HP Fic: What Might, In Some Circles, Be Called The Start of Something Beautiful
Title: What Might, In Some Circles, Be Called The Start of Something Beautiful
Pairing: Neville/Hannah (mentions H/G, R/Hr)
Rating: Teen. I think I mention boobs? Maybe?
Summary: It's Harry Potter's birthday, but he's not the one who really gets a gift. The way it all began for Neville and Hannah. Happy Birthday, Jules!!!
What Might, In Some Circles, Be Called The Start of Something Beautiful
The night air was heavy with humidity and the smell of London in summer. Neville Longbottom stuck his hands in his trouser pockets and contemplated the Leaky Cauldron from across the street. Only for Harry Potter would he consider leaving his Mandrakes in this weather - the heat did them no favors - for a noisy, smoky pub. Sighing, he braced himself. So loyal I should've been a Hufflepuff, he thought ruefully.
When he pushed open the doors, a bell rang merrily above him. He looked up, startled. There hadn't been any bells on the doors at the Leaky Cauldron the last time he'd been there.
“Neville!” A cheer went up from a booth across the pub, and Neville couldn't help but blush. He still wasn't used to the idea that his friends might want to see him - something Ginny still got tiffy about in her letters to him. Neville, the latest one had begun, let me introduce you to the concept of the Floo Network.
The honest truth was that he still sometimes lost himself in his plants, in the steady rhythm of life, and forgot that there were people who liked him. Luna told him that was because his grandmother had been such a horrid old bag for most of his life, but Neville rather thought that was putting too much blame on an old lady who had been trying to do her best with a rather sad lot in life.
“Hello!” he said, and oomphed in surprise when Ginny rose to her feet and tackled him in a hug. “It's nice to see you too.”
“You never leave those greenhouses,” Ginny said, and pulled away from him with an accusing finger. “I'm just going to have to go in there and spray all those plants with Muggle pesticide, don't think I won't!”
“Sorry about her,” Harry Potter said apologetically, delicately moving Ginny to the side so he could shake Neville's hand firmly. “She's had a few pints and you know how she gets...”
“Shut your mouth, Harry Potter, or you'll be sleeping on the couch for a week,” Ginny said seriously. “I've been saying all along that we need to see more of Neville! It's just... flowing out of my mouth easier, for some reason.”
“That's because you're an easy drunk. Wotcher, Neville!” Ron pushed himself out of his chair a bit unsteadily and shook Neville's hand. “Good to see you. Wouldn't be a party without you, mate. Order a pint and catch up. I'm going to win, at this rate.”
“And what contest would that be?” Hermione Granger asked, coming up behind Neville and giving him an awkward one-armed hug, as her other hand was clasped firmly around a chilled glass of wine. “The contest to see who can be the most annoying drunk?”
“That would be you, without a doubt,” Ginny said seriously. “No one else quotes Shakespeare when they're drunk. No one.”
“Isn't she brilliant?” Ron asked, beaming, and laid a sloppy kiss on Hermione's mouth. She laughed and pushed him away half-heartedly.
“Is Luna coming?” Ginny asked, settling herself in Harry's lap and gesturing for Neville to take her old place. “I tried to get ahold of her but no such luck.”
“She's in Barbados at the moment,” Neville answered, studying the limited menu as he settled himself in the chair. “Looking for some imaginary creature or the other - thumple-winged dunbacks, I believe she said. She's met a new bloke out there. He seems to be all right.”
“Oh, Neville,” Hermione said sympathetically and reached across the table from where she sat next to Ron. Neville noted that they were a bit more subtle than Harry and Ginny - Ron's hand lay gently on Hermione's thigh. “I thought you two were dating.”
“Not really, no,” Neville said with a soft smile. “We've always been good friends, but trying to be a couple would have been diasterous - I'm not sure how to handle her at the best of times.”
“That means you're free and easy then!” Ron leaned forward on the table. “Being single's got its advantages, you know.”
Hermione smacked him lightly but nodded at the general sentiment. “I certainly miss it, some days.”
Ron stuck his tongue out at her, and she nudged him in retaliation.
“Oh! I forgot to say! Happy Birthday, Harry!” Neville said, and reached into his pocket. “I didn't want to get you something you already had, and I know you and Ginny aren't much for plants and all that, so...”
He handed Harry a slim card. Harry opened it and read it, his smile growing wider as he did so. “A night in Hogsmeade on Neville Longbottom!” he exclaimed. “Thanks, mate!”
“It's the least I can do. Everytime I'm down there, Madam Rosemerta asks about you. So, I thought... why not give you and me a gift?”
“It'll be good to go back, now that they're done restoring the village,” Ginny said thoughtfully.
“It looks nice,” Neville offered, not sure of what else to say. “Doesn't look quite the same, but all of the businesses are back.”
