The Right by Parks and Fiction Chapter 29 Still laughing at
Neville, Pansy swept past him into the house while he held the
door for her. She fiddled with the clasp on
her cloak, but before she could undo it, Neville came up behind
her and took over. Let me, He said, his warm breath
tickling her ear. Her laughter immediately faded.
Swallowing, she nodded once. The evening had been fun over
wine and food, the awkwardness and anticipation had faded away.
They had just been them. Neville telling stories of his
students, Pansy sharing her most ridiculous customer
interactions, teasing about memories from school.
They lingered over each course and sat talking well after
dessert was done. It wasn't until Neville's hands
lingered across her collar bone as he pulled off her cloak that
she remembered what tonight was supposed to be about.
Swallowing down the Pixies wreaking havoc in her gut, she
turned to him with a smirk. Do I finally get to see if all
that practice deflowering virgins the past month paid off?
He tossed her cloak at the stand, letting the magic of the
cottage hang it up. Turning to her, his lips lifted
into 1/2 grin. You know I don't mind that
you're usually a brat. Understatement of the year.
I thought it made you harder than I could ever possibly
imagine. His smirk spread at his words.
From July. He stepped forward, towering
over her. Oh, I think you have a pretty
good idea of it by now. Reaching up, he wrapped a lock
of her hair around his finger and tugged on it with a soft
smile. For a moment, he looked so much
like his mother that she felt all her defences crumble.
He gazed down at her with a soft but determined look.
Tonight the right. The magic is complex, he said.
I need to take it seriously, and I need you to take it seriously.
So no games tonight? The look he gave her stripped
her, peeling away all the layers she kept up as armour.
She swallowed. What he was asking for was more
intimate than sex itself, with no sarcasm, no brattiness.
She was just her defenceless, open, vulnerable, exposed.
His expression was soft as he stepped closer and ducked his
head to whisper in her ear. Don't think, he said, his breath
tickling her ear. Just feel.
He pressed a kiss to the spot just behind her ear that never
ceased to make her breath catch. His lips trailed across her jaw
in a fiery trail. When he met hers, his kiss was
soft and slow, sweet, gentle. The type of kiss that might have
been there first in a different world, one where she was someone
who deserved him. It was a sobering thought, but
if there was one thing she was good at, it was ignoring
unpleasant things. Neville's kiss was anything but
unpleasant. It was second nature now to
surrender to him completely, to let him lead her back into his
bedroom, to let his fingers search out her zipper and slide
it down before guiding her out of her dress, lips never leaving
hers. Tonight though, he led her
fingers to find the buttons of his shirt, to undo each one and
guide it off his shoulders, to run her hands over his chest, to
feel the strength of his muscles underneath his smooth skin.
It's not midnight yet. She mumbled when his lips
drifted down her neck as he unclasped her bra.
His low chuckle only inflamed the heat that was building in
her core. If you think I'm not going to
take advantage of every minute of foreplay I get, you don't
know me very well at all. That certainly wasn't true, but
the way he used his tongue against her nipple stripped
every word of protest from her mind.
He was as good as his word, stripping her completely and
kissing every inch of her body. Despite how tender and gentle he
was being with her, he was as demanding as ever, building her
pleasure but not letting her fall until he wanted.
Tonight, though, she got to touch him back, run her hands
across the solid muscles of his shoulders, kiss his chest, feel
the flecks of his abdomen under her fingers, lick the dimples on
his back. Their interactions had always
been intense, overwhelming, but she knew how to handle that, how
to handle him, how to break rules and boundaries for her own
amusement, to give them both what they wanted but never
crossed the lines into anything more than just fun.
Tonight was a new kind of intense, one, full of feelings
and emotion. Without the rules, she felt
adrift. Every part of her longed to
drive them back to their usual routine, to antagonise Neville
into taking back control so everything between them could go
back into the little box she'd allowed for them.
But she couldn't, not with what he'd asked, not with her life
and magic and future on the line.
Yet again, she was plunging off a Cliff and hoping Neville would
catch her. So she did as he asked and sank
into the feelings, the sensations.
There was no room for emotion or doubt or questioning the
difference between having sex and making love.
