For her? Anything.
It was silly, really, why she was here. She could have ordered from any number of overpriced planthouses that catered to the old money–she had done so exclusively in the past. But Pansy was curious for multiple reasons and Neville Longbottom’s little nursery in Hogsmeade was making a name for itself among garden enthusiasts.
Now, Pansy wasn’t a garden enthusiast by any stretch of the imagination. What plants she did bother to place in her home looked nice with just the right amount of glossy greenery to bring a sense of life to her space. Magic made upkeep thoughtless with charms like drought detection and pest repellent.
What drew her attention to Longbottom’s little hut were the rumors of unique, one-of-a-kind flora, the promise that the man himself would ensure you walked away with a companion who would fit your lifestyle just so. Pansy had never had a relationship to speak of with her leafy friends. They were strictly foliage to dress up more striking decor, which admittedly leaned towards the dark gothic–deep mauve, midnight blue, matte black, and, of course, brass accents. She adored thick, velvet fabrics, heavy brocade. What kind of plants would Neville pick for her?
The Magic Bean was everything and nothing that Pansy had expected.
From the outside, the humble building with its thatched roof, lime-washed cob walls, and climbing ivy looked like any other English home. There was nothing from the exterior that gave away the secrets within, not even the simple wooden sign above the doorway. Once you walked in, however…
Stepping through the entrance, she felt a brush of magic over her entire person, the warmth of which invited her to close her eyes and lean into the comfort of it. Within a breath, the touch disappeared and she opened her eyes once more.
The entry shop was something out of Helga Hufflepuff’s daydreams (or Slytherin’s nightmares), sunlight streaming through the large, deep-set windows onto open-backed shelves lining all the walls and piled to the brim with potted plants of every size and color imaginable. An expansion charm had to be in effect with just how deep the room went, the back wall of glass doors opening into what appeared to be even more space. Numerous baskets hung from the ceiling, and Pansy could already feel a sheen of moisture settling onto her face from the room’s humidity.
“Pansy?”
The owner himself stood behind the front desk, likely having just emerged from the side door behind him, and it took her a few moments to gather herself from her initial shock. He looked good. Memories from their Ministry-sanctioned 8th year meant she knew how he’d grown into quite the specimen of masculinity. He’d towered over the other boys, broadened and trimmed down in all the right places, and those chubby cheeks had melted into sharp edges and stubble. She wondered how his thick dark hair would feel between her fingers.
“Longbottom.”
“How can I help you?” Nothing in his expression betrayed a grudge or any misgivings towards the girl he’d grown up with and seen across heavily drawn lines. His brow remained relaxed, both of his hands visible where they rested on the table top.
His hands. Even from where she stood across the room, she could see the corded muscles of his bare arms and the span of his palm and fingertips, large enough to lift her effortlessly against a wall or across a desk.
“I need some plants.”
Her words earned her a broad grin, his white teeth flashing against his sun-kissed skin.
“Well, you’re in the right place.”
She sniffed, her instinctual response when she wasn’t sure what to say next. Looking around the room once more, she realized she probably should have done a bit of research before coming here.
“May I ask where you mean to use them?” His voice seemed deeper than she remembered. Calm and confident.
“Inside my home.”
“I’m happy to help you choose, if you’d like?”
Pansy turned to look at him once more, and she couldn’t help but finger the medallion hanging from her choker. His eyes flit downward before fixing back on her face with an inquisitive tilt of his head.
“I suppose that would be most efficient.”
Her heart stopped at another one of his all-encompassing smiles.
Turning to a strange bell-shaped plant next to the register, he gently lifted the blossom and spoke into it, “Susan, can you mind the till for a bit?”
To Pansy’s astonishment, a voice answered back out of the flower. “I’ll be right there.”
Not a minute later, Susan Bones strode from the back, wiping her gloved hands on her apron. She looked much the same as Pansy remembered with the addition of a similar golden glow to her face. She stopped short at the sight of Pansy.
“Parkinson?”
Pansy nodded her acknowledgement. “Bones.” She hadn’t known the Hufflepuff very well, nor had she kept tabs on where she went off to after Hogwarts. Pansy didn’t harbor any particular feelings about her former schoolmate other than her usual wariness.
Susan’s eyes slid over to her coworker, raising her brows in an unspoken question, and Pansy wondered.
Were they…together?
“I’ll be assisting Pansy for at least the next hour.”
Hour?
“Are you sure a home visit in this case is…wise?”
And there it was. Susan’s eyes narrowed as she ran her eyes down Pansy’s frame, scoffing once she reached the 4-inch patent-leather heels.
“For her? Anything.”
Now that caught both of their attentions, and they leveled him with near identical looks of shock that had him tossing his head back in a full-throated laugh.
“I’ll be fine, Susan, I promise. Unless, of course, Pansy here has rigged her home with gardener booby traps?” The teasing glint in his eye sent a rush of heat through Pansy’s core. Two could play that game.
