Neville pushed himself out of bed slowly as he felt his back begin to sting again. He couldn't thank Zabini enough for patching him up, he just wished that the healing could be over. He sat up and took a deep breath before pushing himself up to get dressed. The skin on his back felt paper-thin and prone to tearing as he moved carefully around his room.
He needed to get back to his plants, they were all probably bone dry after having been neglected for the last few days.
Zabini had kept him in his rooms for the first night to ensure that the healing process had started correctly with no signs of infection, however, after that, he had been allowed to return to his own dwellings.
His thoughts returned to the Princess over and over again as he replayed the events in his mind. She hadn't returned to Zabini's in the time he had been there. He felt silly for wishing it, but he had wanted to see her, to observe her actions. Zabini had been so certain of a return affection that he was scared to hope for evidence.
He trudged slowly through the corridors as he neared the greenhouses. He felt slightly sick and out of breath by the time he reached them and hoped to sit down once he got there.
As he pushed in, he felt the sweet, hot air surround him, causing sweat to break out on his skin. The place looked tidier than he remembered leaving it and was surprised to see that the shattered pots weren't still on the floor. He glanced to his bench and noticed that there was a pile of broken pots. Someone had tidied up. He frowned in confusion as he tried to remember exactly what happened.
He heard a noise and jerked around as he felt the skin on his back twinge.
"Oh, I'm sorry." Came the voice, guilt and worry mingled in as she moved closer.
He hissed as he moved to sit down. The tearing pain stinging across his back in fine, scalding lines.
She moved closer again, and he held a hand up to show he was alright.
"I'm fine." He lied as he waited for the pain to ease. He tried to breathe through the pain as hot lines burned into his muscles
"I'm sorry, I didn't know you were in here." The Princess replied.
"Nor I you, your highness." He looked up at her and noted that her eyes looked red and swollen. He frowned. "Are you well, milady?"
"I'm fine." He could hear the lie in her voice but ignored it.
"What brings you here? He asked carefully as he waited for the sweat to pass.
"I thought that the least I could do was help tidy up the mess so I came to do that and then I started watering the plants as I knew you probably wouldn't be in to see them for a few days."
He felt his heart swell at this unexpected gesture.
"Thank you, my lady." He looked around. "You did a fantastic job." He nodded approvingly.
"I did it all myself, I picked up the pots and put them on the bench, and I swept the floor too. I found some other things on the floor over by the well, so I put those safely in the pile too."
"you didn't have to do that, your highness."
"I know, but I felt so awful about your punishment that I thought that it would make you smile upon your return."
"You were right, I was dreading bending down." He laughed. She copied, and he thought it was the most extraordinary sound he had ever heard. He thought she smiled, so he smiled back as he looked into those startling grey eyes. His chest tingled, and his heart stuttered. How he had missed those eyes.
"I'm sorry you were flogged." She said finally. "It was wrong, I tried to get them to stop but they wouldn't." She looked down, and Neville swallowed. She'd been there. She'd seen him tied and bare. He closed his eyes as he tried to calm every nerve and doubt that wanted to scream out.
"I know that you were blameless for it." He said as he felt the warmth of the wound slowly disappear to a gentle throb. "I'm sorry I knocked you over,"
"You were blameless too." She replied.
"Thank you, My lady. It means a great deal to know that." She looked at him for a long moment.
"Please, call me Pansy."
"Your highness, I couldn't," He argued nervously as he felt a thrill rush through him.
"When it's just us, please. I do not want to be a Princess here. With you,"
His heart thudded loudly in his chest as he took in her words. Maybe Zabini was right, he wasn't sure. Women had never shown him any interest before.
"I will try." He smiled as he rubbed his head awkwardly. He felt the heat rush up his neck as he avoided her eyes. The air between them suddenly more intimate. "Please call me Neville." He replied eventually.
"I will." She looked away avoiding his gaze. He watched her and suddenly felt like he could ask anything.
"May I ask a question your-Pansy?" He said the last quietly, almost reverently. She turned back to him, and he noted the sudden wariness in her gaze.
"You may ask. I may not answer."
"I wanted to know what colour your hair was." He asked his blush deepening as he turned away as if he's asked too much. It had been a stupid question.
"You could have asked anything, and you want to know the colour of my hair?" She asked, and he could hear the smirk in her tone.
"It was stupid, never mind." He stood slowly and turned to focus on something but didn't know where to start. He felt her step closer until she was almost touching his arm. He looked around and saw her looking at him tentatively.
"It's black." She whispered. He smiled at the information. He looked into her eyes and felt caught in the silver gaze. He sighed and smiled.
"You're so beautiful." The moments the words fell from his mouth, he clamped his jaw shut. His skin scorched as he turned around to hide his embarrassment. He felt her step back, and he turned to stop her. He held out his hand. "I'm sorry. I spoke out of turn. Sometimes I speak before I think. Forgive me."
"You're forgiven." She said quietly as she turned to leave. "I have to go." She muttered.
"Good day, my lady." He called after her. Their eyes met again, and he could see tears shimmering in that pale gaze. She nodded before she turned and left.
He swore under his breath. He was such an idiot. How could he have said that, to the Princess? He cursed again before turning back to his bench. He began to pick up the broken pots before throwing them back down again. He supposed he could use them as drainage for other potted plants. He paused as he gathered his thoughts. What was he doing? He had fallen head over heels for the Princess. He knew she had eyes the colour of quicksilver and hair the colour of ravens wings. He knew that she was kind-hearted and lonely. He knew nothing else about her, but he knew her. He was as sure of it as he was of a sunrise. I knew her with every fibre of his being, and his heart called out to her as though she was the piece he had been missing all his life. He knew he had ruined things. He had made things too real. She obviously didn't feel the same way, and Zabini was wrong.
His eyes ran over the neat pile of ceramics when his eyes caught something unusual. He peered into one of the almost intact containers.
At the bottom lay a handful of blue, glass vials, empty and with their stoppers missing. He looked at them and frowned. These looked like potion bottles. He had a bad feeling about these. He needed to get them to Zabini at once. He pushed them into his pockets as he stiffly left the hothouse, wishing he'd never left his rooms.
