THE TOWER AND THE STAR - Pansy Neville (HP)

TW: mention of overdose attempt

Pansy was in the middle of her nighttime routine, her face adorned with a hydrating mask and her fingers expertly applying layers of serums. The soft glow of candles lit her room, casting a serene ambiance, but that calm shattered in an instant.

Suddenly, the fireplace roared to life, the emerald flames flickering violently as Draco's frantic voice broke through the silence. His cries were raw, desperate.

"Gods, Pansy, please help me! Hermione—she tried to—she tried to take her life! My everything... Oh, my lord, Pansy, please, come to St. Mungo's!"

The panic in Draco's voice struck her like a physical blow. Her heart raced, and without a second thought, she ripped the face mask off, barely noticing the sting of her skin. "I'm coming!" she shouted back, her voice resolute, her hands already moving with swift precision.

With a flick of her wand, her comfortable silk robe transfigured into proper attire, but there was no time to check herself in the mirror. She rushed to the fireplace, her mind swirling with fear and disbelief. Hermione—what could have driven her to such darkness?

Before the shock could fully settle, she stepped into the emerald flames, her heart thundering in her chest as she was swept away to the sterile halls of St. Mungo's, her only thought being to reach Draco and Hermione as fast as possible.

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

Malfoy had faced countless dangers in his life—he had survived a war, witnessed friends fall, and bore the weight of blood on his own hands. But nothing, absolutely nothing, had prepared him for this. The steady crackle of the fire in the hearth did little to soothe the storm brewing within him. His normally composed exterior had shattered completely, leaving him pacing the grand living room with short, sharp strides. Each footfall echoed ominously, a reminder of the chaos that swirled within his mind. His breathing was ragged, uneven, his chest tightening with every agonizing thought.

The memory of Hermione's lifeless form on the floor, the empty potion bottles scattered around her, was burned into his brain. He had found her just in time, but the sight of her—so fragile, so utterly broken—had carved a new scar into his already damaged soul. The air in the manor was suffocating, as if the very walls were closing in on him. He couldn't stop replaying the scene in his head, couldn't escape the what-ifs that haunted his every step.

When she arrived at St. Mungo's, she barely had time to catch her breath as Theo apparated beside her just seconds earlier.

"Draco, what happened?" she asked, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to sound composed. The fear she was trying to suppress slipped through in the way her eyes darted over Draco's distraught expression.

Draco swallowed, his throat tight and dry. "It's bad," he murmured, his voice cracking under the weight of the truth. "Hermione—she tried to overdose on calming potions."

For a moment, she stood frozen, her blood running cold. The color drained from her face, her eyes widening in shock. Beside her, Theo stiffened, his usual composed demeanor unraveling as he took in the gravity of Draco's words.

"Bloody hell," Theo breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. His tall frame seemed to sag under the weight of the revelation. "Is she—?"

"She's alive," he interrupted, though his voice wavered, thick with emotion. "But just barely. They said if I hadn't found her when I did..." His voice trailed off, unable to finish, the horror of what could have been lingering unspoken between them.

The air grew heavy with the tension of near loss, the weight of it pressing down on all of them.

Draco looked at them both, his eyes filled with desperation. "Please... I need you both to go to the penthouse and collect our things—everything. We're moving back to her cottage. It's the only place where she might feel safe again."

Without hesitation, Pansy and Theo responded in unison, their voices firm despite the turmoil swirling inside. "Of course, Draco. Anything for her."

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

They wasted no time as they Flooed back to their shared penthouse. Her heels clicked sharply against the floor as she moved with purpose, her mind racing with the gravity of the situation. "You know, Draco's always been tough, but this… this is different," she muttered, more to herself than Theo.

Theo, who was already gathering a few things they might need, paused and glanced at her. "He's scared. And if anyone knows what it's like to hide fear behind control, it's him."

She let out a sharp breath. "Yeah, but Hermione… she's strong too. The strongest of us all in a lot of ways. It's just… people like that, they crack sometimes. The pressure builds until—"

"Until it all comes crashing down," Theo finished quietly.

She nodded, grabbing a small pile of Hermione's favorite blankets, ones she had given her after the war. "Come on, we have work to do."

With swift efficiency, they packed up everything that might bring Hermione comfort—her books, her writing supplies, the few personal items she had brought with her to the manor after the forced marriage. Everything had to be perfect. They couldn't afford to leave anything behind that might help Draco bring her back from the brink.