“Just the trademark chains and whips, if you’re into that, Longbottom.”
Susan’s gasp paired beautifully with the way Neville’s brows raised. Pansy tried to not think too hard on how his eyes darkened and hands fisted at her words. He took a deep breath and flattened his palms once more before responding.
“I’m sure we can find something that’ll fit.” Circling the counter, he offered her his arm. The moment she took it, he steered her back towards the entrance.
“Wait, you were serious? You want to visit my home right now?” This wasn’t at all what she had expected. She figured they would tour the greenhouse and that he’d ask her a bit more about her decorations and style preferences.
“I like to see what we’re working with firsthand,” he replied without hesitation, stopping at the nearby apparition point. He turned to face her, close enough for her to breathe in his heady mixture of aromas—sun-drenched earth, some unidentified floral sweetness…and honey? “I’m ready when you are.”
She could do this. Neville Longbottom in her home. Taking a deep breath and clutching his arm even tighter, she swirled them to the right. Pansy took a small pride in her apparition skills. Rather than the usual loud crack most others created, her magic resulted in a barely there swoosh, like the twirl of a skirt. Landings were just as smooth, unraveling gracefully into place.
“Nice.”
She preened at the compliment, despite mourning the loss of his warmth as Neville’s arms dropped away and they turned as one towards her front door. She couldn’t help but notice his shudder as he followed her through the entryway.
“Is there something wrong?”
“Oh, nothing bad. I couldn’t help but feel your wards—they felt like dropping into a pool of cool water,” he said, smiling wryly along with his observation.
“It keeps out hotheaded Gryffindors, so I guess you pass the test.” That earned her another one of his grins.
“Well, I can already tell you have impeccable taste. This is going to be fun.” Neville slowly rotated as he studied the entrance. “ Willett’s?”
She nodded as he gestured at the vase sitting on the circular receiving table. The peonies were beautiful captured as they were at the start of their bloom.
“They do fine work. You really can’t go wrong with their bouquets.”
“But?”
He glanced between her and the pink blossoms, opening then shutting his mouth as if considering his words carefully.
“Just spit it out, Longbottom.”
“They’re a bit…on the nose, aren’t they?” He smiled apologetically, but she instantly knew what he meant.
Peonies, favored for their simple elegance and illusions to wealth and romance.
“Not to mention too boring for you.” His eyes flickered from the art on the walls, down to the mosaic tile at their feet, then beyond the dark archway leading further into her home.
What followed were the most enthralling couple of hours within recent memory. Each room resulted in deliberation and conversation. Pansy felt like what she imagined one of his new plants must feel—examined from every angle, situated in different soil and humidity, overwatered, then starved, thrust into the sunlight only to be pulled back into the shade. He acted then reacted.
By the time he started to wrap things up, her stomach was growling in the most unflattering way.
“I’m sorry I took so much of your time, but I think I know where to start now.”
“This might be the most excited I’ve been since Granger released her exposé on Rita Skeeter.”
“Oh, I know . Who would’ve thought? A beetle, of all things!”
They were joking like old friends inside of her home, and Neville Longbottom was going to furnish said home with as many plants as his heart desired. Even four inches taller as she was, she still had to look up at him to catch the twinkle in his eye, the way they crinkled at the edges as he laughed. If she lifted up on her toes she might be able to press her mouth to his.
“I’m heading back briefly to relieve Susan and close up shop. How about we discuss the rest of our ideas over dinner?”
Pansy blinked up at him, still wondering at the state of his lips, and if she imagined the words that had just come out of them. She must have stayed silent a beat too long, because his smile faded as he gazed down at her.
“Pansy?”
“Are you asking me to dinner strictly in a professional manner, or can I look more into it?” The question spilled out before she could reign it back in. Damn her curiosity and impatience. Damn her mouth that never knew when to shut up even after all these years. At least now she knew he and Susan were likely only coworkers.
He stepped closer, taking her hand in one of his own. He radiated heat as if he soaked in the sunshine. She thought she’d melt from exposure, or perhaps burst into flames.
“Why not both?”
Oh, Circe. “Longbottom…”
“Call me ‘Neville’.”
“Neville, I’m not certain you know what you’re getting into with me—”
“Oh, I think I do. I just walked through room after room of some of the moodiest decadence I’ve ever seen in my life, covered with leather, velvet, and marble in a color palette one might consider Snape-inspired. That man terrified me. You terrify me.”
“That’s not exactly—”
“But you also fascinate me.”
“What?”
“I want to balance out your style, breathe some real life into it.” He raised her fingers to his lips and exhaled softly, the heat of it sending a shiver straight through her. He murmured his next words after pressing a kiss where his breath still tingled, “Come to dinner with me, please?”
“...fine.”
Forget their past history and seemingly different lifestyles. Forget what her mother would think, or her father. Neville was right. She was starving, and he was irresistible.