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Hermione smoothed her hands over her curls in the mirror, trying to tame the smaller fly-aways that always appeared when she was nervous.
“You don’t mind, right?” she asked, turning to face Neville, who was sitting on the chair in front of her vanity.
Neville simply rolled his eyes. “Hermione, I’ve already told you a million times, it’s fine. It’s not like I’ll be a third wheel all night, right? Whatshername will be there still?”
Hermione nodded. “Pansy, she was in our year too, remember?”
Neville couldn’t have forgotten her if he had tried. The amount of times he had stared at the back of her dark brown head in Charms class, the colour of rich chocolate and looking as if it had the texture of silk, were too many for him to count. In fact, he had barely scraped an Acceptable in his OWLs when the rat he was supposed to be turning orange had instead turned the exact shade of her hair. He had been hiding his excitement over seeing her again with nonchalance, not letting on how he felt almost as nervous as Hermione did at the prospect of seeing Pansy again.
Neville watched as Hermione hooked a pair of emerald green drop earrings through her ears, crossing his arms with a smirk as she caught him looking.
“Shut up,” she groaned, “I’m nervous, alright? I’d like to make a good impression.”
“Malfoy personally invited you for dinner at his flat, I hardly think you need to impress him any more than you already have.”
She sighed. “You’re right, I’m overthinking this all. It’s just dinner between a couple of old school chums, right?” Neville didn’t bother to remind Hermione that she and Malfoy weren’t exactly what he would have called ‘chums’.
Those words would come back to haunt Hermione as she and Neville stepped through Draco’s Floo, his grey eyes lighting up as he saw Hermione step out, followed by a frown as Neville was hot on her heels.
“What are you doing here, Longbottom?”
Neville struggled to hide his grin. “Good to see you too, Malfoy.”
Draco turned his gaze to Hermione. “I thought you said you just lived with him, not that you were an item.”
Hermione choked on the laugh that erupted from her throat. “Me and Neville?” she squeaked out, her voice pitching higher, “Absolutely not. I thought I told you that I invited him as well?”
Draco shot a concerned look towards the kitchen. “I guess it helps that he’s here since Pansy will no longer be gracing us with her presence, I’d only prepared enough for three.”
Neville’s heart sank a little, but tried not to let it show on his face. “Prepared what?”
Draco gave Neville a scathing glare as Hermione snickered. “Dinner, Longbottom. The meal that you’d seemingly been invited to without my knowledge.”
“You don’t have an army of house elves to cook for you anymore?”
Draco wrapped an arm around Hermione’s shoulders, a warm blush spreading up her cheeks. “Someone once told me I could live without them, turns out she was right.” He looked down at Hermione with a dreamy smile on his face, and Neville almost felt put off his meal.
Neville and Hermione sat at the kitchen counter with a glass of white wine as they watched Draco put the finishing touches on their dinner, which was shrimp linguine in a creamy garlic sauce. At one point when Draco’s back was turned, Neville gave Hermione a nudge with his elbow, cocking his head in Draco’s direction. Hermione bit her lip to keep the smile from erupting on her face as Draco turned back around to plate up the pasta.
Neville had officially reached third wheel status by the end of the meal, as Draco and Hermione had sat next to each other at the dining table, Draco’s arm now draped on the back of Hermione’s chair as Hermione’s left hand rested gingerly on Draco’s knee.
Although Draco had proven himself by cooking from scratch, he still couldn’t bring himself to wash the dishes by hand, instead charming the scouring pad to scrub soapy water over the pots and pans. With the post-dinner mess being taken care of, the trio retired to the living room.
Neville could see the touches of Pansy in the room. Instead of a gaudy green velvet and silver brocade theme, the room was decorated in cream coloured linen, a mushroom suede couch, and the odd pop of sage green in the throw pillows and ottoman. The round birch coffee table had several home decoration books artfully arranged on top, with a bunch of dried wheat in a vase next to them.
