A/N: Hello! As usual, thanks for all the reviews and messages, they totally make my day. Not much in way of warnings for this chapter. Just some juicy, juicy emotional stuff and possibly the best line I've ever written for Ron Weasley in any of my fics. ^_^

Also hope everyone is staying safe~

Chapter 40

(Partners)

He hoisted Pansy up by her rear end over a tall wooden fence. She hadn't needed help, not at all. And Neville tried not to enjoy the smooth curvature and hard muscle of her ass, but he suspected she knew exactly how he felt when she shot him a heated look over her shoulder right before dropping down the other side.

Heated, because it could have been an invitation, or a warning. He jumped up and grabbed the top of the barked fence and swung himself over with one fluid motion, landing next to her soundlessly.

"What?" he asked, feigning innocence at her listless look. "Partners help each other out."

Sadly, she didn't give in and play with him. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"You said you need a place to make a secure call. They'll help us."

"Us."

She held out her hand at the same time he reached out to take it. And she hadn't asked a question but he clarified anyway. "Yes."

It seemed likely that Fake Lou—and he was only going to refer to Seraphina as Fake Lou because he had a stomach churning feeling that using her real name would attract her attention—was behind, or at least a part of, Posy's kidnapping. Why else would Felix Vistain have her business card? If not, Pansy seemed sure the Queen could track Posy down using the card she'd given Posy at St. Mungo's. Either way, they had to contact her. And more… Pansy seemed itching for a reunion with her former lover.

Neville wasn't so sure. Fake Lou barely blinked and somehow managed to force him on his knees. He didn't see how Pansy wouldn't know the dangers of meeting with her but he felt the need to warn her anyway. "She's stronger than me."

It was the way he said it, he realized, that clued her in. She squeezed his hand in comfort, which freaked him out as much as gave him a load of relief. It might take ages, but she was finally, finally beginning to trust him.

"So that's who you've been having nightmares about? Here I thought it was me."

"Plenty of those, too."

"Good." She didn't smile at him, but the look she gave him was almost as good.

"She called me something. Veritastra."

"Ah," Pansy's face turned hard. "Gave you that whole 'Last of her kind' bit, did she? Spoilers, Longbottom. Sera isn't like you."

"Wanna run that by me again?"

"Don't get growly," she warned. "It's not a good idea to lie to her. She's very very good at spotting a lie, even one of omission. A gift of age, I believe."

"Then why say so? It wasn't a lie when she said she was," he informed her.

"If I said I was a... Goji Gnoll, it would be true, because I just made it up and no one can say otherwise. You could very well be Veritastra, Longbottom. But Sera, no, she tells people she is because it stops them from even attempting to lie to her. Because she's good enough to spot a lie, even a cleverly hidden one. Now everyone in her court believes it. Her ability is Supernatural, so why ever lie to her? It's simply another way for her to control her flock."

She trailed off with a far away look, that pained expression coming over her face again. The one Neville suspected came from her attempt to recall memories. "She's very old, Neville. I don't know how old… I don't think Seraphina is her original name."

"You're not helping my nightmares any. What the hell is she?"

"Genetic lottery winner."

Neville sighed. He should know better by now than to expect a straight answer from the likes of a Parkinson. "Couldn't you give me more than that if we're going to confront her?"

Pansy stopped, eyes cast down towards the grass, making him pause as well. The wind rustled through the trees, allowing for a spec of sunlight to filter through and light up her face. It glittered in her silver hair, reminding him of years spent in the Mind Shards.

God he spent so long in there, running his fingers through that hair as it lost it's rich black color and turned silver. The years had whirled by, then he landed right back at the beginning... alone.

He wondered if he was the only one who remembered their time in the shards… did it even happen? He remembered every moment with blinding clarity, but still, it seemed more and more like a dream instead of reality the longer he spent outside the shards. Seraphina's warning suddenly made far more sense than it did at the time she delivered it. He hadn't understood the true 'reality' of his choice at the time, the choice to use the shards on Pansy. Everything that happened, Pansy wouldn't remember. But he did. He'd have to live with it for the rest of his life.

"Pansy?" he asked softly, not sure what to make of her silence.

The sunlight flickered over her face as she lifted her eyes to meet his. "Partners… Yes, I can give you more."

