Part One | Strike the Match
Eighteen. Something...Real
"Well, well, well. Someone is very dressed up for a simple patrol."
"Get out of my room," Pansy snapped at the smug reflection currently standing in her door frame.
"She needs to be dressed up!" an excited voice piped up from atop Pansy's bed. Daphne was presently lounging against two propped-up pillows, her hand outstretched resting on a third, where Winky was currently painting the blonde's fingernails.
"Daphne, shut up," Pansy retorted, this time directing her scowl towards the reflection of the beautiful blonde.
"I don't think that's true," Draco began, choosing to ignore Pansy completely. His attention entirely directed towards Daphne, he strode over to the bed and plonked himself down next to the witch. Leaning backwards, Draco propped himself up on his elbows. "Let's face it, Longbottom is probably just grateful someone has shown him any interest. She could probably show up wearing a burlap sack and he'd still want to fuck her."
You're such a mean arsehole.
"Well yes, I know that, but it's more the confidence boost for her, you know?"
I am here!
Pansy sighed, an exaggerated eye roll crossing her face as she went back to putting on her make up. Inwardly, she could scarcely deny to herself that she had a sense of excitement, even though she had no way to know how Neville himself was viewing their nightly duties that evening, but Pansy couldn't help but feel as though she was heading out on some kind of, dare she even think the word...date. This was absurd, of course. The threat the Carrows' posed was as great as ever, yet Pansy knew now that there wasn't much use in denying the way the two felt about each other. Considering she seemed unable to stop her emotions getting the better of her, having now exploded at the Gryffindor twice; once, ending with her sobbing into his chest, and almost kissing him twice. The majority of the student body kept her at a definite distance, far more so than ever before, and the Carrows' themselves even seemed to hold her in a strange sort of respectful demeanour. It turned out that Neville was, at present, the only person Pansy was unable to keep her mask in place for. The fear of what would happen if they were to be found out still gripped at Pansy, escalating her anxiety through the roof at the thought, and so she opted, whenever she could, to simply not think of it...or so she tried, anyway.
Draco was primarily interested in draining as much firewhisky as he could get his pale hands on. Occlumency practise after Occlumency practise, and perfecting the nonverbal screaming spell they'd ended up having to basically invent themselves kept her quite busy. Daphne was still Pansy's best friend, but between separate lessons, Pansy's Head Girl duties, and Draco's methodically planned extra work, they didn't seem to see each other often. Not to mention the fact the majority of Daphne's time was spent in the company of Blaise Zabini, and Pansy couldn't blame her for that, and in fact could hardly blame herself for wishing to spend some alone time with the one person who was actually responsible for a high percentage of the small amount of smiles that had escaped her recently.
The Herbology lesson that had followed their impromptu liaison in the storage room, and subsequently all Herbology lessons since, had made Pansy feel a very prominent something in the pit of her stomach. This was only amplified by the fleeting moments that Neville sneakily brushed his hand against Pansy's arm purposefully when he passed her, and the way he intently, yet briefly, stared deep into her eyes, when all other eyes in the greenhouse were focussed elsewhere.
In the other classes they shared, Neville acted no different towards her than he had any other year, with a stark indifference. Neither acted as though the other existed and slowly, over time, Herbology became a sort of haven for the two of them, where the small ghosts of smiles were welcomed and their shared looks weren't full of a false disregard.
"Pans, do your undies match?" Daphne asked, as nonchalantly as though she was enquiring about the weather, forcing Pansy's thought back to the present. Turning to face to bed, Pansy found herself first watching Draco, who had exploded in a fit of laughter at Daphne's question.
"Daphne!" Pansy cried, half in amusement, half in shock. She picked up a small purse and threw it at the blonde's head, eliciting a squeal from Daphne as she dodged its' path.
"What?!"
"I've missed you, blondie," Draco told her between laughs. He lied down completely, further back into the bed, his hands meeting beneath his blonde head. "This year is utter shit," he stated, simply.
"Agreed. And I've missed you too, Draco Malfoy!" She laughed before the three friends settled into a comfortable five minute, reminiscent silence.
"Where's Millie?" Pansy heard Draco ask.
