Part 2
"So obviously this will be the event of the century," she announced, barely pausing for breath. Her voice rose in excitement, words tumbling out as though she had an inexhaustible supply of them. She paced the length of Luna's living room, every movement as dramatic as the swirl of her designer dress.
Luna sat behind her desk, trying to focus on her half-finished tea, her thoughts repeatedly derailed by Pansy's fervor. The memory of Pansy's wedding planning still lingered in her mind—a colossal, months-long escapade that had nearly driven them all mad. The demands for imported flowers charmed to glow at sunset, the strict dress codes with matching color gradients, the illusions of shimmering stardust that clung to guests' sleeves—all of it had been meticulously orchestrated by Pansy, who seemed to possess endless energy for such grand designs. And now, apparently, it was happening all over again—but in the context of childbirth.
Luna set her teacup down, inhaling slowly in an attempt to steady her nerves. She had braced herself for Pansy's excitement about pregnancy, but she hadn't realized just how massive a production she intended to make of it. The level of obsession was reminiscent of those wedding days—only this time, it wasn't about a vow exchange or wedding décor. It was about delivering a baby. If Luna was honest with herself, she didn't quite know how one could transform giving birth into "the event of the century," but if anyone could, it was Pansy Parkinson-Longbottom.
As Pansy circled Luna's drawing room, her words rose to a crescendo: "I'm thinking live performers, enchanting illusions to represent the different stages of gestation, and, of course, special potions catered to everyone's tastes. I wouldn't want the guests to be bored while they wait. We'll need a carefully selected playlist—maybe some veela choir to sing in the background as I…" She trailed off dramatically, placing a hand over her abdomen as though cradling a precious jewel.
Meanwhile, Luna rubbed her temples, a wry smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She remembered how, during Pansy's wedding mania, it was Neville who had proven to be the ultimate model of patience. She recalled the late nights when, instead of pulling his hair out, Neville would remain calmly at Pansy's side, nodding along as she debated the merits of hand-embroidered napkins versus conjured ones. Luna had been stunned at the time; she wondered again now where Neville even got that endless well of composure. Because "Pansy in full planning mode" was something beyond what most mortals could endure.
And here was Pansy, casually plotting to stage her childbirth like it was a grand gala. Luna couldn't help but recall her own pregnancy—one marked by cravings for chocolate-dipped strawberries, mood swings that could outdo any storm, and the raw terror of labor. But overshadowing all of that was the isolation she'd felt when her time came. Theo had been away on a mission, leaving her to face those endless hours alone, paced with fear and anticipation in the echoing halls of Nott Manor.
She'd had to rely on her own reserves of courage, enduring the pain and the panic without the steady presence of the man she loved. By the time her baby arrived, she'd learned more about her own strength than she ever had through all her years at Hogwarts. And so, watching Pansy scheme and plan, Luna couldn't help but wonder if her friend realized just how unpredictable—how achingly real—birth could be, no matter how lavish the arrangements.
A wave of exhaustion washed over Luna. She was already envisioning Pansy dictating "checklists for the pre-delivery reception," insisting on color palettes for the new baby's outfits, and possibly even coordinating with famed magical pastry chefs to create a "birthing cake." The mental picture was so outlandish that Luna nearly choked on a laugh. She coughed, covering her mouth, hoping Pansy wouldn't notice.
But Pansy did notice, pausing mid-step to fix Luna with a look of mild offense. "Luna, darling, don't laugh. I'm serious!" She gestured grandly, eyes gleaming. "This is my child's entrance into the world. I won't have it be some… dull, painful ordeal. There must be elegance, meaning, romance—an unforgettable experience for everyone involved!"
Luna gave her a tight smile, remembering her own "dull, painful ordeal" in the hospital. "Of course," she managed, voice carefully neutral. "It's just… you know, there's a fair bit of screaming and bodily fluids that come with giving birth, right?"
Pansy waved off the practical concern with a dramatic flourish of her hand, as if flicking away an irrelevant detail. "Mere trifles. We'll have illusions to camouflage that. And spells to dull the pain. And a string quartet, perhaps. People will watch from a respectful distance—unless they want the front-row seats, which we'll obviously have to charge extra for." She laughed then, a tinkling sound that suggested she was only half-joking.
With a heavy sigh, she set aside her tea and rose from her chair, crossing to the room's fireplace. A sense of déjà vu rolled over her—she recalled how many times she'd tried and failed to talk Pansy out of some outlandish wedding detail, only to have the final product come out more or less perfectly. In the end, Pansy's mania always produced results that bordered on spectacular. Perhaps it would be the same this time, but the idea of turning labor into a spectacle made Luna want to hide under a blanket until the baby was out and swaddled.
Still, Pansy's excitement was infectious. Luna couldn't deny the sincerity in her eyes. Behind the dramatics was something pure—Pansy's fierce love for the life growing inside her, and her fervent desire to celebrate it in the grandest manner possible. There was a strangely touching earnestness in that.
She rested a hand lightly on Pansy's arm, mindful of her friend's delicate state. "Look," she began gently, "I know you want this to be special. I'm not telling you to let go of your vision. But do remember your own well-being comes first, especially after the third trimester. There's a reason you seldom see pregnant witches cartwheeling down the aisles." She cracked a small grin, hoping humor might temper Pansy's intensity.
