"She's disappointed in me. She lost her only son and had to raise her grandchild—who didn't turn out anything like the son she lost. But I'm not getting stuck in a career I don't want just to mend fences with her. I already went through a bloody war. Can't I do something fun for once?" - Neville to Susan and Hannah over a bonfire and some good ale.

Neville's room was a little too clean. And yet cluttered in a very guy way. A giant bookshelf lined one wall. The bottom held all the textbooks from school and a few classics. The rest held pictures, knick-knacks, a rock collection, and a very eccentric line of green, blue, and purple succulents.

Pansy waited a whole hour for Hannah or Neville to return, but it seemed their conversation was long overdue. So she jarred her jam, which had cooled to perfect consistency, and decided to move her things from Neville's room up to the guest room. She decided to give it one more night at Longbottom Keep, but if she had another dream like the one they had last night, she was moving to Canada.

But once she saw his bedroom in the light of day, she couldn't help but snoop a little bit. She enjoyed the pictures the most. It seemed everywhere she looked was a smiling face on a different friend or family member or Neville in some distant land.

Some she recognized like the Notre Dame or the Charles Bridge. But others she didn't. He'd been to Pacific beaches and golden deserts. There was one of him decked out in climbing gear, standing in front of a sign that said Denali. Clearly he stood on the edge of a cliff and behind him spread out as far as the horizon went was pure white snow.

Except as she leaned in closer Pansy realized it wasn't snow at all, but smooth, unbroken clouds. How high must he have climbed to see such a sight?

Fascinating. She'd never been anywhere but to school. Her eyes, unable to stop wandering, found a picture of a couple in Aurors robes in a very worn, wooden frame just beyond the cloudy photo.

She picked it up to examine the couple a little closer. They waved up at her, smiling warmly and it didn't take a genius to put it together. Neville was a dead ringer for his mother. Bright golden brown eyes and a wide set mouth. Though she could see traces of him in his dad too, the jaw and the nose were a match. But this was a young couple, the picture clearly a few decades old.

She went to put the picture back but saw, half hidden, an Order of Merlin, First class.

Her mouth dropped open. She extracted the stone plaque from behind a wooden box, dusting it off to get a better look. Neville Ellery Longbottom, for services provided during the Great War and the Battle of Hogwarts.

If this was hers, she would hang it up for the world to see. Why had he shoved it to a forgotten corner to gather dust?

Modest man, our guy.

"This is the highest honor our kind can receive, why did he hide it?" she asked, certainly confused.

Well, now, we both witnessed how stubborn he can be last night. You should ask him about it.

Running her fingers over the expertly carved plaque, Pansy really wondered why he allowed it to collect dust when there was a house full of empty wall space. He could hang this anywhere and he chose an out of the way, dark corner. There had to be a big reason. Someone didn't just win an Order of Merlin, First Class and then forget about it.

No matter her personal experience, crazy cult and Spitting-Fire Beetles and all, there was no doubt in her mind that Neville deserved the award. A compulsion kept her staring down at the stone in her hand, finger tracing over the words as she did. Distracting her enough she didn't notice the very man had returned.

"Like that?" he asked, leaning against the door frame casually, his shirt completely sweated through.

It hadn't been loud at all, but she jumped nearly out of her skin and dropped the plaque for her troubles.

It flopped straight down on the worn hardwood floor and didn't bounce at all, just landed with a deafening slam of stone on wood before it tilted over on it's back. In a panic she knelt down and grabbed it, already spotting the small crack on the corner.

Mortified, she looked up at Neville and wished for instantaneous death. It didn't help the man had obviously been crying. "I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "S'fine."

"I could fix it," she offered, coming up to stand and holding the plaque much more carefully than before. Maybe she could wedge a piece of lead or wood between the crack and fill it with putty. She had the materials at her home. Stained glass and putty went hand in hand and she could cut lead in her sleep. "You'd think they would be more sturdy than this…"

But Neville only shrugged again. "Really, I don't care."

Perfect time to ask your question, sweetheart.

"But… why-"

"So," he interrupted and walked by her, deeper into his bedroom. "Harry is interrogating your intruder today and I know where Hannah got the bracelet finally, we can go ask around. I just need a shower first."

Blinking, Pansy realized he was asking her to leave the house again. She'd rather not. Most definitely not. The look on her face must have clued him in. He said, "I know you're supposed to be laying low, I didn't forget. But we can disguise you. It's just a short trip to Diagon Alley. I promise there's no bad guys waiting around every corner for you."

No, they just sneak into her home and leave a box full of bloody animal parts to terrorize her.

"I'd rather stay and talk about-" she held up the plaque. "Why you let the greatest honor wizard kind can be bestowed upon get dusty."

"And I'd rather take a shower and then go figure out where these damn bracelets came from, and guess what, Pancakes? You're coming with me."

The sheer audacity. What did he just refer to her as? Breakfast food? "I am not going anywhere without a bodyguard and don't ever call me that again."

Pansy determined to remain still and show him she meant business, even if she was being nosy about it. She raised the plaque up and wiggled it back and forth. She wasn't leaving.

Neville's eyes narrowed at her and Stella's voice filled her mind. Oola-la, honey, you're about to see a man determined to get what he wants.

"Why oola-la?" she wondered out loud.

Frustration is sexy. Watch.

Neville's gaze narrowed further as she conversed with Stella. "Do you get off on being stubborn?"

"Me or…?" Pansy pointed at her head.

"Oh, I'm definitely talking about you. I already know Gus and Stella are more stubborn than a mandrake that wants their binky."

"It's an Order of Merlin," she couldn't believe she had to remind him of that. "With your name on it!"

"Yeah and they gave out like 50 others at the same time I got that piece of junk. Big whoop."

"Aren't you angry that I broke something of yours?"

"No, actually, now you've given me a proper reason to toss the thing. So thanks! Now shoo. I need to shower."

Did he just shoo us? And she wasn't sure if it was her or Stella that thought it.

Pansy stood her ground, somehow, feeling upset on his behalf and far too curious to be afraid. They had an intense stare down for exactly one minute before he demonstrated he was the brave one. His hands came to the bottom of his shirt and his eyes said try me.

Oh no...

Oh, yes!

"Uh… uh…"

Pansy took a step back and realized, quite suddenly, that Neville's activities out in the woods had caused him to sweat through his shirt, which caused said shirt to mold to his torso. Which once properly registered by her brain caused a flare of heat to spread through her entire body and she wasn't sure if it was her feeling attracted or if it was Stella messing with her.

Nope, not me darlin'. I told you frustration is sex-ay.

Pansy squeaked when Neville proved he wasn't bluffing by pulling his wet shirt over his head and dropping it to the floor without breaking eye contact, the squeak immediately followed by her turning on her toe and rushing from the room as quickly as possible.

Pansy was halfway to the kitchen, plaque still clutched in her arms when she realized she hadn't grabbed any of her things.