Fic: The Legend of Felix (Neville/Pansy, Harry/Hermione, Hermione/Ron, Luna/Cake, PG-13)
Title: The Legend of Felix
Author: quietliban
Rating: PG-13
Prompt Set: 50.4
Prompt: #20 Talk
Word Count: ~1600 words
Summary: A liar believes that all others also lie. Harry confronts Neville about Pansy, while Luna talks to her imaginary friend Felix.
Warnings: A wandering narrative. Cake. There are mentions of cake.
Notes: For 100quills. Same drill as before, meant to sit within The End of All the Fighting 'verse. There is a list for it here. Also, I know I should wait til I write the bit regarding what happens to Ron before posting this, but I'm impatient and I want to know if this makes sense to anybody else not in posession of my mind.
The Legend of Felix
Neville sits at the end of the jetty. The sun is setting, and dusk turns the sky purple. He hears the footsteps, but doesn’t turn around. His fingers tighten on his wand and he breaths in, silently counting to three.
Harry sighs, and scratches the wood with his shoe. Neville feels relief.
“Hermione sent me to talk to you,” Harry says, and sits down beside Neville. Both of their feet hang above the ocean.
“What about?” Neville asks, although he knows already. He has seen the strange looks Hermione gives him.
“Pansy,” Harry says.
Pansy. Neville stares down at the water. He marvels at the green and blue. Of course.
“Pansy,” he repeats.
Harry runs a hand through his messy hair, and sighs again. “Are you sleeping with her?” The question is accusatory, and Neville is affronted. He grips his wand again. The smooth wood is comforting.
“No.”
Harry looks at him doubtfully, before turning to look out across the horizon. He can see the storm clouds in the distance. “Are you sure?” Harry asks. Neville can’t believe he is hearing this. Things between him and Pansy aren’t like that. At least Neville doesn’t want them to be. There is too much at stake. There is the fighting to take into account, the horcruxes, the Death Eater attacks, the missing persons… No, now is not the time to start whatever it is that has started between them. Neville doesn’t want it. Not now.
“It’s just that, well…” Harry continues, “Luna says that Pansy doesn’t sleep in their room anymore and that she sleeps with you in my old room.”
Neville feels his cheeks heat as the blood rises. “Pansy and I…” he trails off. He can’t deny that there is something. He feels calmed and confused by Pansy. She is all brittle edges and fragile purpose. They are not sleeping with each other, at least not in the sense that Harry means. They share a bed. They hold each other through the night. Besides even if he wanted to, Pansy wouldn’t…isn’t…doesn’t…
Neville sighs. Pansy is still in love with Draco despite everything that has happened and Neville knows that. He knows that.
“I’m not having sex with her, Harry.” Neville knows he’s blushing. He looks down pass his feet at the water. “We just sleep next to each other, like you and Hermione ever since Ron-“
Harry goes pale and draws in breath. Neville stops speaking. He doesn’t want to think about what happened to Ron or why he has his own room and isn’t sleeping in the living room anymore.
The crash of water against the jetty fills the silence.
-
“You mustn’t think like that, Harry.” Hermione sits in the lounge. Books are piled around her; on the sofa, on the floor, in her lap. She has a quill sticking out from behind her ear, and parchment rests on any space not taken up by books.
Harry looks livid. His face is red and his fists are clenched. “Mustn’t I?”
Neville looks at them both. He feels so tired. He is sick of this yelling. There is so much yelling in the cottage; Harry yells at Hermione; Pansy yells at Harry; Hermione yells at Luna. Luna doesn’t yell at any body. She just smiles serenely and says cryptic things. Neville wants it to stop.
“We’ll do it,” Neville tells them all. He is sure. They will destroy the cup because they have to. They will destroy the cup because there isn’t any other choice. They must destroy the cup and so it will be done.
Harry just looks at him before storming into the kitchen. Pansy shouts something out behind him, but Neville doesn’t catch what it is. He only sees Harry’s gesture in return.
