The regular disclaimer stays I only own the AU and OC, the rest is borrowed from JKR's world.(np)
Chapter 31
Shutting the door firmly, Neville had turned toward his struggling wife. She had been glowing, against the pale bathroom tiles, over the brim of the tub, pulling at the bindings, while her eyes rolled back, her body jerked. Gulping down his hesitance, steeling his mind, he had taken a few steps forward. Mumbling under his breath, he had tried to ease away the knot forming inside his dried parched throat, "She will be fine, she will live this."
Pansy had moaned and had arched her back. What started as an electrical shock, had slowly grown into euphoric spasms. She needed something, anything, to stop these vibrations rocking her body. Anything felt like this below. What had Longbottom given her, a potion, a drug that made her sense dance erotically? Amidst her ragging nerves, she had recalled Greyback chilling words, "You will beg for me, you will beg for me to ride you, you will want me. Lass you cannot escape."
In a panic she had shrieked, "Help, save me, he will know, he will come, Greyback will come, save me." Neville had torn off his robes and had dived inside the splashing tub, carefully settling him over his wife. Holding her head within his palms, he had implored at her, "He will not, Pansy, he cannot, if…if we manage to seal the bond. Please Pansy, allow me. Think of me and Me alone." When she had blinked at him and had sucked in a shallow breath, letting the ultimate plea fall off her chaffed lips, "Please," he had positioned himself and had pushed forward.
She had cried out, her ears were buzzing, her skin was on fire, her brain barely able to work out the rushing waves of primal desire. She felt full and complete. Her head had rolled back, but he had managed to secure it, stopping it from hitting against the brink of the pristine tub. He had been grinding his teeth, steeling his mind, as the ripples of raw magic had started coursing through every sinew of his body. This was madness, senseless joy. If being nestled within her would make his shudder with such unbridled pleasure, he would accept every such invitation without holding himself back. His knees where bucking under his weight. But he had tied to stay still, for her sake, if he would fall over her, she could drown…
Snap. His eyes had flown out, alert. But then Pansy had managed to roll him over, below her. She had swiftly saddled him. Gasping underwater, he had managed to bring himself up, and sit against the tub. This was rough, raw and a struggle for dominance. But he had never prepared for this sight before him. Carrows had managed to mangle his body, his soul and his desire to be with someone. But this apparition of an exquisite water nymph had robbed him of his insecurities. Jostling against the remaining binds, Pansy had managed to rock against him, her nails were now digging into his chest. He had felt the sparks slowly bristling along his spine, he had felt the tingling sensation of his approaching climax, he had felt her magic meeting his with unabashed acceptance. And she was glowing. Every inch of her body was glowing. As if the moon had come down on the earth, inside his humble abode and had found its ultimate home.
In disbelieve, he had spoken aloud, "Pansy, Pansy, Oh! Pansy!" Her scars were glowing like stars, no like streams of unicorn blood, like molten silver…He had gripped her hip in one hand, and in the other he had managed to hold her head, locking his fingers in the confines of her wild chocolate brown hair. She had screamed and so had he. She had dug her nails further and had drawn blood. He had lost control of his mental barriers. He was not a master of occlumency, but he had knowledge of rudimentary meditating skills. How to separate your mind to experiences that might drive you mad otherwise…
They had both shuddered in joined ecstasy, and she had leaned further towards him, desperately trying to catch hold of his lips. But Neville had pulled at her hair, halting her progress, frustrating her ragging demands. Quaking against her, he had realized he had been crying all along. "No," gasping for breath he had asserted, "No, you don't get to do that, you don't, I am not a doormat. You don't get the luxury to kiss me and tell. No, kiss me, only when you mean it, with your body, mind and soul."
She had whimpered in his arms, easing herself over his solid frame, she had tasted blood. Hiccupping, snorting like a lost child, she had snaked her arms around him. He had felt like home, driftwood in a vast ocean. A ray of light in dead darkness. Below her, he had mumbled a series of well-meant apologies. Above their tangled body, the shower had continued to sprinkle the mix of that sweet-smelling floral concoction that had made her forget he was even human.
The beastly call that she had heard before at the back of her mind had vanished, gone away, ripped off from her soul. Inside she could feel the comfort of his magic. Powerful just, compassionate, comforting, endearing, loving. Love had been a plaything. But this was raw and real, engulfing her senses. Below her, she could hear his heartbeat. It was a deep thud, a sure strong heart, that knew how to protect. She felt so exhausted, so relived and so past caring of her own predicament that she had decided to fall asleep over her accommodating husband.
The moment he had felt her body give away, instinctively, he had snaked his arms around her, whispering, "Finite incantatum" he had helped her settle over her, massaging her scalp, he had tried to ease away the pain he might have cause for gripping her hair so tight. He had never imagined sleeping with someone. Never had that occurred to him. "But a tub, for a bed, how many surprises does life have in store for me…" He had looked down at his sleeping wife.
Even if Neville Longbottom had dissuaded his new wife from kissing him during their very first time together, he had softly planted a chaste kiss on her brow. Running his hand over her now healed scar, he had marveled at his success. The raw red abomination had been replaced by narrow lines that were still shinning but their intensity that reduced. They will grow dull within hours. And she would almost look anew. And he had smiled. Like the old Neville that the world was familiar with. The old Neville who was shy and sensitive, loyal and concerned, soft and loving. By saving Pansy, he had managed to save himself. If she would have me, if she would consider walking beside me, I would never doubt myself. Ever Again.
On the other side of the closed door, Blaise Zabini had managed to unfold himself from the fetal position he had laid down in, while Pansy's scream, Neville's grunts and those eerie lights from under the closed door had lit the corridor floor. Wiping his tears off, he had heaved a sigh thinking to himself, "If Longbottom has done it, My Lavender would still have hope to look out for…if she struggles, I will hope, I will fight, I will hope for both of us. Merlin, see me through."
A/N: This was so tough to write, with my mind divided, my concentration being pulled apart here and there.
