~*Everything You Want*~
Chapter Ten: Pure Morning
Thalia: This is the Neville/Pansy chapter of d00m. Because they're effin' priceless. And in terms of coming attractions, there will be Christmas festivities of a terribly amusing sort come next chapter, all set up from here. Oh, and tie-tugging, dancing shamrock boxers, and spastic Weasleys abound. Enjoy!
Dove: At least someone got some action this chapter. And would you believe Warrington and Su are barely in this one at all? Oh, but Ginny's gone and lost her head over Draco, as will be proven shortly. Also, I'm of the opinion a certain boy should never, ever return the offending knickers and keep them as a memento…
Thalia: Am of the opinion that a certain girl should never return the offending boxer shorts either, and keep them in case of blackmail necessity in the future.
Disclaimer: We'll get back to you after we've taken over the world.
"A friend in need's a friend indeed,
A friend with weed is better.
A friend with breasts and all the rest,
A friend who's dressed in leather.
A friend in need's a friend indeed,
A friend who'll tease is better.
Our thoughts compressed,
Which makes us blessed,
And makes for stormy weather…"
-Placebo, "Pure Morning"
Had Neville Longbottom merely been followed around by Pansy Parkinson and her clicking high heels of d00m, he wouldn't have been too perturbed. The Slytherin had been giving him some very... peculiarly predatory looks and smirks in classes lately, and he had resigned himself to the fact that one of these days, she would catch him, commit deeds of unspeakable evil, and leave him traumatized. That this would maybe mean lack of harassment from her towards his other housemates appealed to his sense of nobility, whereas the idea of asking for help from his housemates chafed against the grain of his hidden independence. Therefore, he said nothing.
However, when Gregory Goyle, of all people, lumbered forward with a growl and pulled Millicent Bulstrode off him when the latter had grabbed Neville's back collar and stuffed it with icicles... Neville had stepped back in shock, wondering who cast the Imperius curse and why... and had seen Parkinson giving him a jaunty wave from where she was leaving greenhouse three with an armful of Christmas holly.
This seemed rather extreme. Even for terribly manipulative and scary Slytherin girls.
Neville, one with self-control, merely stammered some sort of thanks to the burly Slytherin boy who'd helped him, and kept his head down until after lunchtime. Then, hearing Pansy's high heels exiting the Great Hall, he'd risen from his seat, hands in pockets and a confused, fearful sort of expression on his face, and followed.
"Good, you picked up." Pansy didn't even turn around as she rounded a corner, with him following her about ten feet behind. "You aren't stupid, perhaps... just scared."
"Er..." To call a Gryffindor "scared" seemed like some sort of insult, but Neville was unsure. And for her to call him "not stupid" was definitely a compliment. But before he could decide whether he should be flattered or affronted, she'd swiveled around and turned to face him.
"Are you scared of me, then?" Pansy walked towards him, high heels clicking, tossing her hair flirtatiously.
Neville's eyes widened. "I should be, shouldn't I?" he managed to squeak out.
"Perhaps. But if I tell you everything, it would be no fun," she proclaimed, crooking a manicured finger at him. "Come over here."
Neville came obediently, stopping about five feet in front of her.
"Closer," she ordered, hands on hips and tapping the toe of her shoe on the floor.
He stepped forward another foot... then another... then another, until he was right in front of her, gulping internally and thinking to himself that hexes actually worked best at a distance of five to ten feet. But Pansy didn't draw her wand. Reaching out her hand, she pulled him along by his tie for a nearby empty classroom.
"Wh—what's going on?" Neville spluttered, quickening his steps to keep up with the yanking hand that had a firm grip around his tie.
She didn't answer until they were both in the classroom, and then, she patted his tie back in place upon his chest. "Oh, just this," she said airily, handing him a packet of what appeared to be fine envelopes. "I only have one owl and not enough time. Send these out with the school owls for me before tomorrow, will you?" It wasn't really a question, especially not with her fluttering her eyelashes and caressing his tie like... like... well, something that his non-naughty Gryffindor mind refused to think about.
"Er... all right..." Neville said cautiously, eyeing the envelopes, which seemed to be addressed to several Slytherins and Ravenclaws, "They're not...."
"Not Howlers, obviously. Not immature little pranks like the Weasley twins might do, either," Pansy said quickly, with a little sniff. "If I were to make someone's life miserable, I'd want to do it personally and not with silly devices."
"Oh...?"
"They'd deserve that sort of close, personal attention, wouldn't you think?" Pansy asked him with wide eyes, still touching the tie, now playing with the knot.
"That's... nice of you," Neville squeaked out.
