Forevermore

Pansy Parkinson was an aristocrat through and through. She had been brought up to believe from an early age that in the hierarchy of their world, she was on the top; one of the sacred twenty-eight. Her childhood had been filled with days of watching her mother conducting social events, dreaming of the day she too would be married to a pureblood and hold grand parties filled with important people. When she had turned 11, her parents had fought over where to send her for schooling. A compromise was reached – Pansy would attend Hogwarts and then be sent to France for finishing school. Carrying this knowledge, when Pansy had first arrived at Hogwarts, she had held the firm belief that it was inferior to her mother’s preferred Beauxbatons. Her mother had convinced her the school was filled with riff-raff and had advised Pansy to stay close to the other pureblood children.

As Pansy began her schooling, she had unfortunately had to face a bitter truth; the half-bloods and mudbloods were not as uncouth or as obtuse as she had been made to believe.

They definitely lacked basic etiquette and were oblivious to some very basic knowledge regarding the wizarding world, but as they grew up, the bridge in knowledge decreased. Her batchmates from other houses were scoring better than her. Those with one or more muggle parents had common grounds for conversation that evaded Pansy. She felt alienated even within her house. It was against her constitution to show any interest in the world outside of magical boundaries. And so she began to cling more fiercely to her childhood friends, Daphne and Theo. Her insecurities began mounting and so did her envy as she watched mudblood Granger excel her studies and snag Victor Krum as her partner for Yule ball. Even blood traitor Weasley had days where he was popular. She hated Potter just on principle. She was only counting down her time at Hogwarts, having written it off, now waiting till she got to go to France and live the life she actually deserved.

Life, however had a different plan. The Dark Lord rose to power once again – something she had never thought would happen. The dark times had been behind them, a blip in their family’s long heritage. All old affluent families had had objectionable associations every now and then. But when the Dark Lord came back, her world changed drastically. His power, his brutality, his stark ideology wasn’t an abstract thought anymore. It was real. And she was being made to live it. She was thankful every day that she was on the right side of this battle. That her family was not being targeted, that they were safe in their home. However, her illusion was once again shattered when Voldemort punished her mother repeatedly every time her father fell short in his death eater duties. Her mother died soon after, her body being too fragile after the constant onslaught of curses.

Pansy was sent back for her seventh year by her father, who had changed beyond recognition under Voldemort’s influence. He was drunk on power and had no conscience anymore. She was terrified of the death eaters around her, knowing better than most how it felt to be on the receiving end of their ministrations. She was still grieving the loss of her mother, when they asked her, for the first time, to crucio a Ravenclaw third-year for speaking out of turn. She had done the unforgivable, barely managing it, when she finally realised she was on the wrong side of the war. She survived the rest of the war on dreamless sleep and firewhisky. Her world might have collapsed but she was Pansy Parkinson, and she wasn’t going to just give up.

During her first few weeks of returning to the freshly restored Hogwarts, Pansy made up her mind that she was going to actively reach out beyond her previous prejudices. She had smiled at Longbottom when they had first seen each other, and even though he had looked over his shoulder and then made a grimace that hardly passed as a smile, before awkwardly turning away, she had taken it as a win. She helped Granger when she looked sick. When Weasley suggested throwing a party she just knew she had to take over. It was too good of an opportunity to pass. The party went wonderfully, which was to be expected considering the pains she put in to making it a success. Once the cupboard game started, she was able to relax and enjoy herself as well. The bottle chose her and Longbottom and as they strode in, she was inwardly groaning. Longbottom read her mind it seemed and once they stood facing each other he said a little apologetically, “not who you had in mind, huh?”

“Did I want to be here in this very close space with our lead rebel turned hero in a prison of my own making? No Longbottom. I obviously did not think this game through, and I will never spill my guts to you so we are just going to have to stay here for all of eternity.”

She had expected him to glare at her or just say something emotional or maybe even just insult her, but he had surprised her.

“I will make it easy for you then. You said as long as we feel vulnerable the doors will open, right?”

“Yes,” she said rolling her eyes.

“I want you to call me Neville.”

“Excuse me?”

I said, he said placatingly, “I would like for you to call me Neville, not Longbottom, starting now.”

“I don't think that actually qualifies as-

"If you give up control, it makes you vulnerable. So call me by my name because I am demanding it of you, even though you would rather not."

She gulped. "Neville", she whispered. 

“Good.”

