Whomever said that this would be the year without scandal was completely and utterly incorrect. Secret marriages, ultimatums for courting, engagements between once enemies… And now, Miss Daphne Greengrass withdrew her place to date, and I do mean date not court, a Muggle! All is not lost for our dear American Quidditch Player Mister Picquery, but his options are becoming limited! Gather your bets, Witches and Wizards, will it be Miss Greengrass or Miss Parkinson that wins his hand. If either lady has any standards, the answer will be neither.

Lady BloodPure's Society Papers, May 25

"This is your last shot Pansy, do not ruin this," her mother whispered into her ear. "I do not know where you have been these last few days, but I have spoken with Mister Picquery about your interest in him and he is very interested in you and your dowry."

Pansy was not paying much attention to whatever her mother was saying. In fact, she stopped listening at all minutes ago. Instead she looked across the ballroom of the Greengrass Manor searching for a very tall man that she had not been without for longer than twenty-four hours during the last week. She knew it was ridiculous, that it was lust and need driving her, but she rather cut off one of her arms than not have Neville by her side a second longer.

She had only left his bed earlier today to get ready for another dumb ball. Though the Christian Dior vintage ball gown she wore had once belonged to a Muggle Princess so if anyone stole the design they would know Pansy had the original, it still meant she had to spend a few hours this afternoon getting ready without Neville to keep her company while her mother prattled on about the Season being half over and Pansy having no viable suitors. Except Pansy did. A very viable one.

How did this even happen? One good fuck and she was a goner. Not one. Many. Multiple times. In every position. Just this morning he had her bent over the bathroom sink positioned just right so she could watch him in the mirror hit that spot oh so perfectly. Pansy flushed red with the thought of how hard she had come. She even had to glamor the love bite he left on her shoulder because of the strapless bodice of her dress.

But it was not just the good sex. The amazing, mind blowing, send her floating through the atmosphere sex. It was the moments before and after. The soft touches and the lopsided grins. It was the conversations about their past, present, and futures, together and apart. It was how he saw her as a person, true to herself, and gave her the hope and confidence to be the things she didn't even realize she was.

It was the way he held her and promised her he'd protect her, that he'd be by her side while she found herself. That though they had once been lost children forced to fight, they didn't have to be lost adults. How she wasn't stuck because she was smart and strong. How she didn't need a man to stand on her own two feet, but he'd gladly hold her hand if she needed it. How she not only picked the beaded ball gown because it was original, but also gold like a certain House's colors.

Fuck, she was going to be in love with him within the month if she wasn't already.

Which is why she was so lost in her daydream of the man she was looking for, she did not notice Mister Lucas Picquery standing in front of her. She also did not notice him because he was short. Maybe just her height, but she was looking for a tree.

"Ahem," he coughed to get her attention.

"Oh, sorry. Yes?" Pansy said, blinking a few times in confusion. In the past month, she had actually never spoken to the man. He was good looking, fit as a Quidditch player should be, but his eyes were blue and his hair was black. There were no dimples in his very straight smile. He stood cockily, as if she should be happy for the attention. He was not her Neville.

Picquery moved down to one knee. Her eyes grew to the size of saucers.

"Oh hell no," Pansy said, shaking her head.

"Miss Pansy Parkinson, will you be my wife?" he declared in the middle of the dancefloor for everyone to see, including her mother. Was this what she meant by arranging things? Oh it was a good thing she did not have her wand on her right now because she would be Avada Kedavra-ing her mother right here on the dance floor if she did.

Pansy just stood there, horrified. Had she even come within six feet of this man once all Season? She looked up, searching for Neville in the crowd. When she found him, he was covering his mouth with his large hand. Had she not known him, she would have thought it was in horror or shock, but she knew he was hiding back a chuckle and lopsided grin at the predicament. She glared at him and his hazel eyes danced with the laughter he was trying to contain.

Once again, thinking too long about Neville led her mother to speak for her.

"She's speechless, of course she–" her mother gasped.

"NO!" Pansy gasped. That sure shot Pansy out of her shock. "No! Absolutely not. Would rather be kissed by a Dementor than you."

"Pansy! You will agree–" her mother gasped. Neville barked out his laughter, unable to hold it. Blaise, next to Neville, doubled over in his laughter and held on to his friend's arm to not fall over.