Pure honesty. It sounded brutal on his ears. And he knew she wasn't only speaking of information on Seraphina. Her hand lifted and pressed against her chest, as if to brace herself.

"Sera and I were lovers, Longbottom," she admitted in a quiet voice.

"I know, you told me. In the shards. Well, rubbed it in more like," he came to stand in front of her, wanting them on equal ground. If she were going to be honest with him, he would return the favor.

"I thought I had something in Rome," she swallowed. "With Sera." Another swallow, followed by a deep breath. "Something I never had anywhere before."

Pansy reached out and Neville followed the move, until her hand rested gently in his.

"Home," she smiled but it was pained and out of place. "But Sera had other plans for me, and I'm not suited to the politics of court, so I left. I've never belonged anywhere. Until..."

"Home doesn't have to be a place, kitten," he said gently when she couldn't go on. He could build any house, any where, and it would be home so long as Posy was there with them.

"We've strayed a bit," she cleared her throat and stepped back, releasing her hold on his hand. "I will tell you everything you need to know about Sera if I can arrange a meet. Remember, I left her, and I stole from her, she might not want to see me."

Neville wanted to laugh. Seraphina might be a mystery to him, but he knew one thing for sure. That meet was going to happen no matter what. The Italians he met before, when he and Pansy found The Adelaide where Annie Stokes was being held, all had obvious distaste for the wolves. It was reasonable to believe Fake Lou held the same contempt. If she was working with the Vistain's, with werewolves, it was purely to get to Pansy. A means to an end.

oOo

Much like Neville's property, Ron and Hermione owned a huge piece of land, mostly populated by alders and birch common to the area. They fenced it off and built a modest home that slowly came into view as he guided Pansy through tall grass and rocks and even over a small stream. As they approached the back side of the house the porch light flicked on despite it being the middle of the day.

He shoved aside his uncertainty and told Pansy, "I'll distract them."

"Isn't that usually my job?" If she was going for a joke it fell flat and she knew it too, by the sad look she shot him when she didn't think he was looking.

Neville, however, was reminded instantly of the night they went to Club Dread and that damn skirt she'd worn. When she danced for him that night, covered in leather and lace, it was only one of many things that caused the change between them. That dance had been just for him.

And distracting as hell.

"In this case," he mumbled, "I'd be a better target than you. My friends and I aren't all that friendly lately. Make your call, I'll keep them busy."

They watched the glass door swing open and Ron walk out with The Big Shot Gun. He loved that thing. "I know you're there," he called out. "My wife says I'm a terrible shot but even I get lucky on occasion!"

"Ronald!"

Beside him, Pansy stifled a short laugh. "I hate your friends."

"Who's that?" Ron shouted, pointing the gun in their direction. A gun he'd purchased when magic became unreliable and he felt the need to get something to defend his wife and future children with.

"No one you'll be getting lucky with, if that's what you're wondering," Neville called out. He pushed through a rather dense bundle of bushes and held way for Pansy to walk through, passing him as she stepped into a grassy yard.

"Do my eyes deceive me? Or is that the lovely Pansy Parkinson? Capable of standing up alllll up on your own now?" Ron grinned. The gun lowered. Unlike most of his friends, Ron had always admired Pansy. Both for her skill and her wicked humor. It never surprised him that Posy took to Ron the most. The man was as much of a sucker as Neville was.

Pansy planted her feet and crossed her arms. "Come a little closer, King Weasel and I'll show you exactly what I'm capable of."

"As I don't have a death wish, I think I'll stay right where I am, thank you very much," he called back. But he kept smiling.

Pansy winced, but Neville was probably the only one to notice it. That guilt was either going to drive her to do better, or be the death of her. Before he could tell Ron they just needed to use the phone and that they meant no harm to anyone in the house, Hermione walked out with a small baby monitor tucked into her back pocket and a small caliber gun in her hands.

He didn't realize Hermione had gotten familiar with the Muggle weapon and felt surprised by the confident way she held it. She'd voiced many times over the years her distaste for guns and the damage people could do with one.

But at the sight of them Hermione's look turned to relief. Then she just looked mad. Not regular mad. Hermione Mad. "Neville? Where. Have. You. Been?"

"Bit busy, 'Mione, mind if we use your telephone?"

