Dearest Reader, this author would like to report an engagement! Mister Theodore Nott II has picked a bride! Though his nuptials will not be to Miss Daphne Greengrass or even her sister Miss Astoria Greengrass– but with one Miss Ginevra Weasley! Seems like Miss Weasley gave the Rake an ultimatum and now the two will be rushing to the altar within the next week; either to outdo Mister Malfoy's wedding or because of a possible baby Theodore Nott III? As one knows, those Prewitt women are always quite fertile…
Lady BloodPure's Society Papers, May 14
Pansy needed more champagne. The cocktail party to celebrate Theo and Ginny's engagement was surely lacking on refreshments. Though she supposed that it was better having to dress for yet another ball. Today her blush pink Givenchy tea dress made her look as if she had just stepped out of a 1950's movie; her mother actually approved of the a-line number.
"Makes you look American," she gushed, thinking Pansy picked it for Picquery and not because it was just a classic and beautiful dress. Vintage so that Astoria couldn't steal it. Like she would ever pick her clothing for a man. Gag her.
"Is she really up the spout?" Blaise asked Pansy as they took a turn about the room. Her Slytherin friend was also in the same predicament as she was: being forced into this antiquated mating ritual by his mother. Pansy was a bit shocked his mother was forcing him, seeing as she had been through multiple husbands herself. Then again, maybe she hoped to provide Blaise with a match that he would not end up murdering as was rumor for all the widow's past husbands.
"No, but she wants to be. Told him she was done fucking around. He had to make a move or she was leaving him for good," Pansy explained.
"What about all that Greengrass nonsense?" Blaise said, raising an eyebrow.
"Seems like it finally gave Ginny a chance to call him out," Pansy explained. "Honestly, whoever this Lady BloodPure is doesn't know shit."
Blaise smirked. Always a bad sign. Pansy knew she put her foot in it and she wasn't even sure what it was yet.
"Picquery has been asking about you," he mentioned. "Said he came by your place and you weren't there? Waited over twenty minutes."
"I was busy with other things," Pansy said, hiding her blush. She had been doing her best today not to keep checking the Floo to see if Neville came through. He would have been invited, being Ginny's friend and all, but he still hadn't shown. She hated to admit how upset it made her.
"What sort of other things?" Blaise asked, mischievously.
"None of your business Zabini," she snapped at him. Blaise was Pansy's best secret keeper, but also a terrible nosy snoop. Honestly, she wouldn't be shocked if he were Lady BloodPure.
"Well, you better not busy yourself too much. Heard he's planning to go after Astoria now," he hedged. She rolled her eyes. Honestly, why did everyone think she cared about the boring American Quidditch Player? She never truly enjoyed Draco's games and she did not plan to up and leave for America any time soon.
"Fine by me," she said dismissively.
"I'm sure Longbottom will be happy to hear that," Blaise said with a sly smirk. Gods she hated nothing could get by him. He would have been a better spy than Snape had anyone thought to recruit him. "He had to present his lesson plans for the year to the Ministry today, if you're wondering where he is."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Pansy said, taking her leave.
"You're going to end up in Lady BloodPure with your big fat Longbottom crush before you know it," he called after her, making some of the mothers (thankfully hers was nowhere in sight) turn and gasp from what they just overheard. Pansy glared in their direction, but it didn't scare them enough to start gossiping like old hens.
She resisted yelling that she had no feelings whatsoever; it would only make her look like a bigger fool and for sure cause her to end up in the papers. She had been doing so well not having any mishaps that would cause scandal. Well, besides that coughing fit.
Though, not that she would admit it to herself, Pansy did feel a bit lighter knowing Neville was not missing the party to avoid her after their last meeting.
She could hear Blaise's snickering from where she left him.
There have been many whispers that I am not as on top of my gossip as I believe. I would like to say here and now that those whispers are False. If this author was in the dark, would she know that no one should put any stock into Mister Blaise Zabini and Miss Pansy Parkinson taking an astounding three turns about the room at the Nott-Weasley engagement party? And if this author was in the dark, would she know that no one should put any stock into the couple because Mister Blaise Zabini is already married? That's what I thought.
Lady BloodPure's Society Papers, May 18
There was a loud shriek of horror echoing through the Parkinson Manor. Pansy rolled her eyes.
