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Part Two | Pain & Fire

Twenty-Two. This One was a Thunderstorm

He tasted like apple pie, smelled like autumn days, and felt like heaven. The firm tenderness of his hands moved first over her back before scrunching their way through her hair and stroking their way down her neck to caress the side of her jaw. He ran his fingertips down the full length of her back, finally anchoring his palms at either side of her waist, forcing her even closer against him with a demanding, yet delicate grip.

Her own movements complimented his instantaneously. Her arms were already around his neck, but she locked them fully keeping him bound to her in an iron clad clinch, whilst allowing her midriff to be pulled into him even tighter.

It wasn't like the first time they had kissed; there was no tentative build-up, no moments of wondering when and if, there was simply an unexplainable, urgent need for her body to be against his, and for his mouth to be moving in time with hers. If their first kiss had been the gloriously warm, dreamlike haze that appeared in the height of summer, this one was the thunderstorm you watched with a thrill in the dead of the night - untamed and with an earthly rawness that encompassed absolutely everything in that moment.

Pansy became scarcely aware that Neville was shifting them. Whirling her to the right, he moved and positioned her with ease until she felt the edge of what she assumed was a table against the backs of her thighs, prompting her, for the first time, to somewhat reluctantly pull away from their kiss. Throwing her head backwards, Pansy placed her hands firmly, palms down, on the table and with a sly grin, quickly hopped up, her backside landing gently on the surface.

Widening the gap in her thighs so that the fabric of her skirt was stretched taut, Pansy placed both of her hands on either side of Neville's waist and guided him gently to make the two small steps it took for him to be, once again, at an optimal closeness to her. This time, she thought happily, as she wrapped her legs around the back of Neville's thighs, caging the Gryffindor to her, they were even more conveniently positioned.

Taking advantage of the new level of intimate proximity in which they were now positioned, Pansy and Neville both raised, and lowered, their heads to the others', respectively. Pansy's hands were comfortably placed around Neville's back, slightly up from his waist, and just a moment before their lips met once more, Neville's left hand connected with the back of Pansy's head, just above her neck. She felt him ball a handful of her hair in his fist, which he used to effortlessly guide her head towards his. His other hand landed on the side of her waist, the pad of his thumb gently tracing small circles over her shirt. His fingers dug in slightly, just enough for Pansy to be conscious of their presence, but not enough to cause pain, not that I'd have minded, she thought, grinning internally at her lustful want.

This kiss became a touch more reminiscent of their first, which was mostly down to Neville. Pansy was intent on losing herself in the same passionate thunderstorm as before, but Neville, apparently had other ideas. Whereas she would have forcefully crashed their lips together once more, Neville hesitated; using his grip on her hair to steady her head, he forced her to wait, mouth poised mere millimetres from hers, so close her bottom lip tickled slightly from the steady breaths that were escaping from his.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he breathed, before planting her with a single, lingering kiss.

"Yes," Pansy answered, huskily. Yes, she knew exactly what she did to him, because he elicited the same reactions, and wants, and needs in her. Her hands tightened on their position on his back, which caused an unexpected groan to radiate from him, and she felt him inch even closer to her, as he allowed her another solitary, agonising kiss. Oh, you tease.

"You make me feel like...I can barely breath," he whispered, before pressing his mouth on hers with such an unexpected pressure that Pansy was unable to stop herself from being the one to groan aloud this time. You make me feel the same.

Their lips began to slowly move as one; she used her hands to pull him into her so he was pressed into her upper body, with no room left to maneuver, they were as one. The hand that was still fisting her hair loosened its grip and pressed into the area where her neck met the base of her scalp. Whilst his other hand, which had until now remained on her side, joined its counterpart, and began rubbing the side of her neck, paying close attention to the spot directly behind Pansy's left earlobe.

Time became abstract, as did every semblance of reality. All Pansy was aware of was that she put everything she had into kissing him - all the good and bad, all the stress, worry, and pain. She was still bristling with desire of course, but now there was more, or perhaps less, because in that kiss, everything around her ceased to exist. In that moment, kissing him was all at once neither the sun nor the storm, but both; and every breeze, raindrop, and snowflake that existed in between.

