Happy Valentine's Day!
Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine.
Written for: ♥ Valentine’s Day drabbles, The Harry Potter requests
1-4 are slash:
Neville/Ron, Neville/Percy, Neville/Charlie, Neville/Harry
5-8 are het:
Neville/Luna, Hooch/Shacklebolt, Harry/Hermione, Neville/Ginny
Written for: blindswandive
Pairing: Neville/unusual slash pairing Prompt: attempt at cooking
Ron answered the back door with the air of a man being chased by hounds. He seized the bag from Neville’s hands, peering inside at the flour, currants, and eggs. “Thanks for helping me out with this, Neville, you’re a peach!”
Neville knew it was just talk, but the word ‘peach’ being applied in a personal context made him color slightly.
He followed Ron into the kitchen curiously. “What are you trying to make bread for anyway?”
“Never make a thoughtless remark about how easy housework is in earshot of my mother,” Ron explained, shuddering a little and looking pale under his freckles. “I’m dis-invited from the big family dinner she had planned today unless I show up with the rolls.”
“Oh, dear.”
“Yeah. They have to be handmade, too, or she’ll know.” Ron ripped open the bag of flour and began pouring it at apparent random into one of the many bowls he had spread all over the counter. “I hope I didn’t inconvenience you too much, it being a holiday and all…”
This was Neville’s first Valentine’s Day on his own since the whole Draco debacle, but he wasn’t about to mention if it Ron was really dense enough to have forgotten.
“I wasn’t doing anything,” he said simply. “Maybe I could help.”
A dusty hand on his shoulder indicated that Ron had not, after all, forgotten. “I’ll take all the help I can get, mate.”
It was a fine effort, during which they messed up the entire kitchen, got egg yolk on the wall, sugar on the floor, and currants in the sink. They just had time for a cup of coffee and a quick chat about the Cannons before the bell went off on the stove.
They stared down into the pan. It was a sad, sad sight.
“Oh, no,” Ron drawled out softly.
“Wait. She didn’t say they had to be good rolls, did she?” Neville asked.
Ron brightened. “She didn’t! You know, she’ll probably like it all the better if she can say I told you so!” He tried to tip the rolls into a bowl for transportation, then sheepishly got out a spatula and scraped them in. Then he headed for the Floo.
He had stepped on the hearth and had a handful of powder ready before he realized Neville was still standing there. “Well, what are you waiting for, we don’t want to miss the first course!” He grabbed Neville by the arm and gave him a tug.
Next thing Neville knew, he was spilling out into the Weasley’s welcoming living room, Ron tumbling out behind him. There was warm laughter and red hair everywhere. He was hauled to his feet and given a glass of red punch before he could blink.
The triumphant shriek could only mean Mrs. Weasley had seen the rolls.
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Written for: emiime
Pairing: Neville/Percy Prompt: flower
Neville was feeling his way down the Ministry corridor behind an enormous bouquet of flowers, groping for the lift button, when he heard a voice behind him, light and disapproving.
“You dropped something.”
Neville rotated, spotting a single orchid on the carpet. “Can’t stop now,” he said apologetically. “These have to be delivered by noon or my expedite Galleon goes up in smoke.” The chime rang on the lift, and Neville maneuvered into it, catching a glimpse of red hair through the greenery and blooms.
Ten minutes later, Neville came back by the row of desks to find the orchid still lying on the carpet.
“Was it too heavy for you?” Neville asked dryly.
“I am NOT your personal clean up detail,” Percy said, slamming one of the file cabinets shut as best he could considering it was over four feet long and bowing with folders.
Neville crouched down and picked up the flower, straightening up slowly. “If you don’t mind me asking…”
“I do. Very much. Good Bye.”
Neville murmured a quick aquacharm and filled Percy’s pencil cup with water, over his outraged sputterings, and set the stem of the orchid in neatly. “Have a nice day,” he said simply, and left.
*
“All right, Longbottom. I demand an explanation.”
“About what, Percy?” Neville asked innocently.
“About the orchid that’s been showing up on my desk every morning for the last three weeks. People are starting to tease me for having a secret admirer.”
“Funny, I didn’t think I was being all that secret about it.”
Percy turned red. “I thought… it was a joke of some sort. That you were teasing me.”
“You thought that for three weeks?” Neville sounded aghast. He stood up and crossed the room to stand in front of Percy. “I thought everyone knew how seriously I take all things Herbological.”
“Yes, well, it being you and all, I was willing to entertain the possibility that maybe it wasn’t malicious, but I wasn’t sure.”
