The Right by Parks and Fiction Chapter 8.
Pansy and Neville fell into a quiet truce.
Neither of them brought up the blood oath or the right.
It wasn't like there was any way for her to do research on
either, so she left it up to him and focused on her work.
Between the end of year exams for Neville and all the work she
had with finishing her fall line and negotiations for a
storefront in Diagon Alley, they both stayed busy enough to avoid
each other without seeming like they were avoiding each other.
Neville slept in the guest room and took all of his meals at the
castle. It wasn't until the Friday after
they'd gotten married that she even saw him in the morning.
She nearly dropped her teacup on the ground when he emerged from
the bathroom in a cloud of steam with only a towel around his
waist. Holy fucking Merlin, sorry.
He mumbled. Forgot my robes.
It took her several moments to compose herself.
When she was finally able to stand, she walked into the
bedroom to confirm what she'd just seen and was treated to the
image of Neville hunched over the dresser, one hand on his
towel, digging through the drawer for a pair of pants.
Neville fucking Longbottom was fit.
Solid muscles rippled across his back.
His sides were nothing but clean lines leading to a well defined
waist, but his shoulders, broad and strong and roped with
thickly corded muscles. Watching them shift and flex
with every small movement was an experience.
He stood and arched an eyebrow. Do you need something just to
sit on those shoulders with his face between her legs?
To find out for herself whether or not Hannah Abbott liked to
exaggerate? Why have you been hiding this?
She gestured to his regrettably half naked body underneath
those. She pointed to his hideous
collection of robes hanging in his closet.
He looked confused. How long have you been able to
bounce a Knut off your pectoral's Longbottom?
His lips lifted into a hint of a smug smirk.
He dropped the few items he grabbed onto the side of the bed
and walked over to the closet, the towel sliding down an inch
or two. Just because it took me a few
years longer than most to lose my baby fat doesn't mean I never
did. Sweet Merlin, he had dimples
above his arse. Whatever happened to him was a
hell of a lot more than losing baby fat.
He dug through the closet while she waited for the towel to slip
a little more. Herbology is a physically
demanding discipline. Apparent.
Fucking Lee. Professor Sprout's physique
would suggest otherwise. He turned back with one of his
hideous robes that seemed even worse now she knew what they
were covering up. I prefer a more hands on style
than she does. Hands on where exactly?
Because if he wanted to. His smug smirk interrupted that
line of thinking. Confidence suited him.
She hated it. Back to the matter of hand.
Have you seriously never bought new robes since 5th year?
He sighed. It's hard to find robes that fit
my shoulders, and I need space to move my arms freely.
She bit back her moan. He had to bring up his shoulders
again, didn't he? You've never heard of a tailor?
I don't mind my robes. Putting robes on a body like
this should be outlawed by the International Confederation of
Wizards. Well, there went her day.
She conjured A measuring tape. Neville swatted it away.
Pansy, you promised I get to dress you for social occasions.
He frowned. We don't have.
She put the tape back to work and it whipped around him,
taking all the measurements she needed.
Slytherin drinks and cards tonight.
That's not an occasion. She frowned.
What, you thought I'd just meant Christmas?
Maybe an odd wedding here or there?
He mumbled. Social occasions, not the
special events, honestly. Although since you eat at the
staff table every day, technically I pick what I wear
to work. He growled.
His first demeanour was immediately ruined by a sharp
Yelp. He jumped back, knuckles turning
white where he gripped his towel.
Bloody hell, Pansy. She smiled serenely in Seam.
Warn a man next time. He muttered, face beet red.
He was lucky she didn't have to measure anything else down
there. The measuring tape curled up and
flew to her hand. That'll be all, thank you.
With another indiscernible grumble, he grabbed his hideous
clothes and stomped off to the bathroom, giving her another
glorious look at his back dimples.
A loud crack a minute later told her he'd disapparated directly
from the bathroom. Well then.
Smirking to herself, she walked into the said bathroom.
The shopping was going to take up most of her day, but first
she was going to treat herself to a very long bath.
