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Chapter Text

Neville stared into the fireplace of his living quarters with a deep frown. He leaned back against the overstuffed armchair that faced the stone hearth, one hand dragging over his face and the other resting over the front of his trousers. 

“Bloody fucking idiot,” he smacked the palm of his hand against his face and groaned. She’d wanted him to ask, she’d definitely expected him to ask. She’d been looking at him with that little upturned smirk, her eyes bright and glinting up at him with mischief and a little bit of hope. She’d batted her eyelashes at him, bit her plush, pink lips, and stroked her fingers over his arm as she spoke. She’d walked clear across the grounds to ask him to clip a little extra dittany for her this month, it was quidditch playoffs and the students were always pushing themselves and coming to her on the daily with superficial wounds, she’d explained. She would have seen him at dinner, she could have asked him then. She could have owled, could have sent one of her students but she'd trudged from the infirmary to greenhouse five to hunt him down and ask him herself. There was no way she didn’t return his growing romantic feelings and yet…

He pictured her biting her lip again as she apologized for barging in on his free period. She knew his schedule better than he did. He imagined tucking the bit of stray black hair that had fallen in her face behind her ear and touching the pads of his fingers to her neck. He thought of how her heart might have been racing, being alone with him, as his had been. He wondered if she’d shut herself in her own living quarters after seeing him, with her face flushed and her mind full of sinful thoughts. Was she thinking of him? With her hand down the front of her knickers, cursing him for not being brave enough to ask her on a bloody date? The image had him hard and throbbing against his trousers in seconds. He pulled his cock out and squeezed it once, just to take the edge off and he groaned her name out loud in his empty bedroom, “Pansy.”

The bitterness of regret soaked his tongue and the air around him was laden with his shame and frustration. He stroked himself slowly, thinking about how it might have been her hands on his body, had he plucked up the courage to confess his feelings weeks ago. He’d care for her so well, he knew he could, he wanted to so bad. He’d lay her down on his bed, or hers, touch and kiss and worship every inch of her skin. He thought of her in the clawfoot tub he had back at Longbottom Manor, he pictured her body stretched out on a bed of wildflowers, he imagined her perched atop his work bench in his personal greenhouse; her little pencil skirt rucked up over her hips and his face buried between her thighs. 

“Oh Merlin, fuck, Pansy,” he tightened his fist, pumping his cock faster now as he thought of bending her over the work bench, holding onto that skirt for leverage and pounding into her tight, wet heat. She’d feel so good, so fucking good, on his cock, he just knew it. “Gods, fuck, yes!” he groaned, his voice filling the small space. He pictured making her come; she’d be clawing at the wood and crying out his name and he’d feel her cunt tense and relax around him as she rode wave after wave of the pleasure he wrought from her. He wouldn’t stop, fuck he wouldn’t stop, until she was begging him. 

“Gods, Petal, you're so beautiful. Come on, love, fuck! I’m right there, so close, Pansy–” he arched against the chair as he came and then slouched, exhausted and disgusted with himself. 

He’d never heard the soft rap at the door, nor the scurrying footsteps that hurried away once he’d reached his peak with her name on his lips. 

Pansy didn’t let herself think until she’d slammed her own door closed and slumped against it, panting and staring at her own sodden fingers. She could not believe she’d done that. Pressed her ear against Neville’s door and listened while he pleasured himself with her own hand down her knickers. She’d had to silencio herself before she gave herself away with her incessant whimpering. She’d finally decided to confront him over his cowardice and corner him into asking her out, but there had still been that one tiny voice in her head wondering if he simply wasn’t interested. That voice was certainly quiet now. 

Once her body and mind settled she finally noticed the large wrapped box waiting for her at her desk. She approached it slowly and cautiously, until she saw the note attached to the top that addressed the gift to her, from a secret admirer. Pansy pursed her lips, was this Neville’s plan? He couldn’t muster the courage to ask her out in person so he sent her a cheeky gift instead? Pansy loosened the velvet ribbon and carefully pulled apart the thick wrapping to reveal a small, potted plant. This was a Neville gift if she’d ever seen one. It looked like honeysuckle but it smelled peculiar, much more potent than one would expect. But, if it was just honeysuckle, why was Pansy’s skin suddenly on fire? Why was her heart suddenly pounding? Why was the throbbing between her thighs, that had just faded away, suddenly back with a burning vengeance?

