Though Astoria Greengrass may have won the title of this Season's Diamond, no one could take their eyes off of a very unexpected couple on the dancefloor: Mister Neville Longbottom and Miss Pansy Parkinson. Years ago, dancing with a Blood Traitor would define a woman as most unfit as a Pureblood wife or even lady. Fortunately, the same standards do not hold true… for the most part. Though, it was quite telling that the rest of Miss Parkinson's dance partners were chosen by her mother. While Mister Longbottom certainly has grown up, he is not fit for Pureblood Society. He wasn't even wearing gloves!
Lady BloodPure's Society Papers, May 5
Suitors paraded through the Parkinson Parlor the entire week, but the one Pansy was hoping for never walked through the Floo. She tried her best not to be upset, for it was rather embarrassing to admit to oneself they were upset that Neville Longbottom had not come to visit. But every time a new foot stepped out of her fireplace, she skeptically measured it in her mind.
It had been one dance. One dance meant nothing. She had danced with Draco a million times over and yet she was not the one with the engagement ring that could drown her if she fell in a puddle. However a million dances with Draco had never left her feeling so… she wasn't even sure of the word, which was a phenomena on its own. Rarely was Pansy ever speechless.
Bored maybe, quietly holding her tongue most definitely, but not speechless as she rolled her eyes at man after man trying to impress her. Though, she realized, her opinion did not matter. It was what her mother thought that would get them a spot on her visiting schedule.
Finally, as the third man of the week compared her hair to the color of night, Pansy lost it.
"Out! Get out," she shouted and pointed to the door. She didn't even remember his name, but he was most definitely over two decades her elder and she really did not want to entertain an age gap that large.
"Pansy!" her mother shrieked, but Pansy ignored her, gathering up her things. She found her purse and sage green cloak, rushing to the door. She was not dressed for an outing during the Season, but any other time of the year her high waisted trousers and off the shoulder cashmere sweater would be just fine.
"And where do you think you're going!" her mother followed as Pansy magicked the silver flower clasp to secure her cloak.
"I don't know, out! I haven't left the house all week and these men are so boring I'm about to cast the Imperius curse on them to liven things up!" Pansy ranted.
"You'll need a chaperone," her mother relented. Pansy glared daggers. She pulled the hood of her cloak up to hide her signature bob and spelled it to stay put without the need for hair pins.
"Have an elf follow me then, I don't care," she said, grabbing the Floo powder and calling out Diagon Alley before her mother could say anything further.
While a drink was tempting, she knew a woman drinking alone during the Season would be talked about. Despite wanting to get far far away from any suitors, gossiping mothers always seemed to be around. The last thing she needed was that damned Lady BloodPure talking about how she was a lush. Her mother would never stop shrieking about that one. A migraine not worth having, especially if a hangover was included.
So, though she really wanted a shot or six of top shelf tequila, Pansy made her way through the magic brick arch and into the alley to do some shopping. Not seen or heard, she could feel the magic of one of their house elves tailing her down the street. It wasn't uncommon, it happened all through her childhood and teen years to make sure she stayed in line, but today Pansy found it grating on the side of distracting.
Distracting to the point she found herself walking into a wall. A moving wall. One that placed his strong hands on her hips and, once again, said, "Alright there Miss Parkinson?"
He released her once she was steady and chuckled a bit. "I almost didn't recognize you with that hood up, but the green gave you away."
Pansy glowered up at Neville Longbottom because now in just a short pair of kitten heels, he was towering over her. She was angry at everyone, but he was here now and so he would face her wraith.
"You didn't come by," Pansy snapped. She crossed her arms and did her best to look menacing. Neville, in turn, just furrowed his brow. She meant to tell him to watch where she was going and yet her real anger at him slipped out without her permission.
"Your mother told me not to," he questioned, a bit confused. "Didn't she?"
"She did; you're correct." She wanted to pick a fight. He didn't seem to understand because instead of being annoyed at her as Draco would have once been, Neville had the audacity to smile.