Draco cleared his throat as he saw Neville taking in the room. “Pansy has quite the eye for interior design. She’s been trying to persuade me to let her redecorate my bedroom, but I’m not quite convinced yet.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “What’s so bad about it? If this room is anything to go by, she would do a spectacular job.”
“My bedroom has a particular… taste.”
The left side of Hermione’s lips raised in a smirk. “Oh really?”
Draco’s face mirrored Hermione’s. “Really.”
Draco stood up, holding his hand out for Hermione as he walked her to his polarising bedroom, closing the door behind them. Neville let out a sigh as he heard a quiet ‘Muffliato’ a few minutes later and stretched himself out on the couch, picking up one of the coffee table books.
It had been so quiet that Neville hadn’t realised he drifted off to sleep until green flashed behind his eyes and the clacking of a pair of stilettos grew louder. He was only partly awake when he realised the clacking had stopped, and he quickly fell back asleep.
* * * * *
The next time he woke, the sun was attempting to stream through the grey clouds outside the living room window, and a thick, knitted sage green blanket had been draped over him. The book that was previously open on his chest as he fell asleep was placed artfully back on top of the stack.
“They’re not meant to be read like a novel, you know,” a voice laced with disdain came from behind him. He sat up, letting the blanket fall off his chest as he turned towards the voice. Pansy had one perfectly arched eyebrow raised as her eyes trailed down to his rumpled shirt and back up to his hair, which was now flat on one side from sleep.
Pansy had only grown more lovely with age, Neville had decided. Her waist-long hair was now cut into a long bob, the ends slightly curled away from her face. She had grown into the nose that others had teased her mercilessly for in Hogwarts, the slight upturn making her face look more cherubic than ever, especially complimented by her soft, pink pout. A delicate gold chain sat against her collarbones, a thin gold plate centred in the hollow of her neck. She held two mugs in her manicured hands, extending one to Neville before crossing back to the doorway.
“The Muffliato wore off during round two, by the way,” she said, tilting her head towards the closed bedroom door, “So if I were you, I’d probably leave before Draco wakes up and decides to go round three. I’m not sure you’d enjoy hearing the noises Granger makes.”
“Duly noted,” Neville said with a slight nod, his voice still husky with sleep. Pansy ran her eyes over him one more time before exiting the room with a swish of her hair.
Neville inhaled the aroma wafting from the mug in his hands, the rich scent of coffee filling the air around him. He didn’t usually drink coffee, as he preferred relaxing with a tea in the light mist of his plant-filled balcony, but he was partial to a flat white on occasion. The coffee Pansy had made him was black, the caramel coloured crema still foaming on the top. The first sip was like velvet down his throat, notes of chocolate and malt tingling his tastebuds.
He sat and enjoyed the smooth coffee until he heard the rustling of sheets and murmured voices from beyond the bedroom door, leaving the empty mug on the kitchen sink before disappearing through the Floo as Hermione’s moans began to ricochet off the walls.
* * * * *
The following Saturday evening followed in a similar suit, with two exceptions. The first being that Draco and Hermione were no longer hesitant with each other, making no attempts to hide their lingering gazes or subtle touches from their accumulating audience. The second being that Pansy was now seated next to Neville at the dinner table, scowling at the newly loved-up pair over her glass of red wine.
As envious as Neville was, he was immensely happy for his friend. Hermione had been through hell and back after the war, a brief fling with Ron ending in near-disaster and her standing on Neville’s doorstep, drenched from the rain with only her beaded bag and the jacket on her back. It had taken many months of tea and garden therapy, but she had finally healed enough to open herself up to someone new. That someone being Draco Malfoy, who had just stumbled into her life by chance as she literally bumped into him leaving the Ministry. After he had helped her gather the parchments she had dropped in the collision, she had conveniently run into him several times a day, sharing lunches and coffees in their fleeting moments.
Now he was watching them exchanging knowing glances, comfortable in each other’s presence, and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of longing for what they had. Instead, Pansy didn’t let a single body part stray from her side of the table, a glare fixed on her face from the moment he and Hermione had entered her living space.
