Love Me, If You Dare

Chapter Two
The Boy Who Failed To Woo A Slytherin

“You, dear.” Pansy said, smiling in such a way that Draco couldn’t help but snort and push her away. “You see, I don’t want anything to do with Longbottom, but I thought that if I handed you the reigns of the whole affair, the revenge would be so much sweeter.”

Draco took the letter from Pansy’s outstretched hand and looked at her pointedly. “So let me get this straight. You want me to give the blundering arsehole what he wants, have a little fun with him, and then, when he’s at his happy peak, make him a disgrace to the whole Gryffindor merry family?”

Pansy sat up and nodded coyly. “Couldn’t have put it better myself, Dray. After all, you are better then I am at tearing people’s hearts to shreds, I’m sure you can manage.”

“Oh believe me.” Draco smirked wickedly. “Salazar will be at my feet thanking me by the time I’m through with Longbottom.”

---------------------------------------------------

“Psst! Harry! Over here!”

Harry, startled, swung around abruptly as he was about to head down to the Quidditch pitch for practice. Feeling only a bit annoyed, he told Ron to go on without him and shouldered his broomstick as he made his way over to the shadowy corner of the Gryffindor common room where Neville was hiding. When he approached, Neville gulped and began fidgeting again, as he always did whenever he had something on his mind about Pansy.

“What is it Neville?” Harry asked, glancing at Ron’s retreating back and thinking that he was going to be late for practice.

“D-did Pansy get the.... the l-letter yesterday, do you th-think?” Neville gibbered. “Y-you don’t think the - the owl took it to the wrong p-person, do you?”

“No, I’m sure she got it fine.” Harry reassured. “The school owls never make mistakes in their deliveries.”

“But what if she thinks it’s a joke and... and she -”

“Don’t torture yourself so much, Neville.” he said, clapping a hand on the trembling boy’s shoulder. “You just have to be patient I suppose.”

“Do you think sh-she’ll write b-back though?”

Fat chance. Harry thought silently. “Give her time. She’ll come around.”

“R-right, Harry. Thanks. Have fun at Quidditch then.” Neville smiled timidly and scurried off up the staircase to the boy’s dormitories.

Poor Neville, was all that Harry could say to himself as he left the tower to meet the rest of his teammates. He really wondered why it was always Neville that had the unfortunate things happen to him. His own life as Harry Potter, seemed like practically nothing next to Neville’s life. Ridicule-wise.

Yes, Harry had his good share of ill-meant travesty too, like when Rita Skeeter was still around, but it didn’t happen everyday, as it seemingly was with Neville. Maybe Neville was the one that had been cursed when he was born.

When he got to the stadium, the other six Gryffindors were already in the air on the broomsticks, whacking Bludgers, passing Quaffles, and saving goals. Shaking off the heavy feelings in his chest, he threw his leg over his broom and kicked off the ground as hard as he could.

“What took you, Harry?” Ron bellowed from across the pitch.

“Nothing important!” Harry shouted back, rising higher and higher above the rest of the team until he was well out of voice range of Ron. Harry wasn’t very good at keeping secrets and if Ron prodded too many questions, he didn’t know what he might reveal about Neville, so it was safer to just stay away from anyone, really, until he got used to keeping his mouth shut. For now, he just wanted to focus on finding the Snitch. Seeking was one of the few things that had the ability to take his mind off even the most lethal of things.

Forty-five minutes later, and twenty-three Snitch catches later, they were all suddenly interrupted by the arrival of a throng of green robed people who were strutting their way out of the locker rooms opposite of the Gryffindor locker rooms.

“What the bloody hell do they think they’re doing here?” Ron cried out angrily, just as the Quaffle whizzed past him and into a goal hoop. “We’ve got the field booked for another hour!”

Harry followed him in the descent as Ron shot toward the ground to where the Slytherins were standing.

“Hello Weasley.” Nicholas Montague leered nastily as they approached. “And Potter.”

“We have the pitch booked until five, Montague.” Ron said, drawing himself up face to face with the other captain. “And don’t give us bullshit about Snape giving you permission because you’ve used that excuse one too many times -”

“Then perhaps McGonagall’s will suffice?”

“No it won’t - What???”

Montague smirked. “You heard me, your own Head of House. Will her word of permission satisfy your red-haired temper, my friend?”

Ron’s face flushed in anger and he snorted. “Let’s see it then! The note! Let’s see it!”

Montague obediently produced a slip of parchment from his robe pockets and tossed it at Ron, who struggled to catch it as it fluttered back and forth in the air. The whole Slytherin team burst out laughing.

Ron, ignoring the rude sniggers, yanked the paper open and stared at the note, eyes flashing across the paper so fast that Harry had a hard time following the movement.

After a moment, Ron looked up at Harry with a disbelieving expression on his face and his mouth opened and closed a few times before he cleared his throat and took out his wand.

“Harry - what was that spell again? The revealing spell?”

“Oh - Um, Veritum Revelatio, I think.” said Harry instantly.