"Oh, she and Theo had to," she raised her hands to the side of her head and air quoted the next word, "study."
"That's what all the kids are calling it these days, or so I hear," Draco snorted.
"I know, it's quite cute though, they were holding hands yesterday. But, seriously Pans, do your undies match?"
Pansy emerged from the Head Dorm a short while later. Daphne had vacated not long before, and Pansy had spent the remaining time with Draco. He had offered nothing but a few shots of whisky to help with Pansy's slight nerves, which she was relieved to realise were minimal in comparison to her mounting excitement.
She clip-clopped down the corridor; her heels were high and her skirt was short, though not too short; Daphne having pointed out that too short might scare Longbottom more than anything else.
The castle was primarily deserted, most students no longer opting to stay out any later than dinner anymore. Pansy met not a single soul as she moved quickly through the familiar halls. She spotted the top of the Grand Staircase upon turning a first floor corner, and felt her stomach clench as she approached the steps and the Entrance Hall. They were always the unofficial meeting point for whatever two Prefects were on patrol duty together and as she was finally able to look down the stairs, an awaiting Neville Longbottom appeared in her line of sight. Pansy hoped she didn't imagine the sharp intake of breath she was sure she saw him take as she descended the staircase.
He was wearing a fitted, deep gray long sleeved top and well fitting slim jeans and she unashamedly looked him up and down, which earned her an eyeroll and the same treatment back, finding herself rather enjoying the way his eyes lingered on her bare legs.
"What did I guess correctly that you liked; the day we went to the greenhouse?" he asked, oddly.
"What?" Pansy answered, wholly taken aback. "Autumn days, but...what the hell?"
"Just had to check," Neville laughed at her confusion. "You look like a dream. I had to check it was really you. Dark times, you know."
Pansy shot him a sideways smile. "I also called you a creep then, you remember?"
"I do, but then you also admitted you have no problem with my creeping."
"You're getting far too cocky, Longbottom."
"Where to, Head Girl?" he asked, ignoring her previous statement and perfectly raising one eyebrow.
My bed. "We can start with this floor. Once we're back here, we'll do the dungeons. Then go up the West stairs and do each floor from there." Also my bed.
Neville nodded slowly, "Lead the way."
"You're just saying that so you can check out my arse." A firewhisky-induced confidence was seeping over her as she began to sashay towards a nearby corridor. She heard Neville chuckle darkly behind her, though he made no effort to deny her statement.
The ground floor proved entirely empty. Most students were generally too fearful to wander around after dark now, after the first few instances of the Carrows catching those students out of bed resulted in a bout of the Cruciatus Curse. Prefect patrols were generally incredibly easy, and this suited Pansy and Neville fine, because it truly meant that for the first time since the library, they could actually talk.
"...seriously, it's faded a bit now, but it's actually bright fucking green." Pansy snorted, narrowing her eyes at a laughing Neville, who was insistent that Pansy un-glamour her black hair. "You'll have to get me drunk. That's how Daphne persuaded me to let her do it in the first place, though she didn't tell me she was doing it green, mind."
"Amazing, I can't believe I'm even thinking this, but Slytherins actually sound fun."
"Come to the dark side Longbottom," Pansy said, lowering her voice considerably, before adding, "we have whisky." She elongated the s in whisky into a hiss.
"I think I'm already halfway there."
"Lucky you," Pansy brightly winked at her companion.
"I'm definitely not complaining," Neville answered, and Pansy felt her cheeks warm slightly as she tried, and failed, to suppress an embarrassingly wide smile at his words.
"Tell me more," Neville said, as they approached the entrance to the dungeons.
Pansy deliberated. "What do you want to know?"
"Anything, everything."
"Well that narrows it down," Pansy snorted.
"Something...real." He was no longer laughing.
"Okay, look you were really honest with me, and I feel I sort of owe you that back, if that makes sense?"
"Sure."
"My childhood, it...wasn't great." Pansy took a deep breath as they began to navigate the corridors that lead to the Slytherin common room. Strangely enough even these were deserted. "My mum, she, sort of...hated me, still does."
"Hated you?"