Eventually, they broke apart gasping, breathless and intoxicated with the mere presence of each other. Neville pressed his forehead against Pansy's, and for a few moments neither spoke, no sound present save for the settling of their laboured breathing.

"Woah," Neville said, eventually, as the pads of his thumbs stroked the back of Pansy's neck gently.

"Yeah," Pansy breathed, her voice raspy. Even though she was technically sitting, the Slytherin was fairly sure that if she were to let her grip on Neville's back loosen, she would topple sideways. "Was I worth the wait?" she added, teasingly, once her breath her steadied to something close to a normal rhythm.

Pansy felt the soft feel of his lips against her forehead. "Of course you were," he murmured, his words obscured slightly due to a number of delicate kisses he was currently placing upon her skin.

"Mmmmm," Pansy wrapped her arms and legs around him tightly; losing herself in his sturdy frame and the soft, fluttery kisses he was still trailing over the top of her face.

"Pansy." She heard Neville say, a few moments later. "I'm going to have to get back."

"No," Pansy answered simply.

Neville chuckled dryly at her response. "I have to."

"What could you possibly need to get back to, it's Friday night," Pansy asked, a tad sharper than she had intended.

"A…meeting...like...thing,"

"A meeting-like-thing," Pansy repeated, pulling most of her torso back in order to bring him into her view. "Is that code for your little resistance fighting club?"

"Yeah," and Pansy was momentarily taken aback by his honesty. "Friday nights are kind of a big deal, and whilst you have no idea how much I've loved being here with you."

"I have some idea," Pansy quipped, smirking as she allowed her eyes to flicker briefly to Neville's crotch and back up to meet the blue of his eyes. She recalled how she had been very much able to feel just how much of a good time Neville was having during a rather large portion of their kissing.

He snorted. "But I've stayed too long already, I have no reason not to be there." He found each of her hands with his own, interlacing her fingers with his so that their palms were touching.

Pansy sighed, before eventually nodding in understanding. "I get it," she said.

He kissed her once more, it was lingering yet at the same time over far too soon. Pansy swallowed hard, knowing he was waiting for her cue to tell him to leave, and so with a heavy heart she forced herself to say the one word she would have paid a great deal of gold not to have to say at that moment. "Go."

Neville nodded and looked deep into her eyes before whispering a husky, "Goodnight." Turning to leave, she kept her right hand locked in his left and the pair crossed the empty classroom. Neville poked his head quickly out of the door, clearly assessing whether both directions were empty. He leaned into Pansy for one last, searing kiss, before disappearing from the room; an action she waited approximately one minute before replicating, dodging in the other direction, and began to make her way back to her dorm.

Pansy met no one on her journey back. She debated momentarily whether it would be worth making a detour to the dungeons to see Daphne and Millicent, or Theo, but from the numerous tellings that Pansy had been subjected to of Daphne and Blaise's sex life, and from what Pansy had come to understand of how Theo and Millicent were choosing to spend their evenings, as much as they, according to Daphne, were still denying their involvement to together, which, the more she thought of it, was particularly strange of Theo - and vowed to corner one of them soon to find out.

The dark-haired witch sighed and set off to her Friday night, which she was absolutely sure involved a half-drunk bottle of firewhisky, and Draco Malfoy. Probably better to not leave him on his own, anyway.

Pansy walked briskly, her mind was buzzing with the purity of her recent happiness. And still as ever, her always-present - albeit right now - endorphin-dampened, worries but mostly with an entirely frustrating, and the overwhelming constant rush of missing him, truly missing Neville.

Silently cursing Neville for daring to make her want him even more, Pansy arrived at the entrance to her rooms quicker than she had anticipated. The living room was dimly lit when she entered, and she was surprised to see, occupied; not just by a clearly intoxicated Draco, but by an equally intoxicated Theo.

"Pans!" Theo cried, his voice wobbly and his eyes, bloodshot. His arms had been flung open as he said her name, inviting her to him for a hug. Pansy sighed, shaking her head at the sight of her friend; Theo was lounging on her couch, his shaggy hair was scruffier than usual, and the dopey grin that was present on his handsome face was intoxicating.