“Fucker,” Pansy mutters and gets out of her armchair languidly. Cigarette packet and blue lighter in hand. Hermione opens her mouth to say something but settles with a glare. Pansy snorts.
“I’m going to make a cake,” Luna announces, shoving the books off her lap. “Do you want to help me, Neville?”
Neville shakes his head mutely and takes up the nearest open book from the floor. He sits it on top of the one he was already reading.
-
Pansy’s drool creates a dark patch on his t-shirt. Neville looks down at her. She is still sleeping; her side rising and falling gently. Neville’s arm is dead under her weight. He doesn’t want to move.
The morning sun peeks through the blinds and Neville groans. Pansy shifts her eyes flickering and her hand curling its hold on his shirt tighter.
Neville pushes some of her out of her face. “Pansy,” he says softly. “Pans.”
Her eyes flicker open and it takes a moment before they focus. “Wha--?” She blinks.
Neville smiles. “I need my arm back,” he tells her.
Pansy stares at him. “Why are you getting up?” She moves and Neville pulls his arm back towards his body. It feels soft, all wobbly and weird.
“Things to do,” he says and flicks the covers away. She shakes her head before snuggling back down into the bed.
Neville pauses to watch her before reaching across and wrapping his dressing gown around himself.
-
Harry is sitting on the jetty when Neville finds him. He smiles at Harry, jubilant because they may have just found a way to destroy the cup. “You’ll never guess what Luna found.”
Harry shakes his head. There are tears down his cheeks that Neville didn’t notice before. Neville stays where he stands. “You alright, mate?” he asks.
Harry shakes his head. “She won’t love you,” he tells Neville. “She won’t ever love you.” Neville feels a cloud of confusion pressing in on him. He can guess who Harry is talking about, but why would Harry be crying?
“That’s not the point,” Neville replies slowly. He lowers himself down so he sits beside Harry.
“Hermione,” Harry says. Neville starts to worry. This is not what he had in mind when he went off in search of Harry to tell him the good news. “Hermione,” he says again followed by a sob. There’s something different in his tone now.
Neville stays silent.
“She’s pregnant.” Harry doesn’t meet Neville’s eyes when he says this. He turns to face him, but his green eyes won’t meet Neville’s. “She’s pregnant, Neville.”
Neville feels a wave of nausea. “Is it-?”
“She doesn’t know…. oh shit.” Harry punches the decking. “We never meant for it to happen…oh God, Ron.”
Neville doesn’t know what to do, or what to say. He just sits there and watches the waves crash onto shore.
-
Hermione doesn’t say a word when Pansy lights up in the kitchen. She raises her eyebrows momentarily before clearing away her and Harry’s plates and leaving the room. It’s storming outside. The rain tumbles down in sheets, and Neville watches as lightning flashes across the sky, lighting up the clouds.
“I love summer storms,” Pansy remarks. Neville turns to her. A haze of smoke surrounds her and she’s smiling. It’s not a true smile, but a grotesque abomination, smug and knowing. “A sickle for your thoughts?”
Neville sighs and sinks back into his chair. He stars at the crumbs of Luna’s cake on his plate. “You don’t want to know.”
Pansy ashes the cigarette on her plate. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know, Neville.”
He glances through the kitchen door into the lounge. Hermione is there with Harry. They’re talking in fierce whispers.
“Would you have joined the other side if what happened didn’t happen?” Neville asks. He watches as her face turns into a scowl and she puts out her cigarette, discarding it even though she is nowhere near finishing it.
“I don’t condone murder,” she replies her voice icy and her eyes hard. She gets up and stalks out of the kitchen, passing through the living room and out the French doors onto the patio in the storm.
Later Neville remembers that Pansy’s mother was a half-blood.
