All Kinds of Directions

Pansy rolled over to the edge of her bed, sat up and thunked her head against the bed post a few times in frustration. She couldn’t sleep. It was almost midnight, but Pansy’s brain wouldn’t shut up, and it was dwelling mostly on things she’d rather not contemplate.

As if it wasn’t bad enough that her brain kept on thinking, her heart kept on feeling. It was horrible… she didn’t know how all those insane Gryffindors put up with it. Pansy was about ready to extract the bloody thing from her chest with the first available tool, most likely a shard from the mirror she’d shattered earlier that evening in a fit of rage. It was probably just as well that Potter’s pet house-elf had cleared away the pieces and replaced it with another mirror charmed to be unbreakable.

Finally, after giving herself a mild headache—but sadly not concussing herself into blissful unconsciousness—Pansy got up, removed her nightgown and pulled on some comfortable clothes. If she couldn’t sleep, she could at least go to the potions lab in the basement and accomplish something. She’d been talking with the Weasley twins about some things Potter had requested they try to create, and she was curious to see if one particular potion was as plausible as she suspected.

Pansy had reluctantly admitted to herself that Potter was preparing to fight dirty against the Dark Lord—and she grudgingly admired him for it. He’d even convinced his blushing bride to teach the rest of Dumbledore’s Army a hex she’d altered into something so nasty that even Pansy was struck dumb. The Weasleyette was definitely not someone Pansy wanted to cross wands with, ever.

Pansy pulled on some shoes and walked to her door, retrieving her wand from beneath her pillow on the way. She slipped out her door, closed it and muttered the activation to her own personal protective hexes; the other members of the D.A. hadn’t tried to hurt her or prank her yet, but there was no sense taking the chance. She knew many of them still didn’t trust her.

Pansy paused as she put her wand into her pocket. Did I just think ‘the other members of the D.A.? Bloody hell, that’s not a good sign…

Or maybe it was a good sign. The more Pansy thought about her recent conversation with Ginny Weasley, the more she was forced to admit that Weasley was right—Pansy truly did want Potter’s side to win the war. Pansy hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said that if she’d followed Draco to the Dark Lord, she’d have the Dark Mark by now—she’d be branded a slave. And no matter what, Pansy would not—could not—have survived as a slave.

Pansy had no doubt that Potter, Granger and their Weasley lovebirds trusted her. Some of the others were coming around, too. It was an odd feeling to trust someone… Pansy kept mistrusting the inclination, ironically. She hadn’t realized it until joining with Potter, but she’d never really trusted anyone in her life. Not Draco, even though she’d been willing to go to such extremes for him. Not even her parents—at least, not since she’d been a child—and that had proven to be wise. Every one of her ‘friends’ at Hogwarts was a potential knife between her ribs, literally as well as figuratively, if she’d proven to be a less than perfect pureblood.

Until she’d been immersed in a house full of Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, she’d never felt safe enough to drop her guard. It scared her to realize that that was what she’d done, but truthfully, almost no guile existed among the other members of the D.A. Those who hated or mistrusted Pansy made it damned obvious, and those who trusted her said so. Potter had stated his intention to exploit Pansy’s Slytherin qualities in the war so baldly that she had been caught completely off guard—in fact she couldn’t help but be mildly impressed, to a degree. It was what had convinced her that Potter’s side had at least a slim chance of actually winning.

Pansy hadn’t told anyone, but she was frankly astounded at the success of Potter’s troupe. Neither the Ministry nor the Order of the Phoenix had managed to eliminate so many Death Eaters in such a short span of time; even under Dumbledore’s leadership, the Order hadn’t had that kind of success, not even during the first war. And the fact that they’d only lost one person—and MacMillan hardly counted as a loss—while capturing Severus Snape and killing Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange was frankly unbelievable.

Pansy’s heart clenched in a funny way when she thought about Bellatrix. Not because of the evil, sadistic and thankfully dead bitch herself, but because thinking of Bellatrix meant thinking of Neville Longbottom. He was the only other member of the D.A. besides their four intrepid leaders that Pansy suspected had trusted her completely. There wasn’t a drop of guile or misdirection in Neville at all: everything he thought, everything he believed, everything he was, was laid out for the world to see. He was braver than anyone Pansy had ever met, even Potter, and contrary to what she’d believed throughout their time at Hogwarts he wasn’t stupid.

