Art of Venom

Pansy was immersed in the familiar rhythm of her work, cloistered in her dimly lit study where shelves groaned under the weight of ancient books, and vials glistened with substances in every shade imaginable. Each vial held a fragment of a story she'd been weaving, darkly intricate and threaded with her unmistakable precision. She'd been mixing ingredients for hours, her concentration so intense that she barely noticed the occasional hiss and bubble from her cauldron.

The room held an almost reverent stillness, broken only by the soft scrape of glass against glass as Pansy carefully poured, stirred, and examined. Every drop, every grain had purpose, the meticulous craft of someone who understood the power and consequence of every element she wielded. She felt an odd calmness in this work, a kind of steady anchor in a life that otherwise felt unpredictable and vast. Here, in the quiet hum of her study, she found peace.

And then, the silence was broken by the sound of the front door opening. She stiffened, barely looking up as footsteps neared her door. A part of her felt strangely exposed; Neville rarely intruded upon her work in this particular room, understanding her need for privacy. Yet she heard his gentle voice from the doorway.

"Busy, I see," he murmured, his tone light as he leaned against the doorframe.

She exhaled, a little startled. "Neville," she said, placing down a vial with delicate precision, watching as the liquid inside swirled, dark and mysterious. "I didn't expect you home so early."

He walked into the room, his gaze moving over the neatly organized chaos on her worktable. It was a side of Pansy he found himself fascinated by—the calm yet fierce dedication she applied to her craft. "What are you working on, my bloom?" he asked, eyes twinkling, a small smile on his lips.

Pansy felt a brief tug of irritation, though it wasn't at him. "Oh… just… I mean, seriously, Neville?" she said, tilting her head, a spark of exasperation lighting her eyes. "You obviously know what I do."

"Not everything," he replied softly, glancing from her to the shadowy vials on her table. "But I want to."

The sincerity in his words made her hesitate. He had always respected her independence, her knowledge, and her skills. She had assumed he would be content with the mystique she wore like armor, but he surprised her now. She tried to gather her thoughts, her fingers hovering over the worn leather binding of a journal, searching for a response that would deflect him but wouldn't betray the turmoil she felt in letting him too close to her world.

"Do you need help?" he asked, voice soft yet direct.

She blinked, genuinely taken aback. The idea of Neville—her gentle, kind Neville—assisting her with something as shadowed and morally ambiguous as this was almost laughable. "Sorry?" she whispered, searching his face for signs of humor. She found none.

"Do you need my help or not?" he repeated, firmer this time, his gaze unwavering.

She looked at him, really looked at him, and for a moment she saw more than her husband. She saw the boy who had stood up against darkness, who had fought and bled for what he believed in, the boy who had grown into the man she loved. But that same man had a lightness within him that she had come to cherish—something she feared would be dulled if he ventured too far into her world. She shook her head slightly, voice barely above a whisper. "Love, you can't be involved in this. It's… it's too dark for you. Too dark for your soul."

"And it's not too dark for yours?" he countered, his gaze holding steady as his words cut through the air between them.

The question caught her off guard, and for a moment, her carefully constructed defenses wavered. It wasn't that she saw herself as any less deserving of light than him; it was simply that she'd learned to live without it. She met his gaze, her own eyes softening, vulnerable in a way she rarely allowed herself to be. "Neville," she began slowly, her voice thick. "It's not meant for you. My work—this part of me—it's… meant to stay in the shadows."

His hand reached out, covering hers, grounding her. "Maybe so," he murmured, "but it doesn't mean you have to face it alone. If this is part of who you are, then let me be here with you, even if only to remind you of what's waiting when you're done." His voice was gentle, full of that endless understanding he seemed to reserve only for her. "I don't want you to carry all this alone."

Her hand trembled slightly beneath his, and she looked down, feeling a rare sting of vulnerability. "I've done this for so long," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm used to it."

"That doesn't mean it's right," he replied, his tone soft but resolute. "And it doesn't mean you deserve it."

They stood there in silence for a moment, their hands entwined, the weight of unspoken emotions pressing around them. Pansy glanced at her vials, the dark substances within them representing the secrets she had guarded for so long. She wanted to keep Neville from this shadowed world, to shield him from the darkness that sometimes felt as though it was slowly swallowing her whole. But as she looked into his eyes, she felt the urge to share that weight, to let him in, just a little.

