HP Fic: Second Best
Title: Second Best
Rating: PG-13 You can find far racier stuff in a romance novel near you.
Pairing: Ginny\Neville
Warnings: DH spoliers
Summary: Finding out that you are second best can hurt. Then again, sometimes second best is better than you ever hoped for.
A/N: The original version of this fic was beta'd by melusinahp. Fortunately for me, she was willing to tell me what worked and what didn't. While this version bears little resemblance to the story I sent her, I still want to thank her for her help.
Of course, all flaws are mine and mine alone.
The sight of her brother Ron’s freckled flat ass thrusting in and out of her husband, her Harry, was bad enough. The sight of Harry burying himself in Hermione was worse. The very worst, however, was the sound of the three of them moaning, and grunting together in perfect, hedonistic harmony. Ginny had come home from work and expected to have the house to herself; Harry and Ron were supposed to be training new Aurors for several hours yet. They were not supposed to be in her bed with their oldest friend.
She didn’t even have to open the door to behold the sordid scene. So confident were they, so uncaring about the potential to be caught, they didn’t even close the door or cast a charm to obscure their actions. Rather than scream, cry, or try to make them stop, Ginny backed out of the doorway and fled, leaving the threesome to continue their sexual exploits uninterrupted.
Ginny staggered out of her home and fled from the sight of Harry, Ron and Hermione moving as one. Eventually, she found herself staring at the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. Shuddering under a jumble of feelings, she turned away. Oblivion in a bottle sounded very attractive just then which automatically made it a bad idea. She needed someone to talk to, someone who would sympathize with her and help her understand what had just happened to the happy life she had dreamt of for years.
Not caring if anyone saw her, Ginny turned on the spot and Apparated to Hogwarts.
~*~*~
She landed with a ‘pop’ outside of the school’s gates. The old prohibition against Apparation onto school grounds was still in place, even in this era of peace. Ginny stood staring at the locked gates, unsure of what she should do next. Part of her wanted to run home and beg for answers from Harry. Part of her wanted to unleash her fury on the gates. Instead she whipped out her wand and sent off her Patronus to Neville. The silvery horse galloped across the school’s lush lawns and into the castle beyond.
With her messenger sent Ginny collapsed against the gates, sagging down to the dirt below. She was so tired, so absolutely exhausted from trying to understand what she had witnessed. It was a small miracle she didn’t splinch herself getting here. She closed her eyes and waited until she heard Neville trotting up the path. Haltingly, she levered herself up from the ground and turned around. The bright spark of Neville’s lit wand bobbed closer and closer until he was near enough that she could see his face clearly.
It was always a shock to see Neville as an adult, dressed in the black robes of a Hogwarts Professor. His hair, like that of his predecessor, was always untidy - too long to be fashionable and too short to pull back in a neat queue. His face was no longer rounded by baby fat and he had finally grown into his limbs. In short, he looked like a man and not a boy. And now he was here to, well, rescue her. Ginny stifled a hysterical giggle.
Without a word, Neville tapped the gates to admit her and a feeling of safety enveloped her as she crossed onto Hogwarts grounds. She waited for Neville to close the gates behind her. As he did, she heard him asked, his voice full of concern, “Ginny, why are you here?”
“Oh, Neville!” Ginny cried and she threw herself into his arms and began to sob.
~*~*~
Neville, ever the gentleman, had escorted her into the castle, down the stairs, and into his rooms without anyone seeing her. Once she was placed in what was obviously his chair - an overstuffed, faded armchair with a well-worn seat - and plied with enough tissues to impersonate a Kleenex box, he lit a fire to dispel the chill that always seeped into the underground rooms. After completing that homey task, he sat opposite her and waited patiently for her to speak.
Ginny sniffled and blew her nose, crumpling the tissue in her hand tightly. She looked around for a dustbin to toss it in, but none was in sight.
“Neville,” Ginny said, “where’s the bin?”
“Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry, Ginny! It’s here,” he said, pointing to a small pot that Ginny had thought held a dying plant, it was so full of dead leaves.
“Thanks,” she said as she tossed the small tissue into the trash from her seat.
Neville leaned forward and took her hands, holding them gently in his. The sleeves of his robe tickled the skin of her hands and Ginny marveled at how rough his hands were. Harry’s hands were as soft and smooth as her own. Shoving the thought aside, Ginny looked up into Neville’s face, his brown eyes the same shade as her own.
“Ginny,” Neville began quietly, “why are you here? What happened? Did something happen to Harry?”
Ginny stifled a sob. “No, no, no, not Harry! Oh, he’s fine, he’s just fabulous! Happy as he could ever be.”
“Then what happened?”
“I, I, I,” Ginny stuttered. She couldn’t bring herself to say the words. That would make it real.
Neville slid off of his perch and crouched on the floor next to her. While he still held her hands in one of his, his other rubbed her arm soothingly. “Ginny, I’m your friend. I’ve always been your friend. You know you can tell me anything and I’ll help you in any way I can.”
“How can you help me with this?” Ginny whispered, more to herself than to Neville.
“I don’t know what it is, but I can try. We’ve done so much together that I know I can find a way to help you.” A small smile flitted across Neville’s face. “Remember when we tried to steal the Sword of Gryffindor from Snape’s office our last year together?”
“Yeah. It was my idea. But, but you’re the one who figured out how to do it.”
Neville gave a short bark of laughter. “I had many trips to the Headmaster’s office that year to plan it all. But, we worked together and even if it didn’t come quite off, we still almost got the sword for Harry-”
“The sword was a fake and so is Harry!” Ginny said savagely, cutting off Neville.
Neville stopped rubbing her arm and pulled away from her slowly. “What does that mean?” he asked quietly.
“Did you know?” Ginny demanded. “Did you know about him and Ron and Hermione?”
Neville lost his balance and fell awkwardly on the floor. “Know what about them?”
“Did you know that my husband likes to shag Hermione while my brother pounds into his ass?”
Neville stayed on the floor, his legs bent under him and his arms splayed, staring at Ginny’s face. He looked so stunned; Ginny knew he was as aware of the nature of their friendship as she had been.
“No, you didn’t know, did you?”
Neville shook his head, his hair swaying back and forth in time. Ginny began to cry again. It was real, she had said the words. Her only satisfaction was that she made a lie of the old saying ‘the wife is always the last to know.’ Neville picked himself up from the floor and gave her exactly what she needed; he wrapped her in his arms and hugged her tightly against him, lifting her out of the chair. Grateful beyond words, she hugged him just as tightly and sobbed once again against his shoulder.
They stood there, in his rooms, clinging to each other until the fire Neville lit stopped crackling and its light grew dim. All the while, Neville stoked her hair and whispered soothing nonsense in her ear. Ginny cried until her eyes hurt and her throat was raw and she felt empty. Sniffling, she pulled away from Neville slightly; it felt like she was peeling away a part of herself, so tightly she had embraced him.
Neville smiled warily as Ginny drifted to the edge of his arms. “Do you feel better now?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah,” Ginny said with another sniff. “Yeah, I do. Thank you, Neville. I really needed a friend.”
Neville’s smile froze. “Yeah, a real friend in need.” Shaking his head, his face relaxed and he continued, “You know I’m always here for you.”
“Neville, what’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing, Ginny. I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Neville said quietly. He slid away from Ginny and returned to his chair, his expression so blank it had to be forced.
“No, Neville, please, what’s wrong?”
Neville swallowed and looked her in the eyes. “Do you remember what happened after we got caught stealing the sword out of Snape’s office?”
Ginny flushed deeply. “You promised you’d never say anything about that!”
“And I haven’t, until now.” Neville looked down at his hands, which were clenched together so tightly that his knuckles were white. He looked back up at her and continued, “Ginny, I would never do anything to hurt you. Never.”
