A/N: Sorry for long wait! Quarantine has me wanting to write happier stuff lately and this chapter is heavy on the emotion. LOTS of emotion. YUMMY. Hope everyone is staying safe!
Chapter Thirty Eight
(Where Hal puts a new collar on Pansy's neck)
"See Posy?" Pansy felt her hostility flood back with enough force to make her lose balance. "Everybody lies."
Her memories may have been shot, but Pansy remembered the last days she shared with Hal. Him and his dumb fucking plan to save her. He showed up at the estate before the collar really started to do its damage and degrade her mind.
Hal was good at a lot of things. The kind of wolf who stuck to his guns and always did the right thing, even if it was the hard choice. But being subtle wasn't on that list. Most wolves weren't, they tended to live in the 'now'. The present. Hal was no exception.
He was a brick wall covered in ink and leather. Nearly 300 lbs, taller than most by a foot, and that was in human form. If only he wasn't so god damn honorable! First he picked a fight with Vistain on her behalf, quoting a prior claim. As the mate bond hadn't formed yet, it was valid.
In wolf law, the claim meant Hal could fight Vistain for the right to Pansy. But only a fool would make such a claim against an Alpha wolf. On that wolf's territory. When that wolf had a pet assassin.
But really, Ellis knew of Hal and Pansy's past relationship and had no intention of ever letting Hal leave. Pansy stepped forward and acted on the claim for herself. As Hal planned her to do. He wasn't getting out any other way, he might as well go out helping Pansy escape her captor. Beating him to death had been the first sign of trust between her and Vistain. She vividly remembered carving into his skin with a piece of glass Ellis had handed her.
And then fucking him for hours after she dropped the body off on Neville's porch.
"If you're not going to tell me," she continued. "I'll find out for myself."
"He's not dead," Neville insisted again. "He's in a coma, Pansy."
"He's not in a coma," Susan piped up, hiding her hands behind her back. "He woke up during the Full Moon."
"What?" - "He did?!" Neville and Posy both shouted.
"He's dead. I know because I killed him," Pansy yelled, bits of ice forming on her fingertips. She didn't dare hope.
"Then how do you explain this?" Susan brought her hand out and showed them her bandage. With her opposite hand she undid the gauze and showed a bite mark in the process of healing. "Hal was the only wolf at the hospital, and as most of you know, I was there all night."
Pansy took Susan's wrist in her hand, looking at the bite as Posy and Neville both dropped their jaws.
"Susie," Posy said in a small voice. "You got bit?"
"I got bit," she told them. "By Hal."
Pansy pushed Susan's hand away.
"Parkinson?" Neville called. "Where are you going?"
"You can run with me," Posy told Susan with a smile. "We can be pack."
"I'm going to find Hal."
"Thanks Posy," Susan patted her head. "You're sweet."
"Pansy!"
"And kill him—"
Except she got halfway towards where Draco stood at the hallway entrance and faltered, suddenly dizzy and beyond exhausted. Her knees gave out and the floor rushed up at her. She prepared to roll to minimize impact but her face stopped an inch away from the fancy hardwood. She wasn't sure she could have executed the maneuver anyways.
Two sturdy hands held her hips securely, and pulled her back up to her feet. There was a rush of familiarity, a sense of rightness. She thought that's exactly where those hands were supposed to be. "I'm dizzy…"
Pansy passed out again. Her mind shutting down between one second and the next.
"Fuck," Neville lifted her up and cradled her into his chest, looking for whatever caused the issue and not knowing how much more of this he could take.
"I assume she isn't angry on my behalf?" Susan asked as she rushed up and began checking Pansy with a Healer's eye. "Don't worry, Nev. She's just asleep again. I'm not surprised."
"Damn it," he swore, holding Pansy tightly. Was she so angry with him she couldn't even stay conscious? Because it sounded exactly petty enough that Pansy Parkinson would do just that. They couldn't go and steal The Fern if she was suddenly narcoleptic.
"I told you both before, she needs at least a month of healing. And I mean healing, Nev. Rest. No fighting, no running around, none of it. Regular, consistent sleep, hot meals, rest."
"I hear you, Susan, but it's not exactly realistic is it?" he snapped meanly. "I can't take them home because we're all wanted by the Aurors, I can't take them out because this bloody country is crawling with wolves. Getting The Fern is our best shot at getting Bobbi off my back."