As they moved through the penthouse, she knelt down and opened the carrier for Hermione's cat, Crookshanks, who had been sitting on the windowsill, blissfully unaware of the chaos surrounding him. The ginger half-Kneazle padded over to Pansy, rubbing his head against her leg in a lazy greeting. "Come on, beast," she murmured, gently lifting him into the carrier. "You're coming with us."

Theo, now carrying several enchanted bags filled with Hermione's things, glanced over at her. "Think we have everything?"

"Everything that matters," she said, closing the door behind her as they headed for the Floo once more.

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

Hermione's cottage had once been her sanctuary. It was nestled in a quiet, secluded area just outside the village of Ottery St. Catchpole, where the sounds of everyday life faded into the background, replaced by the gentle rustling of trees and the distant hum of nature. It had been the one place she'd felt entirely in control of her life, the one place untouched by the complexities of war or politics.

Theo and Pansy Apparated to the front door, and immediately, Pansy set to work. "This place needs to feel like home again," she said, her voice firm.

Theo nodded, taking in the modest cottage. It was charming, with ivy growing along the stone walls and a wooden door that had clearly seen better days. It was worlds away from the grandeur of his Manor, but it was cozy, intimate—everything Hermione needed right now.

They moved quickly, transforming the space with a careful touch. She meticulously placed her belongings around the cottage, making sure everything was exactly how she would remember it. Theo cleaned the place with a few quick spells, tidying up the dust that had settled during her time away. Crookshanks, now free from his carrier, wandered lazily through the house, occasionally rubbing against a chair leg or curling up in his favorite spot near the fireplace.

She paused in the middle of setting up Hermione's favorite books on the shelf and looked around. The cottage was warm again, like it had been before the weight of the world had settled onto Hermione's shoulders. She glanced at Theo, who had just finished setting the table with fresh flowers and tea. "It feels like her, doesn't it?"

Theo nodded slowly. "It does. I hope it's enough."

She exhaled softly, a rare moment of vulnerability slipping through her composed exterior. "It has to be. She's done so much for us... we have to help her find herself again."

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

Draco arrived just as the sun began to set, his heart heavy but his mind determined. The cottage looked exactly as he remembered it—the small garden, the stone path leading to the front door, the soft glow of light inside. It was simple but welcoming, just as it had always been.

Pansy greeted him at the door with a quiet nod. "Everything's ready."

"How is she?" Theo asked quietly, his brow furrowed with concern.

"She's... tired. She'll be home soon," Draco replied, his voice raw but steady.

She crossed her arms, her eyes softening as she glanced at Draco. "She's strong, Draco. She's going to come through this."

"I know," he said, though the doubt still lingered at the edges of his mind. "I just… I just need to make sure she's okay. I need her to know she's not alone."

"And she won't be," Theo added firmly. "You have us. She has us."

Draco's gaze swept the cottage, taking in all the small touches they had made. The place felt warm, welcoming—exactly what Hermione needed. He nodded in appreciation. "Thank you. Both of you."

She smiled softly, placing a hand on Draco's arm. "We're all in this together, darling. Now go and take care of her."

With a final glance at the cottage, Draco knewit was time. Time to bring her home.

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

The night, already thick with the weight of unspoken emotions, was shattered by a rapping on the door. An insistent, almost frantic rhythm that jolted Hermione and Draco from a sleep laced with worry. Draco stirred first, blinking away the remnants of dreams and reaching for his wand, a reflex honed during years of war. The rapping came again, louder this time, a discordant note in the quiet symphony of the night.

With a questioning glance at Hermione, Draco rose, his hand hovering over his wand as he crept towards the door. Hermione followed, her own wand clutched tightly in her hand.

"Who could it be at this unholy hour?" she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur.

Draco shook his head, a sliver of apprehension tightening his features. "Stay behind me, love," he murmured, his voice low and steady despite the disquiet gnawing at his gut.

He cracked the door open with a sliver, revealing a sight that both surprised and relieved him. Pansy, Blaise and Theo stood on the doorstep, their faces etched with concern in the pale moonlight spilling from the doorway.

Pansy, rolled her eyes dramatically, a hint of amusement flickering in her gaze. "Merlin's saggy ball sack, you two look like you've seen a boggart."

Blaise chuckled, his usual sardonic air tinged with genuine worry. "Sorry to rouse you from your beauty sleep, but we figured it was high time for a little reunion, wouldn't you say?"

Theo, the quiet observer of the group, surprised them both with a wide grin. "We wouldn't want you lovebirds to have all the fun recovering, now would we?"

Relief washed over Draco, a wave so powerful it threatened to steal the breath from his lungs. He sighed, a mixture of exasperation and gratitude coloring his voice. "Come in, come in," he said, ushering them inside. "But next time, try knocking at a decent hour, shall we?"