It was her turn to sag into her seat, her blush drained away and her freckles showing in stark relief against her skin.
“Neville, Neville, I, I don’t know what to say.”
Neville again swallowed reflexively and, shaking his clenched hands before releasing then, he rose swiftly from the chair and cornered Ginny. Leaning down over her, he stoked her face tenderly. Cupping her face in his roughened palm, he lifted her head so she faced him dead-on. “Do you remember?” he asked quietly.
“Yes,” Ginny whispered.
“I still love you, Ginny.” His lips brushed against hers, feather-light and so sweet.
“I always have.” Another brush of a kiss, a little longer and heavier than before.
“I always will.” This time, Neville pressed his lips against her and Ginny responded, hesitantly, at first, then with greater abandon.
Behind them, the fire sparked as the coals flared to life once more.
~*~*~
Ginny tripped over the lintel as she stepped into her home. It was after midnight and so much had changed so fast for her that she swayed and staggered like she was drunk. Her robes were wrinkled beyond any smoothing charm and she smelled of damp earth, living soil ready to plant. Neville has tried to persuade her to stay the night with him, but she needed to go back first. She was ready to go home and face her husband, betrayal for betrayal.
Harry was waiting for her on the couch in their living room. Ron and Hermione - clean and dressed and looking like supporting friends instead of partners in debauchery with Harry - sat with him. She caught snatches of their conversation as she staggered inside.
“Oh, Harry, I’m sure she's would be fine. I mean, we checked with Molly’s clock and it says she’s okay.”
“I hope she is. Her boss said she left work on time, but she never came home and that’s not like her…”
Harry’s voice trailed off and Ginny was somewhat amazed that his concern was genuine. He cared about her, he really did. Just not enough for her to come first. Ginny took a deep breath and steeled herself. His worry threatened to make her regret her actions and she would not do that; Harry probably never regretted letting them into their bed. Rather than listen to their conversation continue, Ginny stepped into their line of sight.
“Why, hello, all of you. Were you waiting for me?” Ginny asked with false cheer edged in bitterness.
“Ginny!” Harry exclaimed and leapt up off the couch to embrace her tightly. He took a step back and stared at her. Ginny could well imagine what he saw - disheveled and tangled hair, love bites half-hidden on her neck, wrinkled robes.
“Oh my God, Ginny, did someone attack you?” Harry asked. He hesitated half a beat. “Did someone…” He trailed off again, apparently unable to voice the idea.
“Nope,” Ginny said, still keeping that note of false cheer in her voice. She made sure she was staring into his eyes when she added, “I just didn’t have time to get cleaned up afterward.”
She watched with vicious satisfaction as he blinked and then his concerned expression slipped off of his face to be replaced with shock and pain. She grinned widely.
“Ginny?” he asked.
“Harry?” she mocked in return.
“Ginny!” Ron and Hermione exclaimed. They both tried to speak to her, but their words were a buzzing sound in the background. Ginny thought it was strange that she wasn’t even really angry with them. They were just irritants right now. Then again, they didn’t break any promises to her and she could sort them out later. The one she was truly angry with was Harry. And she needed to finish this with him before she and Neville could go any further.
“Please spare me your hurt feelings, Harry,” Ginny said, no longer amused.
“Why?” Harry asked, sounding for all the world like his heart was breaking.
Ginny walked over to him and looked him in the eyes. Tonelessly, she said, “When I met you, you already had Ron and Hermione. When I started to date you, they were still closer to you than I was. When you broke things off to hunt down the Horcruxes, I tried to be okay with the fact they got to stand by your side, but I didn't. When I married you, married you, Harry, I thought I had made peace with the fact that they were a part of your life that I couldn’t share. And I when I saw you getting fucked by Ron while you fucked Hermione this afternoon, I understood that there was nothing in me that you needed.
“I’m going to wash up. I don’t want you here when I’m done.”