Pansy's eyes flashed with a playful defiance. "Oh, I'll do more than cartwheels if I have to." Her tone took on a mischievous lilt. "But your concern is noted. Neville's been fretting over me enough for the both of you anyway. If there was an award for supportive husband, he'd have it in the bag."
Luna let out a soft chuckle. "No argument there. He has the patience of a saint," she said, marveling again at how Neville managed Pansy's unstoppable drive without losing his own gentle heart in the process.
With a resolved exhale, Pansy gathered the folds of her dress and pivoted on her heel. "Anyway," she continued, "I think the first step is securing the location. The second step is obviously drafting the guest list. And the third is finalizing the illusions that will run from dawn to midnight." She turned a calculated gaze on Luna. "And I'll need your help to manage them all. I can't exactly be weaving illusions while I'm in labor."
Luna shook her head, a heavy mix of amusement and resignation. "Of course, I'll help," she replied, as though there had been any doubt. That was the thing about Pansy—her iron will was only matched by the loyalty she inspired in those around her. "But I reserve the right to keep a mediwizard or two on standby, in case your illusions don't handle all that screaming."
A delighted laugh escaped Pansy as she linked arms with Luna, dragging her toward the nearest writing desk where parchment and quills waited. "You see? Everything's coming together. It'll be glorious, I promise!"
And so, Luna mused, they embarked on another Pansy-driven, over-the-top plan. In her mind's eye, she already pictured the candlelit corridor leading to a birthing room bright with illusions of swirling galaxies, while Neville hovered in the wings, fussing over his wife with anxious devotion. She supposed, in a strange way, it might just work.
Even though the concept was overwhelming—turning something as raw and visceral as childbirth into a glittering, star-studded event—Luna knew that beneath Pansy's spectacle lay a real tenderness. This was Pansy's love language, after all: going big, going bold, and leaving no detail unturned. Perhaps "the event of the century" was the only way Pansy knew how to usher in the tiny person who would become the heart of her world.
With a slight smile playing at her lips, Luna picked up a quill and poised it over a fresh sheet of parchment. She had a feeling they were in for a whirlwind, but with Pansy around, what else was new? Sighing in mock resignation, she dipped the quill in ink, ready to jot down bullet points for the "Pre-Labor Illusion Design." And so, with Pansy's grand ideas swirling in her head, Luna reminded herself that sometimes the biggest journeys began with one slightly insane plan—and maybe, just maybe, that was part of the magic.
~~~~~~
Hermione had just settled onto the plush sofa in her living room, a steaming cup of tea cradled in her hands, when the front door burst open. The familiar voices of Pansy and Luna echoed down the hallway, their footsteps quick and purposeful.
She barely had time to look up before they marched into the room like women on a mission. Pansy, dressed impeccably in a tailored green cloak, looked every bit the pureblood socialite she was. Luna, in stark contrast, wore a flowing sunflower-yellow dress, designer of course, her ethereal presence a calming counterpoint to Pansy's stormy energy.
"Granger," Pansy began without preamble, her tone as sharp as her stilettos, "I have something to say to you."
She blinked, startled, setting her tea down on the coffee table. "What happened? Is everything okay?"
Pansy planted her hands on her hips and tilted her chin upward in a dramatic flourish. "As you may know I am pregnant," she declared, her words echoing with the kind of grandeur one might expect at the announcement of a royal engagement. "Since this will undoubtedly be the event of the century, I felt it only right to deliver the news personally."
Her eyes widened, her lips parting in surprise. "Oh, Pansy, that's wonderful!"
"Thank you, thank you," Pansy said airily, as though she were accepting an award. "Naturally, you'll all be hearing about it endlessly until the baby is born. And possibly afterward too."
Before Hermione could respond, she interjected, her voice light and curious. "Mimi, I think there's something you're not telling us."
Hermione hesitated, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. She glanced between the two women, her hands fidgeting slightly in her lap. "Well…" she began, her tone cautious but tinged with excitement. "I think I might be pregnant soon, too."
The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of Hermione's revelation hanging in the air like a spark waiting to ignite.
Her eyes lit up with delight. "Oh, how wonderful!"
Pansy, however, turned to her with an exaggerated smirk and held out her hand, palm up. "Pay up, Lovegood. I told you."
She let out a soft sigh and reached into the pocket of her dress, pulling out five gleaming galleons. "Fine," she muttered, placing them into Pansy's waiting hand.
Her jaw dropped. "Are you two betting on whether or not I'm pregnant?" she demanded, half-outraged and half-amused.
Pansy gave her a knowing look, pocketing the coins with a flourish. "Granger, darling, we are bored at home. Of course, we bet on things. It's not like there's a Quidditch match every day to keep us entertained."
"Pansy, that's hardly appropriate!" she huffed, though the corners of her mouth twitched with the beginnings of a reluctant smile.
"Oh, come off it," Pansy said with a wave of her hand. "We were going to find out eventually, weren't we? And besides, you've been glowing lately. It was obvious something was brewing."
She pressed a hand to her cheek, feeling the heat of her blush. "I didn't realize I was that transparent," she muttered.