A small smile tugged at the corners of Hermione's lips, the first genuine one in days. Stepping aside to let them in, she couldn't help but ask, "It's good to see you all, truly. But why are you here exactly?"

Pansy shrugged, her usual bravado faltering slightly. "News travels fast, Granger," she said, her voice softer than Draco had ever heard it. "We heard what happened. We were worried, and... well, we wanted to offer our support, in whatever way we can."

Blaise nodded curtly, his gaze lingering on Draco for a moment before meeting Hermione's. "We've all been through our share of darkness," he said, his voice gruff but sincere. "And sometimes, the only way out is to face it together."

Pansy reached over and squeezed Hermione's hand. "We're here for you, no matter what. You're part of our family now."

What a lovely little traumatized family.

The pre-dawn gloom slowly surrendered to the tentative fingers of sunlight, painting the cozy cottage in a warm glow. As the conversation flowed, punctuated by bursts of laughter and clinking teacups, memories unfurled like well-worn tapestries. Stories of past pranks (some successful, some hilariously disastrous), whispered secrets shared under the cloak of invisibility, and the harrowing battles that had forged an unexpected bond – all these threads wove a tapestry of camaraderie.

Despite the darkness that had threatened to engulf them, a sense of peace settled over Hermione. Here, in the flickering firelight and the gentle hum of their shared history, she found a haven. They were not merely survivors, but a chosen family, bound by the invisible threads of empathy and a shared journey through war and its aftermath.

With each shared laugh and murmured word, a silent vow was made. They would face the challenges ahead, together. 

Not as individuals burdened by their past, but as a united front, their strength amplified by the unwavering support they offered each other. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, casting long shadows across the floor, Hermione knew, with a certainty that warmed her from the inside out, that they would emerge from the darkness, a little stronger, a little braver, and forever bound by the unyielding ties of friendship.

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother.

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

Draco paced the dimly lit study of the cottage, the weight of the conversation he knew was coming pressing down on his shoulders. The embers in the fireplace crackled softly, casting a warm glow over the dark mahogany furniture, but it did little to ease the tension knotting in his chest. His fingers itched to pour a drink, to numb the whirlwind of emotions swirling in his mind, but he knew better. It wouldn't help. Nothing would.

The familiar whoosh of the Floo interrupted his thoughts. Pansy's sharp voice cut through the stillness like a blade.

"Draco, are you alone?"

Her voice carried an edge of concern, something she rarely let show, especially not to him. He froze for a moment before taking a deep breath and turning toward the fireplace. Pansy's face, surrounded by flickering green flames, was staring at him with an intensity that made it clear she wouldn't be dismissed easily.

Draco sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "Yes. I'm alone."

There was a brief pause as her gaze narrowed, sensing the heaviness in his voice. "What happened?"

"Parkinson, it's a private matter," Draco responded, his tone tight, hoping she would back off, though he knew better. Pansy was many things, but backing off wasn't one of them.

Pansy's eyes flashed with defiance, her lips curling into a smirk. "Private? You forget who you're talking to. This isn't some secret you can bury in the Manor walls, Draco. Hermione is family—whether you like it or not. So don't you dare shut me out. What happened?"

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he considered closing the Floo connection altogether. She could be unbearable when she wanted to be, relentless even. But that same tenacity made her the person he could trust with things he wouldn't tell anyone else.

"You are… unbearable," he muttered, his frustration slipping out in his tone.

"Spit it out already," she pressed, not giving him a second to retreat into his usual stoic silence. "You called me, so clearly, you need me. Stop wasting time."

Draco stared at her, the weight of the secret he'd been carrying suddenly feeling too heavy. His throat felt tight, the words lodged there like a curse he couldn't lift. He hadn't spoken it aloud, hadn't even let himself fully process what had happened. But she was right. She always knew when something was eating him alive, and this… this was a secret that had torn his world apart.

With a sharp exhale, Draco finally spoke, his voice low and raw. "She was the one who killed my father."

For a moment, there was only silence between them. Pansy's eyes widened ever so slightly, though she masked her surprise quickly. Of all the things she had expected, this wasn't it.

"Oh..." Her voice was uncharacteristically soft, the usual biting edge replaced with something that sounded almost like respect. "Good for her."

Draco blinked, his eyes narrowing at her reaction. "Good for her?" he echoed, disbelief coating his words.

Her smirk returned, though there was a warmth in her eyes that Draco rarely saw. "Yes, good for her. After everything your father put her through, she deserves a bloody medal. She did what needed to be done. A good girl, that one."