"Shove it, Longbottom," Draco shouted. It was the first time any of them ever heard him with a raised voice. "Susan is not the reason you're in a spot of trouble here. In fact… You broke about a dozen laws going after Pansy in the first place, all of which I'd be more than happy to prosecute you for if you decide to put your hands on Susan again."
"Oh, Draco," Susie shook her head, clearly stepping forward to get between them. "I told you—"
"That it was an accident? Yes, you did tell me—"
"If you really want to get in my face right now, Malfoy, you're more than welcome to try-"
"Not only that but I'm perfectly capable—"
"Of taking care of yourself, yes I understood the first thousand times you told me—"
"STOP." Posy jumped in the middle of them, hands up, her hair flying every which way. "Stop fighting! You guys are missing the point entirely right now!"
"Yes, yes we are. Posy, please continue," Susan gave a weak smile.
"We can't go home right, because of Aurors?" she looked to Nev, who nodded. "And we can't stay here?"
She looked to Draco. Who nodded. "I'm sorry. There's too many daily visitors, too many staff around for me to keep your presence here a secret."
"And we need to be safe from Vistain's wolves right?"
They all nodded.
"Then I know exactly where we can go."
oOo
Pansy slipped into a deep sleep once again—Except this time she dreamed. Dreamed of a rolling purple sky filled with storm clouds and forest giants that towered above her. Birch Sap Trees, which only grew to be a foot or so tall, but these… they pierced the clouds with their gnarled, ash gray branches and bulbous trunks so thick she couldn't see between them. Legendary trees the world would never see the likes of again.
On a pale green, velvety leaf she lay on her back, breathing in cool, fresh air. Naked as the day she was born, but not a hint of vulnerability. She rolled and peered over the edge, silvered hair falling past her cheek and feeling silky smooth against her shoulder. She was miles up from the ground and though tiny flakes of snow lazily drifted in the air, her body feeling healthy and mind unclouded.
Safe. She felt safe. Tears popped into her eyes.
It couldn't be real, because she hadn't felt safe since she was a child. And she didn't cry. Not her, hell no.
Pansy returned to laying on her back and looked the opposite direction. "Hello." Her fingers tapped as if she were the one at the piano. "Gnossienne No.1."
More tears.
She'd know that face anywhere, despite the aged wrinkles and dark gray threaded through his beard and hair. The face of her once-enemy… the face of the only one who she could trust. A beam of sunlight fell across them—was it real? Is this how Neville saw her… or how she saw him? Bathed in sunlight. "Ready to wake up, kitten?"
Pansy blinked open her eyes and found herself in a bed she hadn't expected to be in again. Ever. The owner of the bed nowhere to be seen—and she didn't believe for a second that Hal was alive. Because she was the one who beat him into an unrecognizable pile of flesh. She was the one who ended his life.
Beside her Neville half laid back against the headboard, arm thrown over his eyes as if he meant to only doze.
Boots still on and several days worth of growth on his face. She did tell him to stop shaving. His shirt said 'I don't have a girlfriend, but I know a girl who would be very angry if she heard me say that'.
Idiot.
He was dead asleep, breathing deeply. His chest rising and falling steadily. It drew her in like a magnet. She'd never been addicted before. Manipulated and coerced, yes. But every cell in her body was screaming for a hit. She crawled over, as quietly as she could be, and laid her ear against his heart.
Thump... Thump... Thump-thump.
Slower than the average heartbeat. Still, it was much slower than before, when she died. When she thought she died in the forest under a Full Moon. Then, Neville had been running, his heart rate quicker for his efforts to save her. But the slower beat was hitting just as good, luring her in.
Pansy sunk into his chest, stretching out comfortably over hard muscles that felt perfectly warm against her cool skin. Fitting right against him. Convinced she was still dreaming, she indulged by running her fingers over his chest and upwards over his shoulders. Solid muscle and bone that could take a beating and dish out twice as much. That heart beat… she didn't understand her obsession with it, this need she had to listen. To feel his pulse against her ear or with her fingers.
It helped her breathe. It soothed her mind. Eased the aches in her body that not even days and days of sleep seemed to be helping. How long had she slept this time?
