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Part Two | Pain & Fire

Twenty-Seven. Trevor is Nobody

"That's the prefect schedules complete to the end of January," Pansy informed a bleary-eyed Draco, his response being one solitary, brief nod.

She raised her eyebrows, but did not retort, instead she shared a fleeting glance with Neville. The three were in Pansy and Draco's living room, in their usual positions; Draco slumped over his chair whilst the couple perched next to each other on the couch. A year ago she wouldn't have believed the new normality the three were developing, now, however, it was what Pansy found herself enjoying the most.

It had been a few weeks since Neville had stayed over, a feat he had managed twice, since, which was almost impressive, given the web of lies he was now weaving to his friends, so much so that Pansy had her own personal running joke of how Neville would have made a remarkable Slytherin.

It was, however, a truth that weighed heavily on both their minds that Neville's friends were not stupid, and they most definitely knew he was hiding something from them and they were both very aware that their secret currently existed on borrowed time.

"Don't know why you bother, no one gives a shit anymore," Draco slurred, after a several minute silence, his expression had, until then, been one of a mundane gloominess, now had traces of anger weaved into it.

"You alright, mate?" Neville queried, as another soundless glance was shared between him and Pansy.

Draco shrugged, and summoned his a nearby bottle of firewhisky. He drained the remainder of the bottle into his tumbler, and gulped the measure down in one, easy movement, "I'm fan-fucking-tastic Longbottom, cheers," he ended his mock-sentiment with a raise of his now empty glass, grimacing as he slouched back, resuming his earlier position.

"Maybe take it easy, Draco, you've been drinking harder than usual this week," Neville offered.

"And I suppose you'd know all about my drinking habits, wouldn't you Longbottom? Having been a part of my life for ten fucking minutes."

"Alright man, I was just saying-"

"Well you know what, you can stop just saying, because I couldn't give a toss what you've got to say."

"Draco!" Pansy interjected, a heat rising through her body that pooled into her cheeks, "there's no need, anyone could see you're drinking more than ever. Don't be a dick, you can't afford to lose friends, you've barely got any."

"It's a good job I don't need any then, isn't it?" Draco asked with a sneer, "just because you two can play happy families and pretend everything is perfect, doesn't mean we all can."

Neville opened his mouth to speak, but his comeback was nowhere near quick enough for Pansy, who had years more experience of vocal sparring with Draco than he had.

"Playing happy families," Pansy shrieked, suddenly realising she was on her feet, "you think that's what we're doing? Oh, that's rich, Draco, really fucking rich!"

"How so Pansy? Prey tell."

"Err, how about the fact you were the one who told me to go be fucking happy? Remember that?"

Draco snorted, tipping the bottle he still happened to be clutching upside down, as though the action could possibly make more of the spirit appear.

"Oh, nothing to say, as usual, the second I actually have a valid point you suddenly become a mute," Pansy raved, taking a few steady steps towards him, her right index finger pointed directly at his face, "you are a drunk, and you need to sort yourself out. You're going to drink yourself to death, you fucking idiot."

Both Draco and Neville rose simultaneously, Neville placing his left hand upon Pansy's right shoulder, his body unmoving as his right gripped his wand. Draco swayed slightly as he settled himself upright, before taking a few, pointed steps towards Pansy

"Shut up, Pansy."

A cold, mirthless laugh echoed from Pansy's mouth at his words. "When have I ever shut up?"

"I mean it, Pansy," his vice was cold, detached, but the still present slur was a constant reminder of his intoxicated state.

"Or what?"

"Just fucking shut up!"

"Enough!" Neville's voice cut through the argument like a knife, his body had twisted as Draco took his last step closer to Pansy, her eyes staring daggers into his.

"You don't want to do that, Longbottom."

"No, I don't. But I will, now back off," Neville's words were deliberate, and said slowly.

"Tell me, Longbottom, how does she taste? Like my leftovers?"

"Draco!"

