100quills #3.33 Midnight
In this section I prove that it really is Draco/Pansy as well as Neville/Pansy. ^_^
Title: Enemies and Allies [Part 3 of "Neville's War"]
Rating (this part): PG
Prompt: #3.33 Midnight
Length: medium (~2300 words)
Genre: drama, romance, humor
Pairings: Draco/Pansy, Neville/Pansy
Time: 7th Year
Characters (this part): Neville, Pansy, Draco, Harry
Warnings (this part): romantic tension between cousins
Exactly two weeks after they discovered her in the manor, Neville awoke to the sounds of vomiting from the bathroom between the two bedrooms. Quickly he climbed out of bed and rushed to the bathroom, where Pansy was holding onto the sink.
"Are you all right?" he asked. Obviously she wasn't, but it was what one said.
She made a sound and her body heaved as if she were going to vomit again, but she didn't. After a minute, she let go of the sink and slowly sank to the tile floor.
"Pansy!" he cried, rushing to her, but she wasn't fainting. She was laughing. It wasn't even her familiar sardonic laugh. It was a laugh with real joy in it.
"I'm sorry, Neville," she said, still laughing. "I'm all right. I'm better than all right."
It was the first time she had called him by his first name since before they started Hogwarts. He bit his lip. "I don't understand."
"Let me wash my mouth out and I'll explain over breakfast," she said.
Sitting at the kitchen table, she sipped her tea while the eggs cooked, still smiling radiantly. When they had both had a few bites, she began.
"It's a little embarrassing," she said. "But I guess everyone will have to know about it, so I might as well start with you, Longbottom."
Back to Longbottom. He wasn't sure if the disappointment showed or not.
"I guess the direct method is best," she continued. "I'm carrying Draco's child."
Neville stared at her. "You're pregnant?"
"That is the very nub of my gist," she said, grinning.
"Why didn't you say anything to us?"
"I thought--after what they did--" the grin vanished, but she closed her eyes and shook her head fiercely. "I'm not going to think about that anymore." She opened her eyes. "I didn't tell you because I thought it couldn't survive... what happened. But Madam Pomfrey's medicine must have saved it!"
The ends connected in Neville's mind. "That's what the medicine was for, to keep you from miscarrying."
She nodded, and her smile returned as she took another sip of tea.
---
The next time he saw the rest of the DA, it was the middle of the night and they were grubby and in a rush. Pansy was asleep, and she had made him promise that she would inform the others of her pregnancy, so he felt a bit stuck. He decided that the pregnancy couldn't have an impact on Harry's plans, so it was a point that could wait.
"Neville," he said, "I'm going to ask you to do something really difficult."
His heart leapt. Was he going to be allowed to fight? "I'm ready for anything."
"I need you to brew potions for us." At Neville's appalled stare, Harry continued "Forget about potions class before! Snape always bullied you. If your confidence were what it is today, you would have passed. And I've got Snape's old textbook from when he was in school. It's full of notes."
Harry went on, telling him which potions he would need to prepare for them, most of which he had never attempted and some that he hadn't even heard of. Luna and Ginny would be dropping by frequently over the next few days with supplies...
At the next morning's breakfast, he informed Pansy of his new assignment. She laughed, as he figured she would.
"Talk about the blind brewing for the blind," she said. "I can't help you either. I was rotten at potions. Draco always whispered to me to help me, and after fourth year we used enchanted notebooks for him to write instructions to me on."
"And Snape allowed it?" Neville said. "He took points away from Gryffindor every time Hermione so much as gave me an encouraging comment."
"We Slytherins never understood McGonagall," Pansy replied. "The object of the House Cup is to win it, for goodness sake, but she took points away from Gryffindors all the time."
"And yet we kept winning it," Neville said with a grin.
"Completely unfair," said Pansy, but she was grinning too. "Not our fault that you kept saving the world at the last minute."
---
Neville was in the kitchen, proudly surveying his first batch of wound-cleansing potion that wasn't a disgusting shade of brown, when Pansy came into the room and without a word began opening cabinets and drawers, rummaging through them.
"What are you looking for?"
"Chocolate," she said. "I need chocolate."
He laughed. "Right this minute?"
"Don't get between a woman and her chocolate, Longbottom!" she said. She was peering into the dishwasher.
"That's the machine for washing dishes, remember?" he said, and she slammed it closed with a huff.
"Bloody Muggles!" she said.
"I don't think there is any, Pansy."
"But I want it now!" she pouted. "Can't you get some?"
"We can't leave the house."
"Make one of them get it!"