"I said absolutely not. Marry him yourself, Mother, I will not," Pansy shook her head. She could feel the soft whisper of magic along her skin confirming her rejection had been heard and that she would never be able to marry Picquery- thank Merlin.

Blaise howled harder in laughter. Picquery was lost in confusion; he had been told he would get a yes. Pureblood women weren't supposed to say no, just be wooed and accept large bouquets of flowers.

"And with that, I am leaving," Pansy announced and shot a look to Neville, nodding her head to the door before picking up her large skirt and dashing out before her mother could stop her. She knew since they were in public her mother would hold her tongue, but the second they were alone, she would not hear the end of it. She was not going to be put in that position.

Pansy was out of the Manor and almost to the Apparition point before she heard her name. She turned around quickly to find Neville following her as she motioned him to. But in her walk out of the Manor, she had enough time to think and transfer her anger at the situation from Picquery to him. She was angry at him for laughing. For not coming to save her. Though she didn't need saving, she had it handled for herself, but it would have been nice.

"I did not turn him down for you," she said, rounding about and pointing her finger at his chest. She poked at him a few times until he caught her finger in his hand and pulled her forward. He, once again, was not wearing gloves. He was a mess, not of Pureblood standards in the least.

"No, of course not," he murmured through his smirk as he wrapped his arms around her.

"I did it for myself because he is a disgusting Rake and I get to pick who I love," she told him sternly. She pressed up on her toes to give him a kiss, but pulled back remembering she was still mad at him. "And just because I am falling for you does not mean that you can just–"

"You're falling for me?" he asked, grinning with both dimples peacocking out and proud.

"Obviously!" she huffed at him. How could he be smiling when she was so annoyed. It only frustrated her further. "And you've done nothing about it!"

"Nothing?" he asked. He procured an envelope from inside his robes. Her eyes grew.

"That better not be what I think it is," she snapped at him.

"You just said I've done nothing about it!" he laughed.

"Yes, but I just meant–" she didn't know what she meant, what she wanted from him. She most certainly did not want to jump into an engagement just because the Season forced it down their throats and demanded it of them, but if she had to choose between him and nothing, she didn't not want to be engaged to him, if that made sense.

"It's not," he assured her, but Pansy was still skeptical. She plucked it out of his hands and started to tear it open, not even paying attention to the wax seal or how it was addressed.

"I swear to Merlin if you are attempting to give me a Letter of Intent after I was just proposed to–" she started as she ripped it open. "My mother would never agree to it and then magic would seal it so we could never be together so you better not be tricking me into reading–"

Dear Miss Parkinson,

Professor Grubbly-Plank has informed me she would like to retire within the next year and would like an apprentice to start training to take over Care of Magical Creatures. Per the recommendation of Professor Longbottom, I would like to offer you the position. I believe you would make a wonderful addition to our staff. Please let me know your decision at your earliest convenience.

Sincerely,

Headmistress Minerva McGonagall

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Pansy read the letter then re-read the letter.

"This isn't a Letter of Intent," she repeated.

"I told you; I'm very aware your mother isn't a fan because of the whole Longbottom Blood Traitor thing," he said, still smiling. She was going to smack that smile off his face if he didn't kiss her with it soon.

"McGonagall thinks I can teach?" she asked, plowing full steam ahead to the next topic without pause.

"So do I," Neville nodded, just rolling with it all. Any other man would call her crazy, she knew that, but he just patiently spoke to her and kissed her quickly when she was distracted.

"So you're not proposing?" she confirmed. He turned a lovely shade of red.

"I mean, I would like the chance to work up to that. It's still early days," he said, blushing slightly. She didn't hate that answer. Not at all really. It summed up exactly how she was feeling.

"You really think I can teach?" she asked, going back to the letter. She was making herself dizzy with the whiplash of her mind, but there was too much at once to think about.

"Yes, Pansy, I do. You love magical creatures, I think you'd be perfectly fine with children… eventually, and honestly you're a brilliant writer," he explained, only a small touch of annoyance coming through but nothing compared to anything she ever threw at him. She wouldn't hold it against him since she knew she was acting a bit, well, dramatic.

