THE TOWER AND THE STAR - Pansy Neville (HP)

The day had arrived with an ominous heaviness in the air. It was the kind of day where the sky seemed darker than it should be, the atmosphere weighed down by something unseen, and the stillness of the air felt unnatural. Pansy had sensed it long before the floo call came through—something terrible was on the horizon. But nothing could have prepared her for the news.

The fireplace roared to life as Luna's frantic voice echoed from the flames, her usually dreamy demeanor shattered by panic and grief.

"Pansy! RON'S DEAD! OH GODS, PANSY, HE AND LAVENDER ARE DEAD!"

She froze. Her hand instinctively clenched the armrest of her chair as her heart skipped a beat. Dead? Her mind raced, trying to comprehend the words that had just come out of Luna's mouth.

"Oh Merlin…" she muttered under her breath, barely able to form the words. Her heart pounded in her chest as dread settled deep in her bones.

Luna's voice wavered, as though she was on the verge of tears. The usual serene, ethereal quality that always surrounded her had crumbled, replaced by a rawness that Pansy had rarely heard from her.

"It's—it's unfathomable… I can't—I don't know how this could happen, Pansy! They were both… both killed!" The disbelief in Luna's voice was heartbreaking.

Her mind swirled, barely able to process what she was hearing. Lavender and Ron… dead? Lavender, who always wore a smile, even if it was at someone else's expense. Ron, the stubborn, loud-mouthed fool, who was impossible to ignore, even if he'd been a bitter part of their lives for so long. Gone? Just like that?

"It's truly…" she began, but the words stuck in her throat. There was nothing she could say that would make sense of this. Nothing at all.

The call was short. Luna was too frantic, too broken to talk much more, and Pansy barely had the wherewithal to offer comfort.

As the flames flickered out, leaving her alone in the quiet of her living room, the silence became deafening. The weight of Luna's words hung in the air like a storm cloud. Everything around her seemed to crumble, but not because of Ron and Lavender's deaths—no, it was because of what Pansy knew.

The truth clawed at her insides like a beast trying to escape. She knew, deep down, who had done it. She knew exactly who was responsible. And for a brief, blinding moment, she wanted to scream. She wanted to run to Luna, fall at her feet, and tell her the truth. "You know, Luna? Your husband, your Theo—he and his psycho friends did it. They're the reason Ron and Lavender are dead."

The urge to snitch on Theo—to expose the dark underbelly of everything they were tangled in—was overwhelming. She could feel the words bubbling up, desperate to spill from her lips. But she couldn't do it. How could she? How could she shatter Luna's world like that? Luna, who was the kindest person she knew. Luna, who didn't have an ounce of cruelty in her body. Luna, who trusted Theo implicitly.

If she told her the truth, Luna's heart would break into a million pieces. And not just Luna's—Lysander's life would be changed forever too. He was still so young, so innocent. How could she be the one to rip their family apart?

No, she couldn't do it. She couldn't betray Theo, even though part of her screamed that she should. She loved Luna too much. She cared too deeply for their friendship, for the family Luna had built with Theo, for the life she had created for herself after everything.

So, Pansy stayed silent.

But the silence felt like a noose tightening around her throat, threatening to suffocate her. The guilt weighed on her, pressing down on her chest until she could barely breathe. She wanted to scream, to rage, to tear everything apart, but instead, she clenched her jaw and bottled it up. She had become a master of it over the years—keeping things inside, hiding the truth, burying her feelings beneath layers of sarcasm and sharp wit. But this was different. This wasn't just her past or her pain. This was someone else's life, someone else's heart.

She got up and paced the room, her thoughts spiraling. She knew what she should do, what the right thing was. But doing the right thing had never come easily to her. And in this case, the right thing would destroy so much more than just Theo's life—it would destroy Luna's too.

She collapsed onto the couch, her head falling into her hands as the weight of it all crashed down on her.

The knowledge of Theo's involvement burned inside her, searing her conscience like a brand. She replayed Theo's words over and over in her head: "Weasley has dirt on him. Much more sinister." The cryptic hints, the dark implications—it all made sense now. Theo had known this would happen. He had been part of the plan, the mission, whatever it was they were calling it. And now Ron and Lavender were dead.

Dead.

The image of Luna's face when she had heard the news haunted her. She had looked so broken, so lost. And for a brief moment, Pansy had wanted to tell her everything, to unburden herself of the horrible truth and let Luna decide what to do with it. But she hadn't. She couldn't.

Instead, she sat there, letting the guilt fester and grow, letting it eat away at her from the inside. She could feel it gnawing at her soul, a constant reminder of the lie she was living. Every time she saw Luna, every time she saw Theo, it would be there—lurking in the shadows, waiting to come to the surface.