"But you wanted me to still?" He grinned. It was goofy and lopsided, but it caused a singular dimple on his left cheek to appear and she thought it was the most handsome thing she had ever seen. She was going to slap it off his face if he kept doing that.
"No. Of course not." She lied through her teeth. Why was he not taking the bait? Draco would be asking what stick was up her ass by now and they'd be headed into a world record row for all the public to watch and gasp about.
"So what's the problem?" he asked, but he still had that dimpled grin and it was driving her nuts. He knew she was lying, that she was baiting him, and yet he was just smiling .
"Nothing. There is no problem." She lied some more. His grin grew and barely, just barely, the right dimple began to peak out as well. Someone ought to just murder her there right in the street. Murder by dimples, now that would be a headline for Lady BloodPure.
"Would you like me to come by tomorrow afternoon? I would today, but I doubt I'm presentable in your mother's eyes," he gestured to his wardrobe. She hadn't even looked past his face yet, but his movement made her look down.
Merlin's fucking beard, he was wearing dungarees. A worn in shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, yes, but also a pair of camel brown dungarees that just highlighted his broad chest and shoulders. There was even dirt on the knees and front.
"Firstly, my mother can shove it. Secondly–" Pansy started and then faltered.
Secondly? She honestly didn't even have a secondly. Anyone else and she would gasp at the horrid choice of clothing and insist they go change. But somehow the garment that was usually relegated only to Pureblood children was making her think of very inappropriate things. Like what he would look like in dungarees without a shirt underneath. Like what it'd be like bent over his knee.
He looked at her expectantly for her secondly. She gulped hard.
"I wouldn't want to keep you from rolling in the dirt some more," she finally said. It was a lackluster snipe, but she was floundering here and she was not used to floundering. Especially for a man dressed like a farmer.
He laughed as if she had said a funny joke and not a dig at the state of his clothing. "True, I've got a few more Mandrakes to replant back at the castle. Just came here to grab some more potting soil."
"Castle? As in Hogwarts?" she asked.
He nodded. "Professor Sprout retired last year so I took over Herbology."
That explained the small bit of dirt he'd been able to remove from his nails. She was a bit less turned off by it now knowing he worked in dirt all day, using his hands, having a purpose. In fact, it was almost charming. Merlin, who was she? Dirt was charming? Draco would be laughing himself into a coma right now if he could listen in on her mind.
"You don't have to," she said, starting to backtrack. This was a poor idea. She should have never mentioned him not coming by. He was Neville Longbottom for crying out loud. "Come by tomorrow I mean."
"Does two sound good?," he asked, not letting her squirm out of it. She glared and, once again, he grinned. Dimples and all.
"Fine, if you insist." She put herself in this predicament. She would just have to deal. Knowing he was a Professor only awoke her praise kink and honestly she could not start thinking about that in the middle of the street.
"Until tomorrow, Pansy," he told her, taking her hand and pressing a soft kiss to the back of it. He gave it a soft squeeze, something he was not supposed to do at all according to the customs, but it made her swoon more than she would ever admit.
"You're supposed to address me by my surname," she said, trying to correct him without sounding breathless.
"I know," he said, changing his grin to a smirk. It was a small moment of rebellion, but it made her stomach flip.
"Please don't be late," she asked of him. She couldn't help it.
"I'd never." He said, releasing her hand before departing.
Pansy stood in the middle of the street, staring at her hand. It tingled from the skin on skin contact, from the juxtaposition of her soft delicate fingers against his rough working hand. She could still feel the heat from his lips.
"Miss," her house elf appeared with a pop, shaking her from her thoughts. "Your mother is not going to be happy about this."
"At this rate, my mother will never be happy," Pansy grumbled before stalking off towards the shops to do some retail therapy.