He got a bit irritated. "Oh sure, I know just what I'll say. 'Oh Harry, I know you're tied up trying to kill He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but could you put that on hold for a while? Pansy wants some chocolate.'"
She still pouted. "I am pregnant, you know! What's the point of being pregnant if you can't get men to run out in the middle of the night for chocolate!"
He opened his mouth and she pointed her wand at him and added, "And don't say that's it's two o'clock in the afternoon."
That hadn't been what he wanted to say, actually, but he decided that not speaking might be the best course of action anyway, and started putting the wound-cleansing potion into jars. She humphed again, pulled a box of crackers from one of the open cabinets and flounced away.
That night, when he was sure she was asleep, he snuck out and went to the 24-hour convenience store in the village, where he used some of the emergency Muggle money to buy ten chocolate bars. He felt guilty, but assured himself that he was only gone 15 minutes and look, everything's the same, no harm done.
Pansy spent the morning slowly eating three of the chocolate bars, section by section. She started calling him Neville again.
---
Weeks became months. His confidence boosted by his success making the easier potions now that Professor Snape wasn't looking over his shoulder, he tried the harder potions that they needed. Many of these needed extended brewing times, so he made more than one batch at a time, hoping that one of them would take. The kitchen and dining room were both filled with cauldrons. Pansy and Neville ate their meals on the sitting room floor most of the time.
Since Pansy was already six weeks pregnant when they had found her, clothing for her soon became a concern. Ginny stole ("Borrowed without asking," she said) some clothes from her mother, which fit, but Pansy complained they made her look old.
"Four months," she said aloud.
"I beg your pardon?" He was sitting on the couch scrutinizing Moste Potente Potions. She was lying in her pyjamas on the floor, waiting for the back pain potion to take effect.
"We've been in this house for four months," she said. "Pretty soon we won't even need to light candles. The glow from our pasty bodies will illuminate everything."
He grinned. "Isn't pale your look anyway?”
“Yes, but there's pale and then there's 'can't go outside, might burst into flames.'”
“Mm.” He turned a page.
She sighed and got to her feet. “I suppose I might as well go to bed, you're no good for conversation.”
“Sweet dreams, Pansy.”
“Night, Neville.”
He continued reading for a while, and then started the prep work for pickling murtlap tentacles. He had read that the essence would have greatest potency if made during the witching hour of a new moon night.
He had just finished screwing the jar lids on when the clock struck one. An owl hooted somewhere nearby. Neville walked to the nearest window and opened it, sticking his head out. The back yard was silent. The single tree had already dropped all its leaves, and the moonless sky made it difficult to see. He blinked, frowned and pulled his head back in, closing the window. With a sudden feeling of unease he locked it as well. In the dimly lit sitting room, the candles cast odd shadows from the jars and cauldrons. He found that he was holding his breath, listening for something.
He nearly jumped out of his skin at the scratching noise from behind him. Whirling about, he saw an owl scratching at the window he had just looked out from.
The message read:
Nancy,
I can't wait for our shopping trip. I'm thinking about getting some skincare products. A friend of mine got a makeover and I could hardly recognize her! I hope you'll be ready.
-Helen
He gulped. Polyjuice potion. He ran about, muttering to himself as he gathered the ingredients and hunted down a cauldron of the correct size. The brewing process was rather disgusting, particularly the stewed lacewing flies. He wrinkled his nose at the swamp mud-looking potion and hoped he had done it right.
He heard the front door unlock and swing open. Neville walked to the kitchen door but as he reached for the knob, it swung away from him. He found himself looking into the eyes of Draco Malfoy.
“Is the potion ready, Neville?” Harry's voice came from behind Malfoy, and Neville backed up as the two of them came through the doorway. Harry was gripping Malfoy's left shoulder, and he had his wand aimed at the middle of the other's back.
“Longbottom is brewing your potions?” said Malfoy scornfully. But the voice sounded exhausted, and Malfoy certainly looked exhausted, not to mention unwashed.
“Where-” Neville began.
“No time. Is it ready? Oh, I see it is.” Harry steered Malfoy to the dining table where the cauldron belched. “Right, hold still, Malfoy.” He pulled a few hairs from Malfoy's head and dropped them into the cauldron, which began to froth, finally turning a dull steely gray. Neville handed him a flask, and Harry filled it, grimacing.
“Not looking forward to tasting this again. Here, Malfoy, sit down. Now, bottoms up.”And with that, Neville was faced with two Draco Malfoys, identically dressed. Harry-as-Draco refilled the flask and stoppered it, while the real Malfoy examined his filthy nails sourly, as if there were nothing else in the room worth looking at.