Neville leaned in and pressed his lips to Percy’s in a kiss that left no room for misinterpretation, and after a moment of stunned surprise, Percy began kissing back with equal intensity.
After several long moments of thoroughly ruffling up Percy, Neville drew slowly away. “Are you sure now?”
Percy adjusted his glasses over his flushed cheeks. “Um. Well. I might require a little more convincing. Just… so we’re perfectly clear?”
Neville smiled, and moved in to oblige.
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Written for: secretsolitaire
Pairing: Neville/Charlie Prompt: surprise
“SURPRISE!” yelled a dozen voices.
Neville dropped the bag of takeaway in his hands, falling backwards out of his doorway as all the lights came on in his flat and a herd of people shouted their regards.
“Whoa, easy there, it’s just my family being insane,” laughed a voice behind him. Large hands steadied his elbow, then he was staring down at Charlie Weasley as the man gathered Neville’s Chinese cartons and keys from the snow.
“It’s n-not my birthday,” he stammered.
“Mum, the man says it’s not his birthday,” Charlie said as he brushed past his mother, several siblings, and someone Neville had never seen in his life eating cake from a plate.
“Well, I know that, son. Neville, dear, Ron told us all about your promotion at work, and how you’ve just moved into this … charming little flat, and we thought we’d come help you celebrate.”
“Oh. That’s very kind of you...” he began, just as one of the younger, hipper Weasleys put on some music.
“The neighbors-“ Neville began anxiously over the beat.
The cake-eating stranger waved at him with his fork.
“Not to worry!” Molly shouted. “All invited! Have something to eat!”
As soon as he could do so graciously, Neville slipped away into his tiny kitchen. He found Charlie at the table eating fried rice and snow peas out of a carton with a pair of chopsticks. Neville sat down in the only other chair. Charlie had a bottle of butterbeer at his elbow.
“Didn’t think you’d mind,” Charlie said, indicating the bottle. “Didn’t realize it was the last one until I opened it, though.”
“Oh, it’s fine…”
“Peanut oil made me too thirsty to care.”
“You’re good with those,” Neville said quietly after a moment. “I never could get the hang of them.”
“Chopsticks?” Charlie laughed. He handed them over to Neville, pushed the carton closer. “Go for a snow pea first, they’re easier to navigate.”
Neville gave it a shot, Charlie’s calloused fingers moving Neville’s along the length of the sticks once or twice to get him a better grip. Neville eventually managed it, and was soon chewing on a crisp green vegetable.
“Mum meant well, you know,” Charlie said thoughtfully. “She worries about those of us out on our own.”
“I like your Mum,” Neville said. He accepted the butterbeer Charlie slid at him, took a drink of it.
“I think she approves of you, too.”
Neville wondered what exactly that meant, or that rather enigmatic smile that tugged briefly at one corner of Charlie’s lips before he hid it behind another drink of the butterbeer.
But he didn’t question it. It was nice enough to have the company of this one person, here in the muted stillness of the kitchen, to share his favorite meal with. On the other side of the door, the party went merrily on without them.
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Written for: j_lunatic
Pairing: Neville/Harry Prompt: Flitterblooms
“I need some Flitterblooms,” Harry announced.
Neville looked up from his ledger. “Well, hullo, Harry. It’s been a while.”
Harry felt the sigh leave him as if of its own accord. “I’ve been away,” he said vaguely, hoping Neville wouldn’t press for details. “Do you have any in stock?”
“It’s the day before Valentine’s, are you kidding? I’ve got three greenhouses full of them. Did you want white, pink, or yellow?”
“It doesn’t matter. They’re for a potion, not a bouquet.”
“Come on, then.”
Harry followed Neville out the back into the gray, cloudy afternoon. They went down a gravel path, and got inside one of the steamy-windowed greenhouses just as the rain started to fall. Harry stared around in wonder, awed in spite of himself. The plants rose to the ceiling on tall lattices, and the white blooms were moving like thousands of drowsy butterflies.
“Blooms, berries, leaves, roots, shoots, or stems?” Neville asked.
“What?”
“Your potion?”
“Oh. Leaves, actually.”
“I’ll wrap some up.”
While Neville gathered some greenery from a bin and folded it into preserving paper, Harry wandered around. It was warm here, enough he had to pull his scarf off. The light from the overhead lanterns shone brightly. He found himself standing at a glass wall, looking outside, watching the water sluice down in earnest.
“Why don’t you stay here and wait out the rain, Harry?” Neville offered.
“I’m not afraid of the rain,” Harry said quietly, as lightning forked across the sky.