 Without any further preamble, he took her hand and placed a small kiss on it. 

"I have never kissed a girl who didn't like me, before. So I guess that makes me vulnerable."

He took a step toward the doors, and they opened right on command.

He looked over her shoulder and winked at her.

“See you around, Pansy.”

“Uhm. Yes. You too, Longb – I mean Neville.”

Pansy walked out in a daze. No one caught her on the backfoot, but it seemed Neville had. And why in the world was just saying his name making her blush like a thirteen-year old?

She shook her head trying to clear her head and went on to enjoy the rest of the party.

In the next few days Pansy noticed Neville more than she would admit. He also seemed to be aware of her attention, and would give her a passing smile during lunch or ask her “hey, how’re you doing today?” while casually breezing past her, as if it was the most natural thing to do.

She had gone to Hogsmeade the next weekend to pick up some potion ingredients when she had bumped into Neville. Genuinely surprised to see him, as his loathing of the subject was well-known, she asked reflexively, “what are you doing here?”

Once again he took her by surprise. Instead of being embarrassed or defensive, he merely shrugged and said, “I needed to buy some restorative potions for my plants.”

When she stared at him blankly, he broke into an explanation.

“It’s for my herbology project. I am trying to quantify how different magical changes to the soil affect the growth of particular plants. I wanted a head start, unfortunately I was a little too aggressive with my first experiment.”

“Oh. Herbology. Yeah, right. Of course.”

Pansy bloody Parkinson was bloody tongue-tied. And that too while a boy was talking to her about plants. She needed to get herself checked for an imperius.

Neville just smiled.

“Would you like to get some ice-cream?”, he asked.

“There isn’t an ice-cream shop here.”, she threw at him sarcastically.

“Yes. But I believe we can  apparate?”, he asked, now definitely amused.

“Fine, yes. Let’s go.”, she said sourly, wanting to save herself from further embarrassment.  She definitely needed to get herself checked.

Their day out turned out be one of the best outings Pansy had had in the wizarding world after the war. Neville was relaxed in her presence, not seeming even the slightest bit embarrassed to be spending time with her. He had eyes for no one but her and asked her without any judgement of how she had managed to survive the last few years. He was so unassuming that Pansy found herself being able to talk to him without reserve, sharing details only her closest friends knew. There was something inherently comforting about Neville. He may not be the smartest or wittiest guy in the room but he would never hurt her, she could feel it in her bones. They came back to Hogsmeade late in the evening and strolled back leisurely to the school.

The fact that she was developing feelings for a Gryffindor did not sit well with Pansy. While she was with Neville, she was completely besotted, but when she wasn’t she was battling herself. She was afraid of what would happen when people saw them together, even though apart from the day in Diagon alley, they hadn’t spent any time alone together, which had been kind of intentional on Pansy’s part. Every morning she would convince herself that she was not going to give Neville any attention, and yet every day she would find herself looking for him. Her resolve went to pieces on the weekend Neville decided to host his first fitness session.

Pansy had got ready for Theo’s club, with no intention of sparing a glance towards the so called gym. But as usual her resolve faltered and she chanced a glimpse at Neville. She walked straight on and found a seat at the book club from where she got a direct view to him. The next quarter hour was hell. Neville was wearing really tight clothing, the kinds muggles wore while working out. His clothes were moulding the contour of his body, leaving very little to imagination. Pansy was half-drooling looking at how well-formed his muscles were. She had realised that he had filled out in the last year, but the sight in front of her was a treat for her eyes. She saw Granger come in and do a double take as she took in the sight that was Neville Longbottom. Pansy admonished her immediately but Granger made a fantastic point, there were at least a few girls who were there checking him out and giggling together like fools. Parvati Patil was one of the girls and it seemed she had called some of her Gryffindor friends from other years as well, all to ogle at Neville. As soon as Theo was done, she went straight up to them.

“Show is over girls. You will want to leave now if you want to keep your limbs.”

There was a collective dissent, but Pansy had her warn at the ready and waved it around menacingly enough.

“I am a woman of very little patience. I will not ask again.”

Grumbling, the gang of girls dissipated.

Neville had been quietly watching this exchange. Now he went and sat on the bench.

“I thought you didn’t like acknowledging me publicly”, he stated.

“Those girls looked like they were going to devour you soon,” she remarked.

“Then it seems I’m in your debt. And I’m sure you will find a way for me to pay it.”

