![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wook77I wrote this for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hp_springsmut for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bryonraven.
Title: Moments in Memory
Written for:bryonraven
Pairing: Neville/Ginny, mentions of Dean/Ginny, Harry/Ginny
Wordcount: 4940 ish
Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Flangst, het
Summary: Neville remembers by scent, sound, taste, touch and feel. These are moments in his memory of growing up, Ginny and growing up with Ginny.
A/N: Many thanks to my betas -yodels, janicechess and anael. Any remaining mistakes are my own. All plant information retrieved from this website.
Neville fell in love when he was fourteen. He didn’t know at the time that what he felt was love but all the same, he fell in love. The moment, even years later, was vividly clear. The library smelled a bit musty, as if even the Ravenclaws were avoiding the bastion of knowledge in favor of hands-on learning. The light filtering through the windows was murky as the sky outside was a bit overcast, possibly an omen if he were to believe the tripe that Professor Trelawny tried to feed them. His mouth tasted as if he had been chewing cotton balls, whether from the mustiness in the library or another source, he couldn’t tell. The voice in his head was whispering to him to turn back, he’d been sorted into the wrong House, he was going to be turned down, shooed away, ridiculed. When Neville wiped his hands down his pants, the wool scratched as it absorbed the sweat from his palms.
His feelings at the time could never be described as loving; scared, apprehensive, nervous, sick and nasesous were all much better ways to describe how he felt. That juxtaposition is really what made Neville remember the moment so vividly. To go from such a low to such a high was truly not foreseen. Perhaps he hadn’t read the omen of the murky light properly.
As Neville crossed the library, his nervousness grew and the voice in his ear echoed louder and louder in time with his heartbeats. Uncle Algie’s voice taunted him now as well, seconding the other voice’s dire predictions. However, he kept soldiering on until he finally stood beside his goal.
“Err, excuse…” His voice cracked and Neville was mortified. “…err, that is, excuse me, Ginny?”
When Ginny Weasley looked up, Neville’s heart went from a racing beat to a dead stop. The world slowed as dust motes danced in a beam of murky light that fell directly on Ginny. A trickle of sweat snaked its way down Neville’s back as he stood, ramrod straight, as she looked at him. Her expression was slightly puzzled, making the inner voices’ pleas to leave grow louder.
“Yes, Neville?” Her voice was soft as she questioned him.
“I, err, that is, I wondered if you would…” His voice broke off as he watched her stare up at him. As the moment stretched on, Ginny’s expression became more and more confused. He was mucking this up something major, he thought with despair. The flowers in his hand were slowly being crushed as he panicked. A thorn pricked his thumb as he tightened his grip.
“Yes, Neville?” As Ginny questioned him again, Uncle Algie’s voice rang out, “Coward!” and Neville found his courage.
“I was wondering if you’d do me the honor of accompanying me to the Yule Ball?” Thrusting out the flowers, Nevill rushed the words but at least he’d gotten them out.
Neville braced himself as he waited for Ginny to turn him down. He would, were he Ginny. Not that he would be Ginny as that would require him to be a girl and he wasn’t a girl. Not at all, he was a boy so either he would have to be a girl or Ginny would have to be a bo--
“Neville? Did you hear me?” With dawning horror, Neville realized that he hadn’t heard Ginny’s response due to his internal debate about the whole boy/girl thing.
“It’s ok, honest, Ginny. I don’t really mind. I’ll find someone else, really. Sorry to bother you.” It was too far of a stretch to think that she would consider going with him, not when Harry was still lacking a date. As he turned to go, the scrape of a chair startled him. A hand on his arm held him back.
“You didn’t hear me, did you?”
Neville refused to turn around to look at Ginny. It was mortifying enough without having to see her face and so he merely shook his head.
“I said ‘yes’, Neville.”
With those four words, Neville’s heart began to beat again and a feeling that he would later describe as love filled his heart. At that moment, had Professor Snape walked through the door, Neville would’ve been able to defend himself with no qualms. As it was, he nodded his head as she sniffed the flowers.
Neville’s heart broke when he was sixteen. Dean Thomas had put the moves on Ginny and she had responded while Neville had been stuck with Gram over the summer. They were friends, Neville and Ginny, according to her. She only saw him, Neville, as a friend. The moment he learned this was emblazoned on his memory even more deeply than that first burst of love. He hadn’t known what love was but Neville recognized heartbreak immediately.
The Gryffindor Common Room was cheery. The fire danced and shone its light in ever-changing patterns against the tapestries and bricks. Its pop and crackle was hidden under the rumble of laughter and the ringing of girlish giggles. The couch was soft under him as he sat and watched the scene across the room. His mouth tasted of pain and heartbreak as he bit his lip to keep the hurtful words inside. The scent of vanilla filled the air and Neville hated it, hated everything at that moment.
“Dean…” Ginny’s voice whined playfully, “…stop that! I’m ticklish!” She giggled as Dean dug his fingers into her sides, ignoring her demand.
Ginny shifted on Dean’s lap as he continued his assault. Her giggles filled the air and Neville tightened his grip on his Herbology book. It hurt to watch as the couple continued to play.
“Oy! Stop that! You’re hurting my eyes and turning me off my food!” Ron’s voice rang out as he walked down the steps and caught sight of Ginny and Dean. The chocolate frog in his hand continued to wiggle half-heartedly.
“Shove it, Ron!” Ginny stuck her tongue out at her brother as she leaned back against Dean, the tickling forgotten for the moment.
“Yeah, shove it, Ron!” Dean echoed and the pair erupted in laughter. Ron turned red in the face and started to cross the room. Neville knew he was wrong to hope that Ron would punch Dean in the face.
“Leave them alone, Ron. Come on, let’s go over by Neville.”
Neville really didn’t want anyone to sit near him. He was afraid that, if they asked him, he’d let fly all the vitriolic hurtful things that were in his heart right now. Uncle Algie, or the voice in his head that assumed Uncle Algie’s tone, chided him for his anger; after all, it wasn’t like they’d ever truly dated. Ginny hadn’t ever really been his.
“Alright, Neville?” The concern in Harry’s voice begged for a response but Neville didn’t give in. This was his own fault; he wouldn’t burden his friends with this. Not just because of the embarrassment level but also due to Ron’s overly protective instincts.
