Part One | Strike the Match
Seventeen. Wanting You
"Okay, will you please put me out of my misery?" Draco asked in a bored sounding drawl after handing Pansy a glass of their usual night time firewhisky. The pair were back in their own living quarters now, having stayed later than they had intended in the company of their friends down in the Slytherin common room.
"What are you talking about?" Pansy answered, examining the liquid, knowing exactly what the jist of Draco's next sentence would be, inwardly cursing his ability to read her so well.
"Don't give me that. From the moment you arrived tonight, very late, may I add, you've been acting way weirder than usual-"
"I do not act weird, Draco Malfoy!"
"-one minute you're trying to hide a stupid, dopey smile and the next you look like you're worried you're about to be attacked any second. What the fuck?" he finished haughtily, ignoring her interruption entirely.
Pansy sighed, she'd been fairly certain she'd hidden the smiles that had kept creeping up on her, tugging at the corners of her mouth, fairly well. Not well enough, clearly. The witch continued to stare into her tumbler as the liquor inside swirled with the slight wrist action she had began. Pansy watched the liquid intently, before her mind switched to another scene entirely, a scene that a mere four hours earlier had been an emotional whirlwind, and Pansy wasn't at all sure if she felt relief, or more confusion.
At first, he did nothing more than hold her. His arms held her in a lock of warmth whilst his chest provided a surface of quiet relief. Somehow, in this shitty world they now existed in, he understood, and he genuinely seemed to care about what happened to her. Pansy could barely even register the words he'd said, but one truth was racing about at the forefront of her mind, between the sheer terror that was the reasoning behind her sobs; he feels the same way about me. She'd known of course, she knew he felt something. He hadn't exactly been subtle in the way he'd almost kissed her, sent her notes, or brushed her hair away from her face in the library, but to have it affirmed, in his own words, to know for sure that maybe, the thing she so badly wanted to fight for, wanted to fight for her, too, was in that moment as though a thousand weights had been somehow lifted.
One of Neville's hands began to move upwards and Pansy felt it stroking her dark hair softly. He didn't speak until, after what felt like an age, she was able to regain control of her emotions, at least outwardly so.
Swallowing, she took a small step backwards, looking up into Neville's face as she felt his hand leave her hair, both of her upper arms receiving a small squeeze, before Neville, looking rather reluctant about doing so, lowered his arms to his sides. The comfort she'd overwhelmingly felt whilst his arms were around her, although she still felt deeply grateful for his actions, was rapidly melting into a blunt embarrassment. Finding herself attempting to form a coherent sentence, a task that was made inherently more difficult due to the fact that her brain was nothing more than a dead weight of mush right now, Pansy didn't have a clue how to properly form her words.
"I..I don't...I'm sorry…" she trailed off, feeling her face redden with warmth. Looking down, Pansy wasn't sure how she'd ever meet Neville's eyes again.
"Don't be sorry." His voice was soft, and honest, so much so that Pansy took a deep breath and forced her gaze upwards; his brow was furrowed within his intense expression and Pansy fought back the tears that were now threatening to reemerge.
She watched as he swallowed, before he spoke next, "Please, don't be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for."
"Longbottom, you don't understand-"
He cut her off, his tone changing slightly as the seriousness of the subject came forth. "I do understand Pansy. More than you think. I know I'm in danger, I know you're in danger. I know the Carrows would probably love the chance to torture me a million times more than Alecto already has. I know that," he gestured to the space between them, as Pansy found her breath was somewhat irregular. She couldn't tear her eyes from his face as he spoke, "whatever this is, is a massive risk, so much of a risk that I hate myself for not staying away from you, like I know I should. But I also know that, from the second I looked at you on the Hogwarts Express, something had changed. You weren't the same Pansy Parkinson I remembered and I have no idea why. That day, it almost felt like I could forget the whole world. I've told you my deepest secret and I want to tell you a hundred more secrets, and hear all of yours. I want...no, I need to protect you, but I really, really don't want to have to stay away from you to do that. I haven't the faintest idea why I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since the first day back, or why I can't stop..." he paused again, and this time he was the one that looked down, avoiding her eyes. He swallowed hard, before closing his eyes for a brief moment, as though psyching himself up to continue, "wanting you."
Pansy's thoughts were blank as she attempted, fruitlessly, to properly process his words. He wanted her. He'd flat out told her that he wanted her. Neville Longbottom wanted Pansy Parkinson, and Pansy Parkinson knew she wanted him right back. She dared herself to look at him, her breath, not for the first time that evening, was doing something unbeknownst to her, entirely of its own volition.
She had to say something, she knew that much. Forcing herself to swallow hard, Pansy opened her mouth, breathing hard, before a sharp intake of breath was drawn from both their mouths. A loud voice, accompanied by an even louder voice, was clearly walking down the corridor the room they were currently occupying lay in.
Carrows. Both. Male and female. Amycus and Alecto. Approaching fast. Shit.