Pansy laughed, before sinking down onto the sofa half next, and half on top of, Theo. She wasted no time in pressing herself into his torso, which, considering how downtrodden she had felt since she and Neville had parted ways not long before, turned out to be just what she needed.

"I miss this face," Theo slurred, elongating the last word as he scrunched Pansy's cheeks between his fingers.

"Ugh! Theo," Pansy snapped, her voice obscured from Theo's maddening grip, "get off my face!"

Theo dropped his hand, and wrapped it, along with his other arm, around Pansy once more. "Where've you been? He," Theo nodded his head sharply in Draco's direction, "wouldn't tell me, said it was 'Pansy's business.'" He snorted, air quoting the last two words.

"Well, that's because it is Pansy's business." Pansy shot Draco a look of gratitude. "Why are you so happy? Even drunk Theo isn't usually this happy," she continued, observing the grin that was once again plastered on Theo's face, grateful to steer the conversation away from her mysterious whereabouts.

Theo brought his right index finger up, and placed it vertically over his lips. "Can you keep a secret?" he asked.

"Obviously."

"I'm in love," Theo replied, simply.

So am I

"Oh?" Pansy answered, and Millicent's hopeful expression crossed her mind's eye. Theo had loved a lot of girls in their time at Hogwarts, but never once had Pansy ever heard him say the words in love together.

"Well, I'm very happy for you both," Pansy stated.

"You don't even know who it is!" Theo shot back, agast.

"Everyone knows who it is."

"Oh," Theo replied simply. "It's different this time," he swallowed, looking momentarily sober once more, "with Millie," he said her name with a remarkable amount of softness.

"Good, she deserves it," Pansy said. "Don't fuck it up, Theo."

"I'm trying. But, I wanted to talk to you."

Pansy's eyes widened a touch, why would Theo need to talk to her about Millicent? She shuffled in her seat, so that she could see Theo entirely. "Me?"

Theo's words were slurred but his eyes were steady as they bored into Pansy's. "She's...struggling."

"With?"

Theo's face dropped to his knees and his words, when they finally appeared, were whispered. "I don't think she thinks she can stand against her parents."

Pansy's eyes met Draco's momentarily. "Shit," she replied softly.

"Yeah, I don't really know how to...anytime I bring it up she kisses me and we…" he trailed off.

"Well, you could try and obtain some of what we sophisticated people called self control," Draco piped up.

Theo's face was now entirely within his hands, and he let out a muffled argh at Draco's words. Lifting his face only slightly, he replied, "I know mate, but she gets so fucking upset about it. She doesn't want to talk to me, she wants to forget and I can't blame her for that, I...I can't."

Pansy swallowed. "No, I can't either, really," her thoughts briefly lost in how much she relished being able to just forget in the moments she lost herself in Neville.

"Have you asked Daph to maybe talk to her?"

Theo looked up again, into Pansy's face. "I love Daph, I do," he began, "but she has as much tact as a hippogriff does when it decides it doesn't like Draco's face."

Pansy snorted, whilst Draco mumbled something about that bloody bird, and replied, "That's true," she said fondly. "I can speak to Mills."

Theo nodded, "Thanks Pans, I know she doesn't think it's the same for me, my dad is a Death Eater, there's no grey areas there, but her parents - they're not bad people, they're just choosing to support who they think will keep them alive, and she gets that. Hell, even I can understand it."

"I'm not sure I'll be much help then," Pansy sighed, and proceeded to tell Theo the story of how she had learnt her father had become a fully fledged Death-Eater.

"Shit," Theo replied.

"Yeah, shit, and I don't think I'd ever be one of them, well, no, I know I wouldn't, but if it wasn't for-" Pansy halted herself, mid-sentence.

"For what?" Theo's brow knitted together.

"Nothing."

"Not what…" Draco interjected, much to Pansy's annoyance and she glared daggers at Draco whilst attempting to ignore a very curious Theo.

"Then...who? Is this to do with where you were earlier? Were you with someone?"

"No one, nothing, shut up Theo!"

Theo spun his head around, his drunken gaze seeking out Draco. "Mate, who's Pans hooking up with?"

