Holly Jolly
"A bit too…festive, don't you think?" the mirror simpered.
"Nobody asked you," Pansy Parkinson grumbled back, but she ceased dabbing colour on her lips and stashed the small pot in her handbag. She smoothed her short cap of dark hair and then craned her neck forward and blinked into the mirror, looking for imperfections. She found none. She was elegant. She was warm, yet she was refined. She was festive. She was not too festive. She glanced at the clock on the wall and compressed her lips in irritation, unmindful of how she was ruining her own handiwork. "Neville, it's time to go. Neville? Neville!" she screeched. Her heels clicked sharply on the hardwood floor as she stomped across the living room and peered into the bedroom. He was seated on the corner of the bed. "What in Merlin's name have you been doing in here?" she snapped. "You don't even have your shoes on! Would it kill you to get somewhere on time for once in your life?"
"Sorry," he muttered, patting his chest and finding his tie dangling from his neck. He slid his hands up each end and then crossed the two ends over each other.
"I am going to throttle you," she moaned. "Move faster. You've worn a tie for years and years – surely you learned how to tie them quickly, late as you always are?"
"Ease up, would you?" he sighed. "Dinner's not for another two hours."
"Hour and a half," she countered, hands on her hips. "This is important, Neville! I want you to take this seriously! You're going to meet everyone tonight, my whole family, and I want you to make a good impression. You don't want them to think you're always late, do you?"
"I am always late." Pansy's blood pressure ratcheted up another notch as she realised he was still tying his tie.
"I can't believe we're having this conversation."
"Neither can I." Mercifully, he'd moved on to his shoes.
"Can't you wear your new shoes instead?"
"No," he said stubbornly, not even pausing in his movement (Pansy supposed she should've been grateful for this small favour). "They make my feet hurt."
"Well, if you'd just wear them more, they'd – never mind." She snatched his coat from the closet and held it out to him. "Let's go."
He looked at the coat, then down at his hands. He didn't move. Pansy fought the urge to scream. "There's somewhere I need to go before we go to your folks' house," he said finally. Her vocal cords tensed in preparation. "It won't take long. Would you come with me?"
Now it was her turn to sit motionless. "Is this what you think of my family dinner?" she asked, her voice raspy with the effort it took to keep it under control. "Is this how little you care whether or not...." She swallowed the rest of the sentence, and the effort made tears spring momentarily to her eyes.
"It's really important." He was looking at her full on now, and Pansy was taken aback at his expression, mingled guilt and desperation with some pain mixed in.
Something was very wrong. Pansy could feel it in her bones. She flung the coat on the bed and crouched in front of him. "Neville," she breathed, laying her hand on his knee, "what's happened?"
"Nothing," he said quickly, his raw moment hidden away. "I just need you to come with me. I swear, it'll only take a few minutes."
Pansy sighed. She would've pressed her hand to her eyes for effect, but she didn't want to smudge her kohl. "You've got rubbish timing, but alright, we'll go. Don't say I never do anything for you."
He pressed a quick kiss to the back of her hand as she stood. "Thank you." Pansy couldn't help but notice how much faster he moved as he shrugged into his coat.
"Where are we going?"
"Could you please just trust me?"
He looked so old all of a sudden. "Of course I trust you, Neville," she said quietly. "You're just being so mysterious."
He actually flinched at that. "I'm sorry. Let's just go."
"Okay." She touched his shoulder as he passed and he grabbed onto her fingers with his opposite hand and squeezed. When it came down to it, Pansy had to admit that Neville didn't usually ask for much, and he'd promised that it wouldn't take long. Still, if this wasn't as important as he said it was, there would be hell to pay.
"Gilderoy Lockhart!" Pansy's exclamation was breathy and high-pitched as she clutched Neville's elbow in excitement. "How did you know? This is the best Christmas present ever! Especially if you got me that choker, too." Neville had Apparated them to a perfectly pleasant atrium in St. Mungo's Hospital.
"Keep your voice down!" Neville hissed. "We're not here to see him. We're here to see my parents."
Pansy turned away from the window through which she had been observing her former professor, who seemed to be conducting high tea with a grouping of photographs. "Your...." Now she was truly frightened. "Neville, your parents are...well, they're dead." She hated seeing the flicker of pain that crossed his face when she said the words.
