A/N: This was written for a challenge from a friend. A one-shot starring Neville Longbottom and Pansy Parkinson, with the phrase "Is that a hallucinogenic toad?", Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Neville OR Pansy. And I also don't own any pink high heels. Have we come to an understanding, then?

~*~ Stiletto Heels and Splattered Amphibians ~*~

Potions came right before Herbology, and Neville couldn't get to the greenhouse fast enough. It was the polar of hell and heaven; moving from the depths of despair to...

Ah screw it. There was no point in the mashing the metaphors or... whatever it was. All that mattered was that he was here. In his element. In the one place where he could be looked at as something less than completely incompetent.

Neville clipped the wilted leaves off the Candycane plant in front of him, his tongue between his teeth, his brow furrowed slightly in concentration. The pruning had to be very carefully done: ONLY the brown spots on the red and white leaves must be cut out. Any vital branches cut off, and the candycanes that grew after the plant flowered... would be undersized, tiny. It would be a terribly sad thing for Christmas...

Trevor the toad, sitting still (for once) on Neville's shoulder (and getting splashed occasionally with red Candycane sap from Seamus Finnigan's rather... exuberant pruning), croaked as the sound of clicking high heels (how the DEVIL did high heels CLICK in peat-moss-enriched soil, anyway?!) approached Neville from behind.

The boy froze, and carefully set down his shears to face the unknown adversary who had so deviously snuck up on him (or would have, had it not been for the ridiculous clicking-sound-charm-enhanced high heels that she had been wearing).

And he cringed at the face he saw.

Pansy Parkinson, Slytherin girl. A haughty expression on her face and pink crystal earrings like miniature chandeliers drooping out from underneath wings of perfectly-coiffed dirty blonde hair. She wore pink high heels too... with heels that looked quite capable of poking someone's eyes out with. Well. If she took them off or something. Or perhaps kicked really high...

He gulped. What could SHE want?

Pansy gave him a long, lazy once-over, and in an aristocratic, silky drawl, remarked, "What IS that, on your shoulder, boy?"

Neville blinked, not recalling have put anything on his shoulder. OH GOD, DID SOMEONE PUT SOMETHING ON HIS SHOULDER WHILE HE WAS NOT LOOKING?!?

But the thing in question croaked at that moment, and Neville was slightly relieved. "Er, that's Trevor. My toad."

Pansy wrinkled her somewhat upturned nose at this answer, and stared at the festive-looking, red-splattered green amphibian for a moment. "Is that a hallucinogenic toad?"

Neville found himself at a loss. Hallucinogenic? Hallucinogenic?! "Hallucinogenic... how? Do you mean to ask if Trevor is hallucinating? Or you are hallucinating? Or I am hallucinating?"

Pansy smirked at this, and raised a meticulously plucked eyebrow. "I don't know. You tell me. ARE you hallucinating?"

Trevor gave a discontented croak as Seamus splashed him again, practically slashing one candycane leaf in half to watch these proceedings. Neville merely looked at the ground, a troubled expression on his face.

"I might be hallucinating," he finally said, seriously.

Pansy laughed, a deep, husky sound, and her smirk widened. "And what brought you to THAT conclusion?"

Neville threw his hands in the air, and stared at the girl with wide eyes. "You... you're here, standing in death-by-pink-spike shoes, and inquiring about a TOAD! Wouldn't YOU be thinking that you're hallucinating, too?" And then, his face took on a look of horror as he realized what he'd just said.

Pansy only laughed harder. "No. I came only to see what the curious object was, on your shoulder."

"And why might you want to do that?" Neville ventured cautiously. It was becoming increasingly surreal, this conversation. If it weren't for the fact that he knew he was completely incapable of dreaming up a sound that was EXACTLY like a certain Irishman, sniggering next to him, Neville might have started muttering about waking up, alarm clocks, and evil sandmen.

"Wanted to find out where I could get one," Pansy shrugged expansively, her voice airy. Evidently, SHE saw nothing strange in this exchange.

"...Why?"

"To somehow throw into Goyle's pillow. Then blame Crabbe," Pansy answered breezily. "It's oh-so-hard to interrogate one's best friend about some recently-acquired, blackmail-worthy information... when there are two oversized lunkheads that smell like trolls and REFUSE to bathe in jasmine essential oils... lurking about. And what better way to get rid of them... than to have them kill each other?"

But Neville was already slowly backing away. "There's no place like home... there's no place like home... there's no pla--"

The evil pink high heels of d00m evidently did nothing to deter Pansy's walking speed, and she advanced upon him. "You haven't answered my question yet," she remarked haughtily. "Where do I get one?"

Neville shook his head mutely, then gave a slight shout as his foot got caught in a vine and he tripped, landing in a heap at her feet. She was wearing silk stockings with the evil pink shoes.

Now the whole CLASS was watching in fascination.

Pansy Parkinson gracefully stooped, using one manicured hand to pull the boy up by the arm. The other... was holding the blinking, red-and-green toad. A weirdly triumphant sort of expression was on her face.

"Well then. I'll just borrow it for a spell," she remarked, placing the toad in her pocket and immediately sealing said pocket with a spell that allowed nothing but air to escape. At Neville's alarmed look, she purred, "Don't worry. I'll be sure to cast an Unbreakable Charm on the thing before depositing it where it must go. Thanks for the loan, by the way." And then, reaching over, she kissed the air by his cheek.

He might or might not have turned an unbecoming shade of burgundy.

"... I didn't... I..."

"Hah. Daft Slytherins," Ron Weasley was heard muttering as Pansy sailed off past him.

Pansy paused, and deliberately turned to smirk at him.

"I wouldn't say that Slytherins are the ONLY daft ones..." she said airily, "I'm sure that SOMEONE you might know quite well finds the species rather strangely appealing. But then again... it MIGHT just be rumour."

As Ron puzzled to figure this out, Pansy Parkinson disappeared off to the other end of the greenhouse, hidden by hanging Brandyvines.

And Neville gulped, returned to his Candycane plant, and hoped against hope that he might blend in and be invisible, now flashing red embarrassment and white shock...