Team: Holyhead Harpies
Position: Chaser 3
Prompt: Hands of Gold
Optional Prompts:
(pairing) a rare pair - Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson
(dialogue) "You stab them with the pointy end."
(relationship type) friends with benefits
Word count: 2898
Trigger warnings: SA, some casual murder, maybe a bit of one-sided love (since we have to warn for that now, apparently)
Prompt interpretation: It's mainly secret love with a hint of book inspo. From what I read, Hands of Gold was written about Tyrion Lannister and his secret girlfriend, from someone who found out about the relationship and blackmailed them. That same relationship ended with Tyrion murdering the lady. Also, added some altered lyrics in the end just to drive the point home
Hello, hello, hello! I haven't dragged my favourite babies through much hell lately and they were feeling a little neglected so I found this round as the perfect opportunity to ruin their lives once more.
All the beta thanks to my lovely Harpies: DobbyRocksSocks, owlwayssandforever and arcane illusions!
Pansy didn't remember her parents. She had a hazy picture in her head of two shadowy figures with faces too high to see, but that was all she had left of them. Her very first distinct memory was waking up one morning to the sound of horses galloping away, dragging with them a cart with all of their belongings.
She was left behind. A girl, and an ugly one at that, was a burden in their climate. They could have more children; Pansy was but a bad blip in their timeline.
Her parents were the first to underestimate her, the first in a long line of people she would prove wrong. But she did owe them one thing and she wasn't shy to admit it. If not for her parents, Pansy would have never learned that the only person who would look out for her was herself.
She had been taken in by a small band of thieves and used as a distraction. No one ever suspected the crying girl with clear signs of malnutrition to be part of some nefarious scheme. People were too predictable. That was the second lesson she ever learned: be smart enough to figure out your strengths and use them. She wasn't the strongest or the fastest but she had her innocent looks working for her and, as she grew up, her quiet footsteps, her agility, her nifty fingers that could empty someone's pockets before they blinked.
She was a good thief and she knew everyone recognised it – which was why she was confused when she got saddled with babysitting duties.
"What did you say was your name again?" she asked as she sharpened her dagger.
"Uh, Neville? It's, uh, it's nice to meet you, Pansy." The kid must have been around her age, though, by the softness of his face, he hadn't known this life for long. He looked like a cornered animal, sweating profusely and his eyes nervously jumping all over the place. "I mean, they told me your name, I didn't, I'm not some creep, I swear, I just—"
"Zip it." He was getting on her nerves already and he'd only been there for five minutes. "I don't care what you know or how you know it. First lesson, knowledge is power, don't ever show all your cards. And you'd better be writing this down if you have any hope of surviving in the streets."
The silence that followed was a blessing and Pansy went back to her work, taking extra care with all the grooves of the blade.
"Uh, what is that?" Ah, I knew it was too good to last.
"A knife. You know, for killing people? You stab them with the pointy end." She didn't even deign to look at him, secretly hoping that, if she ignored him for long enough, he would disappear.
"No, I-I know what a knife is, I meant—"
"I know what you meant. If you ask questions that make you look stupid, you're going to be treated like you're stupid." Pansy sighed as she returned the dagger to its sheath and got up, inching closer to inspect the boy. "Mad-Eye says you saved him from the guards."
Neville flushed and tilted his head down, but Pansy wasn't buying any of his humble act.
"Own it," she said, knocking his chin up with the butt of her dagger. "You earned the respect of one of the best thieves there is. Never be ashamed of your achievements."
The boy nodded and rolled his shoulders back, puffing his chest out in an admirable, albeit faked, display of pride. In doing so, he rose to his full height, well over a head above Pansy. Weak but broad shoulders, large hands, a stable core and long legs, ideal for running.
He'll need a lot of work but there's some potential there.
There was a mole in the Order.
It was the only thing that made sense. The guards couldn't have known when and where the ambush was staged unless someone told them. That's what I get for getting complacent.
"We just need to make it to the brothel," she yelled at the boy ahead of her. "Do you know the way?"
Neville faltered and Pansy could tell her question and the subject matter of their destination made him uncomfortable. "Oh for fuck's sake! Do you want to die in the dungeons, you idiot?!"
"Y-yeah, I know the way!" His voice carried in the wind but distance grew between them, his longer legs and bigger stride too much for Pansy's build. The boots of the guards could be heard turning the corner; they would be trapped in no time if they continued like this.
"Go! If I don't meet you there in fifteen minutes, use the secret tunnels. The Lady will show you how." Pansy didn't wait for a response, taking a sharp turn left and into the city market. Hopefully, she'd be able to lose them in the crowd.
