Muggle Nights - Harry Potter - Harry/Neville
Title: Muggle Nights
Pairing: Harry/Neville
Word Count: 1400
Rating: PG
A/N: Written for the "roleplay" square of my kink_bingo card. This is ridiculously fluffy.
Summary: Every Friday night, Harry and Neville put their wands away and make do without magic.
Harry's key rattles in the lock as he comes home late on Friday evening. His shoulders are aching and his muscles are sore; his knuckles are still grazed with fire from the rogue dragon-smuggler he and the other Aurors encountered earlier today. What he wants, all in all, is a relaxing evening in and a long, hot bath.
The fire is on in the living room and the house is filled with the smell of cooking. "Neville?" Harry calls out cautiously. He knows what day it is, after all.
"Through here!" Neville calls back from the kitchen.
Harry tucks his wand away and follows the sound of his voice. The kitchen is an utter mess, with spilt ingredients and scattered flour on every surface. On top of the hob, a large pot of what appears to be a brown goo is bubbling merrily away, while Neville wields a wooden spoon like it might protect him.
"This is hopeless," Neville complains. "It's worse than potions."
Harry moves closer to the pot and peers inside. There are blobs in the bubbling mess, but they're completely unidentifiable. "It looks good," he says anyway, placing his hand on the small of Neville's back. He frowns at the liquid. "What is it?"
"Stew," Neville says mournfully. "I think."
With a prod of his wand and a good bit of luck, they might be able to rescue it - if it was any other day than Friday. Today is their no-magic evening, where they live like muggles and get back to simple roots. "We could add some salt," Harry says uncertainly. "That might help."
"Really?"
Neville sounds so hopelessly hopeful that Harry has no choice but to smile and nod. Whatever this comes out tasting like, he'll grin and bear it. Anything to cheer Neville up.
*
"It's nice," Harry assures him when they eat by candle light. "It's... tender."
"Harry," Neville says sternly - that must be the voice that he uses as a professor, the voice that keeps his students in line. It sends a thrill down Harry's spine. "I do have taste-buds of my own, you know."
Harry nods, waits for a moment, and then suggests, "Want to just get a pizza in?"
Neville frowns in confusion, and Harry remembers that there is still so much he doesn't know about the muggle world, regardless of all that Harry has taught him.
"Come on," Harry says. "I'll show you."
*
Neville understands how the phone works, and a series of non-magical Friday evenings have left him used to the amount of time it takes for anything to happen without the flick of a wand. While they're waiting for the delivery they amble into the living room together, settling down on the couch. Harry kicks his shoes off and lies down, resting his head on the muscle of Neville's thigh.
It only takes a moment for Neville to slip his fingers into Harry's hair, stroking through the messy strands. "I have no idea how our teachers put up with us," he admits when Harry asks him how his day has been. "Students can be a little bit stupid, you know."
He sounds sheepish as he says it. Harry gives a sleepy smile. "Sounds familiar," he says. "You're good at your job - they'll learn."
"They'd better learn before they kill all my flutterby bushes. They're temperamental plants. The first years keep scaring them."
Harry smiles as he listens to him and settles down further, his body growing more and more relaxed by the second. With Neville's hand in his hair and the sweet lull of his voice, it's easy to forget all of the baggage and history they carry between them. They can just be an ordinary couple with ordinary lives.
He wakes up with a tense start when there is a heavy knock at the door. His body jerks in surprise and his hand stretches automatically for his wand - old habits die hard. For him, he thinks the war might never be over.
Neville slips out from under his head. Harry falls back against the sofa. "It's only the pizza," Neville reminds him. "Don't worry."
"Do you have the right money?" Harry asks. He doesn't want to repeat the time that they went shopping together and Neville had tried to feed knuts and sickles to the self-service machine.
"Think so," Neville mutters, searching through his pockets.
Harry stays where he is, lying on his back and clutching his wand while he listens to Neville answer the door. The transaction is confused and stunted, and Neville seems to utterly baffle the poor delivery man. Harry smiles, and some of the tension in his hand begins to relax.
The scent of food fills the room when Neville comes back through. Harry's stomach growls in response.
"What do you think, then?" Neville asks, setting the box down on the coffee table. "Want to watch another of your movings while we eat?"
"Movies, Neville. They're called movies." Something in the smug smile on Neville's face tells him that he already knows that. He nudges the man with his foot in retaliation as he sits up. "You're a terror, you know."
Neville smiles as if Harry's given him a compliment, and a little bit more of the day fades away.
*
Stomachs full, minds empty, they crowd together on the couch and watch explosions play out before them on the screen. Neville rests his head on Harry's shoulder and steals the last slice of pizza; Harry just takes the crust when Neville is done with it.
