"Ennervate, Ennervate. Ah, Bones, Longbottom, ready to rejoin the land of the living? Don't worry, it won't be for long."
I shake my head roughly, trying to wake myself up. Seeing Malfoy's thin, taunting face, I growl, a rumbling noise that begins deep in my chest and resonates trough my jaw and throat. Startled, Malfoy backs up a few paces, and almost bowls O'Malley over as he falls down arse-first.
Whoa, that was creepy. It looks like it spooked Malfoy and the other guy, what's-his-name, O'Malley, though. Good.
I feel Susan stir beside me, her stocky and muscular form obviously full of tension and knots. She groans in pain when she pulls on the ropes around her wrists.
If I get out of this alive, Malfoy, you'll die for hurting the woman I love.
I growl again, drawing Susan's attention away from her pain and Malfoy's away from getting up without getting all dusty.
"Oh, does the widdle puppy have some fight left in him?" Malfoy whines, taunting me, and then laughs mirthlessly. "Don't worry, Longbottom,that attitude will be takes care of shortly."
I promise you a long and painful death, Malferret.
There's no doubting it now. I, Neville Francis Longbottom, am a hopeless romantic, and long for a peaceful future to spend with Susan.
Malfoy smirks, taking my silence for defeat – which it's not – and mutters a few trigger charms for spectator wards.
He must be expecting quite a show.
"Incarcerous!"
Malfoy's spell cuts off my train of thought – and very nearly my circulation – as it ties Susan and me together, back-to-back, our hands touching.
My brain stops in its tracks when Susan grabs my hands and whimpers, barely audibly. Then and there, I decide to do what I'd been pondering since before Malfoy stunned us. "Susan?"
"Yeah, Neville?"
"I've got something to tell you."
"That much I can tell."
Before I can stop myself – before I lose my nerve – I say, "I love you."
There is a pregnant pause as Malfoy checks and double-checks things.
Then, "You picked a hell of a time to tell me, Neville." She takes a deep breath. "I love you too."
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
Malfoy's spell lifts Susan and me up into the air to hover above a gigantic pit, full of dogs.
They're starving, I realize with a jolt.
"Look, they're under the Immobulus. Think you can work some wandless magic and get these ropes off of us?"
"Probably not," I mutter grimly.
"Neville, you have an above-average power level for a wizard. You just have a confidence problem. Need I remind you that these dogs are going to eat us if we can't get free?"
"All right, all right." I start thinking of a charm to help us.
Incendio. That'll work – even if it might burn us.
"Incendio," I mutter under my breath. "Incendio."
"That's the spirit, Neville! Incendio, Incendio."
Our voices began to speak as one. "Incendio. Incendio."
The dog farthest from us – a massive brindle male with a lot of loose skin – begins to twitch.
Oh no.
"Incendio. Incendio. Incendio."
A second dog, this one closer to us – a white-furred female with blood-crazed eyes – starts drooling, and her tail begins to jerk out of Malfoy's Immobulus jinx.
"Incendio. Incendio. Incendio."
Incendio has become something of a mantra, and a meditationI feel myself become calmer, even as I grow more and more angry at Malfoy, at the dogs, at the general state of the world, but mostly at the ropes binding me and Susan back-to-back.
I want to see her face, one last time. I want to kiss her, hug her, love her, and grow old with her.
Now, I will die with her.
"Incendio. Incendio. Incendio."
A third dog, a beast altogether too close to us – a fawn monster, bigger than any of the other dogs – begins to growl an animalistic challenge.
Oh shit.
I can feel my emotions roiling within me, boiling over – and then –
"AAARGH!" I roar out a howl of defiance, but it morphs into a cry of pain as the ropes burn all around me. My hands get a nasty scorching, but Susan's are left untouched.
The dogs don't even have time to yelp as they are consumed by the savage flames, my own wild magic killing them quickly so that they do not suffer by my hand. The blaze whirls around us, up through the spectator wards and into the room around the pit.
Malfoy's screams are terrible, but surprisingly O'Malley is silent.
Did he run? Or is he burnt to a crisp, my own magic keeping Malfoy alive so that he can suffer a horrific death in my inferno?
Can't have happened to a nicer guy, in my opinion.
The ropes burned away, Susan and I rise and find our wands in our pockets – where we couldn't have gotten them, true, being tied up and all – but it testifies to Malfoy's arrogance to have left them there.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
Susan's magic lifts us back onto the surface, out of the pit, where we promptly collapse into each other's arms crying.
