Fic: When Will You Pay Me? (Pansy/Neville, G)
Title: When Will You Pay Me?
Author: quietliban
Rating: G
Prompt Set: 50.4
Prompt: #6 Suprise
Word Count: ~800 words
Summary: Neville has never seen Pansy smile.
Notes: For 100quills. 'Oranges and Lemons' is a nursery rhyme which, I never knew as a child (I mean, I knew it was a nursery rhyme, but I never knew the words.) Same drill as before, meant to sit within The End of All the Fighting 'verse. I should probably name it and do a list-y thing. Probably. ::shrugs::
When Will You Pay Me?
“You owe me five farthings…”
Luna is singing Muggle nursery rhymes in the kitchen. Neville can hear her light voice through the cottage, and he hopes that she won’t wake up Harry. Sleep is a precious commodity these days, and Luna is the only one who seems to be able to get enough of it.
“…say the bells of St Martins…”
He holds two mugs of Hermione’s instant Muggle coffee in his hand. He sets one down on the dressing table before the heat burns him. Neville is not sure what he is doing here in Luna and Pansy’s room. He only knows that he’s worried. Not about the fighting, or about Harry and the search for the Horcruxes, but about Pansy. The dark circles around her eyes are deeper than everybody else's. Pansy seems so alone here, and Neville knows what it is like to be all alone among a hundred people (or maybe just five).
“…when will you pay me?”
He stares down at the rug across the wooden floorboards. The faded crimson colour reminds him of the Gryffindor common room. The pattern swirls in and out with stained cream and blue.
“What are you doing here, Longbottom?” Pansy asks. Her voice is taut and her hair is wet, hanging in rat tails down her shoulders. Neville looks at her standing in the doorway, and tries to smile.
“I-I-“ he falters and looks down at the steaming mug in his hand. He breathes in. “I just wanted to see how you were.”
Pansy looks away. Her hand goes to her shoulder where she tugs on a wet strand of hair. It has grown long since their days at Hogwarts. Pansy sighs before entering the room. She sits on her bed across from where Neville is sitting on Luna’s bed.
“I’m fine,” she says. There is a rehearsed quality to her voice.
Neville looks at her doubtfully. “I brought coffee.” He gestures to the mug resting on the dressing table.
Pansy shakes her head at this. There is something a kin to a smirk on her face, but she moves to cover it with her hair.
“You don’t sleep, Pansy,” Neville says.
She looks at him, and shrugs. “Neither do you,” she retorts and picks up the coffee mug, her hands curving around it.
Neville takes a sip from his mug. The coffee is weak but bitter. He grimaces. He doesn’t understand how Hermione and Pansy guzzle this stuff down like it is the only thing keeping them alive. “I would,” he reproaches her. “If someone didn’t wake me up every night.”
Pansy crinkles her nose as she sips her coffee. She looks at him disbelievingly. Carefully, she sets the mug back on the dressing table. “No smoking in the house,” she replies, her expression daring Neville to disagree with her.
He snorts and bites back laughter. Pansy sounded just like Hermione, her voice inflecting the words with right amount of bossiness. Neville remembers the imitations that Draco and the other Slytherins use to perform at school, and he wonders. They may have been taking the Mick out him and all the other Houses, but they were damn accurate.
Pansy sees the laughter on his face, and rolls her eyes. A smile creeps on to her lips and dies prematurely. Neville shakes his head.
“You know…” he begins, and then stops, thinking better of it. He doesn’t want to remind her of Malfoy, and of why she is here.
“Go on,” Pansy encourages, reaching across for the towel hanging over the back of the chair.
Neville shakes his head. His mind thinking over things he could say, over things that could make things better. Nothing comes to mind. “It was nothing.”
Pansy brushes her hair, with one hand holding the towel underneath her wet locks. She pauses and looks at him quizzically.
Neville sighs. “I was just going to say…” he looks around the room, hoping for something else to come to mind. “I was going to say, that I don’t think I've ever seen you smile.” The last leaves his mouth before he has even realised what it is he has said.
Pansy puts down her towel.
“You still haven’t,” she tells him.
Neville feels something sink in his gut. He is not sure, but he thinks it could be disappointment. He shrugs and picks up the coffee mug from the dressing table.
“I’m sure I don’t know…”
Luna’s voice carries through the cottage, soft and light in the mid-afternoon air.