With overly careful motions, Neville released his hold on the Herbology book in front of him and looked at the pair beside him. Harry’s hair was messy, even for Harry. The observation distracted him just long enough for his quill to snap in his tightening grip. The broken edge pricked his thumb.
“I’m fine, perfectly and completely fine.” With a nod, Neville gathered up his books, now dotted with ink, and went upstairs.
Footsteps echoed up the stairwell after him. Sighing, Neville went to his bed and pulled the drapes closed. He hoped that if it looked like he was ready for sleep, whoever had followed him would go back down to the Common Room and he’d be left alone. Unfortunately, Neville underestimated Harry’s determination, as illustrated by Harry poking his head through the drapes.
“Are you sure you’re alright, Nev? You looked upset down there.”
Harry was far too observant for his own good, Neville thought uncharitably.
“I’m fine.” The disbelieving look Harry sported told Neville he hadn’t been very successful in his protestation.
“What’s wrong, Nev?” Neville merely shook his head. “I’m good at listening, you know.”
“Why don’t you tell me why you’ve been moping around lately instead?” Neville shot back.
That question was one that Neville regretted for the rest of the school year because the answer led to heartbreak. Harry proceeded to tell Neville about how much he cared for Ginny. Overly dramatic as it might be, Neville could feel pieces of his heart break off and slowly sink inside of him until they lay in a puddle in the pit of his stomach. Against Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom didn’t stand a chance.
Neville felt his heart start to mend when he was seventeen. Over the summer, he’d grown in height and confidence. The increase in height meant that the last of his pudge had disappeared. The increase in confidence meant that he was now willing to deal with his heartbreak by moving on. Harry deserved Ginny and, more importantly, Ginny deserved Harry.
The mending had finished during a moment that was indelibly etched into Neville’s memory. It was a warm day in June, the sunshine bright and cheery. There was a smell of rebirth and life in the air that warmed Neville’s heart as he tended to his plants in Greenhouse Four. School would soon be over but Neville refused to give up the feel of rich dirt around his hands. That feeling soothed him on the roughest days and inspired him to greater achievements on his best days. The buzzing of bees and the rustling of leaves provided him with a musical background to his ministrations as he moved around the greenhouse.
Moving over to a favorite plant, Neville trimmed a bit of dead growth away. Pulling his hand back, Neville realized that he’d pricked his thumb. Snapping off a leaf, Neville placed it on his tongue and sucked. The sweetness burst onto his tongue as raised voices intruded into his world.
Muttering to himself about the delicacy of the plants in front of him, Neville left Greenhouse Four only to encounter what would become the Final Battle. Drawing his wand, he entered the fray. By the end of the battle, Bellatrix Lestrange was dead, his parents were avenged and Voldemort’s reign of terror was over.
“Nev? Are you ok?” Ginny’s voice was soft in his ear as Neville stared at the chaos around him.
“I’m good, Ginny. You?” Neville turned as he asked. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as before for Neville to look at her.
“Voldemort is dead, Nev. Finally, he’s dead. Harry killed him!” Proud of the tiny stutter his heart gave at the exclamation, Neville found himself embraced by the jubilant girl. Completely still, Neville allowed the embrace but didn’t really return it. He wouldn’t, couldn’t allow himself to, else his heart might break again.
“Neville! Ginny!” Harry broke into the narrow world around Neville. Neville backed away from Ginny and waited for Ginny to embrace, kiss, love Harry. When it didn’t happen, Neville became curious. The two were merely speaking and there were no obvious signs of affection. Instead, it just seemed friendly.
“Nev? You alright there?” Harry was giving Neville a funny look. To cover his lapse, Neville moved until he was close enough to clap Harry on the shoulder.
“More importantly, are you alright there, Harry?” Harry grinned tiredly and Neville responded with a grin of his own.
As the three of them spoke, Neville’s heart mended with each friendly but not romantic gesture between Harry and Ginny.
Neville was finally able to identify that first feeling of love when he was twenty-three. That moment, like so many of the others, was firmly implanted in his memory. It was a crisp and beautiful fall day. There was a bit of a chill in the air that brought a flush to his cheeks. The air smelled of hope and hydrangeas while the trees rustled and leaves fell. It was a glorious day as far as Neville was concerned.
He slowly walked down the main thoroughfare of Hogsmeade until he reached the Three Broomsticks. It was a walk down memory lane for him. Memories of racing down this street, frantically trying to get to the last store before he had to head back to Hogwarts, made him smile. The shops might have changed but the memories lasted.
With a sigh, Neville pushed open the door. For just a moment, he was thirteen again and the thrill of the first time he walked through those doors assailed him. Holding the door, Neville’s hand drifted down and pricked itself on a splinter in the door.
The group sitting at their former “usual” table was nearly the same as it had been all those years ago during his Hogwarts days. A spouse here or there was added, but all the same, it was still Gryffindors and one lone Ravenclaw. Hermione and Ron were still arguing after all these years. Harry was still playing the peacemaker between them. Luna smiled vacantly at Neville while Seamus and Dean ribbed each other over some sport team or other. Ginny, for once, was unaccompanied by anyone.
“Oy, Neville! Get your lazy arse over here and help me settle a debate with Hermione!” Ron’s strident voice broke through the memories as Neville crossed the room.
“What can I get you, sweetie? The usual?” Neville nodded to the barmaid as he took his seat.
“What argument are you having now?” Neville’s grin belied his chastising tone.
“Hermione here thinks that book smarts are more important. I keep telling her that real life experience is more important. Which do you think?”
“I think you both are right, of course.” Ron laughed so Neville assumed what he’d said was funny and laughed softly in response.
“Don’t mind my brother, Nev. He’s an idiot and just can’t seem to accept it.” This time, Neville laughed completely as Ginny and Ron started bantering back and forth.
“I’m not idiot, Ginny!”
“Are too.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
“Am not.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.” The whole table erupted in laughter as Ron fell for Ginny’s gambit.
Over the next few hours, the group caught up with each other as they did every couple of months, depending on their individual schedules. Frequent laughter continued throughout until finally, real life intruded and the group started to break up.
“Neville? Can you stay a bit?”
