog. I'm not giving her up, just like I'm not giving up my life, my apartment, or who I am. But—" his lips curved into a gentle smile as he watched Pansy nuzzle the pug, "seeing as you're already cuddling her and practically kissing her, I think you two are going to be best friends before you know it."

Pansy shot him a mock glare, but it quickly melted into an affectionate grin. "Fine, fine," she said, sighing dramatically. "Of course we'll be best friends. I mean, how could I resist her? I'm not exactly easy to get along with," she added with a sly wink, "but I suppose I can make an exception for Lady Lemongrass."

Lady Lemongrass snorted happily in Pansy's arms, settling comfortably as if she knew she was exactly where she was meant to be.

"Looks like she's already chosen you," Neville teased. "Let's have dinner, Miss Sassy," he said, motioning toward the table.

Unfortunately for Neville, Pansy took to her new role as a "dog mom" with gusto. By the time they sat down to dinner, Lady Lemongrass had undergone a complete transformation. The once modest pug was now decked out in a frilly, hot-pink outfit, complete with a real pearl necklace. The pug sat perched beside Pansy, head held high, looking every bit like the royal companion she had quickly become, thoroughly pampered and utterly regal.

As Neville sliced into his steak, he couldn't help but glance at Lady Lemongrass, who was now being fed tiny bites of gourmet chicken off a silver fork. Raising an eyebrow, he turned to Pansy, trying to suppress a grin. "Parky, you know you don't have to treat the dog like royalty, right?"

Pansy gasped, clutching Lady Lemongrass dramatically to her chest as though Neville had just committed the ultimate offense. "How dare you!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with mock outrage. "Look at her! She's helpless without me, Neville. A delicate flower in need of constant care and attention!" She stroked the pug's head tenderly, cooing as if addressing a small child.

Neville leaned back in his chair, laughing softly. "She's a pug, Pansy, not an heir to the throne."

Pansy shot him a look, her lips twitching into a playful smile. "Says you. Lady Lemongrass is now a vital part of this household, and I won't have you question her status, Longbottom." She kissed the pug's forehead as if sealing the declaration with royal decree.

Neville rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress the affection in his voice. "You're incorrigible."

"And you love it," Pansy shot back, giving him a wink. Lady Lemongrass, with her pearl necklace glinting in the candlelight, gave a snort of approval, as if to say she too understood her importance in this new arrangement.

Neville sighed, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. "What you need are some friends, Panrky."

She straightened her posture, eyes narrowing in immediate defense. "I have friends, thank you very much," she replied, almost indignantly.

" Girl friends," he clarified, undeterred. "Why don't you go see Luna?"

Pansy scoffed, waving her hand in dramatic dismissal. "Luna? That girl's always off in her own world, floating around like a daydream. And don't even get me started on her endless positivity! It's absolutely exhausting!"

He chuckled, finding her frustration oddly endearing. "Alright, what about Ginny?"

Pansy's face contorted in scandalized disbelief. "Absolutely not! I do not associate with her kind ."

He blinked, thrown off. "Her kind ? Pansy, that's incredibly offensive. Ginny's a pureblood."

She tossed her hair over her shoulder with a huff. "She's a redhead , Neville. That's practically a crime. Not to mention she's always ready to hex someone. It's beneath me."

Neville stared at her, struggling to keep a straight face. "You do realize that's the most ridiculous thing you've said all day, right?"

Pansy waved off his comment as if it didn't matter. "Ridiculous or not, it stands."

He shook his head, amused, and ventured further. "What about Hermione?"

Pansy sighed dramatically, as if the mere mention of Hermione was too exhausting to bear. "We'll get there," she said, waving a hand in the air with theatrical flair. "She and Draco are practically dancing with the devil, and honestly, I have no desire to get entangled in that web of chaos. I prefer my sanity, thank you very much."

Neville, accustomed to her flair for the dramatic, simply smiled. "So, you'll visit Luna, then?"