But how long could she keep it inside?

How long could she pretend that everything was fine, that nothing was wrong? How long could she lie to Luna's face, knowing that she held the key to the truth?

Pansy stood up, pacing the room again, her thoughts racing. She didn't know what to do. She was trapped, caught between loyalty to her friends and the crushing weight of the truth.

And worst of all, she was beginning to wonder if she could ever truly escape from the darkness that had always seemed to follow her.

Selective transparency is not honesty.

And may the fire of who you are burn you alive until you are capable of standing in the fucking truth of it.

"Theodore, when the devil finally comes for you, you'll have countless sins to confess. I pray that your secrets remain hidden for the sake of your family," she declared, her voice firm yet trembling with emotion.

As she spoke, she felt a heaviness settle in her chest, like a weight that had been steadily accumulating over the years. She had never been particularly religious; the concept of faith had always felt distant and abstract to her. The rituals of prayer, the whispered hopes for salvation—these had been foreign to her world of magic and mayhem. Yet, at that moment, surrounded by the shadows of their shared burdens, she discovered a fierce determination that surged from deep within her.

If Muggles could believe in God, then so could she. The thought echoed in her mind, almost like a mantra, each repetition igniting a flicker of hope. She wanted to protect Luna's soul from the encroaching darkness, to shield her from the devastation that the truth could bring. Her heart ached at the thought of Luna's innocence being shattered, of the light in her eyes being extinguished by the weight of betrayal.

In the depths of her spirit, she felt a desperate longing for a higher power to intervene, to grant them a measure of safety amid the chaos that surrounded them. Her thoughts raced, contemplating the consequences of silence and the torment of honesty. The world they inhabited was fraught with peril, and she couldn't shake the feeling that it was all spiraling out of control.

She remembered Luna's laughter, her warmth, and the way she had embraced her quirks and flaws without judgment. Luna's joy was a rare treasure, and she would do anything to protect it, even if it meant grappling with the haunting secrets that threatened to pull them under. In her heart, she resolved to fight for Luna, to keep her safe from the demons lurking in the shadows of their lives.

As she gazed into the distance, she felt an unyielding determination rise within her. She would confront the darkness, even if it meant facing her own fears. She would be a shield for Luna, a guardian against the chaos that threatened to consume them both. For the first time, she found herself praying—not just for Luna, but for Theodore, for herself, and for the possibility of redemption in a world steeped in betrayal and violence.

In that moment of quiet resolve, she discovered a newfound strength. She might not have all the answers, nor could she see the path ahead clearly, but she knew one thing for certain: she would do whatever it took to protect the ones she loved, even if it meant embracing a faith she had never fully understood before.

But who was she kidding? When the devil finally came for her in her final days, she knew she would have countless sins to confess. The weight of her choices pressed down on her, suffocating and unrelenting. Being part of the dark side of the Sacred 28 wasn't just a title; it was a reality she couldn't escape. She had long been privy to the shady dealings and illicit activities that swirled around her like a storm, and that knowledge gnawed at her conscience. Every whispered conversation, every secret shared, added another layer to her guilt, another mark against her soul.

She glanced down at her hands, the very hands that had crafted poisons in the shadows of her ancestors' legacy. Each vial she mixed was a testament to her skill, but also a reminder of the darkness that lay within her. Making poison was not a light thing; it was a deliberate act that carried weight and consequence. Each concoction held the potential to end lives, to tear families apart, and she had embraced it all too willingly. She was far from an angel, and the closer she looked at her life, the more she saw the stains that marred her existence.

At least she could take solace in the fact that she wasn't a psychopath who killed for fun, like some of her so-called friends. They were different—cold and calculating, their laughter echoing with malice as they carried out their business. They always killed for profit, for power, but they were brutal when it came to family. Their ruthless code of conduct left no room for compassion or forgiveness. In that twisted world, loyalty often meant turning a blind eye to the horrors committed in the name of family ties.

She shuddered at the thought of what her friends were capable of. She had heard the rumors, the chilling stories whispered in dark corners, tales of betrayals and bloodshed that left her skin crawling.

The very idea of Draco being willing to kill Ron for Hermione sent waves of dread coursing through her. What had Ron done to provoke such a reaction? She had no idea what the Weasley was truly capable of, but if it had come to this—if Draco was ready to draw blood—it had to be something unforgivable, something that transcended the petty squabbles of their youth.

She knew, deep down, that she had to confront her demons, not just for herself but for Luna, for Neville, and for the fragile peace they all sought to maintain. The darkness around her felt suffocating, closing in like a noose. She took a deep breath, steeling herself against the rising tide of despair. She couldn't keep living in the shadows, knowing that her past was stained with complicity in the sins of her friends and family.