“Like I said, Neville, I've no time to explain. Watch Malfoy for the next few hours. One of us should be back to get him, 8 o'clock at the latest. He shouldn't be dangerous, and we have his wand, but keep your eye on him.” He stared at his counterpart. “He doesn't know anything, so uh... use your discretion.” He turned his eyes back to Neville, who realized that Harry was referring to Pansy's pregnancy.
“Longbottom doesn't need to be discreet. Even if you were idiot enough to tell him your plans, Potter, he couldn't remember them to save his life.”
Harry-as-Draco made no reaction, but simply turned and walked away. Neville heard the front door close and lock.
There was a full minute of silence.
“Not to impugn your hospitality, but I'm dying of thirst, if that matters.”
“Oh. Sure. Come to the kitchen.” He let Draco precede him. “Water fine?”
“I'd take poison if it were wet,” Malfoy replied. Neville looked at him uneasily at he filled a mug from the sink. Malfoy sank into one of the kitchen chairs and took the mug without thanks. He drank the whole thing in one go and stretched it out to Neville without a word, who took it, refilled it and handed it back. This one Malfoy merely took a drink from and set down. He closed his eyes and rested his face in his hands, elbows propped on the table.
“Pansy's here,” Neville blurted.
Malfoy jerked up like one rudely awakened and gave Neville a sharp, nasty look. “What?” He did not sound pleased.
“Pansy Parkinson is here,” Neville said, wishing he'd not spoken.
Malfoy stared at him for five seconds, then turned away, screwing his eyes closed. “No.”
Neville felt a little anger coming to the aid of his voice. “What do you mean, no?”
“I can't see her. I won't see her, Longbottom.” The last part was a command that would have sent Neville scurrying when they were in school. But they weren't in school, and Neville was getting angrier.
“Could you not be selfish for once in your life?”
“Selfish?” repeated Malfoy with a disbelieving, mirthless grin. “Selfish? Merlin, Longbottom--you think I don't want to see her? This is about her. I can't be anything to her anymore. Don't even tell her I was here, Longbottom, you hear me?” He drained the last of the water from the mug and stretched it out to Neville again.
Neville hesitated, took it, and refilled it, but as he handed it back he said, “She's pregnant.”
The mug slipped from Malfoy's fingers and fell to the floor, where the plastic bounced and spilled its contents everywhere. Draco stared at the place where it lay.
He sighed.
“Could I at least have a shower first?”
Title: Enemies and Allies [Part 3 of "Neville's War"]
Rating (this part): PG
Prompt: #3.33 Midnight
Length: medium (~2300 words)
Genre: drama, romance, humor
Pairings: Draco/Pansy, Neville/Pansy
Time: 7th Year
Characters (this part): Neville, Pansy, Draco, Harry
Warnings (this part): romantic tension between cousins
Exactly two weeks after they discovered her in the manor, Neville awoke to the sounds of vomiting from the bathroom between the two bedrooms. Quickly he climbed out of bed and rushed to the bathroom, where Pansy was holding onto the sink.
"Are you all right?" he asked. Obviously she wasn't, but it was what one said.
She made a sound and her body heaved as if she were going to vomit again, but she didn't. After a minute, she let go of the sink and slowly sank to the tile floor.
"Pansy!" he cried, rushing to her, but she wasn't fainting. She was laughing. It wasn't even her familiar sardonic laugh. It was a laugh with real joy in it.
"I'm sorry, Neville," she said, still laughing. "I'm all right. I'm better than all right."
It was the first time she had called him by his first name since before they started Hogwarts. He bit his lip. "I don't understand."
"Let me wash my mouth out and I'll explain over breakfast," she said.
Sitting at the kitchen table, she sipped her tea while the eggs cooked, still smiling radiantly. When they had both had a few bites, she began.
"It's a little embarrassing," she said. "But I guess everyone will have to know about it, so I might as well start with you, Longbottom."
Back to Longbottom. He wasn't sure if the disappointment showed or not.
"I guess the direct method is best," she continued. "I'm carrying Draco's child."
Neville stared at her. "You're pregnant?"
"That is the very nub of my gist," she said, grinning.
"Why didn't you say anything to us?"
"I thought--after what they did--" the grin vanished, but she closed her eyes and shook her head fiercely. "I'm not going to think about that anymore." She opened her eyes. "I didn't tell you because I thought it couldn't survive... what happened. But Madam Pomfrey's medicine must have saved it!"
The ends connected in Neville's mind. "That's what the medicine was for, to keep you from miscarrying."
She nodded, and her smile returned as she took another sip of tea.