"Since you are a pure ickle Gryff," Pansy drawled, "I'll let the positive remark slide and assume that it was meant in a complimentary manner." She'd pulled the knot free, and Neville blushed hard. Oh Merlin, this was really going to be traumatizing and... umm...
Pansy smirked slightly, and yanked the loose ends of the tie until he was very close to her. Giving him a smouldering look for a few moments, she tossed back her hair and re-knotted it. "Only the uncouth have their ties in half-Windsor knots," she told him in an admonishing tone, as she worked with her fingers.
Finished molesting his tie, Pansy tucked it back in place under the jumper, and gave him what could almost be qualified as a benevolent smile had her eyes not been gleaming in a purely diabolical manner. "Now, don't forget my invitations, boy..." she told him in a sing-song voice. Neville hastily nodded, and the pseudo-smile widened. "Good... excellent. I shall have to thank you properly... later, but for now..." She stepped back, all grace despite the heels and Neville's burgundy face, and blew him a kiss before walking out of the classroom at a leisurely pace, the clickety-clack of high heels dying down the hallway.
***
None of the envelopes were addressed to Gryffindors save one, which was for Ginny Weasley. He wasn't entirely sure whether she'd feel privileged to be included, or, which was by far the more likely, attempt to kill him and Pansy both. Of course, if he didn't deliver it, he would probably be killed by Pansy and possibly Malfoy. Being thus caught between Scylla and Charybdis, he sighed, picked the lesser of the two evils, and decided that he would get Ginny hers last, so at least the others would still have theirs if he turned up dead the next day.
Next came the problem of actually delivering the envelopes. He managed most of the Ravenclaws fairly easily, by running around the Great Hall at dinner that night. There were startled looks from a few of them to see him with envelopes sealed with a Slytherin crest. Zach Turpin took his cautiously, but Calista Green giggled and Su Li smiled absently. Cho Chang shook her head but took hers, and Lisa Turpin actually looked excited. Terry Boot glared and Kevin Entwistle grinned, but the envelopes disappeared in their respective robe pockets. Neville held off on the Slytherins who, except Pansy, terrified him. What Pansy caused was quite a deal beyond terror, and frankly, he didn't want to think on that subject too hard.
Accordingly, after dinner, he was approached by Pansy. "Haven't you finished yet?" she asked, giving him a queenly look.
Neville had barely managed to find time to eat, but nonetheless, he stammered out an excuse. "I… er… didn't want to interrupt your dinner. You all looked so… serious."
"We're Slytherins, darling," she said with a little laugh. "Haven't you noticed we always look intimidating?"
"Yes. I mean no. I mean… I don't know what I mean," he finished weakly. "I'm sorry."
She said nothing, but looked at him, as though expecting him to say something else.
"Really sorry," he added lamely. "Er… what are they, anyway?"
Now she laughed. "I never did tell you, did I?" She reached under the collar of her sweater. He gulped. She pulled out an envelope with his name on it. "Silly me, I seem to have forgotten to give you yours. Here you go, then." She handed him the envelope, which he took uncertainly. It was warm. He gulped again and opened it.
"…A Christmas party?" It was so terrifyingly… normal.
"Well, what did you expect, Death Eater conscriptions? Vacation starts next week, and those of us staying behind would be terribly bored." She tossed her hair. "Incidentally, I'm going to need your toad."
"Why do you need Trevor?" he asked, not sure he wanted to trust his beloved pet to she-of-the-pink-doom-shoes.
She gave him a very pointed "I-do-not-pay-you-to-ask-questions" look and he wilted. "Right, Trevor. Er… please make sure no one hurts him?"
"He'll come back unharmed, or as unharmed as anyone ever has, I promise you," she said. "I'll take him in Potions tomorrow, then."
Neville sighed. How did he end up promising away his toad? "All right. About these Slytherin invites…"
"I did give you the very logical idea of using owls," she pointed out. "You could always send them tonight. I'm sure you're looking forward to giving the little Weasley hers personally."
He looked forward to it about as much as he looked forward to his Potions final. "I'll get it done tonight. I'm sorry, Pansy." He was very tempted to add, "If I die, please take care of Trevor," but decided it would be silly and kept it to himself. "I should probably go do that now."
She patted his cheek. "Good boy. Sleep well. Pleasant dreams." With that very Pansy-esque smouldering look, she blew him a kiss, smiled in a catlike fashion when he turned red as a tomato, and retreated down the hall, swaying her hips and… being Pansy, really. Neville had to force himself to look away and head his own way.
***
Neville, after a bit of reflection, decided to be a brave boy. Worthy of being put into Gryffindor. There was no reason he couldn't deliver an invitation or two to the Slytherins. Besides, if they killed him before he could finish with his tasks, Pansy would kick them in high heels; of this he was fairly certain. There was some security to all this.