“Veritum Revelatio!” said Ron, thwacking his wand at the paper. His face turned from red to redder. “Oh.”

“You’re wasting our time, Weasley. Either agree to play nicely, or move out of the way so we can practice now.” Miles Bletchly snarled.

“This can’t be happening.” groaned Ron, stuffing the note into Harry’s hand as he shot one menacing glare at Montague and then motioned to Harry. “Come on Harry, just ignore them.” And he flew back up into the air.

Harry stood for a moment, confused. He glanced down at the note.


I grant permission for the Slytherin Quidditch team to share the field with the Gryffindors on Sunday, November the 21st, from 4 o’clock to 5 o’clock.

-Minerva McGonagall


And right below the signature, red glowing words were inked ‘Veritable Signature’; compliments to the revealing spell.

Why would McGonagall give permission for the Slytherins to practice with us??? Harry thought incredulously, feeling more enraged by the second. They could steal our moves and use our tactics to strategize against us!

He looked up to see all the Slytherins sneering at him as they stepped by him, mounting their brooms. He threw the paper to the ground and was about to storm away when he felt someone yank his sleeve back violently, almost making him stumble. He whirled around and came face to face with Malfoy.

The other Slytherins didn’t seem to notice and took off without hesitation, mercilessly kicking away the Gryffindor players that were in their way with their feet, and stealing the Quaffle.

“What do you want Malfoy.” Harry snapped, jerking his arm away from Malfoy’s grip. His glare faltered slightly at the look on Malfoy’s face. It was cruel, pitiless, and... it was the look of someone who knew something that he wasn’t supposed to know, and no one knew that he knew.

His suspicions were determined when Malfoy’s mouth curled upward and he let go of Harry’s sleeve.

“I know something that you don’t know, Potter.” the blonde hissed unpleasantly. “And if you knew, you’d probably save us all the trouble and die of shock.”

Harry felt as if ice cubes had been dumped down his back.

Was it about Neville? Did he knew about Neville’s letter to Pansy? But of course... there probably isn’t a thing that Pansy doesn’t tell Malfoy... so does the WHOLE SLYTHERIN HOUSE KNOW???

Harry truly regretted ever agreeing to let Neville believe that he had a chance with anyone from Slytherin, as of now. If he had one of those time turners, he would have gone back to yesterday without a moments thought and ripped the letter to shreds before it reached Pansy’s hands. But it was too late now.

He stared at Malfoy long and hard before deciding not to say a thing about Neville. He wasn’t even sure if Malfoy was talking about the letter anyway, and plus, he’d only make things worse.

“That’s nice then.” he replied briskly, gripping his broom tighter as he stepped away.

Malfoy laughed and shrugging, mounted his own broom, before pausing. “Oh, and tell Longbottom that Pansy says ‘hi’.” and with that, the blonde kicked off into the air smoothly, leaving Harry in a cloud of dust in his wake.

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The rest of practice, Harry was so distracted that his average of four catches in ten minutes decreased shockingly to one catch every fifteen minutes. Malfoy seemed to be enjoying Harry’s state of mind and flauntingly mentioned how many more catches he’d tallied up so far, each time he flew by him.

Harry tried to act as if he didn’t care a fly whether Malfoy knew anything, but really, all he could think of was if he should tell Neville about the fact that he was in grave danger, or if he should simply round up all the Slytherins and Obliviate them.

In the end, he decided that Obliviating a fourth of the school would prove to be incredibly difficult, not to mention incredibly thick, and so he mustered up the courage to drop the bomb on Neville. Deducing from what Malfoy had said earlier, it was clear that neither he nor Pansy were taking Neville’s confession seriously, and it spelled nothing far from trouble.

After practice, and right before dinner, Harry, not even having taken his shower yet, went back to the castle in search of Neville. He was saved the travail when Neville found him first. Or rather, crashed into him in his obvious excitement.

“H- Harry! Harry!” Neville stammered, terribly flustered. Harry noticed that in his hands, he was holding a very stiff looking envelope which was still unopened.

Harry’s eyes bulged at the wax seal on the back of the envelope. It was the dark green seal of the Slytherin House, without a doubt.

“Ha-Harry! I - I got a r-reply!”

Harry immediately grabbed Neville’s elbow and dragged him away from the rest of the surge of Gryffindors heading down to the Great Hall for dinner.

His other hand was in his robe pocket, fingering his wand uncertainly. Should I do something before he reads it? Judging the Slytherins, it can’t be anything good.

Harry didn’t let go of the arm that held the envelope and stood there biting his lip uneasily.

“C- can you read it... first?” Neville asked cautiously, peering at him with frightened eyes. “I - I don’t... I can’t...”

Harry hesitated before nodding and taking the letter from Neville. He slit the envelope open and extracted a folded piece of paper with quite a lot of writing on it. Giving a reassuring smile to Neville, he lowered his eyes to the parchment and began to read silently.


