response to Inell's request
Title: Finding Our Happy Ending by Crystalline Temptress (frozentemptress)
Characters/Pairings: Neville/Hermione, mentions of Harry, Ron, and Neville’s grandmother
Summary: Neville finally musters up the courage to ask his Healer and longtime friend out for dinner.
Rating: MA (R to mild NC-17) for mildly explicit sex
Genre: Romance
Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter or any of the characters therein, and I’m not earning anything from this venture.
Author’s Notes: This is my response to inell’s request for the Fandom Drabble Exchange Challenge. I tried to put in a bit of an S&M kink for Neville, although nothing too overt . . . Here’s to you, inell! :D
Now, to pips_n_chiaw’s and pencil_gal’s requests, and the request for the dmhgficexchange . . .
Finding Our Happy Ending
Hermione, would you have dinner with me? Too presumptuous.
I’d be delighted if you’d accompany me to dinner. Too suave.
Maybe we could hang out sometime? Too much like a fresh schoolboy.
Hermione, thank you so much for the exceptional care you’ve given me; I feel no aftereffects of the curse now . . . In order to show my appreciation, may I treat you to dinner, snog you madly, marry you, get you into my bed, have children with you, and grow old with you?
Neville was panicking. He only had a few minutes left before his last check-up and perhaps consequent discharge from St. Mungo’s, and he had yet to think of a way to ask his Healer out. He bit his lip, wondering if it was unethical. But then, they’d been friends since their days in Hogwarts, and they’d even fought side-by-side during the War.
He was actually truly blessed to have been under her care, for she was one of the most renowned Mediwitches in their time, and she was well-sought after for her expertise in the field.
Just as he was formulating another way to ask her out, Hermione entered his private room. Before Neville could stop himself, he thought of how lovely she looked in her lime-green Healer’s robes . . . and how lovely she’d look in something else . . . or something that covered less . . .
He slapped himself mentally. He didn’t want to have such thoughts about the friend who’d helped him through so many fixes, from their time in school to the present.
“Good morning, Neville,” Hermione said as she bustled in, giving him a smile. “How are you feeling today?”
“Better,” he replied earnestly. “Thank you so much for your help.”
“Think nothing of it,” she answered warmly. She took the clipboard from its holder at the foot of his bed and checked his records. “As you know, I’m just going to give you another check-up. But judging by your record, I think that you’ll be going home today; your condition’s improved greatly over the past two weeks.” She strode over to his side and began her methodical inspection, prodding him gently with her wand, and using complex spells to see any internal damage.
When she was satisfied with his condition, she stepped away, scribbling something on his clipboard. “I’m happy to say that you will indeed be going home today,” Hermione said with a smile. “I’ve just fixed your release papers; when you’re ready to go, just present these to the desk at the far end of the right corridor when you exit.” She handed him a slip of parchment.
“Thank you again; I can’t express how grateful I am-” he began, but she stopped him.
“I’m happy to have been your Healer,” Hermione said, reaching out and giving his arm a light squeeze. “Well, I’ve got to dash . . . I’ll see you again soon! Although I hope that it’s not here,” she said with a grin.
Just as she was stepping out the door, Neville called, “Wait!”
She turned around and looked at him expectantly.
“Could we hang out sometime-I mean, we could go to dinner-I mean, you know, you’ve done so much for me, and I really want to repay you-but of course, that’s not why we’re going out-I mean, we’re not going out, it’s just dinner-”
Neville felt himself grow hot. He trailed off, realizing he’d put in his foot in his mouth. “Er . . .”
Hermione laughed, not unkindly. She gave him another warm smile. “I’d love to.”
“This Friday?” he blurted out.
She nodded. “You know the end of my shift.”
“I’ll meet you then? In the lobby?”
She nodded again. “Alright. Got to dash. See you, Neville!” And with that, she was gone.
Friday’s dinner went exceptionally well. Neville took Hermione to a cozy Spanish restaurant in one of the more secluded alleys of Hogsmeade, and they’d talked about a good deal of things over their paella and their red wine. She looked fetching that evening in a burgundy dress, and Neville found his eyes drawn to the loose tendrils of hair that had escaped her bun and now brushed softly against her cheek as she moved.
