THE TOWER AND THE STAR - Pansy Neville (HP)

Becoming friends with Luna Lovegood had been an unexpected twist in Pansy's life—one she had never seen coming. At first, she viewed Luna with suspicion. How could anyone be so untouched by the world's sharp edges, so whimsical, so free of cynicism? Pansy, who had spent years armoring herself against the harshness of reality, couldn't understand it. Luna floated through life as if the world couldn't weigh her down, a stark contrast to Pansy, who was all sharp edges and guarded heart.

At first, she approached their interactions like a chess match, her defenses up, waiting for Luna to show her true colors. But Luna never faltered. Instead, she greeted her sarcasm with a laugh, her odd remarks about creatures like Wrackspurts and Nargles met with genuine enthusiasm, not mockery. Luna's acceptance was disarming, and she soon realized that Luna wasn't playing any games—she simply existed in a state of perpetual openness. Slowly, like water wearing away at stone, Luna's warmth began to melt the walls Pansy had so carefully built.

Weeks turned into months, and the time they spent together became a lifeline for her, though she would never admit it out loud. Afternoons once spent alone, consumed by her thoughts, were now shared with Luna over cups of tea in a quiet corner of the manor or wandering through enchanted gardens. Pansy found herself looking forward to those moments of reprieve. Luna's stories of magical creatures and unseen wonders, which once seemed absurd, became a kind of comfort. She had always scoffed at anything that didn't have a firm grip on reality, but Luna's whimsical world provided a respite from the harshness of her own.

Luna's presence was calming, like a soothing balm over old wounds. Where her instinct was to snap and protect, Luna simply listened, never judging or trying to change her. There was a stillness about Luna that allowed her to relax in ways she hadn't thought possible. PShe found herself laughing more, her sharp wit met with Luna's soft chuckles. It was a give and take, a delicate balance where their differences didn't clash but instead complemented each other. She had never allowed anyone to get close enough to see the vulnerable parts of her, but with Luna, there was no need to hide.

In time, what started as an unexpected friendship turned into something much deeper. Luna became the one person Pansy could confide in. They shared secrets, dreams, and fears. Luna, with her otherworldly grace, never recoiled from Pansy's bluntness or the shadows in her past. And Pansy, for the first time in her life, found herself opening up. She began to share more of herself—her worries, her hopes, even the softer, hidden parts of her heart that she kept buried .

Late at night, after spending hours in Luna's company, Pansy would sit alone in her room, reflecting on how much her life had changed. She had spent years cultivating an image—Pansy Parkinson, the sharp-tongued, impenetrable Slytherin, who let no one close. Yet somehow, Luna had slipped through the cracks, not by force, but by simply being herself. Pansy marveled at how effortlessly Luna had become her best friend, the one person who saw her for who she truly was and still wanted to stay.

With Luna, Pansy felt a freedom she had never known. She didn't have to wear a mask or play a role. She didn't have to be on guard every second, ready to bite back at any perceived slight. Luna's quiet acceptance made her feel safe, like she could breathe for the first time in years. It was strange and wonderful all at once, this feeling of belonging. Luna never expected anything from her, never pushed her to be someone she wasn't. She simply allowed her to exist, flaws and all.

And for that, she was grateful in ways words could never fully capture. Luna had not just become her friend—she had become her anchor, the steady presence that kept her grounded even when life felt like it was spinning out of control. Together, they had built something that Pansy had never thought she would find: a true, unbreakable friendship that felt more like family.

She smiled to herself, thinking of all the afternoons they spent together, Luna's dreamy voice filling the air with tales of far-off places and creatures no one else could see. She realized, with a kind of quiet awe, that she wouldn't trade their friendship for anything. In Luna, she had found something precious—something she hadn't even known she was missing until it was right in front of her. She had found a friend, a confidante, a sister in all but blood.

It was strange, she mused, how life had a way of giving you exactly what you needed when you least expected it. Luna Lovegood had walked into her life like a breath of fresh air, and she was finally beginning to understand that maybe, just maybe, she deserved that kind of light.

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

Neville stepped into the room, his eyes landing on her, who was meticulously organizing Lady Lemongrass's closet, filled with tiny outfits and accessories. He smiled at the sight.

