Night lingered beyond the window panes as they sat in the living room. After his attack in the greenhouse, he had talked about everything with his uncle, who had offered no advice except to say that time healed all wounds. He knew that wasn't the case, time didn't cure anything, just put distance between the victim and the pain's memory. He felt better for having discussed it but still felt raw and hollow. The pain was still too recent. After the long day of chores was done, his gran had tried to get him to eat, but the thought of eating made him feel queasy. He remembered his time at school before Halloween where she couldn't talk to him and wondered whether he would ever get over it.
He looked down at the book in his hands. It had been his father's book, and he had returned to again and again as a source of comfort and escape. It was a muggle swashbuckling romance with comedy and danger mixed in. It was a strange story, but it had always managed to cheer him up. As he looked at the worn, red cover, he couldn't help but relate the castle on the outside to Hogwarts.
He felt like the past four months could have been a plot from its pages, plots to kill people, people being not what they appear, and the princess sacrificing herself so that her lover would live. He only hoped that his tale would also have a happy ending. He couldn't bring himself to read the words despite opening the page at his last bookmark. He knew that the words would bring him no comfort, nor would the worlds carry him away from his thoughts.
He looked up at his gran across the dimly lit room and frowned. She had the wireless on and appeared to be knitting, but her eyes were on the fire, and her needles were still. He watched her for a moment. If he didn't know better, he would have said that she was waiting for something.
"Gran?" He asked, his voice gravelly and sore as he croaked at her. Her head rose as she looked at him.
"Yes, my boy?" She asked innocently.
"Are you alright?" He asked as he placed the book down and leant forward.
"Me? Why I'm fine. What about you? Have you eaten anything yet today? Do you need me to make you something?" She asked, and he knew that she was trying to distract him.
"I'm not hungry, thanks Gran," he assured her.
"You really should eat something, I'll make something in a little while," she muttered as her face gained that faraway look again, Her hands poised to knit but remaining still and silent.
The clock struck seven, and he wondered whether it was too early to go to bed. He felt hollowed out and exhausted and knew there was even more work to do tomorrow. Remembering some of the jobs, she had asked him to do made him wonder whether she was having another senile episode. Extra duvets and pillows brought out and washed, more towels for the bathrooms, polish the spindles on the stairs. The list went on, and part of him wondered whether she was just trying to keep him busy so that he didn't have the time or energy to think. He went to stand, picking up the book from the table. Bed sounded like a good idea, where he could finally be alone with his thoughts.
A flash of green flames captured his attention, making him jump as the fireplace erupted into life. He looked at his gran, who placed her knitting needles down as she started to get to her feet.
"Permission granted," she called to the flames as she stood, moving away from the hearth.
"Gran? What's going…" He started when the flames flared, and a woman appeared clutching a bag and a letter. She cried out with surprise as the flames behind her died away as though they had never been there.
"What in Salazar's name?" Pansy exclaimed as she looked around "Where am I?"
Neville stood and stared as he took her in. She was real, and whole and seemingly unharmed. Pansy was stood in his living room. Rooted to the spot, his mouth dry and his mind blank he could do nothing else but stare at her.
"You're at Longbottom House, Miss Parkinson." His gran explained as she held her hand out for the letter. "Neville? Would you please take Miss Parkinson's case to your room,"
Had he heard that right? Her case to his room? He had so many questions. He moved slowly forward, reaching for her suitcase when she pulled it out of his reach.
"Longbottom house? Why would my mother send me here? I've obviously stepped out at the wrong grate. My apologies." She nodded as she looked around the fireplace for the floo powder.
"It's not a mistake, my dear girl. Your mother explains all in this letter. This is where you are meant to be for the next few days. After that, you are free to do as you wish."
"Days? I'm meant to be staying at the Montegue estate for Christmas. I demand you release me." She said, stamping her foot.
Neville couldn't take his eyes off her. Her cream coloured pencil skirt, and matching jacket highlighted the purple of her shirt as the cream pearls clung to her throat. He wasn't sure he had ever seen her in such an expensive outfit. He wondered whether this is what she would normally choose, or whether it was something that her governess or father had chosen. He felt her eyes on him for a moment and chanced a quick glimpse to meet them.
They were the same stardust colour that he had fallen in love with, and his heart ached.
"This is your doing, isn't it? You arranged this, didn't you?" She asked angrily as she pointed at him. "I am going to hex Blaise into the next life for this," she swore.
"Miss Parkinson, please. Listen to what your mother writes. She states that you are not yourself, nor are you thinking clearly. That you need distance and perspective from the matter of your engagement before she can, all in good conscience let you proceed with the union. She asked that you remain here for one week. You are then free to either continue on the path laid before you or choose your own. Now, would you like a cup of tea?"
Silence filled the room as she shook her head.