She inhaled deeply, steeling herself. "Neville," she began, struggling to find the right words. "What I'm doing here… it's not just some hobby or experiment. It's dangerous. It's… it's revenge. And sometimes it's justice. I don't want you to see that side of me. I don't want you to see the parts of me that enjoy it."

His hand tightened around hers. "I know what kind of person you are, Parky. And I know that whatever you're doing, it's with reason. Even if I can't be part of it, let me be with you through it." His gaze softened, a quiet intensity in his expression. "I didn't fall in love with half of you. I love every part of you, even the parts you think you have to hide."

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she hastily brushed it away, angry at herself for letting him see her like this. "You make it sound so easy," she murmured.

"Maybe it's not easy. But I'm not going anywhere," he replied, his voice steady, an unwavering promise in his words. "And if it means sitting with you in the dark from time to time, then I'll do it. Because I don't want you to have to face this alone."

For the first time, she allowed herself to feel the depth of his words, to truly absorb them. A warmth spread through her, melting the ice she'd so carefully built around her heart. She felt her defenses lowering, the walls she'd constructed around her secrets crumbling in the face of his quiet determination.

She took a deep breath, her voice trembling as she finally spoke. "I don't know if I can let you in… not completely. But maybe… maybe I can share some of it with you." She met his gaze, a flicker of fear and hope dancing in her eyes. "Just a little."

He smiled, a small, gentle smile, and brought her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "That's all I ask," he whispered.

In the dim light of her study, with vials of potions and tools spread around them, they stood together, a silent understanding growing between them. Pansy felt a sense of relief she hadn't realized she'd been yearning for. She hadn't expected him to walk into her world and find a place there, hadn't expected him to willingly embrace the shadows that came with loving her.

For the first time in what felt like ages, she felt less alone. And as she stood there, enveloped in his unwavering support, she knew that maybe, just maybe, she could learn to let him see the parts of herself she'd always kept hidden, to let him walk with her in the shadows—if only for a little while.

He took a steadying breath, looking at her with a gaze that held an unusual mix of vulnerability and fierce determination. There was something different in his eyes tonight, a depth that reached beyond words. He stepped close, their breaths mingling, and began to speak softly, his voice like a secret carried on the night air, "And if I may just take your breath away, I don't mind if there's not much to say. Sometimes the silence guides a mind to move to a place so far away."

He reached out, letting his left hand rest on her waist, feeling her body shiver under his touch. His words carried the rhythm of poetry, intimate and raw. "The goosebumps start to raise," he murmured, his voice rougher, deeper, "the minute that my left hand meets your waist." His gaze remained steady, tracing her every feature, holding her in place, seeing through her usual defenses.

He moved closer, his hand gliding up her back, feeling the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips. "And then," he whispered, bringing his face nearer to hers, "I watch your face." He reached up, trailing his fingers along her lips, brushing them with the gentlest of touches. She parted them instinctively, and he traced his thumb over her lower lip, his words resonating with a palpable, magnetic energy. "Put my finger on your tongue 'cause you love to taste."

The weight of his words lingered between them, and Pansy's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat as she met his gaze, which held a depth she hadn't seen before—a hunger, a fierce longing that echoed her own. Her pulse quickened, and for once, the guarded smirk she often wore faltered, replaced by something raw and vulnerable. She allowed herself to fully absorb the moment, a slow, seductive smile spreading across her face as she looked up at him through her lashes.

Without another word, he took her by the waist and lifted her effortlessly into his arms. She let out a small gasp of surprise, which quickly dissolved into laughter that he silenced with a gentle kiss pressed to her neck. He trailed more kisses along her jaw, his lips warm against her skin, a delicious friction as his stubble grazed her neck. She tilted her head, granting him access as he continued, each touch sending sparks through her veins. With a quiet, almost possessive intensity, he carried her through the hallway to their bedroom, never breaking contact with her skin.

Once they reached the bedroom, he placed her on the bed with a tenderness that belied the desire simmering in his gaze. He let his hands roam over her shoulders, his fingers brushing the fabric of her blouse. Taking his time, he traced his thumb along her collarbone, dipping lower as he slowly unbuttoned her top, his eyes drinking in every inch of newly exposed skin. His movements were reverent, almost worshipful, as though committing each inch of her to memory. His voice was thick with emotion as he whispered, "Bloom, you look so incredibly sexy when you work."