Pansy's eyes widened in exaggerated horror. "Why on earth would I do that?" Her voice shot up an octave, as if he had suggested something truly outrageous. "We are nothing alike! She's all… whimsical and odd, with her dreamy nonsense and strange trinkets. And I'm—well, I'm me !"

Neville chuckled, his eyes twinkling with affection. "You're more alike than you think, darling." He patted his lap with a soft, commanding touch. "Sit, princess."

Pansy hesitated, her instinctive sass warring with the undeniable pull she felt toward him. She raised an eyebrow, as if debating whether to resist or give in. But, like a scene straight out of a grand drama, her resolve weakened under the weight of their shared chemistry. Slowly, deliberately, she stood and glided toward him, her every movement filled with theatrical elegance.

As she settled onto his lap, her breath hitched, and their eyes locked in a moment so intense it could have been scripted. His hands rested gently on her waist, grounding her even as her heart raced.

"Promise me you'll visit Luna," Neville whispered, his voice a blend of tenderness and unyielding strength.

Pansy gazed into his eyes, the tension between them humming with electricity. The defiance she was so known for flickered momentarily, but something deeper—something more vulnerable—began to surface. In his presence, with his gaze steady and reassuring, her usual armor started to crumble. She nodded slowly, as though captivated by the raw sincerity in his request.

In that fleeting moment, it felt as if the world around them fell away, leaving only the two of them, their contrasting energies perfectly intertwined. Her dramatics met his calm, creating a connection that was unspoken but undeniable—a push and pull that neither of them fully understood but both were undeniably drawn to.

"I'll visit Luna," she murmured, her voice softer than usual, her walls down just enough for Neville to see the truth beneath.

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

Pansy woke up to the gentle warmth of sunlight streaming through her curtains, her eyes fluttering open to find Lady Lemongrass snuggled beside her. With a dramatic sigh that could rival the best of Shakespearean heroines, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, already dreading the day ahead. Yet today was different. Today, she had resolved to give this whole "friendship" thing a real shot—though she wasn't entirely sure why she felt compelled to do so.

After selecting an outfit she deemed both stunning and fierce, Pansy squared her shoulders, mentally preparing herself for whatever awaited her. With a flick of her wand, she Apparated to the front of Nott Manor. The moment she arrived, her eyes widened in theatrical disbelief. It felt as if she'd crossed into an entirely different realm. Magical creatures flitted about, their wings sparkling in the sunlight, while delicate fairies danced through the air, casting a soft, ethereal glow over everything. It was like stepping into a whimsical bedtime story, all sweetness and light.

Pansy, ever the dramatic soul, placed a hand over her heart, gasping as she took in the scene. "Merlin's beard, what have I gotten myself into?" she muttered under her breath, feigning a swoon as if she were about to confront some great, unknown peril.

With a deep breath, she braced herself and approached the grand entrance. The manor loomed overhead, as if daring her to turn back. But Pansy Parkinson was no coward. She raised her hand, hesitating just long enough to let the drama of the moment wash over her. With a final flourish, she knocked on the door, her heart racing faster than she would ever admit.

The sound echoed through the stillness, a prelude to the unknown that awaited her inside. Pansy could almost feel the anticipation thrumming in the air, a palpable tension that mirrored her own inner conflict. She was ready to step into a world of friendship—if only she could convince herself that it wouldn't end in disaster.

As Pansy stood waiting, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was on the brink of stepping into an entirely new world. This realm felt far too cheerful and bright for her taste, but she was determined to conquer it all the same.

When Theo finally opened the door, his expression was a curious blend of irritation and surprise. "What are you doing here, Parkinson?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

Pansy rolled her eyes, lifting her chin in her signature haughty manner. "I'm here to make friends, Theodore. Apparently, that's what I've been lacking in my life," she declared, letting out an exaggerated sigh as if the mere idea of socializing were the greatest burden imaginable.

Theo's brow furrowed, his sarcasm practically dripping from his words. "Leave my wife alone. She's too sensitive for you."

Before Pansy could retort, Luna's gentle voice floated in from somewhere inside the manor. "Who is it, my Sun?"