She felt a bit guilty to remember Neville’s wariness around her, knowing she’d earned it with more than six years of taunts and jibes that hadn’t ended when they’d left school, not even when they’d been on the same side, not even when they’d been infrequent bedmates. Some of the things she’d said to him over the years had been truly cruel, and Neville’s kindness to her despite all of it twisted her gut with shame.

Pansy thunked her head on her door, hard. She hated thinking like that. She’d never cared what other people thought of her or if they trusted her before. But ever since she’d committed to ‘following her heart’ to Draco—a monumental mistake, as it had turned out—she’d been… feeling. The Weasleyette had been right; once Pansy had started it was impossible to stop, like an addict going back for more. It hurts! she wailed mentally, bringing her head down against the wood again. It’s made me weak, it’s lost me my family, my fortune, my life! Every instinct I have in screaming at me not to fall into that trap! So why the hell don’t I want it to STOP?

“Pansy? Are you okay?”

Pansy’s head snapped up and her eyes went huge and round—a few doors down the hall was Neville Longbottom. He was standing halfway inside his door and regarding her nervously. “Neville?”

“Yeah,” Neville said sheepishly. “Um, doesn’t that hurt? Your forehead looks a bit, you know, bruised…” Pansy just stared, and Neville flushed. “Sorry, it’s none of my business. By the way, I never got the chance to thank you. For, um, what you did that night. We probably all saved each other’s lives, but you helped protect my parents—”

“You’re not Neville,” Pansy growled, clenching her teeth. Right when I’m thinking about him? What the hell is this?

“What?”

“You’re not Neville,” Pansy repeated furiously, storming over and pointing a finger threateningly at Neville’s nose. “Whoever you are, go and tell Potter that’s not bloody funny! It’s sick, it’s cruel—”

“Pansy, it—it really is me,” Neville stammered. “We, uh… we did… you know, it… twice,” he said, dropping his voice to a murmur. “Once in the basement my first day here and once more later, in my room—that was my idea. You, um…” he swallowed. “You were wearing dark red knickers, and you, you were going to leave after but I said you could stay and you fell asleep…”

“You—you remember,” Pansy said in shock.

“Well, I’m, um, not likely to forget that…”

“No, I mean you remember,” Pansy said faintly. “You—you’ve got your memory back!”

“Oh… yeah,” Neville said nervously. “I guess Harry hasn’t, um, spread the word yet. Some Death Eaters tried to grab me this afternoon, and Harry and some of the others saved me… They decided it was too dangerous to leave me as I was any more, so they brought me back to try and restore my memories. They finally made it work about two hours ago… Harry’s been filling me in on some of what I missed—” Neville’s explanation was cut short when Pansy threw her arms around his neck, almost knocking him off his feet, and pressed her lips to his.

They had never kissed before. Pansy considered a kiss a deeper level of intimacy even then shagging, for it suggested an emotional attachment—you could shag someone simply to satisfy carnal desires, but a kiss was a connection on a far more personal level. Pansy had always felt that and always believed it. The only person she’d ever kissed in any way other than purely platonically was Draco, and she was never going to do that again, not if he got down on his knees in front of everyone she knew and begged for forgiveness.

Pansy wasn’t sure what she was doing, but it didn’t stop her from almost knocking Neville over with the force of her body. He stumbled back into his room, and an instinctive thought made Pansy reach out with her foot and kick the door closed.

Neville finally got over his surprise and pulled away from Pansy. He stepped back until he was a couple paces away and stared, open-mouthed and a bit out of breath. “Wh—what was that for?” he gasped. “You—I—we—”

“Neville,” Pansy said quietly, “what do you think of me?”

“I—what do you mean?” he asked, his brow wrinkling in honest confusion.

“I mean, what do you think of me?” Pansy repeated angrily. “Do I disgust you? Do you trust me? Or am I just another Slytherin that you indifferently hate?” She stalked right up to him and glared furiously into his eyes. “I know you couldn’t lie if your life depended on it. I know I’ll get an honest answer. What do you think of me?”

