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Part Three | Burn with Me
43. You Don't Have To Ask
She wouldn't have known which was louder had she cared to find out: the pounding of her heart or the pounding of her steps as she thundered up the stairs. Elation and desperation filled her heart in equal measure as she flew through the cottage.
And it was only when the familiar door, the door through which she knew she would find him, her him, was within her grasp, did she take the slightest of pauses as a brief yet overwhelming fear gripped her, not nearly enough to stop her from going to him, but enough still for a jumbled, panicked thought about what would happen were Neville to declare what had happened between Pansy and Rabastan was enough to put a stop to everything there was between Pansy and Neville. It was a fear, a mostly irrational one she often tried to tell herself, that would never come to fruition...she hoped.
But yet it lingered, unwanted and unwavering, even in the very moments where their reunion - the reunion they were both conscious to enjoy anyway, deserved to not be overshadowed by such a bleak negativity, it was still there, as though bubbling just below Pansy's surface.
She pushed the door ajar only a second or two after she stopped, far more out of breath than she really ought to have been from the unexpected sprint through the house, and, swallowing as the fluttering of what felt like a small, winged creature in her stomach intensified, Pansy stepped through the door.
Neville was lying, as he had since his arrival, atop the bed, legs still slightly apart and his arms by his sides. His face, however, usually serene and unworried in his unconscious state, was entirely different.
He's awake
The first thing she did was throw her hands to her mouth as unannounced tears pooled in her eyes.
He's awake
The first thing he did, was smile.
The tears, instead of dissipating and allowing her the time to reacquaint herself with her boyfriend - time Pansy felt the universe really ought to have owed her, continued to appear and fall with, if anything, a steadily increasing rate.
Without much thought to the action, Pansy crossed the small room with her hands still firmly clamped over her mouth as she cried silently, drinking in the very sight of him - awake him, over and over. It was a sight she hadn't quite realised she had feared she'd never see again, and now that she was, it was an entirely overwhelming - for a number of both complicated and simple reasons.
Upon reaching the bed, Pansy wasted no time in sinking onto it, she still didn't speak, and neither did he but somehow, neither needed to. Pansy, once sitting next to Neville, realised he had sat up just enough to engulf her torso in his arms and pull her into him, onto him, and with the same impact as a crack of thunder, a feeling washed over her; a raw and powerful something that Pansy soon realised was the knowledge that somehow, even in the strange unfamiliarity of the cottage she was still anything but used to, in his arms she was home.
And home was where she stayed. Where they stayed, for hours.
It was far from the easiest conversation she'd had in her life, but it was possibly the most necessary, despite the hurt - not solely for herself and what she'd endured at Rabastan's hand, but for Neville, who had felt the force of his world ripped apart once before, due in part by the same hand.
She expected several interruptions as she recounted the tale, but he gave her none, and she expected disappointment on his part, perhaps even anger as she waited for him to roughly push her from him and retort how disgusted with the fact she was now tainted by the madman Neville already despised he was.
Neither of those things happened.
Instead, he held her tighter than he ever had, whispering words full of nothing but reassurances, and with no trace of disappointment, or anger, only concern, and love.
"I only went because the note said...it said he knew about you, and us, and he was going to-"
He cut her off, mid-sentence with a gentle yet pointed sshhh sound, and a soft kiss against her temple. Perhaps his unconscious state had been a blessing, because a few days ago the thought of even Neville touching her so intimately was slightly jarring as much as it pained her to even comprehend that Neville could make her feel anything less than amazing.
"I know you did, you brave, incredible soul."
"I thought you'd be so angry with me."
"I am angry," he replied, kissing her temple once more, "but not with you. Never with you."
She allowed the words to wash over her like a wave, and just like a wave they felt overwhelming and cleansing all at once. Everything, that's what they were; everything she had needed to hear.
They lay in silence for longer than necessary, or perhaps it was an entirely necessary length of time.
He's okay
The knowledge swam through her brain, repeating itself to her over and over. Never in her life had Pansy been more worried about anything than she had been about Neville since she and Draco had been summoned by the Carrows to the dungeons.