"How do you know I write?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"I finally read the paper, Lady BloodPure ," he told her. That one made her freeze.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She lied through her teeth.

"Don't make me spank you," he said in a tone that made her toes curl. He knew that would make her melt. Sneaky Longbottom. Could have been in Slytherin with a play like that.

"Please don't be mad at me!" she whined, relenting on her lies. He grinned wide in his victory.

"I'm not mad, you called me charming." Drat she had written that, hadn't she? "Though our friends might be if they ever find out."

"I only wrote to help them with their relationships," she hedged. It was only a half-lie. Some of it had been to get back at them for being obnoxious with her.

"You called Astoria an unattractive plum," he reminded her.

"Well she deserved that one, she stole my dress," Pansy murmured. "How'd you figure it out?"

He stepped closer, cupping her face and kissed her good and hard, making her foot pop into the air even, then pulled away but rested his forehead against hers. She wasn't even sure if it was possible to swoon harder than she just did. Thank god he was holding her and keeping her upright.

"Because everyone knows I've been in love with you since Eighth Year, Pans. And that I don't care about Pureblood tradition or society and I refuse to ever wear gloves, but Hermione told me you'd be there looking for a husband and I thought, well, I thought I'd rather make a fool of myself than lose the chance to be with you," he confessed easily, as if he would rather die than let his fondness continue to be hidden. "And BloodPure had no idea the entire time."

Her jaw was on the floor. "You're in love with me?"

"Desperately," he promised. It was definitely possible to swoon harder because she was off on a cloud, her heart doing cartwheels around the sun.

She smiled so wide she was sure even she had dimples and jumped onto him, doing her best to wrap her arms and legs around him even through the seven layers of silk, organza, and netting of her skirt. He was laughing, doing his best to wrap his arms around her and hold her up against his body before leaving down to kiss her hard and deeply. She clung to him for dear life and kissed him with even more than that. They clung together, even as he fell backwards onto his ass and they broke out into bubbles of laughter.

"Alright there Miss Parkinson?" he said through the childish laughter.

She nodded, "Alright there Mister Longbottom?"

He answered by kissing her deeply.


The end of the Pureblood Season has finally come to a close with the Malfoy-Granger wedding. Like Seasons before, this one started out with a bang (multiple in fact) and ended with bells. The most recent engagement is that of Miss Astoria Greengrass and Mister Lucas Picquery. Seems once he stopped looking for a hefty dowry to subsidize his gambling debts, he fell easily and quickly in love. Astoria claims she knew she loved him during their first dance, she was just waiting for him to catch up. Though it may not hurt that, while not as big as her older sister's, Astoria has a rather hefty dowry herself.

The only Pureblood woman that has finished the season without a ring on her finger is one Miss Pansy Parkinson. Instead of finding a husband, the girl went and got herself a job . All the Mama's and I are appalled, to say the least. The unwed Miss Parkinson will be moving back to Hogwarts, where she will be apprenticing and one day taking over Care of Magical Creatures for a retiring Professor Grubbly-Plank. To add more gasps for our poor Mama's hearts, she spent the entirety of the reception dancing with the charming Mister Neville Longbottom - and neither of them were wearing gloves!

It has been a wonderful Season my dear readers, but I regret to inform you that it will be my one and only. Good luck on the Pureblood Seasons to come,

Lady BloodPure's Society Papers, August 30

Pansy could feel Neville reading over her shoulder as she signed her pen name for the last time. Her breath caught in her throat, wondering what he was thinking.

"You're going to have to rewrite that," he finally said.

She turned and looked up over her shoulder at him, raising an eyebrow. In the past two months, he had never made much comment about her being Lady BloodPure. At most he teased her for the shade she wrote about herself or would even comment that she should be writing books of fiction instead of gossip.

"Did I get something wrong?" she asked, turning back to read over her parchment. "Fuck, I called you charming again."

"Not just that," he said, leaning over to place his mother's engagement ring on the parchment in front of her.

Pansy froze mid strike of the offending adjective. She looked back over her shoulder at Neville; he was standing bashfully, a tree with dimples, just casually asking her to marry him. She'd never loved a man so wholly in her life.

"Damnit Neville, now I have to rewrite the whole thing."