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Part One | Strike the Match

Thirteen. Believed the Lie

Right, Pansy, you need to get your shit together.

After all but actually running away from Neville, the highly embarrassing incident from a few days ago still made her cheeks flush when her thoughts momentarily drifted there. Ever since, she had received a number of notes, none signed, but all written in the same messy script. Currently, they were all currently laid out, in the order in which she'd received them, atop the dressing table she was sitting in front of.

He's a fan of notes, Pansy mused, a small smile escaping her lips as she studied the scraps of parchment for what felt like the fiftieth time.

Don't worry. We can go to the library another time.

Didn't see you at dinner, hope everything is OK.

Think I know what book our plant may be in, let me know when you can get together. Hope you're ok.

Can we study together this weekend?

Pansy sighed, her eyes closing as she let her face fall into her awaiting arms, which were awaiting, crossed, on the table's top. Before this year if anyone had sent her notes like this, in such quick succession with barely any knowledge of her, she'd have called them a needy shit and got on with her life. But the way she and Neville seemed to somehow have some sort of pull that Pansy completely and utterly failed to explain even to herself, she just didn't have it in her to feel anything negative about him.

Attempting, yet again, to assess the situation, Pansy scrunched her nose up. She was incredibly and undeniably attracted to him, she knew that, even if it had taken until that first Herbology lesson for her to admit this fact to herself, Pansy Parkinson hopelessly fancied Neville Longbottom was an unbelievable fact she knew to be entirely true. Swallowing hard, Pansy mentally weighed up every other part to this strange aspect of her life, an aspect that she certainly hadn't expected when she boarded the Hogwarts Express only one week ago. Daphne was incredibly approving, and was still completely relentless in her quest for knowledge of any new developments between Pansy and Neville. A snort radiated from Pansy at that moment as the realisation of just how minor the developments in question had been until this point.

It's pathetic really.

Then there was Neville himself.

Pansy glanced back at the four notes laid neatly on the surface in front of her. He was kind. Really, really kind. He had to be, this just proved that. He'd noticed she hadn't been at dinner, that meant he'd looked for her at dinner. The recognition of this fact was enough to cover her arms in a layer of goosebumps and she hugged herself as she pictured his warm, blue eyes scan the Slytherin table for her. Had his brow furrowed when he noted her absence? Did he keep a close eye on the doors to watch for her entrance, which never came? Pansy hoped so, and hated herself for it, because she was still adamantly, almost stubbornly sure that she'd never let anything happen between them. Too risky, too much at stake, she thought again, and again. Until she almost believed the lie herself.

A voice broke Pansy's train of thought, a voice so familiar to her she had to shake herself present enough to realise she hadn't imagined it.

"Pans," Draco repeated.

Pansy turned her head to the right, to face her bedroom door as the torso of Draco Malfoy poked its way into the room. "Yeah?" She asked, hoping he wouldn't notice her hastily gathering up the notes, placing them in a nearby drawer.

"You have a visitor."

"Is it Daph?" Pansy inquired, puzzled as she remembered Daphne talking about some 'batshit crazy runes essay' she'd wanted to finish that evening.

"Nope," Draco answered, elongating the o and peaking Pansy's curiosity.

She narrowed her eyes at the wizard as she stood from her dressing table stool and began to cross the bedroom. "I swear to Merlin, Draco, if this visitor is just Winky with the towels I asked for I'm going to hex you."

"Oh, it's definitely not Winky…" Draco trailed off, before crossing the small landing and entering his own bedroom.

"Where are you-"

Draco cut her off sharply, "There's no doubt in my mind you're going to send me packing anyway. I'm just speeding up the process."

"Alright then," Pansy snapped, annoyed at his dismissiveness.

I hardly ever send you packing - fucking drama queen.

She began to descend the staircase, her curiosity heightening as she approached the bottom step and she pushed the door that led to the living room ajar, before stepping through. She scanned the living room, quickly noticing its sole occupant. A tall, definitely not Daphne-shaped figure was seemingly examining the ugly cupcake picture. A dark blue t-shirt covered his upper body, and his wand was stashed haphazardly in the back pocket of a pair of too-old jeans.