“Nobody said you were afraid of anything,” Neville pointed out.
The inside of the glass had grown opaque as the temperature outside dropped, Harry reached out to run his finger across it, leaving a mark. He weighed his options. Back out into the cold rain. Or here in a glass box full of Flitterblooms, fragrance and light. Here with Neville. He found he had written his friend’s name in the liquid tablet of condensation.
Steady hands on his shoulders would have made him jump, if the heat and weight of them hadn’t calmed him to his soul. He closed his eyes, leaned back into Neville’s strength. He’d missed this.
Like he’s missed Neville’s breath in his hair.
“Stay until the rain stops,” Neville murmured.
Maybe it was his imagination, but the flitterblooms seemed to be moving faster, as if speeding up to match the pace of Harry’s heart. “I’m sorry I ran away again,” he whispered, reaching up to grip the arm that had moved across his chest. “I’ll stay until the rain stops. I’ll stay until it starts again. I’ll stay until you’ve had enough of me.”
“Careful before you make that offer, Harry,” Neville warned him softly. “That would take a lifetime.”
Harry’s fingers tightened on Neville’s wrist. “Promise?”
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Written for: ireneadler
Pairing: Neville/Luna Prompt: soup
Neville wasn’t going to answer the door when the chime rang, because he was what his old Gran had used to call “under the weather.” He’d taken the day off specifically to avoid people, and the necessity of having to make conversation with them.
He hadn’t remembered to lock his door, however, and he hadn’t taken into account the determination of one willowy Ravenclaw alum.
“Yoohoo?” called an unmistakable voice. Neville barely had time to pull the bedspread over his pajamas before Luna waltzed in, glowing in her usual soft way. She was carrying a brown paper bag on a tray, it was sending forth a very enticing aroma.
“I heard you were in need of the Lovegood family remedy.”
“What is it?” Neville asked suspiciously.
“Chicken soup.”
Neville relaxed, but only marginally. With Luna you never could be too sure. “What’s in it?”
“Chickens, I would imagine. That’s what they led me to believe at the takeaway shop.”
“You bought it at a shop?” Neville brightened considerably. When she had set up the little bowl and cup of tea for him, he picked up the spoon and began to eat. As he made his way through the meal, Luna was drawing little figures in the air with her wand. It was strangely mesmerizing, the glowing shapes of rabbits and flowers forming across his bedroom, along with something that may or may not have been intended as a cow but was painted in silvery blue lines with heart shaped spots.
By the time he had finished the soup and taken his nightly potion he was quite tired, he thanked Luna sincerely and bade her good night. She bade him good night right back and then climbed into the bed with him.
“Um…Luna? Not that I mind, but what are you doing?”
“Body heat,” she said simply.
Neville was too tired to argue with her, much less try to evict her. He’d known her way too long. He turned over instead and murmured nox.
That was when he felt her lithe arms wrap around him.
Wouldn’t Seamus and Dean laugh, he thought absently. Get a beautiful woman in my bed and she’s here to save me from hypothermia.
“This will make an interesting first date to tell our children about,” Luna said thoughtfully in his ear.
Neville didn’t know what part of that to respond to first. “Um. This is a date?”
“You got dinner and a show, didn’t you?” Luna pointed out calmly.
Neville smiled a little, closed his eyes, laying his hand over Luna’s where it rested on his chest. Conversations like this often sent lesser men running from Luna’s vicinity, but he found her refreshing. And maybe it was the chicken soup, but he was feeling better all ready.
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Written for: a_bees_buzz
Pairing: Hooch/Shacklebolt Prompt: brooms and chocolate
“THE GRAYBOLL MANUEVER, YOU SLACKERS! THE GRAYBOLL! ”
Kingsley winced as a wild-looking woman with spiked hair bellowed across the stadium. He would have to get the seat next to a nut job when all he wanted was a relaxing afternoon away from the office. The woman dropped back into her seat, her eyes still glued to the field. “Imagine using the Wronsky Feint for a double dive with two Beaters right there begging for an opening,” she muttered, arms folded across her chest. She was wearing the odd combination of a black leather jacket and a pink and green wool scarf with fringed edges and a felted flower pinning it together.
“I thought it was rather clever,” he ventured.
She shot him a glare. “You would. All you men ever think about is bulldozing your way along, when a little finesse would get you what you want in half the time.”
He cleared his throat. “Twice the time, generally, but usually half the cost, I’ll grant you.”
“Oh, whatever.”