A warmth bloomed on her cheeks as he said it, the nickname he used—'Bloom'—taking on a new intensity tonight. His hands moved over her bare shoulders, his thumbs drawing slow circles on her skin as he leaned down to kiss her, softly at first, before the kiss deepened, growing bolder, more insistent. His lips traveled to the hollow of her neck, and he nibbled gently along her earlobe, drawing a sigh from her that he felt vibrate against his chest.

His hands moved lower, gliding over her curves, his touch firm yet careful, as though he were handling something precious. He took his time, each touch reverent and measured, leaving her feeling cherished and adored in a way she hadn't known she needed. The world outside faded to nothing, and they moved in rhythm, in sync, as though the very air between them pulsed with their desire.

With every lingering touch, every whispered word, Neville conveyed everything he couldn't express in daylight, everything that words failed to capture. He drew her close, tracing his fingers along her spine as he pulled her into him, letting her feel the heartbeat that raced beneath his skin.

She turned to him with a playful smile, voice husky and low. "Do I, really?"

His gaze darkened with intent. "Hell yes, you do," he growled, pulling her to him and capturing her mouth in a deep, consuming kiss. She responded eagerly, her hands roaming over his back, pressing him closer. She could feel his arousal against her thigh, and with a mischievous smile, she reached down, fingers tracing over him through his boxers.

"Mmm, someone's excited," she whispered, biting lightly at his earlobe.

He groaned, gripping her waist and pulling her onto his lap. "You have no idea," he muttered, his voice thick with need. She moved against him, feeling the delicious pressure between them, heat radiating from every point of contact. She reached down, slipping her panties off and casting them aside.

"Then what are you waiting for, Nevie?" she murmured, a challenge dancing in her eyes. "Take me."

He needed no further invitation, his hands gripping her hips as he moved against her, his breaths rough and heavy. Their rhythm was unrestrained, each touch and thrust speaking of an urgency they both felt, as if there wasn't a second to waste.

"Yes… yes, harder," she gasped, nails digging into his shoulders as he drove into her, meeting her every need with fervent intensity. Her moans grew louder, uninhibited, and as she called his name, the waves of pleasure crashed over her in uncontainable pulses, leaving her trembling in his arms.

Neville held her as she came undone, the pleasure drawing him into his own release, his body giving way as he buried himself in her, each movement leaving him breathless. They remained entangled, their breaths gradually slowing as the intensity faded into a soft, contented silence.

Finally, she laid her head on his chest, her voice soft and a little playful. "Yes, I think I do need your help, Nev."

He grinned, wrapping his arms around her. "Then I'll help you, love, with whatever you need. Just name it."

"Hmm… a new dog, maybe?" she teased, her eyes twinkling as she looked up at him.

Neville chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Just a dog? Are you sure that's all?"

Her gaze softened, a hint of something deeper flickering in her expression. She placed a hand gently on her stomach, hesitating as she met his eyes. "Maybe… a bit more than that. Like a little addition to our family," she whispered, her eyes searching his vulnerability and hope mingling in her words.

His expression softened, his heart swelling as he realized her meaning. "Pansy…" he murmured, awe and love filling his voice. He pulled her close, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Then let's make that happen, together."

She smiled, resting her head against his chest, their hands entwined as they shared a quiet moment of newfound anticipation for what lay ahead, each heartbeat a promise of the life they would build together.

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

The morning light poured into their bedroom, casting a soft, golden glow over Neville as he lay awake, unable to keep from smiling. She was curled beside him, her dark hair spilling over the pillow, her breathing steady and peaceful. He replayed her words from the night before in his mind, savoring each one like a secret only they shared. A baby. She wanted a family with him. 

His heart swelled, brimming with a joy so intense it almost felt unreal. He couldn't stop picturing it: Pansy with her hand on her belly, the way she'd look at him with that fierce, loving glint in her eyes. He imagined small hands reaching out, a little face with a nose like his or eyes like hers, maybe with Pansy's unruly hair. The thought made his chest tighten with a joy that felt as vast as it was daunting.

He glanced at her, marveling at the delicate rise and fall of her breathing, and his mind drifted to her other request. Pansy wanted a pug, too—a new little companion to join them, one who would trail at her feet as she worked her magic, a loyal, wrinkly little friend she could spoil as much as she liked. Neville could already see her lavishing attention on the puppy, calling it something ridiculously grand like "Sir Winston" or "Lady Barks-a-Lot" and treating it like royalty.

He carefully slipped out of bed, leaving her to sleep in a bit longer. After pulling on his shirt and trousers, he set about brewing some tea. He was lost in thought as he waited for the water to boil, the vivid picture of their life together expanding in his mind. He'd never imagined wanting this—wanting to be a father, wanting a house full of laughter and messy toys and love that filled every corner of their lives. But with her, it was impossible not to dream it all.