She smiled serenely, reaching out to place a gentle hand on Hermione's arm. "It's a beautiful thing, Mimi. And we're so happy for you, no matter how Pansy's antics make it seem."
"Thank you, babe," she said, shooting a pointed look at Pansy.
Pansy, unfazed, flopped down onto the sofa and stretched out dramatically. "You're welcome. And might I add that this is going to be fabulous? Five babies in the group? Just think of the chaos. I, for one, can't wait to see Draco trying to change nappies. It will be the highlight of my year."
Hermione groaned, though she couldn't suppress a laugh. "You're impossible."
"And yet, you love me," Pansy replied with a wink.
The three women dissolved into laughter, the room filled with warmth and camaraderie. For all their differences, their bond was undeniable—a friendship forged through shared history, mutual respect, and the occasional ridiculous bet.
As the laughter faded, Hermione leaned back in her seat, a soft smile playing on her lips. For the first time in weeks, she felt a profound sense of peace, surrounded by the people who had become her chosen family.
Hermione swirled her wine slowly, her eyes fixed on the liquid as if it held answers to the thoughts that had weighed on her heart for months. The firelight flickered across her face, illuminating the quiet turmoil within her. She set the glass down with a trembling hand, the delicate clink of glass on wood breaking the warm, companionable silence that had settled between them.
Taking a deep breath, she glanced up, her gaze darting nervously between the two women before settling on Luna. "Babes," she said softly, her voice quivering like the surface of her untouched wine.
She looked up immediately, her serene expression radiating a kind of quiet strength. The flicker of flames danced in her blue-gray eyes, casting a glow that seemed almost otherworldly. "Yes?" she asked gently, tilting her head in that way she always did, as if Hermione's words were the most important thing in the world. Her tone was light but laced with concern.
Her throat tightened, and she blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears that had been gathering all evening. The weight of unspoken gratitude pressed on her chest, and she struggled to find the right words. "I don't think…" She paused, swallowing hard, her voice breaking on the last word. "I don't think I've ever properly thanked you."
Pansy, lounging on the sofa with her wine glass balanced gracefully between her fingers, raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "What's this, Granger?" she drawled, her tone teasing but not unkind. "A thank-you speech? Are we in for one of your over-the-top, heartfelt monologues? Should I grab a tissue?"
She gave her a look that was half exasperation, half fondness. "Shut up, Pansy," she muttered, though her tone wavered between a laugh and a sob. She turned her attention back to Luna, her gaze unwavering now, even as tears began to spill down her cheeks.
"Luna… you saved my life." Her voice cracked, the raw emotion of the words filling the room. She let out a shaky breath, her hands clutching each other as if grounding herself. "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. You didn't just heal my body—you gave me my life back. You gave me a second chance."
Her expression softened, her ethereal calm tinged with emotion. She set her glass aside and reached across the space between them, placing her hand gently over hers. "Oh, Mimi," she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. Her eyes glistened as she spoke. "You don't have to thank me for that. You're my friend. My family. I would do it a million times over, without a second thought."
She let out a choked laugh, her tears flowing freely now. "That's just it, babes," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "You didn't hesitate. You stepped in when I was broken—when I was barely holding on—and you… you stayed with me. You fought for me, even when I couldn't fight for myself." She covered her hand with both of hers, squeezing it tightly. "I'll never forget that. Never."
Pansy shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her usual sharp demeanor softening as she watched the exchange. "Bloody hell," she muttered, dabbing at her eyes with a napkin. "You two are going to ruin my reputation. If word gets out that I cried, I'm blaming both of you."
Hermione turned to Pansy with a watery smile. "You're part of this too, you know," she said, her voice steadier now. "I didn't thank you properly either—not for what you did when Draco was kidnapped."
Pansy waved a hand dismissively, though her cheeks pinkened slightly. "Oh, please," she said, rolling her eyes. "It was nothing. You'd have done the same for me."
"No," she insisted, shaking her head. "It wasn't nothing. You didn't have to help me, but you did. You charged in like a storm, demanding answers and kicking down walls—literally—and you didn't stop until we brought him back."
Pansy smirked, through her eyes shone with unshed tears. "Well," she said lightly, "I do look fabulous saving the day. But let's not make a habit of it, hmm? I'd prefer to keep my shoes sand-free in the future."
She let out a laugh that felt like a release, a floodgate opening to gratitude and love she hadn't allowed herself to fully express before. "At one point," she said quietly, her gaze dropping to her lap, "I thought Draco was the only one who truly loved me. The only one who would fight for me, no matter what." She looked up, her eyes meeting Luna's, then Pansy's. "But you two showed me I was wrong. You showed me what it means to have people who would stand by me, no matter what."
She squeezed her hand again, her smile radiant. "You're our family, Mimi. Always."
Pansy raised her glass of juice, her smirk softening into a genuine smile. "To the unlikeliest trio in the wizarding world," she said. "The brightest, the quirkiest, and, of course, the most fabulous."
She giggled, reaching for her own glass. "To us," she agreed warmly.
She lifted her glass as well, her heart swelling with gratitude and love. "To us," she echoed, her voice steady now, filled with unshakable certainty.