It felt like a lifetime ago.
A lifetime of worrying.
"I want…" Pansy trailed off, not entirely confident enough to say the words, no matter how true they were.
"Hmm?"
"I want to...k-kill him."
His reply altogether shocked her, and then entirely didn't. "I would too. But," he paused, "people like him, they're killers, they do bad things, bad things to good people. But we don't have to be, we don't have to be killers. We never have to be what he is."
Pansy, not for the first time, felt both entirely confident she could murder Rabastan Lestrange given half the chance, and positive she never could. "What if...I did?"
"Kill him?"
"Yeah. Would you...hate me, or..."
"No, I could never hate you. I'll never hate you, Pansy."
Once again, they fell into silence, the only sounds to her ears were the soft thump-thumping of Neville's heartbeat beneath her left ear.
He's okay
'Okay', was, in fact, a rather large exaggeration for Neville's awoken state. Pansy didn't miss the way he hissed in pain at almost every movement, nor did it escape her that she was most likely doing him more harm than good by relenting to his arms around her and lying on him. When she broached the subject, however, he only held her tighter still.
"You could never hurt me."
"Neville," she replied with a small sigh, "we both know that's not true."
"I'm a big tough Gryffindor," he said, as though that provided enough of an explanation.
Pansy smiled softly against his chest. "I missed you so much." And she had, more than she'd ever have thought possible.
At her words Pansy felt the soft brush of Neville's fingertips beneath her chin, nudging her face upwards. She relented, closing her eyes as her lips met his. It was brief and gentle, yet she knew conveyed so much of what both of them needed to say to the other.
Out of what felt like nowhere, Pansy felt the sudden movement of Neville's hand against her hip. It wasn't, shouldn't have been startling, and yet it was as the feel of someone very different's hands eluded her mind for a long second.
"Pansy?"
She must have sat up, yet she didn't remember doing so, for she found herself kneeling up just next to Neville.
At least her breathing, which was all of a sudden laboured, returned to normal fairly quickly.
I hate him
"I-I'm sorry."
I HATE him
Neville, with difficulty, propped himself up again. "I'm sorry, Pansy. I should never have...not that I meant...but I still should...been more mindful, you know."
She swallowed, determined, steadying her breaths to regularity before looking him in the eyes. "Can you sit up, properly?"
With a small succession of grunts, Neville did indeed manage to sit forward. "I'm so sorry," he repeated.
Shaking her head in reply, Pansy swallowed once again. "Never be sorry. Give me your hand."
And he did, he stared, unspeaking, as she took his left hand in both of her own and guided it, unwaveringly despite the slight increase in her heart rate again, back to the same place on her hip.
"Pansy, you don't have to-"
"I want to."
"You don't have to rush anything, or…" he trailed off, his blue eyes refusing to leave her face.
The corners of her mouth tugged upwards momentarily. "I know I don't."
Neville, not moving his hand from her hip, sat forward with some difficulty. "Can I put my other hand on the side of your face?"
The fact he felt he needed to ask pained her. "You don't have to ask."
"Pansy-"
"You don't have to ask."
Accepting her words, Neville placed his palm against her cheek, before bringing his face only a hairsbreadth closer to hers as he gently stroked her cheek.
"Kiss me," she breathed.
The brief furrowing of his brow told her he was probably a mere second away from asking if she was sure, until evidently, he thought better of it, and simply relented to her command.
An hour or so later, after several more kisses and even more filling in from Pansy, she and Neville emerged in the cosy living room, hand in hand and, on Pansy's part anyway, somewhat more relaxed than she had since arriving at the cottage.
A suddenly most-excited Theo was the first to greet Neville with a stark, "Oi, oi!" as he rushed to embrace the Gryffindor in an enveloping bear hug. Daphne followed suit, wrapping her arms around him as she informed the now rather bemused-looking Neville how ecstatic she was that he was okay. Blaise next offered a warm handshake and Draco stepped forward and thumped Neville on the side of the arm.
"Nice to see you awake, Longbottom," Draco stated.