Theo barely contained a smirk. "It's a spoiled brat."

Pansy gasped theatrically, placing a hand on her chest as if she'd been mortally wounded. "Draco's here?" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of shock and faux concern.

Luna's voice softened. "No, it's the other one," Theo replied, his amusement evident.

At that moment, Luna appeared, floating gracefully to the door. Her serene smile lit up the space, casting a warm glow that contrasted sharply with Pansy's dramatic entrance. "Oh, hello, Pansy!" Luna said, her tone cheerful and inviting.

Pansy felt her defenses begin to soften, caught off guard by Luna's unwavering warmth. In an instant, she dropped the theatrics and turned on the charm, her tone sugary sweet. "Hello, Luna. What's this about a 'spoiled brat,' Theodore?" She shot Theo a glare that could have shattered glass.

Theo shrugged, an air of indifference cloaking him. "Are you not?"

Pansy's eyes narrowed into slits as she placed a hand on her hip, tilting her head in an exaggerated pose. "Oh, why don't you just fuck off, Theodore?" she snapped, though the playful lilt in her voice betrayed her feigned annoyance.

Luna giggled softly, clearly entertained by their banter. Sensing an opportunity to further bond with Luna, Pansy shifted her expression into one of exaggerated concern. "Luna, darling, we simply must do something about your husband. He's far too cheeky for his own good!"

Her words hung in the air, and the room filled with laughter, a warm contrast to the tension of the outside world. At that moment, Pansy realized that perhaps this gathering wouldn't be a trial after all, but rather a chance to forge new connections, one cheeky remark at a time.

Luna's smile brightened, her eyes sparkling with affection as she gazed at Pansy. "I have no doubt you'll manage, Pansy. Theo can be quite the handful, but I believe you're more than equipped for the task."

Pansy huffed dramatically, tossing her hair back with a flourish. "Oh, don't you fret, Luna. I have my *methods* for dealing with unruly men," she declared, her voice dripping with mock seriousness as she shot another pointed look at Theo, who merely rolled his eyes in response, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. 

"You think you can handle me, Parkinson?" Theo quipped, crossing his arms, clearly enjoying the exchange.

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Pansy leaned closer to Luna. "Let's just say I have a few tricks up my sleeve," she replied conspiratorially, her tone light yet filled with an undercurrent of challenge. The room buzzed with their camaraderie, a warmth enveloping them that made Pansy feel just a bit more at home in this whimsical world.

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

Being friendly was a Herculean task for Pansy; every polite word felt as though it were being pried from her lips against its will. For Luna, however, it was as effortless as breathing. Pansy couldn't wrap her head around it.

Leaning in closer, Pansy narrowed her eyes, suspicion flickering across her face as she scrutinized Luna's perpetual cheerfulness. "Luna, have you ever done any drugs? Be honest with me."

Luna blinked, her serene smile unwavering. "I've experimented with a few things. Why do you ask? Are you offering?"

Pansy's eyes widened in exaggerated shock, nearly spilling her teacup. "Merlin's beard, no! I mean, I wish I had something to offer, but—" She threw her hands up theatrically. "That's not the point! The point is, why are you always so infuriatingly cheerful? It's just unnatural!"

Luna tilted her head, her gaze drifting off as if pondering the mysteries of the universe. "It's just who I am, I suppose. Life is filled with strange and wonderful experiences. Why not embrace the joy?"

Pansy blinked, momentarily taken aback by the simplicity of Luna's philosophy. "Joy?" she echoed, incredulous. "Is that what you call this relentless sunshine and rainbows? You must have a secret stash of optimism somewhere!"

Luna giggled softly, her laughter light and airy. "Perhaps I do! Or maybe I just choose to see the beauty in things."

She huffed, half-annoyed, half-amused. "You're positively maddening, you know that?" Yet, despite herself, she felt a warmth blooming within her, a strange and foreign sensation in the presence of Luna's unwavering brightness.