Pansy shot him a glance, seeing the concern on his face illuminated in the dungeon torchlight. They made their way to the end of the corridor, nearing the West staircase, before Pansy began to speak again. "I'm pretty sure, yeah. If not she has a fucked up way of showing love. She...got angry...a lot. My dad wasn't around very much and so when she was pissed off, there was no one else for her to take it out on, I guess."
Pansy heard Neville swallow as he processed her words. She no longer felt the effects of the firewhisky as a familiar sadness washed over her, a sadness she was usually capable of burying without much effort. It had proved more difficult recently, however...
Stupid Draco, and his stupid Occlumency.
"Pansy, I shouldn't have asked. The last thing I wanted was for you to get upset. I've been...looking forward to this all day," he confessed.
They paused before beginning the climb up the West staircase, and Pansy turned to face him. "You don't have to be sorry, I chose to bring that up. I...I actually wanted to tell you, ever since you...ever since the library. I wanted you to know that I understand a...a little, about having a shit childhood at least."
Her face burned with a mixture of emotions Pansy didn't want to face.
Neville nodded. "I really appreciate you telling me," he said and she felt his hand on her arm, giving it an encouraging squeeze as he looked into her eyes. His hand left her arm and he opened them, widespread, before mumbling, "Come here."
And she did.
"I don't know what you do to me, Longbottom," Pansy said, her voice muffled against Neville's chest. "I'm a massive bitch remember, I don't do hugs," she said, relishing once more in the safety she felt contained within his arms.
"Even massive bitches need hugs, Pansy," his voice was full of mock seriousness.
"You're hilarious."
"I try. C'mon, let's go upstairs, I hate the dungeons," Neville said, and Pansy reluctantly stepped away from his hold of her.
"Aww, but I feel so at home down here," Pansy moaned as she alighted the stairs after him.
"I know, but at least you get to check out my arse this time, Parkinson."
"Well look at that, so I do," Pansy responded, not quite brave enough to admit, despite their flirty comradery, that she had, in fact, been checking out his arse from the moment he turned around.
The remainder of their patrol passed in a similar fashion, full of shared fears and stories, anecdotes and dreams. Pansy could scarcely remember a time she'd shared so much at once with anyone.
"...in hiding, I think. Nobody really knows anything," Neville was relaying. The pair were sitting in a small alcove, tucked away on the fifth floor, having decided to simply not bother with the rest of their duties. Neither particularly cared if anyone was out of bed. It seemed incredibly unlikely considering the deserted state of the parts of the castle they'd already walked through.
"I wish I could go into hiding," Pansy confessed, surprising even herself at her words, yet knowing they were the truth. She wondered fleetingly whether she should add, '...with you.'
Neville nodded. "It would certainly beat getting crucio'd every damn week."
Pansy swallowed. "I'm sorry you have to go through that, it must be hard…" she trailed off, knowing he wouldn't need her to spell her true sentiments out to him.
He paused, before looking around to meet her eyes. "It's not easy," he admitted. "Knowing it's the last thing they felt, before…" Pansy nodded slightly at his words, her eyes filling with tears at his confession.
"It is a little bit more bearable...knowing that you put shields up for me."
"It's not much, I know," Pansy said with a sigh. She deliberated with herself every week, after she learnt the truth of his personal history with the curse that was being inflicted upon him week in, week out. Much like the first Muggle Studies lesson, Pansy had found herself unable to do nothing and so had taken to casting weak, nonverbal shield charms around Neville. She couldn't allow a full shield, as this would repel the curse, but she knew it made it slightly easier for him to take the torture. "Any more and she'd know, I just wish I could-"
"Pansy, are you serious? The fact that you're willing to put so much on the line, to help me just that little bit, to make it a little better. You don't know what that means, I can't tell you how grateful I am."