Chapter Text

The walk down to the greenhouses had never felt so tedious. Pansy was shuddering and holding onto the package containing the plant so tightly, her fingers ached. An ache that paled in comparison to the throbbing soreness between her thighs as she strode quickly down darkened corridors and swept down staircases. She nearly collided with the new Charms professor, Roger Davies, who was rushing in the opposite direction in a similar panicked hurry. He opened his mouth, likely to apologize, but Pansy gave him a haughty two finger salute and took off through the archway that led out to the sprawling grounds. 

She was sweating, furious and panting by the time she reached the greenhouse that held the entrance to his living quarters. She tore the door open and stormed inside to find him at the center of the greenhouse, his arms elbows deep in soil and a stricken look on his face at her intrusion.  

“Pansy?! What’s happened? Are you–” he glanced down at the package in her hands and back to her face, “Are you ok?”

“Why did you send me this? What’s happening to me?” Her hands shook as she opened the package and he quickly hurried over to her to look inside.

“What? Pans– oh fuck!” he stumbled backward, his eyes wide and horrified, and Pansy startled, dropping the package to the floor and violently upending the honeysuckle. Dust and Pollen surged upward in an aggressive spray and neither of them reacted quickly enough to avoid taking a lungful. Neville turned from her and she watched, panicked, as he shivered. 

“Neville–”

“That’s silphium honeysuckle, Pansy, and I did not send it to you.”

Pansy swallowed, roughly, her mouth suddenly dry, her voice came out hoarse, “You didn’t?”

“Of course not,” it came out strained and he gripped the work bench with white knuckles, “Fuck, fuck, Pansy, you need to leave.”

She stepped toward him, desperate to feel those muscles work under her palms and he hissed when she pressed her hand to his arm. 

“Pansy, do you know what,” he paused, taking a deep breath as she ran her hand over his shoulder to touch the bare skin of his neck, "what wedded bliss wine is?”

Pansy jerked her hand back like his skin had burned her. It practically had. Wedded bliss wine was a pureblooded horror story. Mothers passed down the threat of it to scare their daughters into obedience. It was worse than liquid amortentia, it made you so desperate for your husband you would do anything he asked and if your husband decided you weren’t up to par, he could deny you and the wine would tear through your veins and burn you from the inside out. Without the relief of sexual intercourse, you’d die. 

“This is the plant that the wine is made from, it’s illegal to cultivate it or harvest it wild. It’s near impossible to get your hands on, where did you get it?”

“The package was in my room,” Pansy whimpered, holding herself together with her arms wrapped around her chest as her skin seared and her heart rate soared. 

“You need to leave, send a patronus to Nott, or– or Malfoy, or whoever, to help you–”

“Neville–”

“No, I can’t.” His voice broke and he pushed himself further away from her like it killed him to do it, “I won’t do that to you, please go, you being here is agony, Pansy, please.”

“I don’t want Theo or Draco, Nev, please look at me,” she reached back out to him, fingers itching to dig themselves into the skin of his back. She hovered them over his shoulder, the sparks between them volatile and suffocatingly insistent. 

“I can’t.” He was begging, begging her to touch him, begging her to leave.

“Neville, I want you.” She tried to tilt his face to her but he reeled back, shaking his head.

“No you don’t, it’s just the honeysuckle–”

“It’s not, Nev, look at me!” She shouted and he jumped. But then slowly, looked up at her with wide pleading eyes. “I feel like I might die if you don’t touch me and it has nothing to do with the honeysuckle,” she pushed a hand into his soft, sandy blonde hair and he groaned.

“How am I supposed to trust that?” He frowned, but leaned into her touch. His hands flexed against the work bench, he was rapidly losing control of himself.

She bit her lip, remembering how needy she’d been for him as she listened to him outside his door. But as she thought it, she said it out loud, “I heard you earlier.” 