The sound of light footsteps pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see Pansy wrapped in a blanket, her sleepy eyes watching him with a soft smile. 

"Morning, love," he greeted, setting a cup of tea down for her as she settled beside him.

"Mmm, good morning," she murmured, taking a sip and glancing at him with a curious glint. "You're up early. Something on your mind?"

He chuckled, unable to contain his excitement. "Maybe a thing or two," he admitted, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. "I was thinking about what you said last night."

Her eyes sparkled as she looked up at him, a slow smile curving her lips. "Oh? The part about wanting a pug, or the part about… something bigger?"

"Both, actually," he replied, grinning. "I've been looking at pug breeders nearby. We could go this weekend, find one who's just as perfect as Lady."

Her laughter bubbled up, and she shook her head, clearly delighted. "I can't wait! Another little pug trotting around the house—I already love them." She leaned against him, her voice softening as she added, "But you know that's not all I want."

He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, his hand lingering at her cheek. "I know. The idea of starting a family with you… I can't believe how right it feels. I want this too. More than I ever thought I would."

A warm, quiet happiness settled between them, and she entwined her fingers with his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "I always knew we'd build something special, but I never thought I'd want it to be so… complete."

The two of them sat there in the kitchen, caught in the quiet beauty of a new dream they now shared, one made of soft pug snores, nursery rhymes, and the promise of a life they'd build together.

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

The weekend arrived, and she was practically glowing with excitement as they stepped out into the crisp autumn morning. She'd been talking about getting another pug all week, constantly throwing out potential names, each one more regal and ridiculous than the last. Neville found it impossible not to be swept up in her enthusiasm, even if he hadn't thought he'd ever find himself dog shopping on a Saturday.

Their journey took them to a small, charming countryside farm just on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, where a reputable breeder specialized in pugs. As they approached the cozy little farmhouse, surrounded by fields dotted with leaves in shades of amber and red, Pansy squeezed his hand, her eyes sparkling.

"Can you believe we're doing this?" she said, her voice brimming with childlike excitement. "Another pug! I'm already picturing her in a little coat, maybe with a bow…"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I can't believe I agreed to this, to be honest," he said with a teasing grin, watching the way her cheeks flushed with joy. "But I wouldn't be anywhere else."

As they entered the yard, a stout woman with rosy cheeks and gray curls greeted them warmly, introducing herself as Mrs. Wigglesworth, the breeder. "You're here to see the pups, then?" she asked, wiping her hands on her apron. "Come right this way. We've got a litter that's just the right age—sturdy little things."

Her face lit up as Mrs. Wigglesworth led them to an enclosed pen beside the farmhouse, where several small pugs were waddling around, their tiny tails wagging furiously as they tumbled over one another. She let out an audible gasp, pressing her hands to her mouth. "Look at them, Nev! They're perfect."

He watched her in amusement, his heart swelling as he saw her pure joy. She crouched down, reaching out as one of the pugs—a plump little female with a dark face and expressive, wrinkled brows—approached her with curiosity. Her face softened as she extended a hand, letting the tiny pug sniff her fingers before gently lifting her into her arms.

"Oh, Nevie, look at her! Isn't she just a beauty?" she cooed, cradling the pup against her chest as if she were holding something fragile and precious. The little pug looked up at her, blinking slowly, her round eyes seeming to study her face with equal fascination.

He knelt beside her, reaching out to scratch the puppy's ear, smiling as she let out a small, delighted snuffle. "She's definitely got some character," he agreed, laughing as the pug squirmed to nuzzle against his hand. "Looks like she's already fond of you."

"Oh, she's perfect," Pansy whispered, her voice filled with such tenderness that it made Neville's heart ache. "I think… I think we should call her Princess Peony. What do you think, Nev?"

He raised an eyebrow, stifling a laugh. "Princess Peony? You're already giving her a title?"

"Of course! She's going to be a little princess of Parkinson Manor," she said, nodding resolutely. "Plus, imagine calling her that when we're at the park. She'll be the most distinguished pug in all of England!"

Mrs. Wigglesworth chuckled from behind them. "I think Princess Peony suits her quite well. She's got a bit of spunk, that one. Smart, too."

She beamed, lifting Princess slightly so she could look the pug in the eyes. "You hear that, my little baby? You're coming home with us," she murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the pug's head. Princess responded with a tiny sneeze, her eyes half-closing in what could only be described as pure contentment.