She smiled up at him. His face, which she had began to see as rather physically appealing from the minute he entered the carriage on the train, now had a whole new effect on her. She still marvelled at how good looking he had become, of course, but now there was more; a perfected rigidity to his jaw, and a deep sorrow in his eyes that she was certain, or perhaps she merely hoped that, nobody else could see. There was real pain and sadness in Neville Longbottom and knowing, and seeing that, broke Pansy's heart almost every day. And yet, despite the hurt, she knew there was also hope, and light. She saw it in Herbology, in the ambition present in his eyes when Professor Sprout engaged him, and when Professor Flitwick commended his impressive spellwork. His Gryffindor fire was sometimes so close to the surface, she half expected his eyes to burn a deep red.
Their peers no longer regarded him in the way they once did, with mockery and pity. His abilities as a wizard had increased tenfold and his blatant defiance in the face of the Carrows' proved he was no longer one to be trifled with. In fact, Pansy highly doubted whether Neville Longbottom would ever give anyone reason to truly make fun of him again.
Pansy smiled at his words, but said nothing. Instead, she let her head fall to the side, feeling comfortable enough, yet still nervous at first, to rest her head on his shoulder. She felt him altogether stiffen at her advance before his whole body relaxed entirely, and she felt his head flop to the side, to rest atop hers. She felt his hand reach to hers, grasping it in his own as their fingers interlaced. Well, staying away from him has gone just swimmingly.
And there they sat, in the most comfortable silence they had shared yet. For an amount of unknown time that felt long, and over too soon all at once, Pansy felt Neville's head leave its position against hers, only to feel his lips press into her forehead. It was brief, chaste and not nearly enough. The pang she felt as he pulled away tugged a part of her deep inside that Neville had awoken, and thankfully, it seemed he had no intention of leaving it at the one quick kiss.
He planted an identical, fleeting brush of his lips further down her forehead, and this time Neville barely pulled away before planting a third kiss on her cheek. He simultaneously swiveled his body so he was facing her, giving him easier access to kiss her a fourth time; this time his mouth meeting the line of her jaw, to which Pansy, who was wondering if it was possible for her to actually explode with anticipation and want, and happiness. She heard herself emit the smallest of groans somewhere deep in her throat and gently threw her head backwards, which was met almost instantaneously by a strong hand that began to run its fingers through her long, black locks, massaging the back of her head. His mouth continued his trail of kisses along her jaw, at last softly grazing the very side of her mouth until she felt his hand tighten slightly on the back of her head. His grip guided her head smoothly so that her mouth finally, after weeks of wanting it, needing it, and unsuccessfully attempting to ignore it, and finally, she succumbed, pulling her body round so her torso met his. She threw her arms around his neck as she mimicked the movements that his hand had been doing through her hair, through his own as she bristled with desire. His other arm had wrapped around her waist, pulling her into him, his grip so tight she wondered if he thought she was going to pull away. Not a chance.
The kiss itself was easily the most passionate contact Pansy had experienced. Neville had started slowly, pressing his lips against hers gently, the light sensations tantalising and teasing until she insisted on more; more heat, more movement, which Neville was all too happy to oblige. His tongue eagerly met hers as she pulled his head as close to hers as she could, as he did the same to hers.
It was all at once intense, terrifying, romantic, and erotic. It was everything Pansy had hoped it could be, and a hundred times more of everything. Neville had lit a fire in Pansy she hadn't known existed and she craved to burn with him. All that she knew in that moment was that despite everything that should keep them apart, they were a perfect match, perfect somehow.
It may have been one minute, or fifty. Pansy had no knowledge of time passing. What she did know, when they finally broke apart, gasping for air, that it was not nearly enough. Thankfully, Neville seemed to have the exact same idea, pausing a second solely to stare into her eyes, where he seemed to tell her a thousand, unspoken truths. He linked his fingers with hers once more, and stood up, pulling her with him. Pansy swallowed, biting her bottom lip as she waited, still panting and desperate for more.
In one swift movement he pulled her into him, catching her face with his free hand and ran the pad of his thumb down her cheek. Planting one, agonisingly brief kiss on her lips before Pansy squealed in surprise upon feeling her back meet roughly with the cold stone of a nearby wall. Her face broke into a mischievous smile as she tugged on his hand. He left no time in following her unsaid command. Pansy sighed, as her arms found their way around his neck once more. Her hands resting through his short hair as his own hands pressed on either side of her face as his lips finally met hers once more.