.
Part Two | Pain & Fire
Twenty-Three. Where Would We Go?
Rabastan,
Due to Head Girl duties, I will be staying at Hogwarts for the Christmas holidays, and will be unable to see you on the 21st.
Pansy.
Looking up, Pansy twisted her head to the right, eyes searching skywards towards Draco's intense stare.
The blond wizard was currently standing reading her written words over her shoulder, and at her glance, he shot her a curt nod.
Sighing, Pansy inhaled deeply through her nose. Her eyes momentarily closed as she swallowed, her throat suddenly dry and her heart now racing at the thought and realisation of what she was now in the process of doing. She was lying to, and essentially defying, Rabastan Lestrange. Fuck.
She felt Draco's hands perch themselves atop each of her shoulders, before giving them both a quick, comforting squeeze, he turned and made his way toward the door that led to the stairs to their rooms.
"Night, Pans."
"Night," she replied, glancing briefly at the couch, where a snoring Theo was now taking up the entirety of the faded blue seat cushions. "I'm glad I won't have his head in the morning," she added, shaking her head slightly at the humorous sight that Theo made; his tousled dark hair resting gently against his forehead, his mouth a wide, gaping cavern, the one imperfection to his otherwise handsome appearance.
She watched him; the peaceful boy asleep on her couch. Theo was, in many ways, just like Pansy; their unfavourable family ties, which came with somewhat of an expectancy to fulfil a role neither could, nor would, properly commit to, alongside the bullshit nobility that existed solely because of what filled the line under which Last Name was written upon both their birth certificates.
Theo was another who was followed by a series of disdainful whispers wherever he went within the castle; although his were less cut and dry than either Pansy's or Draco's, and more filled with a mist of wonder - and in the case of a number of wayward females, hope. Although Pansy knew that this hope was far less a hope that Theo was not, in fact, a Death Eater, but moreso something of a depraved want to be the one to illicit him into stopping being a Death Eater; a fruitless endeavour, Pansy pondered.
Theodore Nott may appear the very image of aspiring follower of Voldemort. His cool, charismatic presentation, even when faced with watching the needless torture that currently filled the old castle, the never faltering strut he exhibited that easily put even Draco's to shame, and not to mention his flagrantly obvious dark family ties, but Pansy knew all too well that Theodore Nott was no more a Death Eater than the couch that he currently rested upon. In fact, what very little people knew, was that Theodore Nott was a kitten, a sad, and to put it frankly, maltreated kitten - who abhorred violence, be it physical or mental, against innocents. Where Draco had been pampered, Pansy ignored, and Daphne loved - Theo had been abused, and thus, in what may have destroyed one with lesser will, had given the scared, broken boy the tools in which he'd used to lock a part of himself away, instead leaving the cold, albeit cracked, shell of the Theo they had quickly grown to love. He was, of course, an expert in sarcasm, an outrageous flirt, and the joker who probably caused their small group the most annoyance, but he was theirs. As she looked at him, Pansy found herself hoping to hell that Millicent could find it within herself to defy that which she knew was wrong, despite the ties of her parents, so that she could be the one to fix him.
Just like Neville can fix me.
Draco snorted. "I'm hoping Winky decides to plump the couch cushions at half seven," he said, grinning wickedly.
Pansy laughed, before quickly turning her head to face the letter again. She and Draco had decided that Pansy would post it the next morning, early, thus getting the unpleasant task over and done with quickly.
"Go to bed," Draco instructed.
"I am," Pansy decided, rising quickly. "I'm knackered," she said, and as if her body had a wish to deliver clarification to her statement, she let out a big yawn.
"Longbottom tire you out, did he?" Draco asked, smirking.
Pansy rolled her eyes. "You'll never know."
"Like I'd want to," Draco responded with a scoff, before he added, "You could tell him," he nodded towards Theo's sleeping form.
"I know," Pansy said with a sigh, "it's just that, with Neville-"
"Ugh, don't call him that," Draco interjected, he was now leaning against the open door, a look of disgruntlement now present on his face.
"It's his name," Pansy remarked with a roll of her eyes.
"You know I have been more than supportive of you and...him, but that is where I draw the line."