Ginny’s request was unexpected but Neville acquiesced. After all, he’d been doing her bidding for years, now was not the time to change, especially when she wanted to spend time with him one-on-one. Eventually, they were the only ones left at the table.
“Can we…that is…” Neville had never seen Ginny at such a loss for words. “…do you mind if we take a walk?”
Again, Neville acquiesced. Outside, the air was still crisp and the leaves still rustled. The sun warmed his face as they walked along the same street Neville had just traveled a few hours previously. There were no words between them but it was comfortable. For just an instant, Neville was tempted to take Ginny’s hand but he pushed that wish aside.
When they reached the outskirts, Ginny slowed until the pair finally stopped. Neville watched as Ginny turned towards him. She appeared to be debating something. As she thought, Neville reached out and grasped a tiny rose. The thorn pricked his skin. A small dot of blood appeared.
“Why didn’t you ever ask me out again after the Yule Ball way back when?”
This wasn’t the question Neville had been expecting. Rather, he had been expecting something more like ‘would you take care of my plants while I travel’ or ‘do you have any recommendations for what I should put into a bouquet’.
“Err, what?” Neville wasn’t sure where the squeaking voice came from but he hoped it wasn’t his.
“Why didn’t you ever ask me out after the Ball? I waited, you know.” Ginny looked uncomfortable and Neville felt the same. This horribly awkward moment and that first feeling in the library, the pounding heart, the rushing buzz in his ear, all of it came back and Neville realized that he had felt love that first time.
“I, err, didn’t…that is, I thought…” He broke off as he realized he was rambling.
“You thought I didn’t care? You thought I wouldn’t want you?” Ginny’s voice sounded more and more like Molly’s every day, Neville observed to himself as she continued to demand answers he wasn’t sure he wanted to give.
“I’m sorry, Nev. I shouldn’t have brought it up and obviously you don’t want to talk.”
Frantically, Neville reached out a hand to stop Ginny from leaving as she turned on her heel.
“It wasn’t… I’m sorry, Ginny. I was trying to think of a response.”
As she continued to stare at him, Neville’s mind raced for an answer. He wasn’t sure where it came from, but suddenly, he found himself pressing his lips against hers. It was the first time he’d kissed her since that innocent kiss after the Ball.
Neville felt ecstasy for the first time when he was almost twenty-four. That first time was at the same time both his most and least favorite memory. The whole day, vibrant in his mind, was cloudy but there was a sense of love permeating everything, driving the clouds away. The smell of roses and peonies was in the air as Neville and Ginny walked away from his flat. Ginny’s hair was an especially vivid red as Neville held her hand while they strolled. The conversation was light and enjoyable, the words slipping off Neville’s tongue easily for once. There were birds chirping in the trees that dotted the pavement along their way.
It was four months after that impulsive kiss. The fear that accompanied the moment was forgotten in the aftermath of the joy of acceptance. Even now, Neville could taste Ginny on his tongue. Whether that was from the quick kiss a few steps back or that first breath-stealing kiss, he wasn’t sure. The first was realistic but the second was far more romantic.
Tonight, Neville planned on consummating their relationship. He’d insisted on a slow pace. The sentiment might have been old-fashioned but Neville wanted to show his respect for Ginny by waiting until she knew, deep in her heart and without hesitation, that he loved her for her. His nerves tingled in apprehension and anticipation but Neville shoved the feeling down and tried to live in the moment.
Dinner was a romantic affair. The service was impeccable as course after course appeared and disappeared while they continued a light-hearted conversation about their days and activities. Eventually, the crème brûlée was served with a flourish.
“Ginny?” Proud of the fact that his voice didn’t pause or crack, Neville reached out a hand. Ginny’s hand came out automatically to grasp his.
“Yes, Neville?” Her smile warmed his heart and reinforced his conviction that it was finally time for them.
His free hand held out directly in front of him, Neville slowly unclenched his fist. Sitting on his palm was a tiny flower petal. Whispering the spell, it enlarged to be a sprig of gooseberry.
“This is for you.” Neville held the leafy sprig until Ginny took it from him.
“Neville? You’re the plant guy, not me. Explain, please?” At her perplexed expression and question, Neville hurried to explain.
“It’s gooseberry.” The perplexed expression continued. “The Victorians believed that people could communicate with flowers. It means anticipation.”
“Does this mean…?” Ginny broke off the words but waggled her eyebrows suggestively.
As the blush lit his cheeks, Neville nodded.
“Then what the hell are we sitting around here for?” Thankful that he’d already taken care of the bill, Neville found himself tugged along behind Ginny.
The trip back to his flat was a blur as he raced along behind Ginny. There was no opportunity to inhale the lightly perfumed fragrance of blooms in the air or even to savor the feeling of expectation.
Before Neville was even ready, they were in his flat. The door slammed and Ginny pinned him to the door. The sharp stick of the gooseberry dug into his shoulder as she pressed against him. Hot lips pressed against his while an insistent tongue demanded entrance. With a sigh, Neville opened his mouth and a shiver raced down his spine when their tongues touched.
Unrelenting hands tugged at clothes, moving from his shirt to his belt back to his shirt. All too quickly, Neville found himself with his back against the door, his trousers pooled around his ankles and his prick sticking out of his pants. Ginny’s hand was firm and assured as it gripped his cock. It was too much, too soon, too overwhelming and Neville reached down to stop her assault.
“Ginny…” He panted as she tried to recapture his lips. “Ginny, can we get to the bedroom at least?”
Her shining eyes glinted before she started hauling him down the hall. Neville frantically tried to step out of his trousers but he wasn’t quick enough and fell into Ginny. With a grunt, they both collapsed onto the floor.
The breathless laugh underneath him made Neville’s face flame. He couldn’t believe he’d fallen on her. She was probably hurt or, at the very least, not quite so exuberant for the consummation. He would be, after all, if someone tripped into him and knocked him down. It was mortifying is what it was and…
“Neville? You’re not going to just lie there on me and not do anything, are you?”
It was hard for Neville to believe but his face flamed even more as he pushed himself up. His hand landed on the small of her back as he caught his balance midway. With a growl, Neville liberated himself from his trousers before reaching down a hand and helping Ginny up. Pulling too hard, Ginny landed against his chest with a thud. Neville dropped with a cry but, luckily, hit his back on the door.