Pansy let out an exaggerated sigh, placing a hand on her forehead as if the very weight of Luna's positivity was pressing down on her. "Well, that's one way to look at it, I suppose. But honestly, Luna, there has to be more to it. No one can be that happy all the time without some sort of magical intervention!"

Luna's serene smile remained unfazed as Pansy's frustration hit its peak.

"Maybe you should try sharing a bed with Neville," Luna suggested, her voice tinged with whimsical lightness.

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "Excuse me?"

Luna's gaze remained dreamy, as if she were lost in her own cloud of thoughts. "Pansy, don't be so uptight. Sometimes a little affection can do wonders."

Pansy's shock quickly morphed into dramatic dismay. "I am not uptight! But wait—did you really manage to take the lover boy's virginity?"

Luna blinked slowly, contemplating the question as if it were a riddle. "He offered it very willingly."

Pansy's jaw dropped, her hand flying to her mouth in mock horror. "Oh, goodness! He was so obsessed with you! You have nooo idea!"

Luna's smile remained gentle and enigmatic. "Was he? Well, I suppose it's still true."

Pansy's eyes narrowed, her curiosity piqued. "Okay, you have to spill everything. I need all the juicy details!"

And just like that, their friendship began to blossom, fueled by shared amusement over Theo's unrequited crush and Luna's ethereal musings. Pansy, with her dramatic flair, and Luna, with her whimsical charm, wove a bond that was as unpredictable and enchanting as Luna herself.

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

Pansy felt as though her execution day had finally arrived—or so it seemed. It wasn't that she didn't like Neville; in fact, his awkward charm was starting to grow on her. Yet the sheer horror of the situation loomed large. Here she was, forced to don a last-minute wedding dress shipped in a panic all the way from Italy. Italy! The thought alone made her want to swoon in despair at the sheer humiliation her mother would feel.

The dress itself was undeniably beautiful—delicate lace, intricate beading, and the finest silk. But it wasn't *the* dress. It wasn't the gown she had envisioned since she was a little girl, prancing around in her mother's heels. Walking down the aisle in anything less than her dream gown felt like she was being led to the gallows.

"Honestly," Pansy muttered to herself as she scrutinized her reflection in the mirror, "what a tragedy. My mother would simply faint if she saw this."

Her mind conjured an image of her mother's face, contorted in shock and dismay. The Parkinson matriarch had standards—high ones. "This is a catastrophe of epic proportions," she sighed, smoothing the fabric of the dress, her fingers trembling slightly as they grazed the luxurious silk.

Yet, amid her swirling doubts and dramatic inner monologue, a small voice whispered that it wasn't about the dress at all. It was about the man waiting for her at the end of the aisle. While that thought didn't completely ease her anxious heart, it was enough to keep her from launching into a full-blown tantrum.

At least for now.

Neville knocked gently on the door, his knuckles tapping softly against the wood. When Pansy opened it, he couldn't help but stare, a genuine smile blooming across his face. "You look incredible, Parky," he said, his voice laced with admiration.

Pansy rolled her eyes, but inside, her heart fluttered at the compliment. "Oh, don't be ridiculous."

But Neville wasn't about to let her self-doubt dim the moment. "You look absolutely breathtaking, darling."

With an exaggerated sigh, she waved her hand dismissively. "Thank you, but this isn't what I wanted."

His brows furrowed slightly in concern. "Sorry to remind you, but I'm your husband now. I thought we were having a lovely time."

Her eyes widened in alarm. "Not you— the dress ! Look at it!"

Neville followed her gaze, taking in the exquisite gown that draped around her. "It's beautiful, darling."

"You're just saying that," she pouted, crossing her arms defensively over her chest.

"I am not," he insisted, stepping closer. "You are absolutely gorgeous, with or without the dress. Though, to be honest, I'd prefer you without it."

Pansy's cheeks flushed a deep pink, leaving her momentarily at a loss for words. "Oh... well… thank you," she murmured, her usual confidence wavering under his gaze.

Neville chuckled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Anytime, Mrs. Longbottom," he said, his voice warm with affection.