Was she still asleep?
Pansy didn't have time to wonder. She spent a few minutes listening to his heart before it began to speed up, a slight tremble in his torso. He sucked in a harsh breath—and let out a pain filled whine that made her think of nightmares.
"Wake up, Longbottom," she whispered, sitting up, pulling at his stupid shirt.
There was a shuffle outside the door and it opened quickly. Posy rushed in, wearing workout gear, her hair pulled back, and sweat on her brow. She jumped on the bed and started shoving Neville harshly.
Then he screamed. A sound she recognized all too well.
"Wake him up, quick!" she shouted, bashing against his chest. "Nev! Wake up! I need you!"
Posy's words spurred Neville to jerk awake, his eyes bloodshot red and his body trembling in fear. He launched off the bed and stalked around the room, gasping for air.
"She's not here, dummy!" Posy continued to shout, rushing after him. She pushed him as if she were trying to antagonize him on purpose, poking him in his sides and getting in his way. "She's dead."
"Boundaries," he growled meanly, voice full of sleep, continuing to stalk through the room.
Pansy realized why. He was checking for danger… because he was terrified.
"We're way past boundaries," Posy argued, following him around, poking him in the side. "My mother is dead! Why are you still afraid of her you dumb dummy!?"
"Damn it, PO!" he turned around to face her, grabbing out so quickly it had Pansy jumping up to intercept.
In that kind of mood? Neville wouldn't be able to stop himself from crushing Posy with his massive strength. She knew it first hand. She darted across the room at max speed, but stopped short when she realized he had Posy in a hug. One her sister was returning.
"She's dead. Pearl is dead," Posy cooed softly, petting Neville's messy hair, cheek against his. "I need to stop being so nice to you. Start giving you a reason to have nightmares about something else."
"How do you know I wasn't having a nightmare about you?" he said after some time, sounding less afraid.
"You'd only be so lucky, Nev." She crawled over his shoulders and got on his back. "Are you done being a huge dummy head?"
"No, are you?" he shot back. But he was looking at Pansy now.
That's why he never slept. Pansy watched him carefully, thinking about the reason he would be having nightmares. She heard with her own ears exactly what her mother did to Neville. Had it described to her on many, many occasions while she'd been trapped in Vistain's dungeons.
Her mother's voice slid across her mind like the vile poison it was, 'The blood smelled of ash as I pushed Glim into his vein…'
He handled Posy gently. Never harming her. But he still trembled.
"Nice shirt, Longbottom," she said, realizing her sister had the right of it. Best thing they could do was distract him from his fear. Give him shit for it.
"I got it for him," Posy grinned from her perch on his back. "For him to wear around Bobbi and her sisters."
"It was the only clean shirt I had," he mumbled grumpily, making sure Posy was secure. "Don't read too much into it."
"Mighty fittin' though," came a voice. "Considerin'."
Maybe she was still dreaming. With her state of mind lately? It was possible. But that voice sounded real.
Pansy turned, with that thought fresh in her mind, and faced Hal. Standing in the doorway, thick arms crossed across his chest, peering into the room… and very much alive.
His face looked disfigured and scarred, but mostly healed from the beating she delivered standing in Vistain's court nearly two months ago. And all that much stranger since they'd shaved his beard off to treat him. It made him seem younger.
Hal bowed his head towards her. "Blackguard…"
"You trying to piss me off, calling me by that name?" she sneered, ice forming over her fingers again. That fucking name the wolves gave her. But she didn't want to be that person. She didn't want to be the assassin Vistain made her in—no matter her blade desperately wanted to spring forward and cut through Hal for the emotional abuse he put on her.
Curling her fingers, she flexed them and released a haggard breath. Her control issues seemed to be getting worse, not better, despite all her fucking naps.
"Givin' respect where respect is due, ma'am." He lifted a stubby finger and brushed it across the most vicious of marks on his cheek.
"Ma'am…" Pansy shook her head, trembling with a bright, fresh wave of anger. People needed to stop calling her that fucking word. "You. You put me in that situation."
"Yeah," he nodded. "That I did."
"Where I had to beat you," she formed a fist, one she didn't release. "And drop off your damn body on Longbottom's sodding porch!"
