"No, Hannah's great. We eat and we have sex. How much more perfect could she be?" - Neville, age 20, to Ron and Harry at the wedding of George and Angelina.

Neville found out that Harry hadn't been able to interrogate Pansy's intruder further because he'd slipped into a coma sometime after being admitted to St. Mungo's hospital. Despite the Healer's best efforts, they couldn't figure out why. After his own recent trip to the magical hospital he wasn't surprised in the least.

That Healer had been downright nutty.

But he couldn't lie about being disappointed. He wanted to get to the bottom of this Brotherhood situation so Pansy could feel safe in her own home but somehow neither him nor Harry could find any information about the cult besides the measly case file the Ministry had on Pansy. It was if not worse, just as bad as the file Harry had of The Brotherhood.

Whoever had been in charge of keeping the evidence together hadn't bothered in the least. There was exactly one photograph of the dead Spitting Fire Beetle that marred Pansy, and the record that proved she went to St. Mungo's to treat the wound.

There was a complaint filed by Gerry Kessler after the feather incident, but no record whatsoever of what happened to the feather or what, if any, follow up had been.

Ted had been their only lead and Harry was furious. So was Neville, to be honest.

He chewed on that while Susan fiddled with his bracelet, casting spell after spell, trying to tease apart whatever magic the curse was made of.

"Sweet Neville, cursed in the prime of his life," Susie muttered as she worked, always smiling.

"I could just die—Hermione said that would get the damn ghost to move on."

"Spirit."

"I don't care," he snapped.

"Oh, so grouchy."

"I haven't been sleeping well," he told her, realizing she was right. But everyone already knew he hadn't been sleeping. He was beyond grouchy and definitely sick of seeing Pansy terrified all the time. He thought that after the war, things would get better for their community. Yet Pansy had been stalked and harassed and no one at the Ministry seemed to care at all.

What the hell is that? He thought of Pansy, standing at the stove, making yet another batch of jam in her pretty dresses and rare smile. He was going to have to try it soon. It had to be good. Everyone seemed in love with it. Even Hermione…

"I'm sorry to hear that, Nevvy," she told him, wand up, waving back and forth as she ran some test or another.

"I'm… I'm just angry all the time," he admitted, wondering if venting was the right thing to do. Susan wouldn't mind, but he wasn't in the mood for advice. He wanted to pound out his frustrations...

"At Hannah?"

"Maybe," he sighed, thinking that if they hadn't broken up, Hannah is exactly who he'd been pounding out those frustrations with. "No, not at Hannah. I'm the one that fucked up there. I let things go on for way too long. I'm mad because…"

Oh. Was it time to come clean? Who better than his best friend? Except his best friend was also Hannah's best friend, and he didn't want to hurt Hannah. He was tired of hurting her.

"Never mind..." he groaned, miserable.

She continued to work for a bit, muttering spells under her breath and making faces when they didn't give the result she wanted. Then she said, "If you want to tell me something in confidence, you can."

"I can't," he disagreed. "You were Hannah's friend first, and I don't want to mess that up."

"You're so sweet, you know that, Nev? But I told you once before. I choose to be a friend to you and Banana, because I love you both. Tell me what's on your mind."

"Okay..." he exhaled hard. "I feel things for Pansy... thing I never once felt for Hannah."

Susan paused, looking up in surprise.

"And I can't tell if it's me or if it's just Gus loving his wife, but then, I'm pissed because Pansy is in real danger and no one seems to care. No one. I just wonder what the hell did we fight for if this is how people are going to treat her?"

"Wow, I've never seen you so passionate about something before, not since the war anyways…" Susie went back to her spellwork. "Hannah's okay, by the way. I made her the biggest pan of double fudge brownies last night."

"They're all gone by now," he smiled. "She loves chocolate."

"What about Pansy? Shall I make her some? Maybe she needs a bit of comfort food."

"I'll find out," he said, thinking he would love to find out her favorite treats.

"Good, and I'm going to get with Hermione because so far, I've been useless here. I have no idea how to break this curse. It's strong, because of its age. I would say 50 years or so old." Susan held the bracelet and set her wand down, still examining the gold and silver links. "What a heaping pile of trouble you've managed to land in."

"Tell me about it. Thanks for coming by, Susie."

They hugged afterwards.

"Sad I couldn't meet up with your Pansy this time, can't wait to try the famous jam," Susie laughed, pausing by the door. "And don't worry, I won't tell anyone your secret."

His secret. His confusion. Those dreams alone would be enough to knock anyone for a loop. But it did clear one thing up. Neville knew exactly how Gus felt for Stella because he could quite literally feel it. Which meant he knew for certain what he felt for Hannah all these years was not truly love.

He went up to his room and laid down, though he did not sleep.

There hadn't been any dreams for a few nights because Ginny dropped off a double batch of Dreamless Sleep Potions for both him and Pansy. The latter had been taking a nap when Ginny came by, so they didn't have to deal with each other face to face and Neville thought that might have been for the best.

