Disclaimer: I do not own anything, surprise surprise. . . All Characters and plot ideas belong to JKR. I'm just taking them for a spin.
Warning: This story will contain swearing and sexual content.
Now that my Dramione is finished, I figured I'd start posting my new Pansy/Neville, which I still maintain should be called Nevinsy (my OTP)! The prologue is short, the chapters are longer. This story will be mostly upbeat, fluffy, a little romance drama, nothing to heavy. And hopefully very sexy. (wink wink). If you see any grammar mistakes, drop me a message, let me know so I fix it! Read and Enjoy!
Verbena and Lemongrass
Prologue
Ginny Weasley pushed through the door with both hands, leaning her weight into the heavy wood as she did, and left the chilly winter climate outside where it belonged. A happy and familiar brassy bell sounded out and she took a look around. The inside of the Three Broomsticks looked much the same since the last time she had stepped foot in the inn and pub, dark wood panels and the long mirror behind the bar, the warm atmosphere and the smell of whiskey and peanuts and butterbeer. Cozy booths and small high top tables invited couples to sit closer and the bar offered quick service when you were in need of a drink. It was familiar and warm, and her gaze lingered on her own reflection as it showed her in a long brown cloak with simple leaf brooch at the neck, a gift from her mother the day she turned 17, and her flame bright red hair showing under the hood. She brushed off the snow from her shoulders and stomped the ice off her boots before she looked back up to the mirror.
She only let her gaze linger a second before she searched the bar for her idiot of a best friend. A group of middle aged witches sat around a table laughing and happily singing carols between their sips of brandy and rum, a couple cuddled happily in the corner, and- ah there he was. Hunched over, disheveled, and - ugh - reeking of alcohol sat her very best of friends: Neville Longbottom. She walked up and pulled her wand with confidence, muttering a quick Augamenti, and watched happily as a swell of water poured from her wand over the wizard.
He sputtered and coughed, hollering out a "Bloody hell!". She allowed him a moment to recognize her, his eyes blinking and full of crust. His face was red from the warmth of the pub and, no doubt, mad consumption. Before he could utter another drunken word, the bell rang again, the sound of the front door thumping shut brought a strange hush to the room, but did nothing to take away from its warmth. Ginny turned on the spot, wand at the ready and willing to have even a drunk Neville at her back over a stranger, but relaxed when she recognized Harry Potter and her big-headed brother Ron under their snow dusted winter cloaks.
"Hey Gin. Thought it was our turn to pick him up?"
They had only just discussed it earlier that night over dinner at the Burrow that it was her turn to take Neville home from his daily binge. She gave her brother the best look of exasperation she could before turning back to Neville. "Nev - C'mon, let's get you home."
"No!" he shrugged off her touch and cradled his whiskey between his hands. "Not finished w' my drink…"
Ginny had hoped tonight wouldn't be one of the difficult nights, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that Neville was going to be exactly that: difficult. She turned back to Harry and Ron expecting them to lend a hand, only to see Ron shrug.
"Nightcap Harry?" he asked.
Ginny huffed and turned back to Neville. "C'mon Neville, it's time to go home. Madam Rosmerta only puts up with you because Hannah used to work here. I suppose she had expected to you properly bathe though…"
"Don't! Don't say her name…." Neville told his drink, his eyes drooping.
Curse the day Hannah Abbott channeled her inner Gryffindor and stepped between two feuding bar guests. They were drunk, she should have just let them beat each other up a bit and then thrown them in the cellar to sleep it off. Instead she got a hex to the side of her head and broke her fool neck.
That had been four months ago, a bare few months after the Battle of Hogwart's, and Neville had since been found every night in the company of cheap firewhiskey and a distraught Madam Rosmerta. Ginny thought him to be getting better, but then his Gran had passed away suddenly on Christmas Eve. With that cheerful thought, she reached for his mostly full whiskey glass and shot it back.
"There, your drink is finished. Pay your tab, and let's get you home." she insisted, signaling to the Madam for the check.
"No!" he shouted stubbornly, clutching the empty glass in his hand so tightly it shattered.
"Damn you Neville, you're acting only slightly more mature than Ronald right now." Ginny snapped, waving her wand to clear the harmful shards of glass. She ignored Ron's impassioned "Oy!" from the other side of the bar and examined Neville's wound.
His hand sported tiny cuts but the bleeding was minimal. She leaned over it, gripping his wrist tightly. "Ferula!"
Bandages shot from her wand and wrapped themselves neatly around his hand and fingers. Instead of thanking her, he grunted and lifted his head to the Madam. "'Nother round o' drinks for the lads, Rosie."
