Cubicle 23

Longbottom, Neville. Parkinson, Pansy. Please enter cubicle 23 to begin the process for matrimony.

Pairing: Pansy/Neville
Rating: teen
Warnings: none
Tropes: marriage law
Words: 457
Original Release Date: 09 Feb 2020

"I can't believe I got stuck with you," she said, a look of revulsion on her face as she looked Neville up and down.

"Really, Parkinson? That's all you've got to say about this—" he waved his hand in the air, gesturing to the tiny cubicle they had been assigned. "You're not worried about your freedom or the fact that we're going to have to have sex, have babies?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "I was going to have an arranged marriage anyway. They could at least have paired me with someone with a bit more... class."

"Hmph." He didn't know how this was going to work. Sure she was pretty, as long as she wasn't wrinkling her nose up like she smelled manure on her shoes, but they had completely different ideologies, different life goals. He'd grown up with the assumption that he'd get to marry for love. And this... this wasn't it.

She was looking at him again, from the side of her eye. "I guess you've outgrown your... lumpiness." Her sneer faded, turning into slight curiosity as she gave him another, more thorough, once over.

Neville tried not to snort. Lumpiness? He had been a chubby kid. It had taken some effort, but he definitely wasn't chubby now. He didn't bother trying to pretend he didn't see her checking him out.

"You're not destitute or anything, right?"

It was his turn to roll his eyes but he answered. "I'm comfortable."

A disembodied, monotonous voice spoke from above their heads. "The paperwork for your marriage is complete. You may kiss the bride." Neville and Parkinson waited, expecting the door to unlatch now that they had gone through the ridiculous hoops the Ministry had instituted when it had enacted the Marriage and Issue Act. When nothing happened after a short pause, the voice spoke again, "You may kiss the bride."

Neville leaned forward and gave Parkinson a peck on the lips.

The lock still didn't unlatch.

"Oh, for the love of—" Neville said, his patience running low. He raised his hand and cupped her jaw, subtlely manoeuvring her where he wanted her. He kissed her, funnelling his frustrations with the Ministry into a short but passionate liplock.

While they were stepping back from each other, the door unlocked and the voice above said, "Congratulations on your matrimony. Please exit the cubicle so the next couple can be processed."

Pansy hummed and reached up to touch her lips; she seemed to be looking at Neville in a new light. Before they left the small space, she murmured, "Maybe this won't be so bad after all."

Neville chose to pretend not to hear her, though he couldn't stop a smirk from forming on his lips. Maybe not.