Ginny was still feeling sour about the whole fight with Mattie, Pansy's friend and bodyguard.

Though to be sure there would be no dreams, Pansy suggested they sleep at different times, which he agreed to for the time being, not coming clean that he just hadn't slept more than an hour or so at a time. It seemed to be working, as Pansy had been asleep during Susan's visit. It gave him an excuse to watch over her door as she slept and he knew the powerful compulsion to protect Pansy was being heavily influenced by Gus and his unyielding love for Stella.

He tried to separate the feelings currently coursing through his brain like a full on Christmas Parade. But he felt like he shot-gunned eight espressos while simultaneously chewing up chocolate covered coffee beans and doing nonstop jumping jacks.

AKA, he had no idea what was happening because it felt like his brain was on fire.

There was a load of guilt about Hannah(all his), and it hummed in the background while this storm of love for Stella(not his) fought violently with this need to protect Pansy(maybe his) and Stella(definitely not his) which clashed with a whole lot of confusion.

Which was definitely his.

He thought...

You need to seduce her, Gus said in that uppity, condescending tone of his. Again. For the millionth time.

"Not happening." Neville's feet bounced anxiously. "I'm not sleeping with her. Her first time will not be some backwards foursome, not after everything she's been through."

You'd rather be with someone like her than that sweetheart blonde, and that's tough for me to say. I love blondes.

"Not. Happening. Wait, is-was-Stella blonde?"

She might be a scared kitten, your girl, but that kitten has claws.

"Okay," Neville felt his frustration mounting. "What's with the cat metaphors?"

The right man knows how to make his woman purr, chump.

"Purr?"

Make her yours, kick out those guards, and then you don't need an excuse to watch her door at night.

"Hey," Pansy seemed to appear at his doorway in the blink of an eye, filling up the space with her aura of strangeness. Maybe people would think she was a sweetheart, what with her jam making and pretty floral dresses. But her demeanor often came off as aloof and rude, until they got to know her. Then they realized she was just odd, and her humor so subtle it was easy to miss.

And her habit of suddenly appearing. She made zero noise when she walked. It startled him right out of his skin.

Like a kitty cat, Gus said. And Neville had the feeling the ghost was grinning.

"Ooohh, sorry," she gave him a piercing look. "What are you doing up here?"

"Umm…" he played it cool, stretching out his legs over the bed. "Chillin' out. Whatever."

"'Chillin''?" she raised an eyebrow, silver eyes dancing with humor.

"Yeah," he shrugged, realizing he was acting like an idiot teenager caught with a sock in his hand. "You need me for something, Pancake?"

"What I need is for you to stop calling me that. And I'm bored. I usually work in the mornings and all my equipment and supplies are at home. And… well since we're learning so much about each other already why not be honest? When I get bored I want to eat. Eat… everything."

Laughing, Neville nodded though he didn't mind that she was such a wonderful chef. They hadn't eaten take-away since the first night of her stay at Longbottom Keep, something he was more than okay with. "Me too. We could go to Diagon Alley and check out that consignment shop Banana told me about, the one she found this damn horrible bracelet at."

"Diagon Alley?" she mumbled, eyes widening in fear. Her entire demeanor changed and Neville instantly recognized that posture from their school days. Slightly hunched over, trying not to attract attention. Her fingers came up to brush through her hair nervously. "Maybe I'll just make cookies."

"Or…" he hopped up, that unstoppable confusion driving him to comfort and put her at ease. "I don't know, we could stay here."

"You could tell me what's up with the Mallards."

Laughing heartily, they walked downstairs and into the formal living room. Also known as Duck Hell. "My Gran. I don't know. She loves them."

"So why are they in your house then?"

"Because Longbottom Keep used to be my Gran's home until she remarried and moved out," he informed her, opening the dusty plaid curtains.

Pansy shied away from the sunlight that streamed through the window like a vampire, curiously eyeing up the nearest row of mallards. "If she moved out then why didn't she take her stuff?"

"She took everything else." Did he sound bitter? Oops.

"Ohhh," Pansy nodded, following him slowly around the room and subtlety not so subtlety closing the curtains he previously opened. "That explains all the empty rooms."

"Your Gran-"

"Augusta," he told her.

Pansy smiled slyly. "Augusta...?"

"Myerscough," he completed for her. Not a Longbottom any longer.

"And your parents?" she pretended to dust a curtain before shutting it, shooting him a side glance over her shoulder.

Those eyes are something special, chump.

Yeah, she was special. Too bad she was scared out of her boots 24/7.

"Frank and Alice," he said, ignoring Gus and looking away from Pansy's gorgeous silver eyes. Did they have to twinkle like that all the time? He cleared his throat, uncomfortable at the mention of the parents he never knew. "They live at St. Mungo's."