He stared at his shoes. "I never said that," he muttered.
"But...your parents aren't alive," she said uncertainly. "If they were, surely you would've...of course you would've told me that. Because...really? Your parents are alive?"
He nodded.
"Are you trying to tell me you let me think you were an orphan all these years?" she whispered furiously, mindful of passers-by giving the couple curious looks. "You're embarrassed by me still, after all this time? Why is it okay for me to meet your gran, but not your parents? Here I am, trying to introduce you to my entire family, Neville, all of them...is that why I'm finally good enough to meet your parents? You know, it wasn't that I didn't want you to meet everyone, it's just a logistical problem to get all the cousins together, but you-"
"Bloody hell, Pansy," Neville muttered back, staring intently into her eyes, "have you gone completely round the bend? Is this really how self-centred you are? We're in a hospital!"
"What are you talking about? Hey!" she yelped as he fairly hauled her forward through another set of doors. "Don't think you can just ignore this conversation! Who waits until their parents are in the hospital to introduce them to their girlfriend? How rude! I'm starting to feel like I don't know you at all!" she cried.
"Likewise," he snapped. "You promised," he added.
"Happy holidays, Neville!" a mediwitch sang out from a desk. "How's your gran?" Pansy held her tongue. His parents must've been here for a while if the mediwitch knew him by name. Weeks, even. When did he find time to visit? Why hadn't he taken her? Why hadn't she met them before?
"Fitter than ever, I'd say," he replied pleasantly. Pansy gritted her teeth. "Happy holidays, Marguerite."
Neville frog-marched her down the hallway. With a meaningful glare at her, he opened a door and ushered her into another room. It was a ward decorated with holly and mistletoe, but even the gay red ribbons threaded through the vegetation couldn't mask the bleak feel of the place. Wan patients were stretched out on their beds, staring at the ceiling, or engaged in various bizarre tasks. One corpulent witch was arranging Gobstones in an intricate pattern, and an old wizard drew his outstretched arms in sweeping motions as if he had a wand. Pansy shuddered the dismal scene before her.
Neville left Pansy's side and strolled to the other end of the long room. Pansy shrank against the wall, but none of the patients paid her any mind. Neville stopped at a bed with a pallid man laying on his back, unblinking. "This is my dad, Pansy," he said, his voice wavering a bit. "His name is Frank."
Oh God.
As he spoke, a thin woman with scraggly white hair struggled slowly out of a tattered armchair, as if Neville's voice had brought her out of a daydream. "This is my mum, Alice," he said as she began shuffling towards him absently, staring into the distance.
Ooooooh God. Pansy didn't even trust herself to speak as Neville looked over to the terrifying woman. "Hi, Mum," he said with a perfect, benign smile, but she didn't so much as look at him. He held out his hand and the spectre put something in his palm. It looked like a crumpled bit of paper. "Thanks, Mum. Happy Christmas. Where are you going?" he asked, his voice the gentle singsong of someone humouring a toddler. "Do you have more for me? Are you going for a walk? I'm going to sit with Dad for a minute, okay? Pansy," he said in a lower, more strained tone, his eyes begging her to understand, "do you want to join me?"
"Uh..." Her throat was completely dry. "I've got to go to the loo." His face fell and she looked away with a lump in her throat. She backed out of the room and once she was safely out of sight in the hallway, she sagged against the wall. Don't cry, she ordered herself fiercely. Do NOT cry.
Neville's parents were feeble.
That's why he'd hidden them from her, from everyone. He didn't want people to know how weak his bloodline was. DO NOT CRY. His grandmother seemed fine! What had happened?
She couldn't remain outside while Neville was in there, but how could she go back in, knowing what kind of family he came from? How could she take him to her family now? The Parkinsons didn't take kindly to weakness. She'd been with Neville for some years now. Oh, the humiliation.... What was she going to say?
Pansy inhaled deeply. An astringent hospital smell filled her nostrils, and with it came a flash of clarity. It didn't matter what her family thought. Neville was a wonderful man, and she was proud to be with him. She loved the way he blushed when she teased him, the wonderful meals he made, how supportive he was of her career, the look of rapt attention he got on his face when he was studying his plants, the way he'd sneak up behind her when he was feeling mischievous and drag her into the bedroom…. She loved him, period. She didn't even care if he ended up like his parents eventually. In the meantime, there was no one she'd rather have at her side.