"'Bit busy'? Did you just say 'bit busy'? Did he just say 'bit busy'?! Three weeks! I have been worried sick about you and Posy for three weeks! Ever since you took Posy from The Offices and disappeared! We kept waiting to see you three show up dead in a ditch somewhere—and all I get from you now that you're here is 'sorry, bit busy'?"

"I never said I was sorry," Nev told her evenly.

Which was the absolute wrong thing to say. Hermione's face pinched in anger as she lifted her gun and pointed straight at him. "I'll show you Sorry, Neville Longbottom!"

"Whoa!" Ron wrapped a hand around Hermione's gun as he put himself between his wife and Neville. "Down girl. Love you with that gun but really, I shouldn't have given you one. You're a bit barmy with it, love."

Pansy shot Neville another heated look, one even more indecipherable than the first. While Ron whispered words they couldn't hear to calm down Hermione, Pansy opened and closed her mouth several times.

Finally she asked, "Did you go against all of your friends to save me, Longbottom?"

He didn't feel like answering such a stupid question, so he turned back to Ron and Hermione. "I am sorry. If I could have done things differently… but I'm not here to intrude. Posy's been kidnapped by wolves, and we could really use a secure phone right now. May we come in?"

Hermione poked her head around Ron's tall form.

"He's not sorry," Pansy called, keeping her arms crossed. She glared right at him. "He only apologizes for behavior he intends to change."

"And Pansy doesn't apologize at all," Neville copied her position. "Bobbi will rain down fire on you for helping us, but you can call her… right after we use the phone?"

"If you had left Posy with us, she would have been safe," Hermione insisted. She handed Ron her gun and walked down the back steps to stand before him.

"You mean I should have left her in prison?" Neville growled. "When I find out which one of you is responsible for locking her in a silver cage—"

"As if any of us would've kept her in there for very long!" Ron shouted, turning around to join the fight.

At the same time Hermione yelled, "If you would stop to think about it, you might understand the why of it, Neville!"

"Do you realize how many people saw her push Susie down? All the wrong people, I might add, we put her in The Pin for her own protection."

Neville hated how easy it was to fight with his friends, but necessary and easy rarely went hand in hand. "The Pin is not for someone's protection, it's for criminals and out of control wolves. Posy is neither of those things."

"Emmanuel Winston witnessed the entire thing, and everyone knows Posy is a wolf. Your wolf. A slap on the wrist would not have done her any good."

"You were out of it Neville, understandably so, but you might've missed it when half the government descended down on St. Mungo's to make sure Pansy didn't wake up and escape. You threw Posy at them in order to do just that, which was awesome! By the way…" Ron smiled as if remembering a fond memory. "But they're terrified of her after what happened at the Ministry. And Posy is her only family left."

"That means we had to put her in The Pin, to 'punish her properly'," Hermione seemed disgusted by her own words. "Your actions when you broke her out of jail means they won't stop pursuing you and Pansy, they won't stop until they capture you, Nev. Basically… you're toast."

She threw her hands in the air, huffing out her frustrations as she often did.

An action Neville copied in order to keep their attention. "Did you have to put her in a silver cage though? You know as well I how she is about cages! She blistered and bloodied her fingers to get out of it! She hurt herself to get out of there, those that put her in there are responsible for those hurts."

"What are you going to do?" Hermione screeched, loud enough both Neville and Ron winced. "Rage a war against all your friends? That sounds like a stupendously terrible idea! And a great way to lose those friends—"

"Call's done," Pansy told them, coming out of the house.

She stepped out from behind Ron and Hermione, hopping off the porch with a lithe movement. Startling both of them as she did. Ron screamed significantly higher than Hermione. That, added with Pansy's obvious nonaggression, made the situation more funny than anything.

Pansy took up the spot beside Neville and crossed her arms again as if she never left.

"I didn't see you move!" Ron screeched, pulling Hermione in protectively. "When did she move?"

"Of course I understand, Hermione," Neville offered, gentling his voice. "Call Bobbi so you don't get into any trouble."

Pansy took his hand and they turned to walk away.

"Wait, Nev," Hermione called out. "Come in, please, can't we help at all?"

He looked to Pansy. She was doing a damn good job of covering up her fatigue. "Do you need to sleep?"