Neville’s mouth worked silently for a minute as his mind apparently tried to catch up to Pansy’s question. Finally he licked his lips, probably recognizing Pansy’s taste. “I don’t hate you,” he said slowly. “And you don’t disgust me! Um, for a long time I might not have said that,” he admitted, sounding a bit ashamed. “You know, during school. But I think it’s kind of stupid to hold grudges. The last few months you’ve proven what kind of person you are, a lot more than anything else you’ve done. I think you really want to be a good person, and I, um, I like you.”

“You like me,” Pansy echoed. She searched Neville’s face for any hint of guile, but it was like she’d thought… Neville showed nothing but the plain truth.

She threw herself at him again, and this time Neville’s legs hit the edge of his bed and they toppled onto the mattress together. Pansy teased Neville’s lips with her tongue until they parted, and pressed forward into his mouth. Neville squeaked and his hands scrabbled on the bed as if he wanted to pull himself out from under her, but there was no mistaking the reaction Pansy felt pressing insistently into her thigh.

Pansy finally sat up and began tugging at Neville’s robes. “Pansy—listen, I’ve only just gotten back,” Neville said hoarsely.

“Welcome back,” Pansy muttered as she started undoing Neville’s trousers. “Now just…just don’t tell me to stop, understand?”

“I—” Neville looked even more surprised, but didn’t say anything else while Pansy practically tore off the rest of his clothes. Pansy stared at Neville’s aroused body and realized with a start that it was the first time she’d seen Neville without clothes on; each of their previous shags had been intense and quick—too quick to bother with complete nudity.

Neville wasn’t much to look at. He had lost a bit of weight and gained a bit of muscle since joining the D.A. back in early August, but he was still slightly pudgy, both in his cheeks and around his middle. His hair was a mess and should have been cut and styled weeks ago, and he apparently hadn’t ever learned the proper way to shave. Except for his general lack of dirt—barely true, considering where he worked—by Pansy’s standards, Neville was a slob.

That should have mattered to Pansy—it should have stung her pride that she was shagging someone like that. She suspected it did, somewhere down inside, where her pride of her pureblood lineage and smug arrogance at her aristocratic beauty held on to her instincts. But right at that moment she didn’t care about any of it; all she knew was that Neville trusted her and liked her and was a decent person and a damned good shag, and she wanted him like she’d never wanted anyone or anything in her life.

Neville inhaled sharply when Pansy raked her nails down his exposed chest. It seemed to make up his mind for him, because he began raising Pansy’s shirt; she obliged by lifting it over her head and tossing it aside. She hadn’t bothered to put on a bra, not thinking anyone would be around to notice at midnight; Neville certainly didn’t seem to mind, reaching up and cupping her breasts lightly in his large, surprisingly soft hands. Pansy gasped in shocked delight at the gentle caress, but she wasn’t in the mood for tenderness—not with a need driving her like thunder before the storm.

She fell forward, again locking her lips to Neville’s and forcing his hands harder against her skin, whimpering with desire as his strong fingers pressed into her flesh. His hands moved only so he could wrap his arms around he and pull her body to his, so her nipples, already aching painfully, rubbed and pressed against Neville’s chest. His hands, which until that night Pansy had never given a moment’s thought to, seemed to be everywhere, touching her exactly right, igniting her further with every brush of a fingertip.

Then those hands were on her waist, and Pansy unconsciously raised her hips so he could push her skirt down along with her knickers; a bit of wriggling on her part and the skirt and knickers were shoved to the corner of the bed, leaving her finally as naked as Neville.

Her legs fell to either side of him, and it was Neville’s turn to whimper as the hot, moist warmth of her cunt pressed against his cock, the neatly-trimmed hairs tickling his glans. She drew away from him, dragging his lower lip in her teeth for a moment before letting go, sat up and reached to her skirt for her wand. “Pansy?” Neville asked, his voice sounding plaintive.

Pansy looked down at him, feeling a fear building in her—was she really about to do what every nerve and instinct was screaming for? She slid back so she could see Neville’s hard, magnificent cock; she waved her wand and tapped its tip to Neville’s, and muttered a spell she’d thought she’d never cast—not for many years yet—even though she knew it by heart; the Anti-Pregnancy Charm.

Neville stared in shock as the tell-tale glitter settled into his cock. “Wh—what—” he stammered.