"You're ridiculous, but fine, with Longbottom, fuck Draco I don't know how to describe it, I need to protect it or something."
"You need to protect Longbottom?"
"Not that exactly, I need to protect me and Longbottom."
Pansy expected the mocking retort that she no doubt entirely deserved. The words she had just spoken did not sound as though Pansy Parkinson should ever have uttered them, but the mocking did not arrive, instead Pansy was surprised to see Draco flash her a, albeit short lived, genuine smile.
"Merlin, Pans, what happened to you?"
Good question. "I haven't got a fucking clue," she answered honestly. "All I know is that Longbottom has a lot to answer for."
Draco laughed at her response. "He sure does, you sound like an absolute-"
"-don't you fucking dare-"
"Hufflepuff!" Draco concluded, victoriously, and dodged out the door to avoid Pansy's rapidly fired stinging hex. She narrowed her eyes as she listened to his laughter grow quieter the further he alighted up the staircase.
Dickhead.
Pansy awoke the following morning having had, surprisingly, a fairly lengthy and peaceful night's sleep. It was early, earlier than she'd intended anyway, and one glance at her bedside clock informed her that it was only just after eight, which, considering it was now Saturday, seemed heinously early.
She did, however, decide to get up, knowing that the longer she delayed the sending of the letter to Rabastan, the more anxious she would feel. At least once it had gone, it was gone, and she no longer had control over her decision.
Pansy dressed silently, pairing her favourite dress - a lacy, yet still casual black number - with opaque tights and her well-worn beloved, biker-style boots. She coated her eyes in a thick layer of coal, and coloured her lips a deep burgundy. Pansy stepped back from her mirror in order to examine as much of her reflection as she could, and despite the knot in her stomach at the reality of what the letter she was about to send represented, she forced her mind onto other things, and actually felt fairly positive - about her appearance, at least.
The walk to the West Tower of the castle, where the owlery was located, was deserted, and Pansy found herself climbing the final few steps of the tower relatively quickly.
Theo had still been snoring in exactly the same position they'd left him in, hours earlier, and Pansy, after repeating Draco's words from the previous night back to herself, decided that if Theo was still there once she returned, she would inform him of exactly who her current secret was, perhaps they could arrange something with Theo and Millicent. Merlin knows, they could all use the distraction that the teenage normality of going on some kind of double date provided, even if it only provided a very brief reprieve from the hellish nightmare that had become their reality.
The owlery was located at the very top of the tower, the entirely stone room was one that Pansy had never been overly interested in spending much time in, it was drafty at the best of times, but right now, with winter now definitely upon them, the room was downright cold. It wasn't an unpleasant chill, however, Pansy thought to herself as she alighted the last few steps, entering the cold, exposed area, her nose wrinkling slightly at the sight of a rather large rodent skeleton she was forced to dodge away from.
Pansy quickly located Ernest, Draco's large and domineering Eagle Owl, who looked at the witch with his trademark scowl. Pansy had never quite worked out how Ernest always seemed to perfect a disapproving expression so well, but nevertheless she had become used to whatever judgement the owl was constantly inflicting upon her.
Scanning the note to Rabastan once more, Pansy's breathing quickly attempting to become erratic as she did. She paused, forcing her lungs to drink in the cool air, of which there currently was an abundance of, and focussed her attention on the tying of the parchment to Ernest's leg, and brisk breeze that was battering her pale face, and...the footsteps. Who the bloody hell is coming up here at this time?
Pansy started, whoever the footsteps belonged to, was clearly approaching rapidly, no doubt a scared first year intent on getting themselves punished further by attempting to send a letter home at such an early time. Pansy shook her head, she knew it was no use, that there was always an Imperiused ministry official stationed in Hogsmeade, whose sole instruction consisted of summoning every owl that flew in and out of Hogwarts castle, and reading the correspondence they carried.
Pansy sighed, fumbling with the twine she was using to tie to note to Ernest's leg, all the while knowing that whoever was approaching, was doing so rapidly. The final result was shoddy, she could see that, the words -stan Lestran-, could be read up from Ernest's foot, and the knot, although secure, was messy. Pansy wrinkled her nose, examining the second rate job she'd done of attaching the letter, and signalled for Ernest to hop onto her forearm. The owl dug his claws in just a tad deeper than Pansy knew was necessary; her arm sank at the added weight of the owl. You fat arse, Ernest.