She leaned back in her chair, cradling her wine glass in her delicate fingers. The glow of the firelight played off her serene features as she gazed at Hermione with a gentle, knowing expression. "Mimi," she began softly, her voice carrying the warmth of a sister's love, "you do realize you're forgetting someone from this quartet."
Pansy, lounging with her usual air of dramatic elegance, groaned and threw her head back in exaggerated frustration. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, Luna, please don't bring Red into our fabulous trio," she drawled, swirling her wine theatrically. "We're finally having a civilized evening without her fiery dramatics."
Her lips curved into a small, reluctant smile, but the tension in her shoulders was unmistakable. She avoided Luna's gaze, her eyes flickering to the flames in the hearth. "Ginny and I…" she began hesitantly, her voice faltering.
She tilted her head, her gaze unwavering yet gentle. "Have you talked to her since your falling out?"
She sighed, her fingers tracing the stem of her glass. "We spoke," she said quietly. "At your baby shower…"
Pansy snorted, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, yes, because exchanging pleasantries over tiny sandwiches and onesie decorations really counts as talking , doesn't it?"
Luna ignored Pansy's quip, her focus solely on Hermione. "No, Mimi," she said patiently, "I mean talk talk. Not formalities. Not a polite 'how are you?' when saving Draco. I mean an actual conversation. One where you both say what you're feeling."
She winced, the weight of her words settling heavily on her chest. She took a deep breath, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not really," she admitted, her tone tinged with regret.
She leaned forward, her expression kind but firm. "Mimi," she said gently, "you and Ginny were once inseparable. She's been a part of your life for so long, through so much. Don't let pride or fear keep you from mending that."
Pansy raised an eyebrow, crossing her legs elegantly. "Look, Granger," she said, her tone softer than usual, "I'm the last person to advocate for emotional heart-to-hearts. But even I know that holding onto grudges isn't worth it. Especially with someone like Red. She's fiery, yes, and annoyingly stubborn, but she cares about you. You two just… lost your way for a bit."
Her shoulders slumped, and she buried her face in her hands for a moment before looking up. "It's not that simple," she said, her voice cracking slightly. "We've hurt each other. And sometimes, it feels like we're on completely different pages—different library, even."
She reached out, placing a comforting hand over Hermione's. "That's what makes friendships worth fighting for, Mimi," she said softly. "They're not perfect, and they're not always easy. But they're real. And when you care about someone, you don't give up on them just because things get hard."
Pansy sighed dramatically, through her eyes held a glimmer of understanding. "Fine, I'll play devil's advocate," she said, sitting up straighter. "Ginny's been through a lot too. She's not perfect either, but she's loyal to a fault. And if you two were close enough to fall out so badly, that means there's something there worth fixing."
She bit her lip, the tears she'd been holding back finally spilling over. "But what if I don't know how to fix it?" she whispered. "What if I say the wrong thing, or it's too late?"
She leaned closer, her ethereal calmness radiating like a soft glow. She squeezed her hand, her blue eyes filled with quiet conviction. "It's never too late," she said softly. "You don't have to have all the answers. Just start with honesty. Tell her how you feel, and listen to how she feels. If you both want to make this right, you'll find your way back to each other."
Her breath hitched, her emotions threatening to spill over again. "You really think so?" she asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I know so," she replied, her tone unwavering. "Friendships like yours and Ginny's don't just disappear. They may get tangled and torn, but they're never beyond repair."
Suddenly, She straightened in her chair, determination flickering in her tear-streaked face. "We should go. Right now!"
Pansy, who had been half-reclined in her seat, wine glass dangling between her fingers, groaned loudly. "Oh, for fuck sake, Granger. Why must you ruin my perfectly pleasant evening of beverages, firelight, and not dealing with Weasleys?"
She looked at her pleadingly, her voice shaking with desperation. "Because I can't do this alone. I'm scared."
She tilted her head, her lips curving into a soft, encouraging smile. "You're not alone, Mimi. You've got us. And besides, Pansy loves a bit of drama—don't you, Sassy?"
Pansy rolled her eyes dramatically, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh yes, nothing brings me more joy than revisiting my least favorite ginger," she drawled. "And before you say it—no , Luna, Charlie doesn't count. He's the exception."
She clasped her hands together, her gaze locked on Pansy. "Please, Pansy. I need you both. You might pretend you don't care, but I know you do. You've been there for me when I needed you most. Don't let me face this without you."
Pansy let out a long-suffering sigh, setting her glass down with a clink. "Fine. Fine! I'll come. But if she starts throwing hexes, I'm apparating straight back here and finishing this bottle of non alcoholic wine without either of you."
She smiled through her nerves, her gratitude shining through. "Thank you. Both of you."
She stood, brushing invisible wrinkles from her dress. "Well then," she said with an almost mischievous glint in her eye, "off we go. Let's mend some bridges, shall we?"
Pansy grumbled as she stood, grabbing her cloak with dramatic flair. "This better be worth it, Granger. I swear, if she's still in one of her moody, self-righteous fits, I'll hex her myself."
She chuckled nervously, grabbing her own cloak. "She won't be. I hope."
~~~~~~
The words "And I love you too…" had barely left Ginny's lips before the three chaotic demons masquerading as witches tumbled through the Zabini residence fireplace like they had been hurled through the very gates of hell.