Pansy strode into the Department for the Control and Regulation
of Magical Creatures, several bags of shopping in either hand.
But that would defeat the purpose of her visit.
Hermione's bright smile turned into one of horror when she saw
the bags in Pansy's hands. No, go away.
She pouted. Is that any way to greet your
best friend? Hermione perked up and looked
over her shoulder. Oh, did Harry stop by too?
Piss off. She said without heat.
She laughed. Seriously though, I'm not trying
on those clothes. She was making this far too
easy. Hermione, I spent all morning
shopping, picking out dozens of new outfits.
The least you could do is. Her face hardened.
Absolutely not. She sighed.
If you're going to be difficult about it, fine.
Her eyes immediately narrowed in suspicion.
To be fair, Pansy had never given up a fight that easily
before. You have to make it up to me by
going to lunch, The entire reason she stopped by in the 1st
place. She rolled her eyes.
No, she said, I have to work and Draco packed me one.
Of course he had, but have you eaten it yet?
A muscle in her jaw tightened. If you don't want me to tell
your devotedly overbearing fiance that.
As of she made a show, checking the clock on the wall, almost
2:00. You hadn't eaten lunch.
You will go out with me. It's barely past 130.
She smiled. Preparing your argument for
tonight. Hermione groaned.
Pansy, I'm this close to getting my central legislation passed.
Acquiescence had never tasted so sweet.
I can't wait to hear all about it over lunch.
She sighed. One hour.
She set down the shopping and walked over to the desk.
Yes, yes, back for the bro truffles.
By three she found the lunch Draco had sent, grabbed a scrap
piece of parchment and quill. Please.
Hermione said dryly. Help yourself Tildy, thinking
about you every day. XOXO Pansy, you've got to be
kidding me. Hermione muttered.
Grab the bags, will you? She marched across the hall to
Matilda's office and put the lunch and note on her desk.
It wasn't until they were in the lifts that Hermione peeked into
the bags. Seriously, how much did you are
these wizard robes? She smirked as the lift opened
to the atrium. Come along, glam brambles won't
save themselves and you've got a time crunch.
Hermione stopped next to the obnoxious bronze statue of
herself, Scarhead, and the Weasel that was officially the
longest lasting fountain to grace the Ministry of Magic
Atrium since 1995. Pansy, these are all wizard
robes. She cocked her head.
Yes, I picked some things up for Neville.
She continued, peering into the bags.
We thought it was for me, Hermione.
She walked over and put her hand on her friend's shoulder.
I know it can be difficult for you to remember sometimes.
She threw a pointed glance at the larger than life bronze
statue and earned a glare in reply.
But not everything is always about you.
You were the one who implied you were the one who assumed.
Smirking, she marched towards the row of flus.
We still have to drop those off at the cottage before we can eat
and get you back to save the knifflers.
Hermione huffed as she caught up, somehow still holding onto
all of the bags. One of these days you're going
to bring up a magical creature that does need saving, and when
you're successful, you can personally thank me when you win
your next Order of Merlin. Linking arms, she called out the
address of Neville's cottage and they swept away in green flames.
She finally took the shopping bag from Hermione as they popped
out in Neville's living room. Hermione looked around the room
slowly, eyes examining every item.
You've been here before, right? Hermione nodded.
Looks exactly the same as it always has.
There was just a hint of suspicion in her voice.
That's because you haven't seen the closets.
She said. I'm going to put these down.
Before I forget, there's a book I want to talk to you about.
It's in the top drawer of my night stand in the bedroom.
Would you mind grabbing it? Her eyes immediately brightened.
Of course, it was almost too easy.
Mine's the one with the Mimbulus mimbaltonia on top.
She walked into the guest room. Just in case Hermione managed to
set Mimby off as if it was an afterthought.
She called after her. I might have forgotten to unward
it, but if so, just go ahead and break in.
I don't mind. A minute later, Hermione marched
up to the guest room with her hands on her hips.
Why did you ask me to open a night stand with a blood lock on
it? Damn it, a blood lock?
She walked past Granger at a glare at the night stand.