“Living with Harry and Ron’s great, although I have to clean up after them sometimes,” she was saying with wry amusement. “But it’s wonderful to be living with your two best friends.”
“They’re very lucky,” Neville said almost wistfully.
Hermione let out a peal of laughter. “Perhaps. But I think not,” she opined as she took a delicate sip of her wine. “I nag them and order them around all the time.”
Neville felt a twinge of longing. “I wouldn’t mind if you ordered me around,” he murmured shyly before he could stop himself.
Hermione’s eyebrows rose. Neville felt heat suffuse his cheeks. “I didn’t mean it in that way . . .”
She was looking at him strangely. “I’m surprised that you think that I think you meant it that way.”
He blushed even more. “Sorry-”
To his astonishment, she chuckled. “You don’t have to be.” Deftly steering the topic away, she said, “Where’re we going next?”
Clearing his throat awkwardly, he said, “Well, maybe we could get some desert somewhere . . . or we could just walk around a bit, if you’d like . . .”
She said that that sounded nice, so he paid for their dinner (he’d denied her over and again when she insisted that she’d pay for half) and the two of them decided to have a stroll around the park and the gardens in the center of Hogsmeade.
“The sky’s lovely tonight,” he said, breaking the silence as they sat beside one another upon one of the
stone benches strategically located around the park.
“The stars are particularly beautiful,” she agreed. Silence descended once again, and this time, she spoke first.
“Thank you for dinner.” Her voice was soft and warm.
“You’re welcome,” he said.
“Why’d you take me out?”
Neville coughed. He knew that he couldn’t say that it was just to repay her kindness, and he didn’t want to lie by telling her that it was a friendly gesture. “Um . . .”
The seconds ticked on uncomfortably. She remained silent, and finally, Neville felt that he had to speak.
“Well, I just . . . I wanted to . . . Er . . .” He coughed. “I . . .
IreallylikeyouI’velikedyoueversinceandI-” He was babbling again.
He was stunned when she put her fingers lightly over his mouth. “Kiss me?” she asked softly.
Neville’s head swam, and he thought that his heart would burst in his chest. He reached out to her with shaky hands, and after a moment’s uncertainty, he cupped the back of her neck, leaned in, and pressed his lips to hers.
“Hermione, I-” Neville moaned as she cut him off with another heated kiss, pulling him by his collar and pressing his body against hers as she backed onto the door of his apartment. His mind was still swimming, as all blood seemed to have left his brain, heading in a southward direction with their activities. He couldn’t help but let out a choked groan as his growing hardness rubbed against the cradle of her thighs.
With much effort on his part, he pulled away reluctantly, running an unsteady hand through his mussed blond hair, although he made no move to distance himself from her. “I know that I invited you back to my place . . . and I just have to make sure . . . are you certain that you want to be here?” he asked tentatively, catching his bottom lip between his teeth with anxiety.
Her eyes darkened as she noticed the motion, but she drew in a deep breath and said, “Of course I want to be here.” She lowered her head. “That’s why I asked to be your Healer. I wanted to spend time with you. Didn’t want us to drift apart after Hogwarts and the War,” she admitted softly.
Neville felt bittersweet warmth bloom through his chest, mingling with his surprise, making him feel both languid and giddy. “You . . . asked to be my Healer?” he repeated in shock.
She nodded feebly. Neville couldn’t help himself; he wrapped his arms around her and drew her even closer to him in a tight hug.
When she drew away slightly, her eyes were bright with something Neville couldn’t quite identify, but all thoughts flew from his mind when she pulled him down for another searing kiss.
Somehow, they’d managed to stumble into his bedroom. He muttered a spell, and the candles in his room flared to light. Hermione had to pull away for a moment to admire his spellwork, and Neville laughed at her eagerness to learn how he distributed the magic evenly and how he keyed the wicks to react to the charm. He shushed her by boldly brushing a kiss against the back of her ear, promising her that he’d tell her of all the details.