Draco and Hermione had been so caught up in their own conversation about their working week, that Neville felt forced to converse with Pansy out of circumstance.
“So,” he started, twirling the spaghetti around his fork, “What do you do for work?” Neville already knew the answer to this, as he had done some sleuthing of his own after last weekend, trying to find an interesting conversation topic he could strike with her.
Pansy shot him a scathing look. “I’m not interested in small talk, Longbottom. Infact,” she said slightly louder, gaining the attention of the couple across the table, “I’m not interested in this entire evening.” Pansy stood abruptly from her chair, the feet screeching across the wooden floors from the sudden movement.
Draco managed to pull his gaze from Hermione for a brief moment. “Pans, where are you going?”
“Literally anywhere that doesn’t involve being in forced proximity of this sickening act.” She turned hot on her heel, the sound of a door slamming filling the expanses of the apartment just moments later.
Hermione’s face had fallen at Pansy’s words, suddenly feeling unsure of herself and what was happening between her and Draco. Draco put his hand on her knee reassuringly.
“Ignore her, she’s been through a lot recently. It’s been a hard adjustment for her and her coping mechanism is to take her terrible mood out on everyone around her.”
Hermione’s shoulders relaxed visibly and she covered Draco’s hand on her knee with her own, giving him a small smile. “That’s understandable, I’ve been there before.”
“I know,” Draco said, lifting their joined hands to kiss Hermione’s knuckles. Hermione melted into his gaze once again and Neville felt more isolated than he had the first time they had dinner together. Tempted to join Pansy in whatever wallowing she was doing on her own, Neville finished off his plate in silence and retired to the living room as Hermione and Draco disappeared into his bedroom.
Neville had dozed off on the soft couch once again, this time locating the blanket to cover himself as he settled in for the night, when a harsh light flooding his eyes forced them open. Pansy was standing by the door, hand on the light switch. Since her outburst she had changed into an olive green camisole and a pair of cream coloured cotton shorts, exposing her long but shapely legs to Neville’s now wide-eyed gaze.
Pansy narrowed her eyes as she took in his sleeping form. “Why are you still here?”
Neville fought back an eye roll as he jerked his head towards the bedroom door, once again charmed to silence any sounds coming from it. Pansy crossed her arms.
“I can’t tell if you have some kind of sick perversion about knowing what’s happing behind those doors, or if you’re just jealous.”
Neville looked towards the door, unsure of how to approach the subject without seeming overbearing. “You may find that you and Hermione have more in common than you think. I guess I just show my protective side better than Malfoy does when it comes to you.”
Pansy’s face softened, but not enough to let down her guard. She was silent for a beat. “You do know that we have a guest room, right?”
“A guest room?”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “Draco is ever the accommodating host,” her voice dripped with sarcasm, “Follow me.”
Neville pulled himself from the couch, following Pansy down the hall. She pushed the door open, revealing a queen-sized bed covered in sage green linens. A trio of candles flickered from the bedside table, casting a dim glow over the room. Pansy stepped aside to let Neville in, lingering in the doorway as he ran his hand over the soft bedsheets. He turned back to look at her, the soft light of the candles highlighting her sharp cheekbones and the shadows of her curves, even in her simple sleepwear looking every bit the ethereal goddess Neville had pictured her to be. His chest suddenly grew tight at the sight before him, choking every word he had planned to say back in his throat.
Pansy ran her eyes down his body once more before meeting his eyes. She cleared her throat, breaking the pair from the spell.
“Goodnight, Longbottom.”
* * * * *
Neville felt more well-rested the next morning than he had ever felt, waking up in a sea of soft pillows and silken sheets. The apartment was quiet, save for a low hum coming from the kitchen. He pulled himself begrudgingly from the cloud of sleep, padding down the hallway as he stretched his arms above his head. His bleary eyes nearly missed Pansy’s gaze darting down to the soft trail of hair above his waistband that peeked out from the bottom of his rumpled t-shirt.