Dear Neville,

Thank you so much for the sweet letter. I was a bit surprised yes, but terribly happy nonetheless.

I never expected someone like you to notice a girl like me. I was very much flattered beyond belief. You see, no one outside of Slytherin has ever told me they fancied me before, and although the rest of my house would disapprove of me fraternizing with someone from another house, I have different beliefs and strongly think that there should be no walls between any of the houses. It’s terribly devastating to think that I’m the only one in Slytherin that believes this. And what’s a helpless girl’s opinion against the rest of my housemates’?

The day we were partnered up in Herbology was very enjoyable. Of course, I’m not half as good at the subject as you. After all, you were the one who saved me from the Mandrake’s cry when my earmuffs slipped off. You saved my life, and I’m very very grateful for that.

As for a date to Hogsmeade, I’d love to but as I’ve mentioned before, I don’t think it would be safe for me to be seen with you out in public. If you have no objections, I’d so much appreciate it if we kept it... secret, for a bit longer. We can continue to write each other letters, without others finding out.

I have only told one person about the letter you sent me, and they have promised not to tell anyone else. I trust this person very much and I’m sure we can keep this to ourselves if you don’t tell anyone either.

I hope you don’t mind my rather selfish request, but I don’t want to lose you now that you’ve finally written me a letter. I admit that I’ve had eyes for you before this, and so you must imagine how happy your letter made me.


Please reply soon.

Many kisses,

Pansy


“I- Is it that bad?” Neville asked, his tone obvious that he was fearing the answer.

Harry could only blink and gape at the letter, half disgustedly and half disbelievingly. Somehow, Pansy Parkison being all humbly mushy was very disconcerting. This had to be some sort of sick joke that Pansy had conjured up, yet he didn’t understand why she would do this instead of a million other things she could do. Like publish Neville’s letter in a newspaper or make copies and post it up all over the school. That kind of prank seemed more Slytherin. If this indeed was just a prank, he couldn’t see where she was taking it. By writing a reply on paper, it could easily be read by others, and then backfire at her in the most nastily of ways.

What if she’s serious about this whole... thing? Harry’s mind whirled at the outlandish possibility. It didn’t seem possible, but what if it was? What if Pansy did fancy Neville? What if she did believe that walls between houses should not exist? What if, by convincing Neville that Pansy’s reply was a joke, he ended up ruining something that could have been for real?

Oh god, I think I’m going insane. Harry swore angrily to himself. Why was he worrying so much about another’s romantic relationship anyway? It was completely and utterly absurd and it was neither his problem or his responsibility if Neville wanted to take the ruddy chance and fall in love with Pansy Parkison. He should not have to pay for the consequences, as he had so much on his hands without having to deal with sappy sentiment and such. He’d learned from his past experiences (aka Cho Chang) that emotions were to be kept hidden and locked away until times became desperate. Therefore, he would watch silently from the sidelines as Neville moved on to greater and... well, greater things. Alone.

As he considered all this, he didn’t realise that Neville had taken back the now unfolded letter, and read through it not once, not twice, but thrice.

He was very much speechless when Harry became conscious of his surroundings again and he just stared at the letter in the same fashion that Harry had, only his eyes were wide with happiness and thrill, instead of disgust and disbelief.

“Harry! She accepted!” Neville whispered weakly, fingering the letter as if it were worth more than all the riches in Malfoy Manor put together.

“Mmhm.” Harry mumbled, eye twitching. “Sounds like it.”

“So I’ve got to write a reply now!” he said breathlessly. “And you’ve got to help me again, Harry!”

“Wha-? Oh - no, no.” Harry put up his hands and hook his head. “You’ve got to do this on your own now Neville, I only agreed to help you with the first letter and -” but he was cut off.

“B-but, I- I’ve got no clue what to write! A-and your ideas are so brilliant, Harry. I can’t do this on my own! Please, Harry!”

“It’s not hard - all you have to do is picture talking to her and imagine what you would tell her.” Harry said desperately. “You can do it Neville.”

“Please, Harry. I need your help! Pansy probably was impressed by the letter, and if I write something on my own, she might change her mind and refuse!”

Harry had the strong urge to say that things might end up nicer if she did refuse, but kept silent. He knew that he was trapped and that by agreeing to help Neville with the first letter, he’d more or less agreed to help Neville till the end, or at least until Neville was capable of going on by himself. And hadn’t Harry felt sorry for him just yesterday? If he didn’t help Neville, then Neville would most certainly not live through the rest of his life, much less, the rest of the school year without making a complete idiot of himself. He was sure that Neville didn’t want to be remembered as ‘The-Boy-Who-Failed-To-Woo-A-Slytherin’.

I’m thinking like a bloody Hufflepuff. Harry thought with a sigh. But friends are friends. If it were Ron or Hermione, wouldn’t I help them despite how dumb I thought their intentions were?

And so he reluctantly assured Neville that he would help him with his letters.

Not knowing that a secret battle was about to begin.


TBC....

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