Mimby was sitting on it. Not a quill out of place.
Of course she liked Granger. Both were bloody overbearing
swats. What the fuck was Neville
Longbottom hiding in there? What's going on?
Granger demanded. Right.
Pansy sighed and leaned against the door.
Oh, it's just this little game we started a while back.
She shot her a look of disbelief.
Pansy smirked. You know, I get into Neville's
secret draw, he gets into my secret draw, if you know what I
mean. Oh.
Hermione said out of academic curiosity.
How would someone get past a blood lock?
No, she said. I'm not getting involved in
whatever this is. She pouted.
Her friend's eyes narrowed. Is that why you asked me to
lunch today? She gasped.
Hermione Granger, I am offended. It was certainly wasn't the only
reason she wanted to see her friend.
Just a convenient time to figure out what her husband was hiding.
If you cared half as much about me as you did about Porlocks, I
wouldn't have to be the only one to extend lunch invitations.
We already have plans for tonight with four other people.
This is just for us. Hermione rolled her eyes but
followed after her for the short walk to the Three Broomsticks.
Good evening, everyone. Pansy strode into Blaze and
Theo's card room with an extra flounce in her step.
Conversation immediately died out.
She slid into the chair next to an open mouthed Theo, generously
allowing Neville the seat between her and Hermione.
Each of her friends stared at Neville like she'd shown up with
a hippogriff instead of her new husband.
Even Blaise arched A brow, his equivalent of Theo's slack jaw.
Neville cleared his throat. Pansy brought me some new
clothes. It was putting it mildly, she
couldn't remember the last time she had had this much fun
picking out men's clothing thanks to her lunch with
Grainger, which only went slightly over her allotted
schedule. She'd only managed to tailor 2
of the outfits so far, but the rest wouldn't take her long
tonight. Neville was in grey robes and
matching grey pants with a buttoned black Oxford
underneath. Between the correct size in
pants and tailored robes, he looked like a completely new
man, well deserving of Theo's open mouth, Blaze's eyebrow, and
Hermione's flushed cheeks. Did she sacrifice a virgin too?
Theo demanded. Neville choked on his own spit
and coughed to clear his throat. She pouted at Theo before
Longbottom gave everything away. Didn't you pay attention to any
of our rehabilitation classes, darling?
She asked. Dark Arts are bad, plus
tailoring is much more effective and much less morally ambiguous.
Hermione muttered something about needing to take Hannah
Abbott more seriously. Theo continued, gaping at her
husband. That is just tailoring.
If his previous wardrobe hadn't been so abysmal, the effects
would be less noticeable. Neville rolled his eyes at her.
She let out a forlorned sigh. He made me wait until after the
wedding to do any updates to his wardrobe.
Theo sat back with a knowing smile.
This finally explains everything he said.
The two of you. The rushed wedding.
You really aren't pregnant, are you?
Neville snorted. She kicked him in the shin
underneath the table. No, is that why it's taken so
long for someone to give me a drink?
Blaise slid one across the table to her and another to Neville.
Pansy scooped up the cards on the table and began reshuffling.
Hey, Hermione said I was actually winning that hand.
No, you weren't. Theo said grinning.
Draco kissed her on top of the head as she pouted.
Pansy finished dealing and Theo started the game off.
Never thought I'd see the day, but apparently Longbottom is a
man of hidden mysteries. Theo said.
First Pansy's comment last week, now this?
He waved his hand at his newly revealed for seek.
But finding out you tricked Pansy into marriage by
preventing her from updating your wardrobe until she did, I'm
impressed. Tricking someone into marriage
seems more of a Slytherin treat. Neville said, as were passive
aggressive snarky comments. She smirked at him, wondering
what are the surprises Longbottom had in store.
Theo gave him a small grin. Grainger, do we possibly have
another Gryffindor Slytherin hat split in your friend group?
Hufflepuff, actually. Neville examined his hand as if
he'd just made the room fall silent for the second time that
night. Sweet Merlin, it was worse than
marrying A Gryffindor. She'd married a Gryffindor who'd
almost been a Hufflepuff. Hermione smiled.