This year's Pureblood Season is in full swing and you, dear reader, are in for a treat of gossip. The well known Rake, Mister Theodore Nott II, was seen climbing out the window of the Greengrass Manor! Which sister he was visiting is still unknown, but as he was leaving through the East terrace window, I know where to place my bets. Flirtatious Mister Picquery brought the biggest bouquets of flowers to all of his possible conquests (five of them can you believe!) under the illusion that he only has eyes for one. Playing the field and not just the Pitch it seems. And, finally, the charming Mister Neville Longbottom was seen in the middle of Diagon Alley kissing the bare hand of a woman cloaked in green. As you all know, ladies should be wearing gloves at all times during the Season to prevent scandal.
Lady BloodPure's Society Papers, May 9
"That was you!" her mother gasped, waving the paper in Pansy's face. "I cannot believe you put yourself in such a compromising position! If our house elf had not been there!" Her mother sighed and flopped onto the sitting room couch as if she fainted. Pansy rolled her eyes.
"Compromising position? Mother, we were in broad daylight and he touched my hand. If she really wants a scandal, Lady BloodPure should figure out all the places I've let Draco put his–"
"Don't you DARE finish that sentence."
"Cock." Pansy preened as her mother screamed into a pillow.
Pansy cackled and checked the clock for the fifth time in the past half hour. It was almost two. She had spent longer than she wished to admit picking her outfit to sit in her drawing room. The maroon wrap dress was not her favorite color, but she had picked it for another reason in mind and it did make her cheeks look rather rosy. Yes, it was the color of the dress bringing out those undertones and not a soft blush every time she thought of slightly chapped lips on the back of her hand.
"I thought I raised a well-mannered, pure daughter," her mother lamented. Pansy raised her perfectly shaped eyebrow. Had her mother ever met her? Honestly. Plus her mother had even been the one to give her tips on a good blowjob in order to keep a man when she was just fourteen. "But somehow I ended up with a snarky witch that doesn't give care to anything to do with her family or blood."
"That's not true. At least the not caring part," Pansy said, some guilt starting to settle at the bottom of her stomach. She did care about her mother and her family's reputation. That's why she was participating in the Season at all. If she had her choice she would continue dating like a normal witch, not parading herself around balls and subjecting herself to stupid rules like chaperones and prude interactions.
"I need some air," her mother harrumphed and stalked out of the drawing room. Pansy knew that was code for she needed some time away from her daughter. Fine, whatever. Pansy inspected the clock again. It was two minutes until two. She told herself not to count the seconds, but it was quite hard not to.
Neville arrived right at two like he promised. Actually, twelve seconds prior to two, but Pansy refused to admit she had counted. Unlike the other suitors, when he stepped through the Floo, he arrived with a bouquet so small, the flowers could barely be seen over the parchment that held them.
"You came," she said, standing and walking over to him slowly despite wanting to run over. She felt like a second year schoolgirl with a crush.
"I told you I would," he told her, giving her that lopsided grin.
A shy smile crossed her red lips. He held the small bouquet of flowers out to her. Any other witch in her position would have been offended by the lack of blooms. There were only three roses wrapped in what was not actually parchment, but this morning's edition of The Daily Profit. It was standard to give the woman you were courting the largest bouquet full of the best blooms that one could afford; it was a show of wealth and a declaration of her beauty. Three pitiful roses would be considered an insult by anyone in Pureblood Society.
Pansy, however, was not insulted. In fact, her breath had caught in her throat and she felt as if she was suddenly in a fairy tale. For it was not the quantity that mattered here, but the pure fact that this variety of rose should not exist.
"Are these?" Pansy asked softly, awe laced lyrically in her voice. The three roses were silver and yet as they caught the light, a rainbow of color moved over the soft petals. She had only heard of the holographic blooms in her childhood princess stories.
"Unicorn Roses," Neville nodded, watching her every reaction.
"I thought these were just made up," Pansy was almost whispering now. She was almost afraid to take them from him, as if they would disappear if she reached out to touch them.
"No, they're just rather rare as they only grow–"
"Where Unicorn blood has been spilled." She finished for him and looked up. His face was closer than she realized and he was watching her with admiration. She blushed softly.