Pansy gulped, he hadn't yet noticed her presence and she spent a few long seconds just watching him. He gave his nose a quick scratch - Pansy probably shouldn't have known that he did that a lot, before shoving his hands in his front pockets and turning and glancing around powder blue room. His expression was unreadable and blank, or it was until he noticed Pansy, standing in the doorway. She mentally noted how his eyes softened considerably as the pair stood, neither moving nor averting their eyes from the other.

Pansy swallowed before she was the one to finally break the twinned gaze. She trailed her eyes over the parts of herself she was able to see with a sudden gulp of what, exactly, she must look like. Her outfit was less than optimal for a meeting with the one person you were incredibly attracted to. A pair of large, cosy, knitted socks donned her feet; they were a mauve purple and could be pulled up to the bottoms of her thighs when straightened. At present they were bunched, untidily, around her ankles. Her legs were bare save for a pair of striped, grey and white pyjama shorts, and a large Slytherin Quidditch jersey hung unflatteringly over her torso. The jersey had belonged to Draco for about a week before Pansy had claimed it for herself several years ago, it was large and comfy and one of her favourite garments. Her dark hair was pulled back messily in a hurried bun and her makeup had long been removed.

I look like a fucking bag lady.

Luckily, her visitor didn't seem to mind as she noticed his eyes drift over her entirety in what was momentarily a very un-Neville-like manner. His gaze paused in the briefest of moments on her legs, which at least, Pansy thanked the Gods, were free of hair.

Swallowing, Pansy looked back up her green gaze meeting his blue eyes once again. The corners of his eyes, she noticed, tugged slightly when he shot her a small smile.

Breathe!

"Hi, Pansy."

Somehow, she managed to not squeak. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Longbottom?"

Neville took a small step forward. He was looking at her so intently Pansy felt as though he was questioning her a thousand times over, lines were grooved over his forehead, like a collection of parallel rivers and somehow Pansy was sure they were full of all the questions she knew he wanted to ask her. His stance was rigid and his mouth was a mere thin line, surrounded by his strong jaw. It was, however, his eyes that Pansy chose to focus her attention to. And even now, even with the concern that was exploding from the rest of his features, his eyes remained calm and kind and gentle. Even from across the room they calmed her and somehow made her feel, almost believe,that everything would be alright, that everything was alright.

I don't know how he does that.

"I needed-" Neville began, and all of a sudden the collected demeanour that he'd displayed just a second before crumbled. Pansy recognised his metaphorical mask - something she supposed they did have in common, had melted away and she continued to watch quietly as he swallowed before he finished, somewhat meekly, "-to know you were okay."

Pansy blinked, her eyes never left his face and she wasn't entirely sure she trusted her emotions to stay in check, yet she knew she couldn't afford a repeat of last time. NO! No, I'm not okay...NOTHING is okay and I don't know what to do! She screamed, internally, wishing more than anything at that moment to be able to tell him every worry, every trouble, and every doubt that was plastered, permanently into her mind. Knowing she couldn't, Pansy settled on the only word she trusted herself to say outwardly. "Why?"

"I-I don't know."

Pansy nodded, slowly. The answer, same as the one she'd given him only days before, confusing as it was, somehow made more sense than almost everything else currently going on this year.

"Do you want to sit?" Pansy asked, gesturing towards the couch as she did. "I can get Winky to get some food if you…" trailing off, Pansy looked around awkwardly. She realised that outside of a classroom setting, and to be honest, even in a classroom setting, she had very little to talk to Longbottom about, she doubted greatly that they had even one thing in common.

"Winky?" Neville queried.

Pansy noticed the slightest hints of a smile tugging at his mouth. "Head Boy and Girl get a House Elf," Pansy answered with a slight shrug as she moved towards the couch.

