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This was not how Neville imagined their first significant interaction since their school days. To be honest, he hadn’t imagined a single interaction with anyone that started with himself drenched in Bubotuber pus. Yet here he was, sat in the dirt, covered in Bubotuber pus. It was warm, slimy, and just beginning to smart. Brilliant. He had thought he might gallantly surprise her in the hospital wing with it. That she would find the act of him anticipating her need for more petrol-perfumed pus thoughtful. And then maybe, she’d invite him to catch up over a cuppa.
And until this point, everything had been going rather well—he had been showing the fourth years how to collect the bubotuber pus. As a pretty straightforward task, he didn’t foresee any ways for this to go wrong. Sure, Cybele Hughes was an animated talker and not always the most fastidious when it came to safety precautions, but everyone had their dragonhide gloves on and they’d seemed alert during the brief safety refresher. He was able to anticipate the accident by a second, throwing up a hand to protect his face right as Cybele’s hand holding the plant swung out as she reached the climax of her story. She had been enthusiastically telling her rapt audience of three other fourth year girls all about how she’d seen Oisín Reilly out with a Ravenclaw girl at Madam Puddifoot’s. Unfortunately, his right ear was left unguarded, and a thick putrid-green glob now clung to his ear lobe.
Of course this was the moment she would appear. His heartbeat quickened, and he was transported back to second year Potions. Pansy Parkinson stared down at him, a slight hint of a smile dancing across her features. This time there was no cruelty in her smile, only slight amusement. She had taken over as Hogwarts’s new Healer since Madam Pomfrey’s retirement last summer.
“Oh dear, I’d come down here to see if you wouldn’t mind collecting some bubotuber pus for the hospital wing’s cupboards. We were starting to run low, but I see you’re already ahead of me. Thank you, Professor Longbottom.”
He inwardly groaned. Why did she have to find him like this? He wanted to establish a new baseline, really drive home that he was no longer the timid clumsy boy of the past. This felt like the countless times in school that he’d fumbled something and embarrassed himself. He just needed to remain unbothered, and completely unfocused on the horrific pain emanating from his right ear. This was fine. And he certainly didn’t feel the need to violently claw at his ear and then immediately dunk his head into the icy waters of the Black Lake.
He offered her a slight nod and what he hoped looked like a smile.
“Of course, Madame Parkinson. The class and I had thought of surprising you.
“That’s very sweet of you.” She leaned in a bit and peered at his ear. “When you bring it up to the hospital wing, I can take a look at the eruption of boils that’s replaced what was once your ear. I’ll leave you to it.”
Neville reached a dragonhide-covered hand up to his ear and winced before waving her off.
“That won’t be necessary—it’s nothing serious. I have everything here to treat it myself.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll see you all back at the castle.” And with that she turned and headed back to the castle.
He stood and dusted his hands off on his work apron.
“I’m going to go wipe this off my ear and treat it. Miss Hughes will collect everyone’s pus and take it to the hospital wing. Class dismissed.”
He saw her standing in front of The Three Broomsticks talking to a group of students, bathed in the slanted autumn light, as he headed towards Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. She grinned at him as he walked by, which he returned with a smile and a nod. It was the first time he’d seen her out of her healer’s robes since she’d started, her black bob skimming the top of a thick olive roll-neck jumper. It took effort not to slow down, and say something, anything, to her. He could think about Pansy after he had met with George. He glanced back as he reached the joke shop’s door and met her eyes briefly before heading inside.
Neville headed towards the back of the store, through the towering labyrinthine aisles, and stepped through a small door into a cosy sitting room. George was seated in a wingback chair and stood to greet him.
“Nev! It’s good to see you, and thank you for stopping by. How are ya?” He gave Neville a friendly slap on the back.
“Great to see you too. I’ve started to clear one of the back greenhouses for the Sopophorous plant, and I’ve found a nice shady spot near the Forbidden Forest for the—”
George waved his hands, cutting him off, and gestured to the opposite chair. “No no no, sit down and have some tea, we can talk business later.” With a flick of his wand, the tea service resting on the little table in front of them sprang to life and poured them each a cup. “Tell me what’s going on with you. I hear Parkinson’s the new Madam Pomfrey. Can’t say I’d have ever thought she was the nurturing type, but I suppose we’re all capable of surprises. Do you still fancy her?”
“We haven’t interacted much, but she seems perfectly nice.” Neville paused and ran a hand through his hair. “And I didn’t fancy her, I just thought she was pretty that’s all.”
“Right, mate, whatever you say. If you still think she’s pretty you should try asking her for a drink, it’s been ages since you and Luna split anyways. Maybe it’s time you started dipping a toe in.”
