Fated Denial

Fated Denial

He beamed at his reflection in the mirror. His grey eyes sparkled with pride and every sandy-brown lock of hair on his head was positioned perfectly. Taking the robe from the hook where it always hung, he placed it around his shoulders before clasping it with his gift.

The pin didn't seem to have a sender, but it was much too good to be hidden in the bottom of some drawer. He shrugged off any thoughts of a secret admirer and quickly came to the conclusion that it was a gift from his grandmother. She must have been very proud of him. After all, he had finally finished his education, soon his life would lead on from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, leaving him to make his own mark; however small it may be.

Straightening his robes one last time, he picked at the embroidered emblem on his left breast before walking out of the room, heaving one last sigh at the dormitory he would never sleep in again.

The seventh years all looked perfect. Their smiles were bright and their eyes sparkled with joy; all for the same reasons that his did. His friends ran up to him and congratulated him as soon as he entered the hall. They were just as shocked that he - Neville Longbottom - had passed all of seventh year; even Potions.

Not wanting to make a fool of himself on this important day, he politely excused himself from his friends and cautiously searched for his seat among the other graduates. After a time, he found his name, magically etched into his assigned chair. Seating himself down, he turned to look at the young lady seated next to him.

Her blonde hair was drawn from her face in a simple braid, which had already begun to unravel, leaving strands to fall about her delicate face. Her violet eyes were focused on the book that she seemed quite absorbed in.

Neville couldn't help but sneak a glance at her every now and again while he waited for the ceremony to begin. Compared to him, she was perfect. Her slender nose eventually gave way to her high cheekbones and arched eyebrows. Her ears were rounded except at the tips, which were pointed, but not obviously so. He'd noticed this time and time again over the past five years and couldn't help but compare her to the Muggle visions of elves; how wrong they really were!

He was no longer the dumpy, clumsy one of the year. It was true that many ugly ducklings eventually became swans, even though not everyone noticed it. Whenever his grandmother saw him, Neville couldn't help but laugh at her comments, 'my, haven't you grown' and 'soon, all the young witches will be after you'. He knew this wasn't really the case; he had Harry and Malfoy to compete with and they were the regular casanovas. Always finding themselves swamped with the younger girls, from all four houses. Harry more so than Malfoy; the Slytherins still considered themselves to be royalty.

But still, Neville had changed. He'd grown taller, and his weight had distributed evenly. He still managed to maintain an air of innocence - his grandmother claimed it was his eyes, so trusting and youthful - and he still wasn't as smart as the others, but he had tried. This, he was proud of.

He noticed the teachers slowly taking to the raised platform at the head of the hall. The audience quietened and he glanced sideways to see if she was still lost in her book. She was; her brows furrowed, making he appear deeply enthralled. Turning stealthily to gain a better view, he spotted Harry in the crowd, seated next to Lisa Turpin, and almost waved, but resisted after a second when his thoughts were clouded. Certain that it was a trick of light, he turned to see the girl's lips suddenly curve into a smile; seemingly because of his innocent glimpses but most likely due to an enjoyable or favourite moment in the book.

She, the girl next to him.

Her, Pansy Parkinson, the girl who rarely smiled.

Folding her book and placing it in her lap, her lips once again formed the typical Slytherin pout; the look of indifference and superiority. Sighing, her breath caught a wisp of hair and she absentmindedly pushed it behind her ear.

Realising he was staring, Neville blushed and turned to face the platform.

The ceremony was longwinded and boring, but Neville didn't mind. It gave him the opportunity to gaze, from the corner of his eye, at her. He felt as though someone was watching him too, but he just couldn't work out who it was. It had to be someone behind him.

Lisa's speech as Head Girl was less than endearing; full of the academic achievements of the students and the hopes that she has of them all succeeding in the future. Harry however, kept the audience in stitches with his brave tales of how life at Hogwarts is never the same two days in a row. Neville couldn't help but smirk as he heard Harry mention one of his Potions mishaps - covering Snape in potion the colour of sour custard - and he was certain that he heard her - Pansy - stifle a giggle at the same remark.

That was so long ago now, but it was really the only true memory he still had of her. Perhaps the only time he'd really seen her and talked to her; he could still remember rushing out, too frightened that he'd say the wrong thing to her when she gave him his textbook.

Cursing silently to himself, he reassured his memory that it hadn't really occurred that way, that he'd twisted reality.

Wriggling uncomfortably in his seat, he accidentally brushed her hand with his. Not realising, he left it there until he felt movement underneath. Turning to see, he found her pale hand wrapped in his. Blushing profusely, he quietly apologised.

"It's quite alright," she replied automatically, eyes not moving from the front platform. She still hadn't removed her hand from his.