There was just pleasure. Just Neville, his skin against
hers, his fingers, his mouth, drifting across her body,
bringing her to various heights before watching her fall.
She was trying to catch her breath after her second orgasm
when his wand started buzzing. Neville, who snuggled up next to
her after guiding her through the last aftershock, sat up.
He turned to her, an unreadable look in his eyes.
Ready. Half a dozen sarcastic responses
were on the tip of her tongue, but instead she merely nodded.
Using his wand, he drew a small cut across the line on his palm.
He dripped blood into a small bowl.
She held hers out and he repeated the actions, the new
cut just above the faint scarf from where she'd made her blood
oath. Not even Draco's fancy potion
could remove a scar left by blood magic.
Neville met her eyes. You sure?
She nodded. Taking his wand, he dipped it
into their combined blood. The seven runes he needed to
draw began on her forehead and ended below her navel, spaced
out along her midline. She could feel the magic sink
into her body as he drew each one.
It tingled, buzzing underneath her skin like a low pulse of
energy. Neville's features were tight
with concentration as he worked through the task.
There was a nervous determination to him, but an
absolute focus on doing it right.
In that moment, she knew that she would have trusted him no
matter the right her life. Her power in his hands was not
something she feared, and yet, oh, she felt was relief.
Relief that he had found this one, that she hadn't had to ask
him to do something so abhorrent to him as her family's right.
Asking Neville to compromise any part of his ideals was
unconscionable. His convictions in doing what
was right, standing up for his morals, no matter the risk, was
central to who he was. After everything he'd already
given up for her, everything she'd asked of him.
At least he wouldn't have to violate those.
The 7th and final rune sunk into her skin.
Bright blue eyes flicked up to hers.
There's still time, He said, his voice soft.
She kept his face in her hands. Please, Neville, she whispered.
I want this, I want you. His breath caught.
He positioned himself, gazed, never leaving hers, slick from
her previous orgasms. He slid into her just an inch,
but the pressure made her breath catch.
OK. Neville asked, his voice
strained. She nodded.
Keep going. He made a noise that was half
grunt, half grown. He slid in just a bit more and
stopped again. Ponzi.
Neville whispered. As much as she appreciated his
efforts to take things slow and as gentle as possible, she knew
it was going to hurt regardless. Thanks.
To the first ritual. She'd undergone as a baby.
The suspense was almost worse. She wanted him.
Please. Face set, he thrusted forward.
It wasn't more than a sharp pinch, but she couldn't help the
small Yelp that escaped her. No, I'm sorry, Pansy.
His words broke off with a gasp. The pain was forgotten as the
runes Neville had drawn over her body glowed with gold.
She could feel the magic pulsing through them, leaving her skin
tingling. At first she thought the runes
were bright enough to reflect on his skin, but she realised he
was glowing with ruins identical to hers.
A grin, brighter than the gold light across both of their
bodies broke across Neville's face.
It, it worked. Oh fuck.
All she had done was shift a little bit, but that small
action had Neville's eyes rolling in the back of his head.
She tried to correct, but his hand grabbed her hip, forcing
her still. Stop, Just fuck.
He muttered again, hold still. Practically holding her breath,
she froze until he looked back up at her, face alight with the
reflection of their glowing runes.
Slowly, agonisingly, he pushed himself in inch by inch until he
was fully inside her. He dropped his face against her
neck with a low groan. It didn't hurt as much as burn
slightly from the pressure. She felt so fucking full but
needed more. She tried to shift her hips, but
Neville's hand tightened on her hip and he groaned.
Merlin, just hold still. She wasn't sure if she wanted to
laugh or cry, so she bit her lip and tried not to move.
It wasn't as if it mattered now. As soon as the runes glowed on
both of them, all he had to do was come inside her and the
right was complete. But even if she couldn't have
said exactly what it was between them before, it was more than
just saving her and her magic. Neville's gaze met hers with the
tortured look of a man on edge. Are you OK?
Reaching up, she dug her hands into his sandy blonde hair and
nodded. Keep going.
His lips met hers in a searing kiss.
He pulled out and then pushed back in, slow, gentle, as if she
was something he could break. Dominant, controlling Neville
was something. She knew exactly how to handle
this version of him. The man who touched her, kissed
her, held her as if she was something precious.