His voice was low and husky, and Pansy could feel it ignite her core. She was once again aware of how sculpted he was. She was tempted to run her hand all over his chest and his arms; she imagined how he would feel pressed up against her.

Snapping herself out of her reverie, she realised she had completely lost track of their conversation.

Neville must have realised the same. He caught hold of her wrist and pulled her close to him. He was still sitting, so he had look right up to meet her gaze, and he did not waver.

He continued in his low voice, “If I could have my way Pansy, I would pull you all the way over and have you straddle me. I would hold you there while I worshiped you, in front of everyone, while you realised exactly how you affect me.”

Pansy chanced a glance downwards and saw his very prominent erection. There was an undeniable heat between her legs. She wanted nothing more than to take him on his offer, to feel him on her, but Pansy Parkinson never backed down from a challenge. She bent down to him, and breathed out close to his ear, “try harder.”

She saw his eyes widen in amusement. Not giving him any more power, she spun around and walked away not looking back.

A few hours later, she was in the library, scratching her head as she tried to understand the basics of using transfiguration for fitting clothes. She could fit her clothes to herself in her sleep, but she needed to understand the very basic fundamentals to be able to tailor outfits to different body types. It was a talent Pansy desperately wanted to hone. She was switching out books in the aisle when she felt him behind her. Without preamble, he placed his hands on her hips and brought himself flush behind her. His lips close to her ears he said in a seductive voice, “Pansy Parkinson, will you honour me by going out on a date with me.”

Before she could give her answer he moved his lips over the base of her neck, lightly brushing them over her exposed skin. He move his hands from her hips, bringing them forwards, splaying them over her midriff. His touch was so warm that Pansy felt like she could melt. She was having trouble standing straight. The desire to turn around and taste his lips was overwhelming.

“Say you’ll go out with me.”

“Yes,” she breathed out in almost a moan.

“Tomorrow. Lunch. Meet me outside three broomsticks. I promise you won’t regret it.”

He gave her a small kiss where his lips had been hovering, and then instantaneously let her go and vanished.

Damn, he could play, and if Pansy was keeping score, he had won this round.

The next day Pansy walked out of the Three broomsticks to meet Neville. She had only shared a single bottle of butterbeer with Blaise because she did not trust herself around Neville and needed to be completely sober to keep her wits. She hadn’t even planned on telling anyone about meeting him, but last minute it had slipped out, and she realised she didn’t regret it. She was not going to skulk around in the shadows.

Neville met her promptly. He was carrying a picnic basket in his arms that piqued her curiosity. They walked silently having only greeted each other with a ‘hey’. Neville guided her along a narrow path that led up a small hillock, away from the village. When they reached a slightly flat area, he stopped. With a flourish of his want he had draped a blanket over the grass, placing the basket on it, he turned to Pansy. With another flourish, he fashioned a bouquet of beautiful red orchards.

“These flowers represent beauty, luxury and strength – the very definition of Pansy Parkinson,” he said earnestly.

She smiled as her heart fluttered.

They both sat down and enjoyed a lovely meal. There was wine in the basket, and Pansy helped herself to it generously, forgetting her resolve to refrain. As they both relaxed under its influence, she found them once again talking freely. She told Neville about her dream to be a designer of high-end wizarding clothes, of what her vision was for her line, how she got excited just looking at different cloth materials imagining how she would drape it. Neville told her he wanted to eventually work on medicinal plants and their properties. He would need to work closely with potioneers, an irony of life he supposed, but he really wanted to see how different components of plants reacted in healing potions. He had travelled muggle London and realised their medicines were vast and varied. Wizarding potions were mostly used to help the symptoms but not target the disease itself, and he wanted to help isolate plant properties that could be targeted to a specific diagnosis. Pansy watched him as he went in great detail of all the plants he had catalogued for this purpose and how he had already starting setting up a lab in one of the greenhouses. They had been lying down on their sides, turned towards each other. The sun was right behind the hillock and was bathing Neville in its light. She was entranced by the ways his eyebrows quirked and how his lips pursed when he was trying to recall something, they way he made big gestures with his hands while trying to speaking passionately. She could still feel his hands on her, warm and caressing. She imagined how they would feel caressing her breasts, how his fingers would feel inside her as he made her pant for him. Her thoughts must’ve reflected on her face because Neville suddenly felt silent. He looked at her with blazing eyes that looked like they were going to devour her. He brought his free hand to her waist and scooted her close to him. He wordlessly looked at her for her approval and when she sighed with a small nod, he closed the gap between their lips.