Neville followed suit. They sat down almost simultaneously, granting them a far closer proximity than they'd shared thus far.

"I didn't know that," Neville mused aloud. "I never had a House Elf at home."

"Neither did I, on both accounts," Pansy said, beginning to relax as she told him the story of how she and Winky had first become acquainted. "-so I'm in the bathroom, through there," she pointed through the door that led to the rest of the quarters, "-and then I hear Draco roar his fucking head off, so I run through and he's holding Winky by her ears! Her ears are massive, by the way. And she's just dangling there looking at him, and it's sort of hilarious and sort of really, really not, and then-" Pansy stopped. She looked at Neville, a genuine, wide smile on her face as she watched Neville laugh so hard he actually rocked back and forward in his seat. Pansy could do nothing to stop her joining him.

"Ahem," a small, yet perfectly audible, squeak interrupted their hysterics. Pansy looked up, wiping a small tear from her left eye and forced her mouth closed, pursing her lips as she tried to stop herself from succumbing to even more laughter. To her left she felt Neville outwardly shake, she assumed he was in a similar predicament.

"Hello, Winky," Pansy managed to somehow say through gritted teeth.

Winky, rather spectacularly, considering she had no eyebrows to raise, raised her eyebrows. "Winky heard her name, Miss," the elf replied. Pansy noticed she was clearly rather grumpy about the witch's choice of anecdote. Oh, damn. I bet she heard all of that.

"Right, yeah. Winky could we get some food please?"

"Of course, would Miss like Winky to surprise Miss, and...ohhhhh-" The elf paused, her large eyes now resting on Neville. She continued, much more enthusiastically, "Winky hasn't met this young Master before, has Miss got herself a mate? Oh, this is most exciting for Winky!"

"No! Oh, my Gods, Winky shut up!" Pansy squealed, as Neville erupted into a new round of hysterics. Winky turned on her small heel, and Pansy, now rather furious with the elf, swore she heard the words, "Teach Miss to discuss Winky's mishap with Master with any old boy Miss brings to the rooms that Winky cares to, so it does."

Pansy felt her face frown as she glared at the spot Winky had just occupied. Fucking elf.

"I like Winky," Neville stated happily.

"I, currently, do not," Pansy exclaimed, willing herself not to giggle any more as Neville barked a singular, carefree laugh himself.

Tentatively, she began to speak again, careful not to use Winky's name aloud this time, "So, I hadn't had much experience of House Elves before, only Tula, who is Daphne's family Elf. And honestly," Pansy dropped her voice to a whisper, "I had no idea House Elves had such attitudes!"

"We never had an elf," Neville repeated. "I thought you would have, being a Parkinson and everything." The sentence could have so easily been laced with a sneer, an insult, and had it come from the mouths of a number of students, it would have. But if Neville meant any hint of snide at Pansy's last name, he hid it well.

Pansy shook her head, trying to hide the sadness she knew must now be in her eyes, thoughts of her childhood filling her mind like quicksand. Ever since she met Tula, the same day she'd met Daphne, Pansy had wished and wished her mother would get a House Elf. Lilith instead opted to pay cleaning witches to serve the Parkinson homestead, cleaning witches which were always informed not to bother with the child.

"You alright?" She heard Neville ask. Pansy shook herself physically and mentally, forcing herself to focus on the now.

"Yeah, I just, didn't really like my childhood."

Why am I telling him this?

Neville looked up, staring at the wall that faced them. "Me neither."

Well, at least we do have one thing in common, Pansy thought with a sad twinge in her heart as she mimicked the way he stared at the wall. Pansy swallowed and the two settled into a comfortable silence, lost in their own thoughts until they were involuntarily pulled back into the present by a familiar squeak.

"Winky has brought Miss and her new mate lots of lovely foods!"

They quickly finished most of the food Winky had acquired, which Pansy had developed a spluttering coughing fit the moment she'd seen the contents of the tray the elf was carrying. A plate of oysters-

Fucking oysters, are you off your head Winky?