A fine, suffocating cloud of soot exploded into the air, settling over the expensive Persian rug like the aftermath of a volcanic eruption. The scent of burnt magic lingered, and standing in the middle of the mess, looking entirely unimpressed, was Hermione, Luna, and Pansy—covered in ash, looking like deranged pyromaniacs.
Hermione coughed dramatically, brushing a layer of soot off her pristine navy cloak, her curls frizzing with betrayal. "Why does this always happen when I Floo?" she muttered, stomping her boot against the floor in frustration. "It's a magically regulated system. Why the fuck does it still hate me?"
Pansy, who had been too busy dramatically fanning herself like some scandalized duchess, was the first to pause mid-motion. Her dark eyes widened to the size of Galleons, her painted lips parting into a gasp of unfiltered glee as she took in the sight before her.
Because what a sight it was.
Blaise Zabini. Shirtless. Wearing a violently neon-green face mask. Glowing.
His hands were firmly gripping Ginny's hips, his mouth still attached to hers, and judging by the sheer ferocity of the kiss, they had just interrupted something entirely too intense for their delicate sensibilities.
Ginny, blissfully unbothered, wiped her lips with all the grace of a queen who had just conquered a nation. "Oh! Hello, girlies! Lovely of you to drop in!"
Blaise, however, looked like he had just been violently betrayed by the gods themselves.
He practically threw himself off Ginny, spinning around with all the grace of a man caught mid-orgasm in the middle of war. His face shifted through about seven different stages of mortification in the span of two seconds.
"WHAT. THE. FUCK." he hissed, arms flailing like a man possessed. The drying face mask cracked as his mouth fell open in absolute horror. "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"
Pansy, thrilled beyond belief, clutched her chest like a society matron about to faint from scandal. "This," she breathed, voice filled with unholy amusement, "is going to be my core memory of you, Zabini."
Hermione, who had just begun recovering from her initial Floo-induced trauma, took one look at Blaise's neon-green, half-dried face and completely fucking lost it.
Her entire body collapsed into uncontrollable laughter. "It's… it's the neon green for me," she wheezed, gripping her stomach.
Pansy joined in instantly, doubling over, wiping a completely fake tear from her eye. "You are stunning, darling. Like a very expensive Slytherin goblin."
Blaise looked five seconds away from committing murder.
Ginny, as if she wasn't the reason he was currently experiencing a complete mental breakdown, patted his arm soothingly. "Don't worry, tesoro. I'll make sure they never mention this again."
Blaise eyed her suspiciously. "Somehow, I doubt that."
Ginny only smiled sweetly. "Now, why don't you go check on the baby?"
Blaise, still visibly rattled, wiped his hands on his sweatpants and groaned in pure defeat. "Fine. But next time, WARN ME before your friends come bursting into my home like uninvited demons."
He turned to leave, but Luna, as composed as ever, smirked. "Oh, Blaise, do not talk to me about vulnerability. You personally witnessed me completely naked, mid-shag, with my husband. So spare me the dramatics."
Blaise recoiled. "Luna, WHY would you bring that up?!"
Hermione, who had just barely recovered from her laughing fit, had the unfortunate luck of hearing Ginny, completely nonchalant, add: "Well, Ferret saw me getting railed right on this dining table."
Silence.
Dead. Fucking. Silence.
Pansy's jaw hit the floor. "WHAT?!" she screeched, her voice an octave higher than usual.
Hermione sputtered, looking personally victimized. "On this dining table?!" she whispered, looking at the elegant, very expensive, very polished mahogany like it had personally betrayed her.
Luna, unphased, merely nodded. "Oh, that's… quite normal in my household."
Blaise, who had been mid-step toward the nursery, froze, turned right the fuck around, hands in the air. "GOODBYE, BITCHES. I'M DONE."
As he stormed off, muttering about zero privacy, uninvited house invasions, and needing a fucking drink, Ginny collapsed into absolute laughter, delighted by the chaos she had just unleashed upon the world.
Pansy, still looking deeply offended on a personal level, slowly turned back to Ginny, her nose wrinkled as if she had just been forced to endure some unspeakable trauma. "Honestly, Ginevra, there are BOUNDARIES. Some of us prefer to eat our meals at furniture that hasn't been defiled."
Ginny, still wiping away a tear of laughter, grinned without a single ounce of remorse. "Oh, come on—what's life without a little excitement?"
Luna, ever the ethereal optimist, clapped her hands together as if she had just witnessed a truly enlightening religious experience. "Well, I personally think this was a lovely visit. Very… illuminating."
Hermione, who looked several shades too pale, dragged a tired hand down her face, still processing the unholy violation of the dining table. "I am never sitting there again. Ever."
Ginny smirked. "Suit yourself." She took a leisurely sip from her wine glass before adding, "More room for me and Blaise."
Hermione whimpered.
Ginny, finally simmering down from her reign of terror, turned back to them, her smile softening just a bit. "But seriously," she said, her voice warm now, her teasing edge melting away. "What's up? What brings you all here?"
Hermione shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling a bit foolish for the way she had dramatically stormed in like she was on an Auror raid. She shot a silent glance at Pansy and Luna, clearly begging for backup, before clearing her throat. "We… we were thinking about you," she admitted, tucking a stray curl behind her ear, looking oddly vulnerable. "And we came to talk."