They completed the paperwork, and Mrs. Wigglesworth handed them a small bag with essentials—some puppy food, a blanket that smelled like the pup's siblings, and a tiny leash with a matching collar. She accepted it all with utmost seriousness, her expression so full of delight that he couldn't help but feel grateful for this moment.

As they made their way back to Hogsmeade, Princess bundled comfortably in a blanket in her arms, they stopped at a little café for lunch. The pug curled up contentedly on her lap, snoring softly, her tiny body rising and falling with each breath.

He watched the two of them, his heart swelling with affection. "You know, I've never seen you this excited about anything. Not even during your last potion breakthrough."

She laughed, brushing a finger along the pug's wrinkled face. "There's just something about her, isn't there? She's going to make Lady Lemongrass' life a little more exciting."

"Or drive her mad," he added with a grin

"True. But I think they'll be inseparable in no time," she said, her eyes softening as she looked at him. "Thank you, Nev. For… for coming with me. And for always going along with my ideas, no matter how silly they may seem."

He reached across the table, taking her free hand in his. "Pansy, there's nothing I wouldn't do for you. Even if it means our house is filled with eccentric little creatures."

She squeezed his hand, her eyes gleaming with emotion. "Then let's fill it with love. And puppies, and maybe… a baby, someday?"

He nodded, his gaze filled with the promise of everything they had yet to build together. "I'd like that," he whispered.

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

They had barely set foot in the door when the Floo crackled to life, a swirl of green flames announcing Luna's face, alight with excitement. "Pansy! Guess what?"

She rolled her eyes, suppressing a smirk as she slumped against the armrest of the couch. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, Luna, can I have an hour's peace? I just became a mother."

There was a beat of silence on Luna's end, her eyes widening. "WHAT?!"

She let out an exasperated laugh. "Not that kind of mother. We brought home a dog—though if I ever do end up pregnant, rest assured, you'll be the first to know."

Luna's expression softened, a playful pout curving her lips. "You'd better keep that promise! Anyway, listen, there's some juicy news… Ginny left Blaise."

She raised her eyebrows, her surprise mingling with an almost triumphant satisfaction. "Well, it's about time."

"Pansy, really?" Luna admonished, though her amusement was evident. "Don't be so harsh."

"Oh, come on. Ginny's sweet, but she was never going to grasp our lifestyle. She has no clue what it's like, the things we've adapted to." She paused, a mischievous glint lighting her gaze. "Besides, Neville helped me make poison just last week. And look at you—still with Theo, madly in love as ever."

Luna tilted her head, her eyes twinkling with understanding but shaded with a touch of irony. "Maybe it says something about us. Stockholm syndrome, anyone?"

"Oh, shut it, Lovegood. Don't go all therapist on me now." she waved a dismissive hand, though her grin lingered. "Anyway, let's not make this about existential crises. Come over and meet Peony! You'll adore her—she's the definition of a pug princess."

Luna arrived not long after with Lysander balanced on her hip. The little boy's face lit up with delight when he spotted Princess, who promptly waddled over, her tiny, curly tail wagging with unrestrained excitement. In seconds, Lysander was giggling as Peony licked his fingers, the pair of them creating a picture of adorable chaos on Pansy's rug. Across the room, Lady sat in silent judgment, looking almost wounded as she watched her human bestie and her new "sister" share in the attention.

"Jealous much, Lady?" she teased, earning an indignant snort from the pug, whose attention seemed to focus accusingly on Lysader as if he was somehow responsible for this household upheaval.

"Oh, she'll come around," Luna said, nudging Pansy as she settled onto the couch. "Eventually, she'll realize Princess isn't a threat. Just an addition to the family—sort of like how Theo had to adjust to me and my creatures."

She laughed, reaching over to pat Lady's head. "If she's anything like her owner, she'll make Peony grovel for forgiveness first."

Luna gave her a sidelong look, playfully scolding. "Speaking of making others grovel, Theo mentioned that Blaise is practically having a breakdown."

Her expression turned amused, if not a little unsympathetic. "Doesn't he have one of those at least once a year? He practically locked Ginny in a tower, treating her like a delicate piece of glass. I hate to say it, but this one's on him."

Luna raised an eyebrow, clearly trying to stifle a laugh. "You're heartless."