“You, you what?” He blinked, inching closer to her and trying desperately to keep his breathing steady.

“In your quarters,” she pointed to the heavy door at the back of the greenhouse that led to his rooms. “I heard you…” she stepped closer to him, “touching yourself, to the thought of me, saying my name,”

“Pansy–”

“I touched myself too,” she gasped, instinctively grasping at her breast through her blouse and his eyes darted down to lock onto her hand. 

He snapped his mouth shut and inhaled sharply through his nose. 

“Right there, on the other side of the door. I heard you moan my name and I had my hand down the front of my knickers so fast it would’ve made your head spin,” she pulled her blouse loose from her skirt and pulled it smoothly off over her head. She flicked open the clasp at the back of her bra and dropped it to the floor with her top. She could hear him gasping for air. 

“Pans–”

She leaned back against the bench, hissing at the way the edge bit into her back. The sharpness dulled her need for a single perfect second before it roared back with a vengeance. She toyed with her nipples, trying to relieve the ache if he wouldn’t do it for her, “I was so wet, Nev, and I came so fast.”

“Fuck.” He pressed forward, sinking his hands into her hair and tugging thick strands between his fingers. He inhaled deeply and his eyes glazed over, like the scent of her hit him harder than the pollen. 

She dropped her nipples to grab onto his shoulders and she captured his gaze, “I want you, and it has nothing to do with the honeysuckle. But, Nev, I fear that we may actually die if you aren’t inside me soon so please, swallow your bloody chivalric inclinations and fuck me.”

He groaned, surging forward to slant his mouth over hers. He scooped her up by the backs of her thighs and set her gently onto the work bench, holding her thighs apart with tense, rough hands. Her skirt slid up to her waist and he pushed her legs open wider to slot himself between them, pressing his hardened length against the soaked front of her knickers. 

“Oh gods, Nev, inside now. Please. Niceties, later!” She vanished her knickers and he moaned loudly at the sight of her bare cunt before aggressively shoving down his trousers and letting his freed cock slap against her inner thigh. The closer they got to the actual act, the faster she felt her inhibitions fly out of her grasp. She balked at the sheer heft of his cock, so overcome by the mind-melting pollen she felt saliva pooling on her tongue at the sight of it. 

“Merlin, Pans, stop looking at it like that,” he said with another throaty groan that cut off into a gasp when she reached down and took a firm hold of his length to line it up with her cunt. She shifted forward on the bench and locked her ankles around his waist, hauling him forward and his cock began rubbing against her, “Oh gods, oh gods, wait, w-wait, fuck, Pans, wait a minute,” he stammered, eyes wide and frantic and then he bowed forward and slammed his palms on the work bench on either side of her, “FUCK! Fuck, Pansy, I’m sorry!” 

She pouted, still trying to take him inside when she looked down and saw her pussy coated in his cum. She ran her fingers through the mess he’d made of her, massaging it into her skin before sucking those fingers into her mouth and moaning around them. Her eyes rolled back as the taste of him coated her tongue and set her nerves on fire. 

“I’m, gods, I’m still hard, Pans– fuck, I can, I can still–” he trailed off and she felt him grip her thighs and she gasped as he slid forward, feeding his cock into her little by little. He was stretching her cunt so fiercely she felt tears prick her eyes. Her body arched back as a nearly painful climax slammed into her and her awareness zeroed in on his cock pushing her to her limits. Her mouth dropped open and if she had the faculties to cry out his name she would’ve. She could only scream as she felt her muscles tense around him so tightly he winced. He moved his unfairly large hands to her waist and Pansy groaned as his thumbs nearly met over her bellybutton. She pushed herself up so she could see and then immediately dropped her head back with a breathless moan. He wasn’t even halfway in. The way her cunt was splayed around him was fucking obscene. His eyes were focused on it as he pulled back and pushed forward, working a little more of his cock inside with each thrust. 

“Ok?” he asked, his voice strangled like he was using every ounce of his willpower to not slam into her and fuck her to death. 