Another breathless laugh bubbled out of Ginny’s lips before she pulled him, much more carefully this time, down the hallway. The gooseberry was getting a bit worse for the wear as she held it between their hands. The twig bit into his sweaty palm as Neville twisted to keep it from snapping in two as it hit the doorframe. He allowed himself a brief glance around the room and he was happy that he’d remembered to clean.
That was his last thought before Ginny pushed him onto the bed and leapt atop him.
“God, Neville…,” She paused to nip at his collarbone where it peeked out from between the sides of his shirt. “I’ve…,” another pause and Neville moaned as Ginny shifted down his chest, “wanted to do this for so long.”
Her hands roamed across his chest, pushing the edges of his shirt further out, trapping Neville’s arms to his sides within it. A hoarse shout spilled out of him when Ginny latched onto a nipple. With jerky motions, Neville sat up far enough to rip his shirt off the rest of the way.
Ginny, not anticipating the movement, tumbled backwards off the bed. Her teeth were still clamped to his nipple and his torso hung halfway off the bed.
“Nev…” More laughter and Neville found his erection wilting as this important moment became a comedy of errors, “does this mean you keep falling for me?”
Face flaming, Neville’s arms pinwheeled until he pushed himself back onto the bed. Ginny stood as he buried his face in his arms.
“Nev?” When her hand touched his shoulder, he flinched.
“I think this was a bad idea, Gin.” His voice was muffled by his arms as he mumbled.
“Look at me.” When he didn’t, she pulled at his arms and then his chin so that he was forced to look at her. Keeping his eyes clamped shut, Neville still attempted to resist. Gentle lips pressed against his.
“I love you, Nev. You aren’t perfect but neither am I. Come on, Nev, we’ve waited long enough.” Her lips tickled his as she spoke softly.
“I’m so sorry, Gin. This isn’t the way I planned it.” The lips moved away and Neville opened up his eyes.
“Neville, what part of imperfect is so hard to understand? I love you because you’re klutzy, not in spite of it. Kiss me.”
With a lunge, Neville kissed her, pouring all his love into that meeting of lips. With tentative hands, Neville slowly, button by button, bared Ginny’s chest. Reverently, he pushed her shirt down her arms and cupped her breasts. Her head arched back with a moan and Neville leaned forward to nip at the juncture of collarbone and neck. Hands rubbed up and down his back as he reached behind her and undid the clasp of her bra. The cups loosened and then slid off her skin. Quickly tossing the scrap of fabric to the side, he reached out, unsurprised to see his hands shaking, and cupped her unfettered breasts.
Pinching her nipples, Neville drew her breasts closer together. They fit into his hands perfectly as he rolled and tugged, pinched and caressed. Ginny’s little moans and stutters in her breath reassured Neville as he continued his ministrations.
Eventually, his hands drifted down her body to undo her trousers and then slipped them, knickers and all, down her legs. With a kiss to the arch of her foot, Neville started his way back up her long limbs. Pausing to nip or lick as he went, he finally reached the wet center. When he lipped at her, Ginny threaded her hands through his hair and pushed him closer.
A keening cry was his only warning as Ginny went over the edge. She didn’t pause to relish it, though, as she gently pulled Neville by the hair until she lay on top of him. His pants were pushed down his hips before Ginny forced him within her. It was almost too much for Neville and he had to bite his lip to keep from coming from the feeling that surrounded him. It felt like home.
Neville felt complete when he was twenty-five. That day, the flowers scattered around the flat that Ginny and he now shared filled the air with a cacophony of scents. Their varied colors made him smile as he placed the last bouquet and ducked into the loo to wait for Ginny to come home. His palms were slightly sweaty and he wiped them on the toilet paper. When it stuck, he grimaced and pulled it off. Nerves soured the taste on his tongue as he listened for the creaking front door to open.
“What in the world?” Ginny sounded puzzled as she came to the first bouquet. Neville could see it in his mind. She would reach for the Coreopsis Arkansa with a perplexed expression. The card would fall out and she would read it and know that they meant love at first sight. Neville could picture her confused smile as she put them down before continuing into the flat.
Neville imagined her coming to the next bouquet, this time it would be red chrysanthemum. The card would be read and she would know that they meant undying love.
“Oh, Neville.” It was right on cue and Neville smiled at the soft exclamation.
Next, in Neville’s mind he pictured her coming to the American Cowslip. Divine beauty wasn’t enough to describe how beautiful he thought Ginny was, but it fit the best from the language of flowers.
The beauty of the cowslip would be followed by the peach blossom. Its meaning of “I am your captive” proclaimed how truly devoted he was to her. The lesser celandine professed the joys to come. The currant confessed “Thy frown will kill me”.
“Oh, Neville, you wonderful man.” The heartfelt sigh bolstered his courage as he heard her enter the bedroom. There, ivy and ivy geraniums intertwined on the bed. Marriage and bridal favor interlinked as Neville held his breath. The loo door was cracked so that he could watch as she spotted the small jeweler’s box sitting in the heart of the arrangement. Her hands flew to her mouth and she simply stood and stared. The moment dragged on as Neville began to feel apprehension. Perhaps he’d rushed the proposal. Perhaps she didn’t understand. Perhaps it was over the top. Perhaps he’d…
“Neville? Are you around? Please?” He couldn’t tell anything from the whisper that escaped her lips. With trepidation, Neville pulled the door the rest of the way open and crossed the room.
“Ginny? I’ve loved you since I was fourteen. You have always brought sunshine into my world. Like these flowers, I wouldn’t be able to bloom without your light. Will you please,” he dropped to one knee as she turned around, “do me the honor of marrying me?”
With a cry, Ginny lunged into his arms, knocking them both to the floor. As they fell, lips pressed and kissed every available inch of skin on his face.
“Oh God, yes, Neville. Yes, yes, yes yes YES!”