-
Molly Weasley sits in the cottage kitchen a cup of tea steaming before her. Hermione sits opposite her and Neville tries not to wonder what is going through both their minds.
He doesn’t leave the lounge room until Pansy comes down and slams the French doors. Neville gets up and follows her. Pansy doesn’t speak to him.
“I missed you last night,” Neville tells her. Pansy looks at him before taking a sip of the coffee she has brought with her.
“If I had been a different sort of daughter, I might have.” She takes another sip and crosses her legs. She is now sitting down on the patio decking. “My father was always very distant though, and my mother never believed the rot that Father used to spout. She said it was archaic rubbish which had been disproved. I wouldn’t have joined them,” she meets Neville’s eyes as she says this, “not for my father, not for Draco, not for anyone. Does that answer your question?”
Neville nods and pretends that he doesn’t see the tears in her eyes.
“Good.” She looks back into the house. “Why did Granger perform a paternity charm, anyway?”
Neville splutters. Pansy has one eyebrow arched and amusement across her face. He doesn’t answer. She shrugs.
-
Harry runs into him in the hallway. “It’s not mine.”
Neville stares at him for a moment before he comprehends. “Ron’s then?”
Harry nods.
-
Footsteps sound on the jetty wood. Neville grips his wand tightly before turning to see Pansy. He smiles. She frowns.
“I can’t help it you know,” she tells him. “I’ve tried and tried but I can’t get him out of my head.”
“Draco,” Neville says and can’t help but wonder at the graveness of his voice.
“I’m obsessing, I know.” She shakes her head and her hair springs out wildly.
“No.”
“No?” she repeats softly.
“No,” he nods.
Pansy laughs and Neville believes it’s the first time he’s heard it sound like that; true, genuine and carefree.
“Luna tells me I don’t deserve you.” Pansy moves to sit by him. She reaches across to take his hand from his wand. Her hand is firm and her fingers hold his tightly.
“Luna also talks to Felix.”
Pansy looks at him. “Who’s Felix?”
Neville shakes his head. “Felix?” He shrugs. “A legend maybe? You can never tell with Luna.”
Author: quietliban
Rating: PG-13
Prompt Set: 50.4
Prompt: #20 Talk
Word Count: ~1600 words
Summary: A liar believes that all others also lie. Harry confronts Neville about Pansy, while Luna talks to her imaginary friend Felix.
Warnings: A wandering narrative. Cake. There are mentions of cake.
Notes: For 100quills. Same drill as before, meant to sit within The End of All the Fighting 'verse. There is a list for it here. Also, I know I should wait til I write the bit regarding what happens to Ron before posting this, but I'm impatient and I want to know if this makes sense to anybody else not in posession of my mind.
The Legend of Felix
Neville sits at the end of the jetty. The sun is setting, and dusk turns the sky purple. He hears the footsteps, but doesn’t turn around. His fingers tighten on his wand and he breaths in, silently counting to three.
Harry sighs, and scratches the wood with his shoe. Neville feels relief.
“Hermione sent me to talk to you,” Harry says, and sits down beside Neville. Both of their feet hang above the ocean.
“What about?” Neville asks, although he knows already. He has seen the strange looks Hermione gives him.
“Pansy,” Harry says.
Pansy. Neville stares down at the water. He marvels at the green and blue. Of course.
“Pansy,” he repeats.
Harry runs a hand through his messy hair, and sighs again. “Are you sleeping with her?” The question is accusatory, and Neville is affronted. He grips his wand again. The smooth wood is comforting.
“No.”
Harry looks at him doubtfully, before turning to look out across the horizon. He can see the storm clouds in the distance. “Are you sure?” Harry asks. Neville can’t believe he is hearing this. Things between him and Pansy aren’t like that. At least Neville doesn’t want them to be. There is too much at stake. There is the fighting to take into account, the horcruxes, the Death Eater attacks, the missing persons… No, now is not the time to start whatever it is that has started between them. Neville doesn’t want it. Not now.
