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Part One | Strike the Match
Twelve. Flecks of Gold
"And you're positive you'd both rather stay here?" Theo was wondering incredulously. "I mean, as fucking beautiful as it is, you're more than welcome to come back to Slytherin. Unless, of course, you prefer this..." He gestured vaguely at the powder blue walls.
"Not a chance mate. I've got a permanent headache just being here, but McGonagall said something about all the prefect information being here, and instead of coming up with a schedule for patrols-"
"Patrols which should have started yesterday!" Pansy interjected with a pang of guilt
"-we decided to get slaughtered on our first night back. Then the Twat Twins put us both on a right fucking downer last night. So now…" Draco trailed off with a small shrug and an irritated sigh.
"Not a problem, old bean!" Theo answered in pompous over exaggeration and playfully smacked Draco's left shoulder. "But you simply must come visit in the morn'!"
"You're an idiot!" Pansy laughed as she swatted Theo's hand which he was currently attempting to grab one of her own with. "And you! My favourite raven-haired Ice-Queen! You must also come back to our underground lair of the serpents!"
"Goodbye, Theodore!" Draco exclaimed loudly and all but forcibly pushed Theo through the exiting door. He was followed, swiftly, by Millicent, who allowed the rather intoxicated Theo to drape one arm over her shoulders, steadying him, as they began to walk down the corridor.
"I bid thee farewell!" They heard Theo cry from the corridor beyond. Laughing and shaking their heads, Pansy and Draco also bid Blaise and Daphne goodbye, the latter pulling Pansy into a bone-crushing hug whilst her voice cracked as she said, "This was fun. I miss you. Please do come tomorrow night," Daphne released her best friend and continued, "-both of you." She quickly hugged Draco and Blaise wrapped his arms quickly around Pansy before grasping Draco's right hand in his own briefly, and the two quickly stepped through the door and disappeared to the right. Their footsteps rang for a short minute before their three friends turned to descend the staircase Pansy knew they must have reached. The pair turned to face each other, and Draco shut the door behind him before they made their way back to the seating area.
"Well, we've had a productive start to the year," he began as he slouched back into his favoured armchair once more. "Third day's over and we've had all of five classes, skived two, and had one cut short because the teacher is a demented sociopath who Crucio'd a student. Fuck me. Well, at least, we're clearly the most model Head Boy and Girl Hogwarts has ever had."
"We probably should have gone to Arithmancy," Pansy mused.
Draco shrugged, shaking his head again in amusement. "It was worth it. I haven't laughed that much since we came back. In fact, it was worth it just to see Theo's Sexy Alecto impression!"
"Oh my Merlin, yes!"
Draco sighed and rubbed his eyes. He observed his silver wristwatch. "It's nearly eight, bloody hell! We'll have to start the patrol schedule. I definitely need some food as well though. WINKY!"
Two Days Later...
Try not to be a dick this time, Pansy.
It was their first Herbology lesson since they'd been assigned their pairs, and even though she'd seen him in both Divination and Charms at various points over the past few days, both classes had consisted of Pansy awkwardly attempting to look anywhere but Neville.
Divination had by far been the worst of the two in terms of embarrassment. Daphne, taking full advantage of the fact that this was the first time she'd spent any alone time with Pansy since the disastrous Muggle Studies class spent the entire lesson prying Pansy for information on her newfound attraction towards Neville. Instead of listening to Professor Trelawny, Daphne was intent on bombarding Pansy in a barrage of annoyingly hissed questions. Trelawny's usual dramatic demeanour was seemingly gone and replaced by a rather monotonic drone, as the Seer spoke of signs of light in the darkest of spaces.
Why did I say that shit about his jawline? Pansy groaned as she attempted to ignore Daphne.
In truth, she'd never expected Daphne to work out that she wasn't joking when she uttered her want to run her tongue over Neville's jaw. Until, of course, she'd completely blown that cover by failing miserably, to not only stop staring at him but finding herself unable to not act when she witnessed him being so cruelly cursed by Alecto.
"Have you kissed him?" Daphne whispered across the small round table the pair had occupied.
"Have I...are you mad? Of course I've not bloody kissed him!"
"But you want to?"
"Shut up!"
"Oh, you do want to! Oh, it's so romantic!"
Pansy didn't reply; she had no response. Yet, she'd internally queried Daphne's words countless times since. Romantic? It certainly didn't feel romantic.
"No," she explained, "if anything were to happen, which it won't, if we were caught, he could be killed. I could be killed for being with a traitor. Actually killed. They'd kill people for less. It's too hard, Daph. There's too much at stake," Pansy had finished miserably. She knew her words were true. The relatively safe world she'd grown up in was gone; now all that mattered was staying alive - Draco had been saying as much since last year.
"Also," Pansy muttered, begrudgingly, "I've spent the entire time I've known him berating and making fun of him. The chance of him even looking at me like that are slim to none. In fact, deep down, he probably hates me."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Daphne had hissed in response.
Pansy frowned. "Why?"
"Well, he's looking at you right now...and he doesn't look like he hates you."