And, there, surrounded by the smell of flowers, the taste of Ginny in his mouth, the sight of her fiery hair a curtain around them, the rough feel of the scratchy carpet under his head and the sound of her joyous acceptance, Neville was complete.
so...whatcha think?
hp_springsmut for bryonraven. Title: Moments in Memory
Written for:
bryonravenPairing: Neville/Ginny, mentions of Dean/Ginny, Harry/Ginny
Wordcount: 4940 ish
Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Flangst, het
Summary: Neville remembers by scent, sound, taste, touch and feel. These are moments in his memory of growing up, Ginny and growing up with Ginny.
A/N: Many thanks to my betas -
yodels, janicechess and anael. Any remaining mistakes are my own. All plant information retrieved from this website. By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes. – Macbeth
~~**~~
Neville fell in love when he was fourteen. He didn’t know at the time that what he felt was love but all the same, he fell in love. The moment, even years later, was vividly clear. The library smelled a bit musty, as if even the Ravenclaws were avoiding the bastion of knowledge in favor of hands-on learning. The light filtering through the windows was murky as the sky outside was a bit overcast, possibly an omen if he were to believe the tripe that Professor Trelawny tried to feed them. His mouth tasted as if he had been chewing cotton balls, whether from the mustiness in the library or another source, he couldn’t tell. The voice in his head was whispering to him to turn back, he’d been sorted into the wrong House, he was going to be turned down, shooed away, ridiculed. When Neville wiped his hands down his pants, the wool scratched as it absorbed the sweat from his palms.
His feelings at the time could never be described as loving; scared, apprehensive, nervous, sick and nasesous were all much better ways to describe how he felt. That juxtaposition is really what made Neville remember the moment so vividly. To go from such a low to such a high was truly not foreseen. Perhaps he hadn’t read the omen of the murky light properly.
As Neville crossed the library, his nervousness grew and the voice in his ear echoed louder and louder in time with his heartbeats. Uncle Algie’s voice taunted him now as well, seconding the other voice’s dire predictions. However, he kept soldiering on until he finally stood beside his goal.
“Err, excuse…” His voice cracked and Neville was mortified. “…err, that is, excuse me, Ginny?”
When Ginny Weasley looked up, Neville’s heart went from a racing beat to a dead stop. The world slowed as dust motes danced in a beam of murky light that fell directly on Ginny. A trickle of sweat snaked its way down Neville’s back as he stood, ramrod straight, as she looked at him. Her expression was slightly puzzled, making the inner voices’ pleas to leave grow louder.
“Yes, Neville?” Her voice was soft as she questioned him.
“I, err, that is, I wondered if you would…” His voice broke off as he watched her stare up at him. As the moment stretched on, Ginny’s expression became more and more confused. He was mucking this up something major, he thought with despair. The flowers in his hand were slowly being crushed as he panicked. A thorn pricked his thumb as he tightened his grip.
“Yes, Neville?” As Ginny questioned him again, Uncle Algie’s voice rang out, “Coward!” and Neville found his courage.
“I was wondering if you’d do me the honor of accompanying me to the Yule Ball?” Thrusting out the flowers, Nevill rushed the words but at least he’d gotten them out.
Neville braced himself as he waited for Ginny to turn him down. He would, were he Ginny. Not that he would be Ginny as that would require him to be a girl and he wasn’t a girl. Not at all, he was a boy so either he would have to be a girl or Ginny would have to be a bo--
“Neville? Did you hear me?” With dawning horror, Neville realized that he hadn’t heard Ginny’s response due to his internal debate about the whole boy/girl thing.
“It’s ok, honest, Ginny. I don’t really mind. I’ll find someone else, really. Sorry to bother you.” It was too far of a stretch to think that she would consider going with him, not when Harry was still lacking a date. As he turned to go, the scrape of a chair startled him. A hand on his arm held him back.
“You didn’t hear me, did you?”
Neville refused to turn around to look at Ginny. It was mortifying enough without having to see her face and so he merely shook his head.
“I said ‘yes’, Neville.”
With those four words, Neville’s heart began to beat again and a feeling that he would later describe as love filled his heart. At that moment, had Professor Snape walked through the door, Neville would’ve been able to defend himself with no qualms. As it was, he nodded his head as she sniffed the flowers.
~~**~~
Neville’s heart broke when he was sixteen. Dean Thomas had put the moves on Ginny and she had responded while Neville had been stuck with Gram over the summer. They were friends, Neville and Ginny, according to her. She only saw him, Neville, as a friend. The moment he learned this was emblazoned on his memory even more deeply than that first burst of love. He hadn’t known what love was but Neville recognized heartbreak immediately.
The Gryffindor Common Room was cheery. The fire danced and shone its light in ever-changing patterns against the tapestries and bricks. Its pop and crackle was hidden under the rumble of laughter and the ringing of girlish giggles. The couch was soft under him as he sat and watched the scene across the room. His mouth tasted of pain and heartbreak as he bit his lip to keep the hurtful words inside. The scent of vanilla filled the air and Neville hated it, hated everything at that moment.
“Dean…” Ginny’s voice whined playfully, “…stop that! I’m ticklish!” She giggled as Dean dug his fingers into her sides, ignoring her demand.
Ginny shifted on Dean’s lap as he continued his assault. Her giggles filled the air and Neville tightened his grip on his Herbology book. It hurt to watch as the couple continued to play.
“Oy! Stop that! You’re hurting my eyes and turning me off my food!” Ron’s voice rang out as he walked down the steps and caught sight of Ginny and Dean. The chocolate frog in his hand continued to wiggle half-heartedly.
“Shove it, Ron!” Ginny stuck her tongue out at her brother as she leaned back against Dean, the tickling forgotten for the moment.
“Yeah, shove it, Ron!” Dean echoed and the pair erupted in laughter. Ron turned red in the face and started to cross the room. Neville knew he was wrong to hope that Ron would punch Dean in the face.
“Leave them alone, Ron. Come on, let’s go over by Neville.”
Neville really didn’t want anyone to sit near him. He was afraid that, if they asked him, he’d let fly all the vitriolic hurtful things that were in his heart right now. Uncle Algie, or the voice in his head that assumed Uncle Algie’s tone, chided him for his anger; after all, it wasn’t like they’d ever truly dated. Ginny hadn’t ever really been his.
“Alright, Neville?” The concern in Harry’s voice begged for a response but Neville didn’t give in. This was his own fault; he wouldn’t burden his friends with this. Not just because of the embarrassment level but also due to Ron’s overly protective instincts.