That, and the fact that the school owls, busy delivering all manners of presents and missives home and back, were in short supply, and after sending out four invitations, he would either have to wait for more owls to return (thereby inciting the possible wrath of Pansy) or to deliver the last two by hand.
Figuring that he should let the birds deliver the invitations to the most intimidating ones, Neville attached the envelopes to Cassius Warrington, Alexander Montague, Susannah Caligo and Draco Malfoy to the legs of several screech owls, and decided to deliver the one for Blaise Zabini, and the one for Emma Dobbs... himself.
Blaise Zabini had not been too hard to locate. The dark-haired Slytherin boy, after a brief talk with Calista Green, had headed straight to the library after dinner. Neville entered Madame Pince's domain a short while later, peering around for signs of the other fifth year's presence. Finding him in the Muggle literature section, of all places, Neville diffidently approached. "Er... Bl—Zabini?"
Blaise looked up from the book he was hunched over, raising an eyebrow. "It's either Blaise or Zabini, not Blzabini. What do you want?"
Neville shrunk back a little, squirming. "Er... well you see, Pansy wanted me to run a few errands for her, and..." Hastily pulling out the invitation so he didn't have to do any more explaining for himself, he shoved it at the Slytherin.
"I see," Blaise peered at the envelope, then put it aside. "Well, is that all? I hate to burst your bubble, but I'm rather busy here."
"Er, that's all," Neville said quickly, before frowning slightly. "Or... wait..." Seeing as to how Zabini hadn't sprouted scales and started hissing (although that might actually be more of a Weasley twin thing, come to think of it), it might be good to find out from him where Emma Dobbs, who Neville barely knew at all, might be found.
"Well?" Blaise eyed him curiously, "out with it. I have a whole book to finish here before curfew." He gestured Dickens' A Christmas Carol, spread open in front of him.
"Ah, where might I find Emma Dobbs?" Neville blurted out. "I never talked to her before, and..."
"Emma?" Blaise shrugged, "She was mentioning something to Susannah about a laundry mix up. If she's not in the laundry room, then I wouldn't know. Now, will that be all, then?"
Sensing that the Slytherin's typical benevolence limit had been reached, Neville nodded hastily, thanked Blaise, and exited the library. Now to hope that Emma Dobbs was actually in the laundry room... and didn't have hordes of evil Slytherin girls with her.
***
Emma was in the laundry room, and not alone. Although the person who was there with her (not exactly a companion) was neither Slytherin nor female. Having found, in place of her own knickers, a pair of white boxer shorts with dancing shamrocks on them, the young Slytherin was in the laundry room trying to sort things out with Seamus Finnigan.
The latter was quite suspicious, and scowled as the Slytherin witch held out the underpants in question for his inspection with an amusedly quirked eyebrow. "Yes... they look like my boxers, but..."
"What did you think I did to them, parade around the common room topless wearing them?" Emma asked sarcastically, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Despite the impression that Tracey Davis has been assiduously spreading about Slytherin girls, not all of us are shameless whores. I didn't do anything to them, you ruddy Irishman."
Seamus gave a snort at that. "You in my boxers, topless. Now that'd be a sight to see."
"Fantasizing, are we?" Emma smirked. "Sorry, but it's not going to happen here. Take your shorts, and give me back my laundry."
"I am not fantasizing!" Seamus howled, snatching the shorts from her. "I am not a great bloody pervert, I'll have you know..."
"I'd hex you with a fishtail if you'd tried anything without my consent, so whether or not you're a pervert is a moot point," Emma replied calmly. "Now, are you going to give me back my knickers, or have you erected a shrine to worship them?"
"I. Don't. Worship. Sodding. Knickers," Seamus growled, staring down at the delicate-featured Slytherin girl. She didn't seem at all fazed.
"Well, that's good to hear. I think only particularly devoted house-elves do that."
He scowled, flushing darkly at that, and she gave him another expectant look. "Well? Is there some reason you haven't given me my knickers back yet? Honestly, if you need them that badly, I can give you the name of the store where they can be purchased, in a variety of styles and colours."
Blast it all to hell, Seamus thought frantically to himself, did Slytherins get extra lessons after Potions and Transfiguration and Charms and such, in sarcasm? It had been twenty minutes, the little bint was still smirking up at him, those big blue eyes still filled with ruddy amusement... it was insupportable! Did nothing shock her? Gritting his teeth and giving her a ferocious glare, he reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders, giving her a heavy shake before pressing his lips hard against hers, wondering if this would, at last, shock her into silence.