But Pansy's furious cry was inaudible over the sound that Neville's fist made as it connected with Draco's nose, as the sickening crunch caused a silence to befall the three. The blow, combined with the fact that his drunken state had rendered his balance uneven, had knocked Draco onto the floor and a pair of bloodshot grey eyes looked skywards towards the two figures looming over him as he spat a small amount of blood from his mouth.

"Knocked on my arse by Longbottom," he muttered, before bursting into a bizarre fit of laughter, "fuck me, what a night."

Neville shook his head, staring down at Draco with a look of contempt, before offering his hand to the other wizard, which Draco accepted straight away.

"Don't help him!" Pansy cried, flummoxed by the action.

"Cheers, mate," Draco said, dabbing his nose.

Neville shot Pansy a quick glance over his shoulder, before turning back towards the still wobbly, blood stained Draco. "You owe my girlfriend an apology," he stated, "and just so you know, mate, if you ever refer to her as your leftovers again, I'll do a hell of a lot more than knock you on your arse."

"Sorry, Pans," Draco replied, elongating her nickname as he looked blearily over Neville's shoulder.

"Whatever, go to bed Draco."

"Alright," Draco relented, as he began the shaky walk to the stairs.

"Do you know what you need, Draco?" Pansy asked as she and Neville settled themselves back on the sofa.

"I have a feeling you're going to enlighten me," she heard him drawl in response, which was followed by a small bang and a muffled oof, presumably caused by Draco walking into part of the wall.

"You need to exert the energy you put into drinking, into getting fucking laid."

"You're probably not wrong there," he responded, closing the living room door behind him.

"Might make him more amenable," Pansy muttered dryly as Neville chuckled, snaking his arm around her shoulders, "he's just getting worse, I know this isn't him, hell you probably know this isn't him, but I don't have a clue what to do with him. Tell me what to do," she said, turning her head and nuzzling into Neville's chest, "have you ever had somebody that you felt, I don't know, responsible for, I suppose, but with no way to know how to make them, better? Happy?"

Neville had began to smooth Pansy's hair over her head as she spoke, and she felt his lips meet her forehead before he replied, "only Trevor, but that's hardly the same."

"Trevor?"

"Now, don't laugh."

"Oh Gods, who is Trevor?"

"Promise you won't laugh," he said as Pansy turned her body, a gleam in her eyes he had come to recognise, it was the expression she wore when she knew exactly what she wanted.

"Trevor is a plant, isn't he?" Pansy asked, outrightly ignoring his request.

"Right, I'm not telling you, Trevor is nobody."

"Tell me who Trevor is!" Pansy replied, indignantly, as she crawled, seductively, over Neville's form, settling herself on his lap, her body straddling his.

"You cannot," Neville began, turning his head furiously one way and then the other, as he purposefully avoided the kisses she was attempting to plant on his face, "use seduction...to get...your own way...in every-"

Triumphantly, Pansy cut him off as she pressed her lips into his. "Tell me who Trevor is," she whispered against his mouth.

"Trevor was my toad," Neville replied, disgruntled at his defeat, as Pansy sat up, "now, don't stop kissing me."

"A toad!?" Pansy cried.

Neville's hands were running through her hair, coaxing her upper body downwards, into him again. "You just compared Draco to a toad," she whispered, her words having a definite effect on them both as they stared at each other, neither moving nor speaking as both their bodies began to shake, and an intense laughter overtook their silent forms.

"Wait a minute," Pansy managed to utter once the majority of their laughter had diminished, "I remember your toad, you lost him on the train in first year!"

"I lost him at one point or another on every train journey, and at numerous times throughout every year."

"I think we might have laughed at you."

"Most people did," Neville replied honestly.

"Pansy had positioned herself so that she was on Neville's lap, and she ran one hand up his shirt, liking the way his small line of hair felt beneath her fingers, "I'm sorry," she whispered, pushing her face into his clothed chest.

Neville snorted. "I'll forgive you."

"What happened to him?"

"Who?"

"Your toad, you don't have him now?"

"Ah, no, he….he left."