She could only nod, couldn’t tell him she’d never been more ok in her entire life. Just nod and dig her nails into his arms while she rode the seemingly never ending wave of pleasure. 

“Fuck, Petal, you feel so good,” he finally stilled and let out a slightly choked sound as he stared down at where they were joined. “So perfect– tight, fuck– better than I imagined,”

Relief flooded her body as her orgasm receded and the pollen worked its way out of her system. Now there was just him, just him and all of the ways she still needed and wanted him. She took a shaky breath, letting him rock into her steadily. “How did you imagine it, Neville,” she said with a gasp, gripping onto his forearms. 

He flushed, biting his lip. She dug her heels into his lower back, flexing her hips up to meet him thrust for thrust and his sins spilled passed his lips like a torrent.

“I imagined this, pounding you into this bench, I imagined taking you gently in front of the fireplace in my quarters, I pictured bending you over a bed in the infirmary– oh gods– I imagined finding you, fuck, tangled up in my devil’s snare,” he snapped his mouth shut and his face paled. Pansy just whimpered, trying to ignore how much wetter his admission made her. He studied her face and slid a hand down to stroke at her clit, “Do you like that, Pans?” 

She whined again, slipping her hands from his arms to his neck and flexing her fingers, digging her nails into the skin at the base of his skull with a jerky nod. 

“Picture it, Petal, your limbs stretched out wide, unable to move, unable to do anything but feel my touch, my mouth on you, my cock deep inside you,” he punctuated his words with a particularly firm and deep thrust and she bucked off the bench with a cry. “My devil’s snare is very well trained, Petal, very responsive to my touch,” he circled her clit with his thumb. 

“Nev!” she groaned. 

He smirked, “So responsive, much like you, sweet girl,” 

“I’m gonna come again, Nev,” it came out like a plea, like she was going to fall off a ledge and she was begging him to catch her. 

“I have you, Petal, let go,” he leaned over her, his arms caging her in on either side as he latched his mouth onto her neck and she clung to him. He bit into her skin and soothed his tongue over the marks, he sucked lightly at her ear and whispered toothrotting praise to her as she rapidly climbed her peak. 

She crashed hard back down to Earth with her arms locked around his neck and his voice lulling her into domesticity like she was one of his plants. He snapped his hips into her, a ragged sob into her shoulder and then he was filling her, his spend soothing the residual burn from the pollen and fully clearing her mind like a sharp wind to fog. He cradled her face in his hands and they watched as the lust-induced haze drained from one another’s eyes. 

“You still want me, Pans?”

“Even more now, Nev.” 

He schooled his features, suddenly very serious, “I’d like to take you out.”

Pansy laughed, she couldn’t hold it back. She cackled as Neville looked down at her with a lovely flush spreading over his cheeks and his hopeful smile drooping into a look of concern. 

“I’ve been desperate– bloody desperate– for you to ask me out for weeks, Neville Longbottom! Now here we are, your obnoxious cock still inside me, and you finally pluck up the nerve.”

“Obnoxious?” 

“It’s obscene, Nev, it could be its own person,”

“Come on, Pansy–”

“Truly, does it receive its own post?” 

“Pans.”

“I should send it a thank you note after this.”

“Pansy.” 

“Oooh, he makes me come twice and now he thinks he can scold me.”

“I could make it three times if you stop being a bloody menace,” he straightened up, trailing his hand across her breasts and swirling his fingers over her stomach. 

Her breath hitched and she bit back a grin, dropping her head back against the bench. She let herself smile softly, happy to soak up his touch without the urgency and discomfort of the pollen. The pollen. She sat up sharply and he sobered, reaching up to stroke her neck and cheek, soothingly. 

“Pans?”

“You didn’t send me the honeysuckle,” she muttered softly and his face hardened. 

“No.” 

“So who did?” She grimaced at the thought of whoever sent it to her finding her in the state she’d been in. It was a violation, her skin itched and she felt suddenly sick. 

He pursed his lips, deep in thought, as he charmed them both clean and started redressing. She righted herself quickly before hopping off the work bench and walking carefully behind Neville, putting as much space between herself and the offensive gift as she could. 