She shrugged, muscles tense beneath her clothing. His were too. They shouldn't have had that alcohol at Rufus's, but he wasn't sure what other way to get her to trust him. Taking that shot had done more good for them than harm to his muscles. Her fingers tightened around him as if she knew what he was thinking of.

Of course she did. She knew him as well as he knew her. The whiskey was worth the discomfort of his tight muscles if it meant Pansy was that much closer to trusting him.

She said, "I might be okay without it. The meeting won't happen until tonight, but I still want to search for that brush beforehand."

"Nap for an hour, then we'll swing by my place?" he suggested. If anyone had that make-up brush, it would be Posy. And her bedroom was a bottomless pit of items and clutter only a preteen girl could muster up.

Of course, he'd rather be tracking down Posy by whatever means necessary, even if he had to tear apart the entirety of London to do it. But at Hal's place there was no sign of any struggle, no sign of where Hal went either. He had to assume he went after Posy and her abductor…. Or abductors. His best bet was to go with Pansy. She wouldn't lead him astray… er.. Not anymore than usual. She wanted to find Posy as badly as he did.

"Okay," she nodded. She must've been tired if she were agreeing with him.

"As long as you put off that call to Bobbi."

Hermione stuck her nose in the air. "For your information, Bobs is not my boss nor is she or ever was Ron's. Now stop acting so stupid or I really will shoot you."

oOo

After a hot bowl of leftover stew, Neville shoved about a gallon of water down her throat. She listened to a few heated words between Hermione and Neville where the angry witch informed him of exactly how stupid she thought he was behaving, before the witch whisked Pansy away.

"Help yourself to anything in my closet you need," she said helpfully.

"Not bloody likely," Pansy snapped, remembering that horrible pink turtle neck. Though she would prefer Granger's swotty clothing to the slutty outfits Vistain had made her wear.

"Look," Hermione led her through a large, comfortable looking bedroom in warm tones Pansy hadn't expected and into a bathroom that opened into a closet. "You'll sleep better if you're clean with clean clothes. Take a shower. Change. Sleep. You need to, in order to do... whatever it is you're up to with Neville. At least look in the closet."

Hermione gave her a rather obvious stare down before walking away and leaving Pansy alone, which made her breathe out a sigh of relief. Nothing had been okay since she woke up, only Posy. Only the calming presence of her wonderfully innocent, smart-mouthed sister had been any source of comfort. And Sera and Felix fucking took her.

If it had been anyone else, or for any other reason, she would have taken the designer gown hidden away at the back of Granger's closet. Honor demanded she meet with Sera in high fashion, something worthy of such a meeting with her Highness.

But it had been a long time since Pansy played court games. And she refused to do so tonight. Instead, she fingered through the colorful, practical clothing hung neatly before her and found something wholly unexpected. Perhaps the reason for Hermione's obvious look.

A new, black leather jumpsuit with a high collar and matching utility belt. The leather wasn't as good as Pansy's usual, a sharp enough blade might cut through, but it beat out a turtle neck any day. A note pinned on the hanger said, If Pansy ever comes around.

Even Neville's friends believed she would be back. Or Hermione and Ron had a super fun sex life. Either way...

"Oh fuck Neville's friends."

She showered and changed quickly, zipping up the front of the crisp leather suit and feeling happy to see the new ink on her neck would be on display. Seeing it would throw off Sera, who had a major distaste for tattoos of any kind. Pansy wondered for a moment how she might go about showing off the one on her back, but the leather covered it completely.

The sleeves were the right length and fit nicely under her cuffs, which she snapped on with a satisfying smirk. She slid her dagger into the belt which had to be tightened another notch. She lost too much weight in the pit, but she would get back what she lost. And she would do it with zeal.

She slicked her wet hair back and put the clothes Kingsley had lent her what seemed like weeks ago into what she assumed was the dirty laundry basket. Then she walked from the room and across the hall.

Coming to stand in front of a hand carved crib, she looked down at a sleeping baby not yet a year old. The curly tuft of hair on the very top of her head was Weasley colored and there was no denying it. The baby didn't move other than small, even breaths that soothed Pansy immensely. There was a time, although brief, when she believed she would have a child of her own with Theo. Such feelings disappeared a long time ago, but there was no denying that the little Weasley baby was a bright spot in this horrible world.

