That look haunted him for the rest of the day. It was on the edge of all his thoughts and stared beseechingly out of mirrors. Occasionally while traipsing through a rather delicious and lengthy daydream a visage would appear that would speak with such aching pleas Neville would listen till he trembled before remembering others stood behind him at the portrait hole.

In sum, the heady thought that Parkinson might, in fact, actually be attracted to him had settled darkly into Neville's soul and would not be budged. So relived was the moment where he had turned it had ceased to become memory but was now an all-consuming event he was an endless participant of.

"Neville," moaned Harry, "You stopped walking again. What's wrong with you?"

Neville ducked his head and exited the doorway as if his thoughts could be read if Harry peered too closely. "Nothing," he sighed. "I've just been thinking too much about Snape. I'm really tired, too."

"Yeah." A nod of sympathy, and Harry's face disappeared beneath a veil of red. Neville slipped away into further disinterest in the present and dismissed himself while Ginny further entangled her limbs with Harry's own.

Pansy marveled at her own brilliance. That she had shattered Neville to the quick with her blatant display of his emotional power over her had only entrapped her bait further. That it had been wholly accidental was brushed aside.

It was enough of a celebratory victory to consume one half of a particularly rich strawberry-raspberry pie Draco had demanded specially to order from the kitchen for her while sampling a countless slew of perfumes her mother had sent. "He likes plants," she muttered wickedly. "Something natural and not too strong or flowery. I hate musk; he'd better not like it. Oh, that was disgusting." And on it went until the other half of the pie was consumed and Pansy had chosen her next tactics, fingers stained red.

The underbrush was a bit finicky to paw through, but the insect-thick tangle of shrubbery on the marshy edge of the Lake was the perfect environment for the plant they needed today in Herbology. Neville was on his hands and knees, peering through the growth with a practiced eye while squishing his toes deeper into the mud. Such narrow focus sent him on a heedless path towards calamity, and in the space of five confused seconds he went from tugging up the roots of his prize to gasping for air as he surfaced.

"Longbottom," came an angry hiss to the left.

Neville choked, but not on water. That Pansy would have even been in the vicinity had been so far from his thoughts that he cursed himself for his lax vigilance. Previously hidden from his vision due to the tallness of the plants he'd just exited, she was standing knee deep in water while scouring the shores for exactly what he'd dropped mid-fall. At least, that is what he assumed she'd been doing. She was now extracting one firm, lengthy leg from a thigh-high rubber boot to discard the extra contents he'd inadvertently splashed inside. Neville began faintly coughing.

"You got water everywhere." It was sneered with such force Neville could only reply in the affirmative. The boot had been flung to the mossy bank and the other leg was being made visible as Neville realized how often Pansy wore stockings. The pale flesh under his gaze was quite new to his gaze.

"Now you can help me find this plant we have to get as punishment for drenching me."

The coughing fit ceased. "I can't. It's cheating." He sunk to his eyes and began floating in a decidedly backwards sort of motion.

"Granger helps you all the time." The second boot joined its twin.

"Nooooo..." His eyes were still locked on what he could see of her legs and Pansy was resisting the urge to fling him next to the boots and shove her tongue down his throat in what she imagined was the fashion of a dominatrix. The boots had been inspiring, and the idea that Neville was hardly aware of what a dominatrix was made her feelings all the more rampant with need as he bobbed along.

"Yes." And with that, she lunged forward and secured his collar, hauling him to his feet.

Now, his current state of innocent, disheveled, and drenched had Pansy so weak-limbed she was clinging to his shirt for support as he found his legs and stood, blinking back water.

"Nev—you, I mean," she gasped, flushed and bright-eyed, "You're a tad heavier when above water. "So..." Her eyes were now roaming his body, as if looking for all the defined attributes of a single specimen.

Neville attempted to wrench her hand from his shirt. "The plant's this way," he babbled. "I had actually found some but then I fell in. If you let go I'll show you and give you some and then I can go cause I can't be late or Gran'll kill me if I'm late for a class cause she said I had to―"

"Shut up, Longbottom." She waded to where he had entranced and started digging about.

The knowledge that this was not some evil scheme meant to terrorize and humiliate had beguiled Neville past hope. As he watched her uproot all the vegetation with perfectly manicured nails Neville gave his last bit of willpower a hearty dismissal. It was just a bit of plant, and he had gotten water in her boots.

"You're going to kill everything if you do it that way." Instantly he was at her side, musing over the area he'd trampled previously. "Here's some," he said with a sigh of relief. He shoved it all into her hands before deftly climbing the bank. A pair of Ravenclaw girls were passing and eyed him before giggling and walking away. Yes, he was drenched, but that was no excuse for laughing at him. Oh, and the pond water was rank. He'd have to shower before class. Neville began to pluck absently at his filthy shirt. He felt as nauseating as he appeared and his shoes were somewhere beyond that tree but he couldn't see them so perhaps it had been the tree further to the right; consuming quarts upon quarts of scummy water had addled his brain.

"If I were Granger I'd have gone after them for you," cooed a voice at his elbow.

"Wha―?"

"Those lascivious Ravenclaws. You do realize how apparent your physique is now that you're wet? Look down, Longbottom."

He obeyed even as he pretended he didn't want to.

"I..."

"Running like the little follower you are after Potter and his scum must have been effective for something."

"I, I..."

"You reek, Longbottom." And with that she sauntered away barefoot, the boots slung over one shoulder while the plants he needed dangled in one hand.

Pansy Parkinson had just told him she wanted his body. That had not been the literal phrasing and he knew it but it twisted so deceptively simple into what he had craved from any girl that exactitude was no longer required. In a sort of catatonic state of joy, Neville staggered to the tree and struggled to force his socks over his shoes.