"Hello, darling," he greeted, his voice warm.

Pansy looked up, a small smile playing on her lips. "Hello sweetie, how was work?"

He crossed the room and leaned against the doorframe, watching her. "I missed you," he admitted, his tone soft but sincere.

Pansy chuckled lightly, glancing at Lady Lemongrass who was lounging nearby. "Oh, so did we," she replied, the affection in her voice clear.

He moved closer, reaching out to gently touch her arm. "We?" he teased, raising an eyebrow.

She shrugged playfully. "Well, it's not just Lady who enjoys your company," she said, smirking as she resumed her organizing.

He stepped closer, his eyes softening as he looked at her. Without saying a word, he cupped her face gently and leaned in, pressing his lips to hers in a slow, lingering kiss. It was the first time since their wedding that they had shared such a tender moment. 

She melted into the kiss, her hands coming up to rest on his chest. The world around them seemed to fade away as they savored the intimacy of the moment, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down her spine. 

His hands found their way to her hips, gently pulling her closer to him as he smiled. "Were you a good girl today?" he asked, his voice a low murmur.

She felt her cheeks warm, a rare blush coloring her usually composed expression. "I hope I was," she replied softly, glancing up at him.

Neville chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Did you have fun with Luna?"

Her face lit up a little. "Oh, she's pregnant."

His eyes widened with genuine happiness. "That's amazing, darling. I'm so happy for them."

She nodded, but then rolled her eyes dramatically. "Theo is an absolute maniac, though. So possessive, it's insane."

Neville's smile grew as he held her even closer, his hand sliding up her back. "Sounds like Theo. But as long as they're okay with it, that's what matters," he said, his voice a soothing balm against her ear.

He, feeling a surge of affection, gently pulled her down so that she was sitting on his lap, facing him. The sudden closeness made her catch her breath, her hands instinctively resting on his shoulders.

He held her gently, his hands slowly slipping up on her thighs to keep her steady. Their eyes met, and he smiled softly. "This feels better, doesn't it?" he asked, his voice warm.

She nodded, her cheeks flushing slightly at their closeness. She could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, which brought her a surprising sense of comfort and safety.

Leaning in, she rested her forehead against his and whispered, "Much better."

He scooped her up in his arms and lifted her on the table. As he kissed her neck and earlobes, he could feel her body trembling with anticipation. He then moved down to her breasts, licking and caressing her nipples until they were hard and sensitive.

He guided his fingers to her clit, gently rubbing and pinching it. She let out a soft moan as he slipped a finger inside her, then two. He could feel her getting wetter and wetter, and he knew she was ready for more.

He looked into her eyes with a soft smile. "Be a good girl for me and tell me about your day," he asked.

She hesitated, her cheeks still flushed. "Not… nothing special," she replied, her voice quiet.

He continued to hold her open, his tone encouraging. "Tell me more."

Pansy shifted a bit, feeling a mix of emotions. "My love, please, I… I just want to…"

Suddenly, he stood up, his face serious. He pointed at her and said firmly, "Don't ever say that without meaning it!" Then, without another word, he walked briskly to his room.

She was left sitting there, stunned and confused. She didn't understand what had just happened. She hadn't done anything wrong—she had simply been herself. Feeling a mix of frustration and hurt, she muttered to herself, "What did I do? I didn't do anything wrong. I was just being a good girl. 

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

 His mind was a whirlwind of emotions as he tried to process the situation. The words—"My love"—had slipped from her lips, so effortlessly, so casually, and yet, they had struck him like a bolt of lightning. Neville couldn't shake the way it echoed in his thoughts, over and over, until it felt like it was reverberating in his very bones.

He tried to rationalize it, pacing his room with a restless energy that refused to subside. Maybe it had just been a slip of the tongue, an accident. But what if it wasn't? What if she had meant it? What if, beneath her sharp wit and cool demeanor, she actually felt something for him?

The thought both thrilled and terrified him. Could Pansy really love him? The woman who seemed to take pleasure in pushing his buttons, who kept her emotions so tightly guarded, who had never once allowed herself to be vulnerable with him—could she really feel that way about him?