He incendio’d the plant with a dark glare and waved his wand at a charmed broom and dustpan in the corner of the greenhouse to sweep away the remaining ash. 

“Not even useful as fertilizer, but McGonagall can still get whatever evidence she needs from the ashes,” he grumbled. He looked at her thoughtfully, “You said it just appeared in your rooms?” She nodded. “So it wasn’t sent by owl, likely left there by someone on the grounds, maybe faculty? If they knew how to get into your rooms, probably someone with impressive knowledge of wards and protective charms–” he stopped and then groaned, covering his face with his hands. 

“Nev, what is it?”

“Bloody Davies,” 

“Roger Davies?!” 

“He borrowed a book on rare plants last month, never bloody returned it, I forgot– so fucking stupid. He said he wanted to put together an unconventional bouquet for someone he’d planned on courting– fuck’s sake, he even bloody asked me about you! He asked if we were together!”

“What?”

“I was so worried about him figuring out I was mad about you, I didn’t even consider how weird it was that he was asking in the first place!” 

Pansy stared at him, stunned. She remembered running into Davies in the corridor near the infirmary. Was he on his way to find her then? Was he planning on stopping her, when she thought he was bloody apologizing? Suddenly grateful for the first time in a long time for her bitchy instincts, Pansy huffed at the audacity. 

“This was my fault, Pansy, I’m so sorry.” 

She whipped her head to face him and shoved his shoulder, “That’s rubbish, Neville, it is not your fault that Roger Davies is a slimy fucker. That git is so fired. AND arrested, my man has connections in the ministry, you see.” Pansy smiled as she imagined Potter and the Weasel coming to whisk Davies away to Azkaban on her behalf.

Neville just stared darkly ahead, it made her shiver. “That’s if there’s enough of him left to arrest.” 

“Neville!” 

He looked up at her, somewhat surprised at himself but still seething. He seemed to be caught between feeling murderous and chastised. 

Pansy felt her lips curl into a wicked grin, “That was the sexiest bloody thing I’ve ever heard,” 

He snorted, tension melting off of his shoulders, “Yeah, Pans? You want me to kill someone for you?”

“Would you? If it’s not too much trouble,” She stepped over to him and curled her arms around his neck, pressing herself to his chest and smiling innocently up at him. 

He bent down to touch his forehead to hers and smirked, “I’ll see if I can pencil in a murder between teaching periods.” 

She kissed him before threading her fingers into his hair with a soft sigh, “Fired and arrested will suffice but your face just then? Fuck, Nev, I might be more turned on now than I was on the pollen!”

“Good to know,” he smiled against her lips but then pouted when she pushed off of his chest and strode toward the door, dragging him behind her by the hand. “Where are we going?”

“To McGonagall, to report Davies and then, you’re taking me out, remember?” 

“Tonight?” 

“I don’t usually fuck until the third date, so you’ve got a lot of making up to do and you,” she pointed down at his trousers and he gawped at her. “You will have to wait a bit.” 

“Please don’t talk to my dick like a person,” he groaned, flushing brightly. 

“Then don’t fuck me like it deserves its own recognition.” 

He huffed out a laugh and then made a soft resigned sound, “Just promise you won’t do it in public.” 

“But what if I like to do it in public?” 

“Merlin’s bollocks, what have I gotten myself into?” 

“You love me!” She said, skipping forward and twirling herself under his arm. He tucked her into his side and beamed down at her. He didn’t disagree.

Chapter Text

She shook on the bench as he bent over her, mumbling sweet nothings into her hair. Over a year together and his voice still made her shiver. 

“Incarcerous,” Neville muttered into Pansy’s neck. He stood back and watched as the burgundy satin ribbons flew out of his wand and curled around her wrists and ankles, securing her to the work bench. She tugged on each restraint, testing the give and finding none. Her arms were stuck high above her head, crossed at the wrists and fastened to the edge of the bench, while her legs were spread wide, each ankle tied and held in place in two of the corners. He stepped beside the table and bent over her, casting a shadow over her face and chest. She wriggled as she felt his rough palms ghost over the skin of her arms, checking the ribbons at her wrists to ensure they weren’t too tight. He leaned further forward and kissed her cheek, “Are you comfortable, Petal?”