"That you did," he nodded again, unaffected and face passive. Bastard. Didn't he realize what it fucking did to her to have to do such a thing?
"For what?" she shouted. "What good did it do but egg Ellie on? Damn you! I have to live with what I did to you, Hal. I have to live with it."
"Yep," he nodded, barely budging.
"Argh!" she marched over and kicked him in the ankle. Her ribs screamed in protest.
"Fuck!" he hopped around in pain but it didn't make her feel better. How fucked was she? Causing pain made her feel like shit, but it was all she was good for. Her magic was born to cause harm and death. An unbreakable sword she could form with a single thought and a wave of her hand.
"I'm glad you spent weeks in a coma," she told Hal, feeling mean and refusing to cry. As far as she knew, no one but Theo and her Papa had ever gotten her damn tears. Hal certainly wasn't getting them today. "I wish it'd been longer! What-good-did-it-do?! What good did me beating you to death do?"
"It got him," Hal said softly, yet creating a sharp silence that followed his words. He pointed at Neville, who watched the entire exchange without blinking. Then he said, "As we planned it, girly. I've been talkin' to folks around here about last Full Moon. It got him to you. I heard what he did at the pit. What he did for you, he did what no one could do. Even yourself."
Snapping, she started screaming. "What? What did he do? I don't remember. See?" She pointed at her neck. "I'm brain-damaged!"
"So nothins changed?" Hal snapped back. "What you don't remember is that man jumpin' into the pit with you and dragging you out despite impossible odds. That's what good it did, girly! It got you outta there! Away from Vistain. Too bad it wasn't quick enough."
Hal was looking at her shoulder. Her mauled shoulder.
"Arrrrrggghhhhhh! Get your damn gun! Now!" she demanded, the words pouring out of her mouth before she realized that's exactly what she needed. Take control of her situation, the narrative. Turn something ugly and broken into something beautiful.
"Gun?!" Neville and Posy shouted at the same time.
"No, no ma'am," Hal shook his head, backing out of the room, hands raised in surrender.
Like prey.
Pansy stalked after him. "Are you afraid of me? Hal? You? Of all people?"
"Yes, I surely am," he said, turning on his toe and dashing away with more speed than he should have possessed given his size. "I ain't touchin' anyone else's mate!"
"I am not his fucking mate," she chased him.
"He's dead then? Vistain? 'Cause I'm seein' that bite on your shoulder, girly. You might've beaten me into mulch but I ain't blind."
Hal ran down the stairs and he might've been fast, but Pansy found her legs were working properly. Her knee not aching like it had been. And something else. Something that came from the Pit. Determination erased the pain in her ribs. She caught Hal in three quick strides, ankle hooking his knee as he dashed through a messy living room, crowded with second hand furniture.
When he crashed it was hard enough to shake the entire house. The bookshelf he fell into rained paperbacks all over the floor. She stepped on his hand and knelt down, pressing her knee into his shoulder, placing a hand against his clean shaven face. If her fingernails left marks in his skin she didn't care and he flinched, preparing for agony.
For a wolf to touch another wolf's mate would bring pain as swift and great as a Cruciatus Curse—but none came. As Pansy knew her mate bond to Vistain was as dead as she was inside. There was no life there. It was why Neville could touch her.
"Is he dead?" Hal asked, full of hope. "Tell me he's dead, girly."
"Wish I could," she admitted. "Wish I could say I was capable of killing him."
"Then how? The mate bond should keep anyone from touching you," Hal sat up, utterly amazed at her and the soft touch she gave him.
"Sarah always said the Mate Bond was a living thing, maybe since Pansy's human…?" Posy's voice sounded out of place to Pansy. Her world was an ugly thing, and Posy didn't belong in ugly.
"No," Pansy stepped off Hal's hand and ran both sets of fingers through her hair, pushing it back and digging her hands into her neck. It felt so bumpy and ruined. Layers and layers of tissue damage.
Neville stood at the bottom of the stairs, Posy still perched on his shoulders, watching her lose it. He knew, she thought just by looking at him. He knew the answer. Perhaps the question came through her eyes, because a second later he nodded. "The collar allowed for the creation of the mate bond, it doesn't follow the normal rules."
"Ohh, that makes total sense," Posy said, patting Neville's head like a puppy. "You're so smart, Nev!"