About seven years’ worth of unrequited chemistry between them burst into flame now that they’d reached his bedroom, and no more words were spoken as they shed their clothes amidst heated, lingering kisses.
After a moment’s hesitation and shyness after they’d removed all clothing and all protective charms had been cast, they moved onto his large bed, exploring one another’s bodies by muted candlelight, memorizing the touch and taste and sound and sensation. Neville made her sigh as he laved her collarbone with an open-mouthed kiss, made her gasp with delight as his mouth ghosted upon a nipple, coaxing it to stiffness with lips and tongue and teeth. Employing the meager knowledge he possessed-not from actual experience, but from hearsay and from his perusal of written material-he slid a hand between their bodies and delved gently in that sacred niche between her legs. The sound of her moan as his fingers stroked the slick folds sent a jolt of molten desire through him, and her soft outcry as his thumb found and rubbed against the center of her pleasure almost made him come then and there.
However, he was determined that she have find her ecstasy first; even if he was so aroused that he wanted nothing but to sheathe himself inside her and to thrust into her heat until they climaxed, he decided that he’d attend to her first. Neville continued to caress her aching flesh, concentrating upon her sounds of pleasure and the shifting of her hips as his guide. Finally, when she began to stiffen, he rubbed his fingers more deliberately against the utterly responsive nub; a blush spread across her cheeks, and she shuddered beneath him, letting out a whimper as she found her release.
Neville gave her time to rest, watching her as she regained her breath and her strength. He took that moment to admire her beauty. Although he knew that she never considered herself to be attractive, he believed otherwise. She was beautiful in her own way, and the longer one watched her, the more beautiful she seemed. Especially now, with her face flushed pink with desire, lips swollen from their kisses, her hair a cascade of wild curls upon the pillow. However, what made her truly beautiful was her heart, and that was what Neville considered to be most important.
Hermione opened her eyes to gaze at him, and she whispered breathlessly, “That was . . . oh . . . thank you,” she instead said, snuggling up to his side. She pulled him down to her and gave him a languorous kiss, to which he responded fervidly.
“Hermione,” he breathed against her mouth, “have you . . . done this before?”
“No . . .”
“Oh,” he said. “Neither have I.”
A smile curved upon her lips, and her eyes became fathomless pools of rich amber in the candlelight. “Good,” she said.
Neville would have laughed, except that her tiny hand suddenly wrapped around his hardness, again chasing all thought away. His hips moved against her palm without his meaning to, seeking more friction, and he steadied himself with a sharp gasp. Hermione guided him to the apex between her thighs, and he positioned himself atop her. Taking a deep breath, he pushed inside, his breath hitching as he was surrounded by her tight warmth. He thrust into her gently and felt himself tear through resistance. Realizing that he’d broken her maidenhead, he raised his head to look at her; her eyes brimmed with unshed tears, and he felt his stomach plummet. He meant to pull away, but she jumped in alarm and clutched him to her, preventing any movement.
“Hermione,” he ventured tentatively, forcing the words out through the haze of pleasure, “if it hurts . . . I’ll stop . . .”
“No,” she protested, tightening her hold on his shoulders, “it’ll . . . go away . . .” And with that, she moved underneath him, and he gasped as liquid fire unfurled in his veins.
He found that he couldn’t restrain himself anymore, and neither did Hermione seem to want him to; she began to rock against him, and he couldn’t do anything else but move inside and atop her. Soon, he was thrusting in earnest, his hands curled into the pillow under her head. There was a sweetly painful tension coiling in the pit of his stomach, and he moved faster, knowing that it was about to snap. Hermione was writhing against him now, letting out quiet whimpers that further heated his blood.
He moaned her name, and she gasped his in response as they moved and met, creating the wonderful friction between their bodies.