In that instant, the dress didn't seem quite so tragic after all.

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

The grand hall of the Ministry of Magic loomed large, an imposing space filled with the low murmur of hushed conversations and the rustling of formal robes. Pansy Parkinson stood at the front, acutely aware of every eye on her. Clad in the elegant Italian wedding gown, she felt beautiful but acutely aware that it wasn't the dress she had always envisioned for this moment. The irony cut deep—this was meant to be the happiest day of her life, yet here she was, standing in a room that felt more like a courtroom than a chapel, about to be legally bound to a man she was still learning to understand.

Beside her, Neville exuded a mix of determination and something softer—an emotion that made her heart flutter, though she'd never admit it. He looked unexpectedly handsome in his formal robes, standing straight and confident, even if a current of nervous energy rippled beneath the surface.

The Ministry official, a stern witch with a tight bun and an expression that could curdle milk, began the ceremony. Her voice was clipped and efficient, lacking the warmth one might expect at a wedding. This was a legal obligation, devoid of romantic flourishes.

"We are gathered here today under the authority of the Ministry of Magic to unite these two individuals in marriage, as per the new laws enacted for the preservation of our kind," she began, her voice slicing through the silence of the hall. "Neville Longbottom, do you consent to take Pansy Parkinson as your lawfully wedded wife?"

Neville glanced at Pansy, his expression softening as their eyes met. "I do," he replied firmly, the sincerity in his voice surprising even him.

The official nodded, turning her gaze toward Pansy. "Pansy Parkinson, do you consent to take Neville Longbottom as your lawfully wedded husband?"

For a fraction of a second, Pansy hesitated, her mind racing. But when she looked into Neville's eyes, she found a steadiness that made her feel grounded and safe. "I do," she declared, her voice steady despite the rapid beat of her heart.

"By the power vested in me by the Ministry of Magic, I now pronounce you husband and wife," the official declared, her tone still brisk and businesslike. "You may proceed with the next step of the process."

A pang of disappointment shot through Pansy. No romantic vows, no grand gestures—just another checkbox in a long list of obligations. As she prepared to step back, Neville reached out, taking her hand in his with surprising gentleness.

Startled, she looked up at him as he pulled her closer. A flicker of uncertainty danced in his eyes, but then he leaned down and kissed her. It wasn't part of the official proceedings, but it felt right—tender and tentative at first, then deepening into something more profound—a promise that they would navigate this unexpected journey together.

Her breath caught as she kissed him back, her hands finding their way to his shoulders. The room around them faded into a blur, the onlookers melting into the background, leaving just the two of them in that moment. When they finally pulled away, the hall was enveloped in stunned silence.

The official cleared her throat, flustered. "Um... yes. You may sign the documents now."

But Pansy and Neville barely heard her. They were lost in each other's eyes, sharing a quiet moment of understanding. The kiss hadn't been required, but it had changed everything.

For the first time, Pansy felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this marriage wouldn't be so bad after all.

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

As soon as they stepped through the grand entrance of the Parkinson Manor, they were met with a curious hum of magic in the air. The entire manor seemed to vibrate around them, as if the ancient walls themselves were adjusting to the new presence within them. The magic of the house recognized its new master, and it was making its approval—or perhaps its cautious curiosity—known.

Pansy paused for a moment in the foyer, taking in the subtle changes that had already begun. The Manor felt different, as though it were alive, shifting slightly to accommodate its new occupant. 

Neville, on the other hand, noticed something else. His belongings, which had been neatly packed in his flat just that morning, were now perfectly arranged throughout the Manor. The elves had been thorough; his clothes were hung up in a wardrobe, his books placed carefully on a set of shelves in what appeared to be a shared library, and even his herbology tools had been stored away in a small, sunlit greenhouse attached to the east wing of the Manor.

"It's like the house knew I was coming," Neville remarked, his voice tinged with awe as he glanced around at his belongings, now integrated into the luxurious surroundings.