Pansy, already beelining for Blaise's bar cart like a woman on a mission, muttered under her breath, "I'm just here for the alcohol. Where's the good stuff?"
Ginny chuckled and wordlessly flicked her fingers toward the top shelf of the liquor cabinet. "Knock yourself out."
Luna, the only one remotely behaving like an actual adult, stepped forward with a gentle smile, her presence as calming as ever. "What Mimi's trying to say is… we miss you. And we wanted to see Valerius." She clasped her hands together, her voice kind but firm. "You've been on our minds. And we're here to make amends."
Hermione nodded quickly, her cheeks flushing slightly. "And I… I want to make things right between us."
Ginny blinked, clearly taken aback. The room stretched into a heavy silence, just long enough for Hermione to start visibly squirming under her gaze. Then, finally, Ginny exhaled, and to everyone's relief and minor shock, she broke into a warm, genuine smile.
"Thank you," she said softly, her voice tinged with something real, something unguarded. "That means a lot, coming from you."
Pansy, who was already pouring herself an obnoxiously large glass of firewhisky, sighed dramatically. "**Alright, now that we've gotten the mushy part out of the way—**where's the baby? I came to drink and judge Zabini's parenting skills."
Ginny rolled her eyes, grabbed a throw pillow from the couch, and hurled it directly at Pansy's head. "Vali is sleeping, you menace! You are not traumatizing him."
Luna giggled, ever the voice of reason. "He's not even two, Pansy. Give him a chance."
Pansy, unimpressed, swirled her drink with a bored flick of her wrist. "Fine. But for the record, I do miss you, Red." She paused, making a face like she'd rather eat nails than be sentimental again. "I'd just rather hex myself than say it out loud again."
Ginny grinned, stepping forward to pull Hermione and Luna into a tight hug. "You lot are ridiculous," she murmured, her throat tightening slightly despite herself. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."
Pansy, watching from the sidelines with her drink, lifted it lazily into the air. "To the unlikeliest and most dramatic friendships in wizarding history."
Ginny smirked. "And to never discussing Blaise's face mask again."
Luna sighed dreamily. "Oh, but it was such a lovely shade of green."
As the laughter finally settled into something comfortable, Ginny eventually cast a glance toward the dimly lit hallway, where the nursery was tucked away. Her expression softened, her fingers idly twirling her wine glass, lost in thought.
"You know," she murmured, her voice a touch quieter now, more contemplative, "Blaise has been telling me for months that I should just invite you all over. Said I'd regret it if I didn't."
Pansy, never one to let an opportunity for mischief pass her by, arched a perfectly sculpted brow, her lips curling in amused disbelief. "Wait, wait, wait—hold on. Are you telling me that Zabini—Mr. 'I Have No Emotional Investment in Anything'—was actually advocating for reconciliation?" She leaned forward, her dark eyes gleaming with scandal, her voice taking on a tone of pure mockery. "The same man who once said, and I quote, 'If it's not my problem, it's not my concern'? That Zabini?"
Ginny snorted, shaking her head, her smirk betraying just how ridiculous she found it, too. "Yeah, well, he's full of surprises, isn't he?" Then, turning to Luna with mock-seriousness, she added, "Speaking of surprises—you, my dear, are next in line for babysitting duty."
Luna, as if she had been waiting for this very moment, clasped her hands together in delight, her face lighting up like she had just been offered the greatest honor known to wizardkind. "Oh, I would love to! Babies are tiny vessels of curiosity and wonder." She sighed happily, her faraway gaze softening as she continued, "And I have been wanting to introduce Valerius to my collection of enchanted gemstones. He should be acquainted with the natural energies of the earth as soon as possible."
Pansy groaned, flopping back onto the couch like she was the tragic heroine in a dramatic stage play, one hand thrown dramatically over her forehead. "This is exactly why I don't babysit. I refuse to compete for attention with a teething child. Do you know how humiliating it is to be upstaged by a baby?"
Luna, completely unfazed, merely took a calm sip of her drink, her smile knowing, serene. "Pansy, please. You practically live at my house, babysitting Lysander and Seline." She tilted her head, watching Pansy over the rim of her glass. "You're obsessed. So, kindly, fuck off with your dramatic monologues."
Ginny cackled, crossing her arms, eyes dancing with mischief. "Parkinson, riddle me this: why are you in my house, drinking my firewhisky—which, by the way, I suspect you've corrupted into non-alcoholic swill?"
Pansy rolled her eyes, the deep, exhausted roll of someone forced to explain something painfully obvious to mere peasants. Swirling her drink for emphasis, she let the words drop like a bomb.
"Ugh, fine. I'm pregnant."
Silence.
The kind of silence that stretches too long, that settles too thickly, where every second is more unbearable than the last.
Pansy sighed dramatically, waving a lazy hand in the air like this was old news. "And since this is going to be my entire personality for the next eight months, I suggest you all get used to it." She took a measured sip of her wine-that-was-no-longer-wine, and muttered, "And for the record, I happen to like the little tingle non-alcoholic wine gives me." Then, narrowing her eyes at Ginny, she added, "Say something nice, Weasley."