Neville was a fantastic kisser. He kissed Pansy with reverence, teasing and biting her lower-lip. He tasted sweet, like honey and apples. His taste consumed her as she gave him access to her mouth in response. He wasted no time in caressing her with his strong tongue. She gasped in pleasure as he moved his hand up her shirt and over her breasts, the touch of him only making her ache with desire. He pulled back all too soon, his face reflecting the same hunger Pansy was feeling.

“Do you want to take this somewhere a little more private?” he asked his breaths heavy.

“Yes.”

He held her flush to him and she felt the tug of a side-along apparition. She hadn’t really thought of where he would take her, but they had landed in a large comfortable white bed.

“Where” – she began.

It’s my apartment. In London. It’s where I’ve been staying this past summer. I needed some a little space and”-

Pansy didn’t let him finish the sentence. She wanted to know everything he had to tell her. She wanted to see his apartment and hear him tell her all about it. But right now, she needed him. Knowing they were somewhere safe was enough. She brought her lips to his and kissed him with no inhibitions. He responded immediately, wasting no time in moving his hands over her breasts, kneading them till Pansy was craving more, moaning and sighing in pleasure. He moved his mouth over her exposed skin, to the hollow of her neck. He stopped only for the briefest moments, as he tugged her shirt up and over her head, discarding it. Then, his mouth found her skin again, going lower as he reached her breasts. He released them from her bra and enveloped one breast with his mouth, while he teasted the other with his hands. Pansy was on fire as he sucked her nipple, making her wet between her legs. She arched her back reflexively and he moved his hand down under her skirt, on her thighs. He nipped at her breast while his hand roamed up and found her wet and ready. Gently, he pushed aside the thin fabric keeping him from accessing her, and in a slow and determined movement pushed a single finger into her, his gaze on her face through it all. He wanted to see her pleasure. Pansy moaned harder, and he replaced one finger with two. All she could think was that she wanted more. She wanted more and she never wanted to stop. He starting thrusting his fingers into her with more pressure, and started rubbing her clit with his thumb. She moved her hands over his chest, feeling his hard muscled under his shirt. As he pleasured her she tugged off his shirt, taking in his muscular form. Her lust completely leading her now she moved her hand to the very obvious hardness under his pants. She pushed down his waistband, releasing his aroused and hard member. She licked her lips at seeing how big he was. She wasted no time in wrapping her mouth around him, inciting a groan from him. Pansy could feel herself reaching the edge as she sucked on him, but still she was consumed with wanting more. She needed him inside her. She needed him to be hers completely.

“I want you, all of you,” she rasped out.

As if he has only been waiting for her, Neville immediately pulled himself out of her mouth, switching them over so she was on top of him.

“I did warn you I would make you straddle me,” he said half smirking.

Powered by him, she lost no time in placing him at her entry, and then slowly pushed down. She watched as his mouth formed a small ‘o’ as she completely enveloped him.

She moved in small rhythmic motions, feeling his hardness inside her, driving her further along the edge.

“Pansy. I want this. I want everything with you,” he grunted.

 He let her ride him till she saw he was taut with the desire for release.

“Tell me you want me. Tell me”-

“I want you,” she moaned. “I want all of you. Fuck I’m almost there!”

He spun her on her back and took an unforgiving pace and drove himself into her. She straddled him around the waist moaning out his name and arched her back as she felt herself finally reach her breaking point and come around him. He felt her release and chased his own, holding her firmly from her hips as he came in her with a large grunt.

Completely spent, they both lay in bed, a tangled mess of arms and legs.

Neville was the first to break the silence.

“I meant what I said, I want this with you. I am crazy about you Pansy, and I want the world to know how besotted I am with you. So I guess what I’m asking you is, do you want that? Would you want to be my girlfriend?”, he asked, for the first time looking unsure.

“If you are as smitten by me as you just declared then you know I never do anything by halves. My answer is yes, boyfriend,” she said smiling at him.

It had been so long since Pansy had felt such unfiltered happiness and she planned to embrace every minute of it.

And so, on the morning of Halloween, Neville Longbottom and Pansy Parkinson walked into the great hall together, hand-in-hand, with no second-thoughts. The world could do it’s worse, but what they had together was worth fighting for.