His lips twitched, a mix of anger and resignation bubbling beneath the surface. He knew Pansy was right—his father had been a monster, even to him. But knowing Hermione had been the one to end his life? It wasn't something he could easily accept, no matter the circumstances.

He shook his head, his voice dropping to a pained whisper. "She couldn't handle the guilt, Pansy. It's eating her alive."

Her expression shifted, the usual playful snark falling away as she met Draco's gaze with something more serious, more understanding. "Of course it is. She's Hermione bloody Granger. She's not like us, Draco. She feels things… deeply. It's one of the reasons she's different."

Draco leaned against the desk, his hands gripping the edge tightly. "I thought she could move past it. I thought we could move past it together. But it's killing her, and I don't know how to help."

Her gaze softened ever more, her voice steady but laced with empathy. "You can't erase what happened, Draco. No one can. But you can help her carry the weight. She doesn't have to do it alone."

He closed his eyes, trying to steady himself. The image of Hermione's tear-streaked face, the brokenness in her eyes, flashed before him, and his chest tightened. "She won't talk about it. She won't even look at me the same way anymore. It's like… like she's fading away, and I can't reach her."

Her voice was surprisingly gentle as she replied. "She's drowning in guilt. And when someone like Hermione is overwhelmed, they shut down. But you, Draco, you've always been good at fighting for what you want. Fight for her. Don't let her pull away. Make her see that you're there, no matter how far she tries to run."

Draco clenched his fists, the sense of helplessness gnawing at him. "I don't know if she'll ever forgive herself for what she did."

Her eyes darkened with determination. "Then show her it's not about forgiveness. It's about survival. She saved herself from his sins. She saved you. That's what matters."

A heavy silence hung between them as her words sank in. Draco straightened, the resolve in his chest hardening. He would kill again for Hermione. He would be there for her, no matter how difficult the road ahead became.

"She's going to come out of this," she said firmly, her usual sarcasm replaced by a rare, sincere belief. "And when she does, she'll be stronger. But until then, she needs you to be strong for her."

Draco nodded slowly, his gaze hardening with renewed purpose. "You're right."

She smirked, her usual teasing glint returning to her eyes. "Of course I'm right. I'm always right."

Draco rolled his eyes, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips despite the heavy weight still pressing on his heart. "Thanks, Parkinson."

"Anytime, darling," she replied, her tone light, but the understanding between them was deeper than words.

As Pansy's face disappeared from the Floo, Draco stood in the quiet of the study once more. But this time, the silence didn't feel as suffocating. He had a plan, a purpose. He wasn't going to let Hermione slip away—not now, not ever. And no matter how unbearable Pansy could be, he knew she was right.

He would fight for her.

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

The evening had long since darkened when Neville stepped through the door of his modest but comfortable home. He could still smell the lingering scent of the earth on his robes from the greenhouse at Hogwarts, where he'd been working late, tending to his plants—his solace after a long day. However, the tranquility he often felt upon returning home was quickly interrupted by the sight of Pansy pacing back and forth across the sitting room, her face pale with worry.

It wasn't like Pansy to look so shaken. Sure, she could be dramatic, but this… this was different. Her usual air of nonchalance had been replaced by a tense energy that seemed to radiate off her in waves.

He dropped his bag by the door, his brow furrowing in concern as he took in her agitated movements. He crossed the room swiftly, gently placing his hands on her shoulders to stop her pacing.

"My love," he said, his voice low and soft, "what's going on? What happened?"

Dhe stopped, biting her lip in a way that told him whatever she had to say was weighing heavily on her. Her hands fluttered nervously, and Neville could tell she was struggling to find the right words—a rare occurrence for Pansy Parkinson.

"I need to tell you something," she began, her voice almost hesitant. His worry spiked at the uncharacteristic tone in her voice. Pansy was many things—blunt, confident, fiery—but hesitant wasn't one of them.

He squeezed her shoulders gently, urging her to continue. "Of course, love. You can tell me anything," he reassured her, his eyes never leaving her face.

Pansy took a deep breath, finally meeting his eyes. "Promise me, Nevie… promise me you won't tell anyone."

Neville's heart rate quickened. Whatever this was, it was serious. He could see it in the way Pansy's hands were trembling slightly. Still, he nodded without hesitation, his loyalty to her unwavering. "Of course, I promise. You know I won't say a word."

Pansy closed her eyes for a moment, steadying herself before speaking again. "It's about Hermione."

The name alone was enough to make Neville's heart lurch. Hermione had been one of his closest friends for years, ever since their time at Hogwarts, and the thought that something might have happened to her filled him with a cold dread.