"I need this to go to Rabastan Lestrange, okay? They know who you are in the village, so you shouldn't be searched, and once you get there, give him a massive bite, will you?" Pansy snorted, picturing the scene, and then quickly changed her mind as she imagined Rabastan not taking too kindly to being bitten by a grumpy looking owl. "On second thought, maybe don't-,"
"Rabastan Lestrange?" A familiar voice rang out from behind Pansy, and her heart stopped at the realisation of just who the footsteps had belonged to. What are the bloody chances?
"Is this a joke?" Neville cried, clearly seething, as Pansy whirled around, horrorstruck.
"Oh Merlin, Neville, listen, it's not-"
"You're writing to Rabastan Lestrange, what the FUCK, Pansy?"
The words rang in the air as though they were reverberations from a cymbal. Neville very rarely swore, or shouted.
"I was wrong. I was totally, bloody wrong about you," he spat, and the words cut through Pansy like a blade, although her hurt was beginning to lace itself with annoyance.
Now just hang on a minute. "Excuse me?" Pansy haughtily replied, knowing full well that countering his tone was most likely not the best course of action to take, yet frankly not caring. "I happen to have a reputation-"
"Fuck your reputation! Rabastan Lestrange tortured my parents, Pansy, and here you are, casually writing to him like some pen pal, and all you can talk about is your reputation," he sneered the last word so venomously that if he weren't standing in front of her, Pansy would have swore the sound had never uttered itself from Neville's mouth.
"I know that!" Pansy cried. "But you won't let me finish, I can exp-"
"Explain? Oh, this should be good…"
Well, it might be, if you'd let me fucking talk!
"...please do explain, Pansy, why the girl i'm risking everything for, needs to write to my worst fucking enemy?"
"You're risking everything?! You haven't got a clue what risking everything means!" Pansy shrieked, knowing full well she'd regret the statement once their argument had settled.
"Oh, really? Because precious Pansy is the only one risking her neck, of course, everyone bow down the Queen Bi-"
The silence that resonated from the slap was one unlike Pansy had heard before. Time seemed to stand still, not for the first time in Neville's presence, but this was certainly the least enjoyable.
Well, shit.
"You hit me."
"I did."
Neville was panting heavily, his usually warm and comforting blue gaze was thunderous, and it killed Pansy to see. She watched him swallow, his mouth opened, and subsequently closed a good three times before he spoke.
"Please, tell me I wasn't wrong," he whispered, bringing his left hand up to rub his forehead, all malice aside.
"You weren't wrong."
"Then, why are you writing...to him?"
Pansy swallowed, knowing the she had purposefully hid her past encounters with his parent's torturers from Neville.
"Because he wants to meet me over Christmas; that note is declining his offer and informing him I have to stay here."
"Why on Earth does he want to meet you?"
"I don't know," Pansy answered, honestly. "But I doubt it's to go out for a cup of tea."
"Pansy," Neville rasped, his voice low.
"I know," her eyes filling with tears at her name.
"What if? What if he doesn't want to accept you declining his invitation?"
Pansy took a deep, steady breath, feeling, all of a sudden, as though the owlery floor was gradually spinning. "Draco says he'll find a way to get me out... so Rabastan can't find me." She said the words shakily, yet firmly.
Neville's eyebrows raised at her admission. He did not immediately speak, instead he crossed the three steps of ground separating the two, and softly wound his arms around her, encasing her in what was becoming her favourite place to be.
"If that has to happen," Neville whispered, huskily, into her ear, "where would we go?"
The two had left the owlery not long after their embrace, a few kisses, and rushed whispered apologies.
"Why are you here?" Pansy had asked, as they began the descent down the stairs from the tower.
"Huh?"
"In the owlery? Any owl you send would be searched, but I know you know that."
"I do."
"So, how come you came to the owlery?"
"Ah...I was...I come here on this date every year," Neville replied, and Pansy felt his hand creep into her own. Glancing over at his face she saw a number of furrowed parallel lines had appeared upon his forehead. "I do usually send something, but even though I couldn't today, it's a nice place...to think."