Ginny blinked, momentarily caught off guard, before her face split into a wide grin. "Well, congratulations, Pansy! That's amazing news!"
Hermione, who had been sitting unusually still, suddenly cleared her throat, the action far too forced, her entire demeanor shifting. Her cheeks flushed as she smoothed nonexistent wrinkles from her skirt, fidgeting like she was about to confess something monumental.
"And, um…" she hesitated, voice just a bit too high-pitched, fingers twisting in her lap. "Draco and I… we're… well, we're planning to start a family soon, too."
Her words tumbled out all at once, like she had been holding them in too long, like she wasn't entirely sure what kind of reaction she was expecting.
The room froze. Again.
Ginny's grin faltered, just slightly, her gaze flickering over Hermione with something almost unreadable—nostalgia, warmth, maybe even something deeper. Then, with genuine sincerity, she murmured, "Oh, well—congratulations to you too, Hermione." A pause, a breath, a moment that stretched between them. Then, with quiet conviction, she added, "You and Draco… you're going to be amazing parents."
Hermione exhaled, her entire body relaxing, like she hadn't realized how much she needed to hear that until now.
Luna, ever the sensitive one, sensing the shift in the air, suddenly grabbed Pansy by the arm and started dragging her toward another room. "Come on, Sassy. We have much more interesting things to gossip about."
Pansy dug in her heels, like a stubborn hippogriff, glaring at Luna with outright betrayal. "But I want to stay and be part of the shouting! This is my evening too, Lovegood!"
"No. Absolutely not," Luna said, eerily calm, yanking Pansy along with mystical, otherworldly strength. "You're coming with me. Be a good girl now."
Pansy sighed like a woman carrying the weight of the world, casting one last, longing glance toward Hermione and Ginny, as if she were leaving behind a great battle. "Fine," she muttered, allowing herself to be dragged, "but I better get some actual gossip out of this, or I'm hexing you both in your sleep."
Luna merely patted her arm, her voice light, knowing. "Yes, yes. We'll find you some scandal."
They apparated away, finally landed on the living room. Luna shot her a sidelong glance. "Oh, stop this nonsense. I know you're dying to hear the shouting, but this is Hermione's moment. Give her some space."
"Fine," Pansy sighed dramatically, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "But seriously, do you think there'll be actual shouting? Because if Draco finds out Hermione announced their baby plans without him—hoo boy, I don't want to miss that explosion. I live for that drama."
She rolled her eyes fondly. "Definitely. Now, come on, let's give them privacy and focus on something less chaotic."
Pansy's smirk faltered slightly as they entered the next room, the playful gleam in her eyes replaced by something more serious. "Darling," she began hesitantly. "Do you think… do you think we'll ever have a fallout? Because you're my best friend, and honestly, I can't even—oh gods, babes—" Her voice wavered, and her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
She stopped walking, turning fully to face Pansy. Her expression softened, and she placed both hands on Pansy's shoulders. "Sassy, don't cry. Come here." She pulled Pansy into a tight hug, her voice soothing. "We will never have a fallout, you know that, right? You're my best friend, and nothing's ever going to change that."
Pansy sniffled against her shoulder. "But what if… what if one day you hate me? What if you leave, and all I have is Nevie, and I'll be alone and miserable and probably die in some ridiculous accident because I thought I could outrun a basilisk or something."
She pulled back slightly, holding Pansy by the arms. "For Merlin's sake, Pans, stop being so dramatic. You're not going to die alone, and I'm not going to hate you. You're just a little emotional right now."
"But what if—"
She cut her off, her voice deadpan. "If I didn't hate you when I found out you were secretly making poison for a living, why would I suddenly start hating you now?"
Pansy's eyes widened in panic, and she let out a strangled yelp. "HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?"
Luna raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Why does everyone always assume I'm oblivious? It's absolutely insulting. I can smell dark magic, you know. And every time you make one of your little concoctions, your face changes, and your demeanor gets all… broody. Also, Theo may have snitched a little when I asked too many questions."
Pansy's jaw dropped. "That sneaky little shit! Unbelievable!"
"Do not say things like that about my husband," she said primly, though her lips twitched in amusement.
Pansy huffed, wiping at her eyes as if annoyed by her own outburst of emotion. "Fine. But seriously, how long have you known?"
"Immediately. Like I said, you're not exactly subtle. Besides, we're friends. I pay attention."
Pansy stared at her for a moment, then shook her head, muttering, "I need better friends who don't go around figuring out my darkest secrets."
"You're stuck with me, Sassy," she said cheerfully, linking their arms. "And you know what? I think 'poison-making Pansy' has a nice ring to it. Very edgy."
"Oh, shut it, Lovegood," Pansy muttered, though she couldn't hide the small smile that crept onto her face. "I still deserve more wine after all this emotional turmoil."
"I'll get you some," she promised, dragging her toward the kitchen. "But only if you promise not to brew anything deadly for the next hour."
Pansy laughed softly, though there was a bitterness in her voice that matched the sharpness in her eyes. "No promises, babes. No promises." The words hung in the air, the weight of them almost more than they were meant to be. She tilted her head, watching Luna with a look that could've been curiosity or perhaps something more elusive. "So, are you not mad at me for, you know, hiding that from you?"