The game commenced. Kingsley got rather used to the outbursts after a while. By the third hour he was looking forward to the commentary and by the fourth they were arguing plays and commiserating on the apparent nearsightedness of both Seekers.
“I’m going for some hot chocolate,” he announced, during a lull in the action. “May I bring you something?”
“Yes, that sounds lovely, thank you.” She reached into her coat for her purse, but he stood up before she could take it out.
“I’ll get it,” he said. “Next week you can buy the popcorn.”
She arched a brow at him, and a smile touched the corner of her lips. “Deal.”
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Written for: inell
Pairing: Harry/Hermione Prompt: I riffed it from your icon. Oh, and it’s EWE. White, fluffy, wooly EWE.
Harry had never quite understood Hermione’s intense fascination with string, but who was he to argue with it. Especially when it made Valentine’s Day so much easier.
It was a tradition, now. Since he didn’t know the first thing about all the different types and weights of yarns, he just went in and grabbed an armful of whatever caught his eyes, and Hermione’s personal challenge was to find something to make out of it. He hadn’t managed to stymie her with anything yet, not that that surprised him a bit, although he had learned that glittery acrylic stuff was not nearly as well received as rich variegated wool stuff.
He seemed to have done well this year. Hermione was giddy over the bag of bluegreens and deep purples, already talking about mittens and intarsia handbags. He watched her for a long time, sitting there beside him on the sofa, chattering on happily and winding one of the skeins into a ball, and wrapping loops around her pink aluminum needle.
“I love how you’ve always had my back,” he said quietly.
“What?” She looked up in surprise from making her swatch, a strand of green stretching from her elegant hand to the skein. She smiled a little, nearly laughed. “Are you getting all sentimental on Valentine’s Day?” she teased, incredulous.
“I’m serious, Hermione. Ever since I met you, no matter what, thick or thin, up or down, I always knew you had my back. I can’t tell you what that’s meant to me.”
“Harry.” She set down the yarn and moved closer to him, her eyes intense. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine. Could you take your hair down for me?”
Looking confused and concerned, she indulged him in his request, taking the stick from the comb holding up her bun and letting her hair tumble down. He reached out to touch it, hands trembling slightly. He didn’t know what had been wrong with him all his life, that he should suddenly on this day at this hour with this woman discover that the world was full of texture and color and beauty. It felt like something thin and brittle had just cracked and fallen away, that he hadn’t even known was there, and he didn’t know what it had been, only that it had protected him a long time, but he didn’t need it anymore, and everything was suddenly dazzling bright and begging to be touched, felt, seen.
“Harry?”
He’d said “I love you” to his wife a thousand times. And he’d meant it. But know he could feel it, too, all the way through to his core. He’d felt this way before while flying, but never in the presence of a fellow human being. It was humbling. It was dizzying. It was brilliant.
He leaned in to kiss her. It was probably the thousandth time. But it might as well have been the first.
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Written for: coffee_n_cocoa
Pairing: Neville/Ginny Prompt: unexpected declarations
Neville wasn’t very good with surprises, but he did his best. After all, you had to be good with surprises, if you were going to love this girl. You had to be prepared to find out she had tossed over Harry for Dean. You had to be prepared when Dean was tossed over for Harry. You had to at least be able to pick yourself up off the metaphorical floor after finding out she was tossing over Harry for you.
The ride only got wilder from there.
There was the day she told you she was joining a pro Quidditch team, and you had to cope with finding out you were moving to Wales by the end of the week.
Then there was the day she told you she quit, and you had to deal with moving back.
By the time their eighth wedding anniversary rolled around, Neville prided himself on his ability to handle anything his wonderful, wild-haired wife could throw at him.
“Neville,” she said, handing him his annual Valentine/Anniversary card with his morning cup of tea. “We’re pregnant.”
Recovery time: less than two seconds. “That’s wonderful, Ginny! I’ll start on the extra room immediately. Gran’ll be so happy.”
She settled in the chair beside him, close enough he could see all her freckles, even the teeny tiny little ones in the corner of her smile. “We’re having twins.”
Recovery time: a little more than four seconds.
“Well, they… do run in your family, don’t they? Twice the fun.”
“I want to name them Ferdinand and Glorioso.”
Neville finally spilled his tea. Ginny’s grin stretched out wide as a Quidditch field. “I’m kidding. Just wanted to see you blink.”
He laughed weakly. “You got me good,” he allowed, then smiled quietly. “Because you know we’ll have to name them Algernon and August. Family tradition.”
Ginny stood up. “What?” she flared.
It was good to know that after all this time, Neville had finally surprised his wife.