“Don’t,” Pansy snapped, fighting back what, against all logic, felt like sobs welling in her chest. “Not a word!” And as Neville’s eyes widened, she lifted her hips, positioned the head of Neville’s cock at the entrance of her cunt, and thrust down upon it.

Tearing pains shot through Pansy’s midsection as her hymen was torn. Not just in her cunt, but through her thighs, up into her middle and through her breasts so even her nipples felt stung. She’d known it would hurt—known it would hurt, but hadn’t really understood. How could anyone really understand, and willingly accept that kind of pain? Pansy cried out, her limbs unable to support her, and fell forward, tears searing her cheeks. Neville’s cock pulsed inside her, and the expansion only caused another stab of pain to erupt.

“Pansy!” Neville gasped, trying to lift up on his elbows. “Why—are, are you—?”

Pansy pushed herself up on shaking arms, and stared tearfully at Neville’s anxious face. “It hurts,” she whimpered, digging her fingers into his skin. “I d-didn’t think it would hurt—like this—!”

Neville sat up, and the jostling forced another sob from Pansy. “Put your arms around me,” he pleaded, and Pansy couldn’t think of anything to do but obey.

Neville grasped Pansy’s bum and sat up slowly, careful not to penetrate her further or to let himself withdraw. He laid her down tenderly and braced himself on his arms so he was above her. He gazed down at her with what looked like pity. “Tell me when you can handle it,” he said gently. “I’ll go slow.”

The delicate words brought Pansy back to herself; what did he think she was, a withering flower? “I can handle anything,” she snarled. She grasped both his forearms and locked eyes with him. “What are you waiting for?” she asked, her tone full of challenge.

Neville had clearly learned to read Pansy, at least a little; he didn’t ask her if she was certain, a sure way of infuriating her. He did, however, begin slowly, withdrawing until just the tip of his cock was still inside before agonizingly sliding back in.

Pansy carefully regulated her breathing, and kept her gaze fixed on Neville’s. There was something happening that she couldn’t name; the closest word she knew to it was challenge. The agony of his cock spreading up into her, into her cunt, his weight pressing her into the mattress, the sliding of his skin against her thighs, was all a part of it, and it was agonizing in another way.

But the pain was fading rapidly. Too rapidly—how could it dissipate that fast? Had it really hurt that much to begin with? She wasn’t sure it had. She didn’t believe the intensity of her tears was in accordance with the degree of her pain. The tears had been enhanced, multiplied, by… something else. Something besides her virginity had been broken.

And as the pain faded the need roared back, if anything more intense, more demanding than before.

Her legs spread further. “Merlin—!”

Her heels pulled against his back. “Yes…”

Her fingers dug into his biceps. “More…”

Her hips rose to meet his. “Please—!”

Her vision seemed to narrow like a tunnel until she could only see Neville’s eyes, and her need built and his thrusts grew stronger and her orders and pleas became wordless cries…

Then she was sobbing again, and this time she could feel the release, not just in her cunt or her clit or her nipples, not even only within her heart, not even only within her body. Neville’s thrusts grew more erratic, until he buried himself within her, arching his back and lunging forward and letting out a sound that Pansy couldn’t even begin to accept was emerging from a human throat.

He collapsed, exhausted, atop her; she felt crushed, suffocated, and yet she didn’t want him to move. Her quivering arms went around him and she drew him even closer until she could feel the thud-thud of his heart against her chest. Her body felt heavy with fatigue, but she stubbornly clung to consciousness, because she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been awake and felt so free.

Sadly, reality invaded her thoughts rapidly; as the bliss of her orgasm faded she realized her cunt ached, not unlike a migraine, and that was a nauseating comparison. She felt stretched and raw in places up inside herself that she hadn’t truly known existed. “Neville,” she murmured, her voice slightly slurred, “I need to—I need you out of me.”

Neville scrambled to comply, but to Pansy’s shock he was as gentle when withdrawing as he’d been in the midst of her pain. He moved so slowly that the pain barely flared, and when he slid out of her she had to bite back a whimper; she’d been too full, but now she was too empty. Almost fearful of what she’d see, Pansy looked down at her cunt.

