RP: Sweet Dreams Aren't Made of This
Characters: Neville Longbottom, anyone at the Leaky
Location: Flat then the Leaky
Date: 10 October 1999
Status/Warning: Private to Public
Summary: Distiurbed by his unrestful catnap, Neville goes to have a drink and brood..
Completion: Complete
"Neville." Hearing his voice in the deeper, slightly slurred Welsh accent Rhys had, Neville turned from where he was talking to a bunch of former Gryffindors, to see Rhys coming towards him. He stood, ready to make the introductions, but instead of stopping, Rhys grabbed Neville by the face and began kissing him, more passionately than he'd done in the alley. Caught off guard, Neville's arm, swept out to gesture to the group in the aborted introduction, moved to clasp Rhys's wrist, intending to tug his hand away so Neville could back off. Instead, he slid it down Rhys's arm, then up to his shoulder, tugging him closer. They continued to snog, Neville feeling his body react in all manner of exciting and terrifying ways, before Rhys broke the kiss.
"You're mine." He whispered, letting Neville go and vanishing into thin air. Neville blinked at it, and turned to ask his friends if they saw where Rhys had gone, except their expressions stopped him dead. Ron looked thunderous, ready to pound him; Harry looked confused, like Neville had told him Dumbledore and Grindelwald were one and the same person; Hermione was nudging and hissing at Ron, tugging at Ginny's arm to get her aid, but Ginny couldn't look at Hermione or Neville, her face as sad as Neville had ever seen it; Dean and Seamus wore matching looks of disgust, while Lavender was crying, being consoled by Dennnis Creevey. Then they all began to fade except now he could hear their voices loud and clear.
"It's bloody unnatural, Hermione!"
"I thought you were different from the others. I thought I meant something to you."
"Fucking poofter. Bet you been staring at me tackle all these years, perving our arses."
"Frankly, I'm surprised no one else had come out. Statistically, its more likely that someone else at this table is gay than that Neville's the only one. Stop going on so, its not like he could help it."
"Wait, when you said mate..... you meant mate?"
Neville fell off the couch, gasping, face sweaty. He climbed back up and sat, feeling like his heart was going to burst from his chest. He moved to the bathroom, stripping down his work clothes and stepping under a hot spray. He'd not meant to fall asleep, but he'd not been sleeping well lately, and when he got off his shift at Gulliver's, he'd nodded off on the couch as he'd been drawing up a list of possible times for another Gryffindor get together. Clearly, that had been his first mistake.
The second had been talking about Rhys in a roundabout way with the other boys at WWW. He'd managed to blow it off, but it haunted him, wondering what they'd have done if they knew it was true.
Well, he'd not wait to find out. He was going out tonight, finding the first bird he met, and chatting her up. he was going to get that practice, by Merlin, and forget this whole business with Rhys.
He flooed into the Leaky around 9, hungry for a spot of dinner, and with it, some liquid courage to do the chatting. He took a spot at the bar, watching the door to see who he'd embarrass himself with this evening. At least if it was a bird, his reputation would remain intact. Still, the idea of talking to a bird, flirting and such, made him feel sick to his stomach.
Location: Flat then the Leaky
Date: 10 October 1999
Status/Warning: Private to Public
Summary: Distiurbed by his unrestful catnap, Neville goes to have a drink and brood..
Completion: Complete
"Neville." Hearing his voice in the deeper, slightly slurred Welsh accent Rhys had, Neville turned from where he was talking to a bunch of former Gryffindors, to see Rhys coming towards him. He stood, ready to make the introductions, but instead of stopping, Rhys grabbed Neville by the face and began kissing him, more passionately than he'd done in the alley. Caught off guard, Neville's arm, swept out to gesture to the group in the aborted introduction, moved to clasp Rhys's wrist, intending to tug his hand away so Neville could back off. Instead, he slid it down Rhys's arm, then up to his shoulder, tugging him closer. They continued to snog, Neville feeling his body react in all manner of exciting and terrifying ways, before Rhys broke the kiss.
"You're mine." He whispered, letting Neville go and vanishing into thin air. Neville blinked at it, and turned to ask his friends if they saw where Rhys had gone, except their expressions stopped him dead. Ron looked thunderous, ready to pound him; Harry looked confused, like Neville had told him Dumbledore and Grindelwald were one and the same person; Hermione was nudging and hissing at Ron, tugging at Ginny's arm to get her aid, but Ginny couldn't look at Hermione or Neville, her face as sad as Neville had ever seen it; Dean and Seamus wore matching looks of disgust, while Lavender was crying, being consoled by Dennnis Creevey. Then they all began to fade except now he could hear their voices loud and clear.
"It's bloody unnatural, Hermione!"
"I thought you were different from the others. I thought I meant something to you."
"Fucking poofter. Bet you been staring at me tackle all these years, perving our arses."
"Frankly, I'm surprised no one else had come out. Statistically, its more likely that someone else at this table is gay than that Neville's the only one. Stop going on so, its not like he could help it."
"Wait, when you said mate..... you meant mate?"
Neville fell off the couch, gasping, face sweaty. He climbed back up and sat, feeling like his heart was going to burst from his chest. He moved to the bathroom, stripping down his work clothes and stepping under a hot spray. He'd not meant to fall asleep, but he'd not been sleeping well lately, and when he got off his shift at Gulliver's, he'd nodded off on the couch as he'd been drawing up a list of possible times for another Gryffindor get together. Clearly, that had been his first mistake.
The second had been talking about Rhys in a roundabout way with the other boys at WWW. He'd managed to blow it off, but it haunted him, wondering what they'd have done if they knew it was true.
Well, he'd not wait to find out. He was going out tonight, finding the first bird he met, and chatting her up. he was going to get that practice, by Merlin, and forget this whole business with Rhys.
He flooed into the Leaky around 9, hungry for a spot of dinner, and with it, some liquid courage to do the chatting. He took a spot at the bar, watching the door to see who he'd embarrass himself with this evening. At least if it was a bird, his reputation would remain intact. Still, the idea of talking to a bird, flirting and such, made him feel sick to his stomach.