Frustration gnawed at him. If she did love him, why hadn't she said it? Why did she let it slip so easily, like it was nothing? Was it nothing? The uncertainty was driving him mad.

Unable to stand it any longer, he stormed through the manor, his heart pounding in his chest as he made his way to her room. His fists clenched at his sides as a flood of questions raced through his mind. He couldn't stand the silence between them, the way she had brushed it off like it was nothing.

"Is it true?" he demanded, his voice firm but quivering slightly.

Pansy turned, confused. "What?"

"Do you love me?" His voice softened, though the intensity in his eyes remained. "Is it true?"

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She blinked at him, unsure of how to respond, unsure of what he wanted to hear.

"I asked you something, princess" he pressed, his voice growing more desperate, more insistent. "Do. You. Love. Me? You're playing with my heart." He stepped closer, his voice lowering, almost pleading. "So I'll ask again. Do you love me?"

Pansy froze, her breath catching in her throat as she stared at him, wide-eyed, unable to answer.

He looked at her for a moment longer, his expression a mixture of disappointment and resignation. "Find me when you have a proper answer."

She muttered under her breath, "He's mental," before quickly apparating to Luna's living room, landing right in the middle of the cozy space.

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

"Lunaaa, I need your help," Pansy announced, her voice still tinged with frustration from her confrontation with Neville.

Luna, ever the free spirit, emerged from the other room — naked, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Pansy's eyes widened for a second before a smirk tugged at her lips. "All that for me? What a… lovely welcome," she quipped sarcastically, but Luna's serenity softened the edge in her voice.

She giggled, utterly unbothered. "Oh, Pans. I'm planing to fuck my husband, but, how can I help you?"

Pansy muttered under her breath, "He's mental," before storming out of her room and apparating straight to Luna's cozy, whimsical living room. The moment her feet touched the floor, she let out a huff, her mind racing, emotions bubbling over like a cauldron set to boil.

She sighed, her usual biting remarks feeling heavy and unnecessary in the face of Luna's ever-present calmness. She slumped into one of Luna's plush armchairs, running her hands through her hair. "I think Neville's going to drive me mad," she confessed, her voice laced with exasperation. "I mean, more mad than I already am. I think I'm losing it."

Luna floated across the room, finally slipping on a robe, though she didn't seem to mind either way. She sat across from Pansy, her big blue eyes blinking slowly, full of compassion. "What's he done now?" she asked, as if she were talking about a mischievous child, not the man who had just stormed out of Pansy's life demanding answers she wasn't sure she could give.

She folded her arms tightly around herself, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve, something she never did—she was usually too proud to show nerves. "He barged into my room and asked—no, demanded—if I loved him," she said, voice cracking slightly as she replayed the moment in her head. "I didn't know what to say. I froze. And now… now he thinks I don't care at all, and I'm just—what the hell do I even do with this?"

Luna tilted her head thoughtfully, her fingers delicately tracing the air as though she could capture Pansy's emotions and examine them. "Well, do you love him?" she asked softly.

She scoffed, leaning back in the chair, trying to bury her feelings under layers of sarcasm. "I don't know, maybe? I mean, what does that even feel like? Shouldn't I just know?"

Luna gave her a knowing smile, like she had seen this all before. "Love's not always something you know immediately, Pans. Sometimes it's subtle. It's not fireworks or grand revelations. For me, it was like a warm breeze," she said dreamily, her voice lilting as though she were reciting poetry. "One day, I just looked at Theo, and it felt… right. I didn't question it. I simply knew."

She stared at her, slightly incredulous. "A warm breeze?" she repeated, her voice cracking with disbelief. "You think I'm going to figure this out with a metaphor about the weather?"

Luna let out a small laugh, not mocking, but gentle. She moved closer, kneeling in front of Pansy, reaching out to take her hands. "You're overthinking it. Love isn't always some epic, heart-stopping moment. It's in the little things. It's in how safe someone makes you feel, how their presence just feels… right. Do you feel that way with Neville?"