If she was ever going to find redemption, it would require more than just a silent acceptance of her fate. She had to make a choice: to continue down the path laid out for her by those who revealed in chaos, or to stand up and carve a new path—one where she could perhaps be the light for someone else, even if that light was flickering and fragile.

Her heart raced as she contemplated the cost of her silence. If she remained complicit, she would forever be tied to their bloodshed. But speaking out meant risking everything, including her relationships with those she cared for. It was a treacherous balance, and the stakes had never felt higher.

As she stared into the void, she vowed to confront her past and fight against the darkness that threatened to swallow her whole. It would be a battle, one that would test her resolve and challenge everything she believed about herself. But for the sake of those she loved and the haunting echoes of the choices that had brought her to this moment, she was ready to embrace whatever came next, even if it meant facing the devil himself.

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

She stood in the living room, her heart racing as Neville entered their home, exhaustion etched on his face from a long day at work. She could tell he was looking forward to a quiet evening, perhaps some light banter and a comforting meal. But today, she had something weighty on her mind, a secret that weighed more heavily than she had anticipated.

"Neville, my love," she said, her voice steady but her heart pounding. "Please, have a seat. I need to tell you something important."

He raised an eyebrow, concern flickering in his green eyes. "Oh Merlin, what is it?"

She took a deep breath, the words feeling like lead in her throat. "Ron and Lavender are dead."

His face drained of color, and he seemed to freeze in place, the weight of her words settling in the air between them like a thick fog. He struggled to find his voice, staring blankly at the table as if it held the answers he sought.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured, reaching out to touch his hand.

He didn't respond, lost in his thoughts. The silence stretched on, each second feeling like an eternity. Finally, he blinked, a flicker of shock crossing his face. "What happened?"

"It was… it was Fyndfire," she said, the name rolling off her tongue like poison.

His eyes widened in horror. "Pansy, that is cursed magic."

"I'm aware, darling," she replied softly, her heart aching for him. "But it happened."

"That's absolutely horrible," he breathed, his voice low and heavy. "How did it happen?"

She hesitated, knowing the truth but unable to share the details that would unravel everything. The connection to Draco, to the dark undercurrents she had grown accustomed to navigating in her life, felt like a razor's edge. She could feel Neville's anguish, and for a fleeting moment, she thought about confessing everything—the intricate web of secrets that had spun around her, the choices that led to this tragedy. But the thought of implicating Draco sent a shiver down her spine.

"Honestly, I don't know," she finally said, her voice trembling slightly. "All I know is that it's terrible. People are saying it was some sort of accident, but it doesn't feel right to me."

He nodded, though his expression remained troubled. "I can't believe it. Ron… he wasn't perfect, but he didn't deserve this."

Pansy swallowed hard, her heart a tumult of emotions. "No one deserves to die like that," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But you have to understand… things can get messy, and not everyone plays fair."

He looked at her, confusion mingling with worry. "What do you mean?"

She took a deep breath, realizing this conversation was veering into dangerous territory. "It's just… you know how things were. The Weasleys have been entangled in things they shouldn't have been. Ron wasn't just a victim; he was part of a world that didn't care about right or wrong."

He frowned, and Pansy could see the gears turning in his mind. "You're talking about the dark side of our world, Pansy. Are you saying Ron was involved in something… sinister?"

She hesitated, knowing that the truth could fracture the fragile trust they had built. "I don't know all the details, love. But there are forces at play that we don't fully understand. And while it's tragic, sometimes… sometimes people's pasts catch up with them."

He shook his head, as if trying to dismiss the idea. "That's not fair. He was Hermione's friend, and Lavender… they didn't deserve this fate. It just feels so… random."

"Randomness is a luxury in our world," she replied, a cold edge to her voice. "People like us are often caught in the crossfire of a war we didn't choose."

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident on his face. "But what can we do? We can't just stand by while this happens."

"I know," she said, her voice softening as she gazed into his eyes, trying to convey the gravity of their situation. "But we have to be careful. We can't make enemies of the wrong people, or we'll end up like Ron and Lavender."

He shook his head, his brow furrowing with determination. "We would never end up like that, Parky. You know that, right?"

She sighed, feeling a wave of anxiety wash over her. "I know, love… it's just so hard to imagine dying like that, in such a horrific manner. It feels so… random, so senseless."

He leaned forward, his expression earnest. "Pansy, listen to me. We're not in that world anymore. We've built a life together—a safe one. I have many protection charms around the mansion."

Her heart fluttered at his reassurance, yet a knot of worry still twisted in her stomach. "I know my love," she chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. "I made even more after we got married. Why did you do it?"

Neville smiled, a hint of shyness coloring his cheeks. "The moment I realized I loved you, I researched even more and put multiple spells around the house. I wanted you to feel safe here, to know that you're protected."