Amidst their motions, she threaded her fingers through his hair and tilted her head upwards, laying a kiss upon his parted lips. White streaked before his vision, and he kissed her back deeply before pulling away and pressing his forehead to hers as the building coil snapped. Pleasure tore through him, stealing his breath and making him cry out as he shivered above her. He felt Hermione tremble beneath him, her tight heat clenching around him as she, too, reached her peak; she let out his name in a keening whimper, and her arms ensconced him as he fell boneless against her.
Neville lay in her embrace, winded but thoroughly happy. He made to move away, but she held him fast, whispering, “Stay.”
“You’ll be sore,” he whispered back. Lethargy was already creeping up on him, and he feared falling asleep on top of her.
“Just a while,” she yawned.
When he finally pulled out of her, his soft groan lost in her hair, she was already asleep. He moved to her side and shifted so that she lay in his arms. He touched his wand atop the bedside table and muttered another spell; the candles flickered out. Settling back beside her, he closed his eyes and drifted off into slumber as well.
Neville awoke to the sensation of something ticklish against his nose. He blinked, and realized that it was Hermione’s hair. Suddenly, the events of the previous night came rushing back to him, and he found that he still had the ability to blush. He looked fondly to the sleeping girl in his arms.
Caressing her hair, he murmured aloud, “Hermione Granger, I’m in love with you, and . . . Harry and Ron and Gran are going to kill me for last night.” He let out a chuckle, and resumed stroking her tresses.
“There’s only one thing to do about it, then,” her voice piped up against his chest, and he looked at her in surprise, startled to realize that she had been awake. “You know, to make sure that they don’t kill you.” She turned to look at him, giving him an almost coy smile.
“And what would that be?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
She lowered her gaze. “You could marry me,” she suggested.
Neville felt the world was a much brighter place. “Yes, I could,” he said, nodding once.
“December would be great.”
“That’s five months from now.”
She nodded.
“Alright, then.”
Hermione was silent for a while. Then, she put in, “I’m going to order you around, you know. I’ll be horrendously bossy.”
Neville couldn’t help but laugh. “I know. I won’t mind. I’ll like it.” When Hermione turned to look at him incredulously, he couldn’t help but quip, “And I mean it in that way.”
END.
Characters/Pairings: Neville/Hermione, mentions of Harry, Ron, and Neville’s grandmother
Summary: Neville finally musters up the courage to ask his Healer and longtime friend out for dinner.
Rating: MA (R to mild NC-17) for mildly explicit sex
Genre: Romance
Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter or any of the characters therein, and I’m not earning anything from this venture.
Author’s Notes: This is my response to inell’s request for the Fandom Drabble Exchange Challenge. I tried to put in a bit of an S&M kink for Neville, although nothing too overt . . . Here’s to you, inell! :D
Now, to pips_n_chiaw’s and pencil_gal’s requests, and the request for the dmhgficexchange . . .
Finding Our Happy Ending
Hermione, would you have dinner with me? Too presumptuous.
I’d be delighted if you’d accompany me to dinner. Too suave.
Maybe we could hang out sometime? Too much like a fresh schoolboy.
Hermione, thank you so much for the exceptional care you’ve given me; I feel no aftereffects of the curse now . . . In order to show my appreciation, may I treat you to dinner, snog you madly, marry you, get you into my bed, have children with you, and grow old with you?
Neville was panicking. He only had a few minutes left before his last check-up and perhaps consequent discharge from St. Mungo’s, and he had yet to think of a way to ask his Healer out. He bit his lip, wondering if it was unethical. But then, they’d been friends since their days in Hogwarts, and they’d even fought side-by-side during the War.
He was actually truly blessed to have been under her care, for she was one of the most renowned Mediwitches in their time, and she was well-sought after for her expertise in the field.
Just as he was formulating another way to ask her out, Hermione entered his private room. Before Neville could stop himself, he thought of how lovely she looked in her lime-green Healer’s robes . . . and how lovely she’d look in something else . . . or something that covered less . . .
He slapped himself mentally. He didn’t want to have such thoughts about the friend who’d helped him through so many fixes, from their time in school to the present.
“Good morning, Neville,” Hermione said as she bustled in, giving him a smile. “How are you feeling today?”