She looked away, blinking rapidly as her mind swirled with images—his nervous yet charming smile, the way he always touched her like she might break, how he tried to make her laugh even when she was trying to stay annoyed with him. And Merlin, the way his eyes softened whenever he looked at her, like she was something precious, something to be treasured.

She felt her chest tighten. "I don't know," she admitted, her voice quieter now. "I… maybe I do. But I've never done this before. I don't know how to say it, how to make it… real."

Luna squeezed her hands gently, her smile unwavering. "You don't have to have all the answers, Pans. Love isn't about having everything figured out. You just have to feel it. And I think, deep down, you already do."

Pansy's lip trembled, and she let out a frustrated sigh, her usual sharp demeanor crumbling slightly in the face of Luna's kindness. "I just… I don't want him to break my heart, Luna. What if I say it, and then… I lose everything?"

Luna tilted her head, her eyes full of warmth and understanding. "If anyone can love you without hurting you, it's Neville. But you have to let him. You have to let go of the fear and let him in."

She swallowed hard, her throat tight as she fought back the urge to cry. She hated feeling vulnerable, hated the idea that she might lose control, that someone could hurt her like that. But she also knew that Luna was right. Somewhere, deep down, she had already let Neville in. She just didn't know how to tell him.

Pansy let out a small chuckle through the lump in her throat. "Who would've thought we'd become friends?" she mused, shaking her head. "You, of all people."

She shrugged with a serene smile. "The universe works in mysterious ways."

Pansy sighed, realizing for the first time just how much Neville had started to mean to her. "Thanks."

Luna smiled again, serene and knowing. "Anytime, babe. Now, please fuck off."

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

When Neville came home from work, the atmosphere in the manor was thick with unspoken tension. He sat down at the grand dining table, his movements slow, uncertain, as if the weight of the past few days had settled into his bones. They hadn't exchanged more than a few curt words in what felt like an eternity. Pansy had been avoiding him, slipping into rooms the moment he entered, finding reasons to be anywhere he wasn't.

As he began to idly push his food around, the silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the clinking of his fork against the plate.

Then, to his surprise, he heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching. He looked up, and there she was—Pansy. Her expression was guarded, but she wasn't retreating this time. Slowly, she sat down across from him, her fingers nervously playing with the edge of her napkin, a small gesture that seemed so unlike her usual composed self.

For the first time in what felt like forever, they were sharing a space—sharing a moment—together.

He leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. "Princess, gracing me with your presence? What have I done to deserve this honor?" His voice dripped with mockery, the tension still simmering beneath the surface.

She shot him a sharp look, her lips pressing into a thin line. She wasn't in the mood for games. "Let's get married," she said, her voice cool and direct.

He blinked, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. "We are already married, Parky," he said, leaning forward slightly. "Did you hit your head or something?"

Pansy's nostrils flared as she stood, her dramatic flair on full display. "A real one," she demanded, sweeping her arm through the air. "Guests. Flowers. Friends. I want that."

He stared at her, bewildered. "So… you want to throw a party?" He asked cautiously.

"Yes," she snapped, folding her arms.

"We can host a party anytime you want. You know that," he replied, his tone softening a bit. "But we don't have to pretend."

She glared at him, her body tensing as she prepared for the confession that had been building inside her for days. "We won't pretend."

Neville frowned, clearly lost. "I'm not sure I'm following your delusional mind, sassy," he said, with a slight smirk, hoping to lighten the moment.

But she had reached her breaking point. With a dramatic flourish, she shoved her chair back and shot to her feet, her voice rising with emotion. "I LOVE YOU!" she practically shouted, throwing her hands in the air. "SO IT'S A REAL WEDDING. DON'T YOU DARE MOCK ME!"

Neville sat, stunned, as she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, her exit as grand and theatrical as her declaration. The sound of her footsteps echoed through the manor as she disappeared, leaving him sitting in stunned silence, unsure whether to laugh, follow her, or just let her have her dramatic moment.

He followed her to the bedroom, his heart racing as he gently pushed open the door. The sound of her soft sobs filled the room, each one tugging at him. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her face buried in her hands, crying hysterically.

He approached her slowly, his footsteps careful and measured. He reached out, but before he could touch her, she jerked back.

