A/N Canon timeline divergence

.

Part Two | Pain & Fire

Thirty-Five. Need You To

Neville's eyes were narrowed, but his voice remained steady. "Who?" he asked, levelly.

"Dean Thomas," Pansy replied, her hands shaking as she clutched the parchment from Draco as tightly as she was able, "and Luna Lovegood...and, weirdly, a goblin, for some reason."

She watched as Neville's nostrils flared, his own fists were clenched, around nothing, and she could hear every one of his long breaths. "Fuck!" he yelled as his fingertips moved upwards to massage his temples.

"They're unharmed," Pansy quickly added in a hushed tone. "I'm sorry."

Nodding, Neville seemed to calm down slightly at the revelation that they were, at present, not hurt.

"That's...not all." Pansy let out a shaky breath as she quickly scanned Draco's words. "Oh...no, they've escaped."

"Dean and Luna?"

"And the goblin. Yeah, they...Merlin," Pansy exclaimed, not knowing whether to believe the words, despite knowing without a doubt they were Draco's, and Draco wouldn't lie, not about this, at a time like now. "Potter…Potter was there!"

"Harry's been there? At Draco's?" Neville's face was flushed, and his words were hurried, as though he couldn't get them out fast enough.

Pansy nodded, her heartbeat seemed to be racing as it boomed in her ears. "Potter, Weasley and Granger were captured by Snatchers, whatever that means, and brought to the Manor. Bella-" Pansy halted herself mid-word, her eyes flickering between the parchment and Neville, unsure whether to continue. Something somewhere between instinct and fear brought her right hand to her neck, where the protective shikkane sat. It hadn't protected Alice Longbottom from Bellatrix, Pansy knew.

"It's okay," Neville said, swallowing, and Pansy knew his words were entirely untrue. "You can say her name."

Pansy took a breath. "Bellatrix Lestrange...tortured Granger, but she's okay," she added hastily seeing Neville's eyes widen at her words. "Her and Weasley escaped with Potter, and somehow they took Dean and Luna with them. Dobby...Dobby? Does he mean the House-elf?"

Neville shrugged. "Must do."

"Well, Dobby helped them-"

"Good."

"But might have been stabbed as he apparated them away."

"Oh. Not so good..."

The final part of the letter held one piece of information, and one direction. Pansy's eyes closed as she sighed, in equal parts understanding and disappointment. "I knew she'd do this."

Neville was frowning. "Who?"

"I knew she wouldn't go with them. I saw it...I saw it the night before the holidays, in her eyes."

"That doesn't help."

"Millicent."

"Ah."

"She got on the train," Pansy relayed the information, "then wouldn't speak to Draco on the journey." She looked up at Neville. "She went home."

"She always did seem the most...conflicted," Neville stated, and Pansy nodded.

"I knew, she said...she told me how she didn't want her parents to get hurt...or, killed, or...I should've talked to her more."

She felt Neville's hands grip the side of her forearms. "She made her decision," he said, his voice gentle, but firm. "That was her choice to make, and she did. I doubt you could have changed it."

Looking down to read the final part of the note, Pansy looked up, her eyes meeting Neville's. "Draco's told us to wait until he gets back. He, the Dark...uh, You-Know-Who, is really mad that Potter escaped, obviously. He's sent people looking for Theo and Blaise. They're-they're being treated as traitors, to be killed on the spot. He wants us to wait til the heat goes off them for a while, and I need to make myself seen by the Carrows until the end of the holidays. He says that I-I can't be seen as anything but loyal right now."

"Okay." Pany's eyes snapped to Neville, his calm tone mimicked by his calm exterior. It unnerved her slightly, she certainly didn't feel calm.

"Okay?"

"We wait-"

"But, Theo and-"

"Theo and Blaise, and Daphne, will be fine, they can defend themselves, and You-Know-Who won't have a clue where to even start looking."

"That's...true," Pansy replied, hesitantly. "We can't even get a message to them, though. I really don't like this."

"No, I don't either."

"It's really…" Pansy trailed off.

"Real?"

"Yeah," she sniffed, and the relief she felt when his arms engulfed her was overwhelming. "It's real."

Neville kissed the side of her head. "Are you okay?" he whispered.

"Nope," Pansy answered, her voice as wobbly as her scattered thoughts were.

He pulled her even closer, and she couldn't have missed the way his voice hitched ever so slightly. "Me neither."

"I told you."

"Hmm?"

"Christmas is shit."

As it turned out, if they did their utmost to forget the content of Draco's letter, Christmas wasn't, as much as Pansy tried to swear it was, wholly shit.

Winky had come into the room a few minutes after they had finished reading, and had bossily ushered them through to the kitchen, the sight of which made Pansy gasp and Neville let out a low whistle.

Where the once old and dingy cupboard and urine-yellow walls had been, now the room had been enlarged, magically, and filled with an abundance of Christmas decorations, a beautifully embellished table, set for three, Pansy noticed with a slight chuckle, stood in the centre, a number of empty plates, dishes and glasses sat, waiting to be filled with Christmas dinner.

"Winky would very much like to sit with Miss Pansy, and Mr Neville, if Miss would grant it so?" The elf took a deep bow, and Pansy in spite of herself let out a quick laugh as she exchanged a look of amusement with Neville.