"Thanks," Neville replied as he moved, shakily, towards a nearby sofa, "could you have imagined saying that six months ago, Draco?"
"Not a chance," Draco replied with a snort.
Millicent had remained the most quiet throughout, waiting until Neville was seated and as comfortable as he could be - a challenging feat considering he was still grimacing in pain with most of his movements, before approaching.
Pansy, now sitting beside Neville herself, watched Millicent intently.
"Neville I…" Millicent took a shaky breath before continuing. "I'm very sorry."
For a short moment that felt ten times longer than it actually was, Neville didn't reply. Pansy felt a brief squeeze of her hand, she had explained to Neville exactly what had occurred with Millicent and the altercation between the two friends, as well as the knowledge that without Millicent, Draco would have been unable to move Neville to safety. It had taken a lot for Pansy to forgive Millicent - whilst at the same time, it simultaneously hadn't taken much at all, with Millicent being one of her oldest and best friends. Neville, of course, couldn't say the same.
"Millicent, I-"
"Wait!" Millicent cut Neville off, mid-sentence. "I want you to know I regretted what I said straight away, I would never have wanted to cause you - or Pans, any harm, and I mean it when I say I'm sorry. I really do."
Millicent's eyes were wide and frantic. Neville's were the opposite. "I know you do."
"You do?"
"Of course," Neville replied, "these aren't exactly normal times we're living in. And Pansy told me how you helped Draco get me here. It's okay, honestly."
"Th-thank you, Neville."
"No need," Neville said warmly as he gave Pansy's hand a further squeeze.
The living room fell into silence, but a comfortable one. It took Theo, as was the usual, to break it.
"By the way, Neville mate, this is Narcissa - Draco's mum."
Neville's eyebrows nearly met his hairline as his head swivelled around to catch sight of the, until now, quiet extra somebody was sitting. "Oh, hello," he said with a short incline of his head.
"Neville Longbottom," Narcissa replied, the name clearly recognisable to the older witch. She mimicked his action, her face unreadable. "It is nice to meet you."
"Likewise," Neville said.
The others filled Pansy and Neville in on everything that had been said whilst she had been upstairs. According to Narcissa, Voldemort had become even more agitated than usual.
"I'm just glad the heat is off me and Blaise a bit," Theo relayed.
"Don't get complacent, Theodore, his attention is otherwise occupied, absolutely, but he's, if possible, more dangerous than ever before. If you're caught now, either of you," she nodded to Theo and Blaise in turn, "I don't think there will be the chance for you to even try and talk your way out of it. He'll kill you on sight," she added as though to emphasise her point.
"What do you think will happen now?" Draco asked.
"In a way, I'm glad you're away from there, Draco," Narcissa's hand grasped both her sons', but in another, I do not relish the thought of him finding out you're not there. Oh, it's impossible isn't it? I can't tell you what I don't know, but he keeps talking about that blasted castle like it's the end of the Earth!"
Draco's brow was furrowed. "Hogwarts?"
"Mmm, he says the word Hogwarts more than any other. And although I do not know any plans of his, nor do I know what it is Potter and his friends are doing at present, if anything, but I'd bet the entirety of the Malfoy fortune that if something is going to," she paused, gathering herself - though Pansy could still see the hysteria very much still present within Narcissa's eyes, "happen, it will be at Hogwarts. For some reason it is his be all and end all."
Narcissa retired back to the Manor shortly after She bid them goodbye, and good luck, with concern on her face and worry lines etched into the otherwise perfect skin of her face. "Be safe," Pansy heard her final, whispered goodbye to Draco, as she prepared to exit the cottage.
The departure of his mother had provided Draco with a new wave of disappointment, his inner conflict so entirely present upon his face it had, for the moment, entirely replaced his usual mask of nonchalance.
It was Neville, surprisingly, who spoke. "You okay, Draco?"
Draco, having sank back into a nearby armchair, did not raise his head from its bowed position. "Not really, mate."
Theo took the two steps it took for him to reach Draco's side and placed his hand on his friend's arm. "It's alright, she's safe man. You know she's safe."
