Wall Flowers
Title: Wall Flowers
Rating: PG
Summary: It’s Ron’s birthday, and he has a decision to make.
Pairing: Ron/Neville, Ron/Harry, Neville/Hermione hinted at.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Spoilers: Mostly OotP, but a few scattered or hinted at for the earlier ones.
Feedback: Yes, please.
Disclaimer: Not mine, and the characters belong to J. K. Rowling. For the couch challenge for the Contrelamontre Community. Done in 45 minutes.
You think to yourself that Neville is the best looking boy at the party as you watch him flop down on the Common Room couch and sigh, running his hand through his short hair.
Neville always keeps his hair short. And although you think he might look even better if it were just a bit longer, you wonder what it might feel like under your fingertips.
Your birthday party continues around him. Dean waves his wand, and the radio plays a song by the Weird Sisters. You stand against the wall, butterbeer in hand, and settle to watch Neville.
You can feel Harry approaching you from behind, and his breath is hot against the side of your neck. You feel his small hands on your hips. It’s a close touch you’ve noticed that Harry rarely bestows on anyone, so you’re careful not to flinch.
“You um, could just go to him, you know,” he says softly. You nod in agreement, but don’t move.
On the couch, Neville looks up and smiles at Hermione as she sits by him on the arm of the couch. You think his smile lights up the entire room.
She leans over Neville a little and you see her say something to him, but from where you’re standing against the wall, you can’t hear it at all.
Neville’s laugh, which has deepened a lot over the years since you first met him as a crying child looking for a lost toad, drifts across to you in the room.
You sigh.
“Come on, Mate,” Harry says. His fingers press reassuringly into the flesh of your hips, just enough for you to notice. “Go to him. It’s your birthday party. Enjoy it a little.”
You turn your head to look at Harry. Dear, sweet Harry, who has always been there for you with the green eyes you like but never flat out told him, and the black hair and the scar…
“I can’t,” you whisper back to him and touch his cheek. “Not after what happened last night. I need to be here.”
You bite your lower lip. You and Harry never talk about nights like last night, when you can hear him moan in pain from his dreams and his connection with Voldemort. You never talk about the fact that you often crawl into bed with him now, pull him close to you, and kiss that scar, trying to soothe the dreams away.
And you never mention to anyone at all how you’ve seen Harry turn ashen in his sleep and murmur something about how somehow, because of that scar, it was him and not Neville. Although you have chosen not to ask Harry what those words mean, you have a feeling that it has to do with the connection he shares with Voldemort, and all that’s happened to Harry in these last five years.
What you hope is that Harry will tell you himself, but what you know is that you and Harry haven’t talked about quite a few things lately, and that saddens and scares you.
And makes you look back towards Neville, even now, and find him attractive.
Harry’s fingers cover your own, warm and dry and somewhat smaller than yours.
“Ron, it’s OK to go to him. I’m fine. Really,” he says.
You think to yourself that in so many ways, Harry is exactly what a Gryffindor should be: loyal, caring, and brave. Gryffindors are supposed to be true friends.
As you glance back over at the couch, you realize, so is Neville. The difference is that Neville is subtle, quiet, and unobtrusive where Harry is outgoing, vocal, and in some people’s eyes, interfering.
You watch Neville let his head drop to Hermione’s knee, and her finger trace the hair over his ear. Neville closes his eyes in contentment.
“Ron, I feel like I’m being forced to watch a Dynasty rerun with my Aunt Petunia. Again,” Harry says half jokingly.
You gulp. This Dynasty must be a Muggle thing. “Neville doesn’t know that I like him.”
“And at this rate, he never will,” Harry says. His look turns serious. “Look Mate, with the war going on now, we may not have that many moments to enjoy ourselves. Please go on and make this one. For me.”
You find yourself staring at Harry. Harry, who almost lost his life four times over the last five years that you know about. Harry, who risked his life to save yours. Harry, who has seen more pain than anyone you know, even Neville who has to see his parents at St. Mungo’s.
Harry, who is now pushing you to go flirt with Neville Longbottom on your birthday, not because he wants to see it, but because he wants you to be happy.
It is here that you realize you don’t want to be on the couch with Neville at all.
“I’m not going over to Neville,” you say.
Harry sighs. “And why not?”
You press your thumb against the underside of Harry’s jaw, tilt it up, and brush your lips lightly against Harry’s. His gasp sounds like music to your ears, and you pull back and tilt your forehead against his.
“Because I’ve decided, I think I’d rather stand here against the wall with you.”
Harry slowly grins, and the light his smile gives is nearly enough to blind everything.