“Slowly but surely, mate,” Ron said, nodding solemnly. “Rule on Britannia. Nothing ever gets us down. Not even ruddy Voldemort. Cheers!”
Harry nodded in agreement. “Fuck 'im. And cheers!” Ron and Harry both drained their pints.
“Neville,” Ron said, wobbling a little, “you've got to get a pint and catch up. Seriously. Or I'm going to be the only one they have to carry out of here on a stretcher and that's just not a good time.”
Neville smiled faintly, unsure of how being carried out on a stretcher anywhere was the definition of a good time. “I might have one.”
“Hannah's at the bar,” Ginny said, touching his arm and smiling gently. “You might spend a few minutes to catch up.”
“Hannah Abbott, from school?” Neville winced. Of course it was Hannah Abbott from school.
Ginny just smiled, as she usually did whenever he did something socially painful. “Yes, that's her. See if you can get her to join us for a drink. She's being unusually shy and trying to comp us all our drinks. Harry hates that sort of thing. See if you can talk her out of it.”
Neville nodded, and wandered in the direction of the bar. The crowd was loud and boisterous... Harry Potter wasn't the only one celebrating his holiday. The Minister had tried to declare it a national holiday, but Harry wouldn't have any of it. It hardly mattered, since everyone treated it like it was one, anyway.
Neville steadily worked his way through the throng of people demanding drinks and patiently waited a few minutes while Hannah and a man he'd never seen before served drinks to those around him.
“All right. What can I get ye, sir?” Hannah's gentle voice shook him from staring at the grain of the wood. He'd nearly determined that it was yew - an interesting choice for a bar, but it could also be oak. He would have to study the surface for at least five more minutes to be absolutely certain... “Neville?”
Neville raised his head and stared. “Ha...Hannah.”
She'd changed since last he saw her. In the robes she wore, he could plainly see the sweet curves of her body, and his mouth went instantly dry... something he could have sworn stopped happening to him at the age of seventeen.
“Neville,” she repeated, and smiled at him cautiously. “Are you here for Harry's thing?”
“Wh - oh. Yes.” He coughed. “Harry and Ginny thought you might come over and join us when you get a chance to take a break.”
Hannah blushed. “Oh, I'd hate to impose.”
“The Potters are good at not inviting people they don't want to hang out with them,” Neville said with a grin. “I should know - I've had it both ways.”
“Well, I've got a break scheduled in about ten minutes. Maybe I'll come say hello then?” Hannah asked.
“That would be great!” Neville grinned. There was something about him that was warming the spots in his heart left cooled by his somewhat disastrous relationship with Luna.
“Oi! There are others trying to order a drink, laddie. Stop hogging the bar. Who do you think you are, Harry bleeding Potter?” an impatient voice asked him.
Neville turned and smiled grimly at the man, whom he didn't recognize, but who obviously recognized him. “No. I'm Neville bleeding Longbottom, and you can wait your turn.”
Hannah smirked, but quickly looked to the ground to hide her expression. “Did you want something to drink, Neville?”
“Can I get a pint, Hannah?” Neville asked with a smile, paid his thirteen sickles and left the bar to go sit with his friends until she came over to visit.
Ten minutes later, Hannah left the bar and joined the booth with another round for the whole group. Ron cursed and sang, Harry cursed and told jokes, Hermione and Ginny embarrassed the boys, they all indulged in a bit of a smoke, except for Neville and Hannah.
At some point in the night, Hannah had clocked out, giving up on working any more that night, but it wasn't anything her boss could begrudge her, since Harry had practically insisted on it. She ended up under Neville's arm, as they both got steadily intoxicated.
At the end of the evening, Neville extended his arm, just a bit unsteadily. “Let me walk you home.”
Hannah blushed. “All right.”
They were mostly silent - a stark contrast to the way they'd been in the pub, all the walk home, until they came to a building. Hannah led him up a set of stairs to apartment seven and stopped him. “This is my flat.”
Neville nodded, and closed his eyes against the awkwardness that threatened to overtake his entire body. He begged himself to be cool, just this once. “Hannah, I was wondering if... Well, maybe sometime, if you'd like to do this again? You know. With me. But not the others. Just... myself. By myself. You... and me, I mean.”
Hannah nodded shyly. It took Neville a minute to realize what had just happened. “So... you will?”
“Yes. I'd like that. To spend some time with you. By yourself.” Hannah appeared to find his shoe very interesting.
“Thanks,” Neville said, and though he wanted to break away, he couldn't figure out to do with his body. Obviously a hand shake was all wrong, and a hug might be construed the wrong way... and surely a kiss was out of the question. But he didn't want to leave without touching her, without reassuring himself that it was real.
He reached out, and squeezed her hand in his.