Much like the previous weekend, she wordlessly handed him a mug of coffee as they both retreated to the living room, watching fat drops of rain splatter on the window outside. Neville had grown to love the rain, thinking of the rainforest of plants on his balcony that were surely thriving in the extra water.
He inhaled the heady aroma of the coffee before taking a sip, having anticipated another coffee like the previous blend. Instead of the rich chocolate and malt notes, he was surprised by the sweet notes of cherry, giving the mug an entirely different palate than what he was expecting.
“Is this a different coffee to last weekend?” he blurted out, unable to stop the surprise in his voice from coming through.
Pansy paused, her mug halfway to her lips. “Pardon?”
Neville pointed at the mug. “The coffee blend. Last week had a subtle chocolate and malt, but this tastes sweeter, like cherry. Did you use a different blend?”
Pansy looked surprised for the first time in her life. “Er, yes, it is. I wasn’t aware you would be able to tell much difference, Draco hadn’t noticed any change at all.”
Neville nodded. “I usually drink tea, so I’m always searching for that flavour profile. It’s um, it’s nice,” he finished meekly, suddenly embarrassed by his outburst.
Pansy’s face was almost smug, until the door to Draco’s bedroom opened. Draco was shirtless as he lead Hermione from the room, wearing the shirt that Draco seemed to have forgone.
Draco frowned at the pair with their matching coffee mugs. “Where’s mine?” he almost whined.
Pansy rolled her eyes. “You’re a big boy, you can make your own. By the way, I’m telling Narcissa about your terrible hosting skills next time I see her, I can’t believe you made Neville sleep on the couch last week when there’s a perfectly good guest room down the hall.”
Neville’s breath caught in his throat as his name left Pansy’s gorgeous lips, wanting to revel in the moment forever. Draco glared at Pansy before kissing the back of Hermione’s hand that was entwined in his, dropping them as he sauntered to the kitchen to make his own coffee.
Hermione’s brow furrowed as she dropped onto the couch next to Neville. “Did you stay the night?”
Neville nodded. “I wasn’t going to leave you here by yourself last weekend, you were already a jittery mess before we got here.”
Hermione shook her head, her curls running rampant this morning. “I meant last night. You didn’t have to, you know. I-I trust Draco,” she said softly.
Neville gave her a smile. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
Hermione reached out and gave Neville’s hand a soft squeeze before Draco returned with two coffee mugs for himself and Hermione, settling onto the couch next to her with an arm slung over her shoulder. As they engaged in light conversation, Neville couldn’t help but notice Pansy watching him from the corner of his eye.
* * * * *
Deciding on a change of scenery the following week, Neville was helping Hermione in the kitchen of their flat as she ran about in a flap, fussing over everything from the décor down to the mismatching bowls they were serving dinner in.
Neville put his hands on Hermione’s shoulders in an attempt to ground her. “Hermione, you could serve dinner to Draco in your hands and he would still praise the ground you walk on. Trust me, you have nothing to worry about.”
This seemed to calm Hermione slightly, until a flash of green came from the fireplace and Draco stepped out. Neville was most surprised, however, when the fireplace flashed again and Pansy followed him, looking critically around their sitting room. Neville suddenly felt Hermione’s discomfort in being judged, as he watched Pansy’s wandering eyes take in his mismatched furniture and disorganised clutter. He wondered if she was comparing it to her artfully designed living room and felt the need to clean and reorganise the entire flat. Neville noticed Hermione looking at him with her arms crossed and a smug look on her face as if to say ‘I told you so’.
Draco greeted Hermione with a kiss and presented her with a bouquet of blush pink peonies, which Hermione fawned over as she transfigured a tea cup into an ornate vase to place the bouquet. Pansy still hadn’t spoken as she trailed after Draco, taking in the new surroundings of the kitchen.
“I’m sorry for the late notice, but Pansy insisted on joining us this evening,” Draco gestured to his housemate, who scowled at him.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Draco. I’d do anything to be able to interact with any human other than yourself.”
