Fic: (Mistakes Are Not Regrets, But) Regrets Are Mistakes (Pansy/Neville, PG)
Title: (Mistakes Are Not Regrets, But) Regrets Are Mistakes
Author: quietliban
Rating: PG
Prompt Set: 50.4
Prompt: #30 Work
Summary: Pansy is a reporter for The Daily Prophet. Neville is a famous herbologist turned Hogwarts professor. They live happily ever after.
Author's Notes: For 100quills, table here. This is NOT part of The Fighting Arc.
Her name appears in print; two words, fourteen letters in a line of black ink.
It shouldn't capture Neville's attention.
-
Her article in The Prophet is brief, short, and didactic. Pansy Parkinson doesn't want you to think.
Neville stares at it; the printed words in black ink are sensationalist, but they're also true, and that-that is something else.
-
She approaches him.
He sits at the bar, nursing a beer, patiently waiting for Harry to show. Pansy's hair is short, sleek and severe. She smiles, her red lips revealing white teeth. Neville looks away.
"You're quite the celebrity," she says and Neville has to look at her now, because she's said something. He shrugs.
"But apparently not very verbose."
-
He has red lipstick on his chin, and red nail marks on his arms, his shoulders, his back, his chest and he isn't quite sure how it all happened.
Perhaps it started with a kiss.
-
His father dies on a Tuesday, and his mother dies the following week on a Thursday morning.
There's an article on the enduring love of 'Frank and Alice Longbottom: War Heroes' in The Prophet that afternoon. The title is followed by two words and fourteen letters in a row of black ink.
-
He breaks it off with her. It's messy and angry and windows are shattered by stray magic. Glass is everywhere.
He stares at the mirror, cracked from top to bottom and her reflection is staring back at him with hard eyes.
"I'm not a shield."
Pansy smirks, her eyes changing, filling with dark amusement. "No, of course not: I'm not Harry Potter."
-
She stops writing. Her name doesn't appear in print under the titles of outrageous stories. He cannot find the fourteen letters of her name that he loved so well when he looks.
She stops writing. She quits The Prophet.
Neville takes the position at Hogwarts. Eleven years pass.
-
The Sorting is his least favourite times of the year.
'Parkinson, Frances' sits on stool waiting for the Sorting Hat to be placed upon her head. Neville can barely tear his eyes away from her.
She looks like his mother.
-
"Professor Longbottom."
Pansy's voice is polite but unfriendly. Neville stares. She's gotten older and her hair is long now, softer; it curls around her shoulders.
"You didn't tell me."
"No."
"You should have told me."
-
Frances is in Gryffindor. Neville is her Head of House.
Frances doesn't know that he's her father.
-
The book is thick. The title stretches across the cover embossed in silver, The Final Stand Unmasked. Her name sits under it, still fourteen letters long.
Neville stares at it. It captures his attention.
-
Frances is fifteen and stares at him from the other side of his desk. Her eyes are like Pansy's and Neville swallows.
"Mother told me."
Neville folds his hands, noting the dirt under his fingernails and the tremble that spreads through his entire body. He breathes in.
"I see."
-
She approaches him in the Three Broomsticks. Neville doesn't smile at her.
"Frances wants to know you."
"She already knows me." His grip around his beer tightens.
"She knows you as a professor."
He looks at her, really looks at her, and Pansy looks tired, and isn't because of the bags underneath her eyes. Pansy looks tired in her eyes.
"It would have been different," he says quietly more to himself than to her. Pansy shakes her head.
"No, it would have been worse."
-
Frances is seventeen and she wants to marry Alexander Smith.
Pansy disapproves; it's the first time in seventeen years that she and Neville agree on something.
That doesn't stop Frances eloping with Alexander on a Wednesday afternoon.
Author: quietliban
Rating: PG
Prompt Set: 50.4
Prompt: #30 Work
Summary: Pansy is a reporter for The Daily Prophet. Neville is a famous herbologist turned Hogwarts professor. They live happily ever after.
Author's Notes: For 100quills, table here. This is NOT part of The Fighting Arc.
Her name appears in print; two words, fourteen letters in a line of black ink.
It shouldn't capture Neville's attention.
-
Her article in The Prophet is brief, short, and didactic. Pansy Parkinson doesn't want you to think.
Neville stares at it; the printed words in black ink are sensationalist, but they're also true, and that-that is something else.
-
She approaches him.
He sits at the bar, nursing a beer, patiently waiting for Harry to show. Pansy's hair is short, sleek and severe. She smiles, her red lips revealing white teeth. Neville looks away.
"You're quite the celebrity," she says and Neville has to look at her now, because she's said something. He shrugs.
"But apparently not very verbose."
-
He has red lipstick on his chin, and red nail marks on his arms, his shoulders, his back, his chest and he isn't quite sure how it all happened.
Perhaps it started with a kiss.
-
His father dies on a Tuesday, and his mother dies the following week on a Thursday morning.
There's an article on the enduring love of 'Frank and Alice Longbottom: War Heroes' in The Prophet that afternoon. The title is followed by two words and fourteen letters in a row of black ink.
-
He breaks it off with her. It's messy and angry and windows are shattered by stray magic. Glass is everywhere.
He stares at the mirror, cracked from top to bottom and her reflection is staring back at him with hard eyes.
"I'm not a shield."
Pansy smirks, her eyes changing, filling with dark amusement. "No, of course not: I'm not Harry Potter."
-
She stops writing. Her name doesn't appear in print under the titles of outrageous stories. He cannot find the fourteen letters of her name that he loved so well when he looks.
She stops writing. She quits The Prophet.
Neville takes the position at Hogwarts. Eleven years pass.
-
The Sorting is his least favourite times of the year.
'Parkinson, Frances' sits on stool waiting for the Sorting Hat to be placed upon her head. Neville can barely tear his eyes away from her.
She looks like his mother.
-
"Professor Longbottom."
Pansy's voice is polite but unfriendly. Neville stares. She's gotten older and her hair is long now, softer; it curls around her shoulders.
"You didn't tell me."
"No."
"You should have told me."
-
Frances is in Gryffindor. Neville is her Head of House.
Frances doesn't know that he's her father.
-
The book is thick. The title stretches across the cover embossed in silver, The Final Stand Unmasked. Her name sits under it, still fourteen letters long.
Neville stares at it. It captures his attention.
-
Frances is fifteen and stares at him from the other side of his desk. Her eyes are like Pansy's and Neville swallows.
"Mother told me."
Neville folds his hands, noting the dirt under his fingernails and the tremble that spreads through his entire body. He breathes in.
"I see."
-
She approaches him in the Three Broomsticks. Neville doesn't smile at her.
"Frances wants to know you."
"She already knows me." His grip around his beer tightens.
"She knows you as a professor."
He looks at her, really looks at her, and Pansy looks tired, and isn't because of the bags underneath her eyes. Pansy looks tired in her eyes.
"It would have been different," he says quietly more to himself than to her. Pansy shakes her head.
"No, it would have been worse."
-
Frances is seventeen and she wants to marry Alexander Smith.
Pansy disapproves; it's the first time in seventeen years that she and Neville agree on something.
That doesn't stop Frances eloping with Alexander on a Wednesday afternoon.