“See you soon, Neville,” Hannah whispered, and squeezed him back.
Pairing: Neville/Hannah (mentions H/G, R/Hr)
Rating: Teen. I think I mention boobs? Maybe?
Summary: It's Harry Potter's birthday, but he's not the one who really gets a gift. The way it all began for Neville and Hannah. Happy Birthday, Jules!!!
What Might, In Some Circles, Be Called The Start of Something Beautiful
The night air was heavy with humidity and the smell of London in summer. Neville Longbottom stuck his hands in his trouser pockets and contemplated the Leaky Cauldron from across the street. Only for Harry Potter would he consider leaving his Mandrakes in this weather - the heat did them no favors - for a noisy, smoky pub. Sighing, he braced himself. So loyal I should've been a Hufflepuff, he thought ruefully.
When he pushed open the doors, a bell rang merrily above him. He looked up, startled. There hadn't been any bells on the doors at the Leaky Cauldron the last time he'd been there.
“Neville!” A cheer went up from a booth across the pub, and Neville couldn't help but blush. He still wasn't used to the idea that his friends might want to see him - something Ginny still got tiffy about in her letters to him. Neville, the latest one had begun, let me introduce you to the concept of the Floo Network.
The honest truth was that he still sometimes lost himself in his plants, in the steady rhythm of life, and forgot that there were people who liked him. Luna told him that was because his grandmother had been such a horrid old bag for most of his life, but Neville rather thought that was putting too much blame on an old lady who had been trying to do her best with a rather sad lot in life.
“Hello!” he said, and oomphed in surprise when Ginny rose to her feet and tackled him in a hug. “It's nice to see you too.”
“You never leave those greenhouses,” Ginny said, and pulled away from him with an accusing finger. “I'm just going to have to go in there and spray all those plants with Muggle pesticide, don't think I won't!”
“Sorry about her,” Harry Potter said apologetically, delicately moving Ginny to the side so he could shake Neville's hand firmly. “She's had a few pints and you know how she gets...”
“Shut your mouth, Harry Potter, or you'll be sleeping on the couch for a week,” Ginny said seriously. “I've been saying all along that we need to see more of Neville! It's just... flowing out of my mouth easier, for some reason.”
“That's because you're an easy drunk. Wotcher, Neville!” Ron pushed himself out of his chair a bit unsteadily and shook Neville's hand. “Good to see you. Wouldn't be a party without you, mate. Order a pint and catch up. I'm going to win, at this rate.”
“And what contest would that be?” Hermione Granger asked, coming up behind Neville and giving him an awkward one-armed hug, as her other hand was clasped firmly around a chilled glass of wine. “The contest to see who can be the most annoying drunk?”
“That would be you, without a doubt,” Ginny said seriously. “No one else quotes Shakespeare when they're drunk. No one.”
“Isn't she brilliant?” Ron asked, beaming, and laid a sloppy kiss on Hermione's mouth. She laughed and pushed him away half-heartedly.
“Is Luna coming?” Ginny asked, settling herself in Harry's lap and gesturing for Neville to take her old place. “I tried to get ahold of her but no such luck.”
“She's in Barbados at the moment,” Neville answered, studying the limited menu as he settled himself in the chair. “Looking for some imaginary creature or the other - thumple-winged dunbacks, I believe she said. She's met a new bloke out there. He seems to be all right.”
“Oh, Neville,” Hermione said sympathetically and reached across the table from where she sat next to Ron. Neville noted that they were a bit more subtle than Harry and Ginny - Ron's hand lay gently on Hermione's thigh. “I thought you two were dating.”
“Not really, no,” Neville said with a soft smile. “We've always been good friends, but trying to be a couple would have been diasterous - I'm not sure how to handle her at the best of times.”
“That means you're free and easy then!” Ron leaned forward on the table. “Being single's got its advantages, you know.”
Hermione smacked him lightly but nodded at the general sentiment. “I certainly miss it, some days.”
Ron stuck his tongue out at her, and she nudged him in retaliation.
“Oh! I forgot to say! Happy Birthday, Harry!” Neville said, and reached into his pocket. “I didn't want to get you something you already had, and I know you and Ginny aren't much for plants and all that, so...”
He handed Harry a slim card. Harry opened it and read it, his smile growing wider as he did so. “A night in Hogsmeade on Neville Longbottom!” he exclaimed. “Thanks, mate!”
“It's the least I can do. Everytime I'm down there, Madam Rosemerta asks about you. So, I thought... why not give you and me a gift?”
“It'll be good to go back, now that they're done restoring the village,” Ginny said thoughtfully.
“It looks nice,” Neville offered, not sure of what else to say. “Doesn't look quite the same, but all of the businesses are back.”