"Why do I feel like you'd just do it anyway, even if I said no?"

"Because Miss is most intelligent," Winky replied, brisky, and promptly rose back to standing, and moved to the nearest chair. Clapping her small hands together twice, Winky summoned an abundance of foods to appear, instantly, on the various plates and dishes.

"Wow, Winky," Neville's tone was one of admiration. "This looks great."

"Oh, it does Mr Neville, doesn't it?" Winky replied, not waiting for either Pansy or Neville to sit before beginning to tuck in.

"You know, Winky," Pansy began as she and Neville took the two remaining seats, "you are unlike any elf I've ever met."

"That's because Winky is one of a kind elf, Miss Pansy, oh yes she is."

The afternoon passed far faster than Pansy would have ever guessed it would, and before long, it was gone, replaced by a chilly but crisp evening, lit by starlight and looked over through the clearest of skies by a bright, crescent moon.

"It's snowing again," Neville observed. He was leaning partially against the edge of Pansy's desk, looking out of the window and over the grounds. Pansy herself, was lounging back against her pillows, eating yet another helping of Winky's trifle. The small elf, after one bowl of the pudding had promptly taken herself off for an early night.

"Ohh, I wanna see," Pansy replied as she placed the now empty bowl on her bedside table, and attempted, and then promptly failed, to get up from the bed. "Oof," she exclaimed, now face down on the top of the duvet.

From somewhere above her, Pansy heard a snort of laughter, and felt a pair of strong hands encase her arms, which let her torso upwards, until she was sitting upright once more.

"That's enough trifle for you," Neville said.

Pansy gasped at his words. "How dare you! I intend on having at least one bore mowlful."

"You're drunk."

Neville appeared to be swaying slightly. That's weird, Pansy thought to herself as her boyfriend moved from side to side. "I am not," she countered. "How can you even get drunk from trifle, that's just a twattish thing to suggest." For some reason, Pansy's words sounded funny as she spoke them.

"By it being made with, from the smell of it, a full bottle of sherry."

"Oh-hic, that's funny," Pansy replied with a laugh, as she, having quite forgotten about the snow, flopped herself back against the pillows once more. Opening and stretching out her arms, she smiled dopily up at Neville. "Hug me!"

And he did. Lowering himself onto the bed beside her, Pansy felt Neville's arms engulf her. "I'll always hug you, Pansy Parkinson."

"And I will sometimes let you," she quipped, or attempted to, finding it more difficult than she would like to be sassy when your words all seemed to tumble out as one. "Occasionally," although she wasn't entirely certain she'd said the word correctly. Not sure it's real word. Might be wrong.

"There she is."

Probably was wrong.

"Who?! Better not be-hic, another girl Neville Longbottom!"

"The Pansy I know, and fell in love with," he chuckled. "Even in this hell we call a school year, you make me incredibly happy, Pansy Parkinson."

"I do need you to do-hic, need that, though."

"What's that?"

"Need...need that."

His voice was a whisper close to her ear, and his words were separated by soft kisses along her temple. "What do you need?"

His teeth nipped her neck harder than usual as he wasted no time, and granted her not enough preparation, before thrusting into her.

"Agh! Draco!" her exclamation was drowned out by his groans, not that it mattered, for Pansy was entirely sure that Draco couldn't - or wouldn't, she wasn't entirely sure, hear her. He hardly ever did, but especially not in moments like these, when he'd spent the better part of five hours in the strange room she couldn't even fathom to understand, fixing the stupid vanishing cabinet she wished he would set fire to and never think of again.

Not that that was in any way possible, but she could dream. And dream she did.

"I want you," that's what he'd say when he came to her in the dead of night, climbing into her four poster not thinking enough to care about waking her, and kissing her whilst his sweat-drenched shirt was tugged from his too thin frame.

"I need you," was what she'd whisper whilst she held his shaking shoulders as she vanished each drop of vomit that spilled from his throat. "I need you back, I need my Draco."

"Do we? Do we still? Did we ever?" It was what he'd query as they sat, hands not quite touching but too close to mean anything platonic. Were they ever platonic? Pansy mused to herself countless times that year.

"Love?" she'd ask and he'd nod. "Right now, I want you, everyday," she replied, honestly, "and I'll never not need you." Pausing, she watching the stormy fuelled seas that hid themselves within the iris' of his eyes. "I do love you. But I don't think I'm in love with you, and I don't think you are with me, either."

She felt his hand reach the few mere centimetres to reach hers. And for once, in the ashes of the hell that was his sixth year at Hogwarts, he smiled. "I love you too, Pans."

"Maybe one day two idiots will fall in love with these," he gestured his free hand between them, "two idiots."

"Think I'm a lost cause, to be honest, but you," she felt his index finger gently poke her chest, "you're going to make some poor, undeserving twat really fucking happy, Pansy Parkinson."

"If I tell you something, do you promise not to laugh at me?"

"No."

"I sounds so anti-feminist and fucking ridiculous, but I think I need it." Draco raised his eyebrows, but didn't, to his credit, laugh. "Someone to fall in love with me."

"Fall in... Love...me, I need...I'll always-" Whether he responded or not, Pansy never knew, as unconsciousness began to overtake her intoxicated mind and exhausted body. "Need you to...love…"