“Better,” he replied earnestly. “Thank you so much for your help.”
“Think nothing of it,” she answered warmly. She took the clipboard from its holder at the foot of his bed and checked his records. “As you know, I’m just going to give you another check-up. But judging by your record, I think that you’ll be going home today; your condition’s improved greatly over the past two weeks.” She strode over to his side and began her methodical inspection, prodding him gently with her wand, and using complex spells to see any internal damage.
When she was satisfied with his condition, she stepped away, scribbling something on his clipboard. “I’m happy to say that you will indeed be going home today,” Hermione said with a smile. “I’ve just fixed your release papers; when you’re ready to go, just present these to the desk at the far end of the right corridor when you exit.” She handed him a slip of parchment.
“Thank you again; I can’t express how grateful I am-” he began, but she stopped him.
“I’m happy to have been your Healer,” Hermione said, reaching out and giving his arm a light squeeze. “Well, I’ve got to dash . . . I’ll see you again soon! Although I hope that it’s not here,” she said with a grin.
Just as she was stepping out the door, Neville called, “Wait!”
She turned around and looked at him expectantly.
“Could we hang out sometime-I mean, we could go to dinner-I mean, you know, you’ve done so much for me, and I really want to repay you-but of course, that’s not why we’re going out-I mean, we’re not going out, it’s just dinner-”
Neville felt himself grow hot. He trailed off, realizing he’d put in his foot in his mouth. “Er . . .”
Hermione laughed, not unkindly. She gave him another warm smile. “I’d love to.”
“This Friday?” he blurted out.
She nodded. “You know the end of my shift.”
“I’ll meet you then? In the lobby?”
She nodded again. “Alright. Got to dash. See you, Neville!” And with that, she was gone.
Friday’s dinner went exceptionally well. Neville took Hermione to a cozy Spanish restaurant in one of the more secluded alleys of Hogsmeade, and they’d talked about a good deal of things over their paella and their red wine. She looked fetching that evening in a burgundy dress, and Neville found his eyes drawn to the loose tendrils of hair that had escaped her bun and now brushed softly against her cheek as she moved.
“Living with Harry and Ron’s great, although I have to clean up after them sometimes,” she was saying with wry amusement. “But it’s wonderful to be living with your two best friends.”
“They’re very lucky,” Neville said almost wistfully.
Hermione let out a peal of laughter. “Perhaps. But I think not,” she opined as she took a delicate sip of her wine. “I nag them and order them around all the time.”
Neville felt a twinge of longing. “I wouldn’t mind if you ordered me around,” he murmured shyly before he could stop himself.
Hermione’s eyebrows rose. Neville felt heat suffuse his cheeks. “I didn’t mean it in that way . . .”
She was looking at him strangely. “I’m surprised that you think that I think you meant it that way.”
He blushed even more. “Sorry-”
To his astonishment, she chuckled. “You don’t have to be.” Deftly steering the topic away, she said, “Where’re we going next?”
Clearing his throat awkwardly, he said, “Well, maybe we could get some desert somewhere . . . or we could just walk around a bit, if you’d like . . .”
She said that that sounded nice, so he paid for their dinner (he’d denied her over and again when she insisted that she’d pay for half) and the two of them decided to have a stroll around the park and the gardens in the center of Hogsmeade.
“The sky’s lovely tonight,” he said, breaking the silence as they sat beside one another upon one of the
stone benches strategically located around the park.
“The stars are particularly beautiful,” she agreed. Silence descended once again, and this time, she spoke first.
“Thank you for dinner.” Her voice was soft and warm.
“You’re welcome,” he said.
“Why’d you take me out?”
Neville coughed. He knew that he couldn’t say that it was just to repay her kindness, and he didn’t want to lie by telling her that it was a friendly gesture. “Um . . .”
The seconds ticked on uncomfortably. She remained silent, and finally, Neville felt that he had to speak.
“Well, I just . . . I wanted to . . . Er . . .” He coughed. “I . . .