There was a rocker beside the crib, and Pansy positioned it to face the door, putting herself between it and the baby. Then she sat down and immediately fell asleep. She couldn't help it. She felt comfortable for the first time since she'd woken up with silver hair and a huge gap in her memories, and too, she felt driven to find Posy and send Sera back to her home. Hopefully for good.

Instantly, she fell into a dream. One where she stood in the pit and when she looked up to Vistain's balcony, she spotted his cruel eyes peering straight into her. It wasn't a matter of if, but when. She would return to him one way or the other. But this time... no. She couldn't. She turned on her toe and ran. Ran as far as she could. Until she was alone in the bright forest lit by the Full Moon with a little black wolf with bright blue eyes. As she watched, Posy threw her head back and let out a howl that could rival any wolf's. Her eyes deepened to a brilliant indigo as she howled, the baying sound spreading out through the forest like the ocean tide coming in.

That howl… it said come forth.

Wolves came through the trees by twos and threes, sitting at Posy's feet and awaiting her command.

Pansy turned in a circle and summoned her sword, afraid for her sister. So tiny and small, yet more and more wolves came. Vistain's wolves were dangerous. Underfed, afraid, and desperate to the point of cruelty—just like their leader. She couldn't take them all, not at once, unless they were funneled through the pit group by group.

Here in the forest, she was outnumbered and circled in. But she could take out more than a few and hopefully give Posy a chance to get away. She looked for her dark eyed man and found only golden and amber wolf eyes staring back.

No, they looked to Posy. And howled when she did.

A pain through her heart, it stretched from her chest up to her right shoulder. She didn't belong. She belonged nowhere and to no one. Not even her sister. The knowledge slipped into her mind, and like a light turning off, the Moon went out, leaving her in utter darkness.

Pansy found herself standing in the training room at the Academy, sword in hand. She twirled it around lazily, her motion fluid and comfortable. It sent waves of cool air across her skin as she twirled, channeling her control and preparing to teach a most valuable lesson.

Sera watched from her perch on the balcony above, a heavy mix of admiration and lust in her jeweled eyes. Her royal gown adorned with silver chains drew Pansy's eye. I see you, ladra. This is where you belong. I won't let you slip through my fingers again...

"A real fight is over quickly," she informed in a clipped voice. "A fight for your life will wear you out far faster than you think. Therefore, you must fight to win. And you must win quickly."

"And what if we are defeated?" a student called out.

"You're only defeated when you're dead," Pansy snapped. "If you're dead, you can't do anything. Don't die."

The scent of birchsap water filled her nose. Sweet and woody and promising, and a toad croaked in her ear.

Pansy rolled over, her back pressing into a familiar, velvety leaf. Feeling warm despite the small snowflakes that fell on her cheeks. She left everything in the past, growing out of her childhood hobbies like her cello and music lessons, leaving behind her first love in Theo and her father, and forgetting all about that cheerful hope she felt when holding Posy as a baby.

Neville wasn't the only one who had changed, she realized suddenly.

She had changed too, by leaving everything behind and becoming the kind of woman she had to be in order to survive in the pit. But one thing remained the same. She was an assassin, though not by choice, and a good one at that.

So many years did not mellow the anger she felt at Vistain for what he did, but they gave her a unique sense of clarity to look at the situation and know what needed doing.

It was time to wake up.

Pansy just needed someone to run into the fire with. His aged fingers ran through her long, silvered hair. "Wake up with me, kitty cat."

"I'm thinking about it," she told him. "There's one thing I'm good at."

"You're good at more than one thing," he said, tugging her hair softly, running up and down through the strands, caressing the back of her head. Loving her.

"You're right," she stretched out across his chest like the kitten he claimed she was. "I'm good at a lot of things. But there's only one thing I'm great at."

She hummed. "And I think I need to do it one more time."

Pansy opened her eyes to the sound of a baby's soft cries, her hand around a struggling wrist. She was going to do it. Her mind was fragmented, the mate bond muted just enough, she would be capable of killing her mate. Something in her mind turned, like a key in a lock, and the memories of Pearl and Vistain's estate bombarded her.

You aren't listening, bébé... you are human. Pearl's voice was silk in Pansy's ear, as if her mother were speaking to her right then and there.

"I can kill him," she snarled.