Pansy watched him with a mixture of amusement and something warmer. "The elves have been busy," she said, her tone lighter than usual, trying to mask the flutter in her chest. "They've made sure you're settled in, whether you like it or not."

Neville turned to her, a smile playing on his lips. "Well, it seems I'm here to stay." 

Pansy raised an eyebrow, her usual sass returning. "That was never in question, Nevie. This is your home now, too."

There was a pause as they both let those words sink in—*your home*. It felt strange, but not unwelcome.

Neville stepped closer, his hand brushing hers briefly, a touch that sent a small, electric thrill through her. "I suppose it is," he said softly, glancing around the grand space before looking back at her. "We'll make it work, won't we?"

Pansy gave him a sidelong glance, her lips curving into a smirk. "We don't really have a choice, do we?"

He chuckled, but there was something in his gaze that made her heart skip a beat—a certainty, a promise that he was willing to try, for both of them. 

The Manor continued to hum softly, almost as if it were watching them, waiting to see how they would shape this new chapter of their lives together.

Neville smiled at Pansy, the warmth in his eyes making her stomach flutter in a way she wasn't used to. It was disarming, the way he looked at her—not like she was a trophy or some prize to be won, but like she was… real. It unsettled her, but it was comforting, too. This whole marriage thing was supposed to be a cage, something that trapped her, but here she was, standing with Neville Longbottom of all people, feeling strangely free.

"It feels weird," Pansy repeated, glancing away for a moment as she tried to put her thoughts into words. "All my life, I've been groomed for this role, you know? To be someone's perfect wife, to play the part. I always assumed it would be someone I'd probably end up resenting. Someone I'd spite just to keep my sanity. But then… there you are."

Neville watched her closely, sensing the shift in her tone, the honesty in her words. "Go on," he encouraged gently, stepping a little closer.

Pansy rolled her eyes, trying to deflect the vulnerability she felt creeping up on her. "Do I have to tell you my feelings or something? Isn't that what the soul bond is for?" She said it with a touch of her usual sass, but there was a softness beneath it.

"No, you don't have to," Neville replied, his voice steady and kind. "But I'd like to hear it from that pretty mouth of yours."

She glanced at him, surprised by the quiet confidence in his words. He wasn't pushing her, just… asking. And in that moment, she realized that she wanted to tell him, that it didn't feel like an obligation or a burden. It felt… right.

"Well," she started, her voice a little more vulnerable than she'd intended, "I like you, Neville. I didn't expect to, but I do."

Neville's smile widened, his eyes lighting up with a mixture of relief and affection. "I like you too, Pansy."

She looked up at him, their eyes meeting, and for a moment, everything else faded away—their complicated pasts, the expectations, the uncertainty of their future. It all melted into the background, leaving just the two of them, standing in this strange, vibrating Manor, feeling something real for the first time.

Pansy let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "Well, isn't that something," she murmured, almost to herself.

Neville took her hand, squeezing it gently. "Yeah, it is."

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

The first night at Parkinson Manor was anything but restful for Neville. The sprawling estate was unlike anything he had ever experienced; its endless corridors and grandiose rooms made him feel impossibly small and out of place. The ceilings soared high above him, adorned with intricate chandeliers that cast dancing shadows along the ornate walls. Every step he took echoed, a constant reminder of the vast emptiness surrounding him.

He had tried to settle into his assigned bedroom—a lavish chamber adorned with rich fabrics and antique furniture—but sleep eluded him. The bed was too soft, the room too quiet, and his mind too restless. After tossing and turning for what felt like hours, Neville gave up on the idea of sleep altogether. Pulling on a cozy sweater over his pajamas, he decided a warm cup of tea might help soothe his nerves.

Navigating the labyrinthine halls in the dim light was a challenge, but eventually, Neville found his way to the Manor's expansive kitchen. To his surprise, the room was already illuminated by a soft, golden glow. The warm scent of freshly baked goods filled the air, wrapping around him like a comforting blanket.