They caught up a bit more before moving on to discuss George’s herbology needs. Thirty minutes later Neville left Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes with renewed energy to find Pansy and ask her for a drink. They weren’t in school anymore, and he’d outgrown his awkwardness years ago; there was no reason this shouldn’t be a breeze.
He wandered around the streets of Hogsmeade, and with no Pansy in sight, he decided to slip into The Three Broomsticks for a pint. He found Oliver Wood already at the bar and the pair began a friendly conversation which quickly tapered off due to a lack of shared interests. There was only so much quidditch conversation Neville could sustain before trailing off into a companionable silence, peppered with the occasional remark.
A quarter of an hour later a gust of wind announced a new arrival and Pansy strode into the pub. With a quick glance she headed to the closest booth.
This was it, he just needed to walk up to her and ask her if she wanted to join him for a drink. The stakes were low, It was not like he was asking for her hand in marriage. It was just a friendly drink. He had asked plenty of women for friendly drinks and even some for very friendly drinks and it'd gone well. He would finish his pint, excuse himself to Oliver, and just head right over. Simple as that.
Lifting up his glass for the final sip, he stood up and clasped Oliver on the shoulder. “Alright mate, I’m gonna—” He trailed off abruptly as he watched Pansy stand to greet the world’s most irritating blond pest in existence. Bloody Malfoy. When did he even arrive? He always did take such pleasure in ruining Neville’s life.
Pansy rose slightly on her toes and embraced Draco, giving him a forceful kiss on each cheek before dragging him by the arm into the booth.
“—I’m gonna head out. I’ll see you back at the castle.” Neville finished before he abruptly turned and left.
“Was that Longbottom?” Draco asked as he set down a pair of G&T’s on the table.
Pansy pulled one towards herself and took a sip.
“Yes, he’s been teaching Herbology for years now. Surprised you didn’t know given your deep fascination with Gryffindors. He turned out quite dishy, but I can’t seem to get his attention.” She said between sips. “Tell me, how have your endeavours been going with your own little lion? Has she noticed you yet?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. You always did have quite the imagination.” He leaned back into the banquette. “I reckon if you’re interested in Longbottom, you might have to make the initial approach.”
Raising a perfectly arched brow at him she took another sip.
“Hmm, I think you might be right.”
A week went by and Neville managed to avoid seeing Pansy except in passing in the Great Hall. It had been a long week; the few times he had been unable to avoid making eye contact with her, it had seemed like she wanted to say something to him. Each time this happened he found a way to discreetly slip away.
It was near midnight when he left his quarters and began heading to the Forbidden Forest. He’d almost made it through the entrance hall to the outdoors when he saw her.
“Good evening Professor Longbottom, you’ve had a busy week—I’ve barely seen you.”
He made his way to step around her.
“Er, hello Madam Parkinson, if you’ll excuse me it’s a full moon and I need to head down to the Forbidden Forest while there’s moonlight. I have to harvest Mooncalf dung for our upcoming Sopophorous plant crop.”
As he attempted to slip past her, she reached out and rested a hand on his arm.
“Neville, wait! I wanted to thank you again for the Bubotuber pus, I was really touched that you thought of the hospital wing and its needs.”
“Just doing my job, Pansy.”
“And are you always so thoughtful with the other professors whilst doing your job?” She glanced up at him with a coy smile.
Her gaze held him for a solid beat. Her smile began to fade as the moment lengthened and he hadn’t replied.
Neville finally exhaled. “No.”
“No?” she asked, the coy smile slowly returning.
He sighed. “No, Pansy, I’m not as thoughtful with other members of the staff and faculty. Just you.”
“I thought so. Why didn’t you say hi the other evening in The Three Broomsticks?”
“I didn’t want to interrupt whatever was happening with you and Draco.”
“There’s nothing happening with Draco and me; he’s one of my dearest friends. He’s practically a brother to me.”
“Oh. Well.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and grinned. Turning towards her fully now.
“Yes, oh, well.” She laughed and they stared at each other grinning.
“Can I help you with the Mooncalf dung?” She asked, grimacing as she finished the question.
“No,” he laughed as well. “But you can come keep me company while I muck about in the dirt and dung.”
He took a step forward as she met him there. Still grinning, he bent his head down and kissed her. They smiled into each other as he lifted his hands to cup her face. They pulled away after a few minutes, breathing slightly heavier, but still smiling.
He extended an arm and she looped hers through it as they amiably strolled down the castle lawn, the full moon illuminating their steps and longing looks.
“Do you have any plans Friday evening?” Pansy asked.
“No, why?”
“Some friends of mine have opened a new pub in Diagon Alley, The Iron Maiden. Come with me Friday, don’t say maybe.”