Pansy's breath caught. They went and made a family together, but they were holding the door open for her.
"Hally?" Pansy turned and held a hand out to help the wolf to his feet.
"Whatcha need, girly?" he accepted the hand.
Sleep. Food. Tory. Her father. Control.
"You think you can work with this?" she exposed her neck to him, an act she would never do with another wolf. But this wasn't a wolf thing. It was a friend thing. It was an ink thing.
"I've worked with worse," he leaned in and studied her scars. Just the ones around her neck. They'd be there all day otherwise. "I can do a spider's web. Maybe lace, but it won't be even throughout. Could do layers of lace, but that might get complicated."
Hal smiled a big, toothy grin. "Fittin', if I do say so myself."
But Pansy's eyes lingered on Posy's, Hal's sweet inner nature not nearly enough to assuage the deep well of guilt inside her, nor the brittle grasp she had on her life at that moment. "What about flowers?"
A new collar. Hal laughed. "You think that suits you? It's permanent you know."
"Stick to black, it'll be fine."
"You're a hard woman, girly. Flowers would be perfect, and random enough to conceal all the scars," Hal agreed.
"You're talking about getting another tattoo," Neville spoke up for the first time.
"Another?" Posy gasped. "I wanna see your tats!"
"She only has one," Neville continued.
"She has two," Hal grinned, but his smile didn't go up as high as Pansy remembered.
"Two?" Neville asked, giving her a hard stare. He thought the tramp stamp Vistain put on her was the only ink she had. Wrong.
"Keep that to your damn self, Hal," Pansy warned. "Get your gun. We're doing this now."
"Sure 'bout that?"
"I'm sure," she snapped back. "Now."
It took about three hours, Hal's hand steady. She didn't even feel it as the needle stuck her. Just turned her head out of the way and exposed her neck to another wolf for hours at a time. It was the perfect exercise in control. And it reminded her that Hal could be, and always had been, a trusted friend.
The first man she let touch her after Spain.
He sang to her as he worked, reminding her of dessert sunsets and riding on the back of his bike in the way you're supposed to remember fond memories. Not the way the collar did. As if she were living through it all over again. There was a reason memories were supposed to fade.
Posy sat close, watching with fascination and asking question after question. Like what were her other tattoos? Couldn't she see them? Pllllleeeeasseeee?
But Posy's sweet inquisitiveness didn't stop the bad moment when Hal asked her to flip over, and give him her back. It made every bone in her body tremble at the thought of being that vulnerable with a big damn wolf behind her. "I can't," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. "I can't."
Her reaction was severe enough Posy ran for Neville, who'd been on the phone and circling the house looking for danger at every corner.
"Aw, girly, you know I'd never hurt you," Hal said, setting aside his ink gun and bracing his elbows on his knees as he bent forward. Putting his head lower than hers.
Posy returned, dragging Neville in behind her. "I don't need him," Pansy sneered.
"That's right," Nev tapped Hal on the shoulder, taking the wolf's chair. "You don't need anyone."
"You're damn fucking right," she said with a shiver, afraid her words were a lie. If they were, Neville would hear it. He would know the truth. So she repeated them and meant it. "I don't need anyone."
Neville leaned over her, catching her eye. They were only inches apart. They stared at one another, unblinking, a battle of wills, for so long her heart rate slowed down and she relaxed back in the chair.
"What are you afraid of?" Neville asked in the softest of whispers. Posy and Hal could both still hear, being wolves and all, but it implied they should leave the room.
"C'mon baby wolf," Hal said, lifting Posy up.
"I'm not a baby anymore, Hally. Jeez. I'm nearly as tall as Pansy now."
"She's a baby too, sometimes," Hal said, just before he shut the door, closing Neville and Pansy into the room. Alone.
"Are you afraid Hal will hurt you? Mount you?" Nev continued in a soft whisper. Which was worse. She'd rather he yell at her. Then she could yell back.
Hal would never do either of those things, and they both knew it. She flexed her fingers for a minute, taking steadying breaths. "Fear isn't always rational, Longbottom."
It wasn't Hal she feared either. It was being vulnerable, on her stomach, someone behind her. "I used to like it," she continued, reaching out and wrapping her fingers around his wrist. "Liked having a man behind me, holding me down by my face."