IreallylikeyouI’velikedyoueversinceandI-” He was babbling again.
He was stunned when she put her fingers lightly over his mouth. “Kiss me?” she asked softly.
Neville’s head swam, and he thought that his heart would burst in his chest. He reached out to her with shaky hands, and after a moment’s uncertainty, he cupped the back of her neck, leaned in, and pressed his lips to hers.
“Hermione, I-” Neville moaned as she cut him off with another heated kiss, pulling him by his collar and pressing his body against hers as she backed onto the door of his apartment. His mind was still swimming, as all blood seemed to have left his brain, heading in a southward direction with their activities. He couldn’t help but let out a choked groan as his growing hardness rubbed against the cradle of her thighs.
With much effort on his part, he pulled away reluctantly, running an unsteady hand through his mussed blond hair, although he made no move to distance himself from her. “I know that I invited you back to my place . . . and I just have to make sure . . . are you certain that you want to be here?” he asked tentatively, catching his bottom lip between his teeth with anxiety.
Her eyes darkened as she noticed the motion, but she drew in a deep breath and said, “Of course I want to be here.” She lowered her head. “That’s why I asked to be your Healer. I wanted to spend time with you. Didn’t want us to drift apart after Hogwarts and the War,” she admitted softly.
Neville felt bittersweet warmth bloom through his chest, mingling with his surprise, making him feel both languid and giddy. “You . . . asked to be my Healer?” he repeated in shock.
She nodded feebly. Neville couldn’t help himself; he wrapped his arms around her and drew her even closer to him in a tight hug.
When she drew away slightly, her eyes were bright with something Neville couldn’t quite identify, but all thoughts flew from his mind when she pulled him down for another searing kiss.
Somehow, they’d managed to stumble into his bedroom. He muttered a spell, and the candles in his room flared to light. Hermione had to pull away for a moment to admire his spellwork, and Neville laughed at her eagerness to learn how he distributed the magic evenly and how he keyed the wicks to react to the charm. He shushed her by boldly brushing a kiss against the back of her ear, promising her that he’d tell her of all the details.
About seven years’ worth of unrequited chemistry between them burst into flame now that they’d reached his bedroom, and no more words were spoken as they shed their clothes amidst heated, lingering kisses.
After a moment’s hesitation and shyness after they’d removed all clothing and all protective charms had been cast, they moved onto his large bed, exploring one another’s bodies by muted candlelight, memorizing the touch and taste and sound and sensation. Neville made her sigh as he laved her collarbone with an open-mouthed kiss, made her gasp with delight as his mouth ghosted upon a nipple, coaxing it to stiffness with lips and tongue and teeth. Employing the meager knowledge he possessed-not from actual experience, but from hearsay and from his perusal of written material-he slid a hand between their bodies and delved gently in that sacred niche between her legs. The sound of her moan as his fingers stroked the slick folds sent a jolt of molten desire through him, and her soft outcry as his thumb found and rubbed against the center of her pleasure almost made him come then and there.
However, he was determined that she have find her ecstasy first; even if he was so aroused that he wanted nothing but to sheathe himself inside her and to thrust into her heat until they climaxed, he decided that he’d attend to her first. Neville continued to caress her aching flesh, concentrating upon her sounds of pleasure and the shifting of her hips as his guide. Finally, when she began to stiffen, he rubbed his fingers more deliberately against the utterly responsive nub; a blush spread across her cheeks, and she shuddered beneath him, letting out a whimper as she found her release.
Neville gave her time to rest, watching her as she regained her breath and her strength. He took that moment to admire her beauty. Although he knew that she never considered herself to be attractive, he believed otherwise. She was beautiful in her own way, and the longer one watched her, the more beautiful she seemed. Especially now, with her face flushed pink with desire, lips swollen from their kisses, her hair a cascade of wild curls upon the pillow. However, what made her truly beautiful was her heart, and that was what Neville considered to be most important.
Hermione opened her eyes to gaze at him, and she whispered breathlessly, “That was . . . oh . . . thank you,” she instead said, snuggling up to his side. She pulled him down to her and gave him a languorous kiss, to which he responded fervidly.