The extra guest had put Hermione back in her frantic mood. “Drat, we’ve only prepared enough risotto for three, I wasn’t expecting an extra guest.” She looked towards Neville as she tried to find a way to salvage the meal without making them all go hungry.
“I’m sure I could pull enough from the garden to make a side salad to go with it,” he suggested, Hermione’s eyes lighting up at the idea. Neville pulled a large silver bowl from the bottom cupboard and started towards his balcony.
Pansy’s head darted between Neville and the couple who had obviously forgotten that they weren’t in private, making a split-second decision to dart after Neville as his hand reached the door handle to his bedroom. “Wait for me!”
He opened the door and let her through first, her critical gaze returning to his bedroom as he slid open the glass door of his balcony. “Coming?”
She pulled her eyes from the room as she nodded, jaw dropping as she stepped onto the rough tiled platform, taking in the lush greenery Neville had cultivated over the years.
“Wow,” was all she managed to breathe out as Neville pushed past overgrown vines to the planter box with the edible garden. Looking over the box at what was harvestable, he pulled some red butter lettuce, a couple of large radishes, a cucumber and a handful of cherry tomatoes that were almost bursting. Holding the bowl of his harvest out to Pansy, he reached up to the lemon tree to pluck one off its stem to make a vinaigrette dressing.
“How long did this take?” she asked in wonder as she looked around the balcony. Neville had used several undetectable expansion charms over the years with Hermione’s help to maximise his plant space, making the balcony expand to roughly thirty square metres instead of the two it had started as.
“It’s been a work in progress for years, but I think it’s just about perfected now,” he replied, admiring his hard work through fresh eyes. He had worked on it little by little over time, that taking it all in without trying to pinpoint one particular area nearly overwhelmed him with a feeling of accomplishment.
“Can I?” Pansy gestured to a small opening that lead to the flower garden. Neville nodded as he put the bowl on the patio table, pushing aside the overgrown branches to allow Pansy easier access. He ducked in after her as she gasped at the array of flowers before her. Roses, peonies, chrysanthemums and daises grew from large terrcotta pots, while blooms of marigolds and snapdragons were in a planter box in the midst of the climbing vines.
Neville reached into the planter box and plucked a vibrant purple flower with a deep violet centre from the bed, leaving a long stem on the end of it. He turned to Pansy with the flower, pushing her hair back slightly as he tucked the stem behind her ear, the bright bloom sitting next to her face.
“A pansy for Pansy.”
Her hazel eyes met his, brimming with emotion as he reached for her hand. The breath in her chest hitched as his fingers curled around hers, her hand as soft as the rose petals in his garden.
“Neville!” Hermione’s voice came shrill from the balcony door. “The risotto is almost ready!”
He broke from his trance with a smile as he pushed the branches back for Pansy to exit, grabbing the bowl before heading back to the kitchen with her. Draco’s mouth dropped then snapped shut as he took in Pansy’s flushed face and floral addition to her hair, giving her a knowing smirk as she hit him on the arm.
Neville made quick work of chopping his fresh vegetables, squeezing the lemon juice into a jar before adding a crushed clove of garlic, olive oil, salt and a spoon of mustard. He gave the jar a good shake before pouring it over the bowl of salad and setting it in the middle of the table for everyone to help themselves.
They took the same places at the table as they had in Draco and Pansy’s apartment; Hermione and Draco on one side and Pansy and Neville on the other. Only this time, Pansy let herself relax more, no longer keeping rigid on her side as she let her right elbow bump into Neville’s arm occasionally. In retaliation, Neville let his left leg drift slightly under the table, until it was just barely touching Pansy’s smooth calf. Every time they would subtly brush against each other, Pansy would peek a glance at Neville from the corner of her eye, a blush creeping onto her cheeks as he smirked at her, the corner of his eyes crinkling. It was a small blessing to the both of them that the pair across the table from them were far too smitten with each other to notice what was happening in front of them.