"You'd make a good bank robber," Neville says as they watch the crew on screen get away with bags of cash. "You've got the, y'know, charisma for it."
Harry gives a dry half-laugh. "Are you suggesting we go and rob a bank?"
"Why not?" Neville grins. "I can be the side-kick."
Harry shakes his head. "Nah, I'll be the side-kick. You're better at leading people than me."
Neville gives a disbelieving snort - but it's true. People had followed him because he was the Boy Who Lived; at Hogwarts they had followed Neville because they wanted to, because he had been the best leader. Harry presses his mouth against the top of Neville's head and takes in the scent of his hair: shampoo and normality.
"What are we stealing?" he asks, struggling against a yawn. "If we're bank robbers, what are we stealing?"
"Ummm... Muggle stuff?" Neville suggests. "Money and computters."
"Computers," Harry says, unable to stop the smile spreading even wiser on his face. Neville elbows him lightly in the ribs for his trouble. "There will be guards..." he reminds him, while he very deliberately doesn't think about the dragons in Gringotts. The less said about that experience the better.
"That's alright," Neville says. "I'm a black belt."
Harry laughs in surprise. "Are you now?"
"Yeah. I trained in the mountains for years," Neville says. "With ninjas and monks and stuff. You must've missed the montage."
Harry hides his grin as best he can. He loves their muggle nights. It's the one evening a week where he gets to be ridiculous - where he gets to grin and pretend that none of the past matters.
"It'll be an easy heist, then," he surmises. "A walk in the park."
"We'll be rich," Neville agrees, as if they aren't already. "Y'know the best bit, though?"
Harry shakes his head.
"The hero always gets the girl." Neville places a chaste kiss on Harry's lips, stealing a sign of affection. "That's my favourite part."
Harry laughs in outrage, but he's distracted by the way Neville moves, pushing Harry down on his back on the couch and crawling over him. "I'm supposed to be the sidekick," he reminds him, "and I'm not a girl."
"Details," Neville mumbles apologetically against his lips. "Just details."
They're going to miss the end of the movie. Explosions and gun-fire sing in the background as Neville kisses him again, and again, and again, stealing away every rational, irrelevant thought that Harry has ever had.
*
In the morning, Harry makes breakfast and magic makes it edible. They're back to themselves, simple wizards - Friday adventures and tales of bank-robbery are put away for one more week.
There's always next week, however.
Harry is already contemplating what film they might want to watch. Pretending to be superheroes for the night has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?
Pairing: Harry/Neville
Word Count: 1400
Rating: PG
A/N: Written for the "roleplay" square of my kink_bingo card. This is ridiculously fluffy.
Summary: Every Friday night, Harry and Neville put their wands away and make do without magic.
Harry's key rattles in the lock as he comes home late on Friday evening. His shoulders are aching and his muscles are sore; his knuckles are still grazed with fire from the rogue dragon-smuggler he and the other Aurors encountered earlier today. What he wants, all in all, is a relaxing evening in and a long, hot bath.
The fire is on in the living room and the house is filled with the smell of cooking. "Neville?" Harry calls out cautiously. He knows what day it is, after all.
"Through here!" Neville calls back from the kitchen.
Harry tucks his wand away and follows the sound of his voice. The kitchen is an utter mess, with spilt ingredients and scattered flour on every surface. On top of the hob, a large pot of what appears to be a brown goo is bubbling merrily away, while Neville wields a wooden spoon like it might protect him.
"This is hopeless," Neville complains. "It's worse than potions."
Harry moves closer to the pot and peers inside. There are blobs in the bubbling mess, but they're completely unidentifiable. "It looks good," he says anyway, placing his hand on the small of Neville's back. He frowns at the liquid. "What is it?"
"Stew," Neville says mournfully. "I think."
With a prod of his wand and a good bit of luck, they might be able to rescue it - if it was any other day than Friday. Today is their no-magic evening, where they live like muggles and get back to simple roots. "We could add some salt," Harry says uncertainly. "That might help."
"Really?"
Neville sounds so hopelessly hopeful that Harry has no choice but to smile and nod. Whatever this comes out tasting like, he'll grin and bear it. Anything to cheer Neville up.
*
"It's nice," Harry assures him when they eat by candle light. "It's... tender."
"Harry," Neville says sternly - that must be the voice that he uses as a professor, the voice that keeps his students in line. It sends a thrill down Harry's spine. "I do have taste-buds of my own, you know."
Harry nods, waits for a moment, and then suggests, "Want to just get a pizza in?"
Neville frowns in confusion, and Harry remembers that there is still so much he doesn't know about the muggle world, regardless of all that Harry has taught him.
"Come on," Harry says. "I'll show you."