Author: quietliban
Rating: G
Prompt Set: 50.4
Prompt: #6 Suprise
Word Count: ~800 words
Summary: Neville has never seen Pansy smile.
Notes: For 100quills. 'Oranges and Lemons' is a nursery rhyme which, I never knew as a child (I mean, I knew it was a nursery rhyme, but I never knew the words.) Same drill as before, meant to sit within The End of All the Fighting 'verse. I should probably name it and do a list-y thing. Probably. ::shrugs::
When Will You Pay Me?
“You owe me five farthings…”
Luna is singing Muggle nursery rhymes in the kitchen. Neville can hear her light voice through the cottage, and he hopes that she won’t wake up Harry. Sleep is a precious commodity these days, and Luna is the only one who seems to be able to get enough of it.
“…say the bells of St Martins…”
He holds two mugs of Hermione’s instant Muggle coffee in his hand. He sets one down on the dressing table before the heat burns him. Neville is not sure what he is doing here in Luna and Pansy’s room. He only knows that he’s worried. Not about the fighting, or about Harry and the search for the Horcruxes, but about Pansy. The dark circles around her eyes are deeper than everybody else's. Pansy seems so alone here, and Neville knows what it is like to be all alone among a hundred people (or maybe just five).
“…when will you pay me?”
He stares down at the rug across the wooden floorboards. The faded crimson colour reminds him of the Gryffindor common room. The pattern swirls in and out with stained cream and blue.
“What are you doing here, Longbottom?” Pansy asks. Her voice is taut and her hair is wet, hanging in rat tails down her shoulders. Neville looks at her standing in the doorway, and tries to smile.
“I-I-“ he falters and looks down at the steaming mug in his hand. He breathes in. “I just wanted to see how you were.”
Pansy looks away. Her hand goes to her shoulder where she tugs on a wet strand of hair. It has grown long since their days at Hogwarts. Pansy sighs before entering the room. She sits on her bed across from where Neville is sitting on Luna’s bed.
“I’m fine,” she says. There is a rehearsed quality to her voice.
Neville looks at her doubtfully. “I brought coffee.” He gestures to the mug resting on the dressing table.
Pansy shakes her head at this. There is something a kin to a smirk on her face, but she moves to cover it with her hair.
“You don’t sleep, Pansy,” Neville says.
She looks at him, and shrugs. “Neither do you,” she retorts and picks up the coffee mug, her hands curving around it.
Neville takes a sip from his mug. The coffee is weak but bitter. He grimaces. He doesn’t understand how Hermione and Pansy guzzle this stuff down like it is the only thing keeping them alive. “I would,” he reproaches her. “If someone didn’t wake me up every night.”
Pansy crinkles her nose as she sips her coffee. She looks at him disbelievingly. Carefully, she sets the mug back on the dressing table. “No smoking in the house,” she replies, her expression daring Neville to disagree with her.
He snorts and bites back laughter. Pansy sounded just like Hermione, her voice inflecting the words with right amount of bossiness. Neville remembers the imitations that Draco and the other Slytherins use to perform at school, and he wonders. They may have been taking the Mick out him and all the other Houses, but they were damn accurate.
Pansy sees the laughter on his face, and rolls her eyes. A smile creeps on to her lips and dies prematurely. Neville shakes his head.
“You know…” he begins, and then stops, thinking better of it. He doesn’t want to remind her of Malfoy, and of why she is here.
“Go on,” Pansy encourages, reaching across for the towel hanging over the back of the chair.
Neville shakes his head. His mind thinking over things he could say, over things that could make things better. Nothing comes to mind. “It was nothing.”
Pansy brushes her hair, with one hand holding the towel underneath her wet locks. She pauses and looks at him quizzically.
Neville sighs. “I was just going to say…” he looks around the room, hoping for something else to come to mind. “I was going to say, that I don’t think I've ever seen you smile.” The last leaves his mouth before he has even realised what it is he has said.
Pansy puts down her towel.
“You still haven’t,” she tells him.
Neville feels something sink in his gut. He is not sure, but he thinks it could be disappointment. He shrugs and picks up the coffee mug from the dressing table.
“I’m sure I don’t know…”
Luna’s voice carries through the cottage, soft and light in the mid-afternoon air.