Hermione and Draco had been so wrapped up in each other after dinner that Neville took it upon himself to clear the table and wash the dishes. His arms were elbow deep in the sudsy water when he felt a brush at his back. He nearly slopped the water onto the floor as Pansy appeared at his side, handing him her plate to wash.
“Draco and Hermione have disappeared, so I don’t believe it’s wise to try and follow them at this stage,” she stated, watching the muscles on Neville’s forearms move as he scrubbed at the dishes. “Need a hand?”
He looked pointedly down at Pansy’s soft hands, her nails perfectly manicured in a shade of blush pink. “I don’t think it would be polite of me to ask.”
She chuckled as she picked up a tea towel from where it was hanging on the oven door, drying the dishes Neville had already sat in the dish drainer on the sink. They worked together in a comfortable silence, Neville unable to keep himself from sighing happily in the little bubble of domestic bliss he had once imagined for themselves. Drying his hands, he helped put away the dishes before pulling a pair of wine glasses from a top cupboard.
“Red or white?”
Pansy chose red, so he opened a bottle of South Australian Shiraz, letting it breathe for a few minutes before filling their glasses. He peeked into the living room, hoping not to find Hermione in any compromising positions, but found Pansy’s eyes straying back towards his bedroom door, longing for the peace and quiet for his balcony.
She followed as he pushed the glass door open again, taking a seat on the wicker loveseat between a pair of blue hydrangea bushes. Neville took the spot next to her, tucking a leg underneath himself to face her. His heart pounded nervously in his chest as the air between them crackled with electricity and anticipation of what they both knew would happen now they were alone.
Pansy traced the rim of her glass with her finger, not looking at Neville as she spoke up. “Draco told me about what you did for Hermione, by the way, when she left Weasley.”
Neville didn’t respond, just took another pull of his wine as Pansy took a deep breath. “Draco did the same for me when I left my husband. Ex-husband, I mean,” she corrected herself. “He gave me a place to live and cared for me those first few weeks, until I could take care of myself again. Well, he cared for me as much as he was capable of, which essentially meant he brought me coffees in bed and cooked every meal for me. He was rubbish at cooking back then, so once I’d pulled myself together enough to leave my room, I showed him the basics. Hermione should be thanking me, really.”
That had surprised Neville. He had no idea Pansy had even been married, let alone divorced. A shot of jealousy rushed through him as he thought about another man putting his hands on her, getting to feel the soft skin of her legs or run his hands through her silky, brown hair.
“We spent a lot of time in this very same spot, drinking tea and having our own therapy sessions,” Neville mused, remembering the early days of his and Hermione’s time together, consoling her as she cried into her teacup most nights.
“I can imagine, even just sitting here now has an incredibly soothing effect,” Pansy responded, closing her eyes as she inhaled and exhaled deeply, a dreamy smile crossing her face.
Neville took the opportunity to inch closer to her, taking her wine glass from her as he placed them both on the table in front of the loveseat. Pansy didn’t even flinch as Neville brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear, letting his fingertips linger at her cheek as her lips parted softly. Breathing in the sweet scent of wine from her breath, he leaned in closely and pressed his lips gently to hers, tasting the spiciness of their wine mixed with the fresh lemon from dinner.
Pansy’s hands found the tops of Neville’s shoulders as she leaned into the kiss, her eyes still closed as Neville shifted under her, letting Pansy take the more dominant position. Once she had spread her legs to straddle Neville’s hips, her hands moved to his hair, fisting it tightly as she kissed him hungrily, her tongue flickering against Neville’s lower lip. He granted her access to his mouth, letting her tongue enter and brush against his. He let her control the kiss, following her lead whenever she became frenzied, or softening when she started to draw back.
After a few minutes, she pulled away as she tried to catch her breath, keeping her eyes closed as she rested her forehead against Neville’s. He opened his eyes to drink in every inch of her, adjusting the pansy behind her ear that had fallen slightly. She smiled softly at the action, opening her eyes to catch his golden brown irises staring adoringly.