"I remembered back in Fourth Year you had a fondness for the Unicorns and there are a few bushes in the Forbidden Forest so–" The softness of his features and honesty of his words made her feel naked. Naked and seen. No one had ever noticed her liking of Magical Creatures or if they had, just written it off as a female's love of something pretty. Even when she was upset at their lessons being taught by the groundskeeper instead of an actual professor, everyone jotted it down out of a hatred of the half-giant instead of being sour about missing a formal education.
"You gathered these yourself?" she asked, taking the roses from him. He nodded. That explained why the bouquet was so little, but the fact only made Pansy love them more. They were for her and her alone.
They smelled like nothing she could describe. A mixture of how sugar quills tasted right out of the package and the memory of a first crush giving you a hug. There was a hint of imagination on a sunny day by the lake and your favorite birthday cake with all your friends around you. They were a large, warm hand asking you to dance around the room. They were the scent of everything that made you ever feel happy, even just for a moment.
"I love them," she admitted. Relief seemed to spread through him, his shoulders relaxing from whatever nerves kept them stiff.
She didn't want to put them down, but when she noticed a house elf by her side with a crystal bud vase, she handed them over. "Could you put these ones in a vase on my bedside table?"
"Not with the rest?" the elf questioned, looking over its shoulder at the table filled with exquisite blooms of quantity. The amount was almost embarrassing compared to how beautiful and rare these roses were.
Pansy just shook her head as her eyes returned to Neville. He didn't preen like she expected, but had a soft blush across his cheeks. She realized he was much more handsome than she ever gave him credit for.
Pansy swallowed hard and tucked a stray piece of black hair behind her ear, banishing those thoughts from her system. Or at least trying to.
"Would you like to go on a walk?" She asked.
"Very much so," he said.
Just then her mother entered the entryway once more. It looked more like she sprinted in but Pansy held her eye roll this time.
"Pansy, Mister Picquery mentioned maybe stopping by this afternoon; you should wait here for his arrival," her mother said quickly. Pansy not only held in another eyeroll, but a groan of contempt as well.
Neville paled, understanding the meaning of Mrs. Parkinson's request. Pansy, on the other hand, dismissed it.
"If he were to maybe arrive, then he should be the one to maybe wait," Pansy told her mother in a strict tone before taking Neville by the arm and leading him out of the Manor. She had completely forgotten her gloves.
A promenade has always been the best way to try out a new beau on one's arm. It is also the best way to see what other couples are up to. For if you had gone for a stroll today, you may have noticed poor Miss Astoria Greengrass looking sour and dressed in a violet cloak that made her look much more of an unattractive plum than a girl. You may have also noticed Miss Daphne Greengrass on the arm of a Mister Theodore Nott II which makes this author wonder if Miss Astoria was looking so sour over her cloak or her lack of beau. She is supposed to be the Diamond after all. You may have also noticed Miss Pansy Parkinson nearly dying from a coughing fit. I do hope she hasn't caught a cold, or worse, feelings.
Lady BloodPure's Society Papers, May 10
Pansy watched as Theo passed with Daphne on his arm; he gave Pansy a flirtatious wink that made her chuckle and roll her eyes. She knew her friend well, had even had a drunken mistake or two with him, and knew that his wink was nothing more than something to rile her up. It worked as the other girl bristled and swatted Theo on the arm, making him laugh loudly.
"I can't believe he's shagging Astoria, but walking with Daphne," Pansy commented, once out of earshot.
"How do you know that?" Neville asked, looking after the couple before turning back to Pansy.
"From what Lady BloodPure wrote. Astoria's bedroom's off the East Wing," Pansy explained simply. Neville nodded, looking back to Pansy unmoved by the gossip.
"Oh, I don't read Lady BloodPure," he said simply.
"You don't? Everyone reads her!" she looked up at him, studying his face. He looked so relaxed, so confident. It was rather seductive in a way.
"No, it hasn't really interested me. My Gran reads it, loves it even, but seems a bit intrusive if you ask me," he said offhandedly. She supposed she wasn't surprised he wasn't an avid reader of Lady BloodPure like the rest of Pureblood Society.
