Drabble: A Not Love Story in Four Parts
Title: A Not Love Story in Four Parts
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters/Pairing: Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Word Count: 489
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction set in the Harry Potter universe, all recognisable characters and settings are the property of J. K. Rowling and her associates. No money is made from this work.
Written for: MNFF's Brawl Drabble Round 4 over at the Three Broomsticks
Prompt: #2 [Rarepair & Setting: Hogsmeade]
Summary: All men are defined by moments
All men have defining moments in life. Neville Longbottom had four:
One. They'd been five years old. He would never forget the black-haired girl with the pug nose who pushed him to the floor at Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. He'd scraped his hands, and cried; she had called him a silly toad, stepped over him, and ordered a hot-fudge sundae. He left the shoppe in tears and a wounded pride; his grandmother had scolded him afterwards for letting a Parkinson push him around. Then she reminded him once more that he was a Longbottom, by Merlin's pants, act like it! By the time she had cleaned up his scrape, the girl was long gone, but Neville would never forget the air of self-importance the young girl projected and wished he could have an ounce of that self-righteous behavior to claim as his own.
Two. They'd been eleven years old, and bumped into each other on the Hogwarts Express. As he stood in the corridor asking people if they'd seen his toad, Neville couldn't help the feeling of déjà vu when Pansy pushed him against a carriage compartment, demanding he 'move you plebian' with a great sense of entitlement. He'd blushed and stuttered, and scrambled to move out of the way. Then he'd become angry with himself because what would his grandmother say if she'd seen this display? Neville wished even more ardently than before, that he could carry himself a bit of more self-confidence and do his grandmother proud.
Three. They'd been seventeen; it was the Battle of Hogwarts. She stood and announced to everyone gathered at the Great Hall that they turn Harry over to Voldemort. He'd stood there, and watched, conflicted, as this girl, whom he'd known his entire life, had the audacity to state her mind, with no regard for others, only considering her self-preservation. But by the age of seventeen, Neville had learned that Pansy Parkinson was a lot of things: arrogant, proud, entitled, and scared. Scared because her world was falling apart, and didn't know her place anymore. And for once, Neville could claim that he had a much more defined sense of self than Pansy Parkinson.
Four. They'd been twenty-three. Neville was a professor at Hogwarts; Pansy had opened a small tea house in Hogmeade after Madam Puddifoot closed hers. He'd become a regular client on weekends, and they shared a congenial relationship of business-owner and customer. One day she smirked at him and said, "I hated you growing up, just so you know, you knew your place in the world, it made me angry." Neville laughed at her words, and the scowl on her face.
And Neville learned that some times, it's not the people closest to you who define you, but the ones who challenge your sense of self.
"Ms. Parkinson, if you have a moment to spare, I'd like to tell you a story of when we first met."
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters/Pairing: Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Word Count: 489
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction set in the Harry Potter universe, all recognisable characters and settings are the property of J. K. Rowling and her associates. No money is made from this work.
Written for: MNFF's Brawl Drabble Round 4 over at the Three Broomsticks
Prompt: #2 [Rarepair & Setting: Hogsmeade]
Summary: All men are defined by moments
All men have defining moments in life. Neville Longbottom had four:
One. They'd been five years old. He would never forget the black-haired girl with the pug nose who pushed him to the floor at Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. He'd scraped his hands, and cried; she had called him a silly toad, stepped over him, and ordered a hot-fudge sundae. He left the shoppe in tears and a wounded pride; his grandmother had scolded him afterwards for letting a Parkinson push him around. Then she reminded him once more that he was a Longbottom, by Merlin's pants, act like it! By the time she had cleaned up his scrape, the girl was long gone, but Neville would never forget the air of self-importance the young girl projected and wished he could have an ounce of that self-righteous behavior to claim as his own.
Two. They'd been eleven years old, and bumped into each other on the Hogwarts Express. As he stood in the corridor asking people if they'd seen his toad, Neville couldn't help the feeling of déjà vu when Pansy pushed him against a carriage compartment, demanding he 'move you plebian' with a great sense of entitlement. He'd blushed and stuttered, and scrambled to move out of the way. Then he'd become angry with himself because what would his grandmother say if she'd seen this display? Neville wished even more ardently than before, that he could carry himself a bit of more self-confidence and do his grandmother proud.
Three. They'd been seventeen; it was the Battle of Hogwarts. She stood and announced to everyone gathered at the Great Hall that they turn Harry over to Voldemort. He'd stood there, and watched, conflicted, as this girl, whom he'd known his entire life, had the audacity to state her mind, with no regard for others, only considering her self-preservation. But by the age of seventeen, Neville had learned that Pansy Parkinson was a lot of things: arrogant, proud, entitled, and scared. Scared because her world was falling apart, and didn't know her place anymore. And for once, Neville could claim that he had a much more defined sense of self than Pansy Parkinson.
Four. They'd been twenty-three. Neville was a professor at Hogwarts; Pansy had opened a small tea house in Hogmeade after Madam Puddifoot closed hers. He'd become a regular client on weekends, and they shared a congenial relationship of business-owner and customer. One day she smirked at him and said, "I hated you growing up, just so you know, you knew your place in the world, it made me angry." Neville laughed at her words, and the scowl on her face.
And Neville learned that some times, it's not the people closest to you who define you, but the ones who challenge your sense of self.
"Ms. Parkinson, if you have a moment to spare, I'd like to tell you a story of when we first met."