Only, she took the wrong turn. Stupid babysitting duties. Even though Neville had been with them for a year now, he was still not ready to go out on his own, which meant Pansy always had to look out for him. And in doing so, lose track of the signs they had all over the city and take the wrong turn.
A dead end. No houses to break into, no tunnels, nothing to climb on. She was trapped. And the guards knew it too, because she heard the footsteps slow and stop behind her. She turned to look, scared of what she'd find. Thankfully, it was just two guards, rugged men with swords at their belts and spears in their hands, greedy eyes running all over her body. Maybe this is how I make it out alive.
Pansy was many things but a fool was not one of them. She knew what men wanted when they looked at a girl like that, even though she was barely fifteen and not one of those lookers at the brothel. No one had dared touch her, yet, but the other thieves noticed her a lot more as she grew.
Life was all about power and the transaction of it, and sex was nothing different. Maybe if she gave them her body, they would give her her life. The hand that was gripping the hilt of her dagger loosened and travelled up her chest, working slowly to unbutton her shirt while the other was raised up in the air in a sign of surrender.
The guards looked like they got the message, eagerly leaving their spears to the side and advancing on her like hunters ready to strike on their prey. Men are such filthy pigs.
They got close enough that she could feel their rancid breath on her skin and Pansy had to suppress a shudder; if this was to work she needed to look like she was enjoying it. She closed her eyes tight to distract herself, trying to figure out who the traitor was as hands grabbed her body and tore at her clothes.
It can't be Mad-Eye, he may be greedy but he was the one who taught me about the Code of Honour. Can't be Moony either, he was getting pissed at the tavern. The Prince was too busy at his lab, so who—
The hands fell from her body and a series of thuds echoed in the small alley, along with heavy breathing. Pansy opened one eye, confused to see Neville there, panting as if he'd just run a marathon. She opened the other one too, taking in the scene before her.
The guards were sprawled on the ground, limp and half-naked. Neville was standing over them with a boulder that had blood splattered on it. It didn't take long for her to put 2 and 2 together but it still didn't make sense.
"I told you to wait for me at the brothel!" Pancy exclaimed, hastily buttoning together whatever was left of her shirt. "Why won't you ever listen, you dumb oaf?"
"Are you kidding me right now?" Pansy was taken aback by his tone; Neville had never talked back to her, and especially not in such an aggressive manner. "I just saved your life!"
"My life was not in danger, it was something else they wanted, clearly!" She rolled her eyes as she brushed past him, ready to go home. "I gave you orders and you should have followed them, I was fine."
"You were not fine!" Neville grabbed her arm. His face was flushed but this time it was anger, clear as day in his stormy eyes. There was no sign of the shy, soft boy she'd come to know. "I couldn't just leave you behind, Pansy, they… they would have…!"
"Yeah, they would have, and then I would have come home." Now Pansy was furious. All her life she'd been treated like less than her peers because of her gender. She was a woman, weak, incapable. She hadn't let older, more experienced thieves treat her like this and she certainly wouldn't allow it from a newbie.
"I don't need a man to save me, I can take care of myself! I always have and I always will, so back off Neville!" She tried to shove him back to prove her point but Neville wouldn't budge, gripping her other arm as well and holding her still.
They stared each other down for what felt like forever, dark blue eyes clashing with forest green. Who stepped closer first, she couldn't tell, there was only the violent clashing of lips and teeth and hands that gripped tight.
This means nothing.
"Would it be that bad if this became more than 'stress relief'?"
Pansy was tired of having the same conversation again and again. Ever since the first time they got together, she'd told Neville it was a meaningless romp in the sheets, a way for both of them to blow off some steam when things got too tough. Sure, he was a decent bloke and he'd turned into a good friend but she couldn't take the risk of getting comfortable. She couldn't afford the weakness of caring for somebody.
But she'd always known he wanted more. Ever since that first day. He had always been too easy to read; she'd tried to train it out of him but even though he'd gotten better, she could always tell what was on his mind. Which was why she couldn't bear to look at him as she got dressed. She could see him in her mind's eye, sitting up on the small bed, sheets pooled at his waist, moonlight shining on his pale skin, shoulders shagging with dejection, eyes sad and tired.
"Do we need to go through this again Nev? We have a good thing going on, why ruin it?" She shrugged as she grabbed her faithful dagger from its place on the bedside table.
Strong arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her back on the bed, soft lips caressing her neck reverently. "Please, just stay a little longer?"