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Written for: ♥ Valentine’s Day drabbles, The Harry Potter requests
1-4 are slash:
Neville/Ron, Neville/Percy, Neville/Charlie, Neville/Harry
5-8 are het:
Neville/Luna, Hooch/Shacklebolt, Harry/Hermione, Neville/Ginny
Written for: blindswandive
Pairing: Neville/unusual slash pairing Prompt: attempt at cooking
Ron answered the back door with the air of a man being chased by hounds. He seized the bag from Neville’s hands, peering inside at the flour, currants, and eggs. “Thanks for helping me out with this, Neville, you’re a peach!”
Neville knew it was just talk, but the word ‘peach’ being applied in a personal context made him color slightly.
He followed Ron into the kitchen curiously. “What are you trying to make bread for anyway?”
“Never make a thoughtless remark about how easy housework is in earshot of my mother,” Ron explained, shuddering a little and looking pale under his freckles. “I’m dis-invited from the big family dinner she had planned today unless I show up with the rolls.”
“Oh, dear.”
“Yeah. They have to be handmade, too, or she’ll know.” Ron ripped open the bag of flour and began pouring it at apparent random into one of the many bowls he had spread all over the counter. “I hope I didn’t inconvenience you too much, it being a holiday and all…”
This was Neville’s first Valentine’s Day on his own since the whole Draco debacle, but he wasn’t about to mention if it Ron was really dense enough to have forgotten.
“I wasn’t doing anything,” he said simply. “Maybe I could help.”
A dusty hand on his shoulder indicated that Ron had not, after all, forgotten. “I’ll take all the help I can get, mate.”
It was a fine effort, during which they messed up the entire kitchen, got egg yolk on the wall, sugar on the floor, and currants in the sink. They just had time for a cup of coffee and a quick chat about the Cannons before the bell went off on the stove.
They stared down into the pan. It was a sad, sad sight.
“Oh, no,” Ron drawled out softly.
“Wait. She didn’t say they had to be good rolls, did she?” Neville asked.
Ron brightened. “She didn’t! You know, she’ll probably like it all the better if she can say I told you so!” He tried to tip the rolls into a bowl for transportation, then sheepishly got out a spatula and scraped them in. Then he headed for the Floo.
He had stepped on the hearth and had a handful of powder ready before he realized Neville was still standing there. “Well, what are you waiting for, we don’t want to miss the first course!” He grabbed Neville by the arm and gave him a tug.
Next thing Neville knew, he was spilling out into the Weasley’s welcoming living room, Ron tumbling out behind him. There was warm laughter and red hair everywhere. He was hauled to his feet and given a glass of red punch before he could blink.
The triumphant shriek could only mean Mrs. Weasley had seen the rolls.
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Written for: emiime
Pairing: Neville/Percy Prompt: flower
Neville was feeling his way down the Ministry corridor behind an enormous bouquet of flowers, groping for the lift button, when he heard a voice behind him, light and disapproving.
“You dropped something.”
Neville rotated, spotting a single orchid on the carpet. “Can’t stop now,” he said apologetically. “These have to be delivered by noon or my expedite Galleon goes up in smoke.” The chime rang on the lift, and Neville maneuvered into it, catching a glimpse of red hair through the greenery and blooms.
Ten minutes later, Neville came back by the row of desks to find the orchid still lying on the carpet.
“Was it too heavy for you?” Neville asked dryly.
“I am NOT your personal clean up detail,” Percy said, slamming one of the file cabinets shut as best he could considering it was over four feet long and bowing with folders.
Neville crouched down and picked up the flower, straightening up slowly. “If you don’t mind me asking…”
“I do. Very much. Good Bye.”
Neville murmured a quick aquacharm and filled Percy’s pencil cup with water, over his outraged sputterings, and set the stem of the orchid in neatly. “Have a nice day,” he said simply, and left.
*
“All right, Longbottom. I demand an explanation.”
“About what, Percy?” Neville asked innocently.
“About the orchid that’s been showing up on my desk every morning for the last three weeks. People are starting to tease me for having a secret admirer.”
“Funny, I didn’t think I was being all that secret about it.”
Percy turned red. “I thought… it was a joke of some sort. That you were teasing me.”
“You thought that for three weeks?” Neville sounded aghast. He stood up and crossed the room to stand in front of Percy. “I thought everyone knew how seriously I take all things Herbological.”
“Yes, well, it being you and all, I was willing to entertain the possibility that maybe it wasn’t malicious, but I wasn’t sure.”
