ain't love grand? | harry potter | draco/neville
title: ain't love grand?
pairing: draco/neville
rating: pg-13
summary: love and scandal are the best sweeteners of tea.
words: 300
beta: girl-on-sunshine
disclaimer: no profit is being made; no copyright infringement is intended. harry potter belongs to jkrowling, the summary is by henry fielding.
author's notes: written fornatt as part of therarepair_shorts wishlist event. i used the prompt scandalous romance & i really wish this was longer!
“That poor boy is heading full speed in the wrong direction,” they whisper into teacups filled with camomile and gunpowder tea; “thinks he's in love with a Death Eater,” while dabbing their mouths with pristine white serviettes.
The thing is, it's all true.
Neville likes how Draco is moving over and inside and around him; likes the way he makes him shiver with want and lust and almost while they're waiting for the night to tear apart and show the sun again.
I love you, he never says aloud, hair that's not his own tickling his eyelids, and Draco answers him in bites and scratches.
It's all kind of perfect like this.
They don't go outside, not together. Draco avoids being stared at and Neville avoids angering Draco. They don't share any moonlit walks or French wine and waltzes, but it's still love, because they have low moans in the darkness and quiet curses kissed into their skin.
(Right?)
“You're boring me, Longbottom,” Draco says one night, too pale against the dark blankets twisted around his legs. And Neville tries, tries so hard to please become the better kiss, the hotter touch Draco is yearning for.
But he knows he'll never be enough, even with all traces of youth scrubbed off his body.
(He's Neville after all.)
It's two months later, with winter melting into spring, and Neville Longbottom and the Death Eater child are still deeply in love.
“That's old news, darling, haven't you heard about the Malfoy brat and the young Delacour yet? She's a Veela.” His buttermilk skin is all hers now; his razor sharp tongue and filthy noises aren't meant for Neville any more.
And the people try different brands of tea and families to talk about, they move on, .
(Neville doesn't.)
pairing: draco/neville
rating: pg-13
summary: love and scandal are the best sweeteners of tea.
words: 300
beta: girl-on-sunshine
disclaimer: no profit is being made; no copyright infringement is intended. harry potter belongs to jkrowling, the summary is by henry fielding.
author's notes: written fornatt as part of therarepair_shorts wishlist event. i used the prompt scandalous romance & i really wish this was longer!
“That poor boy is heading full speed in the wrong direction,” they whisper into teacups filled with camomile and gunpowder tea; “thinks he's in love with a Death Eater,” while dabbing their mouths with pristine white serviettes.
The thing is, it's all true.
Neville likes how Draco is moving over and inside and around him; likes the way he makes him shiver with want and lust and almost while they're waiting for the night to tear apart and show the sun again.
I love you, he never says aloud, hair that's not his own tickling his eyelids, and Draco answers him in bites and scratches.
It's all kind of perfect like this.
They don't go outside, not together. Draco avoids being stared at and Neville avoids angering Draco. They don't share any moonlit walks or French wine and waltzes, but it's still love, because they have low moans in the darkness and quiet curses kissed into their skin.
(Right?)
“You're boring me, Longbottom,” Draco says one night, too pale against the dark blankets twisted around his legs. And Neville tries, tries so hard to please become the better kiss, the hotter touch Draco is yearning for.
But he knows he'll never be enough, even with all traces of youth scrubbed off his body.
(He's Neville after all.)
It's two months later, with winter melting into spring, and Neville Longbottom and the Death Eater child are still deeply in love.
“That's old news, darling, haven't you heard about the Malfoy brat and the young Delacour yet? She's a Veela.” His buttermilk skin is all hers now; his razor sharp tongue and filthy noises aren't meant for Neville any more.
And the people try different brands of tea and families to talk about, they move on, .
(Neville doesn't.)