Was this going to happen every time Lady BloodPure printed a story? Pansy put down her book and waited for her mother to storm into the Drawing Room. This time she only was able to count to six.
"You wasted an entire evening with Zabini!" Her mother asked, but it came out more like a very loud demand.
"It wasn't a waste," Pansy started, "Plus how was I supposed to know!" No, she had done what she set out to do: avoid Lucas Picquary. Rumor had it he had a list of all the women of the Season, ranked by their bust size. Theo had confirmed it was not a rumor.
"You knew; you always know these things. You purposely walked with a taken man so that you did not have to speak with eligible suitors. Sounds like a waste to me!" Her mother ripped Pansy's book out of her hand then chucked it at her.
"Fuck mother!" Pansy gasped, placing her hand to her cheek where the corner of the book hit her just under her eye. "You could have blinded me!"
"Serves you right! We had a deal, Pansy. You go through this season without sabotage in finding a husband–"
"Why must I find a husband! Can't I rebuild our family name without a man's title; changing my surname is just running from our problems. Everyone knows father was a fucking Death Eater and landed himself in Azkaban with a kiss!" Pansy yelled back.
"Don't you dare talk about your father like that!" her mother screamed.
"Why not! He was a pathetic, spineless man that stupidly and blindly followed a dark wizard for what? Power? Puriety? Look where that got him! He should have been at home, taking care of you, taking care of us!" Pansy only yelled back. She was honestly so tired of pretending her father was a good man. He was a weak follower that left them with no standing in society. They had all the wealth they once had, but it didn't mean anything with the Parkinson name attached to it.
"And what are you going to do to take care of us? To restore our name?" Her mother simmered, her tone cold and hard, hurting Pansy more than any shout ever could. "All you do is sit around and read or go shopping; you're no better than the rest of us Pureblood housewives. You've got no talent, no hobby, nothing you even like . The only thing you're good for, Pansy, is a dowry."
Her mother stormed out of the room; there was a crashing of wood from the entry table being flipped and the vases of flowers shattering on the floor.
Pansy gasped a rattling breath as tears started to leak down her face. Her mask broke like those vases and she sank to the floor with the rest of the flowers as sobs shook her body.
She did not hear the Floo or someone step out of it until large warm hands were on her cheeks and a face appeared in front of her eyes.
"Pansy, are you alright? You're bleeding," Neville's concerned voice drifted into her ear.
"This isn't- this isn't a good time," she stuttered out and tried to shake herself away. He didn't let go. She tried to give him a shove with her hands on his shoulders, but it was weak and he barely rocked backwards. Another sob wracked her body and her fingers clung tightly to his shirt. She could feel his hands moving, his strong arms wrapping around her as she pulled her closer. She pressed her face against his chest and inhaled the natural woodsy scent. She barely noticed the pop as he Apparated them out of the drawing room.
Unbeknownst to Pureblood Society, Mister Blaise Zabini and Missus Luna Zabini (née Lovegood) married during their Eighth Year at Hogwarts. Only Mister Draco Malfoy and Miss Ginny Weasley had been in attendance as witnesses to the union. The couple has been living in secret material bliss in Muggle London ever since. In other news, Mister Picquery has been confusing the Patil sisters so much he had assumed there only to be one of them! Poor form for a Chaser, if I do say so myself.
Lady BloodPure's Society Papers, May 18
The arm was suddenly warm and humid. It was comforting in a way she couldn't place. Each rattling breath she took, trying to contain her sobs and tears, was scented with flowers and soil. Pansy was not sure how long she clung to Neville, but he didn't make any pretense to move or remove her from his persons. Instead he held her tight, his chin resting on the top of her head until she calmed down enough to lean back and look around.
"Where are we?" she asked, her voice cracking.
"The Greenhouse at Hogwarts," he answered, pulling back a bit. His hand found her chin and softly tilted her face up to his. "You're bleeding. Will you be okay for a moment?"
She gulped, but nodded. The festering truth that he found her at her worst making her feel embarrassed. She wanted to hide, but there was nowhere to go. She realized he had sat her atop of a metal table, her feet high off the ground to keep them clean from the dirt floor below. She was not even wearing shoes.
