Chapter Text
Pansy woke up with an incessant knocking on her dorm door. Well, Neville’s dorm door. “The door!” she murmured, trying to kick him on the shin to force him to wake up that Sunday morning.
But her boyfriend, she still couldn’t believe that she was dating Neville Longbottom, wasn’t in bed with her. “Nev?”
The Slytherin rubbed her eyes, summoning the quilt from the armchair and walking to the door. There was no one there, no one in the hallway, beside an enormous bouquet of tulips levitating in front of her.
She reached for the flowers, and they immediately landed on her arms. An assortment of colourful tulips, some of each she hadn’t even realised could exist. Yellows, oranges, reds, pinks, purples, blues, even greens. Gold, silver, black and white. They were beautiful.
She summoned a vase for the flowers before picking the card with her name. It was Neville’s handwriting. She was able to identify it anywhere.
Hi, my love.
I realised a few days ago that I knew tulips were your favourite, but not which colour you prefer. I couldn’t choose by myself, so I got you one of each.
Pansy chuckled. She could imagine the blush on his cheek as he wrote that letter. She always favoured purple tulips. He had put so much work into the bouquet. They were perfect.
I hope you love them, but rest assured that they’re not as pretty as you, my favourite flower.
She blushed, looking at the parchment. He had been calling her that, favourite flower, since they started dating. Exactly the day they returned from Winter Holidays. She loved hearing him because it made her feel special in a way no one had ever before.
Now, telling you not to dress up would just be a silly mistake. I know you. I know you like to look your best, not one hair out of place. So put on your most beautiful dress, some charmed heels so you’re comfortable and maybe, just maybe, some red lipstick?
Meet me in the Great Hall before lunch, and we shall go to Hogsmeade. I have a table reserved in the new restaurant that opened in the village. I think you will love it.
The Slytherin smirked, that boy knew her so well. Neville Longbottom understood her like he knew the soil in which he planted his flowers. And he didn’t wish to change her, not one bit. Nev just adapted his life around her.
Sometimes she thought a little too much. He cared for her like she was the centre of his universe. If she was to write a list of things that Neville Longbottom cared about, his Gran and parents, his friends, Herbology and Her.
Pansy Parkinson, the brightest bitch of Slytherin, was part of the Love List of Neville Longbottom, the Snake Slayer, the Hero of Hogwarts. If that by itself wasn’t a miracle, magic stronger than the Founders ever practised, she wasn’t sure what would be.
He was perfect. And he was hers.
She knew they had bonded that night in the greenhouse. When he saved her. Even if he didn’t know it.
I love you, Pans! See you in a bit. And Happy Valentine’s.
“I love you, Nebbie,” she whispered.