"What is it?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Her lips pressed together tightly, and for a moment, she didn't respond. Then, in a voice that was far too quiet for the usually loud and brash woman, she said, "She almost overdosed."

The words hit him like a blow to the chest, his breath catching in his throat. "What?" he whispered, his mind reeling with shock. "Overdosed?"

She nodded, her expression grim. "On calming drought. She… she wasn't handling things well, and she—" her voice faltered for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "Draco found her just in time. She's alive. She's safe now, but…" Her voice trailed off, the unspoken weight of the situation hanging in the air.

He took a step back, his mind racing as he tried to process the information. Hermione had always been the strong one—the one who fought, who never backed down, no matter the odds. The idea that she had been pushed to such a desperate point was unimaginable to him.

"Oh, Merlin," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. His stomach twisted at the thought of how close they'd come to losing her. "Is she okay? I mean… is she really okay now?"

She shook her head slightly. "She's physically fine, but she's not okay, Nevie. She's at her cottage now, recovering. But… it's not going to be easy for her. This wasn't just some minor lapse. She's struggling, more than any of us realized."

He felt a knot form in his throat. "Why didn't she say anything?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion. "Why didn't she tell us she was hurting this much?"

Her eyes softened, and she moved closer to him, reaching out to take his hands in hers. "Hermione's always been the strong one, hasn't she?" She said gently. "She doesn't know how to ask for help. She probably thought she could handle it on her own, until she couldn't."

Neville squeezed her hands, his mind whirling with a mix of emotions—anger at himself for not noticing, guilt for not being there, and overwhelming concern for his friend. "We need to help her," he said firmly, his voice laced with determination. "She can't go through this alone."

She nodded. "She's at the cottage now, with Draco. Theo and I have been helping him get everything set up for her, making sure she's comfortable, but… she's going to need more than that."

His eyes darkened with resolve. "I'll be there. We'll both be there, whenever she needs us."

Pansy smiled faintly, a hint of relief crossing her features. "I knew you'd say that."

He pulled her into a tight embrace, resting his chin on top of her head. "Thank you for telling me," he murmured into her hair. "I'll keep the promise, but we're going to do everything we can to make sure she gets through this. All of us. Together."

She nodded against his chest, her arms wrapping around him. For all her bravado, Neville could feel how much this was affecting her. Hermione wasn't just an acquaintance anymore—she was family, part of the strange, tight-knit circle they had built after the war. And now, more than ever, that family needed to stand strong.

"She's going to be okay," she whispered, though it sounded as much like a reassurance to herself as it did to Neville.

"She will be," he agreed, though his heart was heavy with worry. "We'll make sure of it."

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

The days after Hermione's near overdose blurred into a quiet but determined rhythm. Draco had taken her to the cottage, her sanctuary from the world, a small but beautiful place she'd once retreated to before the Marriage Act had upended her life. Now, the place seemed more of a retreat than ever, but not from the world—more from her pain, her guilt, and the overwhelming weight that had driven her to that dark moment.

Draco was her constant companion, his normally sharp, sardonic demeanor softened by his concern for Hermione. But soon, others came. Others who, like Draco, refused to let her fall back into the shadows of her own mind.

One of the first to arrive after Draco had settled her was Pansy, and, predictably, she wasn't alone. She brought with her the one companion that could always coax a smile from the most reluctant of souls: Lady Lemongrass. The moment Pansy stepped through the door of the cottage, Lady bolted across the room, her tail wagging furiously as she launched herself onto the couch where Hermione sat, wrapped in a soft blanket.

"Hello, princess," Hermione murmured softly, scratching the pug behind the ears as the dog snuffled happily against her leg. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth—perhaps the first genuine smile Draco had seen from her in days.

She, as always, took in the scene with her usual flair, surveying the room before plopping herself down in a chair across from Hermione. "I figured you could use some company," she said casually, as though this visit were just another part of their daily routine. But there was a tenderness in her eyes that wasn't lost on Hermione. Pansy wasn't here just for a social call; she was here because she cared.

"We'll take it one day at a time, alright?" she said after a moment, her voice softer than usual. "You don't have to be strong all the time, Granger. We've got you."

Hermione nodded, unable to find the right words to respond. But the warmth that spread through her chest told her that even without words, Pansy understood.

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

That first visit set the tone for the days that followed. Almost daily, they would drop by the cottage, refusing to let Hermione isolate herself entirely.

Neville, in particular, had been relentless in his quiet but steadfast way. He showed up with baskets of food, herbs, and flowers from the greenhouses, knowing that tending to plants often brought Hermione a sense of calm. Together, they spent hours in the small garden outside her cottage, planting new herbs or simply sitting in comfortable silence as the afternoon sun filtered through the trees.

