fic: Broomstick Handling
Day 22 of Advent Drabbles! Two today, since I forgot to post this one last night, meep!
Title: Broomstick Handling
Rating: PG
Word Count: 600
Pairing(s)/Characters: Neville/Oliver (mention of past Neville/Hannah)
Warnings: none!
Summary: Neville wanted to teach his son, Frankie, how to ride a broom. Trouble was, Neville was terrible at it! Harry suggested he consult the best of the best, Oliver Wood.
Notes: For emansil_08, who requested "Neville/Oliver" with "Neville comes to Oliver for help on how to 'ride a broom'". I think you were hoping for pervy porn, but this wouldn't leave me alone! Just imagine the perviness that happens later. ;) Happy holidays!
Broomstick Handling
The shop was smaller than Neville expected, filled to the brim with chunks of wood bigger than his entire body and a fine layer of sawdust that seemed to settle on top of everything. In the front, it had looked so pristine and dusted, everything shining and new; but Neville supposed not everyone went into the back, so it could look however Oliver Wood wanted it to.
Spotting his former classmate, a man he hadn't seen in years and really hadn't had much to do with at Hogwarts either, Neville raised a hand in greeting.
Behind a large desk with huge metal stands holding what appeared to be half a tree trunk, stood Oliver Wood, immense goggles over his eyes and that same sheen of dust propelling from the wood to his face, shoulders, chest, and arms. The dragon-hide gloves he wore were covered in it, but Oliver didn't seem bothered by the mess. He held up a hand to let Neville know he'd seen him and to wait until he was through, and then continued the long swipes of his wand over the wood, carving and whittling the trunk into a smoother shape.
Neville glanced around while he waited. When the noises finally ceased and Oliver blew the dust off the trunk, half of an exquisitely-carved broomstick was visible.
"Here about the lessons, I take it?" Oliver asked, shaking the dust and wood chippings from his face like a wet dog might after a bath. "I've got about an hour today." He pulled the goggles up to rest against the top of his head, pushing his hair back.
With his face fully exposed, Neville got that lump in his stomach that happened whenever he began to fancy someone. It had only been a year since his divorce from Hannah, and he hadn't been with another man since well before he got married. It was strange to feel it to suddenly and based on pure physical attraction-usually, Neville liked to get to know someone before he fancied them. But given Oliver's handsome, dark eyes, strong nose, and winning smile, Neville knew he was doomed and wondered for the first time if that was why Harry suggested he seek out Oliver for training instead.
Thirty minutes later, when Oliver was behind him on a broomstick, thigh-to-thigh, pelvis-to-arse, showing him how best to manoeuvre, Neville made a mental note to thank Harry next time they saw one another.
Title: Broomstick Handling
Rating: PG
Word Count: 600
Pairing(s)/Characters: Neville/Oliver (mention of past Neville/Hannah)
Warnings: none!
Summary: Neville wanted to teach his son, Frankie, how to ride a broom. Trouble was, Neville was terrible at it! Harry suggested he consult the best of the best, Oliver Wood.
Notes: For emansil_08, who requested "Neville/Oliver" with "Neville comes to Oliver for help on how to 'ride a broom'". I think you were hoping for pervy porn, but this wouldn't leave me alone! Just imagine the perviness that happens later. ;) Happy holidays!
Broomstick Handling
The shop was smaller than Neville expected, filled to the brim with chunks of wood bigger than his entire body and a fine layer of sawdust that seemed to settle on top of everything. In the front, it had looked so pristine and dusted, everything shining and new; but Neville supposed not everyone went into the back, so it could look however Oliver Wood wanted it to.
Spotting his former classmate, a man he hadn't seen in years and really hadn't had much to do with at Hogwarts either, Neville raised a hand in greeting.
Behind a large desk with huge metal stands holding what appeared to be half a tree trunk, stood Oliver Wood, immense goggles over his eyes and that same sheen of dust propelling from the wood to his face, shoulders, chest, and arms. The dragon-hide gloves he wore were covered in it, but Oliver didn't seem bothered by the mess. He held up a hand to let Neville know he'd seen him and to wait until he was through, and then continued the long swipes of his wand over the wood, carving and whittling the trunk into a smoother shape.
Neville glanced around while he waited. When the noises finally ceased and Oliver blew the dust off the trunk, half of an exquisitely-carved broomstick was visible.
"Here about the lessons, I take it?" Oliver asked, shaking the dust and wood chippings from his face like a wet dog might after a bath. "I've got about an hour today." He pulled the goggles up to rest against the top of his head, pushing his hair back.
With his face fully exposed, Neville got that lump in his stomach that happened whenever he began to fancy someone. It had only been a year since his divorce from Hannah, and he hadn't been with another man since well before he got married. It was strange to feel it to suddenly and based on pure physical attraction-usually, Neville liked to get to know someone before he fancied them. But given Oliver's handsome, dark eyes, strong nose, and winning smile, Neville knew he was doomed and wondered for the first time if that was why Harry suggested he seek out Oliver for training instead.
Thirty minutes later, when Oliver was behind him on a broomstick, thigh-to-thigh, pelvis-to-arse, showing him how best to manoeuvre, Neville made a mental note to thank Harry next time they saw one another.