Blood. Probably not a lot for the circumstances, but enough. It was on the sheets, and Neville’s cock. Pansy stared, transfixed. She’d known, but until she’d seen it… shuddering a bit, she groped for her wand amidst the sheets. “Are you okay?” Neville asked anxiously.

“No, I’m not okay!” Pansy snapped, feeling a bit panicked. “I’ve got blood all over me!”

“Oh…” Neville leaned off the bed and retrieved his wand from his trousers. He waved it and murmured a Cleaning Charm, and Pansy winced slightly as the blood vanished from her skin. Neville did the same Charm to remove the blood from the sheets, and from his softening penis.

“Thanks,” Pansy muttered, feeling a bit embarrassed at her reaction; it wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen copious amounts of blood in her life. But it had never been hers.

“Um, no problem,” Neville muttered.

The silence stretched out, growing more uncomfortable with each passing second. Pansy felt compelled to modestly draw her legs together. Finally Neville spoke; “Pansy? What just happened?”

“I would’ve thought it was obvious!”

Neville flushed. “I didn’t mean it like that, I meant… It was, er, different than the other times…”

He was right, of course; up until that night Pansy had vehemently prevented the loss of her virginity. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Pansy demanded, feigning ignorance.

Neville didn’t fall for it. “I think you know,” he said quietly. “You were always so adamant about not doing it… the way we just did. What changed?”

Pansy didn’t know the answer—she wasn’t sure what was different herself. “What difference does it make?” she snapped, feeling disturbingly open.

“To me? I… er, I’m not sure,” Neville said delicately. “I think that depends on what difference it makes to you.”

Pansy scowled; that answer had been very Slytherin. “It makes no bloody difference to me whatsoever,” she denied haughtily.

Neville worried his lower lip, clearly unsure whether he should push his luck. “Harry told me… that Draco’s here in the house,” he said tentatively. “And I doubt you’d be here if he had—”

“What the hell do you want me to say, Longbottom?” Pansy shrieked; her usual firm control of her emotions, already stretched thin by the events of the last few days, had eroded to almost nothing. She felt like she might explode in a storm of destruction—or start crying again and be unable to stop. “My life is over! Once my parents decide they haven’t a chance of ‘rehabilitating’ me, they’ll disown me! No pureblood will touch me once that happens—I won’t be considered a pureblood any longer! And the one person who I thought gave a shit about me said it disgusts him that he ever touched me! So what difference does it make if I’m a virgin on my theoretical wedding night?”

Neville was leaning back so far it looked like he might fall off the bed. “Uh…”

“Not to mention that I’m completely penniless now!” Pansy went on; all her rage and frustration had begun to pour out and she couldn’t stop it—she didn’t want to stop it. “I’m smart enough to know that I don’t know how to survive in the world without money, assuming I live through the war, which I know is a pipe dream!”

“But—”

“And if you think I’m going to tell you that it means something I gave you my virginity when I wouldn’t give it Draco, think again! I will not spend the rest of my life comparing my every action with what my life was like with Draco fucking Malfoy!”

In the ringing silence Pansy realized with horror that she hadn’t actually denied that giving her virginity to Neville meant anything. Neville, if he noticed, didn’t mention it; “Then why did you just sleep with me?” he asked, sounding hurt. “Is it because I’m not Draco, and I’m… available? Because you knew I was more likely to go along with it because we’d done it before? I didn’t like being a convenience before, and I like it even less now!”

“No!”

Neville raised his eyebrows. “No, what?”

Pansy paused; why had she shouted that? “You… you weren’t a convenience,” she said hesitantly.

“You told me—”

“You were before,” Pansy interrupted hotly, “but not now, all right?”

Neville looked surprised. “Really? But then, if it wasn’t just convenience…”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Weren’t you waiting for me to tell you how meaningful this all is?” she sneered.

Neville’s face went carefully blank. “I think I get it,” he said coldly.

My sharpness hurt him, Pansy realized. She felt an unfamiliar pang. It’s so much easier for me to hurt him. Why did I never notice it hurting me as well? “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say,” she muttered, feeling awful and hating feeling.

“You don’t have to say anything else,” Neville replied stiffly. “But I’d appreciate it if you left; I’m really tired.”