Neville leaned in and pressed his lips to Percy’s in a kiss that left no room for misinterpretation, and after a moment of stunned surprise, Percy began kissing back with equal intensity.
After several long moments of thoroughly ruffling up Percy, Neville drew slowly away. “Are you sure now?”
Percy adjusted his glasses over his flushed cheeks. “Um. Well. I might require a little more convincing. Just… so we’re perfectly clear?”
Neville smiled, and moved in to oblige.
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Written for: secretsolitaire
Pairing: Neville/Charlie Prompt: surprise
“SURPRISE!” yelled a dozen voices.
Neville dropped the bag of takeaway in his hands, falling backwards out of his doorway as all the lights came on in his flat and a herd of people shouted their regards.
“Whoa, easy there, it’s just my family being insane,” laughed a voice behind him. Large hands steadied his elbow, then he was staring down at Charlie Weasley as the man gathered Neville’s Chinese cartons and keys from the snow.
“It’s n-not my birthday,” he stammered.
“Mum, the man says it’s not his birthday,” Charlie said as he brushed past his mother, several siblings, and someone Neville had never seen in his life eating cake from a plate.
“Well, I know that, son. Neville, dear, Ron told us all about your promotion at work, and how you’ve just moved into this … charming little flat, and we thought we’d come help you celebrate.”
“Oh. That’s very kind of you...” he began, just as one of the younger, hipper Weasleys put on some music.
“The neighbors-“ Neville began anxiously over the beat.
The cake-eating stranger waved at him with his fork.
“Not to worry!” Molly shouted. “All invited! Have something to eat!”
As soon as he could do so graciously, Neville slipped away into his tiny kitchen. He found Charlie at the table eating fried rice and snow peas out of a carton with a pair of chopsticks. Neville sat down in the only other chair. Charlie had a bottle of butterbeer at his elbow.
“Didn’t think you’d mind,” Charlie said, indicating the bottle. “Didn’t realize it was the last one until I opened it, though.”
“Oh, it’s fine…”
“Peanut oil made me too thirsty to care.”
“You’re good with those,” Neville said quietly after a moment. “I never could get the hang of them.”
“Chopsticks?” Charlie laughed. He handed them over to Neville, pushed the carton closer. “Go for a snow pea first, they’re easier to navigate.”
Neville gave it a shot, Charlie’s calloused fingers moving Neville’s along the length of the sticks once or twice to get him a better grip. Neville eventually managed it, and was soon chewing on a crisp green vegetable.
“Mum meant well, you know,” Charlie said thoughtfully. “She worries about those of us out on our own.”
“I like your Mum,” Neville said. He accepted the butterbeer Charlie slid at him, took a drink of it.
“I think she approves of you, too.”
Neville wondered what exactly that meant, or that rather enigmatic smile that tugged briefly at one corner of Charlie’s lips before he hid it behind another drink of the butterbeer.
But he didn’t question it. It was nice enough to have the company of this one person, here in the muted stillness of the kitchen, to share his favorite meal with. On the other side of the door, the party went merrily on without them.
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Written for: j_lunatic
Pairing: Neville/Harry Prompt: Flitterblooms
“I need some Flitterblooms,” Harry announced.
Neville looked up from his ledger. “Well, hullo, Harry. It’s been a while.”
Harry felt the sigh leave him as if of its own accord. “I’ve been away,” he said vaguely, hoping Neville wouldn’t press for details. “Do you have any in stock?”
“It’s the day before Valentine’s, are you kidding? I’ve got three greenhouses full of them. Did you want white, pink, or yellow?”
“It doesn’t matter. They’re for a potion, not a bouquet.”
“Come on, then.”
Harry followed Neville out the back into the gray, cloudy afternoon. They went down a gravel path, and got inside one of the steamy-windowed greenhouses just as the rain started to fall. Harry stared around in wonder, awed in spite of himself. The plants rose to the ceiling on tall lattices, and the white blooms were moving like thousands of drowsy butterflies.
“Blooms, berries, leaves, roots, shoots, or stems?” Neville asked.
“What?”
“Your potion?”
“Oh. Leaves, actually.”
“I’ll wrap some up.”
While Neville gathered some greenery from a bin and folded it into preserving paper, Harry wandered around. It was warm here, enough he had to pull his scarf off. The light from the overhead lanterns shone brightly. He found himself standing at a glass wall, looking outside, watching the water sluice down in earnest.
“Why don’t you stay here and wait out the rain, Harry?” Neville offered.
“I’m not afraid of the rain,” Harry said quietly, as lightning forked across the sky.