Something brushed her shoulder and she looked up to find that dreadful woman – Mrs. Longbottom – in the hallway beside her. "What are you doing out here?" Pansy mumbled.
Mrs. Longbottom didn't respond. Pansy hadn't expected her to. The woman stared right past her at nothing in particular, then held out her hand. Something was crushed in her fingers. Remembering Neville's earlier actions, Pansy extended her open hand tentatively.
Two leaves of holly were deposited in her palm. "That's, uh...thanks," Pansy said, feeling a bit silly for talking to someone who clearly wasn't interested in listening to her. "You should probably go back to your room." She managed to corral her from continuing down the hallway and ended up guiding her by her bony elbow back to her room.
She could hear sound coming from the ward and hoped fervently that the patients weren't restless. After a second, she recognized Neville's voice.
"…came here," she could hear him murmuring. "I'm going to ask her to marry me, Dad, I was going to ask tonight but then I realised I couldn't do it without her knowing…well, knowing everything about me. And I wanted you to meet her. She's miffed at me right now 'cause I'm making her late, but I think you would have liked her. Well, eventually. I've bollocksed this all up. I couldn't think of a way to tell her beforehand."
Pansy was still hovering in the doorway as Neville trailed off, still oblivious to her presence. Her heart was racing, and she belatedly realized that she was squeezing Mrs. Longbottom's elbow tightly, although the woman gave no sign of discomfort. Married! She'd always hoped, of course, and they'd been together long enough, but she'd figured she would have to drop many more less-subtle events before...married! To Neville! She could design her own dress! She leaned over to Mrs. Longbottom the same way she used to sidle up to Daphne Greengrass at Hogwarts when she had a juicy tidbit of gossip. "I love your son!" she breathed in her ear. "Your mum found me in the hallway, Neville," she called out.
He looked up abruptly, guiltily, but as soon as he saw her, his expression turned stricken. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," she replied, confused.
"Your makeup," he said, touching his own cheekbone. Pansy mimed his action and came away with a black fingertip. Oh, dammit, she'd cried. Neville hung his head. "I shouldn't have brought you here."
"No," she said, scrubbing beneath her eyes with a handkerchief. "It's not that…I was just thinking about you."
"It's not inheritable," he whispered furtively. Pansy didn't understand the need for secrecy; it wasn't like anyone else in the room was listening to them. "Their illness, I mean," he said when she didn't respond. "Bellatrix Lestrange did this to them when I was a baby."
"You always said she killed them."
"Well, they're not much alive now, are they?" he asked bitterly.
She flung herself into his chest and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm glad you killed her," she said, the words coming out low and fierce. "It's awful, what she did."
He shrugged. "If I didn't, someone else would've."
"Why didn't you tell me?" She sounded whiny to her own ears.
"I didn't know how. And I didn't want you to feel sorry for me, like you are now. When I was younger, I was ashamed of them. I didn't want to be the boy with the dotty parents. But then, with the war…well, I was proud of them then, because I could understand how this could've happened, but I'd let things go too long, you know? Please don't cry."
Oh no; she was crying again, this time onto his coat. "I just love you so much," she choked, beginning to sob in earnest. "It's not fair. So-sorry…."
"It was an awful thing to spring on you at Christmas," he admitted.
"No! Best present!" Well, aside from the promise of a wedding. "You trust me!"
"I always have. From the very first time you kissed me. I'm sorry it took me this long." He gave her a final hug. "We'd best be on our way. I don't want to make us even later."
"Doesn't matter."
"What have you got there?"
Momentary confusion dried up Pansy's remaining tears, and then she showed him the holly leaves. "Your mum gave them to me," she sniffled.
He smiled broadly. "Really? She must like you."
"I'm glad." She stuck them under her headband and struck a pose. "How do I look?"
"Very festive. And beautiful."
Despite his earnest expression, Pansy knew he was lying; her face was all blotchy and her eyes were probably red. She'd have to fix herself up before arriving home in such a state. For the moment, she simply held her handkerchief to her nose and blew in a most unladylike fashion. "Let's say a proper goodbye to your parents before we go. I have to thank them for having such a wonderful son."