"Fine, fine." she held up her hands in mock surrender. "I do feel bad for Ginny. Red's a fighter, but being pregnant on top of everything else must be overwhelming. Still, she knows as well as we do—she can't just leave forever. The soulbond that connects us to our partners isn't something we can just shake off. It's… forever, whether we like it or not."

Luna's gaze softened, though a hint of sadness crept into her smile. "Yes, I know, Pans. Believe me, I know. But Ginny struggles more than most with this whole… mafia thing." She glanced down, watching as Lysander tugged on Peony's ear with a squeal of delight. "Sometimes I think she'd be happier in a world without all of… this. Without the darkness that comes with loving someone like …you know..."

Pansy's jaw tightened slightly, her hands smoothing over the cushion beside her as though absorbing her unspoken frustration. "And what should I do about it, Luna? We are who we are, and Red is Red. She's a firebrand, always has been. But we—we're different. You adore Theodore, even though I'll never fully understand why, and you'd follow him to the ends of the universe. And me…" She paused, a soft smile breaking through her steely expression. "I love Nevie more than I've ever loved anyone, maybe more than I love myself. That's what soulbonds do to us."

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the only sound in the room being Lysander's giggles as Peony gently nudged him with her snout. Pansy's eyes softened as she watched her godson and her new dog playing together, a surprising warmth spreading through her chest. She could see in Luna's gaze that same fierce protectiveness she felt for Neville, a feeling of belonging and acceptance that she rarely allowed herself to acknowledge out loud.

Luna leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand, a pensive look crossing her face. "Sometimes, I think Ginny might need something else—a different way to come to terms with her new life. We've found our balance, you and I, even if it was a rocky path. But Ginny… maybe she needs to find her own strength, her own place in all this."

She arched an eyebrow. "Her own place? With Blaise? That's a hell of a thing to navigate, Luna. You and Theo have this… mutual understanding. And me and Neville? He's like my damn anchor. But Ginny's constantly fighting against herself, against Blaise's world."

Luna looked thoughtful, her eyes drifting to the warm light flooding the room. "Perhaps that's why she left. She needs to figure out what she wants, what she's willing to fight for—not just in this world but in herself."

She sighed, her gaze softening despite her usually brash demeanor. "I don't think she realizes yet what a soulbond really is. It's not just a magical string that ties us together; it's everything we are, our hopes and fears, our darkest parts… even the parts we hate to acknowledge. But in the end, it's also what saves us, keeps us steady."

Luna smiled gently. "You're more insightful than you let on, Pans. But don't let her hear that. You'd ruin your reputation as the resident heart of stone."

She smirked, giving Luna a playful nudge. "Oh, don't worry, babe. The heart of stone is firmly in place. But if Ginny wants to come over and talk, or yell, or whatever it is she needs to do, I'll listen." Her tone softened just a fraction, barely noticeable. "And if she needs someone to remind her what's at stake, well… I can be that someone too."

Lady Lemongrass let out an indignant bark, clearly displeased with the attention her new sister was receiving. Luna chuckled, shifting Lysander onto her other hip. "Looks like someone's got some competition for the throne."

Pansy shot her pug a fond look. "Lady is going to have to get used to sharing the spotlight. It's good for her." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "Maybe it's a lesson for all of us, really. How to share and adapt… how to let new things into our lives without feeling threatened."

Luna's gaze grew tender as she watched Pansy with a mixture of admiration and empathy. "You know, you're not half-bad at this whole wisdom thing, Pansy."

Pansy waved her hand dismissively, but a small smile tugged at her lips. "Don't get used to it. I'd rather leave the introspective nonsense to you."

"Ah, the ever-tough Parkinson armor," Luna teased, patting her on the shoulder. "But it's good to know that underneath, there's still a heart that cares. A lot."

She looked away, pretending to fuss over Lady, but Luna could see the slight redness in her cheeks. "Well, someone has to keep this madhouse together. Might as well be me." 

Just then, Peony pounced over to Lady Lemongrass, licking her on the nose. Lemongrass let out a confused grunt, as though completely unsure of how to respond, while Peony snuggled up beside her in playful defiance. Pansy watched them with a warm smile, sighing contentedly as the two pugs finally settled down together.

"See?" Luna said softly, watching the two dogs curled up, seemingly at peace with their new arrangement. "Maybe they're a sign for us. Things have a way of working out, even if it's not how we imagined."

Pansy nodded, reaching out to give Peony a gentle scratch behind the ears. "You're right. Somehow, we'll all find our place. Even Red… she just has to be willing to let herself belong."