With overly careful motions, Neville released his hold on the Herbology book in front of him and looked at the pair beside him. Harry’s hair was messy, even for Harry. The observation distracted him just long enough for his quill to snap in his tightening grip. The broken edge pricked his thumb.
“I’m fine, perfectly and completely fine.” With a nod, Neville gathered up his books, now dotted with ink, and went upstairs.
Footsteps echoed up the stairwell after him. Sighing, Neville went to his bed and pulled the drapes closed. He hoped that if it looked like he was ready for sleep, whoever had followed him would go back down to the Common Room and he’d be left alone. Unfortunately, Neville underestimated Harry’s determination, as illustrated by Harry poking his head through the drapes.
“Are you sure you’re alright, Nev? You looked upset down there.”
Harry was far too observant for his own good, Neville thought uncharitably.
“I’m fine.” The disbelieving look Harry sported told Neville he hadn’t been very successful in his protestation.
“What’s wrong, Nev?” Neville merely shook his head. “I’m good at listening, you know.”
“Why don’t you tell me why you’ve been moping around lately instead?” Neville shot back.
That question was one that Neville regretted for the rest of the school year because the answer led to heartbreak. Harry proceeded to tell Neville about how much he cared for Ginny. Overly dramatic as it might be, Neville could feel pieces of his heart break off and slowly sink inside of him until they lay in a puddle in the pit of his stomach. Against Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom didn’t stand a chance.
~~**~~
Neville felt his heart start to mend when he was seventeen. Over the summer, he’d grown in height and confidence. The increase in height meant that the last of his pudge had disappeared. The increase in confidence meant that he was now willing to deal with his heartbreak by moving on. Harry deserved Ginny and, more importantly, Ginny deserved Harry.
The mending had finished during a moment that was indelibly etched into Neville’s memory. It was a warm day in June, the sunshine bright and cheery. There was a smell of rebirth and life in the air that warmed Neville’s heart as he tended to his plants in Greenhouse Four. School would soon be over but Neville refused to give up the feel of rich dirt around his hands. That feeling soothed him on the roughest days and inspired him to greater achievements on his best days. The buzzing of bees and the rustling of leaves provided him with a musical background to his ministrations as he moved around the greenhouse.
Moving over to a favorite plant, Neville trimmed a bit of dead growth away. Pulling his hand back, Neville realized that he’d pricked his thumb. Snapping off a leaf, Neville placed it on his tongue and sucked. The sweetness burst onto his tongue as raised voices intruded into his world.
Muttering to himself about the delicacy of the plants in front of him, Neville left Greenhouse Four only to encounter what would become the Final Battle. Drawing his wand, he entered the fray. By the end of the battle, Bellatrix Lestrange was dead, his parents were avenged and Voldemort’s reign of terror was over.
“Nev? Are you ok?” Ginny’s voice was soft in his ear as Neville stared at the chaos around him.
“I’m good, Ginny. You?” Neville turned as he asked. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as before for Neville to look at her.
“Voldemort is dead, Nev. Finally, he’s dead. Harry killed him!” Proud of the tiny stutter his heart gave at the exclamation, Neville found himself embraced by the jubilant girl. Completely still, Neville allowed the embrace but didn’t really return it. He wouldn’t, couldn’t allow himself to, else his heart might break again.
“Neville! Ginny!” Harry broke into the narrow world around Neville. Neville backed away from Ginny and waited for Ginny to embrace, kiss, love Harry. When it didn’t happen, Neville became curious. The two were merely speaking and there were no obvious signs of affection. Instead, it just seemed friendly.
“Nev? You alright there?” Harry was giving Neville a funny look. To cover his lapse, Neville moved until he was close enough to clap Harry on the shoulder.
“More importantly, are you alright there, Harry?” Harry grinned tiredly and Neville responded with a grin of his own.
As the three of them spoke, Neville’s heart mended with each friendly but not romantic gesture between Harry and Ginny.
~~**~~
Neville was finally able to identify that first feeling of love when he was twenty-three. That moment, like so many of the others, was firmly implanted in his memory. It was a crisp and beautiful fall day. There was a bit of a chill in the air that brought a flush to his cheeks. The air smelled of hope and hydrangeas while the trees rustled and leaves fell. It was a glorious day as far as Neville was concerned.
He slowly walked down the main thoroughfare of Hogsmeade until he reached the Three Broomsticks. It was a walk down memory lane for him. Memories of racing down this street, frantically trying to get to the last store before he had to head back to Hogwarts, made him smile. The shops might have changed but the memories lasted.
With a sigh, Neville pushed open the door. For just a moment, he was thirteen again and the thrill of the first time he walked through those doors assailed him. Holding the door, Neville’s hand drifted down and pricked itself on a splinter in the door.
The group sitting at their former “usual” table was nearly the same as it had been all those years ago during his Hogwarts days. A spouse here or there was added, but all the same, it was still Gryffindors and one lone Ravenclaw. Hermione and Ron were still arguing after all these years. Harry was still playing the peacemaker between them. Luna smiled vacantly at Neville while Seamus and Dean ribbed each other over some sport team or other. Ginny, for once, was unaccompanied by anyone.
“Oy, Neville! Get your lazy arse over here and help me settle a debate with Hermione!” Ron’s strident voice broke through the memories as Neville crossed the room.
“What can I get you, sweetie? The usual?” Neville nodded to the barmaid as he took his seat.
“What argument are you having now?” Neville’s grin belied his chastising tone.
“Hermione here thinks that book smarts are more important. I keep telling her that real life experience is more important. Which do you think?”
“I think you both are right, of course.” Ron laughed so Neville assumed what he’d said was funny and laughed softly in response.
“Don’t mind my brother, Nev. He’s an idiot and just can’t seem to accept it.” This time, Neville laughed completely as Ginny and Ron started bantering back and forth.
“I’m not idiot, Ginny!”
“Are too.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
“Am not.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.” The whole table erupted in laughter as Ron fell for Ginny’s gambit.
Over the next few hours, the group caught up with each other as they did every couple of months, depending on their individual schedules. Frequent laughter continued throughout until finally, real life intruded and the group started to break up.
“Neville? Can you stay a bit?”
