Pansy never came back downstairs, and the moving above them stopped. He was often tempted to go up and check on her, but he remained in his seat by will alone, all the tiredness gone now from his bones. He reached the bottom of his mug before he or his gran spoke.
"Better go check on her, my boy. Take her up a brew," She said, pouring a fresh mug.
He stood slowly and nodded. He wondered what he would say to her. She was like a stranger to him. "Just be yourself lad, he memories will come back, you just need to give it time," His gran soothed with a smile and another comforting pat on his shoulder as she handed him the mug of tea. He twitched his lips in the way of a smile before turning to leave.
His footsteps sounded much too loud on the wooden stair as he slowly climbed his way up. Mind racing and heart pounding, he wondered what he would find. He knocked on the door. It felt strange to be knocking on his own bedroom, but he waited for an answer. When no answer came, he pushed the door open slowly and peered into the darkness. The light from the hallway cast a triangle of yellow into the room as he pushed in. He saw her feet first, clad in stockings still as her long pale legs disappeared under her cream skirt.
Blank and calm, her face looked younger as she slept, some of her make up smudged at the edges as she lay on the covers. Neville moved closer, pulling his wand from his pocket. With a whisper and a flick, she started to lift off the quilt. Neville put the mug of tea on his desk before he pulled the covers out from under her. With a second flick, she lowered to the bed, the springs creaking slightly beneath her weight. He watched her for a moment as her plump lips parted and a sigh escaped her, before pulling the covers up and over her. She sighed again as she cuddled them closer, her skin on her arms puckering in goosebumps.
He remembered all those nights in Lumos tower where he had comforted her as she woke from her nightmares, or watched her sleep when he was roused by his own. He cast a warming charm over her, hearing her moan with contentment before turning around to leave.
"Thank you," She murmured before he left the room.
"Sleep well," he whispered back before closing the door behind him.
He smiled slightly as the door clicked shut. A glimmer of hope threatened to brighten his mood. She was here, in his home. Safe. He tried to navigate the stairs quietly, aware of how sound carried in the house.
He collapsed onto the sofa and sighed, feeling slightly brighter and calmer, knowing that she was upstairs, out of harm's way. His eyes caught sight of the duvet and pillow his gran had him clean earlier, and it all made sense.
"Is she settled alright, Neville?" His gran asked from the doorway as the clock struck nine. Neville nodded.
"She was asleep when I went up," His gran nodded knowingly.
"Hopefully she can rest now that she's somewhere safe," Neville nodded, "I'm going to head on up now, my boy. I'll see you in the morning. There's still lots to do."
"Night Gran," he said as he opened out the duvet. Pausing, he remembered that his pyjamas and things were in his room. He debated for a moment wondering whether he should risk climbing the stairs again to brush his teeth. He decided against it, he could go without for one night. Kicking off his slippers, he swung his legs up onto the sofa and threw the duvet over him. For the first time in a few days, he looked forward to what the morning might bring. He closed his eyes and hoped that he would be able to sleep through the night, undisturbed.
He didn't exactly wake up as he hadn't really been to sleep. The sofa was much too short for him to get comfortable. It was more like he blinked into focus. He lay for a moment as his mind awoke full of questions as he tried to sort out what was real and what had been a dream.
Staring at the ceiling, he wondered whether she was actually in the house of whether it had been wishful thinking on his part. It seemed unlikely. He had probably fallen to sleep, and his gran had covered him in the quilt. He sighed as he rolled over, flinging his arm across his tired eyes as he yawned.
Voices floated in from the kitchen, causing him to pause. Voices? But there was only him, and his gran and his other relatives were not due until Christmas day. He strained his ears as he tried to catch what was said.
"My mother is obviously drunk again," he heard Pansy say, followed by a crunch of paper. "She has never shown me an ounce of attention, and now she has found it necessary for me to be held prisoner until I am deemed fit to make my own decisions?"
It hadn't been a dream. Neville lay still, bearly breathing as he listened.
"It'll do you no good to raise your voice to me, young lady! I am following your mother's instructions. Three days is hardly a hardship, and my grandson is a good company and a fine cook. Quit your whining and drink your tea, you may even find you enjoy yourself." He heard his gran command, "If by boxing day, you decide that your mother was wrong, and you wish to join your intended, then you will be free to go. Now, when you're done with your tea, pick up that bowl and start mixing,"
"And what is that?" She asked, the disgust clear in her voice.
"That is called mincemeat, it's for the mince pies,"
"Mincemeat? Does it have meat in? I don't eat meat,"
"It has suet in, so… yes,"
"I'm not touching it, I don't eat meat." She said her voice sounding ever so spoilt.
"I'm not asking you to bloody well eat it, I'm asking you to mix it and save me a job. We don't cater to princesses here." He could hear the aggravation in his grans voice and knew it was time to step in. Neville groaned and pushed himself off the sofa before wandering into the kitchen as he rubbed at his face.
"I'll do it Gran, Just let me go and get dressed."
"No, Neville. Our little princess will have to pull her weight while she's staying with us."
"I know that Gran, but it's not fair making her touch meat. She could always roll the pastry. Would that be alright?"
His gran looked at him for a moment, chewing the inside of her lip as she glared at the woman behind him.
"Fine," she spat finally. "But it has butter in, that won't be a problem, will it?" she asked acerbically.