"I thought you couldn't Apparate into Hogwarts," she said, trying to make conversation as she took everything in. This wasn't the classroom greenhouse she was used to. No, there were plants she'd never seen in here before, dangerous ones students shouldn't touch and beautiful ones that were rare or even considered extinct. Had he done all this in just a year?
"Students and the general public," he called out from somewhere between the plants. "But perks of being a Professor."
She nodded. That made sense. It also made sense why she couldn't force herself to Disapparate to run away. He walked out of the greenery with a few leaves in his hand and moved to stand next to her. After rolling the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, he got to work with a mortar and pestle, crushing the leaves he gathered. When the leaves had worked into a paste, he finally put some upon his finger and looked up at her.
"Fresh Dittany so it won't scar," he told her, asking permission. She nodded softly and stilled her breath as he carefully administered the Dittany across the cut on her cheek. She kept her eyes on her manicured feet, ashamed that he caught her in such a state.
"Thank you," she said softly. He nodded and offered her a smile. She took him in. He was dressed in a formal suit that was now crumpled from her pathetic breakdown. He had taken off the jacket at some point, but the white shirt was crumpled and stained with her makeup from when she cried and now the dirt and paste he made for her. "I'm sorry about your suit. And that you had to see me like that."
"Don't be sorry," he said quickly. "Honestly, I'm glad I came through when I did. I'd been coming to ask you to dinner anyways."
She nodded, not sure what else to say, and looked around the greenery some more. It really was quite beautiful. She could feel the hum of magic from each plant thriving under his care. "Could you show me around?"
"Of course," he said, holding out his hand to help her down from the table. When she was steady on her feet, she didn't let go. They walked through the rows of plants, thick and lush from care. He made sure to steer her way from hanging vines that moved to grab hold and dangerous plants that liked to snack on fingers. He showed her the flowers that were used for perfumes and love potions. He was so invested, so knowledgeable, so unlike the Neville she remembered.
"You really love what you do," she said, watching him quickly tuck a plant into the shade to keep its leaves from burning in the direct sunlight streaming through the roof.
"I do," he answered simply.
"I wish I had something like that. That's what my mother thinks at least. That I've got nothing so all I can become is a housewife," Pansy said quietly. She felt the sadness creeping up again, but tried her best to push it down. "I suppose she's right, that I should just marry someone this Season, pop out a few babies, and be happy with whatever hand I'm given."
"Is that what you want?" he asked, giving her hand a squeeze to assure her that she didn't have to answer if she didn't want to. She gave his hand a squeeze back.
She shook her head. "I've always felt like there was more to me than that. That I was made for something bigger. Not saving the world bigger like you," she teased him slightly, "but at least more than directing house elves and entertaining my husband."
"I didn't save the world," he said quietly. She gave him a look. Who could ever forget how he slayed the snake that was the final piece to killing Voldemort. "But you're definitely destined for more than just being a housewife," he told her. "I've never met anyone as strong and resilient as you. If you could do anything, what would you do?"
"I mean. I dunno. I think I'm still lost sometimes. That's half my problem. I've never been told I could be anything else. And even though there are things like how I've always loved Magical Creatures, that was Luna's thing, you know?" She explained. Neville chuckled. "You don't have to laugh, I know I could never be as good as her–"
"Pansy, I'm not laughing at that. I'm laughing that you think it's Luna's thing. One person doesn't get an entire thing to themselves. If Harry or Ron came in today and said they loved plants now, I wouldn't tell them to get out," he explained to her. She gave him a patronizing look.
"I know but I just mean she's– I don't know," Pansy faltered. She really didn't have an argument. She just always knew that Magical Creatures were Luna's interest. Sure the girl focused on extinct and possibly not even real creatures unlike how Pansy enjoyed the more classic and known sort. "I'm not even sure I'd want to work with creatures, I just like them. The idea of them. Reading and learning about them. What could I even do with that?"
"Be a researcher? Or even a Professor?" he offered. She looked up at him with a wry smile.
"You think I'd be good with children?" she asked, a snort of laughter escaping her.
He barked out a laugh, deep and full of mirth "It might take some time, but you couldn't be any worse than Umbridge. Or Lockhart. Or Trelawney. Or Hagrid if I'm being honest. Don't tell Harry."
