Interlude
INTERLUDE
Malfoy Manor
ParkBottom Engagment
Witches and wizards milled about the extravagent ballroom, gowns and dress robes glittering under the candlelight. Laughter rang over the musicians, glasses clinked, the entire room aglow with joy. And yet, as Pansy Parkinson lifted her champagne glass to her lips, the little bubbles of happiness did not lift her. Neville slipped away while the Greengrasses accosted her, and now she had no idea where he was hiding.
Pansy made sure to nod and exclaim in the right parts of the conversation, only half listening as Mrs Greengrass prattled on about her girls and their exciting trip to the Americas. How anyone would want to visit that primitive area was beyond Pansy, but to each their own.
“Oh, Pansy dear! Daphne just owled us this morning about a new beau of hers. Raul or something.” Mrs Greengrass preened as though she was the one dating internationally. Mr Greengrass shook his greying head and sighed.
“Ryan. His name is Ryan. From America.” The way his tone dripped with disdain, she knew exactly which America he was referring to.
“How delightful.” Pansy intoned, not truly caring what the Greengrass girls were up to, lest they decide to return to Britain. “Now, if you will ex–”
“- least he is a wizard with a good pedigree though, would not want our daughters to sully themselves with a blood tr—” The Greengrass matriarch cut off as Pansy reached out and grasped the older witch’s arm, hard. “Dear me, it is getting late. Why don’t I escort you to the entrance? I would hate to be the reason you do not get enough beauty sleep so you do not have to charm the dark circles like tonight.” Pansy’s smile was tight, but her tone pleasant. She knew exactly what Constance Greengrass was alluding to and she would be damned if someone insulted Neville, casually, pointedly, or otherwise. Her grip tightened when she felt Constance attempt to pull away.
“Smile, love. Wouldn’t want to cause a scene. The party is winding down, the elder generation is all slowly leaving. We can part on good terms, or I can ruin everything you have scraped back together in the last seven years. You may want us all to think your daughters want to be traveling right now. But we both know they are hiding from our society while holding on to what little clout they have overseas. Maybe they will make decent matches, but one letter from myself or my parents will end any hopes you may have for them.” Pansy kept her tone pleasant while a genuine smile pulled at her painted lips. A shiver ran down her spine at the thought; destroying the Greengrass family name would be her greatest pleasure. The only thing better would be sex. Pansy smirked, leaving the Greengrasses at the ebony door, and left to find her fiance.
Theo sauntered out into the corridor at the same moment and slipped his arm around her waist, expertly guiding her past the ballroom doors, where she caught a glimpse of Draco guiding a particular brunette onto the dance floor. Theo and Pansy shared a smirk before Theo deposited her several rooms down from the main party.
They had decided to turn one of the sitting rooms into a quieter space upon Neville’s insistence. The lightly lit room had several sofas and chairs spaced out. Floating serving trays were charmed to meander through the sitting area, offering the few guests light refreshments. Soft light caressed his stubbled jaw, casting his features in shadows. His thick eyebrows furrowed over his hazel eyes. Pansy let her eyes traverse over his face, slumped shoulders, and the glass of amber liquid next to him.
Pansy barely registered those in the room as she moved towards the forlorn man on the sofa. His dark head was resting in hands that she knew still bore traces of soil under the nails with rough calluses, hard earned. Those hands were her favourite part of Neville Longbottom. Even before she could admit it, Pansy had secretly coveted his hands and forearms, shamelessly staring in Herbology. Most of the boys she dated back then were soft-handed aristocrats. Mummy’s boys through and through. But mothers were why they were here. Due to their choices and sacrifices, Pansy and Neville sat in this room surrounded by signs of another mother’s love, celebrating their own love.
Pansy picked the glass up from the arm of the sofa and gingerly sat down in its place, perching next to him, the cream colour matching the icy exterior the Malfoys portrayed. Their eyes meet, and Pansy felt her heart stutter against her breastbone. Neville had always been the softer of the two of them; with everything he experienced in life, he still held on to his emptiness, keeping his heart gentle. That gentle strength was cracking, sadness radiated from him. He dropped his head into her lap with a choked noise as she carded her manicured hands through his waves.
His words were muffled, and she could hear the tears shaking his voice.
“They should be here. They should be here, celebrating, laughing…dancing with their friends.” His voice trembled. “I wish…I want– fuck!” He lurched up from the sofa, Pansy almost losing her balance on the edge, his steady hand grounding her before she could tip. Even in his emotional state, he would never let her fall. She had never met Neville’s parents; neither had made it out of the war. When St. Mungo’s fell, so did Frank and Alice Longbottom. Some nights Neville would pull her close and share memories of them. He never made them into who they weren’t, always making sure she knew they had their flaws and difficulties, but he spoke of his parents with awe, pride, and a deep sorrow.
Thinking of all Neville had lost because of Voldemort made Pansy want a second resurrection solely to kill the noseless bastard a second time. Her parents were no better, but the moment the tide had change at Hogwarts, they had fled, leaving 18 year old Pansy to answer the Wizengamot in the Parkinson name. Last she heard, they were somewhere in the Baltics, though she tried not to focus on them. Her mother had sent a non-descript owl after her engagement was plastered on every paper in the region, declaring that they would never recognise a blood-traitor as part of their family and Pansy would come to her senses. And she had. Just not in the way they would ever hope. She was going to marry Neville Longbottom, She was going to let him do filthy, nasty things to her, and she was going to love him forever. Damn the Parkinson name.
“They would be so proud of you. Of the man you are and the husband you will be. No child was ever loved the way they adored you, even after…everything they went through. You deserve this and they would never begrudge your happiness.” Her voice broke a moment before she peered up at him. “You are happy, aren't you?” With anyone else she would not have dared to ask, but with this man? She was always safe.
“Pans…” His face was pure desperation as he pulled her into a searing kiss. His lips slanted over hers, one right hand chipped against her neck and the other tangled in her hair. She knew he needed this, he needed to remind himself that he was still here and still alive. She opened her mouth and let her tongue slide against his. A groan rattled in his throat as he kissed her deeper, her body molded against his. And then, as quickly as the kiss started, it softened. His thumb caressed her jaw as he nipped deliciously at her bottom lip, making her back arch. He pulled away after another gentle kiss, this one on her forehead.
“Do you remember their funeral? You had never met my parents but you still marched your beautiful arse right down to the front row, took the seat next to me, and held my hand. I don't know who was more shocked; me or everyone else. I have loved you in my greatest sorrow and I will love you with the happiest of hearts.”