Why did he have to make it so tough each time? Pansy sighed as she untangled herself, righting her shirt before she headed for the door. "You know I can't. They can't see me coming out of your room. You know the rules. Intimate relationships within the clan are not allowed, we'll both be punished if we're lucky – executed if we're not."
She stole one glance at him as she closed the door behind her, taking a second to imprint his image in her mind. Something told her they wouldn't get many more times like this and she wanted to remember him, his strong calves, his slender waist, the dip of his hips, the muscles on his back that had emerged after all his time with the thieves, the strong shoulders.
The only thing left of the soft, innocent boy she'd met so long ago was his face. He'd lost the baby fat there too but it still betrayed his kind nature; the soft, blonde locks, the slight pout in his Cupid's bow, those baby blue eyes. Eyes that changed with his mood, bright like the sky when he was happy, stormy grey when he got angry, dark blue like the depths of the sea when he looked at her with all the love she'd never gotten. The same way they looked at her now, staring deep into her soul as if sensing her doubts and willing her to throw caution to the wind.
Something in them unsettled her and she shut the door quickly, feeling the need to escape. Their small, underground community was still fast asleep, the night eerily quiet as she tiptoed back to her room, on high alert up until the door shut behind her. Lately, she'd been feeling like eyes were on her at all times, and not in the same way Neville's eyes followed her whenever she entered the room. No, this feeling was danger, threatening, like doom was approaching on the horizon.
She tried to shake it off, willing the voice in her head yelling at her to watch her back to be quiet. But when the door locked behind her, the voice started screaming. Because there was a note innocently waiting on her bed, a note that would burst her perfect bubble.
I know your secret. Maybe the others will too.
I own you.
Peter Pettigrew. Filthy, filthy rat.
It hadn't taken long for Pansy to figure out Wormtail was the mole after he started blackmailing her. The fool had gotten cocky revealing himself to her, drunk with the power he held over her. And that pissed her off even more, the fact that she'd been foolish enough to let anyone know her most valued secret. Knowledge was power and she hadn't kept her cards close enough to her chest.
Which was what had brought her to this predicament. Working for Pettigrew made her feel filthy. He'd always been a weird one, clambering after the leadership like a dog hungry for scraps. She should have known the slimy little leech had some nefarious plans in the works. Of course he wouldn't be satisfied until he'd gotten a seat at the table. He'd always felt like the world owed him and this was only the start of him getting what he was owed.
Pansy needed to take away his power. She couldn't kill him, of course, not without exposing herself. All she could do was make his knowledge useless.
Neville was fast asleep next to her, arm thrown loosely around her waist. Loosely enough that she could slither out of bed without rousing him and tiptoe to his dresser, where she'd left her dagger. The only true ally she would ever have.
She gripped it tight as Neville snored softly behind her, willing herself to move. She knew what she had to do but it still hurt. Which, in turn, made her feel stupid. She was Pansy Parkinson, she was strong, she was independent, she took care of herself and she never let herself be the victim. This was no different; their trysts were a selfish decision on Pansy's part, it was fun while it lasted but it was time to move on.
I can't do it.
The realisation came out of nowhere but it rang clear in her conscience. She stood above the boy she'd come to trust with her life, count on for the toughest missions, dagger clutched desperately in her shaking hand.
Yes, you can. He is no one in the grand scheme of things.
Pansy raised her dagger high, steeling herself for what she had to do. If only things were different. If only I could tell you what you've always wanted to hear. Goodbye, Neville Longbottom.
She brought the dagger down to his chest.
It'd been so long with Pettigrew, Pansy had almost forgotten the whole ordeal. Almost. He'd gotten desperate once he found out his blackmail was null and desperation made him sloppy. It was barely two months after her last night with Neville that he'd been discovered and appropriately handled by the Order.
But the damage had already been done. Neville was still gone, and with him, Pansy's only semblance of normality.
Some days, she still felt like she caught a glimpse of him, towering over everyone else and watching her from afar. She wouldn't let herself be foolish again though, never again.
No, she would wait until she was certain. Until she found her old dagger buried underneath the loose stone by the fountain. It was only then that she would crawl away in the cover of the night, slithering around the city and to that alleyway from all those years ago. Where he would lift back his hood and look at her with those deep blue eyes, those eyes she thought of every time she looked at the sea. And then she would fall into his arms and for a brief moment, just a moment, all would be right in the world.
He could never come back, not without them both being dealt with like Pettigrew. That was all they got until things changed – if things changed. But Pansy was a greedy girl and she'd take what she could get. For he was her secret treasure, her shame and her bliss.