Rating: PG
Summary: It’s Ron’s birthday, and he has a decision to make.
Pairing: Ron/Neville, Ron/Harry, Neville/Hermione hinted at.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Spoilers: Mostly OotP, but a few scattered or hinted at for the earlier ones.
Feedback: Yes, please.
Disclaimer: Not mine, and the characters belong to J. K. Rowling. For the couch challenge for the Contrelamontre Community. Done in 45 minutes.
You think to yourself that Neville is the best looking boy at the party as you watch him flop down on the Common Room couch and sigh, running his hand through his short hair.
Neville always keeps his hair short. And although you think he might look even better if it were just a bit longer, you wonder what it might feel like under your fingertips.
Your birthday party continues around him. Dean waves his wand, and the radio plays a song by the Weird Sisters. You stand against the wall, butterbeer in hand, and settle to watch Neville.
You can feel Harry approaching you from behind, and his breath is hot against the side of your neck. You feel his small hands on your hips. It’s a close touch you’ve noticed that Harry rarely bestows on anyone, so you’re careful not to flinch.
“You um, could just go to him, you know,” he says softly. You nod in agreement, but don’t move.
On the couch, Neville looks up and smiles at Hermione as she sits by him on the arm of the couch. You think his smile lights up the entire room.
She leans over Neville a little and you see her say something to him, but from where you’re standing against the wall, you can’t hear it at all.
Neville’s laugh, which has deepened a lot over the years since you first met him as a crying child looking for a lost toad, drifts across to you in the room.
You sigh.
“Come on, Mate,” Harry says. His fingers press reassuringly into the flesh of your hips, just enough for you to notice. “Go to him. It’s your birthday party. Enjoy it a little.”
You turn your head to look at Harry. Dear, sweet Harry, who has always been there for you with the green eyes you like but never flat out told him, and the black hair and the scar…
“I can’t,” you whisper back to him and touch his cheek. “Not after what happened last night. I need to be here.”
You bite your lower lip. You and Harry never talk about nights like last night, when you can hear him moan in pain from his dreams and his connection with Voldemort. You never talk about the fact that you often crawl into bed with him now, pull him close to you, and kiss that scar, trying to soothe the dreams away.
And you never mention to anyone at all how you’ve seen Harry turn ashen in his sleep and murmur something about how somehow, because of that scar, it was him and not Neville. Although you have chosen not to ask Harry what those words mean, you have a feeling that it has to do with the connection he shares with Voldemort, and all that’s happened to Harry in these last five years.
What you hope is that Harry will tell you himself, but what you know is that you and Harry haven’t talked about quite a few things lately, and that saddens and scares you.
And makes you look back towards Neville, even now, and find him attractive.
Harry’s fingers cover your own, warm and dry and somewhat smaller than yours.
“Ron, it’s OK to go to him. I’m fine. Really,” he says.
You think to yourself that in so many ways, Harry is exactly what a Gryffindor should be: loyal, caring, and brave. Gryffindors are supposed to be true friends.
As you glance back over at the couch, you realize, so is Neville. The difference is that Neville is subtle, quiet, and unobtrusive where Harry is outgoing, vocal, and in some people’s eyes, interfering.
You watch Neville let his head drop to Hermione’s knee, and her finger trace the hair over his ear. Neville closes his eyes in contentment.
“Ron, I feel like I’m being forced to watch a Dynasty rerun with my Aunt Petunia. Again,” Harry says half jokingly.
You gulp. This Dynasty must be a Muggle thing. “Neville doesn’t know that I like him.”
“And at this rate, he never will,” Harry says. His look turns serious. “Look Mate, with the war going on now, we may not have that many moments to enjoy ourselves. Please go on and make this one. For me.”
You find yourself staring at Harry. Harry, who almost lost his life four times over the last five years that you know about. Harry, who risked his life to save yours. Harry, who has seen more pain than anyone you know, even Neville who has to see his parents at St. Mungo’s.
Harry, who is now pushing you to go flirt with Neville Longbottom on your birthday, not because he wants to see it, but because he wants you to be happy.
It is here that you realize you don’t want to be on the couch with Neville at all.
“I’m not going over to Neville,” you say.
Harry sighs. “And why not?”
You press your thumb against the underside of Harry’s jaw, tilt it up, and brush your lips lightly against Harry’s. His gasp sounds like music to your ears, and you pull back and tilt your forehead against his.
“Because I’ve decided, I think I’d rather stand here against the wall with you.”
Harry slowly grins, and the light his smile gives is nearly enough to blind everything.