"He left?" Pansy tried to keep her voice steady from laughter despite knowing her shoulders were beginning to shake.

"Don't laugh!"

"I'm not!" Pansy lied between barks of laughter.

"One day I found him at the lake, tried to get him to come back, but he looked at me, then jumped in. Thought about going after him but if I'm honest, he looked relieved, and then I was relieved and - Pansy, could you stop laughing for two minutes?"

"Your toad was relieved to be shot of you!" Pansy rocked ungracefully across Neville's knees as her whole body shook with hysterics, "it has given me an idea though," she added, still plagued with laughter.

"Hmmm?"

"Yes, but it's a surprise."

"Intriguing," Neville replied, and Pansy felt his hand make its way to land in her hair once more, using her head as leverage, he brought her face upwards, towards his and caught her lips with his own.

"No," Pansy said as they broke apart.

"No what?"

"I know that kiss, that's your I have to go kiss, and I refuse to accept it."

"I have to," he replied softly, repeating her own words back at her.

Pansy knew her darkened expression was similar to that of a child on the cusp of a tantrum, but found she had very little within herself to care about such details. "I don't want you to."

"I don't want me to either, I'll be able to stay more next week though, and it's Christmas"

Pansy allowed herself the smallest trace of a half-smile. "I'll hold you to that."

Pansy didn't see Neville again for the remainder of the day, or the entirety of the next two. She did, however, see Draco for almost all of that time, after he appeared the next day, still bleary-eyed, sheepish and far more apologetic than Pansy was used to. Not that it made much difference to the huff she was most definitely still in with the wizard.

"Longbottom must be rubbing off on me," he stated, wincing slightly as his hand grazed over the point that had connected with Neville's fist the night before, "all this bloody apologising isn't natural for me."

Having the restraint to not boot you in the face right now isn't natural for me, but hey, we all have to make sacrifices. "Oh, I know that."

"Oh Pans, come on. Longbottom forgave me," Draco said through a pained grimace as he pointed his wand towards his face, clearly attempting a rudimental healing charm, Winky having point black refused to aid in any healing, despite Draco's protests, of which there had been numerous as he argued that the House Elf should do as he demand, regardless, Winky simply walked away, entirely nonplussed at the Head Boy's frustrations.

"That's because Neville has a far too forgiving personality. I, unluckily for you, Draco Malfoy, do not."

"Fine," Draco replied, standing, "I'm going out, see you in a bit."

"I'm sure you will," Pansy replied tartly, refusing to look up from the book she was trying, and subsequently failing, to read.

It had been two hours since his departure when Draco returned, his face, although always pale, had taken on an ashen quality that Pansy hadn't seen in awhile, not since…

...last year.

"Why do you look like that?" she demanded.

Draco did not immediately answer, his posture was sharp, yet it had a forced, unnatural appearance, as though, despite his face seeming entirely calm, it was causing him a great deal of effort to stay poised. Pansy waited what felt like an age for his answer.

"It's done."

Pansy rose, unsteadily, to her feet. "What's done?"

"I just imperised the Carrows."

Oh crap. Pansy felt the palm of her hand hit her mouth, not realising she had been the one to fling it there at his words. Her answer was muffled through her hand when she spoke.

"Oh Gods, wha- what was it like?"

"Mostly just bloody weird, also sickening, and a little bit...pretty good," Draco answered honestly.

"I can't believe you'd risk that for me, you're an idiot."

Draco snorted. "I love you, too. There's something else, I overheard them talking beforehand, I think they're planning to spike all the Gryffindor food and drink with Veritaserum."

"Well, that's not good."

"Couldn't you just...stop them?"

"Theoretically, yes, but I don't want to force them into too much, it's risky enough as it is, and I can't guarantee that I know every Veritaserum plan they have going," he raised his hands, signalling she let him continue, as Pansy opened her mouth to answer him, "but, I do have a plan."

"I'm listening."

"I think it's time," Draco began, a small grin forming on his pale face, "that you, me and Theo partook in a bit of nuisance."

"Just like old times."

"Precisely."