---
The next time he saw the rest of the DA, it was the middle of the night and they were grubby and in a rush. Pansy was asleep, and she had made him promise that she would inform the others of her pregnancy, so he felt a bit stuck. He decided that the pregnancy couldn't have an impact on Harry's plans, so it was a point that could wait.
"Neville," he said, "I'm going to ask you to do something really difficult."
His heart leapt. Was he going to be allowed to fight? "I'm ready for anything."
"I need you to brew potions for us." At Neville's appalled stare, Harry continued "Forget about potions class before! Snape always bullied you. If your confidence were what it is today, you would have passed. And I've got Snape's old textbook from when he was in school. It's full of notes."
Harry went on, telling him which potions he would need to prepare for them, most of which he had never attempted and some that he hadn't even heard of. Luna and Ginny would be dropping by frequently over the next few days with supplies...
At the next morning's breakfast, he informed Pansy of his new assignment. She laughed, as he figured she would.
"Talk about the blind brewing for the blind," she said. "I can't help you either. I was rotten at potions. Draco always whispered to me to help me, and after fourth year we used enchanted notebooks for him to write instructions to me on."
"And Snape allowed it?" Neville said. "He took points away from Gryffindor every time Hermione so much as gave me an encouraging comment."
"We Slytherins never understood McGonagall," Pansy replied. "The object of the House Cup is to win it, for goodness sake, but she took points away from Gryffindors all the time."
"And yet we kept winning it," Neville said with a grin.
"Completely unfair," said Pansy, but she was grinning too. "Not our fault that you kept saving the world at the last minute."
---
Neville was in the kitchen, proudly surveying his first batch of wound-cleansing potion that wasn't a disgusting shade of brown, when Pansy came into the room and without a word began opening cabinets and drawers, rummaging through them.
"What are you looking for?"
"Chocolate," she said. "I need chocolate."
He laughed. "Right this minute?"
"Don't get between a woman and her chocolate, Longbottom!" she said. She was peering into the dishwasher.
"That's the machine for washing dishes, remember?" he said, and she slammed it closed with a huff.
"Bloody Muggles!" she said.
"I don't think there is any, Pansy."
"But I want it now!" she pouted. "Can't you get some?"
"We can't leave the house."
"Make one of them get it!"
He got a bit irritated. "Oh sure, I know just what I'll say. 'Oh Harry, I know you're tied up trying to kill He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but could you put that on hold for a while? Pansy wants some chocolate.'"
She still pouted. "I am pregnant, you know! What's the point of being pregnant if you can't get men to run out in the middle of the night for chocolate!"
He opened his mouth and she pointed her wand at him and added, "And don't say that's it's two o'clock in the afternoon."
That hadn't been what he wanted to say, actually, but he decided that not speaking might be the best course of action anyway, and started putting the wound-cleansing potion into jars. She humphed again, pulled a box of crackers from one of the open cabinets and flounced away.
That night, when he was sure she was asleep, he snuck out and went to the 24-hour convenience store in the village, where he used some of the emergency Muggle money to buy ten chocolate bars. He felt guilty, but assured himself that he was only gone 15 minutes and look, everything's the same, no harm done.
Pansy spent the morning slowly eating three of the chocolate bars, section by section. She started calling him Neville again.
---
Weeks became months. His confidence boosted by his success making the easier potions now that Professor Snape wasn't looking over his shoulder, he tried the harder potions that they needed. Many of these needed extended brewing times, so he made more than one batch at a time, hoping that one of them would take. The kitchen and dining room were both filled with cauldrons. Pansy and Neville ate their meals on the sitting room floor most of the time.
Since Pansy was already six weeks pregnant when they had found her, clothing for her soon became a concern. Ginny stole ("Borrowed without asking," she said) some clothes from her mother, which fit, but Pansy complained they made her look old.
"Four months," she said aloud.
"I beg your pardon?" He was sitting on the couch scrutinizing Moste Potente Potions. She was lying in her pyjamas on the floor, waiting for the back pain potion to take effect.
"We've been in this house for four months," she said. "Pretty soon we won't even need to light candles. The glow from our pasty bodies will illuminate everything."
He grinned. "Isn't pale your look anyway?”
“Yes, but there's pale and then there's 'can't go outside, might burst into flames.'”
“Mm.” He turned a page.
She sighed and got to her feet. “I suppose I might as well go to bed, you're no good for conversation.”
“Sweet dreams, Pansy.”
“Night, Neville.”
He continued reading for a while, and then started the prep work for pickling murtlap tentacles. He had read that the essence would have greatest potency if made during the witching hour of a new moon night.