"Neville Longbottom! You are on my last nerve! I'm taking you home, now!" Ginny snapped and gripped the front of his dirty shirt with both hands. She hauled the man to his feet, barely. He stood half a foot taller than her and wavered dangerously as he tried to find his footing. She looked around for Harry and Ron, feeling agitated when she spotted them laughing over drinks and having a merry good time while she had to deal with Neville in his intoxicated state.
"No!" he shouted again. "I got nothing - hic - left! No Gran. No girlfriend… hic!"
He stumbled into his chair pathetically, nearly toppling it over and him with it. "Neville!" Ginny held him up right only just. "You do too have someone! You have me you big lumbering moron! Your best friend!"
And while she completely understood his loss, she could also understand how his was different. They had all lost someone in the war. Hannah had survived only to be killed by accident. It wasn't fair, not one bit.
His gaze met hers and for the first time that night he seemed to see her. "Gin?"
"Yeah, it's me you idiot. How would Hannah feel if she saw you like this? She'd think you pathetic! And that's the truth!"
"I…"
"Neville!"
"I can't go on, I can't move on… hic."
"Yes you can, one day, maybe not soon… but you'll be able to move on, I promise." she cooed at him, relieved her words were finally starting to get through.
His smudgy blue eyes shimmered with tears and he desperately needed a shave and a thorough moment with his toothbrush, but she didn't turn her face away. He swallowed once and started sobbing.
"I'll never get over her, Gin."
Sensing his defeat, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and Apparated him to his family home thinking Harry and Ron could bloody well deal with Neville's tab.
oOoOo
At the same time, in the dark of winter night, Pansy Parkinson stepped out of Gringott's Wizarding Bank with a pouch full of unfamiliar currency tucked safely into her black tunic. Her winter cloak was heavy and expensive, the fabric rich and smooth to the touch, with fine threads of gold and silver threaded in intricate designs along the edge of her hood and down the front. The brooch at her neck was gold, shaped into a delicate flower - a Primrose - with tiny diamonds embedded to give it a shine, and let everyone know she was made from money. It was a gift from her mother when she turned 17. Her hair was done in perfect black ringlet curls that fell down her back and flooded over her shoulders effortlessly.
She had barely stepped outside of the bank when the goblin that had escorted her during her visit, a nasty little thing named Berfk, literally shut the door on her heels. She indulged herself in a eye roll, while admitting to herself he was probably quite upset at her for emptying her vault, converting the gold, and waiting until almost closing to do so.
But she couldn't be seen, hence the late hour. Diagon Alley was mostly empty of foot traffic, only a few bar patrons making their way down Knockturn Alley for a drink or two while they were still on holiday could be seen.
Still, Pansy lifted her hood over her head and hid her face, checking to be sure her pouch was still tucked safely in her tunic, and securing her wand in it's rightful spot in her sleeve. If anyone tried to accost her while she made her escape, she would be ready.
Her fashionable boots made click-click-click sounds down the steps of the grand bank, but it was the only sound that could be heard. She turned her head towards the street that would take her to the Leaky Cauldron, steeled her breath, and made her way quickly and as quietly as she could. When the brick came in sight, she paused, looked around and made sure she was still alone even as her body trembled to be out of Diagon Alley as quickly as possible. When nothing jumped out at her, when no shadows moved ominously, she stepped into street light and lifted her wand. A few taps later, and she was hurrying through the door and into the Inn. No one stopped her. No one noticed her.
The front door creaked loudly as she opened it, and still no one even knew she was there. She took a deep, deep breath. Her feet froze to the ground even as her mind urged her to continue.
"Just breathe, Pansy Parkinson." she told herself, picturing her Mother, Peony, in her mind. The template from with Pansy had been cast, the witch urged her to continue and not turn back. There was nothing left for her.
Pansy's right foot lifted and stepped out into Muggle London. As she walked through the doorway, she shed the image of Pansy Parkinson, witch and Death Eater's daughter. She emerged into the dark street on the other side of the Leaky Cauldron and immediately bumped into the nearest of a couple of women.
"Oh excuse me there, I didn't even see you." the woman Pansy had run into said.
Pansy's hand lifted to the brooch at her neck. "Pardon me, I lost my footing." she said after an uncomfortable amount of time had passed.
"Dear, are you alright? You look a bit lost." the other woman said, she was taller and with keener eyes. Both women had their hands out to steady Pansy. "What is your name?"
Pansy shrugged off their hands, her own still clutching the brooch her Mother had given her. "My name is Primrose. And I am not lost. Not anymore."