"You can't do this to me, nor can my mother. I am leaving." She said as she gripped her wand and turned on the spot, clearly trying to apparate away. Nothing happened. Pansy growled before looking at the fireplace again for the container of floopow.
"It's no good. I have been made temporary legal guardian of you, and have changed the wards accordingly. Now, let Neville show you to your room, and I'll make us all a brew." She moved slowly out of the room as they both watched her leave, awestruck.
Neville took a deep breath and reached for her case again, only for Pansy to pull it away from his defensively again.
"I can carry my own luggage, Thank you very much." Neville nodded without saying anything. He moved passed he and waited for her to follow him. When she finally did, he travelled up the stairs, watching as she followed him up.
"The bathroom is here," he said, pointing to the room as they passed it. "The floorboards are really noisy here, Gran will hear you if you go wandering about at night. She's a light sleeper."
"Oh great, not only am I imprisoned here, but I also have my own cell guard." She muttered bitterly.
Neville ignored the remark as they continued along that landing to his room.
"This is my room. Neville said as he held open the door for her. She stepped passed him, and her scent of cherries and violets caught him off guards as the knife twisted in his heart. Even if she was here, she wasn't his Pansy. She didn't remember their relationship.
"I guess it could be worse," She said as she looked around. "Least it's a pretty room, bit cold though."
"Erm, yeah. The plants prefer the colder air and the fireplace doesn't work, but I can get you more blankets and cast a heating charm If that's alright?" He asked.
"I suppose it will have to do," She said with a sigh. "Not quite the luxury I was expecting to be enjoying this week." She slowly walked into the room, looking at his bookshelves and plants. Her eyes moved over all the surfaces until she reached the bed. "Is that my jumper?" She asked with a frown.
Heat flooded his face as he pulled at his hair. "Yeah, it is. You hid it in my case." He explained.
"Why would I do that?" She asked, picking the jumper up to hold it against her chest. "This is weird,"
"I told you we were friends." He said sadly. He swallowed. "I'll leave you to get comfortable. The kitchen is just downstairs to the left." He looked at her for a moment longer before retreating out of the room.
He paused as he leant onto the bannister and took a shaky breath. What was going on? Why was she here? He hoped that it was a good sign. However, he wouldn't hold his breath. He left the first floor, needing answers. As he moved into the kitchen, his gran stood there, mug in one hand and holding out the letter to him with the other.
Frowning, he took the letter and started to read it.
'Mrs and Master Longbottom,
I hope this letter finds you healthy and safe, I wish to offer you my deepest gratitude for doing me this great service. My daughter's freedom is my only priority. She will be unwilling and ungrateful at first, that is her father's conditioning. Please give her time and space, and you will find that she will be grateful and gracious in due course.
Since my marriage to her father, I knew that I could not stand idly by as my own tragic fate befell any child of mine - married off to an unfamiliar groom to carry on the family line against her wishes, whilst someone who truly loves her can only stand by and watch.
Since Pansy's birth, her aunt Euphorbia and I have saved money for her in a secret vault at Gringotts, knowing that she would be disowned for her unwitting disobedience. The key can be located in her case. She need only present it to the goblins to gain access. When the Montegue's report her disappearance, Linden will assume that she has run away. It is in her nature and will freeze all access to the family account.
When she arrived home from Hogwarts and discovered the relationship between her and your grandson, his fury was terrible, and Pansy paid the price.
Due to our marriage vows, I am magically bound to silence. However, her loss of memory is only temporarily. He took great pleasure in knowing that she would wake up married to a thug remembering her loving 'Gomez' and knowing that it was too late. That the wound in her heart would be her life-long punishment.
I speak from experience when I say that I would much prefer Azkaban than suffer so again. I will not stand aside and let my daughter be dealt the same cruel blow. If she decides that she still wishes to proceed with her father's wishes, she will not be disowned. But I believe that this will not be the case.
Upon our meeting in the drawing-room at the Yule party and the discussion that followed, Neville, I knew that you would take better care of my daughter than anyone ever has. That night, you convinced me that it was the right course of action. Be it for only a year and a day or for a lifetime, I could clearly see the love you have for my daughter, and I give you my blessing to court her and anything which may follow.
I wish I could discuss this with you myself. Still, alas, further communications will give away her position, and I will not risk her further. I hope that one day, I will be able to personally offer you my regards and thanks
Yours faithfully
C.P'
Neville reread the letter and felt sick but relieved as he looked up to his gran.
"You knew that this was going to happen," It was a statement not a question, but she answered anyway with a nod.
"The owl I got this morning was from Mrs Parkinson asking for my help. She will stay with us as long as she needs if that is alright with you,"
He nodded, feeling blindsided and confused before he slid into the chair at the table.
"Here's you're tea." She said, placing the mug before him before squeezing his shoulder. "It'll be alright in the end," she assured before returning to her perch against the worksurface as they listened to Pansy move around in his bedroom above.