"Draco, I swear to Salazar, do not answer him!" Pansy rounded on Draco, still furious.

Draco smirked and shrugged. "You're going to have to get that out of her yourself."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Who are you hooking up with?"

"No one!"

Well, that's not entirely a lie.

Theo's characteristic grin was now firmly in place. "Go on," he said, changing tact and nudging Pansy cheekily. "Tell me."

"Nope."

"Pansy, you look parched," Theo said, his intention unashamedly clear. "Have some whisky."

"Nice try."

"What?" he replied, feigning a look of innocent indignation. "You look like you need a drink. Your hair's a mess; sex hair, if ever I saw it."

"You have to have sex to have sex hair," Pansy stated, dryly.

"Fine, fine, wildly-getting-off-with-someone hair, then."

Pansy narrowed her eyes at Theo, but did not dispute his accusation.

"Ah-ha!"

"I'm still not telling you who."

"You're just being a bitch because you aren't getting any of the real good stuff."

Pansy narrowed her eyes, taking it in turns to glare at both Draco and Theo, in turn as her thoughts drifting momentarily back to the moment Neville had said he had to leave. "Touche," she grumbled, summoning a nearby glass and taking a long drink, her still thunderous expression daring Draco or Theo to say anything more. Which, granted, neither did, until they both, after staring at each other for a good thirty seconds, burst out laughing.

Theo had fallen asleep not long after, his tousled hair flopping over his closed eyes as he emitted a loud, continuous train of snores. Pansy found herself awkwardly squashed at his feet.

"So," Draco said, and it worryingly showed the extent of his drinking habit that the amount that floored and knocked out Theo, had virtually no effect on Draco. Pansy frowned, promising herself that she'd try harder to get him to cut down. "You have a good time?"

"I did," Pansy answered, honestly. Her brow furrowed as she thought hard about how to approach the subject she needed to speak of.

"So then, why do you look so bloody miserable?"

"I need your advice."

"I refuse to give you tips on how to seduce Longbottom."

Shut up, you moron!

"Draco I...I need to get out of meeting Rabastan. You have to help me," she said, forcing her voice to stay level as she breathed deeply at the harsh plea resonating in her own words.

Draco sat forward in his chair, frowning. "The Lestranges don't fuck around," he said.

"I know," she replied, her voice quiet.

Draco did not speak for some time, his forehead had several horizontal lines rippling across it, and Pansy knew better than to disturb his delicate thought process. And so she waited, with Rabastan's words and Neville's touch chilling and comforting her, simultaneously.

"Okay," Draco said, finally. "You write him back, tell him you need to stay here over Christmas."

"That seems far too simple, he'll just ask the Carrows. Draco he could ask the Carrows any time, and then he'll know I've lied," Pansy's voice rose into a hysteria that was so uncharacteristic, that Draco looked momentarily alarmed.

"Pans, calm down. The Carrows will tell him the same damn thing."

"How in the bloody fuck-"

"I'm going to use the Imperius Curse on them."

"You are not!" Pansy cried, crushed at his words. "They'll fight it-"

"-they're really fucking stupid, Pansy, I'm fairly sure they couldn't fight a blast-ended skrewt."

"Someone will notice!"

"They won't. I'll just do it to make them say they're making you stay here, everything else, I'll just command them to act normally."

"Draco, that is really fucking risky."

"True."

"What if, you know, he, notices," Pansy asked, a shudder overcoming her at the prospect of Voldemort working out Draco's actions.

"There's a chance," Draco admitted, "but a small one, the Carrows aren't exactly respected. I'm pretty sure the whole reason they were sent here was to get them out of his hair, not that he has any," he added, the hint of a smirk was present on his pale face as he did. "And I'm fairly confident I can hide the memory enough in case he decides to poke around in my head," he added with a grumble.

"What if it doesn't work? What if Rabastan still demands to see me?"

Again, Draco did not immediately respond; instead he studied her, intently.

"Then I find a way to get you out of here, away to somewhere he won't be able to touch you."

"Draco..."

"Don't fight me on this, Pansy."

And, for one of the only times in her life, she didn't.