“Nobody said you were afraid of anything,” Neville pointed out.
The inside of the glass had grown opaque as the temperature outside dropped, Harry reached out to run his finger across it, leaving a mark. He weighed his options. Back out into the cold rain. Or here in a glass box full of Flitterblooms, fragrance and light. Here with Neville. He found he had written his friend’s name in the liquid tablet of condensation.
Steady hands on his shoulders would have made him jump, if the heat and weight of them hadn’t calmed him to his soul. He closed his eyes, leaned back into Neville’s strength. He’d missed this.
Like he’s missed Neville’s breath in his hair.
“Stay until the rain stops,” Neville murmured.
Maybe it was his imagination, but the flitterblooms seemed to be moving faster, as if speeding up to match the pace of Harry’s heart. “I’m sorry I ran away again,” he whispered, reaching up to grip the arm that had moved across his chest. “I’ll stay until the rain stops. I’ll stay until it starts again. I’ll stay until you’ve had enough of me.”
“Careful before you make that offer, Harry,” Neville warned him softly. “That would take a lifetime.”
Harry’s fingers tightened on Neville’s wrist. “Promise?”
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Written for: ireneadler
Pairing: Neville/Luna Prompt: soup
Neville wasn’t going to answer the door when the chime rang, because he was what his old Gran had used to call “under the weather.” He’d taken the day off specifically to avoid people, and the necessity of having to make conversation with them.
He hadn’t remembered to lock his door, however, and he hadn’t taken into account the determination of one willowy Ravenclaw alum.
“Yoohoo?” called an unmistakable voice. Neville barely had time to pull the bedspread over his pajamas before Luna waltzed in, glowing in her usual soft way. She was carrying a brown paper bag on a tray, it was sending forth a very enticing aroma.
“I heard you were in need of the Lovegood family remedy.”
“What is it?” Neville asked suspiciously.
“Chicken soup.”
Neville relaxed, but only marginally. With Luna you never could be too sure. “What’s in it?”
“Chickens, I would imagine. That’s what they led me to believe at the takeaway shop.”
“You bought it at a shop?” Neville brightened considerably. When she had set up the little bowl and cup of tea for him, he picked up the spoon and began to eat. As he made his way through the meal, Luna was drawing little figures in the air with her wand. It was strangely mesmerizing, the glowing shapes of rabbits and flowers forming across his bedroom, along with something that may or may not have been intended as a cow but was painted in silvery blue lines with heart shaped spots.
By the time he had finished the soup and taken his nightly potion he was quite tired, he thanked Luna sincerely and bade her good night. She bade him good night right back and then climbed into the bed with him.
“Um…Luna? Not that I mind, but what are you doing?”
“Body heat,” she said simply.
Neville was too tired to argue with her, much less try to evict her. He’d known her way too long. He turned over instead and murmured nox.
That was when he felt her lithe arms wrap around him.
Wouldn’t Seamus and Dean laugh, he thought absently. Get a beautiful woman in my bed and she’s here to save me from hypothermia.
“This will make an interesting first date to tell our children about,” Luna said thoughtfully in his ear.
Neville didn’t know what part of that to respond to first. “Um. This is a date?”
“You got dinner and a show, didn’t you?” Luna pointed out calmly.
Neville smiled a little, closed his eyes, laying his hand over Luna’s where it rested on his chest. Conversations like this often sent lesser men running from Luna’s vicinity, but he found her refreshing. And maybe it was the chicken soup, but he was feeling better all ready.
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Written for: a_bees_buzz
Pairing: Hooch/Shacklebolt Prompt: brooms and chocolate
“THE GRAYBOLL MANUEVER, YOU SLACKERS! THE GRAYBOLL! ”
Kingsley winced as a wild-looking woman with spiked hair bellowed across the stadium. He would have to get the seat next to a nut job when all he wanted was a relaxing afternoon away from the office. The woman dropped back into her seat, her eyes still glued to the field. “Imagine using the Wronsky Feint for a double dive with two Beaters right there begging for an opening,” she muttered, arms folded across her chest. She was wearing the odd combination of a black leather jacket and a pink and green wool scarf with fringed edges and a felted flower pinning it together.
“I thought it was rather clever,” he ventured.
She shot him a glare. “You would. All you men ever think about is bulldozing your way along, when a little finesse would get you what you want in half the time.”
He cleared his throat. “Twice the time, generally, but usually half the cost, I’ll grant you.”
“Oh, whatever.”