Ginny’s request was unexpected but Neville acquiesced. After all, he’d been doing her bidding for years, now was not the time to change, especially when she wanted to spend time with him one-on-one. Eventually, they were the only ones left at the table.
“Can we…that is…” Neville had never seen Ginny at such a loss for words. “…do you mind if we take a walk?”
Again, Neville acquiesced. Outside, the air was still crisp and the leaves still rustled. The sun warmed his face as they walked along the same street Neville had just traveled a few hours previously. There were no words between them but it was comfortable. For just an instant, Neville was tempted to take Ginny’s hand but he pushed that wish aside.
When they reached the outskirts, Ginny slowed until the pair finally stopped. Neville watched as Ginny turned towards him. She appeared to be debating something. As she thought, Neville reached out and grasped a tiny rose. The thorn pricked his skin. A small dot of blood appeared.
“Why didn’t you ever ask me out again after the Yule Ball way back when?”
This wasn’t the question Neville had been expecting. Rather, he had been expecting something more like ‘would you take care of my plants while I travel’ or ‘do you have any recommendations for what I should put into a bouquet’.
“Err, what?” Neville wasn’t sure where the squeaking voice came from but he hoped it wasn’t his.
“Why didn’t you ever ask me out after the Ball? I waited, you know.” Ginny looked uncomfortable and Neville felt the same. This horribly awkward moment and that first feeling in the library, the pounding heart, the rushing buzz in his ear, all of it came back and Neville realized that he had felt love that first time.
“I, err, didn’t…that is, I thought…” He broke off as he realized he was rambling.
“You thought I didn’t care? You thought I wouldn’t want you?” Ginny’s voice sounded more and more like Molly’s every day, Neville observed to himself as she continued to demand answers he wasn’t sure he wanted to give.
“I’m sorry, Nev. I shouldn’t have brought it up and obviously you don’t want to talk.”
Frantically, Neville reached out a hand to stop Ginny from leaving as she turned on her heel.
“It wasn’t… I’m sorry, Ginny. I was trying to think of a response.”
As she continued to stare at him, Neville’s mind raced for an answer. He wasn’t sure where it came from, but suddenly, he found himself pressing his lips against hers. It was the first time he’d kissed her since that innocent kiss after the Ball.
~~**~~
Neville felt ecstasy for the first time when he was almost twenty-four. That first time was at the same time both his most and least favorite memory. The whole day, vibrant in his mind, was cloudy but there was a sense of love permeating everything, driving the clouds away. The smell of roses and peonies was in the air as Neville and Ginny walked away from his flat. Ginny’s hair was an especially vivid red as Neville held her hand while they strolled. The conversation was light and enjoyable, the words slipping off Neville’s tongue easily for once. There were birds chirping in the trees that dotted the pavement along their way.
It was four months after that impulsive kiss. The fear that accompanied the moment was forgotten in the aftermath of the joy of acceptance. Even now, Neville could taste Ginny on his tongue. Whether that was from the quick kiss a few steps back or that first breath-stealing kiss, he wasn’t sure. The first was realistic but the second was far more romantic.
Tonight, Neville planned on consummating their relationship. He’d insisted on a slow pace. The sentiment might have been old-fashioned but Neville wanted to show his respect for Ginny by waiting until she knew, deep in her heart and without hesitation, that he loved her for her. His nerves tingled in apprehension and anticipation but Neville shoved the feeling down and tried to live in the moment.
Dinner was a romantic affair. The service was impeccable as course after course appeared and disappeared while they continued a light-hearted conversation about their days and activities. Eventually, the crème brûlée was served with a flourish.
“Ginny?” Proud of the fact that his voice didn’t pause or crack, Neville reached out a hand. Ginny’s hand came out automatically to grasp his.
“Yes, Neville?” Her smile warmed his heart and reinforced his conviction that it was finally time for them.
His free hand held out directly in front of him, Neville slowly unclenched his fist. Sitting on his palm was a tiny flower petal. Whispering the spell, it enlarged to be a sprig of gooseberry.
“This is for you.” Neville held the leafy sprig until Ginny took it from him.
“Neville? You’re the plant guy, not me. Explain, please?” At her perplexed expression and question, Neville hurried to explain.
“It’s gooseberry.” The perplexed expression continued. “The Victorians believed that people could communicate with flowers. It means anticipation.”
“Does this mean…?” Ginny broke off the words but waggled her eyebrows suggestively.
As the blush lit his cheeks, Neville nodded.
“Then what the hell are we sitting around here for?” Thankful that he’d already taken care of the bill, Neville found himself tugged along behind Ginny.
The trip back to his flat was a blur as he raced along behind Ginny. There was no opportunity to inhale the lightly perfumed fragrance of blooms in the air or even to savor the feeling of expectation.
Before Neville was even ready, they were in his flat. The door slammed and Ginny pinned him to the door. The sharp stick of the gooseberry dug into his shoulder as she pressed against him. Hot lips pressed against his while an insistent tongue demanded entrance. With a sigh, Neville opened his mouth and a shiver raced down his spine when their tongues touched.
Unrelenting hands tugged at clothes, moving from his shirt to his belt back to his shirt. All too quickly, Neville found himself with his back against the door, his trousers pooled around his ankles and his prick sticking out of his pants. Ginny’s hand was firm and assured as it gripped his cock. It was too much, too soon, too overwhelming and Neville reached down to stop her assault.
“Ginny…” He panted as she tried to recapture his lips. “Ginny, can we get to the bedroom at least?”
Her shining eyes glinted before she started hauling him down the hall. Neville frantically tried to step out of his trousers but he wasn’t quick enough and fell into Ginny. With a grunt, they both collapsed onto the floor.
The breathless laugh underneath him made Neville’s face flame. He couldn’t believe he’d fallen on her. She was probably hurt or, at the very least, not quite so exuberant for the consummation. He would be, after all, if someone tripped into him and knocked him down. It was mortifying is what it was and…
“Neville? You’re not going to just lie there on me and not do anything, are you?”
It was hard for Neville to believe but his face flamed even more as he pushed himself up. His hand landed on the small of her back as he caught his balance midway. With a growl, Neville liberated himself from his trousers before reaching down a hand and helping Ginny up. Pulling too hard, Ginny landed against his chest with a thud. Neville dropped with a cry but, luckily, hit his back on the door.