The laughter in his voice was contagious. She found it bubbling inside of her without even knowing. "We've had some rather awful Professors haven't we?"
Before she knew it, she burst out into giggles. She never did that. It was so unladylike. But it felt good just to laugh, especially with him laughing at her side. When they finally calmed and took some deep breaths, she looked up at Neville thoughtfully. He stared down, blushing slightly, but a charming smile on his lips.
"Why did you enroll in the Season last minute?" she asked. It just didn't make sense why he would put himself through the process for a wife. His family were known Blood Traitors, not that that mattered anymore, but she had a feeling even his Gran didn't care if he married a Pureblood or not. The Season was full of so many rules and standards it was exhausting; no one would want to do it just voluntarily.
"It's not obvious?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
She shook her head.
"Everyone else was doing it. Seemed like a smart idea," he shrugged.
"It's the worst idea," she muttered, rolling her eyes. She regretted every moment of it.
"I dunno. I got to dance with you," he said and suddenly she didn't regret it at all. A pink blush tinged her cheeks and she looked up at him through her eyelashes.
Pansy didn't know what to say. She thought she had the answer to everything and yet here he was time and time again, leaving her speechless and floundering for words. She didn't know what to say, but she knew what she wanted to do.
Stepping closer, she lifted herself on her toes and clutched his shirt with her free hand to tug him down so that she could press her lips against his. He held on to her other hand tightly, but wrapped his free arm around her waist to draw her closer and upwards. Her toes barely touched the dirt beneath them, but she felt steady and safe in his arms.
He kissed her hard, with a passion of years that electrified her body. She finally released his hand from hers, but only so she could wrap her arms around his neck and tangle her fingers into the sandy hair she had tried once to keep styled. She nipped his bottom lip and he opened his mouth to hers, allowing her to taste the corner of his mouth. Large hands moved over her body, one over the gentle swell of her breast. It was a scandal in the making, but nothing could ruin the bliss of the moment.
Suddenly he was gathering her up, his hands lifting her so that she could wrap her legs around his waist. Desire raced through her from her lips to where her hips met his, grinding against him and making him moan into her mouth. She swallowed the deep groans and gasped as her bottom hit cold metal and his hands were back to her breasts, this time traveling up under the blouse that was not suitable for the Season. None of this was suitable for the Season, but she couldn't stop now.
Her nimble fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt before she pushed it from his shoulders. She pulled back just enough to relish his chest and shoulders, built of pure muscle that had been hiding behind fabric.
"The fuck Longbottom," she gasped, but this time he laughed and swallowed her up again in a deep kiss. He pushed the fabric of her shirt up, only breaking the kiss to tug it over her head before returning her lips to his. She unclasped her bra for him, not even waiting for his attempt. She wanted all of her skin pressed to his. She wanted the heat and warmth from his body.
"Gods, you're gorgeous," he said with his breath hot in her ear before moving his lips down across her clavicle. Her back arched and she pressed her hips harder against his; she could feel him through his trousers and fuck she wanted him. All of him. Every inch.
While his lips explored her chest, his fingers undid the button of her pants and slipped inside. She had held his hand in hers, but between her legs she only did realize how big his fingers were and let out as gasp as they teased through the silk she wore. "Don't you dare tease," she threatened though she had barely any power in the situation. No, she was putty in his hands, melting in the humid greenhouse air and on fire from his touch. He pushed the silk to the side and slid his fingers inside of her. She cursed in a way her mother would never forgive her for if she ever heard.
Just two strokes from his fingers and she was already shaking, ready, wanting more. This was good, great even, but she needed more. Her fingers did their best trying to undo the button to his trousers and push them down, but she was distracted as his thumb swept over her clit and had to press her head into the crook of his neck to secure her groan. "I'm going to– Fuck," she tried to warn him and push his hand away, "I need you in me."
"You're going to come twice for me, Pansy. Once on my fingers and then on my cock," he told her, his voice so low and deep in her ear it almost made her come just to hear it. She nodded, about the only thing she could do with the pressure between her legs building at such a rate she couldn't control her shaking. "Good girl."