The game commenced. Kingsley got rather used to the outbursts after a while. By the third hour he was looking forward to the commentary and by the fourth they were arguing plays and commiserating on the apparent nearsightedness of both Seekers.
“I’m going for some hot chocolate,” he announced, during a lull in the action. “May I bring you something?”
“Yes, that sounds lovely, thank you.” She reached into her coat for her purse, but he stood up before she could take it out.
“I’ll get it,” he said. “Next week you can buy the popcorn.”
She arched a brow at him, and a smile touched the corner of her lips. “Deal.”
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Written for: inell
Pairing: Harry/Hermione Prompt: I riffed it from your icon. Oh, and it’s EWE. White, fluffy, wooly EWE.
Harry had never quite understood Hermione’s intense fascination with string, but who was he to argue with it. Especially when it made Valentine’s Day so much easier.
It was a tradition, now. Since he didn’t know the first thing about all the different types and weights of yarns, he just went in and grabbed an armful of whatever caught his eyes, and Hermione’s personal challenge was to find something to make out of it. He hadn’t managed to stymie her with anything yet, not that that surprised him a bit, although he had learned that glittery acrylic stuff was not nearly as well received as rich variegated wool stuff.
He seemed to have done well this year. Hermione was giddy over the bag of bluegreens and deep purples, already talking about mittens and intarsia handbags. He watched her for a long time, sitting there beside him on the sofa, chattering on happily and winding one of the skeins into a ball, and wrapping loops around her pink aluminum needle.
“I love how you’ve always had my back,” he said quietly.
“What?” She looked up in surprise from making her swatch, a strand of green stretching from her elegant hand to the skein. She smiled a little, nearly laughed. “Are you getting all sentimental on Valentine’s Day?” she teased, incredulous.
“I’m serious, Hermione. Ever since I met you, no matter what, thick or thin, up or down, I always knew you had my back. I can’t tell you what that’s meant to me.”
“Harry.” She set down the yarn and moved closer to him, her eyes intense. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine. Could you take your hair down for me?”
Looking confused and concerned, she indulged him in his request, taking the stick from the comb holding up her bun and letting her hair tumble down. He reached out to touch it, hands trembling slightly. He didn’t know what had been wrong with him all his life, that he should suddenly on this day at this hour with this woman discover that the world was full of texture and color and beauty. It felt like something thin and brittle had just cracked and fallen away, that he hadn’t even known was there, and he didn’t know what it had been, only that it had protected him a long time, but he didn’t need it anymore, and everything was suddenly dazzling bright and begging to be touched, felt, seen.
“Harry?”
He’d said “I love you” to his wife a thousand times. And he’d meant it. But know he could feel it, too, all the way through to his core. He’d felt this way before while flying, but never in the presence of a fellow human being. It was humbling. It was dizzying. It was brilliant.
He leaned in to kiss her. It was probably the thousandth time. But it might as well have been the first.
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Written for: coffee_n_cocoa
Pairing: Neville/Ginny Prompt: unexpected declarations
Neville wasn’t very good with surprises, but he did his best. After all, you had to be good with surprises, if you were going to love this girl. You had to be prepared to find out she had tossed over Harry for Dean. You had to be prepared when Dean was tossed over for Harry. You had to at least be able to pick yourself up off the metaphorical floor after finding out she was tossing over Harry for you.
The ride only got wilder from there.
There was the day she told you she was joining a pro Quidditch team, and you had to cope with finding out you were moving to Wales by the end of the week.
Then there was the day she told you she quit, and you had to deal with moving back.
By the time their eighth wedding anniversary rolled around, Neville prided himself on his ability to handle anything his wonderful, wild-haired wife could throw at him.
“Neville,” she said, handing him his annual Valentine/Anniversary card with his morning cup of tea. “We’re pregnant.”
Recovery time: less than two seconds. “That’s wonderful, Ginny! I’ll start on the extra room immediately. Gran’ll be so happy.”
She settled in the chair beside him, close enough he could see all her freckles, even the teeny tiny little ones in the corner of her smile. “We’re having twins.”
Recovery time: a little more than four seconds.
“Well, they… do run in your family, don’t they? Twice the fun.”
“I want to name them Ferdinand and Glorioso.”
Neville finally spilled his tea. Ginny’s grin stretched out wide as a Quidditch field. “I’m kidding. Just wanted to see you blink.”
He laughed weakly. “You got me good,” he allowed, then smiled quietly. “Because you know we’ll have to name them Algernon and August. Family tradition.”
Ginny stood up. “What?” she flared.
It was good to know that after all this time, Neville had finally surprised his wife.
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