A/N: Originally posted on LJ and AO3. My mind tells me a drabble is 100 words, my heart tells me it's more. One day I'll get it right xD
Melting by KatieFlint
It's snowing heavily when Neville trudges through the hut's humble front door. He stops in the mudroom to remove his gear and shake the snow from his hair. It's grown long over the winter, to keep his already red ears warmed from the chill of constantly traveling to and from the green houses.
Pansy actually likes his hair like this, shaggy and unkempt in the mornings (and sometimes the evenings). She likes playing with it when he rests his head in her lap to read after super, and she likes the feel of it brushing softly against her neck as he wakes her lovingly each and every morning.
If someone had once tried to tell her, Pansy Parkinson, that she'd come to enjoy the company of Neville Longbottom in any manner; she would have laughed most cruelly. Probably right in their face, no doubt.
But now, after years of changes to her character, her person, and the world around her; fate has seen to it that she's in love with him.
Never what she expected, Pansy often remarks what a Gryffindor he is; but it's fondly. It's the Gryffindor inside him she fell for, and it's the snake inside of her that consumed him with its amour. It wasn't forbidden, a relationship between rivals of both house and war; but it was clear how some felt about it.
How fortunate for them, that neither Pansy nor Neville ever truly cared to hear what those others had to say.
Neville's ears are redder than usual, Pansy notes as he comes to sit beside her on the sofa, but he seems pleased enough, if his smile is any indication of his mood. And it usually is. The plants are doing well, and he's not shy about his passion for them.
He tells her everything, and she listens, patiently. Neville likes to talk, it helps him to wind down. Even if he's been playing with his plants all day, most of them don't make for particularly good conversationalists and Pansy senses even he gets lonely among them sometimes.
Pansy, who spends her days in a reporter room arguing her opinions without rest, finds great comfort in the roll of his voice and the ease of his conversation. She laughs, but only when the jovial feeling truly strikes her, which is often around Neville.
A slight frown mars her unbridled delight; Pansy notices the snow has stopped. She waves her wand unnoticed toward the window and the white flakes begin to fall again, heavier a thicker than before.
"Looks like we might have to take the day off tomorrow…" Pansy says coolly, holding back the mirth that's building inside.
Neville looks to the window, surprised but not upset. He could've sworn it was lightening earlier…
"Huh, we just might," he agrees, returning his gaze unto her. There's a smile there, almost as though he knows what she's up to, but he never says anything. And Pansy won't be telling.
Gods, she's missed her husband.
End
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