"No," he shook his head, voice still a whisper. Clearly remembering what it was like when he was behind her. "What you liked was knowing you could get out of it if you wanted. Having a balance of power. With Vistain you couldn't do that."
"You think you know me so well, don't you?" Her tone was sharp enough to cut, and she regretted it, withdrawing her hand and missing the feel of his pulse against her skin. "I know something about you too."
"This should be good," he leaned back, crossing his arms and getting comfortable. She thought maybe he did it to put her at ease. "What do you know, Parkinson?"
"You weren't dreaming of my mother."
Neville looked like shit. There were dark bags under his eyes and stress had taken a toll on his body. His muscles stood out with sharp relief, and not in that healthy, sexy way she once admired. When he woke up screaming earlier, it hadn't been the same as when she heard him over the phone once upon a time, when he was trapped in her mother's tender care. It had been slightly different. A different kind of pain.
"Posy wasn't far off," he explained. "It's not the first time she had to wake me up because I was dreaming of Pearl and what she did to me."
Little by little, Pansy relaxed into the chair, forgetting how freeing a conversation with Neville could be. She couldn't lie to him, even if she bothered to, he could discern the truth because he knew what was what. There was no pressure to watch what she said either, because she now knew first hand, he would throw himself into the pit for her.
"I don't regret many things," she started slowly, not entirely sure how to go about apologizing. Something she didn't do on principle. Something she never even considered under the Collar's influence.
"It was me, or Posy," Neville interrupted. "I'd do it again—if I had to."
"You didn't even know Posy then."
"I fell in love with her the moment I met her," he said, brutally honest and sounding like she'd peeled him open. "I don't want there to be any mistaking this. I love Posy. She's like a daughter to me. You know the first thing she did when she saw me that night? Threw herself in front of those kids. Stuck a knife right in my rib."
He lifted the edge of his shirt up and bent sideways to show her his right side, where right between his middle ribs was about a one-inch scar, sharp. Definitely caused by a blade. "That's how I knew she was your sister."
Before Pansy knew it, she was laughing. Just a little bit.
"Hal isn't going to hold you down," he continued, fixing his shirt. "Aside from the fact I know him well enough to say he would never do that, and aside from the fact you're stronger than him by far—"
"What's your point?"
"If he hurt you in any way, I'd tear his head from his spine."
He said it nonchalantly, as if talking about the weather. So casually. And all she could think about was how Hal said Neville jumped into that pit with her. Fuck. She wanted that memory.
Standing up, he stretched as if he were in pain, and looked down to her, meeting her gaze without fear or question.
"You're asking me to trust you again…"
"Not asking for anything," he told her harshly. "I'm reminding you that you need to get your fucking self under control. I'm not sitting around waiting for the Aurors to come and take you away from me. Or a mass of wolves to descend on us and drag you back to Vistain. The Full Moon is next week and while I would love to, there isn't enough time in the world to deal with your baggage."
His words hit her harder than any physical blow.
"Get. Your. Shit. Together."
Breaths ragged, she rose up on her elbows. He was right. She hated when he was right. "Yes, master," she sneered, not wanting to give him the last word.
Heat flashed behind his eyes but it was the only sign of emotion she caught before he walked away. "Hey! If you weren't dreaming about Pearl, who then?"
"Figure it out yourself," he yelled from the hallway.
Pansy didn't know anyone scarier than Pearl but she did know who she'd been dreaming about lately… and if he was having nightmares about her yet still fighting for her sanity...
Damn, she hated that goddamn Neville Longbottom!
oOo
Posy jumped up and down before she started running in place. Neville cheering her on. She threw out some jabs exactly as he taught her, making sure to keep her balance. Neville was big on balance. Can't do anything if you're falling on your face, he often said.
And, as he liked to remind her, basically all the time, falling ended up wasting energy she might need in a real fight. If she was going to do fall, do it on her terms.
Hal was finishing up Pansy's tattoo, which looked awesome. Posy couldn't wait to get her own tats! Neville was going to have a heart attack when she turned 17 and came home covered in ink. She couldn't wait to see the silly look on his face. She'd get one now if Hal would allow it. But he'd given her a firm no right off the bat.
Even Posy knew when to shelve a fight for later.