Pansy felt something grab her arm and swivelling her head around, she realised Neville was gripping her gently. She watched as he brought his right hand up to his face and placed a long index finger vertically over his mouth, signalling that she remain quiet. Really, Longbottom? Because, of course, I'd been planning to start blaring out the National Anthem.
The voices of Amycus and Alecto rapidly crescendoed as the two Death Eaters came nearer to the door that concealed the hidden pair. It became obvious that they hadn't paid the room any attention, clearly having walked straight past if the volume and direction of their voices could be believed and both Pansy and Neville let out a long, collective breath. Thank fuck.
At that moment, Pansy remembered all of a sudden that her friends were awaiting her in the Slytherin common room. "I have to go," she heard herself blurt out, blushing as she realised the harshness of her tone. "I mean, my friends, they're waiting for me."
"Yeah," Neville awkwardly scratched the back of his head, "mine too, actually. I'll, err, see you around?" His expression hopeful as his eyes pleaded with her, and Pansy as much as she wanted to keep up her pretense, well, it's all but completely shattered now, couldn't help a small smile appear on her lips. Draco's words repeated themselves over in her mind, Go have fun, as she breathed her answer. "Well, we do have a patrol together, on the 24th," she said quietly, noting the smile that crept onto Neville's face as she did.
Pansy sighed deeply, before meeting Draco's grey eyes across the living room. "You can probably guess who it involves," she began, knowing at this point that Draco was the biggest ally she had and one of her best friends; she had no want to lie to him and so she told him most everything. Well, Draco doesn't need to know how he said he wanted me.
"So, what are you going to do?" Draco probed, his expression and tone were unreadable.
"What would you do?"
"Well, I think you're pretty much in deep either way, Pans. Honestly, I'd do what I fucking told you to do, you stubborn wench; I'd go have some fucking fun. Fuck the Carrows and all their bullshit. They're watching the Gryffindors more closely? Who gives a fuck? You and Longbottom are smarter than those two walking sacks of hippogriff shit. Go. Be. Fucking. Happy." Pausing to down his firewhisky in one, smooth gulp, Draco added, pointing his finger at her, a far more serious tone overcoming his unrevealing expression. "Just don't get caught."
The following week saw the castle darken even more. The autumn feel that had resided in the air was definitely cooling; Pansy even found herself shivering inside the corridors,something she couldn't remember having experienced before, and wondered, not for the first time, if the castle's magic somehow felt a disdainful gloominess at the current way in which it was being managed.
Lessons with the Carrows had intensified. After the disastrous Muggle Studies first class, several more students had now suffered the Cruciatus Curse at the wand of Alecto Carrow. Pansy could scarcely remember hating anyone more. Their Dark Arts classes, led by Amycus, were perhaps slightly less eventful. Amycus had, thus far, not actually cursed any of the students, something which surprised and relieved Pansy, although his job now entailed teaching the entire student body about dark hexes, potions, and artifacts. He, at least, didn't seem to possess quite the same desire to physically harm the young witches and wizards.
In one such Muggle Studies classes, Alecto had began to read aloud from the My Undertaking book they had been presented with at the start of their first class. From what Pansy had learned from the couple of times she'd flicked through the book it simply contained more, albeit cleverly worded, in depth propaganda, in a similar vein to the dozens of posters the Carrows had decorated their office and classrooms in. Pansy was grateful that Daphne, Millicent, Blaise and Theo - and if the passing whisperings were to be believed, the majority of the students - had simply not fallen for the brainwashing attempts laid out by the twin Death Eaters. There were exceptions, Pansy and Draco, who of course everyone believed to be loyal followers of Voldemort, were constantly sought out by random students; primarily Slytherins, though surprisingly enough they had now been accosted by a few rogue Ravenclaws who clearly favoured the Dark Lord's plans.
Draco and Pansy had developed a sure fire strategy to get the majority of these students to leave them alone after one, quick visit.
"Before you can cast any curse with any degree of surety," Draco was explaining to a skinny, rat-looking boy. He looked no other than fourteen and he had somehow embroidered a Dark Mark patch onto his green and silver tie; Pansy had looked at it, trying to keep the horror from her face.
Swallowing, the witch turned her attention to Draco, who was continuing, "You need to be able to take them first, so what will it be? Cruciatus? Bit steep for your first...Hmmm... I do a pretty mean stinging hex?" The boy's eyes widened as he mentally weighed up his options, mumbling something Pansy couldn't quite make out, yet sounded coincidently similar to perhaps next time.
Draco and Pansy watched the boy hurriedly walk away from the Head Boy and Girl. Pansy gave her head a small shake, turning back to Draco. "They really want to sign up, don't they? Fucking hell, I told you about that second year last week, didn't I? Started talking about taking the Mark and everything."