One morning, as he and Hermione knelt together, replanting a row of lavender, Neville glanced over at her. "How are you really feeling, Hermione?" he asked gently, his hands working the soil with practiced ease.

Hermione paused, her gaze fixed on the delicate lavender blooms swaying in the breeze. "I don't know," she admitted after a long moment. "Some days, it feels like I'm drowning. Other days… other days I feel okay. But it's hard, Nev."

He didn't push. He never did. He simply nodded, his expression filled with understanding. "We'll take it slow," he said softly. "One day at a time, like Pansy said."

And then there were the nights when Pansy brought the weed.

It started with one particularly difficult evening. Hermione had been quiet all day, withdrawn even, and Pansy knew the signs of someone slipping into their own darkness. So, without a second thought, she showed up at the cottage with a small, discreet package and a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Come on, Granger," Pansy said, flopping down beside her on the couch. "I think it's time we loosened up a bit." She held up the small package with a grin. "A little weed never hurts anyone. Besides, you need to relax."

Hermione stared at the package, her brows furrowed in confusion, but then her infectious grin finally got to her. After a long moment, Hermione let out a small laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. "You're incorrigible, Parkinson."

She winked. "I know. But seriously, it might help you clear your mind. Let's give it a go."

And so, with the windows slightly cracked to let the fresh air in, they sat together, passing a joint back and forth as the tension in Hermione's shoulders slowly eased. She chatted about everything and nothing, filling the silence with stories of Lady's latest antics and updates on their friends. By the time they finished, the room was filled with the soft sound of Hermione's laughter—genuine and warm for the first time in what felt like forever.

When Draco returned from a quick errand and found them both laughing hysterically over something as mundane as the shape of Lady's nose, he raised an eyebrow. "Should I even ask what's going on?"

She grinned at him. "Just helping our girl here unwind."

Draco's lips twitched in amusement, though he rolled his eyes at her antics. Still, there was a lightness in the air that hadn't been there before, and he couldn't help but feel grateful to Pansy for bringing that sense of levity into Hermione's world again.

Each visit brought something different. Sometimes it was laughter, like the night when the others had come over with a ridiculous Muggle board game, and they had all spent hours trying to figure out the nonsensical rules, laughing until their sides hurt. Other times, it was quieter, like when Neville simply sat with Hermione on the porch, sharing a cup of tea as they watched the sun dip below the horizon.

But always, they were there. Always, they reminded Hermione that she wasn't alone.

Even Lady became a fixture at the cottage, waddling after Hermione whenever she moved from room to room. There were days when Hermione would curl up on the couch with the pug nestled in her lap, the soft, rhythmic sound of the dog's snoring providing a strange sort of comfort. It was on those days that Hermione felt the weight on her chest lift just a little.

One afternoon, as Hermione sat outside in the garden with Neville and Pansy, sipping on some of the herbal tea Neville had brought, she looked around at her friends—at the people who had become her family—and felt an overwhelming surge of gratitude.

"I don't know what I'd do without you all," she said quietly, her voice thick with emotion.

Pansy, ever the one to deflect sentiment with humor, rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh, please, Granger. You'd be fine. But we are pretty amazing, aren't we?"

He smiled softly, reaching over to place a comforting hand on Hermione's. "You don't have to do anything without us, Hermione. We're here. Always."

Theo, who had just stepped out onto the porch with a tray of snacks, chimed in from behind them. "Damn right we are. And honestly, who else is going to put up with your nonsense, Granger? You're stuck with us."

Hermione laughed, the sound light and easy, and for the first time in a long time, she believed them. She believed that she wasn't alone—that she didn't have to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders by herself.

Because no matter what, they would be there.

Every day. Every step of the way.

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

Pansy lay awake in the dim light of their bedroom, the moon casting soft shadows through the sheer curtains. Lady snored lightly at the foot of the bed, her small body rising and falling with each breath. But sleep wasn't coming easily to Pansy tonight. Her thoughts whirled, bouncing from one thing to another, but always circling back to the same worry.

Beside her, his breathing was steady and slow, the rhythm of someone who had worked a long day and had finally succumbed to well-earned rest. His arm lay draped across her waist, a comforting weight that anchored her in the present. And yet, despite the warmth of his presence, a quiet fear gnawed at her heart.

After several minutes of quiet deliberation, she shifted slightly, turning to face him. Her movement must have woken him because his eyes fluttered open, and he gazed at her with bleary-eyed affection.

"What's the matter, love?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep but laced with concern. "Can't sleep?"