"Did you have a good talk with Pansy?" she asked, switching her footing up at his direction.
"That's private, Po," he told her. "Palms up, let's work on your balance."
Yep. She saw that one coming. Maybe if she did the exercises more often like he told her to. Whoops. She held her hands up as he came in front of her. They figured out this one a while ago. He used one finger, his index finger, and pushed against her palms. It was just enough strength to test her balance without sending her off flying.
Her wolf approved of either.
"C'mon, Nev, at least tell me you told her you loooove her."
"Private," he growled, tapping her hands in quick succession. Trying to throw her off.
But she was too good for that trick. Ha.
And her nose told her far more than he was letting on. He kind of smelled like Pansy. Who usually smelled of weapons and oil and leather to Posy's nose. And ever since Pansy's return, even more so. And right then, as Pansy hid out in the hallway eavesdropping on her conversation with Neville, Posy thought she smelled a bit like ice too. Really cold, really solid ice. Like the heart of winter.
"You're supposed to tell the person you love that you—ya know—love them, Nev. I can't believe I have to explain these things to you," she rolled her eyes and was happy to hear Pansy huff out a breath. Like a mini-laugh.
He stood up straight, no longer participating in their balance exercise. "You're not going to drop this subject are you?"
"Nope!" she smiled cheerfully. "I'm so delightful, aren't I?"
"Pain in my ass more like," Neville stepped back and sat down on one of Hal's comfy chairs, placing his elbows against his knees. "I won't ever tell Pansy I love her."
"WHAT?" Posy stomped her foot. "Why not!?"
"Because she won't believe me," he answered simply and honestly. "Your sister has been through a lot. She's been lied to too much and she's too stubborn to trust words. If you want her to believe you when you say something, you better back it up with actions that prove what you say. Understand?"
Posy pretended to think about it. "No," she tapped her chin. "You mean you won't tell her that you love her, but you will prove it with your actions?"
He glared. "Why are you messing with me right now?"
"Because it's fun," she grinned—but then caught something that didn't belong.
Neville smelled like he usually did. Like sweet wood and like home. Pansy smelled like the sword she could summon and the ink Hal put on her neck. Hal was still downstairs, smelling like leather and forest.
And just outside somewhere very nearby, was the scent of an unfamiliar wolf. More foresty, and dangerous. Unknown. "Nev?" she sniffed hard. "I smell a wolf. Not Hal. Someone else."
"Here we fucking go," he stood. "Got your knife?"
"Yes," she told him, being serious. "I know what to do."
Neville left the room and found Pansy leaning against the wall outside in the hallway. He paused, realizing he'd been had. God damn sisters. He realized if he got what he wanted, a family in Posy and Pansy, he would be permanently outnumbered. And somehow, that didn't concern him so much.
His eyes lingered on her neck. A bouquet of elegant and random flowers concealed the scars the collar caused. All done in black lines, Hal managed to make it seem neat and beautiful. Not too cluttered despite the damage he had to cover up. It spread out over the tops of her shoulders and down her back, disappearing underneath her black tank top. Petals bloomed upwards too, all the way up to her ears. "Up for a fight, sleepy head?"
"Right here, in front of my sister, Longbottom? You perv," she smirked, seeming like herself. Hopefully his earlier words stuck.
"I'll draw him out," he told her.
"Don't get hurt," she called in a sing-song voice. Disappearing the opposite way.
Neville took the stairs three at a time and casually walked out through the front door, pulling out his cell and calling Susan. Nothing in the front yard. He strolled around the tall duplex Hal lived in. There wasn't much room between the buildings and city sounds made it hard to listen for the intruder. The alley was barely wide enough for a garbage can.
"Nev? You okay?" Susan answered.
"All good, Susie," he kept his tone light, making his way around back and finding nothing. He headed for the front. "How's the bruise?"
"I told you before it's nothing," she complained over the phone loudly, going into a rant about both him and Draco taking the whole situation far too seriously. As he knew she would.
He made noises of disagreement to keep her talking as he hopped over a small fence and walked down the street at a leisurely pace.
"You know I've been taking care of myself since I was 16 years old—"
"No idea what you're talking about, Susie," he said absently, feeling eyes on the back of his neck. He continued down the bend, walking along the walkway and disappearing behind a tall fence that separated two neighboring yards, purposely walking down an alley that dead-ended. "You need a strong man to take care of you."