Draco scoffed. "I'm fairly certain if I'd been given it at twelve years old, I'd be dead." Pansy watched as he absent-mindedly rubbed his left forearm as he spoke. Pansy had now seen Draco's Dark Mark a number of times. It no longer phased her in the way it once did, but the thought of a child as young as twelve actively thinking that they wanted to obtain the tattoo, so strongly laced with Dark Magic, made her blood run cold.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Draco breathed, his expression darkening. Pansy followed his gaze with her own and let out an audible groan just loud enough for her friend to hear. Crabbe and Goyle were approaching; both big, both surly, and both wearing the exact same dumb expression they were famed for. Luckily, the pair failed to notice them. Pansy had informed Draco of the scene her and Neville had witnessed at the lake, and Draco, just like Pansy, no longer held any desire to exchange niceties with his once-friends.
In a strange and disturbing turn of irony, if there were any two students that were actually excelling in the pantomime that was the lessons the Carrows' taught, it would be the two of them. Neither Crabbe or Goyle had performed well in any class they'd taken at Hogwarts thus far. It was a mystery how any of them managed to pass the end of year exams every June and yet, for the first time in any of their education, they were participating in class debates, taking a multitude of notes, and begging for the chance to earn a better grade by doing extra work, only, unluckily for them, neither Carrow had been particularly interested in essay writing, or other academic assignments. Pansy and Draco had figured this was probably due to their laziness in regards to the abundance of marking they would have to do, and yet, for some inexplicable reason Crabbe and Goyle had worked tirelessly writing essays they set themselves, which included tiles such as; A Hundred Reasons Pure Blood is the Only Blood, and, How to Properly Brew a Rudimentary Body Potion. The two had now almost entirely distanced themselves from the other seventh-year Slytherins, not that any of the rest were complaining about this.
Daphne and Blaise continued to spend the majority of their time together, Pansy was incredibly pleased for her best friend and listened earnestly as Daphne explained how she and Millicent had moved Blaise and Theo into their dormitory, and Crabbe and Goyle had remained alone in the boy's dorm, an arrangement which seemed to suit all parties. Theo and Millicent, it transpired, were tiptoeing around the fact that, according to Daphne, they clearly want to bone.
"I think Millie's feeling a bit...conflicted," Daphne had stated one afternoon. "Her parents have openly supported You-Know-Who, and it's not like it is for you, because she actually likes her parents."
"Pans," Draco turned as he spoke, breaking Pansy's concentration from her contemplations, to face the raven haired witch after a quick, expert glance of his surroundings. "I think we need to start working on something, we're not going to be able to put off Crucio-ing for much longer."
"Is this what you mentioned before? Something about nonverbal?"
Draco nodded, his face poised, clearly deep in thought. "Not here," he beckoned, nodding in the direction behind them, along a first floor corridor. "Library, I think I know what book we'll need."
Severus Snape addressed the sixth year class as Pansy shot her boyfriend a sideways glance as their professor spoke. "What is the advantage of a nonverbal spell?"
Well that's obvious, so the person you're doing the spell on doesn't know what you're going to do, Pansy thought to herself. Her left arm twitched as she made to raise it in the air to answer the question, until-
"Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you are about to perform, which gives you a split-second advantage."
Of course. Pansy rolled her eyes. At least this Professor was never impressed with Granger's incessant need to answer every single question presented to every single class she was in.
The lesson itself had been one of their year's most humorous, for no reason other than the expressions her classmates wore as they attempted to disarm their opponent. Pansy looked across at Daphne, willing her wand to carry out her desired spell.
Come on! Expelliarmus! EXPELLIARMUS!
Daphne's wand left her hand with a surprised yelp from the blonde. It hadn't gone far, but Pansy had done it, she'd done what she was sure no one else in the class had managed. The dark haired sixth year looked around, a smile upon her face at her achievement, hoping to seek out Professor Snape, until...
"Hermione did it!"
"Nice one, Hermione!"
"Of course you'd do it first Hermione, that was amazing!"
The ring of the school bell rang through a bitter Pansy as she stomped to her bag and began to pack up her notes, an encouraging Daphne following behind. "You should tell Professor Snape," Daphne began, "you did it before Granger."
"It's fine, like anyone would believe that anyway."
"But it's the truth!"
"I know," Pansy answered, dismayed. It had been nice to feel like she had managed something before her peers for once.
Fucking Granger.
Pansy watched as Draco retrieved several books from the library shelves. "These should do," he grunted. Pansy suppressed a small laugh as she watched him struggle under the weight of the heavy tomes.
"Here," Pansy offered, quickly levitating the pile. "Why the hell do we need so many?"
"Because I'm not sure how this is going to work."
"And what exactly is this?"
Draco quickly scanned the vicinity. They were in the Restricted Section which was deserted at the best of times, but Draco clearly wanted to take no chance of being overheard. He bent low, his mouth level with Pansy's right ear before whispering, "We're going to perfect nonverbally being able to make someone scream their fucking head off."
"We're...what?" It took a long second before realisation washed over her. "They'll think we can Crucio nonverbal!"
"Exactly."
"Draco, that's brilliant," Pansy said, truthfully.
"Brilliant happens to be my speciality, didn't you know?"
Vacating the library and returning to their rooms, both Pansy and Draco expressed small, smug smiles as they sat in their usual spaces before summoning Winky for some refreshments, and set to work putting their newest plan into motion.