He had just finished screwing the jar lids on when the clock struck one. An owl hooted somewhere nearby. Neville walked to the nearest window and opened it, sticking his head out. The back yard was silent. The single tree had already dropped all its leaves, and the moonless sky made it difficult to see. He blinked, frowned and pulled his head back in, closing the window. With a sudden feeling of unease he locked it as well. In the dimly lit sitting room, the candles cast odd shadows from the jars and cauldrons. He found that he was holding his breath, listening for something.
He nearly jumped out of his skin at the scratching noise from behind him. Whirling about, he saw an owl scratching at the window he had just looked out from.
The message read:
Nancy,
I can't wait for our shopping trip. I'm thinking about getting some skincare products. A friend of mine got a makeover and I could hardly recognize her! I hope you'll be ready.
-Helen
He gulped. Polyjuice potion. He ran about, muttering to himself as he gathered the ingredients and hunted down a cauldron of the correct size. The brewing process was rather disgusting, particularly the stewed lacewing flies. He wrinkled his nose at the swamp mud-looking potion and hoped he had done it right.
He heard the front door unlock and swing open. Neville walked to the kitchen door but as he reached for the knob, it swung away from him. He found himself looking into the eyes of Draco Malfoy.
“Is the potion ready, Neville?” Harry's voice came from behind Malfoy, and Neville backed up as the two of them came through the doorway. Harry was gripping Malfoy's left shoulder, and he had his wand aimed at the middle of the other's back.
“Longbottom is brewing your potions?” said Malfoy scornfully. But the voice sounded exhausted, and Malfoy certainly looked exhausted, not to mention unwashed.
“Where-” Neville began.
“No time. Is it ready? Oh, I see it is.” Harry steered Malfoy to the dining table where the cauldron belched. “Right, hold still, Malfoy.” He pulled a few hairs from Malfoy's head and dropped them into the cauldron, which began to froth, finally turning a dull steely gray. Neville handed him a flask, and Harry filled it, grimacing.
“Not looking forward to tasting this again. Here, Malfoy, sit down. Now, bottoms up.”And with that, Neville was faced with two Draco Malfoys, identically dressed. Harry-as-Draco refilled the flask and stoppered it, while the real Malfoy examined his filthy nails sourly, as if there were nothing else in the room worth looking at.
“Like I said, Neville, I've no time to explain. Watch Malfoy for the next few hours. One of us should be back to get him, 8 o'clock at the latest. He shouldn't be dangerous, and we have his wand, but keep your eye on him.” He stared at his counterpart. “He doesn't know anything, so uh... use your discretion.” He turned his eyes back to Neville, who realized that Harry was referring to Pansy's pregnancy.
“Longbottom doesn't need to be discreet. Even if you were idiot enough to tell him your plans, Potter, he couldn't remember them to save his life.”
Harry-as-Draco made no reaction, but simply turned and walked away. Neville heard the front door close and lock.
There was a full minute of silence.
“Not to impugn your hospitality, but I'm dying of thirst, if that matters.”
“Oh. Sure. Come to the kitchen.” He let Draco precede him. “Water fine?”
“I'd take poison if it were wet,” Malfoy replied. Neville looked at him uneasily at he filled a mug from the sink. Malfoy sank into one of the kitchen chairs and took the mug without thanks. He drank the whole thing in one go and stretched it out to Neville without a word, who took it, refilled it and handed it back. This one Malfoy merely took a drink from and set down. He closed his eyes and rested his face in his hands, elbows propped on the table.
“Pansy's here,” Neville blurted.
Malfoy jerked up like one rudely awakened and gave Neville a sharp, nasty look. “What?” He did not sound pleased.
“Pansy Parkinson is here,” Neville said, wishing he'd not spoken.
Malfoy stared at him for five seconds, then turned away, screwing his eyes closed. “No.”
Neville felt a little anger coming to the aid of his voice. “What do you mean, no?”
“I can't see her. I won't see her, Longbottom.” The last part was a command that would have sent Neville scurrying when they were in school. But they weren't in school, and Neville was getting angrier.
“Could you not be selfish for once in your life?”
“Selfish?” repeated Malfoy with a disbelieving, mirthless grin. “Selfish? Merlin, Longbottom--you think I don't want to see her? This is about her. I can't be anything to her anymore. Don't even tell her I was here, Longbottom, you hear me?” He drained the last of the water from the mug and stretched it out to Neville again.
Neville hesitated, took it, and refilled it, but as he handed it back he said, “She's pregnant.”
The mug slipped from Malfoy's fingers and fell to the floor, where the plastic bounced and spilled its contents everywhere. Draco stared at the place where it lay.
He sighed.
“Could I at least have a shower first?”