They spent the next hour engaging in small talk with the remainder of their wine, Pansy settled with her back to Neville’s chest as he wrapped his spare arm around her waist to hold her close. Neville could feel Pansy’s breath start to slow as the night grew darker and they grew more comfortable in their position. She inhaled deeply as she pulled herself upright, swinging her legs to stand from the loveseat.
“I’m assuming you don’t have a guest room?” she asked, the snobby tone returning to her voice. Neville simply chuckled, enjoying the way her slight air of superiority had grown on him.
“I don’t. I’ve got a lovely second-hand couch in the living room,” he started, stifling a laugh as a look of horror came across her face, “Otherwise there’s room on the other side of my bed for you.”
The corners of her lips turned up into a grin as she snaked her arms around his neck. “Lead the way, then.”
* * * * *
If Neville had thought waking up last weekend was enjoyable, he was having an even more enjoyable morning waking up beside Pansy, her legs tangled in his as the shirt she had borrowed from him to sleep in had ridden up around her waist, exposing her smooth skin all the way up to her hip, the lace band of her underwear sitting flush against her. Her full lips, swollen from the makeout session they had in his bed before falling asleep, were parted as she breathed deeply in her sleep, dark lashes fluttering as her eyes flickered behind her eyelids.
Neville buried his face in the top of her head, inhaling deeply as the scent of jasmine shampoo filled his senses. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead as he begrudgingly pried her arms from his waist. She whined softly in her sleep at the loss of contact, and Neville had to bite his lip to keep from chuckling. He loved that she was apparently so needy for affection, particularly his affection. As much as he could have stayed in bed with her all morning, keeping her wrapped in his arms, he wanted to repay the favour that she didn’t know she was owed.
During the week, Neville had quizzed Hermione on Muggle coffee machines, having picked one up on a visit to London. They poured over the instruction manual together, assembling the machinery before Neville took it upon himself to test it out. He had almost choked on the first few coffees he made, burning the beans so it became bitter and nothing like the smooth finish Pansy had produced, but by the end of the week he had mastered the art of the espresso well enough that Hermione had taken a flask in to share with Draco on Friday morning.
Pulling out the small bag of beans, he set two coffee cups on the counter before grinding the beans into the Portafilter. He flicked a button as he set the mugs underneath the spout, letting the stream of espresso splash into the mugs below. Being careful not to lose the silky, golden crema on top, he filled the rest of the mugs with hot water before heading back to the bedroom.
The bed was empty, much to Neville’s disappointment, but a wave of relief washed over him as he felt a cool breeze coming through the door to his balcony. Stepping onto the cold tile, he saw Pansy sitting on the same loveseat from the previous night, her eyes wandering over the expanse of his garden. She didn’t look up at him until he had approached her, holding out the cup. She took it graciously, hesitating slightly before taking a sip. Her eyes widened in surprise before taking another drink.
“Caramel and honey?” she queried as Neville blew a cooling breath across his cup. He nodded as they both sipped at their coffee, enjoying the sticky sweet flavour profile. “I’ve never been able to find a caramel blend, where did you get it from?”
Neville set down his cup as he stood from the seat, disappearing into the expanses of his garden before returning with a handful of small, translucent red globes. Pansy’s mouth dropped open in shock as Neville pried the globes apart to reveal the raw coffee beans inside.
“This was the first plant I ever grew on the balcony when I bought this flat four years ago,” he explained as Pansy took the raw seeds from his hands in amazement, “It was a complete mystery plant, and I’d lost all hope in it until it started flowering about eight months ago. These little cherries only appeared two weeks ago, the morning after I got home from sleeping on your couch. They ripened up this week, so I investigated them and once I realised what it was, it felt like they had waited all this time for us to finally come together before blooming.”
Pansy sniffed, suddenly feeling overcome with emotion. “I thought you said you preferred tea,” she said thickly.
“I can learn to love again, just like you have.”