Her heart swelled with affection. "Good," she said, her voice steadying as she took his hands in hers. "I did just the same. The last thing I want is for you to worry about anything happening to us."

He chuckled, a warm sound that eased some of the tension. "You've always been resourceful. It's one of the things I love about you."

As they sat together, Pansy felt a sense of warmth envelop them. "But it's not just about spells and charms, is it?" she said thoughtfully, her mind racing with the implications of their conversation. "There's a darkness lurking out there, Neville. We can't pretend it doesn't exist."

His expression shifted from light-heartedness to seriousness. "I know that too. It's just… it feels like we're finally on the right path after everything we've been through. I don't want to lose sight of that."

She nodded, her heart aching with the weight of their shared experiences. "We've fought hard for this life, and I refuse to let fear take it away from us. But I can't shake the feeling that something is coming. We need to stay vigilant."

He squeezed her hands, his grip firm and reassuring. "We will be vigilant. Together. You and me against the world, remember?"

She smiled, feeling a flicker of hope ignite within her. "Always. But promise me, if something feels off, we'll talk about it. No secrets. No hiding."

Liar.

"I promise," Neville said, his eyes sincere. "You can trust me, my love. I'm in this for the long haul, no matter what challenges we face."

She leaned in, resting her forehead against his, their breaths mingling in the quiet of their living room. "I love you, Nevis. More than anything."

"And I love you."

But as they shared that moment of intimacy, she couldn't shake the nagging worry that lingered in her mind. The world around them might have been quiet for now, but she knew the darkness they had faced was never truly gone. It waited in the shadows, ready to pounce when they least expected it.

Suddenly, the sound of Lady Lemongrass padding softly across the floor broke the silence, bringing a smile to both their faces. "Look at her, always trying to steal the show," Pansy said, her tone lightening.

Neville chuckled, glancing down at their pug. "It seems even she knows we need some levity."

"Of course she does," Pansy said, her heart lifting. "She's our little guardian angel."

But as she watched Lady Lemongrass chase her own tail, her mind wandered back to the chilling news of Ron and Lavender's deaths. The little pug's clumsy antics brought a fleeting smile to her face, but it quickly faded as the weight of reality settled back in. Pansy knew all too well how fragile the peace they had crafted together was, and a cold shiver ran down her spine at the thought of what had transpired. Ron and Lavender's demise was not just a tragedy; it was a stark reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

She sighed, glancing at him, who was still engrossed in their earlier conversation about protection charms and safety measures. He radiated an aura of calm and reassurance, yet deep down, she felt a gnawing sense of unease. Despite the precautions they had taken, she couldn't shake the feeling that the shadows were closing in, inching ever closer, eager to disrupt their hard-won happiness.

In the midst of her thoughts, she forced herself to focus on the present. There was no one who could harm them, she reminded herself. They were part of a family—a big, intricate mafia family, one that had weathered storms and overcome insurmountable odds. Their

connections and influence shielded them, but it wasn't just that. They had fought tooth and nail to build a life free from the chaos that had once consumed them.

But even within that web of protection, Pansy recognized a stark truth: the only person who Neville should genuinely fear was her. The very thought sent a shiver down her spine. She wasn't just a wife or a partner in their lives together; she was deeply entrenched in the undercurrents of darkness that flowed through their family. The power she wielded was intoxicating, and she was aware that her ties to the darker side of their world ran deeper than she cared to admit.

The weight of her choices pressed down on her as she recalled the secrets she had kept, the shadows of her past that she had carried with her like a heavy cloak. The poison she concocted was not merely a tool; it was a symbol of her complicity in a world where moral boundaries often blurred. While she was not a cold-blooded killer, she understood the brutal reality that her friends and allies lived by—a reality that had become all too familiar.

As her thoughts spiraled, she glanced back at Lady, who had finally caught her tail and was now triumphantly prancing around in circles, oblivious to the darkness that loomed outside their cozy haven. Pansy couldn't help but feel a pang of envy at the pug's simplicity. Lady's world was uncomplicated; her only concern was the joy of the chase. In contrast, hee mind was consumed with the looming threats, the fractured alliances, and the unyielding secrets that tied her to a life she both loved and loathed.

Taking a deep breath, she resolved to speak with him again. They needed to confront the reality of their situation, to fortify their defenses and protect what they had built together. "I won't let anything happen to us," she whispered to herself, determination flickering within her like a flame against the encroaching darkness.

With renewed resolve, she rose from her seat, feeling the weight of her choices settling on her shoulders. She would stand by Neville, fight for their safety, and do whatever it took to keep their lives intact. The shadows may be drawing closer, but she was not afraid. She had the power to shape their destiny, and as long as she was there to protect him, they would remain unbroken.