“Hermione,” he breathed against her mouth, “have you . . . done this before?”
“No . . .”
“Oh,” he said. “Neither have I.”
A smile curved upon her lips, and her eyes became fathomless pools of rich amber in the candlelight. “Good,” she said.
Neville would have laughed, except that her tiny hand suddenly wrapped around his hardness, again chasing all thought away. His hips moved against her palm without his meaning to, seeking more friction, and he steadied himself with a sharp gasp. Hermione guided him to the apex between her thighs, and he positioned himself atop her. Taking a deep breath, he pushed inside, his breath hitching as he was surrounded by her tight warmth. He thrust into her gently and felt himself tear through resistance. Realizing that he’d broken her maidenhead, he raised his head to look at her; her eyes brimmed with unshed tears, and he felt his stomach plummet. He meant to pull away, but she jumped in alarm and clutched him to her, preventing any movement.
“Hermione,” he ventured tentatively, forcing the words out through the haze of pleasure, “if it hurts . . . I’ll stop . . .”
“No,” she protested, tightening her hold on his shoulders, “it’ll . . . go away . . .” And with that, she moved underneath him, and he gasped as liquid fire unfurled in his veins.
He found that he couldn’t restrain himself anymore, and neither did Hermione seem to want him to; she began to rock against him, and he couldn’t do anything else but move inside and atop her. Soon, he was thrusting in earnest, his hands curled into the pillow under her head. There was a sweetly painful tension coiling in the pit of his stomach, and he moved faster, knowing that it was about to snap. Hermione was writhing against him now, letting out quiet whimpers that further heated his blood.
He moaned her name, and she gasped his in response as they moved and met, creating the wonderful friction between their bodies.
Amidst their motions, she threaded her fingers through his hair and tilted her head upwards, laying a kiss upon his parted lips. White streaked before his vision, and he kissed her back deeply before pulling away and pressing his forehead to hers as the building coil snapped. Pleasure tore through him, stealing his breath and making him cry out as he shivered above her. He felt Hermione tremble beneath him, her tight heat clenching around him as she, too, reached her peak; she let out his name in a keening whimper, and her arms ensconced him as he fell boneless against her.
Neville lay in her embrace, winded but thoroughly happy. He made to move away, but she held him fast, whispering, “Stay.”
“You’ll be sore,” he whispered back. Lethargy was already creeping up on him, and he feared falling asleep on top of her.
“Just a while,” she yawned.
When he finally pulled out of her, his soft groan lost in her hair, she was already asleep. He moved to her side and shifted so that she lay in his arms. He touched his wand atop the bedside table and muttered another spell; the candles flickered out. Settling back beside her, he closed his eyes and drifted off into slumber as well.
Neville awoke to the sensation of something ticklish against his nose. He blinked, and realized that it was Hermione’s hair. Suddenly, the events of the previous night came rushing back to him, and he found that he still had the ability to blush. He looked fondly to the sleeping girl in his arms.
Caressing her hair, he murmured aloud, “Hermione Granger, I’m in love with you, and . . . Harry and Ron and Gran are going to kill me for last night.” He let out a chuckle, and resumed stroking her tresses.
“There’s only one thing to do about it, then,” her voice piped up against his chest, and he looked at her in surprise, startled to realize that she had been awake. “You know, to make sure that they don’t kill you.” She turned to look at him, giving him an almost coy smile.
“And what would that be?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
She lowered her gaze. “You could marry me,” she suggested.
Neville felt the world was a much brighter place. “Yes, I could,” he said, nodding once.
“December would be great.”
“That’s five months from now.”
She nodded.
“Alright, then.”
Hermione was silent for a while. Then, she put in, “I’m going to order you around, you know. I’ll be horrendously bossy.”
Neville couldn’t help but laugh. “I know. I won’t mind. I’ll like it.” When Hermione turned to look at him incredulously, he couldn’t help but quip, “And I mean it in that way.”
END.