"Don't touch me," she snapped, her voice shaky, but fierce.

Neville's eyes softened. "I'm going to kiss you now," he said quietly, determined.

She looked up at him, her tear-streaked face glowing in the dim light, her lips trembling. "Do you love me, Longbottom?" she spat, her voice dripping with pain and disbelief. "Is that why you're playing your idiotic mind games?"

He knelt in front of her, lifting her chin so she had no choice but to meet his gaze. "I do," he whispered.

Her chest heaved as more tears fell. "Why?" she demanded, her voice breaking.

His gaze softened further as he leaned in, his forehead gently pressing against hers. "Because you're you, Parky," he whispered. "Flawed, dramatic, sharp-tongued, and maddening. But you make everything feel... alive. You make me feel alive. How could I not love you?"

Her breath hitched, and for the first time, she was left speechless.

Neville knelt in front of her, his heart racing as he searched for the right words. He reached for her trembling hands, his touch gentle but firm.

"Pansy," he started, his voice soft but filled with determination. "I love you. I love your sass, the way you challenge me at every turn. You're smart—brilliant, really—and you make me see the world differently every single day. You're funny, even when you're driving me mad. And yeah, you're dramatic, but I love that about you too."

Pansy blinked, her tears still falling, but she was listening, her sharp eyes locked onto his.

"You know what else? Every time you kiss me, it feels like you're healing me a little more. Every time. I don't even know if you realize it, but you do. I've never felt so…alive, so aware of everything around me, until you barged into my life with all your fire and your demands."

His grip tightened slightly, his thumbs brushing over her knuckles. "You think you're hard to love, but you're not. You're the most real person I've ever met. And I love every single part of you—the messy, the fierce, the fragile, the beautiful. I love you, Pansy. Every bit of you."

Her lips quivered, and for the first time in a long while, she was speechless. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers, his breath warm and steady. "I'm not playing mind games. I'm not going anywhere. I just need you to believe it."

He looked at her, his voice steady but filled with vulnerability. "So, I'm going to ask you the same question, Pansy. Do you truly love me?"

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes flickering with uncertainty, but then she whispered, "…Yes."

He smiled softly, but pressed further, "Can you tell me why?"

Before she could respond, Lady Lemongrass waddled into the room, her little snorts announcing her presence. She looked at her "parents" sharing a tender moment and, true to her nature, decided to insert herself right in the middle of it.

Pansy, in a mix of exasperation and amusement, pointed to the dog. "That's why!" she said dramatically, her voice rising with emotion. "You brought this ugly, snorting little creature into my life because you knew. You knew I was lonely, and you gave me her to keep me company."

He chuckled softly, watching Lady Lemongrass make herself comfortable between them, her large eyes staring up at Pansy as if she knew she was being talked about.

Her voice softened, her eyes welling with emotion again. "You're the only man who's ever shown me real, genuine love. You see me—all of me—and you love me anyway. You didn't just bring a dog into my life, Nevie. You brought love, you brought companionship… you brought yourself. No one's ever done that for me before."

She looked down at Lady Lemongrass, then back at Neville, her voice cracking. "You made me believe that I'm worth something more than just being someone's wife. That's why I love you."

Neville, with a smile full of warmth and understanding, leaned in and gently kissed her forehead. "I knew it all along."

She looked up at him, her voice trembling. "How could you possibly know?"

He smiled softly, stepping closer. "Because you show me every day, in your own way. You send me lunch when I forget, leave little notes even when you pretend they don't mean anything. You notice when I'm not okay, when I'm struggling, and you do something about it—even when you act like you don't care."

He gently took her hands, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "You're not great at showing your emotions, but you try. And that's what matters. Will you try a little more? Show me what you're feeling? I promise you, Pansy, I'll never hurt your heart. Not ever."

Her breath hitched, and she whispered, "Bit by bit… I'll try."

His gaze softened even more, his voice a quiet plea. "Can I kiss you now?"

She nodded, her heart pounding, and as soon as their lips met, the tension dissolved into a deep, passionate kiss—one that spoke of all the unsaid emotions finally finding their way to the surface.