There, perched elegantly on a high-backed chair by the marble island, was Pansy. Clad in a silky emerald robe that matched the glint in her eyes, she nibbled delicately on a cookie, her posture the very picture of poised nonchalance. Yet, the slight furrow in her brow and the restless tapping of her perfectly manicured nails against the porcelain plate betrayed her own unease.

Pansy looked up as Neville entered, her eyes widening slightly before she composed herself, lifting her chin in that familiar, regal manner. "Couldn't sleep either, I see," she remarked, her voice carrying a hint of mockery mixed with relief.

Neville offered a small, weary smile as he moved towards the kettle. "No, this place is... overwhelming," he admitted, filling the kettle with water and setting it to boil. "It's like living in a museum."

Pansy let out a dramatic sigh, swirling the remnants of milk in her glass before taking another sip. "Tell me about it. I've lived here my entire life, and even I can't find my way around half the time," she confessed, a touch of exaggeration coloring her tone.

Neville chuckled softly, the sound easing some of the tension between them. He joined her at the island, setting down two cups as the kettle began to whistle. "Mind if I join you?"

She gestured grandly to the seat beside her. "Be my guest. Misery loves company, after all."

As Neville poured the steaming water over the tea leaves, Pansy reached across the counter to slide the plate of cookies closer to him. "They're still warm. The elves must have just made them," she noted, taking another dainty bite.

Neville took a cookie, savoring the comforting taste of chocolate and butter. "These are incredible," he said, his eyes lighting up momentarily.

Pansy watched him with a soft smirk, her eyes reflecting a glimmer of shared understanding. After a moment of comfortable silence, she spoke again, her voice quieter and more contemplative. "I think we're in the same boat."

Neville looked up, meeting her gaze. There was a vulnerability there he hadn't expected, hidden beneath layers of bravado and elegance. He nodded slowly. "Yes, we are."

She toyed with the edge of her robe, her fingers betraying a nervousness her face refused to show. "Are we sinking?" she asked, her tone infused with a dramatic wistfulness, as though they were characters in a tragic play.

Neville considered her question, his eyes drifting around the opulent yet lonely kitchen. He took a sip of his tea before replying, his voice steady and reassuring. "Just adrift," he answered softly. "But maybe we can find our way together."

Pansy's lips curved into a small, genuine smile, a rare softness gracing her features. "Perhaps," she mused, her eyes never leaving his. "I suppose there are worse people to be lost at sea with."

He returned her smile, feeling a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the tea. "I could say the same."

They fell into a comfortable silence, the initial awkwardness between them easing into something warmer, more hopeful. The Manor, with all its intimidating grandeur, seemed a little less daunting in that moment. Sharing tea and cookies in the quiet of the night, Neville and Pansy found a small island of camaraderie amidst the vast sea of uncertainty that surrounded them.

As the night wore on, they talked about everything and nothing—trading stories of their Hogwarts days, their hopes, and their fears. Laughter mingled with earnest conversation, filling the empty spaces of the Manor with newfound life.

By the time the first light of dawn began to creep through the ornate windows, the distance between them had lessened considerably. They weren't just two strangers bound by circumstance anymore; they were companions, perhaps even friends, navigating uncharted waters together.

Pansy stretched elegantly, stifling a yawn as she rose from her seat. "I suppose we should attempt to sleep again," she suggested, her eyes brighter than before.

Neville nodded, standing as well. "Probably a good idea."

As they made their way back through the hushed corridors, side by side, the Manor around them seemed to settle, its earlier vibrations calming into a gentle hum, as if acknowledging the tentative bond forming between its residents.

Before they parted ways at their respective doors, Pansy turned to Neville, her expression thoughtful. "Thank you for the company," she said, her voice sincere.

He smiled warmly. "Anytime, Parky. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Neville," she replied, a soft smile lingering on her lips as she disappeared into her room.

 For the first time since arriving, Neville slipped into bed and felt at ease. The Manor was still enormous and unfamiliar, but he no longer felt quite so small within its walls. With thoughts of shared laughter and midnight conversations, he drifted off into a peaceful sleep, hopeful for what the next day would bring.