*
Neville understands how the phone works, and a series of non-magical Friday evenings have left him used to the amount of time it takes for anything to happen without the flick of a wand. While they're waiting for the delivery they amble into the living room together, settling down on the couch. Harry kicks his shoes off and lies down, resting his head on the muscle of Neville's thigh.
It only takes a moment for Neville to slip his fingers into Harry's hair, stroking through the messy strands. "I have no idea how our teachers put up with us," he admits when Harry asks him how his day has been. "Students can be a little bit stupid, you know."
He sounds sheepish as he says it. Harry gives a sleepy smile. "Sounds familiar," he says. "You're good at your job - they'll learn."
"They'd better learn before they kill all my flutterby bushes. They're temperamental plants. The first years keep scaring them."
Harry smiles as he listens to him and settles down further, his body growing more and more relaxed by the second. With Neville's hand in his hair and the sweet lull of his voice, it's easy to forget all of the baggage and history they carry between them. They can just be an ordinary couple with ordinary lives.
He wakes up with a tense start when there is a heavy knock at the door. His body jerks in surprise and his hand stretches automatically for his wand - old habits die hard. For him, he thinks the war might never be over.
Neville slips out from under his head. Harry falls back against the sofa. "It's only the pizza," Neville reminds him. "Don't worry."
"Do you have the right money?" Harry asks. He doesn't want to repeat the time that they went shopping together and Neville had tried to feed knuts and sickles to the self-service machine.
"Think so," Neville mutters, searching through his pockets.
Harry stays where he is, lying on his back and clutching his wand while he listens to Neville answer the door. The transaction is confused and stunted, and Neville seems to utterly baffle the poor delivery man. Harry smiles, and some of the tension in his hand begins to relax.
The scent of food fills the room when Neville comes back through. Harry's stomach growls in response.
"What do you think, then?" Neville asks, setting the box down on the coffee table. "Want to watch another of your movings while we eat?"
"Movies, Neville. They're called movies." Something in the smug smile on Neville's face tells him that he already knows that. He nudges the man with his foot in retaliation as he sits up. "You're a terror, you know."
Neville smiles as if Harry's given him a compliment, and a little bit more of the day fades away.
*
Stomachs full, minds empty, they crowd together on the couch and watch explosions play out before them on the screen. Neville rests his head on Harry's shoulder and steals the last slice of pizza; Harry just takes the crust when Neville is done with it.
"You'd make a good bank robber," Neville says as they watch the crew on screen get away with bags of cash. "You've got the, y'know, charisma for it."
Harry gives a dry half-laugh. "Are you suggesting we go and rob a bank?"
"Why not?" Neville grins. "I can be the side-kick."
Harry shakes his head. "Nah, I'll be the side-kick. You're better at leading people than me."
Neville gives a disbelieving snort - but it's true. People had followed him because he was the Boy Who Lived; at Hogwarts they had followed Neville because they wanted to, because he had been the best leader. Harry presses his mouth against the top of Neville's head and takes in the scent of his hair: shampoo and normality.
"What are we stealing?" he asks, struggling against a yawn. "If we're bank robbers, what are we stealing?"
"Ummm... Muggle stuff?" Neville suggests. "Money and computters."
"Computers," Harry says, unable to stop the smile spreading even wiser on his face. Neville elbows him lightly in the ribs for his trouble. "There will be guards..." he reminds him, while he very deliberately doesn't think about the dragons in Gringotts. The less said about that experience the better.
"That's alright," Neville says. "I'm a black belt."
Harry laughs in surprise. "Are you now?"
"Yeah. I trained in the mountains for years," Neville says. "With ninjas and monks and stuff. You must've missed the montage."
Harry hides his grin as best he can. He loves their muggle nights. It's the one evening a week where he gets to be ridiculous - where he gets to grin and pretend that none of the past matters.
"It'll be an easy heist, then," he surmises. "A walk in the park."
"We'll be rich," Neville agrees, as if they aren't already. "Y'know the best bit, though?"
Harry shakes his head.
"The hero always gets the girl." Neville places a chaste kiss on Harry's lips, stealing a sign of affection. "That's my favourite part."
Harry laughs in outrage, but he's distracted by the way Neville moves, pushing Harry down on his back on the couch and crawling over him. "I'm supposed to be the sidekick," he reminds him, "and I'm not a girl."
"Details," Neville mumbles apologetically against his lips. "Just details."
They're going to miss the end of the movie. Explosions and gun-fire sing in the background as Neville kisses him again, and again, and again, stealing away every rational, irrelevant thought that Harry has ever had.
*
In the morning, Harry makes breakfast and magic makes it edible. They're back to themselves, simple wizards - Friday adventures and tales of bank-robbery are put away for one more week.
There's always next week, however.
Harry is already contemplating what film they might want to watch. Pretending to be superheroes for the night has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?