It shattered something in her, something she'd built,
maintained for years, because buried deep beneath was a truth
she'd refused to acknowledge, let alone admit.
A single tear ran down her cheek, and Neville froze.
Of course he'd seen it. Of course he'd stopped the
moment he did. Bonsie.
His voice was gravely, bordering on desperation.
Do I need to? She shook her head, arms curling
around her shoulders. She wrapped her legs around him,
and they both groaned as he slid even deeper.
The pain and pressure were giving way to a delicious
fullness, and all she wanted was more.
Keep going, she said with a mumbled curse.
He resumed the steady pace of pulling out and sliding back in
again and again and again, building a new, different kind
of pressure within her. Fuck, Barnsey.
He reached down between them, but his fingers on her clit made
her suck in a breath and wince. It was all too overwhelming, the
pressure, the way he moved inside her, the look of tender
care in his gaze. She was seconds away from
splintering, not in bliss, but into a desperation of which she
swore she would never let herself sink.
Too much? Neville asked.
She nodded. In more ways than one.
He changed the angle of his thrusts.
It was still too much and not enough all at once.
And she wanted, needed Ponzi. Her name was more than a moan on
his lips. How can I fuck?
She felt in his thrusts that he was rapidly losing control,
desperate as he seemed for both of them to come together.
It wasn't going to happen. It was all too much all at once.
He swore again as she kissed along his throat, up to his ear.
Come for me, Neville. Fork.
He gasped, snagging his hips. No, I can.
She caught his earlobe in her teeth and tugged gently.
He swore again. Please, Neville, she said.
Make me yours. There was no time to regret the
words, to take them back, explain them away.
Not as he cried out, losing control completely.
She saw the familiar look on his face of his orgasm as he
thrusted as deep as he could go. The magic between them swelled.
It settled, sinking deep down into her skin, a permanent mark
upon her soul. Something within the core of her
magic settled, a gap she hadn't realised was empty until it was
filled, as if a missing piece finally fit into place.
She didn't know if it was from the blood oath or the right her
father had performed as a baby, but for the first time in her
life, some part of her magic finally felt whole.
Settled, but free. She could feel the pulse of
Neville's magical core alongside hers, not the sharp grip of
control, but like a warm hand at the small of her back, ready to
guide or follow, never to force, forever bound but still their
own. Sagging into her embrace.
Neville panted into the crook where her neck met her shoulder.
For a moment, they just lay like that, legs and arms wrapped
around him as he covered her body with his.
When he finally pulled away, sliding out of her with a groan,
he cooked her face. You all here?
She nodded. Your magic.
She smiled. Perfect.
Relief blossomed across his face, and he kissed her, hard
and swift. Thank gods, he said.
I'm so fucking relieved. A small laugh escaped her.
Yeah, me too. He traced the line of her jaw.
I'm sorry I came without you. She couldn't take any of the
overwhelming emotions anymore, so she flashed him a smirk.
Neville Longbutton being quick off the mark is pretty much what
I would have expected. He flicked her nose and she
laughed. Brat.
She grinned at him, sinking back into the comfort of their
familiar banter. You can barely make it 2 minutes
without crying or begging when I edge you.
He said. You try it for months on end and
see how fast you break. Sweet Salazar, the last thing
she needed was him getting more ideas.
She curled up into him. He rested a hand over her heart.
Was that all OK for you? She sighed.
Well, it wasn't the six man orgy I planned for my 25th birthday.
She couldn't help but squeal and giggle as he pinched her side.
Neville dropped back onto the pillows, one hand behind his
head and staring up at the ceiling as she laughed.
As soon as you're ready for it again, I'll prove to you exactly
how not quick off the mark I can be.
He said. She glanced up at him.
If you're OK with it. He added.
You want to? There was a bright, burning
intensity in his gaze. I want to fuck you on every
surface of every room in this cottage, he said.
I have for months. Her heart thundered in her
chest. OK.
He grinned. Yeah.
She shrugged. If you want to try to prove
yourself, you're welcome to try. Even if.
He pinched her side and she burst into laughter once more.
Brat, He muttered again, but his voice was warm, affectionate.
She curled up into him. Thank you, she whispered.
He pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Thank you. He held her for several long
heartbeats. Did I hurt you?
She nodded terribly. He glanced at her, eyebrow
arching the corner of his mouth. Rose wants me to kiss it better.
She shifted, instantly aware of the various fluids between her
thighs. Do you want me to wash up?
He flipped her onto her back and started kissing down her body.
Absolutely not, Neville. She gasped as he bit right above
her hip. It's no different from kissing
you right after you suck me off Awe tasting you.
He said before she'd had a chance to say another word.
His tongue was moving in her favorite way and she lost any
ability of speech. Lawrence's wand moved as he cast
the familiar spell. Instead of the glowing ball
appearing this time, the runes Neville had drawn lit up over
both of their bodies. Laurence's face didn't portray a
single expression. Right is completed successfully.
Neville's hand found hers and squeezed tight.
Relief blossomed through her so swift her eyes burned.
She choked back all of the emotion.
Neither Laurence nor Ivan got to see her tears.
Ivan slammed his hand down on the desk, cursing in Bulgarian.
As the right is now successfully completed, you are no longer
needed. Neville said.
Do not come near my wife again or I will have you arrested.
Ivan turned to Lawrence, face twisted, but Lawrence held up
his hand. Before Lawrence could speak,
Neville cut him off as well. Your services are no longer
required, he said. I will be finding a new
solicitor to manage the Parkinson estate as well as my
own. I also expect to never see you
again. Lawrence settled back.
I may no longer be your solicitor, but I remain Mr.
Dimitrovs. That no longer has any relevance
to me or my. Wife.
On the contrary. Lawrence said Pansy's heart
sank. Of course, of course, even after
everything, it still wasn't fucking over.
Neville's grip on her hand tightened nearly to the point of
pain. Still, she didn't want to let
him go. The right is completed.
Bansi is my wife in every way and the Parkinson estate is
under my. Full control.
Mr. Darmitov is still your wife's guardian, he said.
If he discovers fraud, or if you fail to sufficiently protect or
provide for her, he is entitled to sue for breach of contract.
Fuck, they were never going to let this go.
He cannot Lord over her her entire life, Neville spat.
His duties will expire and your wife will be your sole
responsibility once she has borne you an heir.
Or if it can be. Proven that she cannot.
Give you. One, he said.
At which point you will be well within your rights to divorce
her, and Mr. Dimitov will bear no responsibility to her either.
There was no value in a witch who couldn't perform her most
sacred duty. Speaking of for your wife's
protection, of course, it is important to note that while the
succession clause can be invoked as early as 13 months after the
wedding takes place, that is under the assumption that the
marriage is consummated on the wedding night.
He said. Since we know your marriage was
not consummated until last evening, the 13 months starts
today. Her stomach dropped.
The 13 months she'd promised Neville had just turned into 23.
Almost an entire year more of being married to her.
Neville's near palpable fury made her stomach sink further.
Because either one of you give a fuck about her protection.
He snarled. Lawrence's smirking gaze was
half malicious, half triumphant. It is of mine and Mr. Dimitrov's
utmost concern, he said in line with that.
I should mention. That if you try to invoke the
succession clause and your wife has been found to have used a
contraceptive, tonic or charm at any point over the 13 month
period, not only will your request be denied, but Mr.
Dimitov will be able to sue for breach of contract.
Of course he fucking would. Ivan was openly smirking now.
One misstep and she was his again.
Or her money. She suspected that was what this
had really been about the entire time.
Not only was she no longer a virgin, she was permanently
bound to a known blood traitor. Both made her worthless in
circles, which Ivan belonged. Plus with the right and the
blood oath now fulfilled, he had no way of controlling her.
You honestly think you would be successful at that?
Neville demanded. With the support and connections
I have, I would think twice. Considering the magic you
performed last evening, you are the one who.
Needs to think twice. Before involving any of your
ministry. Friends, Laurence said.
Neville stiffened with a sharp. Inhale obviously, Mr. Dmitov,
and I wish nothing more than your wife's happiness.
He said. But if it comes down to it, I
would prepare to settle between the four of us rather than allow
the. Public to find out how far one
of their. Great Heroes has fallen.
Pansy's stomach rolled. It wouldn't come down to that.