Pansy pouted, desperate to rub her thighs together to soothe some of the ache she felt in her core. She’d been thinking about this all day and by the time she arrived at the greenhouse, her knickers were nearly soaked through. “I’d be more comfortable if you had less clothes on, Longbottom.”

He tutted at her, “Now, that doesn’t sound like my sweet, patient Pansy, does it?”

Pansy snorted, “Patient isn’t exactly what I’d–mmmph!” her voice became suddenly muffled by a mouthful of what tasted like cold, wet lace. Pansy’s eyes widened and she felt herself grow exponentially wetter, he’d stuffed her knickers into her mouth! His thumb stroked across her chin and then dipped to flick at her nipple, causing her to groan against the lace and tilt her hips, desperately searching for stimulation. 

“Patience is something you’ll be learning today, Petal.”

Pansy’s skin burned under his knowing gaze, the flush spread all the way across her chest and stomach, her cunt throbbed. She closed her eyes tight, trying to escape whatever smug smile he’d inevitably let creep onto his face at her torture. Then something cold, blunt and soft nudged against her and her eyes flew open. Neville was still standing at her side, observing her and she jerked her head forward to look down the length of her blushing, naked body. 

She’d learned what they were called from Granger, who’d become rather loose-lipped at the last wine night she’d attended at the Weasley-Potter household. A dildo, a silicone muggle sex toy that resembled a cock. This one seemed to resemble one cock in particular if its girth were any indication. She tore her eyes away from the sparkly pink toy trying to slip its way through her dripping folds, to glare at her boyfriend. 

“It’s not quite the same size,” he said with a shrug, stepping close to her and dropping his voice to whisper into her ear, “they didn’t have one big enough.” he nipped at her jaw and she gasped, another wave of pleasure rippling through her. The toy slicked its way through her arousal and slid in eagerly, drawing a whine from her throat that had Neville chuckling into her neck before he stood back. 

She watched him wave his hand and the dildo pushed in to the hilt before withdrawing and building an agonizingly steady pace that was just on the side of too gentle. She squirmed on the work bench, complaining into the gag in her mouth. Neville’s smirk told her that, while he couldn’t hear her frustrated ranting, he could imagine it well enough. 

“I’ve got some work to do still–”

Pansy screeched indignantly into the lace and Neville smirk only grew. 

“I’ll get to you when I’m finished, it shouldn’t take too long, Petal, I promise.” 

He crossed the room, out of Pansy’s field of vision and she heard him shuffling through the rows of plants he kept on the far side of the greenhouse. 

Snip…snip….snip-snip. 

He was bloody pruning his flutterby bushes! She groaned loudly against her gag as the dildo picked up speed, plunging deeper into her and nearly hitting the spot inside her she hadn’t even known existed before Neville. Her pleasure was being kept just out of reach and it was going to drive her mad. 

Snip…snip…….snip. 

The only indication that Neville was still nearby was the soft sounds of him working. The clipping of his shears, the ruffling of the plants, the soft spray of water. 

Then she heard him make a grunt of exertion and whipped her head up to see him hefting enormous sacks of soil onto his shoulder. He’d removed his jumper, knotting it at his waist, and the muscles in his arms and shoulders strained and rippled as he shifted the soil in his arms before carrying it by her to deposit it somewhere she couldn’t see. He winked as he passed her and flicked his fingers in her direction. 

She practically bowed off the bench. A buzzing sensation focused on her clit had her yelping and whimpering into her knickers and tears pricked her eyes. She chanted his name into the lace, devastated but also a little relieved that he couldn’t hear her begging. She couldn’t feel her toes, the dildo drove into her deeper and faster, and her breaths came in ragged pants. Dampened by sweat and arousal, the air around her felt heavy and even more humid than one would expect from a greenhouse. 