I could see that. She said you've always been a
loyal friend. He gave her a friendly smile in
return, as if being told he was practically A Hufflepuff was a
compliment. Thanks, Hermione.
He glanced at Pansy. You going to play?
Wordlessly, she made her next move, and she tried to process
that fun piece of information. Perils of a quick marriage.
Theo said. You get trapped before you find
out important bits of life altering information.
Neville grunted. Not sure that qualifies.
More passive aggressive snark from one bottom.
Perhaps they were more similar than they thought.
I had a theory for a while that every Gryffindor was a hat
split. Hermione said that you could
only be sorted into Gryffindor by choosing Gryffindor.
That almost makes them harder to tolerate.
Blaise drawled. Hermione chose to ignore him.
She turned to Neville. Honestly, I'm shocked you
managed to hold Pansy off this long.
She said she forced me into shopping within 1/4 of an hour
after we'd first reconnected after school and has been
steadily replacing my wardrobe ever since.
Pansy's gaze flicked up. Name one item I picked out or
designed for you that you haven't liked.
Looking flustered from not paying attention to the game,
Granger made a terrible move. That's not the point.
It's exactly the point, she said.
Fashion isn't supposed to be uncomfortable.
It's supposed to make you feel bold and confident, like you're
presenting the best version of yourself to the world.
You can do that without nice clothes, Hermione said.
Absolutely, she said. Doesn't mean they don't help, as
proven by the man sitting next to her.
He tossed down a winning hand and she blinked.
How is he already better than me?
Hermione demanded. Neville grinned as he stacked
his galleons. Beginner's look.
What a Gryffindor. She should have let the pot get
higher before she played her hand.
Draco was silent, staring at Neville's right hand.
Neville glanced down at his ring and then back up to Draco, a
small smirk tugging his lips. Did you forget?
Yeah. He admitted.
There was something tense in his gaze as he studied Neville.
Hermione glanced between them. Forget what?
Neville held up his right hand. She blinked.
Long buttons are sacred. 28. She asked.
But you're. He started shuffling the deck.
Proud blood traitors, Yes. Why were it?
Theo asked. We never used to, he said.
Obviously wasn't destroyed right away like the Weasley and
Pruitt's rings. So when blood purists started
making the Sacred 28 out to be the glorious Head of Purity, my
grandfather started wearing his. That seemed the least obvious
time for a blood traitor Gryffindor to start flaunting
their status. Probably partly to piss them all
off. He said with a smirk.
But mostly to show that just because you happen to be a pure
blood family doesn't mean you believed you were better than
anyone who wasn't. He started dealing when my
father came of age and Voldemort's first rise was
starting. He started wearing it for the
same reasons he said. So when I turned 17 and my Gran
gave it to me, Ma did the same. No one but Hermione had touched
their cards. Neville grinned.
Worth it every time either of the carols got to look at it.
7th year. From the number of injuries he'd
received from either twin, she couldn't imagine it actually
was. Draco would stop paying
attention to Longbottom. Instead he was staring at her.
Pansy. He said, his voice low and
serious. Were you in trouble?
Are you in danger? Neville stiffened next to her.
Fucking hell, He'd cut to the quick.
Instead of answering him, she leaned over to Neville and
Hermione. In her most serious tone.
She asked. Hermione, are you in trouble?
Her eyes narrowed. She rested her hand on Neville's
chest. My husband knows Harry Potter,
and we can get you help if you need it.
Hermione's glare sharpened. You made your point, Pansy, we
get it. She turned to Draco, who looked
properly chastised. Doesn't it feel too fucking
good, does it? He cleared his throat.
Apologies, Pansy. He nodded to Neville Longbottom.
Neville nodded in return. He glanced at Pansy out of the
corner of his eye, the hint of a smile on his face.
She picked up her hand and shuffled her cards into order.
Now let's see if my husband can cheat his way to another win
before I do. What do you mean, cheat?
Hermione demanded. He was cheating.
Theo chuckled next to her. Brightest Which of the age, my
arse, he muttered under his breath.