"Oh," Pansy said, not entirely sure what to make of his explanation.
"Today is...my mum's birthday."
Shit.
"Oh, Neville," Pansy said, her heart sinking as the realisation of how awful she'd been to him on what was clearly such a sentimental day. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
"You couldn't have known," he replied, returning the squeeze her hand had given him.
"I know but...Gods, you didn't need that. I slapped you for fucks sake!"
"You've got some force in that right arm of yours, my cheek is still stinging."
"Way to make me feel worse," she snorted. "Neville, I...I am sorry, about your mum, and…" she trailed off.
Neville stopped, pulling the hand that he had interlocked with Pansy's up to his face. He held it to his mouth, and planted a single kiss atop the back of her palm.
"I think she would like you," he said. "She was incredibly kind, but, I've heard she could be feisty, when she wanted."
"She sounds great," Pansy replied, honestly. "And fiesty is a great way to be," she added with a laugh. "I hope she would like me."
"Well, how could she not? You happen to make her son very happy."
Pansy looked briefly to the corridor leading to either side of them, before reaching up and pulling his head towards hers.
"Come for breakfast?" she asked, entirely sure she was not ready for their usual, hasty goodbye.
"Are you sure that would be okay?"
"Yeah, of course."
"Won't Malfoy mind?"
"You've been there before, drinking with us, remember?"
"I know, but that was before me and you properly... you know, happened, and I know you and he have a...personal history - I don't want to intrude on the bloke's living quarters too much."
Pansy stopped, mid-stride, scrutinising Neville with narrowed eyes. "How very Gryffindor of you," she quipped, mockingly.
"Comes with the territory," he replied with a nonchalant shrug.
"He's fine with it, in fact last night he said I was more than welcome to bring you back."
"That's good of him," Neville replied, as the pair began to continue their journey through the empty halls.
"His only condition was that we didn't shag in his chair," Pansy stated, matter-of-factly, smirking slightly at the coughing fit that was now erupting from Neville in response to her words.
"No way! No bloody way!" A hungover, yet suddenly excitable Theo was saying as he looked upon the face of Neville. "Longbottom?! Your secret boyfriend is Longbottom?"
"Take a seat," Pansy directed towards Neville, ignoring Theo. "Winky?" she summoned, as she and Neville each took a seat on the couch, her between Neville and Theo, and Neville leaning against one of the arms."
Winky appeared within seconds, a wide, sly smile appearing on her face at the sight of not one, but two extra faces to serve.
"Yes, Miss Pansy, Winky is pleased you called, would you be liking some breakfast, Miss?"
"Yes, thank you Wi-" Pansy began, until the small elf cut her off mid-word.
"Oooh, has Miss Pansy's mate been working up a big appetite, so early in the morning, Miss Pansy?" Winky asked, her eyes shining. At her words, both Theo and Neville let out simultaneous gasps, Theo's followed by a cackling of laughter, whilst Neville's with his second coughing fit of the morning.
"No, Winky, he has not, thank you very much," Pansy snapped.
"Ah, was you the one doing the working, Miss? Is that the reason for the grump in your tone, Miss Pansy?"
At this, Theo positively howled as Neville let out a series of embarrassed grunts, and Pansy glared at the elf. "Some breakfast, if you don't mind, Winky?"
"Not at all, not at all…" Winky replied, before busying herself towards the small kitchenette.
"Gods, I love that elf," Theo stated, happily. "So, Longbottom, how long have you been Pansy's mate, then?"
"Good Godric," Pansy heard Neville sigh from her left.
At that moment, the door Winky had departed through opened, and a bleary-eyed Draco emerged, rubbing the palm of his right hand into his left eye socket.
"Alright, mate?" Theo said, over his shoulder.
"Not too bad," Draco responded, before he clocked on to the third body currently occupying his couch. "Morning, Longbottom."
"Malfoy," Neville greeted. Pansy could feel him begin to relax, and she was momentarily taken aback to feel his arm reach around to rest gently upon her shoulders. She shuffled herself slightly, pressing into him, leaning her head back against his arm. An unnerving, and unusual feeling washed over her, which took her far longer than it would most to realise that the feeling may just be an odd, and no doubt short lived, contentment.