-was situated next to a larger plate, this one containing nothing but a stack of ribs-

I don't even know what you're thinking is on that one

-and a third small platter held some halved strawberries and a small bowl of what looked like melted chocolate.

You are something else, Elf.

Neville sunk back into the couch as Pansy curled her feet beneath her legs, turning her torso to the left to face the Gryffindor. Her left elbow was propped against the back of the couch fabric, a strand of hair that had fallen from her bun twirling between her left thumb and index finger.

"I don't think I've ever seen you like this," he said, after clearing his throat.

"In my pyjamas, with rib sauce all over me? No, I don't suppose you have."

"Ha! Well, yes, that, but I meant... you know, relaxed."

"To be honest, a relaxed me isn't a very common sight at the moment, feel privileged, Longbottom."

"I do," Neville answered, quietly.

Me too.

The comfortable silence they'd sat in earlier returned, until the door leading to the corridor containing the kitchen and bathroom opened, and the sound of Draco clearing his throat broke the quiet.

"Don't suppose you mind me sitting in my own living room, do you Pans?"

"I never once minded, you pillock," Pansy snapped tartly, which earned her a snort from both Draco and Neville simultaneously.

"Alright, Longbottom?" Draco added, sounding surprised himself when he spoke the words. "Suppose I'd better get used to you hanging around, should I?" He flopped into his chair, taking turns glaring back and forth at Neville and Pansy.

"Um, what? No, no not really. Shut up, Draco."

Smooth, Pansy.

"Oh," Draco began and executed an exaggerated eye roll. "Still in denial then, well that's fun. Where's my whisky?" He added, his grey eyes beginning to search the perimeter of the living room.

"Draco, I am not in-"

"-there it is. Accio liquid-of-perfection!" Draco snorted again, this time at himself as the bottle flew into his outstretched hand, completely ignoring Pansy and the fact he'd cut her off. The blonde sighed. "I cannot believe I'm even contemplating this but, Longbottom, whisky?"

"Sure," Neville answered, his voice laced with a touch of uncertainty. "Thanks...Malfoy."

Draco grunted in response before summoning Winky back into the room. "Winky we need three glasses tonight."

"Oh yes, of course, Master. Winky is most pleased to fetch them for you. And I must say, Winky is most pleased that Master has put all his jealousy aside, in favour of being a good host to Miss Pansy's new mate."

"Fucking excuse me!? Jealous? I've never been jealous in my life. Winky you come and take that back right now. Winky! WINKY!" Draco had sprung from his seat in annoyance and was looking around haughtily.

"I think she's gone Draco," Pansy tried not to laugh, getting an overwhelming sense of deja vu as she felt Neville do the same beside her.

"Well," Draco slumped back down, clearly still unhappy. "I am not jealous, just so you know. And if I was going to be jealous of someone, it certainly is not going to be of him," he spat, opting to swig his first drink of firewhisky straight from the bottle. "Fucking elf," he muttered just in time for Winky to prance back into the room, a small circular tray bobbing over her head as she did. Pansy was certain she heard the elf omit a small chuckle to herself.

Neville left an hour or so later after he and Pansy had agreed to start working on their Herbology project together the following weekend. The three had, somehow, managed to have multiple laughs, tell a multitude of stories, and generally have a good time.

"Well," Draco began, his words slurring together into one. "if you had told me last week that I'd be having a whisky with fucking Longbottom, I'd have stuck my wand up your arse. But he's actually not the worst person in the world. Funny what spending the summer living with a psychotic mass murdering tyrant will do to your perception."

Pansy snorted, she didn't know what to feel, the alcohol coursing through her system was certainly not helping her process any thoughts or emotions.

"You really like Longbottom?" Draco asked, watching her through heavy, almost entirely closed eyes. Pansy stared back at him, one of her oldest friends, her first everything, someone she trusted with her life, and the person she'd never managed to successfully lie to, and nodded, slowly, in the same rhythm as Draco's fresh snores.