The Herbology lesson, a double, hadn't been the catastrophic mess that Pansy had felt, with an absolute surety, it would be. Neville had a much more casual and calm demeanor than he'd had with her thus far, and Pansy did her best to hide her usual dryness, desperate not to appear so rude again. Neither spoke of the Muggle Studies class, and Neville didn't mention the thank you note he'd put in her bag and Pansy didn't either. She couldn't help feel though that the slightly more relaxed air between them was a direct result of him knowing somehow she'd received his message.
"So, remember how I said I thought our plant was in my book?" Neville asked, running his left hand through his short, dark hair. His brow furrowed as he continued, "Well, uhh, I was wrong. It wasn't even close to our plant, so...I guess we will definitely be working from scratch." Pansy laughed, out loud, before clasping her hand to her mouth, horrified, as though she'd spoken an incredibly offensive term. Keep up the fucking pretence. Don't be a twat to him, but no niceties.
Pansy herself frowned, blurting out a rushed, "Fine by me," as she busied herself examining the nails on her left hand.
It really has to stop, Pansy told herself, swallowing, as she tried to ignore the way the slight enthusiasm appeared in his voice when he spoke about deciphering the puzzle that was their plant. Not for what people might say, not for the annoyance of Daphne's probing, not wholly for her. But for him. The realisation of just how much selflessness Pansy apparently was capable of possessing had come as something of a surprise to her. It was jarring, somehow, to know she was wholly thinking of an other.
But yet...it made perfect sense. The only sense.
Pansy's father, at least, was in far too deep in the enormity that was the current war. And Pansy knew that meant she was in too deep also. She was on one side, despite how much she hated the fact. She would attempt to hinder it as much as she could without risking herself too much but she knew she was no hero, and she simply wasn't prepared to blindly sacrifice herself like some reckless Gryffindor might. This secondary realisation halted her slightly less than the first. Not quite that selfless, then. Neville, the tall boy she currently stood next to - that a small, yet annoyingly loud part of her wished against all else that she could, what? Touch? Kiss? More?- would do whatever he could, she knew for definite, to defy the Carrows and the Dark Lord's plans. His blood didn't wholly run red, it was tinged with flecks of gold, somehow the small cowardly lump he'd once appeared as was as much a lion as any she'd seen. He'd do anything...and she simply wasn't prepared to.
The thought, as much as she tried to swat it away, only made her want him more.
Why can't you go back to looking like a bag of sand? That'd make this much easier.
"Library?" Neville enquired. His eyebrows had shot up questioningly at her last response, though he'd said nothing and Pansy noted that he seemed slightly put out and her stomach dropped. Being a bitch when she wanted to be a bitch was one thing, and it was one thing Pansy had always been effortlessly gifted at, but it was a whole different matter when she didn't wish to be but felt she had no other choice. That was, she was discovering, gut-wrenching.
"Yeah," she replied, her voice sad and her heart heavy. They walked in silence exiting the greenhouse, Neville holding the potted plant in his hands as they began the climb of the grounds towards the castle.
"You know, you've surprised me this week," Neville said, rather bluntly, as though he'd rushed and dared himself to speak his mind. Oh shit, Longbottom. Don't get deep with me!
A simple "Oh?" was all she could muster. Her palms were beginning to sweat as she mentally repeated the word pretence over and over in her mind.
"I've had the distinct impression - for the first time ever, mind - that you don't entirely hate me."
Blinking, Pansy found her stride stop abruptly and felt her breath had done the same. She was going to have to lie. Somehow, she'd been more drawn to Neville in the last week than she had any male her entire life. She still didn't remotely understand it; the way his eyes made her instantly weak, and his jaw, Godric, his jaw! made her stomach try to pull itself inside out. Tears pooled in her eyes.
Oh my fucking hell, Pansy, whatever you do, you CANNOT cry in front of him.
Swallowing hard, her tears seemed to take heed to her panicked thoughts, at least, while she continuously blinked. Opening her mouth, she readied herself to tell him what she had to tell him; that he was still just the same old Fat Arse Longbottom…
"That's because...I...don't…" Pansy trailed off weakly, instantly scolding herself internally despite the fact she knew from the minute he'd queried his thoughts aloud that she would never have lied to him, would never have insulted him to help cover her own skin. But it's not just my skin, it's his too.
Neville nodded, his expression understanding, yet his eyes were worried. "Why?"
"I don't know," Pansy admitted, honestly. Flying fuck! What am I doing?
Neville nodded some more. "I don't know, either." His words made Pansy's breath catch even deeper in her throat. He doesn't, what? They began walking again, their strides slow yet steady. Pansy desperately wanted to question him, to dissect every single part of the four words he'd just spoken. He doesn't what?! They trekked in silence, and somehow now Pansy felt both comfortable yet also tense in his presence. He doesn't what?!
"Pansy?" Neville ventured as they reached the vicinity of the main doors.
"Yes?" she turned to face him once more, though she may not have, had she known before she looked at him that his eyes would become even more startlingly open to her, as though they were saying a hundred things he wouldn't allow his mouth to.
"It's...everything will...it's okay. Or, it will be."
His words cracked something deep inside of her, forcing her own reply to come out barely more than a croaked, emotional whisper. "I wish I could believe you." And as she pushed past him, wishing more than anything that the arm she grazed past could somehow wrap itself around her, she hurried in front of him, until only one thought stayed in her mind: he cannot see you cry.