“It’s just that, well…” Harry continues, “Luna says that Pansy doesn’t sleep in their room anymore and that she sleeps with you in my old room.”
Neville feels his cheeks heat as the blood rises. “Pansy and I…” he trails off. He can’t deny that there is something. He feels calmed and confused by Pansy. She is all brittle edges and fragile purpose. They are not sleeping with each other, at least not in the sense that Harry means. They share a bed. They hold each other through the night. Besides even if he wanted to, Pansy wouldn’t…isn’t…doesn’t…
Neville sighs. Pansy is still in love with Draco despite everything that has happened and Neville knows that. He knows that.
“I’m not having sex with her, Harry.” Neville knows he’s blushing. He looks down pass his feet at the water. “We just sleep next to each other, like you and Hermione ever since Ron-“
Harry goes pale and draws in breath. Neville stops speaking. He doesn’t want to think about what happened to Ron or why he has his own room and isn’t sleeping in the living room anymore.
The crash of water against the jetty fills the silence.
-
“You mustn’t think like that, Harry.” Hermione sits in the lounge. Books are piled around her; on the sofa, on the floor, in her lap. She has a quill sticking out from behind her ear, and parchment rests on any space not taken up by books.
Harry looks livid. His face is red and his fists are clenched. “Mustn’t I?”
Neville looks at them both. He feels so tired. He is sick of this yelling. There is so much yelling in the cottage; Harry yells at Hermione; Pansy yells at Harry; Hermione yells at Luna. Luna doesn’t yell at any body. She just smiles serenely and says cryptic things. Neville wants it to stop.
“We’ll do it,” Neville tells them all. He is sure. They will destroy the cup because they have to. They will destroy the cup because there isn’t any other choice. They must destroy the cup and so it will be done.
Harry just looks at him before storming into the kitchen. Pansy shouts something out behind him, but Neville doesn’t catch what it is. He only sees Harry’s gesture in return.
“Fucker,” Pansy mutters and gets out of her armchair languidly. Cigarette packet and blue lighter in hand. Hermione opens her mouth to say something but settles with a glare. Pansy snorts.
“I’m going to make a cake,” Luna announces, shoving the books off her lap. “Do you want to help me, Neville?”
Neville shakes his head mutely and takes up the nearest open book from the floor. He sits it on top of the one he was already reading.
-
Pansy’s drool creates a dark patch on his t-shirt. Neville looks down at her. She is still sleeping; her side rising and falling gently. Neville’s arm is dead under her weight. He doesn’t want to move.
The morning sun peeks through the blinds and Neville groans. Pansy shifts her eyes flickering and her hand curling its hold on his shirt tighter.
Neville pushes some of her out of her face. “Pansy,” he says softly. “Pans.”
Her eyes flicker open and it takes a moment before they focus. “Wha--?” She blinks.
Neville smiles. “I need my arm back,” he tells her.
Pansy stares at him. “Why are you getting up?” She moves and Neville pulls his arm back towards his body. It feels soft, all wobbly and weird.
“Things to do,” he says and flicks the covers away. She shakes her head before snuggling back down into the bed.
Neville pauses to watch her before reaching across and wrapping his dressing gown around himself.
-
Harry is sitting on the jetty when Neville finds him. He smiles at Harry, jubilant because they may have just found a way to destroy the cup. “You’ll never guess what Luna found.”
Harry shakes his head. There are tears down his cheeks that Neville didn’t notice before. Neville stays where he stands. “You alright, mate?” he asks.
Harry shakes his head. “She won’t love you,” he tells Neville. “She won’t ever love you.” Neville feels a cloud of confusion pressing in on him. He can guess who Harry is talking about, but why would Harry be crying?
“That’s not the point,” Neville replies slowly. He lowers himself down so he sits beside Harry.
