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Part One | Strike the Match
Nineteen. Trust a Gryffindor...
Pansy had felt a fair few regrets in her lifetime, but as she entered the head quarters later that evening, she was fairly certain, that the ending of the kisses she'd shared with Neville, despite the fact they'd done so for almost two hours, was high up on the list.
As the door closed behind her, she let out a sigh; full of equal parts yearning and fulfillment. She felt the side of her body thump against the nearby wall, and realised that she'd unintentionally flopped herself against it, as her brain attempted to recall every detail of the patrol she'd just finished.
Best. Patrol. Ever. Her head was still spinning from the realisation, Longbottom had kissed her. Really kissed her. No, pansy thought, even that wasn't apt enough a description. He'd set her on fire. Trust a Gryffindor to do that.
They'd stayed, pressed into the wall and each other, melded together in such a perfect partnership that Pansy could barely remember anything feeling more right; which was a slight oddity in itself, when everything considered, Neville was really, in fact, entirely wrong for her.
The clearing of a throat forced Pansy back into the present, wrenching her mind unceremoniously from the memory of the way Neville had kissed her.
"I thought you would have gone to bed," Pansy said aloud, wondering whether to call Winky for some food, or simply collapse onto her own cosy bed, and engulf herself with every tiny triviality of the last few hours. Her body made the decision for her really, emitting a low growl of hunger, and Pansy realised she hadn't actually eaten any dinner, opting instead to begin getting ready for the patrol. Clearly that was the right decision, Pansy smirked to herself, walking towards the sofa as she deliberated what she would like the elf to fetch her to eat. Slumping herself down onto the sofa, she turned her head to face the familiar pale face of Draco, who merely shrugged in response to her earlier spoken thought.
"Do you want some food?" Pansy asked, making herself really look at Draco for the first time in a few days. He had been getting visibly thinner since they arrived back at school, that much was obvious, but Pansy realised she'd been so caught up in the complicated emotional, risky web that was she and Longbottom, she had failed to really notice Draco's appearance. Which, she was fairly certain that during the day was less obvious, but here, where their only light was wall-mounted candles that graced the edges of all their rooms, Draco no longer looked skinny. She watched the shadows of the flames dance their way across the wizard's face, and realised that Draco looked ill, gaunt, and borderline malnourished.
He began to shake his head, raising his trademark whisky tumbler as he did. The action jolted Pansy's attention from the face of her friend, one of the people she cared most about in the world, and felt a strong surge of anger towards him. She didn't bother asking how much he'd drank tonight, knowing he'd just follow her question with another shrug. Instead, Pansy took matters into her own hands. If the evening she'd just had were to teach her anything was that Draco was, in fact, right. Pansy knew now that the happiness she could have, despite the odds against them all, was worth fighting for. And she also knew that it wasn't solely Neville that she needed to be responsible for her happiness. It was Daphne, Blaise, Millicent and Theo, and her rock - the one she trusted more than anyone in the world and the one who knew her inside out, that one was an integral part to any happiness she may be lucky enough to get. And that one was no use to her as a permanently drunk skeleton.
Pansy thought a very clear and precise, Accio glass, and failed to keep the smirk from her face as the tumbler flew from a surprised Draco's grasp as forcefully as if Pansy had spoken the spell out loud. Her nonverbal skills were becoming stronger and stronger, something Pansy was immensely proud of.
"What the-? Give tha' back!"
"No," Pansy said simply, before standing and striding defiantly towards the doorway that led to the rest of their quarters, hearing Draco mumble something to himself, grumpily. She reached the kitchen area and retrieved a mug from one of the cupboards, choosing the least old and chipped looking amongst the pitiful collection.
Calling for Winky, Pansy magically filled the mug with water, before making her way back to Draco, thrusting the mug into the hand she'd taken his glass from, still outstretched as though expecting her to gift him the alcohol back. No such luck.
"What the fuck is this?" Draco began, his words barely separate with his usual slur, but did not say anything further as Winky took that moment to appear, her large eyes blinking up to Pansy, then over at Draco's annoyed scowl.
"Ah, Winky would you sort us a hot meal please? I know it's late…" Pansy trailed off, suddenly feeling incredibly guilty she hadn't considered the late hour before calling the small elf to her service.
Winky however, had looked remarkably cheery at Pansy's request. "Of course, Miss," she squeaked, dropping her head into a slight bow, before disappearing Pansy was sure she heard the elf say, "Miss has worked up quite an appetite, obviously," before disappearing as quickly as she had arrived.
"I don' want a hot meal, Pans."
"Tough."
"Wha' do you mean, tough?" He was clearly abashed, even in his drunken state.
"I mean exactly that, you're going to eat a decent dinner Draco, before you disappear."
Draco scoffed, but thankfully didn't argue, which would have been altogether difficult considering his stomach had began to rumble the minute Winky had vanished.
"Drink your water," Pansy demanded, trying, and most likely failing, to sound kinder than she felt, which was primarily anger at Draco for not looking after himself, and also at herself, for not realising he needed her to do it for him sooner.
He glared at her, but obliged, downing the liquid in one. He glanced at her, before saying, "Oh, an owl came with a letter for you, it's over there." He pointed in the direction of the large desk which stood against the opposite wall from the couch.
Pansy paused before summoning the parchment, her breathing suddenly ragged as it flew into her waiting hand. She heard Draco say from her side something along the lines of everything being okay, but Pansy knew it wasn't. There was only one person she was expecting mail from. The same person who she'd found out, only a few weeks ago, had been directly involved in the torture and eventual permanent hospitalisation of the parents of the boy she'd spent all night with, who had laughed with, shared her secrets with, and who had kissed her with his everything.
End of Part One...