She bit her lip, unsure of how to start. She didn't want to burden him with her worries, especially after everything that had happened with Hermione. They had been so focused on their friend, making sure she was alright, visiting her almost daily to keep her spirits up, that they hadn't really checked in with each other. And now, in the stillness of the night, she couldn't help but wonder if they were neglecting themselves.

"Nevie," she began softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Are we alright?"

The question hung in the air between them for a moment, and she could see the brief flicker of confusion in his eyes. He propped himself up on one elbow, his brow furrowing slightly as he looked down at her.

"I am, love," he said gently, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "Why do you ask? Are you?"

Pansy exhaled slowly, not sure how to put her swirling thoughts into words. "I don't know. It's just… we've been taking such good care of Hermione, making sure she's okay, that I'm starting to wonder if we're taking care of each other."

His expression softened with understanding, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. "Of course, I'll take care of you, Parky. I always will. But nothing's going to happen to you, alright?"

"But what if something does?" Her voice was small, laced with a vulnerability she rarely allowed herself to show. "What if something happens to one of us? We're always so focused on everyone else—Draco, Theo, my Luna, Blaise, even the redhead—but what about us?"

The question hung heavy in the air, a truth that neither of them had really voiced until now.

He frowned slightly, the weight of her words settling over him. He shifted, turning to face her fully, his hand resting gently on her cheek. "Pansy, are you unhappy?"

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to organize her thoughts. "No, I'm not unhappy. Not with you. But… sometimes, I wish I had met you sooner. Maybe then things would've been different. We wouldn't have had to go through everything we did before we found each other."

She opened her eyes and met his gaze, her own filled with uncertainty. "But then, I think… maybe we met each other at exactly the right time. Maybe we had to go through everything first to be ready for each other. I don't know."

Neville was quiet for a moment, absorbing her words. Then, with a soft smile, he pulled her into his arms, holding her close. "We found each other when we needed each other the most, Parky," he murmured against her hair. "And that's what matters."

She let out a shaky breath, her head resting on his chest as she listened to the steady beat of his heart. It was comforting, grounding her in the here and now. "Do you really believe that?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

"I do," he replied without hesitation. "We've both been through so much, and we came out the other side stronger. And we've got each other now. Whatever happens, we'll face it together. That's a promise."

Her arms tightened around him, her heart swelling with a mixture of love and gratitude. He was right. They had found each other when they needed each other the most, and that was something she couldn't take for granted. But the fear, the lingering doubt, still clung to her—especially after what had happened with Hermione.

"Do you think she'll be okay?" she asked quietly, shifting the conversation back to Hermione. "I mean, really okay?"

He sighed softly, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know. It's going to take time, I think. But she has us, and she has Draco. She's not alone. That's the most important thing."

She nodded, knowing that he was right but still feeling the weight of it all. They had been visiting Hermione almost daily, bringing little bits of normalcy back into her life—Lady to make her laugh, herbal teas from Neville's greenhouse, and even the occasional joint to help her relax. They kept her company, distracting her from her own mind with stories, laughter, and quiet companionship.

But even with all of that, there were still moments when Pansy could see the sadness in Hermione's eyes, the lingering guilt that she couldn't shake. It was hard to watch, and even harder to know that there was only so much they could do. They couldn't fix everything.

He seemed to sense her thoughts, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. "We're doing everything we can for her, Parky. That's all we can do. The rest… she'll have to find her own way through it."

She let out a soft sigh, snuggling deeper into Neville's embrace. "I just don't want her to feel like she's a burden. She's always been so strong, you know? And now…"

"And now, she needs us," he finished gently. "And we're here for her. Just like we'll be here for each other, no matter what."

She smiled faintly against his chest, her heart feeling a little lighter at his words. "I know. I just… I love you, Nev."

His arms tightened around her, his lips brushing her temple. "I love you too, Sassy. More than you know."

They lay there in silence for a while, the weight of their conversation still lingering but softened by the warmth of their connection. Pansy knew that things wouldn't always be easy—life had a way of throwing unexpected challenges at them—but she also knew that, with Neville by her side, she could face whatever came next.

"Let me help you relax, my love," he whispered, his breath warm against her skin. His lips traced a soft, lingering path along her neck, sending shivers down her spine. She gasped, her body arching in response as his kisses found the sensitive spots along her ears.

Her soft moans filled the air, growing more urgent as his hands traveled lower, cupping her breasts with reverence. His fingers expertly teased her nipples, pinching gently until they hardened beneath his touch. His mouth followed, lips and tongue working in tandem as he sucked on her nipples, drawing out deeper, needier sounds from her lips.