“Hermione,” Harry says. Neville starts to worry. This is not what he had in mind when he went off in search of Harry to tell him the good news. “Hermione,” he says again followed by a sob. There’s something different in his tone now.
Neville stays silent.
“She’s pregnant.” Harry doesn’t meet Neville’s eyes when he says this. He turns to face him, but his green eyes won’t meet Neville’s. “She’s pregnant, Neville.”
Neville feels a wave of nausea. “Is it-?”
“She doesn’t know…. oh shit.” Harry punches the decking. “We never meant for it to happen…oh God, Ron.”
Neville doesn’t know what to do, or what to say. He just sits there and watches the waves crash onto shore.
-
Hermione doesn’t say a word when Pansy lights up in the kitchen. She raises her eyebrows momentarily before clearing away her and Harry’s plates and leaving the room. It’s storming outside. The rain tumbles down in sheets, and Neville watches as lightning flashes across the sky, lighting up the clouds.
“I love summer storms,” Pansy remarks. Neville turns to her. A haze of smoke surrounds her and she’s smiling. It’s not a true smile, but a grotesque abomination, smug and knowing. “A sickle for your thoughts?”
Neville sighs and sinks back into his chair. He stars at the crumbs of Luna’s cake on his plate. “You don’t want to know.”
Pansy ashes the cigarette on her plate. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know, Neville.”
He glances through the kitchen door into the lounge. Hermione is there with Harry. They’re talking in fierce whispers.
“Would you have joined the other side if what happened didn’t happen?” Neville asks. He watches as her face turns into a scowl and she puts out her cigarette, discarding it even though she is nowhere near finishing it.
“I don’t condone murder,” she replies her voice icy and her eyes hard. She gets up and stalks out of the kitchen, passing through the living room and out the French doors onto the patio in the storm.
Later Neville remembers that Pansy’s mother was a half-blood.
-
Molly Weasley sits in the cottage kitchen a cup of tea steaming before her. Hermione sits opposite her and Neville tries not to wonder what is going through both their minds.
He doesn’t leave the lounge room until Pansy comes down and slams the French doors. Neville gets up and follows her. Pansy doesn’t speak to him.
“I missed you last night,” Neville tells her. Pansy looks at him before taking a sip of the coffee she has brought with her.
“If I had been a different sort of daughter, I might have.” She takes another sip and crosses her legs. She is now sitting down on the patio decking. “My father was always very distant though, and my mother never believed the rot that Father used to spout. She said it was archaic rubbish which had been disproved. I wouldn’t have joined them,” she meets Neville’s eyes as she says this, “not for my father, not for Draco, not for anyone. Does that answer your question?”
Neville nods and pretends that he doesn’t see the tears in her eyes.
“Good.” She looks back into the house. “Why did Granger perform a paternity charm, anyway?”
Neville splutters. Pansy has one eyebrow arched and amusement across her face. He doesn’t answer. She shrugs.
-
Harry runs into him in the hallway. “It’s not mine.”
Neville stares at him for a moment before he comprehends. “Ron’s then?”
Harry nods.
-
Footsteps sound on the jetty wood. Neville grips his wand tightly before turning to see Pansy. He smiles. She frowns.
“I can’t help it you know,” she tells him. “I’ve tried and tried but I can’t get him out of my head.”
“Draco,” Neville says and can’t help but wonder at the graveness of his voice.
“I’m obsessing, I know.” She shakes her head and her hair springs out wildly.
“No.”
“No?” she repeats softly.
“No,” he nods.
Pansy laughs and Neville believes it’s the first time he’s heard it sound like that; true, genuine and carefree.
“Luna tells me I don’t deserve you.” Pansy moves to sit by him. She reaches across to take his hand from his wand. Her hand is firm and her fingers hold his tightly.
“Luna also talks to Felix.”
Pansy looks at him. “Who’s Felix?”
Neville shakes his head. “Felix?” He shrugs. “A legend maybe? You can never tell with Luna.”