"Christ woman," Ron shouted over the baby's cry. "Let up a bit, I like having a hand I can move, thank you very much."

"I bet you do, Weasley," Pansy snapped, jumping up and shoving him away. He stumbled only a moment before righting himself.

"Rude. Do you mind if I tend to my own daughter? I thought 'Mione put you in the guest bedroom?" Ron dipped over the crib and came up with a bundle in his arms. "My little babe, being looked after by your guardian—well I must be tired because I was about to call you an angel, Pansy."

"Hold your blasphemous tongue," she mumbled without any heat. The dream she'd been having just before she awoke wasn't fading like regular dreams often did. She could still feel the snowflakes on her cheeks and hear the howl of Posy's wolf, of Pearl's voice.

"I have to go, where is he?"

Ron grinned, bobbing up and down with the baby in his arms. "Probably still getting swatted by Hermione. She's brilliant when she's angry. Scary, but brilliant. Do you know where Posy is?"

"Hal went after her, so I'm fairly certain she's fine, if on a bit of an adventure. If Hal missed her, then-"

"Ahh, she's givin' them hell," Ron sneered in a very male way. "Hold on baby girl."

"What do you care about her?"

Ron turned his sneer at her. "See this hat here?" he asked, gesturing to a little pink thing hanging off the edge of the crib. "Posy knitted it. She did the embroidery herself. Besides 'Mione and I, and my mum I suppose, Posy has probably held Rosie more than anyone else. She's the kind of girl you spend 5 minutes with and end up signing over all your possessions to, swearing an Unbreakable Curse for, and buying every chocolate covered thing in the store for. But it's okay, because she would do just about anything for those she loves. You messed up, Parkinson. You left Posy in Neville's care? Neville doesn't know squat about family, so he made sure she was surrounded by us instead."

It made Pansy kind of glad to know so many would throw themselves in front of danger for her little sister, despite feeling a little left out. But hell would freeze over before she ever commented on her gratitude for fucking Ron Weasley. "I hate all of his fucking friends," she sneered, sticking her nose in the air.

Then she walked out of the room and right into Neville. She bounced off his hard chest inelegantly, her balance still messed up from that horrible fucking dream. Bracing against the hall wall, she glared at him.

"What?"

"Everything okay?" he asked neutrally, eyeing her up and down.

"No. What gave it away?" she snapped meanly. Which only made him smile. It hit her then. That smile... him. Her dream hadn't been a dream. At least that last little bit hadn't been. No, that part had had happened. In the Mind Shards.

She remembered.

"You slept for an hour," he told her. "And... you look better."

"Better than you, that's for sure."

His face spread into a very male smile as he leaned a little closer. "Yeah, you're feeling much, much better kitten."

oOo

Hermione dropped them off at the back edge of Neville's wall and said, "Please just be careful. I'm not going to call Bobbi... she's dealing with a lot right now."

"Thanks, 'Mione, take care okay?"

"I will. Stop..." she gulped. "Stop pissing me off," she bit out, as if ashamed to use such a bad word.

"Ahh," Pansy smirked, leaning down to peer at the woman through the car window. "You got that word from Neville? You know he got it from me? It's a gateway swear, Granger. Only a slippery slope 'til you're using fuck with regularity."

"I will not, and you'll take care to stop pissing me off too, Pansy Parkinson." Hermione checked her mirrors and then pulled off into the road with confidence, leaving Pansy with the uneasy feeling she often got around Neville's friends.

"This is new," she said, gesturing to the stone wall that came up well above her head before she did something insane like admit she might like Hermione Granger-Weasley of all people.

"Warded," he told her. "You have a knife?"

"Blood wards?" she paused. "How can it be new and warded?"

"Gold," he held his hand out, palm up. "A lot of gold."

"I have my picks."

"I'd rather key you in now, in case we need a place to bolt later. They can get into the house easily, but the woods surrounded by the wall? Not so much."

"Then I can come any time," she smirked lewdly.

"You could before," he smirked right back.

Her dagger was silent as she drew it from her belt, and he immediately curled his fingers. "C'mon, honeybun, don't you trust me by now?"

"Ho ho ho, you're definitely feeling better. And hell no I do not trust that blade anywhere near me," he growled, showing her the faint scar on his other hand.