At this, Draco's face met the his hands. "She's too good for all this," he said.
The others offered a collective agreement.
"Would it be terribly inappropriate for me to point out how impressive it is that your mum's hair stays so perfect, even at a time like this, Draco?" Daphne noted, and in the split second it took for Draco to raise his head and face Daphne, Pansy felt a sudden worry Draco was going to explode.
She needn't have worried. "Do you know who else is too good for all this?"
Daphne shook her head.
Draco let out an unexpected laugh. "You, blondie."
"Right back at you, babe."
"I think we're all too good for this, personally," Theo piped up. "Especially me."
"How dare you!" Pansy shot Theo a look of mock offense. "I'm the queen bitch of Slytherin, didn't you know?"
The exchange, it turned out, had been entirely what the group of runaways had needed. Secondarily however, according to Theo, to their need for a party.
At the mention of the word, the group exchanged a number of confused looks between each other. Could we? Pansy thought to herself, wondering whether it was inappropriate somehow, for them to contemplate having fun.
Slytherins, though, were perhaps the most easily influenced into potentially-inappropriately-timed parties, and although his House may have differed, Neville was, much to Pansy's surprise, very much in favour Theo's suggestion.
"Yes, Neville mate! Though probably best to avoid any breakdancing," Theo offered with a wink. "Let's get smashed!"
And get smashed, they did.
At some point after arriving, Theo, Daphne and Blaise had - whilst disguised, stocked the cottage with ample food and drinks from a nearby Muggle store, and there was more than enough, the others soon realised, to have several parties and still have enough alcohol left over for several New Years and one or two weddings.
They found a station on an old Muggle radio which was playing some I Love Rock n' Roll Top 30, and cleared the main area of the living room of furniture, pushing all the seats further back, creating a makeshift dance floor which, despite her initial protests, Pansy found - after her third beer, herself, Daphne Millicent and Theo throwing their heads up and down in time to Livin' on a Prayer. Draco, by his own - rather annoying if you asked Pansy, admission absolutely did not dance and was sitting watching the dancers with an amused expression, and Blaise was having what looked to be an in depth - yet apparently hysterical conversation with Neville - who may have found himself able to make his way downstairs but was far from strong enough to dance.
"Draco don't be a loser!" Theo bellowed, "come dance with me buddy!"
Draco rolled his eyes. "No, thank you, Theo."
"The only one with permission to be a boring bastard is my man," Theo enthusiastically pointed towards Neville, "Longbottom - and that's because if he danced he'd probably fucking keel over, you" he moved his gesture towards Draco, "have no excuse - fucking get up here, you prick! And you," this time Blaise was the object of Theo's pointed bellowing, "no excuse Zabini, get up here!"
Pansy watched with amusement as Draco exchanged an expression that was entirely raised eyebrows with Blaise, and relented to Theo's persistence. They gulped the remainder of their drinks and rose in unison as Theo roared, "YES!" and threw himself at both Draco and Blaise.
Waiting until the song - Here I Come Again, had finished, Pansy made her way off the homemade dance floor, and flopped herself down next to Neville.
"Don't stop on my account," he said, perfectly raising one eyebrow.
"I thought you might have been lonely."
Neville's voice held an amusing slur. "I was a tiny bit, but I was enjoying watching you."
"Perve."
He chuckled at her reply. "Only when it comes to you."
Pansy turned her head to face him, fighting her alcohol-induced urge to sit on top of him, and winked.
She heard Neville audibly groan before leaning into her and whispering, "And I thought your dancing was sexy."
She leaned forward, laughing, and simply pressed her lips to his in response.
The broke apart after far longer than she had anticipated, caring not that her friends were barely a few metres away from the couch they were sitting on.
She had missed kissing him almost as much as she'd missed him. And perhaps it had been her biggest fear, after Rabastan, that she'd somehow be too frightened to be intimate with Neville again. And in many ways she was, but - and it was a small grace she knew, Rabastan Lestrange may have broken a great many things in regards to Pansy's spirit, but they way she felt when Neville's lips moved in time with hers wasn't one of them.