Ginny turned and walked away without a backwards glance.
Rating: PG-13 You can find far racier stuff in a romance novel near you.
Pairing: Ginny\Neville
Warnings: DH spoliers
Summary: Finding out that you are second best can hurt. Then again, sometimes second best is better than you ever hoped for.
A/N: The original version of this fic was beta'd by melusinahp. Fortunately for me, she was willing to tell me what worked and what didn't. While this version bears little resemblance to the story I sent her, I still want to thank her for her help.
Of course, all flaws are mine and mine alone.
The sight of her brother Ron’s freckled flat ass thrusting in and out of her husband, her Harry, was bad enough. The sight of Harry burying himself in Hermione was worse. The very worst, however, was the sound of the three of them moaning, and grunting together in perfect, hedonistic harmony. Ginny had come home from work and expected to have the house to herself; Harry and Ron were supposed to be training new Aurors for several hours yet. They were not supposed to be in her bed with their oldest friend.
She didn’t even have to open the door to behold the sordid scene. So confident were they, so uncaring about the potential to be caught, they didn’t even close the door or cast a charm to obscure their actions. Rather than scream, cry, or try to make them stop, Ginny backed out of the doorway and fled, leaving the threesome to continue their sexual exploits uninterrupted.
Ginny staggered out of her home and fled from the sight of Harry, Ron and Hermione moving as one. Eventually, she found herself staring at the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. Shuddering under a jumble of feelings, she turned away. Oblivion in a bottle sounded very attractive just then which automatically made it a bad idea. She needed someone to talk to, someone who would sympathize with her and help her understand what had just happened to the happy life she had dreamt of for years.
Not caring if anyone saw her, Ginny turned on the spot and Apparated to Hogwarts.
~*~*~
She landed with a ‘pop’ outside of the school’s gates. The old prohibition against Apparation onto school grounds was still in place, even in this era of peace. Ginny stood staring at the locked gates, unsure of what she should do next. Part of her wanted to run home and beg for answers from Harry. Part of her wanted to unleash her fury on the gates. Instead she whipped out her wand and sent off her Patronus to Neville. The silvery horse galloped across the school’s lush lawns and into the castle beyond.
With her messenger sent Ginny collapsed against the gates, sagging down to the dirt below. She was so tired, so absolutely exhausted from trying to understand what she had witnessed. It was a small miracle she didn’t splinch herself getting here. She closed her eyes and waited until she heard Neville trotting up the path. Haltingly, she levered herself up from the ground and turned around. The bright spark of Neville’s lit wand bobbed closer and closer until he was near enough that she could see his face clearly.
It was always a shock to see Neville as an adult, dressed in the black robes of a Hogwarts Professor. His hair, like that of his predecessor, was always untidy - too long to be fashionable and too short to pull back in a neat queue. His face was no longer rounded by baby fat and he had finally grown into his limbs. In short, he looked like a man and not a boy. And now he was here to, well, rescue her. Ginny stifled a hysterical giggle.
Without a word, Neville tapped the gates to admit her and a feeling of safety enveloped her as she crossed onto Hogwarts grounds. She waited for Neville to close the gates behind her. As he did, she heard him asked, his voice full of concern, “Ginny, why are you here?”
“Oh, Neville!” Ginny cried and she threw herself into his arms and began to sob.
~*~*~
Neville, ever the gentleman, had escorted her into the castle, down the stairs, and into his rooms without anyone seeing her. Once she was placed in what was obviously his chair - an overstuffed, faded armchair with a well-worn seat - and plied with enough tissues to impersonate a Kleenex box, he lit a fire to dispel the chill that always seeped into the underground rooms. After completing that homey task, he sat opposite her and waited patiently for her to speak.
Ginny sniffled and blew her nose, crumpling the tissue in her hand tightly. She looked around for a dustbin to toss it in, but none was in sight.
“Neville,” Ginny said, “where’s the bin?”
“Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry, Ginny! It’s here,” he said, pointing to a small pot that Ginny had thought held a dying plant, it was so full of dead leaves.
“Thanks,” she said as she tossed the small tissue into the trash from her seat.
Neville leaned forward and took her hands, holding them gently in his. The sleeves of his robe tickled the skin of her hands and Ginny marveled at how rough his hands were. Harry’s hands were as soft and smooth as her own. Shoving the thought aside, Ginny looked up into Neville’s face, his brown eyes the same shade as her own.
“Ginny,” Neville began quietly, “why are you here? What happened? Did something happen to Harry?”
Ginny stifled a sob. “No, no, no, not Harry! Oh, he’s fine, he’s just fabulous! Happy as he could ever be.”
“Then what happened?”
“I, I, I,” Ginny stuttered. She couldn’t bring herself to say the words. That would make it real.
Neville slid off of his perch and crouched on the floor next to her. While he still held her hands in one of his, his other rubbed her arm soothingly. “Ginny, I’m your friend. I’ve always been your friend. You know you can tell me anything and I’ll help you in any way I can.”
“How can you help me with this?” Ginny whispered, more to herself than to Neville.
“I don’t know what it is, but I can try. We’ve done so much together that I know I can find a way to help you.” A small smile flitted across Neville’s face. “Remember when we tried to steal the Sword of Gryffindor from Snape’s office our last year together?”
“Yeah. It was my idea. But, but you’re the one who figured out how to do it.”
Neville gave a short bark of laughter. “I had many trips to the Headmaster’s office that year to plan it all. But, we worked together and even if it didn’t come quite off, we still almost got the sword for Harry-”
“The sword was a fake and so is Harry!” Ginny said savagely, cutting off Neville.
Neville stopped rubbing her arm and pulled away from her slowly. “What does that mean?” he asked quietly.
“Did you know?” Ginny demanded. “Did you know about him and Ron and Hermione?”
Neville lost his balance and fell awkwardly on the floor. “Know what about them?”
“Did you know that my husband likes to shag Hermione while my brother pounds into his ass?”
Neville stayed on the floor, his legs bent under him and his arms splayed, staring at Ginny’s face. He looked so stunned; Ginny knew he was as aware of the nature of their friendship as she had been.
“No, you didn’t know, did you?”
Neville shook his head, his hair swaying back and forth in time. Ginny began to cry again. It was real, she had said the words. Her only satisfaction was that she made a lie of the old saying ‘the wife is always the last to know.’ Neville picked himself up from the floor and gave her exactly what she needed; he wrapped her in his arms and hugged her tightly against him, lifting her out of the chair. Grateful beyond words, she hugged him just as tightly and sobbed once again against his shoulder.
They stood there, in his rooms, clinging to each other until the fire Neville lit stopped crackling and its light grew dim. All the while, Neville stoked her hair and whispered soothing nonsense in her ear. Ginny cried until her eyes hurt and her throat was raw and she felt empty. Sniffling, she pulled away from Neville slightly; it felt like she was peeling away a part of herself, so tightly she had embraced him.
Neville smiled warily as Ginny drifted to the edge of his arms. “Do you feel better now?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah,” Ginny said with another sniff. “Yeah, I do. Thank you, Neville. I really needed a friend.”
Neville’s smile froze. “Yeah, a real friend in need.” Shaking his head, his face relaxed and he continued, “You know I’m always here for you.”
“Neville, what’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing, Ginny. I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Neville said quietly. He slid away from Ginny and returned to his chair, his expression so blank it had to be forced.
“No, Neville, please, what’s wrong?”
Neville swallowed and looked her in the eyes. “Do you remember what happened after we got caught stealing the sword out of Snape’s office?”
Ginny flushed deeply. “You promised you’d never say anything about that!”
“And I haven’t, until now.” Neville looked down at his hands, which were clenched together so tightly that his knuckles were white. He looked back up at her and continued, “Ginny, I would never do anything to hurt you. Never.”