Pansy watched as Neville turned away and reached for his clothes; she didn’t like feeling so helpless. “I mean, I don’t know how to explain what’s in my head,” she said wretchedly. “It’s a lot easier to just snap out something sharp. I don’t…. I don’t understand what’s going on with me; everything I’ve always been is being taken away and all that’s left is weird and uncomfortable! And I know I said I don’t want to keep comparing everything to the past, but how can I not notice that in my entire life Draco was never as nice to me as you’ve been in a few months—!”

Pansy slapped her hand over her mouth. Oh, FUCK, I didn’t want to say that!

Neville had stopped moving when Pansy started talking. “It feels weird for you, doesn’t it? To tell the truth?” he asked dully. “Well, sorry if I’m not shocked that I’m a bit nicer than Draco Malfoy—”

Apparently Neville’s words could hurt her as much as hers could hurt him. “It’s a shock to me!” she shouted. “I’ve known Draco my entire life! We’re cut from the same cloth! He was supposed to respect me—I’ve known since we were children that we were intended for each other! But the second he hears I’m not panting after a Dark Mark, he acts like the previous seventeen years meant nothing! But you… I treated you like scum, like a squib—or worse, because you’re a pureblood; for six years you were nothing to me but the butt of our jokes! And despite that you’ve shown me more respect than Draco ever did! And I’m more comfortable around you, and I feel safer with you than I ever did with him, and that’s just wrong!”

“Well maybe it’s because I’m a decent person and Draco Malfoy is an evil self-centered prat!” Neville shouted back.

“That’s not the point!” Pansy shot back. “Draco had every reason to trust me and doesn’t, and you have no reason to trust me and do! It makes no sense!”

Neville slumped a bit; he rubbed his forehead, like he had a headache, and Pansy felt the bizarre impulse to massage his temples. “People change, Pansy,” he said, sounding tired. “And you have changed a lot. At least I think so, because I didn’t know you in school—not that I really know you now, either. But what a person does says a lot more about who they are than anything else, and the last few months you’ve done some really great things. I think that even in spite of your saying a lot of cruel things, you’re figuring out now that you want to be a good person. And except for occasionally speaking without thinking, you’re doing okay at it; most of the time since I joined Dumbledore’s Army, I’ve liked being around you.”

Pansy shook her head in disbelief, unable to believe what she was hearing. “Despite all the horrible things I’ve done to you—”

“Well, you never really did anything horrible,” Neville pointed out delicately. “You just said things. The only things you’ve done to me—” he paused, and seemed to realize how that sounded, because he blushed bright red. “I mean, done for me, was help protect my parents, help the D.A. in the war… Those are the kinds of things that really show what kind of person you are. All the cruel comments are just instinct, and I know instinct is hard to give up.” He smiled nervously. “I think the person you’re… um, going to be, is really great.”

Pansy dropped her eyes; she felt the blush creep over her face and chest. Why the hell did he have to go and say that? “You don’t know that.”

“No… but you don’t know you won’t be, either…”

Pansy’s fear came bubbling up again, and this time she couldn’t hold it back. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” she demanded, raising her head to glare at Neville, and to her disgust she felt tears welling in her eyes again. “I’ve always known what my life would be like, mostly because I knew who I was! Now that who I was is gone, I have no idea what to expect any more!” She shuddered reflexively. “It’s—I’m completely disoriented, and thinking about it makes me feel sick…”

“It’s scary,” Neville agreed calmly. “But I think that’s how most people feel, most of the time.” He smiled weakly. “Welcome to normal life.”

“I’m just thrilled,” Pansy grumbled.

“It can be really good, not knowing,” Neville insisted. “When I joined up with the D.A. this summer, I thought everything about it would be… Well, would be no fun. I thought we wouldn’t have time for anything but the war, not even each other. But there’s been some great stuff that I wouldn’t give up for anything—” He paused, and then frowned. “Well, unless I thought I had a good chance of getting them back,” he amended.

Pansy flushed again. “That was really… selfless of you to let Potter Obliviate you,” she said awkwardly. “Misguided, but brave. Very Gryffindor.”

Neville grinned self-consciously. “Thanks, I think.”

“So long as it doesn’t become a habit.”