Emma was shocked, quite so, and for a few seconds, froze, unmoving. And then, almost lazily, she reached up a tiny hand and brushed a few locks of hair away from his forehead and firmly kissed him back.
"Well, Finnigan," she drawled as she pulled away, eyes glinting up into his face, "how interesting... you glared at me, and then snogged me. Am I to assume that you hate me, or that you love me?"
"How about I was trying to make you quiet," he grumbled, almost pouting.
"You forget," she laughed and patted his cheek, "once you stop snogging me, I am perfectly able to talk again. You should try a Silencing Charm next time."
"We don't do that," he said flatly.
"I'd like to see you try," she shot back. "You never did show up for Defense tutoring after that one time."
"You notice these things?" he felt his lips curve into a smarmy grin.
She grinned back, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Well. You do have my knickers, so I would have to notice things about you."
And then there was the sound of a throat clearing nervously at the door. "Er... Seamus, you have her knickers?"
It was quite debatable which Gryffindor felt more embarrassed and "Oh-Merlin-where's-an-invisibility-cloak-when-I-need-one?!?" at the moment.
But while both boys were turning pale and red by turns, Emma seemed cool as ever, surveying Neville calmly. "Is there something you want with this one right here?" she asked, pointing at a spluttering Seamus. Neville shrank back, wondering what sort of terrors he'd walked in upon.
"Umm... actually... you're Emma Dobbs?"
"Yes, I am," Emma answered. "Is there something you want with me?"
"Just... this," Neville thrust the invitation towards her, and as soon as her fingers closed around the envelope, backed away and out of the room. "Ah, carry on, you two..." Shutting the door behind his back and wiping sweat from his brow, Neville trembled slightly as he hurried away down the hall. He would not ask. He saw nothing. Or... he really didn't want to know.
***
Predictably, Ginny did not take well to the invitation. "Why are you delivering this, Neville?" she asked icily after reading the offending parchment several times.
"Because… Pansy told me to." He shifted under her gaze. "She scares me. I had to do it."
"Scares… you," Ginny said. "Bollocks." She crumpled and tossed the invitation towards the fire. It never got there, having been caught in Harry's outstretched hand. He had probably caught it on instinct at seeing a small projectile, but he smoothed it out and looked at it in surprise.
"What's this, then, Gin?" he asked. He read it again. "Consorting with the enemy, are we? I've heard some things… thought they weren't true." He passed the paper to Ron. "What do you say, Ron? Think we should go and keep an eye on her?"
Ginny turned scarlet. It didn't help that… Malfoy… was never far from her thoughts anymore. Nor did it help she found herself missing his rough kisses. Or the fact that she had… altogether unsuitable… dreams about him at night. She turned redder. Stop thinking. Stop thinking. Stop.
"A Slytherin party?" Ron asked from across the room in disgust. "I'd rather boil alive in oil. And she isn't going. Isn't that right, Hermione?"
Hermione was saved from answering by Neville pointing out, "Just so you know, Ron, Malfoy will be there, and he seems to have… er… designs…"
"Shut up, Neville," Ginny hissed, turning, if possible, redder. "And who are you to tell me where I can go, Ronald? I go where I please. I'm not a child!"
Ron jumped up. "WHAT!?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "He appears to have missed that memo."
"We're going," Ron said through clenched teeth. "All of us are bloody well going if you are, and let me tell you, Mum will hear about this, Virginia 'I-am-not-a-child' Weasley. You're too young for boys! You can't date until you're thirty! Thirty-five!"
"I'll date if and whom I like, and I'll go to the party, because not that it's any of your concern. You were not invited, so be pleased to not make an ass of yourself and crash someone else's party. You're clearly not wanted!"
Hermione gave a helpless look to Ginny and mouthed something in effect of "I'll try to keep them under control." She didn't look too sure of herself, though.
Ginny threw a pillow at Ron and, fuming, stormed up the stairs to her dormitory. She had been going to turn the ruddy thing down. Ron just had to get her riled up to the point of saying things she didn't mean. And now she had to go and face Malfoy for a night.
In defeat, she collapsed on her bed. "Ruddy brilliant," she said to the empty room. "I'm falling from a flaming evil git from hell and my brother wants to kill us both. And it'll never happen. And I hate him! And I hate Ron! And I hate… hate!" She stuffed her face into the pillow, realizing she wasn't making sense and, what was worse, had nearly been yelling. Knowing her luck, Lavender or Parvati or someone might hear, and it would be all over the school within twenty minutes. At which point Draco would realize she wasn't as immune to him as she had put out, and would probably corner her in a dark hallway and… she should not be fantasizing right now!!!
Her scream of rage was only slightly muffled by the pillow.