It was her turn to sag into her seat, her blush drained away and her freckles showing in stark relief against her skin.
“Neville, Neville, I, I don’t know what to say.”
Neville again swallowed reflexively and, shaking his clenched hands before releasing then, he rose swiftly from the chair and cornered Ginny. Leaning down over her, he stoked her face tenderly. Cupping her face in his roughened palm, he lifted her head so she faced him dead-on. “Do you remember?” he asked quietly.
“Yes,” Ginny whispered.
“I still love you, Ginny.” His lips brushed against hers, feather-light and so sweet.
“I always have.” Another brush of a kiss, a little longer and heavier than before.
“I always will.” This time, Neville pressed his lips against her and Ginny responded, hesitantly, at first, then with greater abandon.
Behind them, the fire sparked as the coals flared to life once more.
~*~*~
Ginny tripped over the lintel as she stepped into her home. It was after midnight and so much had changed so fast for her that she swayed and staggered like she was drunk. Her robes were wrinkled beyond any smoothing charm and she smelled of damp earth, living soil ready to plant. Neville has tried to persuade her to stay the night with him, but she needed to go back first. She was ready to go home and face her husband, betrayal for betrayal.
Harry was waiting for her on the couch in their living room. Ron and Hermione - clean and dressed and looking like supporting friends instead of partners in debauchery with Harry - sat with him. She caught snatches of their conversation as she staggered inside.
“Oh, Harry, I’m sure she's would be fine. I mean, we checked with Molly’s clock and it says she’s okay.”
“I hope she is. Her boss said she left work on time, but she never came home and that’s not like her…”
Harry’s voice trailed off and Ginny was somewhat amazed that his concern was genuine. He cared about her, he really did. Just not enough for her to come first. Ginny took a deep breath and steeled herself. His worry threatened to make her regret her actions and she would not do that; Harry probably never regretted letting them into their bed. Rather than listen to their conversation continue, Ginny stepped into their line of sight.
“Why, hello, all of you. Were you waiting for me?” Ginny asked with false cheer edged in bitterness.
“Ginny!” Harry exclaimed and leapt up off the couch to embrace her tightly. He took a step back and stared at her. Ginny could well imagine what he saw - disheveled and tangled hair, love bites half-hidden on her neck, wrinkled robes.
“Oh my God, Ginny, did someone attack you?” Harry asked. He hesitated half a beat. “Did someone…” He trailed off again, apparently unable to voice the idea.
“Nope,” Ginny said, still keeping that note of false cheer in her voice. She made sure she was staring into his eyes when she added, “I just didn’t have time to get cleaned up afterward.”
She watched with vicious satisfaction as he blinked and then his concerned expression slipped off of his face to be replaced with shock and pain. She grinned widely.
“Ginny?” he asked.
“Harry?” she mocked in return.
“Ginny!” Ron and Hermione exclaimed. They both tried to speak to her, but their words were a buzzing sound in the background. Ginny thought it was strange that she wasn’t even really angry with them. They were just irritants right now. Then again, they didn’t break any promises to her and she could sort them out later. The one she was truly angry with was Harry. And she needed to finish this with him before she and Neville could go any further.
“Please spare me your hurt feelings, Harry,” Ginny said, no longer amused.
“Why?” Harry asked, sounding for all the world like his heart was breaking.
Ginny walked over to him and looked him in the eyes. Tonelessly, she said, “When I met you, you already had Ron and Hermione. When I started to date you, they were still closer to you than I was. When you broke things off to hunt down the Horcruxes, I tried to be okay with the fact they got to stand by your side, but I didn't. When I married you, married you, Harry, I thought I had made peace with the fact that they were a part of your life that I couldn’t share. And I when I saw you getting fucked by Ron while you fucked Hermione this afternoon, I understood that there was nothing in me that you needed.
“I’m going to wash up. I don’t want you here when I’m done.”
Ginny turned and walked away without a backwards glance.