Another breathless laugh bubbled out of Ginny’s lips before she pulled him, much more carefully this time, down the hallway. The gooseberry was getting a bit worse for the wear as she held it between their hands. The twig bit into his sweaty palm as Neville twisted to keep it from snapping in two as it hit the doorframe. He allowed himself a brief glance around the room and he was happy that he’d remembered to clean.
That was his last thought before Ginny pushed him onto the bed and leapt atop him.
“God, Neville…,” She paused to nip at his collarbone where it peeked out from between the sides of his shirt. “I’ve…,” another pause and Neville moaned as Ginny shifted down his chest, “wanted to do this for so long.”
Her hands roamed across his chest, pushing the edges of his shirt further out, trapping Neville’s arms to his sides within it. A hoarse shout spilled out of him when Ginny latched onto a nipple. With jerky motions, Neville sat up far enough to rip his shirt off the rest of the way.
Ginny, not anticipating the movement, tumbled backwards off the bed. Her teeth were still clamped to his nipple and his torso hung halfway off the bed.
“Nev…” More laughter and Neville found his erection wilting as this important moment became a comedy of errors, “does this mean you keep falling for me?”
Face flaming, Neville’s arms pinwheeled until he pushed himself back onto the bed. Ginny stood as he buried his face in his arms.
“Nev?” When her hand touched his shoulder, he flinched.
“I think this was a bad idea, Gin.” His voice was muffled by his arms as he mumbled.
“Look at me.” When he didn’t, she pulled at his arms and then his chin so that he was forced to look at her. Keeping his eyes clamped shut, Neville still attempted to resist. Gentle lips pressed against his.
“I love you, Nev. You aren’t perfect but neither am I. Come on, Nev, we’ve waited long enough.” Her lips tickled his as she spoke softly.
“I’m so sorry, Gin. This isn’t the way I planned it.” The lips moved away and Neville opened up his eyes.
“Neville, what part of imperfect is so hard to understand? I love you because you’re klutzy, not in spite of it. Kiss me.”
With a lunge, Neville kissed her, pouring all his love into that meeting of lips. With tentative hands, Neville slowly, button by button, bared Ginny’s chest. Reverently, he pushed her shirt down her arms and cupped her breasts. Her head arched back with a moan and Neville leaned forward to nip at the juncture of collarbone and neck. Hands rubbed up and down his back as he reached behind her and undid the clasp of her bra. The cups loosened and then slid off her skin. Quickly tossing the scrap of fabric to the side, he reached out, unsurprised to see his hands shaking, and cupped her unfettered breasts.
Pinching her nipples, Neville drew her breasts closer together. They fit into his hands perfectly as he rolled and tugged, pinched and caressed. Ginny’s little moans and stutters in her breath reassured Neville as he continued his ministrations.
Eventually, his hands drifted down her body to undo her trousers and then slipped them, knickers and all, down her legs. With a kiss to the arch of her foot, Neville started his way back up her long limbs. Pausing to nip or lick as he went, he finally reached the wet center. When he lipped at her, Ginny threaded her hands through his hair and pushed him closer.
A keening cry was his only warning as Ginny went over the edge. She didn’t pause to relish it, though, as she gently pulled Neville by the hair until she lay on top of him. His pants were pushed down his hips before Ginny forced him within her. It was almost too much for Neville and he had to bite his lip to keep from coming from the feeling that surrounded him. It felt like home.
~~**~~
Neville felt complete when he was twenty-five. That day, the flowers scattered around the flat that Ginny and he now shared filled the air with a cacophony of scents. Their varied colors made him smile as he placed the last bouquet and ducked into the loo to wait for Ginny to come home. His palms were slightly sweaty and he wiped them on the toilet paper. When it stuck, he grimaced and pulled it off. Nerves soured the taste on his tongue as he listened for the creaking front door to open.
“What in the world?” Ginny sounded puzzled as she came to the first bouquet. Neville could see it in his mind. She would reach for the Coreopsis Arkansa with a perplexed expression. The card would fall out and she would read it and know that they meant love at first sight. Neville could picture her confused smile as she put them down before continuing into the flat.
Neville imagined her coming to the next bouquet, this time it would be red chrysanthemum. The card would be read and she would know that they meant undying love.
“Oh, Neville.” It was right on cue and Neville smiled at the soft exclamation.
Next, in Neville’s mind he pictured her coming to the American Cowslip. Divine beauty wasn’t enough to describe how beautiful he thought Ginny was, but it fit the best from the language of flowers.
The beauty of the cowslip would be followed by the peach blossom. Its meaning of “I am your captive” proclaimed how truly devoted he was to her. The lesser celandine professed the joys to come. The currant confessed “Thy frown will kill me”.
“Oh, Neville, you wonderful man.” The heartfelt sigh bolstered his courage as he heard her enter the bedroom. There, ivy and ivy geraniums intertwined on the bed. Marriage and bridal favor interlinked as Neville held his breath. The loo door was cracked so that he could watch as she spotted the small jeweler’s box sitting in the heart of the arrangement. Her hands flew to her mouth and she simply stood and stared. The moment dragged on as Neville began to feel apprehension. Perhaps he’d rushed the proposal. Perhaps she didn’t understand. Perhaps it was over the top. Perhaps he’d…
“Neville? Are you around? Please?” He couldn’t tell anything from the whisper that escaped her lips. With trepidation, Neville pulled the door the rest of the way open and crossed the room.
“Ginny? I’ve loved you since I was fourteen. You have always brought sunshine into my world. Like these flowers, I wouldn’t be able to bloom without your light. Will you please,” he dropped to one knee as she turned around, “do me the honor of marrying me?”
With a cry, Ginny lunged into his arms, knocking them both to the floor. As they fell, lips pressed and kissed every available inch of skin on his face.
“Oh God, yes, Neville. Yes, yes, yes yes YES!”
And, there, surrounded by the smell of flowers, the taste of Ginny in his mouth, the sight of her fiery hair a curtain around them, the rough feel of the scratchy carpet under his head and the sound of her joyous acceptance, Neville was complete.
so...whatcha think?
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-04-14 12:09 am (UTC)