I know! I know! It's been well over three years since I have updated!
I am sorry about the super long wait, life happens and hobbies get pushed to the side until you have time for them again.
This really isn't my best chapter, but I do like where it ended up going.
I did not have a beta for this, so any and all mistakes are my own.
Mending
chapter 7
Pansy stepped out of the grate and into the breakroom of St. Mungo's. Her anger over Ginny's behavior had ebbed completely, leaving her feeling tired and drained.
Rubbing her eyes and smoothing down her hair, Pansy decided to visit the tea shop on the first floor for a nightcap and then she would go to sleep in the on-call room. Her shift started in a few hours, and she saw no sense in flooing back home just to turn around and floo back to work in less than six hours.
When she pushed open the narrow door to the tea shop, she was surprised to see someone sitting at one of the small spindly tables this late. The bubble lights were dim this time of night, the witch who usually worked the counter had dimmed them when she left, shutting the display cases down and setting out a self-service station with a ever-filling teapot, an assortment of cups and saucers and some sweets and puddings that had been placed under a stasis charm.
The low lighting made it hard to see who was sitting by the window, but at the sound of the small tinkling bell when she had pushed the door open, the person turned their head, and their profile caught the light of the fire that was crackling in the small fireplace in the corner.
"Neville?" Pansy asked, curious as to why he was down here instead of resting in his private room.
"I know I'm not supposed to be out of bed," he murmured, shifting guiltily in his wicker wheelchair. "But I couldn't sleep, and usually I go to Firenze's classroom and look at the stars and have a cuppa," he nodded to the teacup sitting on the table in front of him.
"Firenze is still at the school?" Pansy asked, walking slowly over to Neville's table.
"Yeah," Neville rubbed at his left eye, blowing out a sigh. "His room still looks the same,"
"It's one of the things I hate about living in London," Pansy said, looking out the window at the neon signs and taxi's that drove by on the Muggle street outside the hospital. "You can never see the stars,"
She saw Neville looking at her out of the corner of her eye. Gooseflesh erupted over her arms and neck under his perusal. She crossed her arms over her chest, gripping her elbows.
"What, Longbottom?" She asked, still staring out into Muggle London.
"You look tired," He said softly, leaning back in his chair.
"I'm always tired," she sighed. "I'm going to get a cuppa and then head up. Do you need help back to your room?"
"I'd like to sit down here for a bit longer," He said, still staring at her.
Pansy nodded and made her way to the sideboard to pour herself some tea. She stirred in her milk and sugar, leaving without glancing back at Neville, even though she could feel his stare all the way out the door.
Neville woke the next morning and thought that last night's encounter must've been a dream. That would explain how polite and open Pansy had been. That had to be it. He probably fell asleep at the small table staring out the grimy window into Muggle London and had dreamed that Pansy had shown up and talked about missing the stars.
When Pansy had shown up in his room to take him to his therapy session, he was absolutely certain that it had been a dream. The frostiness was back in her voice and she looked everywhere but at him as she helped him into his wheelchair and into the therapy room.
After half an hour of silence other than the occasional instruction to move his leg or the perfunctory inquiry to his pain levels, Neville had had enough.
"Pansy,"
"Hmm?" She asked without looking up at him while she scribbled notes on his chart.
"Are you ready to talk about yesterday?" He asked.
Pansy's quill froze. He watched as she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. Straightening her back, she took a deep breath, and looked at him in the face for the first time that day.
"No," she said, her face carefully blank.
"We really need to. It's the Erumpent in the room," Neville insisted, leaning forward into her space.
"No," she repeated, her eyes flashing with anger.
"It's not like we weren't both there," Neville continued, watching how Pansy's entire frame vibrated with anger, how her eyes looked glassy with unshed tears. "It's not like we have anything else to talk about,"
Pansy stood and whirled away, shoulders shaking with rage.
"I know that you think about it every time you look at me," Neville said in a low voice. "Every time you see my scars…"
"WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY?" Pansy screamed, spinning around to face him, color high on her cheeks, the tears spilling out from her eyes. "Do you want to talk about how I was a fucking kid? How I was terrified for my life, and my mothers life, and my sister's life, and the lives of my friends? Or how about how I was forced to be in that room, how I had to torture innocent children? How the smell of blood still clings to my nose, and the sounds of their screams still ring in my ears?"
She sank down on the floor in front of him, hands in her lap, head bowed.
"Or do you want to hear about how I hated being in the same room when you were being tortured? How the sight of you screaming and bleeding tore my heart right out of my chest," She took a deep breath and raised her violet eyes to meet his. "How your bravery made me want to change my life, to want to be better than how I was raised…"
Neville stared at her silently, brow furrowed. He wasn't sure what he really had wanted to hear when he began needling her about their past.
After a few minutes of silence, Neville reached towards Pansy. She flinched away. Neville froze for a moment, looking into her frightened eyes, then slowly extended his hand again. This time Pansy didn't move away, and Neville brushed a tear away with the pad of his thumb.
Pansy closed her eyes and seemed to be holding her breath. When she didn't pull away, Neville cupped her cheek, his long fingers resting in her hair at the base of her skull, thumb smoothing gently over her cheekbone. After a few moments, Pansy leaned into his palm, her lips trembling with the emotion she was trying to keep inside.
"That's exactly what I wanted to hear from you, Pansy Parkinson," Neville whispered, brushing a lock of hair from her face with his other hand, tucking it behind her small ear.
Finally, chapter 7!
I am not sure how long it will take me to post chapter 8 (hopefully it won't take another three years lol), but I do want to thank everyone who still follows this fic, y'all are still awesome :)