Her hands tangled in his hair, urging him on. "Please," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath, "go lower."

With a knowing smile, he gently guided her to the edge of the bed. Kneeling before her, he placed tender kisses along her inner thighs, savoring the anticipation building between them. When his tongue finally met her wetness, a gasp escaped her as he circled her clit with deliberate, skillful strokes.

Her body responded instantly, hips lifting off the bed, her moans growing louder with each flick of his tongue. He alternated between licking and sucking, driving her closer and closer to the edge, until every nerve in her body was alive with pleasure, ready to unravel in his hands.

His finger slid inside her, and a soft gasp escaped her lips as pleasure surged through her body. He moved slowly at first, teasing, curling his finger just enough to make her hips lift, silently begging for more.

"Deeper," she whispered, her voice breathless with need.

Obliging her plea, he added a second finger, thrusting them deeper inside her, his movements growing faster, more intense. The rhythm he set made her writhe beneath him, her body responding eagerly to every thrust, every sensation.

He could feel her teetering on the edge, her breath quickening, her muscles tensing as she chased the release building inside her. His mouth returned to her clit, his tongue circling and sucking in time with the movements of his fingers, each flick sending her spiraling closer to the brink.

Her moans became desperate, her body trembling as the tension reached its peak. With a final, skillful stroke, her orgasm crashed over her, and she shuddered against him, her body overwhelmed by the waves of pleasure coursing through her.

He stood up, his body flushed with desire, and revealed his cock, hard and ready. Pansy was still trembling from the intensity of her orgasm, but her hunger for more was evident in the way her eyes gleamed with anticipation. Without hesitation, he slid inside her, the sensation of his length filling her drawing a deep, satisfied moan from her lips.

He began slowly, savoring the feel of her warm, tight body wrapped around him, their movements a languid dance of pleasure. But it wasn't long before she started to crave more, her hips bucking against him, her voice breathless as she pleaded, "Faster. Harder."

Her request ignited something in him, and he obliged, picking up the pace, his thrusts becoming wild and urgent. The room was filled with the sound of their bodies meeting, the moans and gasps of pleasure filling the air, and the heady mix of desire between them grew even more intense.

He could feel her building toward another climax, her breath hitching, her moans more desperate with every thrust. Leaning down, he captured one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking and flicking it with his tongue, driving her closer to the edge.

Pansy's body tensed beneath him, then convulsed as another orgasm tore through her, her moans echoing as she gave in to the waves of pleasure rippling through her. Her whole body shuddered, and he groaned, knowing he was close to his own release.

With a final thrust, he pulled out just in time, his own climax overtaking him as he spilled himself over her stomach, their bodies both trembling from the intensity. Pansy, breathless and flushed, smiled up at him, satisfaction written all over her face.

As they lay together, the tension of the night finally slipping away, the steady beat of his heart against her skin lulled her into a peaceful sleep. The first light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over them, and in that quiet moment, Pansy realized something that calmed her more than anything else had.

She wasn't afraid anymore. Because no matter what came next, they had each other. And that, more than anything, was enough.

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

The next day, they visited Hermione as usual. She carried a basket full of fresh herbs and pastries from the local bakery, while Neville had a small pot of calming tea in his hands, freshly brewed from his greenhouse. Lady Lemongrass trotted alongside them, her little legs working overtime to keep up with their pace.

When they arrived at the cottage, Draco opened the door, looking as though he hadn't slept in days. But despite his weariness, there was a flicker of relief in his eyes when he saw them.

"Thanks for coming," he said gruffly, stepping aside to let them in.

"Always," she replied, giving him a brief but reassuring smile.

Hermione was sitting on the couch, a blanket draped over her lap and a book resting on the armrest beside her. She looked up when they entered, her expression softening at the sight of them.

"Hey," she greeted quietly, her voice still a little fragile but stronger than it had been in recent days. "I wasn't expecting you today."

"Well, we couldn't stay away," she said lightly, setting the basket down on the table. "Besides, I figured you could use some fresh herbs for your potions."

Hermione smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Thanks, Pans. I appreciate it."

Neville handed her the tea with a gentle smile. "Thought you might like some company. And this might help you sleep better."

Hermione accepted the cup, wrapping her hands around the warmth. "You guys are too good to me."

"Nonsense," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "We're your friends. That's what we do."

As they settled into their usual routine—chatting, laughing, and simply being there for each other—Pansy felt a quiet sense of contentment settle over her. It wasn't perfect, and there were still hard days ahead. But in that moment, surrounded by the people she cared about most, she knew they would get through it together.

Because that's what they owed to each other. And that was enough.