Her entire body lit on fire from his words. He was pulling moans from the bottom of her throat, broken and horse with desire, but simply perfect. She was building, pulsing, shaking. Her moan cracked into a gasp. She exploded, there was no other way to describe it. His fingers had managed to do what other men could only do once in a blue moon. And as she clung to him, pressing her lips against his to stifle her moans, she remembered he promised more.
She could feel his grin against her lips as his fingers slowed their thrusts, but worked her through her comedown. She had forgotten about him sometime during it all, her arms moving back around his neck to hold on for dear life, but he didn't seem to mind. No, his focus seemed solely on her. She had never been with a man like that, even Draco always wanted to go tit for tat. Turnabout's fair play and all that nonsense. Neville though removed his fingers and held onto her hips to keep them both steady. He waited patiently for her breathing to even out, littering soft kisses on her shoulder. They were just enough to keep the fire on her skin alive.
Finally, when her breathing settled, he said, "I'd like to fuck you now, if that's alright."
"Yes, please ," she whined and almost pulled a muscle with how quickly she nodded. It was alright. More than alright. She needed it. She lifted her hips so he could slide her pants and knickers off in one go. If anyone had ever told her she'd be fucking in the greenhouse of all places, dirt under her bum, sweating from the humid air, probably already looking good and fucked before even getting to the grand finale, she would have laughed in their face. This was not who she was, what she knew as her preference, and yet it was so good she was sure she'd never want it any other way.
Regaining some of her brain power, she finished his trousers for him and pushed them to the ground. He had nothing underneath and her eyes went wide. She had been right. Big hands, big feet, big beautiful cock. "I repeat, the fuck Longbottom."
"It'll fit," he assured her with a chuckle and she snorted. She wasn't sure about that. If he was a tree, she was a very small flower. A pansy if you wanted to be cheeky. "Trust me," he assured her again. Looking into his hazel eyes, she nodded. She did. She trusted him more than she had ever trusted a man before. "Just hold on, love."
He didn't have to tell her twice as he nudged her thighs apart wider. With his large hands on her hips, instead of pushing into her, he dragged her body to his. Instead of just pressing his hips into hers, he guided her onto him making both their bodies come together. Slow, deep, hard, before she knew it she was no longer sitting on the table. No, he was holding her to his body, his hands gripping her ass to hold her and her fingers digging into the muscle of his shoulders and back to hang on for dear life. There was no air between them and their bodies pulsed against each other. She was full of him, absolutely no more room left and as his hips rolled, thrusting against her, she slid further onto him. Slow, deep, hard, she was gasping for air and barely making a sound.
"I never want another cock in my life," she groaned, her eyes locked with his. And even, buried deep into her, he choked out a laugh and grinned so stupidly large his dimples were on full display. Gods he was a gorgeous man. She leaned in to kiss him, moaning into his mouth at each thrust, guiding and moving his hips until she gasped loudly and her body buckled against his. He hit the spot again and she whimpered with pleasure. She could feel his grin in their kiss and she smiled into it too. She was gasping his name, whining it, and finally screaming it as she came hard.
Her nails scraped down his back as he thrust a few more times before groaning loudly and coming inside her, filling her up and making her feel even more full than she thought possible. His knees buckled and she felt her ass touch the cold metal table again, but she refused to release him from between her legs. She kept her ankles locked and held him tight, deep within her, rolling her hips as they came down together. Pansy rested her forehead on his chest, right where his heart was, and could not only hear it but also feel it through the muscle.
He pressed his face into her neck, kissing the soft skin, whispering softly, "fuck Pansy, I'm so fucking yours."
They stayed tangled together, catching their breath, letting the quiet of blooming flowers and happy leaves wash over them. They were covered in a layer of sweat and Pansy could feel soil sticking to the back of her thighs and him dripping out of her, but she didn't care. She actually loved it. She'd never go back to a bed with clean white sheets if it meant having this every night.
"Who the fuck were you shagging at Hogwarts?" Pansy finally said once her breath returned to her lungs and she felt her body back on earth.
"What? Why does that matter," he pulled back to look at her. Confusion was written all over his face. She leaned up to kiss him softly, purely, even with him still inside her, to calm him.
"Because," Pansy insisted. She kissed him again, quickly. A smooch. "Because, Mother of fucking Merlin, Neville, I need to send her a very expensive present."