“I don’t think I’ll get addicted to Memory Charms,” Neville said with surprisingly heavy irony. “Anyway, why would you care if I was Obliviated a hundred times? There were a couple times I thought you were going to do it yourself.”

Pansy had to drop her eyes again. She seemed to be blushing an inordinate amount. “I would never do that,” she whispered. “Not to you.”

Neville opened his mouth. Then he closed it, collected himself and tried again. “Why?”

“Because I save my retribution for people who deserve it,” Pansy muttered defensively. “And anyway, for some insane reason I’m uncomfortable with the thought that you wouldn’t remember… what we’ve done. When Potter Obliviated you it upset me more than I thought it would.”

“Why?” Neville asked again.

“I don’t know, all right? I just don’t like the idea!”

Pansy risked a glance up. Neville was giving her a very penetrating look. “Um, Pansy? Did you mean what you said… about feeling comfortable around me?”

Damn, he noticed. “Well up until this conversation, maybe,” she said sullenly, trying to prevent herself from blushing even worse.

Neville laughed nervously. “Yeah, it has been kind of embarrassing…”

“Kind of?” Pansy retorted, but she smiled a bit; Neville smirked back at her. “Oh, piss off,” Pansy said with a laugh, and smacked him in the arm. Then she froze. “Did I just playfully swat you?” she asked.

“Er… yeah, I think so.”

“Why the hell did I do that?”

Neville actually rolled his eyes. Pansy was sure she’d never seen him roll his eyes. “Maybe because you’re relaxed?”

“If so, I blame it entirely on you.”

“I can live with making you relaxed and comfortable.”

Pansy snorted. “I know I make you relaxed. After you come you’re so relaxed you’re practically dead.”

Neville went beet red. “Um, speaking of which, you’re still pretty much naked…”

Pansy grinned. “Oh, I see… Up for another round, are you?” she leered, crawling forward and taking Neville’s cock in her hand, which jumped at the attention.

“Th—that wasn’t what I meant,” Neville squeaked. “But, but I wouldn’t mind!”

“I don’t doubt it,” Pansy chuckled, bringing her mouth close enough to Neville’s cock that it twitched when her breath heated the skin. “You wouldn’t mind doing this regularly, would you? Shagging me any time, any place? Plunging your cock into me every day, or every night—”

Neville gasped as Pansy’s tongue flicked off his tip. “I think you want to more than me,” he groaned.

Pansy froze. “What the hell do you mean by that?” she shouted, sitting up quickly; her heart had started hammering violently.

Neville’s eyes widened at Pansy’s outburst. “Just that… you keep coming back to me,” he said cautiously.

“For the sex,” Pansy replied instantly. She was blushing again, damn it! “You’re a good shag, that’s all!”

“Uh huh,” Neville said, but his voice made it clear he was unconvinced. Before Pansy could reply, Neville cupped her face in his hands, leaned in and kissed her.

Unlike the one Pansy had initiated, this kiss was unhurried—almost relaxed. She’d never receive such a gentle, undemanding kiss—not surprising, considering the only other person she’d locked lips with. She didn’t understand why, but the press of Neville’s lips made Pansy’s brain derail—was he using magic on her?

When Neville finally pulled away, Pansy had to bite back a whimper of disappointment. Her stomach was churning; she felt confused, aroused, afraid, and hurt for some reason. And excited. Mostly excited. What the hell? “I don’t understand,” she said softly.

Neville smiled nervously. “How about this,” he suggested. “This time, when we shag… if you feel something, don’t ignore it. Don’t pretend it’s not there. And then see what happens.”

Pansy’s eyes met Neville’s, and she shivered. Her instincts and her body were telling her that she liked Neville’s suggestion. A lot.

She knew that if she thought about it too much, she would stop herself, say something biting, make some excuse, and she decided in that instant that she didn’t want to do that. So she did the only thing that seemed even vaguely right to her bewildered senses: she grabbed Neville and kissed him back. Not desperately like earlier, and not softly like a moment before, but somewhere in between. To her delight, Neville circled his arms around her and pulled their bodies together; she felt his cock growing hard against her, but it was nothing compared to the arousal she was feeling.

She pulled back, breaking the kiss, and looked Neville right in the eye. She was surprised by how shy she felt. “Yeah, okay,” she said. “I’ll give that a try.” Then she kissed him again.