"Well, yes, that's the point," she muttered. "Is that's why you haven't realized you should be wearing gloves?"
Neville laughed, loudly, almost barking, but it was with pure joy and fit him well. "Ah, well, I joined the Season a bit last minute. Decided pretty much an hour before the ball actually; I don't own any gloves besides dragonhide for gardening."
"You could buy some you know," she smirked. She looked at him curiously, wondering why he would have even joined the Season had he not been prepared. If no one was forcing him to, it seemed like there'd be no reason to make the last minute leap, especially when it was clear his surname abandoned Pureblood society's rules long before.
"True, but I just don't like them. Don't like any of the formal bits actually. Plus, I barely wear them while in the greenhouse even unless I'm handling something dangerous."
"I've noticed," Pansy quipped, but he only took it in stride. She wondered if anything she quipped would ever bother him, but she also didn't want to test it in case it caused him to run off annoyed and bitter at her petulance.
"Honestly, I really don't understand these customs. Most of them make no sense. All this prudish nature when we spent our teen years all shoved in a castle together being anything but," he explained, his eyes following Theo and Daphne as they passed.
"You weren't a prude at Hogwarts?" Pansy asked, curious. She had always thought Neville to be the sort without a girlfriend though she never paid much attention.
He turned a bright red color.
"Who!" she gasped.
"I could never say; it's a lady's right to tell," he said, cheeks red as a tomato. She was determined to find out. It would be her mission.
"Merlin. Chivalrous, but not a prude. You really know how to push all my buttons Mister Longbottom," she sighed playfully.
"You haven't seen anything yet," he said, wetting his lips.
It was Pansy's turn to flush bright red. It was getting hot, wasn't it? Yes, the sun had finally come out from behind the clouds. She should have found a hat before leaving the Manor.
"You're quite beautiful when you blush," he told her in a whisper so no one could hear even though they were far from the other couples. He wet his lips again. Merlin if he did that one more time. "Makes me wonder if you blush like that when you come."
Pansy choked on air. She started coughing loudly, gasping for breath, having to even bend over slightly to catch herself while holding onto Neville's arm so she didn't tip over. She could feel his body trembling, trying to hold in his laughter.
"Pansy, are you alright?" Astoria called from across the path.
"I'm FINE , Astoria! Keep walking!" Pansy snapped at her, righting herself. She turned back to Neville who looked quite pleased with himself, still attempting to hold back a chuckle even. She glared up at him, and poked him right in the chest with her finger but she couldn't be angry like she wanted to when he was a tree she wanted to climb, preferably naked.
Honestly, who in the DMLE allowed Neville Longbottom to become so bloody damn hot. And in public no less! She was going to have a word to Potter about the legality of this.
"You cannot say things like that!" she hissed at him.
"Say what things? That you're beautiful?" he asked, innocently, that damn cocky grin on his lips making him look even finer. His hazel eyes were alight with mischief. She was going to strangle him. Strangle him or snog him.
"Why did you ask me to dance," she confronted him. It had been in the back of her mind all these days. A question she needed answering to be able to proceed. "I was always horrible to you. Worse than I was even to Potter."
"I had a crush on you in school so why wouldn't I take a chance to dance with you now?" Neville said simply as if it was an outright fact. Pansy knew it was not a fact. She heard enough jokes about her nose and underhanded comments about how Draco was just using her to know she was no one's crush. Not even Draco's. But somehow she believed Neville was still sincere.
"Because I was awful!" she snapped at him.
"You weren't awful, Pansy. Just lost. We all were," he told her softly. Neville reached up, his bare fingers tracing a piece of her hair that had fallen out of place before tucking it softly behind her ear. "Shall we keep walking?"
She looked back the way they came. She could say no, return to the Manor and never face whatever was brewing here. She hated how honest he was being. It was too refreshing compared to the masked snipes and digs from the males of her past. It set her off kilter in a way she was unsure if she liked.
But the way he was looking at her, the way he forgave her without her even apologizing, the way he let her be her and didn't hold it against her. She took his ungloved hand and continued to walk.