Ah, she'd forgotten about that cut. The one she gave him at The Conservatory nearly a year ago. "Does it hurt?" she purred. "Should I kiss it all better?"

Which only made his eyes bulge. "Not as bad as the other."

The way he said it, it felt like a caress and a threat all at once. It got her blood pumping—in all the right ways. She wanted to kiss all his scars, the way he was talking to her.

She spun the dagger once before bringing it to her opposite palm, slicing a small cut with wicked speed. She didn't even feel it, it happened so quickly. Holding up her blooded palm, she raised an eyebrow at him. "Not cold."

"Use a different blade."

"I don't have a different blade, my backup stash is at the house, which is compromised at the moment remember? Well... except..."

Another spin and her dagger went back into the belt before she summoned her sword.

His eyes turned hard. "It's literally made of ice, kitten, you're telling me it doesn't have the same effect as your dagger? Yeah fucking right."

"I dunno," she shrugged, smile turning mean. "Everyone who's ever met this blade wasn't exactly around afterwards to tell me about it."

"Fuck it, just do it then," he held out his hand again, resigned.

Stepping right up to him, she delicately took his opened palm into her hand, bringing her sword upwards and over in a smooth motion she kept slow enough for him to follow. The blade hovered just above the rough skin.

He hissed out but didn't move. "Certainly feels like you, kitten."

"Tell me," she demanded.

"Cold. Hostile. Sharp."

"I love it when you whisper sweet nothings into my ear, but now's not the time, darling," Pansy drawled.

He let out a quick, bark of a laugh. "Always ready for a damn fight is what it feels like," he snapped out at her before jerking upwards.

Holding her gaze, Neville reached up and wrapped his hand around the thickest of one blade with pure brawn. The muscles of his arm rippled as he moved but her eyes dipped to his hand. Beneath his touch, her weapon, made of silver and ice, turned into a soft column of water, rippling the same way his muscles did. He held on for several moments, both of them in awe at what seemed to be a delicate piece of magic.

"That shouldn't happen," Pansy mumbled under her breath.

"No?" he asked, suddenly quite smug. "Get your dagger."

As quickly as she summoned it, the sword disappeared leaving behind a frost trail that floated in the air briefly before disappearing altogether. "Don't read too much into it, Longbottom."

Her dagger came out for the second time and swiped across his palm before he could speak. "Whatever you say, kitty cat."

"Stop calling me that."

He hissed out again, blood welling up from the thinnest of cuts across his palm.

"Whatever you say, kitty cat," he grinned, reaching out and grabbing her bloodied palm with his own.

The moment their blood combined sent a shock wave through her, magic tingling through her body pleasantly, if overwhelmingly. It felt like him. Strength and determination and that god damn stubbornness.

He moaned the way men did, as if she'd caressed him, staggering backwards until his back hit the stone wall. He brought her with him, loathe to break the connection. It filled, a rocking sensation of power, pure relentless power. Him to her, her to him, before he took their palms and pressed their blood into the stone wall. Their fingers still touched, their blood red with life.

He moaned again. "Oh, God, Pansy."

"You think you have any power over me?"

"No more than you do me," he groaned out, the wards shimmering where their blood dripped over stone.

She laughed then. She knew exactly what she had. After waking up from the Mind Shards, she'd callously accused him of thinking of her as a weapon he could point at whoever he pleased. Accused him of being like Vistain.

But she was wrong—they were partners, the power between them was pure.

Balanced.

Equal.

He could point her the same way she could point him, and their goals were, for once, totally aligned. She'd never had such a relationship. The realization made her moan, the way he had. The intimacy of their blood combining sent warmth up her spine and left her ready for anything.

It was the best she'd felt in a long, long time.

"What would you do for me, Neville?" she asked, letting the ward recognize her blood in Neville's. Giving it the time it needed to allow her entry.

And she shouldn't have asked. Because he pulled her close, hand tight on her hip, until their fronts were pressed together and their hands were clutching the wall. The intimate connection felt like fire to her ice. Yin to Yang.

And he growled in her ear, breath hot on her neck, "You're fucked up, I know you are. I can't change that. Vistain, Sera, all of them. I know what you went through, what they put you through. They would do anything to have you, to possess you. Anything. The difference between them and me though? I would do everything for you."