Her faux dusting paused. "That's… an interesting place to live. You'll have to tell me about that sometime."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Yeah. Some time."

"So, Granny liked the Mallards?"

"Yep."

"And… You don't like the Mallards?"

"Yep."

"But Granny moved out, right?"

"Right."

"So… what's stopping us from tossing all one thousand of these suckers into the trash can?" If she had a slight American Southern accent, he chose to ignore it.

"Uhm… well… nothing," he turned to look at her and found she'd stepped towards him, that sly smile back on her face and all the fear gone. From an invisible pocket in her dress she pulled out her wand, a long, curved Willow wand that fit nicely in her left hand.

Grinning, he pulled his own Cherry Wand out. "Why throw them away? Why not Reductor Curse or-"

"Burn them?" They said together. Then smiled.

"I'm going to channel my best Dean Thomas and go start a fire out back," he said, suddenly super excited. Burn the ducks! Why didn't he think of that?!

While he rushed out the back door to gather wood, Pansy began levitating a line of the god-awful Mallards. They danced in an embarrassingly long line out of the formal living room, down the hall, taking a right, past the kitchen, and out through the back door. Bobbing in a floating phalanx while Neville threw wood into a fire pit.

"Why are there so many?!" she laughed as more and more collected. Then she got scared. Yikes. "Uh… why are there so many?"

Pansy took a few steps back. The Mallards seemed downright menacing in a giant, floating group than lined up on a dusty shelf.

"Never fear," Neville tossed more wood into the fire, which crackled happily with it's new food. "I will protect you!"

Laughing at his attempt to sound like a Medieval Knight, he waved his wand at the nearest Mallards with a sweeping motion. "By Royal Order of me, Neville Ellery Longbottom the First, I hereby decree that Longbottom Keep is now, and forever more, a Mallard-Free kingdom and any wooden Mallard found on the grounds will be immediately executed for… looking ugly."

Pansy bent over, unable to stop laughing. It was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever witnessed before and it only got better once Neville began sentencing the Mallards to a fiery death. He shot them soaring through the air and right into the fire that climbed higher and higher as each duck fueled the inferno.

"You wanna get in on this, Pancakes?" he bounced over to her, wand behind his back as he aimed another Mallard right at the fire.

"Sir Longbottom, you have some moves, don't you?" she bit down on her lip. Weird as it might be, but she wanted to burn those Mallards too just for the reason they seemed to upset Neville.

Wand coming up, she targeted the nearest duck and levitated it into a spiral, straight up into the air directly above the fire and then…

Released it to free fall right into its fiery death. It landed with a loud thump of wood on burning wood, sending ash and smoke into the air.

"Wooo! Nice move!" Neville reached out for a high five, which she returned with sass. Then he sent the next duck even higher, trying to best her. He taunted, "Beat that."

Hon, that man is in love with you.

With an eye roll, Pansy ignored Stella's voice in her head and twirled her wand through the air, sending two Mallards spiraling through the air. They knocked heads before crashing into the fire.

Feeling smug, she glanced at Neville and smirked. "Too easy."

"Oh, it's on, Pancakes."

Together they took turns sending duck after duck at the fire pit in increasingly interesting ways, trying to best each other and having far too much fun while doing it. The Mallards waltzed and ritzed through the air. Doing somersaults and back flips with all the grace of a chunk of polished wood.

Neville shouted in victory for her each time she made a spectacular move so she returned the favor, the feeling contagious. "Nice one!" and "Watch this!" Until they both stood on the nearest bench, dancing, wands out, shooting off spells and sending the Mallards to their final resting place.

Laughing like two kids playing in the sun.

She sent two Mallards in a wide arc around Neville's back yard, pulling them in so they spiraled steadily closer—"Protego!"

Neville shouted the spell before she even realized she was about to send two giant chunks of wood right into the back of her own bodyguard's head.

"Gerry!" she shouted, jumping down from the bench and rushing over to him as the Mallards rolled harmlessly across the grass, successfully bouncing off the shield Neville summoned.

Her longtime guard almost got bashed in the skull. She felt horrible. "Are you alright?"

She couldn't help reaching up with her fingers, running through Gerry's head of thick blonde hair, just to make sure his head really was untouched. His fingers wrapped around her wrist afterwards, his bright blue eyes slightly wider than they usually were. "The question is are you alright?"

"I guess from your perspective, I'm acting a bit out of character," she admitted, retracting her fingers. Gerry wasn't just her guard—she considered him a friend as well. And with that came the usual physical contact friends had. But suddenly he seemed stiff and formal. He was avoiding her.

"Can I help you?" Neville asked, suddenly beside her. Pansy startled badly enough Gerry almost stepped forward.

But she caught the moment he stopped himself and glanced between them suspiciously. That's when they noticed Harry coming up the way right behind Gerry.

"Ted Heathers died."

She looked at Gerry. Her guard said, "And… there was another package delivered to your home."

"Oh."