Not So Hopeless (R, 1134 words)
Title: Not So Hopeless
Rating: R
Words: 1134
Summary: After the Quidditch Final in Half-Blood-Prince, Neville finds himself discussing relationships with Katie Bell of all people. Shameless fluff, absolutely no plot.
Notes: For csi_tokyo3, who wanted it. This hasn't been beta-read, but my grammar is pretty good. :)
Not So Hopeless
The giggling and cat-calling of Harry and Ginny's sudden public kiss died down rather quickly after the two had left the common room.
Neville looked rather enviously at the closed portrait hole. He'd always had a soft spot for Ginny--she was pretty, she was funny, and she'd gone with him to the Yule Ball two years ago.
"They make a cute couple, don't they?" said a voice beside him.
"Yeah," Neville sighed, turning to Katie Bell. "Great playing today, by the way. That thing you did when you faked upward and made that other Chaser nearly fall off? That was brilliant."
Katie grinned widely. "Thanks. It was a bit of a risk, since we could have collided, but he fell for it."
"Yeah," Neville said again.
There was an awkward moment of silence in which Neville realized he was staring at Katie's swept-back hair and the way it wisped around her forehead. He looked away quickly, but not before he noticed Katie's pleased expression.
"I think they're meant for each other," Katie said, snagging another butterbeer from the refreshments table next to them. She picked one up and held it out to Neville. "Harry and Ginny, I mean. Similar temperaments and everything."
He took it with a "Thanks," then said, "Yes -- they certainly look good together."
"Well, Ginny would look good with anyone," Katie said.
"Yeah," Neville sighed.
Katie smirked. "Sweet on her?"
Neville started. "Oh. Er... well, yes, a bit -- Who isn't? She's really nice."
"She is at that." Katie took a swig of her butterbeer. Then she looked sympathetically at Neville. "But she's taken, Neville. Don't wait."
"I know."
"I forget, have you had any relationships here?"
"No, not really." Neville tried not to look too dejected.
"Ever been kissed?" Katie put her head to one side.
The butterbeer inside Neville told him this was a perfectly logical and acceptable question, coming from a girl he only knew slightly.
"Yes, once, by Ginny."
"Was it nice?"
Katie was very, very close. She put her butterbeer down.
"Yes," said Neville, feeling himself going pink. "It was quite nice."
"How nice?"
"Erm..."
"As nice as this?"
And with no further warning, Neville found himself being kissed by a girl just as tall as he was. Too keep his balance (yes, that was the only reason), he fumbled his own butterbeer onto the table and put his arms around her. She was very slightly soft around the middle, but her back muscles felt firm underneath.
Her lips pressed against his, and her skin smelled so very, very good: still a bit sweaty, but very much girl.
Then something exploded in Neville's gut and he found himself kissing her back. He pushed his tongue against her lips, something he'd read about but never dared do with Ginny that one time, and felt hers part. The feeling of tongue on tongue was odd, but exhilarating.
Still lip-locked, they stumbled over to a convenient bit of wall. Katie pushed Neville up against it and proceeded to run her tongue over his teeth. A growl rose up from deep within him, and he moved his hands lower, towards her buttocks. He half-expected her to slap his hands away, but to his surprise she inched closer, pushing herself into his grasp.
Girls' arses, Neville decided, were definitely the nicest thing ever. Katie had an extremely nice one, just the right size to fit in his hands.
They broke the kiss and stared at each other.
"This is insane," Katie said.
Neville's breath froze, and he prepared to be slapped.
"But what the hell, you're a good kisser."
And she dove for his mouth again.
Neville kept his right hand on her arse and moved his left up, under her loose shirt. Back muscles... yum. Soft bits on the side... yum.
Katie let go of Neville's lips and moved to his throat.
Oh!
That was good. He clutched spasmically at her body as all the blood rushed to his nether regions.
His hands felt dissociated from the rest of him, but were at the same time super-sensitive, sending far too much information for his brain to process.
Katie grabbed the hand that was on her waist and, before Neville could worry that he was doing something wrong, moved it around to her breast.
Obediently, and knowing that he had a loony grin on his face, Neville squeezed where it landed. He felt a little hard pebble rise up underneath the fabric of her brassiere, and Katie let out a little mew of satisfaction.
"Under," she gasped before diving for his mouth again.
Neville could barely think, but he fumbled and managed to get his hand underneath her brassiere, which stretched easily. He'd thought bras had wire on them, but maybe hers was special.
Katie's warm breast felt wonderful. He didn't want to hurt her by squeezing so hard, so he stroked it gently.
Katie nearly howled. She certainly bucked against him.
Neville knew she'd have felt his erection, and froze, breaking the kiss, but Katie murmured, "That feels good," and simply rubbed her groin against his.
"Won't--won't someone see?" Neville asked.
"Too busy"--She kissed him--"partying."
Neville felt distinctly under pressure now. He could feel his genitals trembling, just the way they did whenever he masturbated, and worried that he'd come in his robes. Katie was rubbing against him, and he was squeezing one of her breasts in one hand and a buttock in the other. She slid one leg around his, and he felt himself going light-headed.
"I'm going to-- I'm going to--" he gasped into her tongue.
And then, to his utter mortification, he felt a spasm and a sudden wet spurt. With a little cry, he shuddered against Katie and then went limp.
Katie moved back a few inches and looked at him.
"Did you just...?" she asked.
Neville wanted to cry. He nodded, looking at his feet. "'M sorry."
There was silence. Neville waited for Katie's shoes to walk away, for her to snort or scoff, but she didn't.
"Look at me," she said. "Look."
Tentatively, he raised his head and looked at her. To his surprise, she was smiling kindly.
"It's nothing to be ashamed of. It's perfectly normal--you're only, what, sixteen?"
Neville nodded, still feeling miserable.
"In fact, I'm a bit pleased that I brought you to that point. Makes me feel awfully sexy and appealing."
"Well, you are," he muttered.
"Thanks," she said, beaming. "Anyway, want to find a broom closet and keep going? I don't feel quite finished, and you can't possibly be tired yet."
Neville's mouth hung open. Katie apparently took this as a yes, for she grabbed his hand (she was holding his hand!) and dragged him across the common room and out through the portrait hole.