A magical rush of air burst over her body and her skin erupted in gooseflesh. Her nipples tightened and she hissed at the overload of sensation as her body switched from hot and humid to cold and tingling. She cried out, the added tension in her body pushing her so precariously to the edge of pleasure she might have sobbed. Then as the sudden wind subsided, the warmth of the greenhouse washed back over her and she moaned, relaxing her entire body and her orgasm crested like a puzzle piece slotting into place. It left her loose and melted, pliable and pleased like she’d been nestled into the softest, most soothing of blankets. 

Neville was at her side then, dismissing the charms, withdrawing the toy slowly and untying her ankles. He carefully pulled her knickers from her mouth and she hummed affectionately. 

“Such a good flower, you are,” he praised, climbing onto the bench with her and wrapping her legs around his waist. 

She preened, “I am, I’m the best flower and I deserve a reward.”

“A reward, hm?” He caressed her still bound arms and snaked his hands reverently down her sides to her hips, twirling his fingers over her skin and smiling as she arched into his hands. 

She nodded and flexed her hips up, searching for him. She felt his cock, hard, heavy and much larger than the toy, brush against her inner thigh and she whimpered with need. 

“Is this what you’d like, love?” He took himself in hand and pressed slowly inside her. The stretch of him was so magnificent she bit her lip to keep from actually crying. 

“Yes, yes, please!” 

He pushed forth, seating himself fully and she tightened her ankles at his back, grinding her hips along with his thrusts. His cock dragged against that spot the toy was missing and she felt hot tears escaping the corners of her eyes as she kept them closed tightly. 

“Nev, oh gods, you feel so good, so good, so much better, I–” her words cut off as a baffled laugh escaped her at the overwhelming surge of emotion that accompanied the relief his cock was granting her. 

“I know, Petal,” he folded over her, snapping his hips against hers while caging her head with an elbow at either side so he could cradle her face in his hands. He kissed her, slipping his tongue into her mouth in time with his thrusts, lightly suckling at her lip as moans and whimpers poured from them both. 

Pleasure coiled tightly in her abdomen, the sparks shooting through her limbs and deep into her cunt as he fucked her, harder and harder, into the bench. He dropped one hand to slip between the bench and her body, lifting her with the hand splayed across her lower back. He held her to his chest, effortlessly, her back stretched into a delicate arch with her hands still fastened tight by the ribbons. The arch pushed her breasts up to his face and he eagerly took a nipple into his mouth to suck at softly. 

“I, fuck–” it was all she got out before the coil inside of her snapped and she came with a scream, frantically rocking her hips against him as her climax rolled through her, “Neville, Neville, Neville, gods, I love you.”

He dragged his tongue over her nipple to her neck and bit down with a deep groan as he followed her in ecstasy. He grumbled something against her skin and she felt the ribbons around her wrists vanish. She curled her aching arms around his neck to hold him to her. 

He kissed her neck, shoulders, jaw and lips, “I love you too, Pansy,” he whispered the words against her lips. 

He hurried off of her and gathered her up in his arms, carrying her briskly to the door at the back of the greenhouse that led to his rooms and, hopefully, to the shower inside. 

Hours later, when they were both bathed, rested and dressed, Pansy held his hand as they strolled down the cobblestone path in Diagon Alley to the Leaky Cauldron to meet some of their friends for drinks. Pansy had complained, at first, when they didn’t simply floo there. But the warm glint in Neville’s eyes when he told her he wanted to walk with her, made her acquiesce. So they’d apparated to one end of the alley and took a languid jaunt past different shops and stalls, chatting idly and sharing affectionate glances. 

Pansy paused outside Looking Glass Gem Gallery to ghost her fingers across the window that stood between her and a gorgeous set of antique engagement rings. One in particular captured her attention; an obscene glittering garnet in a shining gold setting. She had no way of knowing that Neville had already paid his vaults a visit, his hand deep in his trousers pocket clutching a velvet box that held an heirloom ring not dissimilar from the one Pansy was admiring. Neville smiled at her back, before gently nudging her along and leading her, not down the street toward the Leaky Cauldron, but instead to her favorite restaurant where a reservation for two awaited them.