She didn't flinch, her expression steady and calm as she met Pansy's gaze. She let out a soft, almost indifferent breath before responding.
"All of us have secrets, Pans. We all do horrible things... or things we wish we hadn't done. I don't think I'm any different." The words hung in the air like they had the power to shatter the very world Pansy thought she understood.
Pansy raised an eyebrow, surprised by the tone of her voice, that undercurrent of resignation she could almost taste in the silence that followed. "Horrible things, huh?" Pansy mused, folding her arms across her chest. She leaned back, a trace of amusement curling at the corner of her lips. "Pray tell, what's yours?"
She was half-expecting her to deflect with one of her usual cryptic responses, or a whimsical remark that would send them spiraling into some other nonsensical conversation about bizarre creatures or otherworldly oddities. But Luna, in that moment, didn't play to her usual eccentricities.
She paused, her eyes darkening for a split second before her lips parted, as if she were speaking to herself more than to Pansy. "I killed my grandfather."
The words hung in the air for a heartbeat. Pansy's breath caught in her throat, the world around her freezing for just a moment. Her eyes widened, and she leaned forward instinctively, not sure if she had heard right. "Sorry?!"
Luna, unflinching, didn't meet her gaze at first. She was looking off into the distance, her face unreadable, as though what she had just confessed wasn't the bombshell it should have been. "Like I said, Pans. Everyone has secrets. I know I'll be judged when I die in front of my creator, but… I'm okay with it."
The room seemed to shrink, the air thick with the weight of her confession. Pansy was speechless for a moment, caught between disbelief and concern. Luna, the purest soul she knew, had done something so dark? The shock of it knocked the wind from her, and she found herself instinctively wanting to reach out, to hold her friend, to tell her that it wasn't possible.
But she wasn't finished, and it was like the floodgates were opening, each word like a rush of cold water to the face.
She turned to Pansy now, meeting her gaze without hesitation, her eyes steady but filled with a quiet, unspoken pain. "He was abusive toward my grandmother… toward my mummy. After they passed away, I couldn't take it anymore." Her voice was soft, but there was a certain finality to it that left no room for argument. "So I did it. I killed him . And I don't feel sorry for it."
Pansy's heart clenched at the words, and a pit opened up in her stomach. She could feel the weight of her confession pressing against her chest, the impossible gravity of it dragging her down into something far darker than anything she had ever expected to hear. She could never have imagined that the girl who lived in dreams, who was soft as the clouds and full of stars, could carry such a burden.
Pansy swallowed, her voice shaky as she leaned closer, all the teasing and deflecting gone. She could see it in her face now—the rawness, the lack of remorse that she wore like a second skin. "Oh, love… What… what happened?"
She closed her eyes briefly, exhaling a shaky breath as if she had only now fully let the words out into the open. "It's complicated, Pansy." She paused, her gaze flickering to the floor before looking back up. "I don't expect you to understand. Most people wouldn't." Her lips curled into a faint, almost bitter smile, but there was no joy in it. "I just couldn't take seeing him hurt them anymore. I couldn't stand the thought of him ever laying a hand on them again. After she was gone… it was like I couldn't keep pretending everything was okay. I had to protect them. I had to make it stop."
The words hung between them, the silence deafening in its weight. Pansy felt a lump form in her throat, her mind racing with a thousand questions, but there was no easy answer, no comforting words that could undo what had been done. And maybe that was the hardest part: nothing could change it .
"Luna…" Pansy whispered, her voice raw with empathy. She didn't know what else to say, and for the first time, she felt utterly helpless. Her usual sharpness, her usual bravado, didn't matter now. Nothing could fix this.
Sheshook her head, her eyes glistening with something that might have been regret, but more likely was the hard shell of someone who had buried the pain so deeply that it could no longer be reached. "It's okay, Pansy. I'm okay with it. I had to do it. I don't regret it."
The two women sat in silence for a long time, the world outside their small, dimly lit corner of the house feeling distant and far away. Pansy didn't know what to do, but she knew one thing for certain: Luna was right. Everyone had secrets. And some secrets were darker than others.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Pansy spoke, her voice quiet and sincere. "If you ever need to talk about it… I'm here."
She gave her a faint smile, one that barely touched the corners of her lips. "Thanks, Pans. I appreciate it." Then, she hesitated, her eyes glimmering with something almost fragile. "But you know… I think that's the last time I'll be talking about it. It's in the past now. It's just… something I live with."
Pansy nodded slowly, swallowing the lump in her throat. She reached out and placed a hand on her arm, the gesture quiet but meaningful. She couldn't fix what had happened, and she knew Luna didn't need her to. But she could be here. And for now, that was enough.
She sighed deeply and stood, her usual whimsical self beginning to return. "Anyway," she said, her tone shifting back to something lighter. "Enough of all this serious talk. We've got a baby to spoil, right?"
Pansy allowed herself a small chuckle, relieved to see the familiar sparkle returning to her eyes. "Right. Let's focus on the fun stuff."
And with that, the weight of the moment lifted, if only for a while. But the shadows of their shared truths remained, lingering in the space between them, and Pansy knew that no matter how much time passed,her secret would never leave her.
But in that moment, it didn't need to.