She would make sure they never came after Neville.
Is there anything else? She asked before any further
threats were issued. Lawrence's eyes didn't leave
Neville's, not for now. With a loud crack, Neville
desapurated them directly from the office back home to the
cottage. He dropped her arm as soon as
they landed and started pacing, trying not to let his rage and
lack of desire to be close to her sting.
She sat on the couch, wrapping her arms around herself.
That fucker. Neville spat.
She didn't. Ask which one, probably.
Both. Still, Lawrence was clearly the
brains of the duo. What did he get out of it?
A cut of whatever Ivan managed to take from her.
Should we just pay them off? She asked.
Nor he spat. Neither of them are getting a
single Knut. All it'll make them do is ask
for more next time. It was generally how blackmail
schemes worked. Still, there was a part of her
that couldn't help but hope there was a quick way to be done
with this all, at least the shop.
Was doing well. While she still hadn't made-up
the funds that she'd spent purchasing the building, between
the value of the real estate and improvements Tori had made to
the building, the Parkinson's estate was worth far more than
it had been a year ago. Draco had less.
Money than she did. Everything Daphne owned was tied
up in her father's control and would be stripped away as soon
as Tory and Dennis eloped. She couldn't ask them for help.
Not the Tory's cure. So close.
I could sell the building to Theo or Blaise, she said.
Rent out from them until I have enough to buy it back.
You're not selling, Neville snapped.
Tory said the Manor is almost done.
She said If we sell, I said we aren't giving them any money.
Neville yelled. She stared down at her hands.
I'm sorry. Her voice was little more than a
whisper. This isn't your fault.
Everything happening to her was her father's fault, but Neville
should never have been involved in any of it.
She was the one who dragged him, practically tricked him into her
mess. I want to know what that slimy
bastard gets out of this, he said.
He's obviously telling Ivan what to do.
She didn't look up from her lap. What do you want to do?
What are you talking about? The right is completed, she
said. If my magic is safe, you can.
We don't know what will happen if Ivan claims we breach the
contract, he said. I'm not willing to risk that.
She glanced up, trying to gauge his reaction.
So 13 more months of this? He was studying her almost as
intently as she was trying to read him.
I'm mad at them, not at you, Pansy.
Did it matter if the outcome was the same either way?
He was locked into another 13 months of marriage.
He didn't want we. I mean, this has been OK, right?
He asked us living together. What exactly was he asking?
Yeah. Another year.
It won't be so bad, will it? You're the one who put your
whole life on hold to help me. Merlin, he hadn't even asked for
a single fucking thing. No gold, no favours.
All he was getting in return was the wedge she'd driven between
him and his friends. I was happy to fucking
Gryffindor. You weren't at the beginning.
His lips twitched. You weren't particularly happy.
I was your last choice either, if I recall, Neville.
I would have married Horace Slughorn if it would have saved
my magic. His forehead creased.
Blood. Traitors really weren't taught
anything. He's Sacred 28 as well.
His lips twitched. If I'd gone to the Three
Broomsticks on the Saturday after you met up with me, would
I have missed you trying to seduce him?
She snorted. You wouldn't let children of
former Death Eaters into his precious club.
No way that man would ever consider putting his close
personal friendship with Harry Potter on the line for the woman
who offered him up to the Dark Lord.
He was too Slytherin for that. Neville walked across the room
and sat next to her, leaving almost a foot of space between
them. I'm in this Pansy.
He said whatever it takes until you're free.
OK? Throat too tight for words, she
nodded. Free from him so he could go off
and be with who he truly wanted. There's no pressure.
He said. Either way.
About, you know, stuff between us.
She arched an eyebrow. I mean, obviously we can't, you
know, but we could still. Somewhere between the swirling
mess of emotions, laughter rose, and she fought off her
hysterics. How can a man who enjoys
spanking his partners be so flustered talking about sex?
He sighed. The slightest note of his
aspiration sobered her. So back to the way things were.
Until next April. There was something in his eyes
she couldn't quite read. He nodded.
Yeah, he said. Only if you're OK with that.
Yeah, she said. I am OK.
OK. It was the safest outcome for
her, but she couldn't explain why it left such a bitter taste
in her mouth.