“Slowly but surely, mate,” Ron said, nodding solemnly. “Rule on Britannia. Nothing ever gets us down. Not even ruddy Voldemort. Cheers!”
Harry nodded in agreement. “Fuck 'im. And cheers!” Ron and Harry both drained their pints.
“Neville,” Ron said, wobbling a little, “you've got to get a pint and catch up. Seriously. Or I'm going to be the only one they have to carry out of here on a stretcher and that's just not a good time.”
Neville smiled faintly, unsure of how being carried out on a stretcher anywhere was the definition of a good time. “I might have one.”
“Hannah's at the bar,” Ginny said, touching his arm and smiling gently. “You might spend a few minutes to catch up.”
“Hannah Abbott, from school?” Neville winced. Of course it was Hannah Abbott from school.
Ginny just smiled, as she usually did whenever he did something socially painful. “Yes, that's her. See if you can get her to join us for a drink. She's being unusually shy and trying to comp us all our drinks. Harry hates that sort of thing. See if you can talk her out of it.”
Neville nodded, and wandered in the direction of the bar. The crowd was loud and boisterous... Harry Potter wasn't the only one celebrating his holiday. The Minister had tried to declare it a national holiday, but Harry wouldn't have any of it. It hardly mattered, since everyone treated it like it was one, anyway.
Neville steadily worked his way through the throng of people demanding drinks and patiently waited a few minutes while Hannah and a man he'd never seen before served drinks to those around him.
“All right. What can I get ye, sir?” Hannah's gentle voice shook him from staring at the grain of the wood. He'd nearly determined that it was yew - an interesting choice for a bar, but it could also be oak. He would have to study the surface for at least five more minutes to be absolutely certain... “Neville?”
Neville raised his head and stared. “Ha...Hannah.”
She'd changed since last he saw her. In the robes she wore, he could plainly see the sweet curves of her body, and his mouth went instantly dry... something he could have sworn stopped happening to him at the age of seventeen.
“Neville,” she repeated, and smiled at him cautiously. “Are you here for Harry's thing?”
“Wh - oh. Yes.” He coughed. “Harry and Ginny thought you might come over and join us when you get a chance to take a break.”
Hannah blushed. “Oh, I'd hate to impose.”
“The Potters are good at not inviting people they don't want to hang out with them,” Neville said with a grin. “I should know - I've had it both ways.”
“Well, I've got a break scheduled in about ten minutes. Maybe I'll come say hello then?” Hannah asked.
“That would be great!” Neville grinned. There was something about him that was warming the spots in his heart left cooled by his somewhat disastrous relationship with Luna.
“Oi! There are others trying to order a drink, laddie. Stop hogging the bar. Who do you think you are, Harry bleeding Potter?” an impatient voice asked him.
Neville turned and smiled grimly at the man, whom he didn't recognize, but who obviously recognized him. “No. I'm Neville bleeding Longbottom, and you can wait your turn.”
Hannah smirked, but quickly looked to the ground to hide her expression. “Did you want something to drink, Neville?”
“Can I get a pint, Hannah?” Neville asked with a smile, paid his thirteen sickles and left the bar to go sit with his friends until she came over to visit.
Ten minutes later, Hannah left the bar and joined the booth with another round for the whole group. Ron cursed and sang, Harry cursed and told jokes, Hermione and Ginny embarrassed the boys, they all indulged in a bit of a smoke, except for Neville and Hannah.
At some point in the night, Hannah had clocked out, giving up on working any more that night, but it wasn't anything her boss could begrudge her, since Harry had practically insisted on it. She ended up under Neville's arm, as they both got steadily intoxicated.
At the end of the evening, Neville extended his arm, just a bit unsteadily. “Let me walk you home.”
Hannah blushed. “All right.”
They were mostly silent - a stark contrast to the way they'd been in the pub, all the walk home, until they came to a building. Hannah led him up a set of stairs to apartment seven and stopped him. “This is my flat.”
Neville nodded, and closed his eyes against the awkwardness that threatened to overtake his entire body. He begged himself to be cool, just this once. “Hannah, I was wondering if... Well, maybe sometime, if you'd like to do this again? You know. With me. But not the others. Just... myself. By myself. You... and me, I mean.”
Hannah nodded shyly. It took Neville a minute to realize what had just happened. “So... you will?”
“Yes. I'd like that. To spend some time with you. By yourself.” Hannah appeared to find his shoe very interesting.
“Thanks,” Neville said, and though he wanted to break away, he couldn't figure out to do with his body. Obviously a hand shake was all wrong, and a hug might be construed the wrong way... and surely a kiss was out of the question. But he didn't want to leave without touching her, without reassuring himself that it was real.
He reached out, and squeezed her hand in his.
“See you soon, Neville,” Hannah whispered, and squeezed him back.