"Did you just call to rile me up? I've never wished death on someone—"
"Gotta go, Susie, I'll talk to you soon," he said, hanging up the phone and turning to meet the wolf following him.
He stood tall, kind of lanky, but wolf muscle made itself known underneath his gray t-shirt and ratty jeans. But it was the eyes that said Neville had met this wolf before. He just couldn't place him. Yet.
"Oh no, you seem to be trapped in this alleyway," the wolf called out. "What was it again? Long… bottom? What kind of name is that anyways?"
"Dunno, had it for as long as I can remember," Neville shrugged, making the motion bigger than he usually would. Pansy dropped down behind the wolf, a shadow of black and silver, and Neville coughed to cover up the sound. But he didn't think he masked it well enough. The wolf's eyes, lightening to a deep golden color, flicked to the side. "I know you."
"We met before. Outside a barn," the wolf shrugged, obviously trying to mimic the movement Neville made. "Though you might not recognize me in this form."
Neville realized who this wolf was. The one who caught him and Pansy the last Full Moon. He remembered the tall wheat grass, Pansy passed out unconscious, and the wolf smiling before he left.
"Fun night," he continued. "Lots of beheading and blood. Lotta wolves died that night, actually. That should make me sad… but my family has always had a taste for the more violent things in life. Isn't that right Pansy?"
"Think there's a lot I could teach you about violence, Felix," Pansy threatened, her voice an icy chill that scared the hell out of Neville. Not a tone she'd ever taken with him. There was usually too much heat between them.
It made him miss that playful kitten she used to be.
"Propositioning your mate's brother?" the wolf asked and Neville sucked in a breath. "And… my my… what have you done to your neck, sweet Pansy?"
Felix Vistain?
The wolf who caught Neville and Pansy last moon was Ellis's brother… who just walked away instead of fighting? It couldn't be. Why?
Pansy's eyes flashed with hatred. "How is my mate? Mr. Longbottom informed me I stabbed him in the eye with my own rib. I hope he's recovering," she added with a healthy dose of sarcasm.
"Ahh… that rib bone…" Felix swayed as he moaned with pleasure. "He picks his teeth with that bone. The only part of his mate he can hold onto."
"I'm going to get that bone back," Pansy stretched her arms out, her tight tank top stretching over her breasts. From her hand, her silver sword slid from her skin with an icy breath. The motion flawless as she spun the blade slowly. "After I break every bone in your body."
"Ah ah ah," Felix wagged his finger as if she were being a misbehaving child. "Now now, is that any way to treat the wolf that saved you last Moon?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Pansy sneered.
"Didn't Mr. Longbottom tell you?" Felix didn't turn his back on Pansy but he did gesture to Neville.
Pansy's eyes met his over Felix's shoulder. "What is he talking about?"
"I wouldn't use the word 'save'," Neville bit out. "He found me that night but moved on. Not sure why."
"One howl from me that night and a thousand wolves would've descended on your location," Felix told them, sounding as if he wished he'd done just that. "Would have been a bloodbath."
"What the hell do you want?" Pansy spat, turning her deadly gaze back to Felix. "Speak quick. My blade has a taste for wolf blood and I haven't killed anyone in weeks."
Felix swayed again. "So bloodthirsty, mate of my brother. If only you'd been a touch softer, you know that's what he loves about you. That bite."
Pansy stepped forward, her sword rising up, ready to strike.
"Alright, alright," Felix held his hands up. "Your mother had something of mine. No matter what I did to her, she refused to tell me where it is. Even when I offered to set her free."
"Hate to break it to you, but your goddamn brother burned down Pearl's home last year when he nabbed me. Everything inside went with it," Pansy twirled her sword in lazy circles.
"I know for a fact it left the house that night. It's an ivory make-up brush. And I want it," Felix leered, stepping into Pansy's space. "In return, should the moment come along when maybe you and this deadly Auror behind me have my brother in your sights, I might step aside?"
"Or I kill you now, and your brother later?" Twirl twirl. Ice shards remained in the air as it spun.
"Kill me now and the wolf I left behind at the house won't return your sister to you unharmed—at least, relatively so."
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