Taking the liberty, he silently folded his arms in front of his chest and slid down his seat, trying to pretend that he wasn't there.

He knew there was no chance of that one day that remained in his memory being real; there was too much difference between them.

"Excuse me," persisted the voice.

"Huh, what?" muttered Neville as his eyes fluttered open and he found himself face to face with Pansy.

"You fell asleep in the middle of the ceremony," she answered flatly, her eyes skirting the surroundings, but not looking at him. "I thought I should wake you. After all, it would be most embarrassing if others were to know that you were asleep."

Her voice was rigid, rehearsed and her accent wooden; almost as though she didn't really want to be conversing with him.

He scanned the area around him and discovered Pansy's clones, Morag and Millicent, staring at her and sneering.

"Oh, okay then, thankyou," he stammered without thinking and rose from his seat before he spotted his grandmother in the crowd that was flocking towards the graduates.

Neville politely thanked the other parents when they congratulated him. They were all so courteous and kind; they all felt sorry for him, he knew it.

"Gran," he whispered into the old woman's ear, partly hidden underneath her new hat, adorned with peacock feathers, "I'm just going to wait outside."

"Okay dear," she replied before continuing her conversation with Seamus' mother.

The courtyard was quiet and empty, just the way he liked it. He took the opportunity to walk through it one last time before he noticed that he wasn't alone. There was somebody seated on the steps near the entrance, their face hidden by a book.

He walked closer, hoping not to attract their attention and cause them to move.

It was Pansy and as he drew nearer, he saw her eyes glance over the cover before she once again closed the book and stood up. Walking towards him, she folded her arms across her chest and stared at the ground.

"Too noisy in there for you too?" she whispered as she drew within hearing distance.

"Yeah, and too stifling," he muttered bashfully, his foot scuffing the pavement.

She looked up at him and smiled - it still seemed strange, but it made her look like a different person -, "I was hoping that you might be out here."

"Why?" he asked, one eyebrow raised in interest.

"I just wanted apologise."

"For what?"

"Everything that I - and the other Slytherins - have done over the past seven years. You didn't deserve it," she said, her eyes averted to his chest.

"It's okay," he replied, "it happened to everybody."

"But we were especially mean to you. Well, Draco was. You didn't deserve that."

"No worries," he assured her, shocking even himself, "I managed to survive, didn't I, and as my Gran always says 'whatever doesn't kill you'-"

"Can only make you stronger," she laughed, finishing off the old proverb. "I guess so then."

He looked down at the ground, not entirely certain of what to say to her, but sure that the one thing he really wanted to tell was well without reason.

"Well, it was nice knowing you Pansy," he stammered, unable to think of anything more polite.

"You too, Neville. I was a pity that I didn't get to know you better," she responded shyly, looking up at him, her eyes glistening with something that may have been hope.

"Yeah, me too," he said, scuffing his foot against the pavement, "me too."

"I always thought you were the bravest Gryffindor," she confided.

"Thanks, and I always thought you were the nicest Slytherin."

She blushed and turned to the open doors of the Hall; "I guess everyone's going home now."

"It looks like it," he agreed, "good luck with the future Pansy."

"Yeah, you too. All the best, you deserve it."

"You know where to find me if you ever need to talk," he said before he'd even realised it, "I'm only ever an owl away."

She laughed and before she could stop herself, she hugged him, "thanks for everything Neville."

She was warm and gentle. Slowly and cautiously, Neville placed his arms around her delicate frame. He couldn't help but feel as though she may shatter if he squeezed too hard.

"Pansy, Pansy," came the call from the Hall. It sounded like Millicent looking for her friend.

Abruptly, the pair pulled apart, their eyes reflecting the same unfortunate sadness.

"I guess this is goodbye then," sighed Neville.

"I guess so," she responded, her shoulders shrugging as she glanced over her shoulder to her quickly approaching friend.

"Goodbye Pansy," he whispered as he quickly placed a kiss on her cheek before backing away.

"Goodbye Neville," she replied before turning to run to her friend.

"Geez, you really do deserve all that they say about you, Neville Longbottom," muttered Neville, loud enough so that none but himself could hear, "you are as stupid as they say. You had a chance mate, and you blew it."

Turning, he took one last glance over his shoulder to see her re-enter the Hall and disappear from view.

"Damn," she vehemently cursed to herself under her breath as she stalked over to Millicent. The 'if only's and 'what if's filtered through her head as she extinguished any chance they'd ever have again.

Neville and Pansy were never to be; they both knew it even if they didn't understand fully.

But still, there was always the 'owl post'

Kimberley Sparks December 2002