"Butter is fine, thank you," Pansy replied curtly.
"Go and get dressed, we still have lots of things to do and not much time to do it in, Christmas day is the day after tomorrow," Gussie warned as she pulled off her apron and threw it at him before leaving the room. He knew he would get hell for that later on as he put the apron on the table.
The room was quiet as he pushed his hair out of his face.
"I hope you're not expecting anything from me for that little act of chivalry. If I had my way, I would be being waited on by the Montegue house-elves and relaxing in high society company," she said, her nose pointed to the ceiling, but he saw how her eyes darted to him.
"Even though you hate how much they look like rodents since Weasley's rat bit you?" He asked with a small smile as her smooth features creased in a frown of surprise.
"How did you know that?" Neville shook his head and shrugged before turning to leave the room.
"I'll be back in a moment, I'm going to get dressed."
"And what's to stop me running outside to apparate away?" She asked, raising a challenging eyebrow. He stopped and turned back to her.
"Absolutely nothing. But we both know that you don't want to marry that gorilla, and you're wondering exactly what else I know about you. If you stick around and help me make the mince pies, I'll answer any questions you have,"
"How dare you refer to my fiancé as a gorilla!" she said, but there was no fire behind her words.
"I'll be right back. Please don't leave," Neville asked, meeting her eyes. Something like curiosity passed over her face, and she nodded as she chewed on her lip.
"I'll drink my tea and wait, but don't leave me too long otherwise I may just leave out of spite,"
"That I believe," he chuckled as he left the room, sure that he saw a small smirk cross her lips.
When he returned, his hair and teeth were brushed, his face was washed, and his clothes were fresh from his wardrobe. He felt better for it when he entered into the kitchen. She sat there flicking through the pages of the daily prophet as she held a steaming mug of tea in her hand. Relief flooded him when he found her sat there that he smiled.
"I made tea," she said without looking up.
"Thank you," he replied as he moved into the room. He picked up the apron and tapped it casting the Geminio charm until there were two identical aprons. He glanced at Pansy with her golden, calf-length skirt and navy blue top and knew that without the apron, it wouldn't survive the day. He held it out to her and watched as she was careful not to touch his skin as she took it from his grip. He folded his in half, only wrapping it around his waist before taking a swig of his tea from the cup. He grimaced as the cold liquid travelled down his throat.
"I thought you said you made tea?" he asked in confusion as he looked down at his mug.
"I did, for myself," she smirked as she held up her own mug. "You assumed I made you a mug? That's sweet," she chuckled to herself before she stood up, her heels clicking against the floor.
"Well, consider that a lesson learned, Pansy is unable to make a cup of tea," he said, fighting the smirk as she scowled at him.
"I am perfectly capable of making a cup of tea, thank you!"
"Apparently not," Neville replied, raising his own mug, before tapping it to reheat it. He turned his back on her as he placed his cup down. She huffed with irritation before he turned around again, and keeping his face impassive, he changed the subject. "So, have you made pastry before?" His eyes followed the lines of her face, and the slight curve of her lips as she looked at him and felt like he had not seen her in so long. He had missed the plump fullness of her lips and the slight upturn of her nose.
"Stop looking at me like that, Longbottom! You're making my skin crawl!" she complained as she looked away uncomfortably. He nodded and turned away from her, his cheeks burning.
The next hour passed in record time as he showed her how to make the pastry for the pies. Neville tried to avoid looking at her when he could, but sometimes he couldn't help it, especially when he caught her scent on the air.
He pushed his hand through his hair when all the bases were cut out, and the shaped tray was loaded with them waiting to be filled with the mincemeat. Pansy turned around and laughed at him.
"What?" he asked nervously.
"You've pushed dough and flour through your hair," she explained as she stepped closer, her eyes narrowed in concentration as she rubbed at the side of his face and hair. He glanced down to his doughy hands and sighed, remembering the time they had made pizza in muggle studies. He wondered whether she would remember it too. He looked into her eyes as she tried to dust him off. Like then, he knew that he could never love anyone else. She looked up at him and blushed before frowning and backing away.
"What's wrong?" he asked as he turned to start mixing the suet into the fruity, spice-laden filling. He glanced up at her as she pressed herself against the far worksurface.
"I feel like we've been here before, done this before," She said weakly as she looked around the room. Her eyes eventually returned to him where they narrowed further. "but not here, the room was different,"
"We made pizza in one of our muggle studies lessons at school," he explained quietly. "That's probably what you're thinking of," he explained as he focused on turning the mixture over, watching as all the small suet pellets mixed in with the sticky fruits.
"Excuse me for a moment," She whispered breathily, "I just need some air," she explained as she headed towards the dutch door. When she had disappeared through it, Neville let out the breath he was holding. Was that a sign that her memories were returning? Or was it just wishful thinking? He stopped mixing for a moment as he too took a deep breath to steady himself. He hoped against everything that it was indeed a sign that she was coming back to him.
He watched as she paced in the garden, clutching at her heart as plumes of steam erupted from her mouth as the cold air turned her breath to smoke. She looked startled and pale in the morning light, and he wondered how the truth would affect her once everything came flooding back. He washed his hands and filled the kettle as he waited for her to return. Whatever state she returned in, she would need a hot cup of coffee.
