#Neville Longbottom angst

[mastermindmiko]

Neville Longbottom Mood board

Masterlist Neville Pinterest board

All of these pictures are from Pinterest and are not mine.

[dracowars]

Hii! If requests are open could I get a professor!neville longbottom and professor!reader?shes the potions teacher and theyre "enemies"? Always at each others throats and interuppting classes just to throw snarky remarks and the students are like "omg not again🙄"? Anyway one night a student sees him leaving her room and rumors start abt how they're dating/fucking?? And after a few days of trying to deal with a school of nosy students they "talk it out" which ends up being a make out session in the potions room and they get caught by the students who are like "plz we just wna study😭"??

Thank youuu <3

greenhouse hearts and cauldron sparks | neville longbottom

pairing: professor!neville x professor!reader

word count: 3,4k

summary: where rumours are spread about neville and y/n having a thing

a/n: somehow this was difficult for me to write & i don't even know why, maybe because it's my first for neville and i don't know yet if i got his character right (especially since he is older here). i really tried my best and i hope you enjoy it <3 feedback in any form is much appreciated!

warnings: slight angst, cursing

universe: harry potter

With a set goal in mind and pure determination, you strut through the glass door of greenhouse three and are immediately eyed by more than twenty pairs of eyes, all curious but somehow not surprised. Some of them even look like they were only waiting for this to happen. Again.

"Professor Longbottom, forgive my interruption", you apologize with a smile that does not quite reach your eyes, making your way towards him. "But I need to talk to you. Urgently."

"Welcome, Professor Y/L/N", Neville greets you, not moving from his leaning position on the table, fully concentrated on the plant pot in front of him which seems to be housing a Chinese Chomping Cabbage. Suspiciously eyeing the dangerous plant, you take a small step back. Herbology has never been your favourite subject, not when you went to Hogwarts yourself, not now, not ever.

"You burst in at just the right time! We are about to harvest the first cabbages", he explains, strongly emphasizing you interrupting his class, his eyes still fixed on the pot.

"I actually don't really care right now. All I care about is the huge plant or whatever that monstrum even is that has spread over my desk in the teacher's room", you start whispering now, not wanting the students to hear your words. But since they all still stare at the both of you, their cabbages long forgotten, you bet they could hear you either way.

"Oh, I must have mixed up the tables", Neville simply shrugs but a small smile plays around his lips as he finally turns his head to look at you. You have looked into his eyes several times before, million times even, but it hits you differently every time. His green eyes stare at you for a second too long before he clears his throat and straightens, pulling out the cabbage and putting it into a big crate. Removing his gloves, he leans his hip against the table, his big frame towering over you as you still stand there.

"You did that on purpose", you whisper, more to yourself than to anyone, but the little chuckle that escapes his mouth confirms your assumption.

"I would never do such a thing", he replies, placing the gloves on the table behind him. Scoffing, you look at him in disbelief.

How come that Neville Longbottom, the slanky, shy and nervous boy who hid behind his robes and hair from your school days suddenly became such a cunning and especially handsome professor who tests your patience every day. And most importantly, why does he always look at you like that, as if his eyes want to tell you something more, something deeper. And why, for Merlin's sake, is your heart beating faster every single time you interact.

"It would be much appreciated if you could get rid of this monster as quickly as possible before it eats someone or whatever it is that it does", you repeat, but something about the way he looks at you right now tells you that that probably won't happen any time soon.

"Of course, of course. Once I've got- No! Put that down, Henry. Excuse me for a second, sweetheart", Neville interrupts himself all of a sudden, jumping into action as he quickly runs to said student who is about to get attacked by one of the vicious plants, the nickname he called you still ringing in your ear. On his way there, he runs against a table and knocks over some empty pots. If it weren't for you stopping them mid-air with a spell, they would have shattered into a thousand pieces.

He may not look like the Neville he used to be, but he has not lost his clumsiness. Shaking your head, your gaze follows him, watching as he rescues the student from his demise and you can't help but smile a little at that. He also never lost his genuine sincerity and willingness to help.

As you are waiting for him to return, you notice several of the girls staring at you, whispering to each other as they have certainly seen the way you looked after him. Clearing your throat in an awkward manner, you stand up straight and adjust your robes.

"Alright, well, that turned out differently than expected but wasn't that fun? Never underestimate nature", Neville speaks up now, all heads turning to him. "Please finish your protocols until next week, clean your tables and then you are free to leave for the day."

What initially looks like pure chaos ensuing turns out to actually follow a clear order as the students rush around and do what he says. In a few minutes, everything is back in its place and the students rush out of the greenhouse, ready for their break. On their way out, they also say goodbye to you.

The second the last student leaves, Neville claps his hands together, rubbing them as if he still has something planned. "You know, these things only ever happen when you are around", he teases you, walking back to where you are standing to put his bag on the table and gather his things.

"Well, I'm glad it wasn't me who got attacked by one of your experiments for once", you counter, having lost count of the times you had unpleasant encounters with his plants.

"That is just because they can sense your fear, sweetheart", he smiles while packing up his stuff, making sure everything is neatly placed inside his bag.

"I'm not scared of them", you scoff, ignoring what he called you and what it does to you once more, and you cross your arms in front of your chest as you lean your hip against the table he is still standing at. "They just make me feel uncomfortable and I don't like them. Your experiments certainly didn't make me like them any more, in case you forgot."

"How could I ever forget that", Neville laughs. He does not giggle or even try to hold back his amusement - he just straight up laughs at you as the memories find their way back to him. Huffing out an exasperated breath, you softly shove him to the side which only causes him to laugh even more.

"You are so annoying, do you know that? I can't believe I have to deal with this every day", you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"Oh, come on. Don't be like that. You would be bored to death without me", he smiles at you, genuine, and gently pushes his shoulder against yours, coming even closer. He looks at you, the way he always looks at you, and even though you would never admit it, he is right. It would be boring without him.

His eyes are locked with yours, at least until they drift down for a split second, looking at your lips, but it was so fast you are not even sure it actually happened. One of his hands now gently touches your arm and your insides twist.

Until the door to the greenhouse suddenly bursts open and a student comes in. Jumping in surprise, you both put as much distance between the two of you as possible in these few seconds, but the way she stops in the doorway as if she had just interrupted something speaks volumes.

"Uhm- I'm sorry, Professor. Professors. I-"

"Chloe, what are you doing here?", Neville asks her kindly, no signs of nervousness, but out of the corner of your eye you can indeed see how he plays with his fingers.

"I uhm.. forgot my book", she says awkwardly but makes no attempt to move, her gaze switching between the two of you.

"Right", Neville smiles at her, obviously trying to make it less uncomfortable. "Then go get it?"

At his words, she is seemingly brought back to life and quickly runs to one of the tables, grabs her book and rushes out of the greenhouse with lightning speed. Watching her leave, Neville's eyebrows furrow. "What was that about?"

Sighing, you lean back against the table, this time, however, with a lot of distance between your bodies.

"Dear Merlin, we will never hear the end of this now", you say, rubbing your fingers against your temple as you try to wrap your head around what just happened.

"Of what?", Neville asks, curious and seemingly oblivious.

"Of us having a thing."

"What?", he lets out in shock, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you are joking. Oh how much you wish you were.

"Yeah."

"Wh-What do you mean?"

"Don't tell me you haven't heard about it", you answer, turning your body to directly look at him now.

"I honestly don't know what you are talking about."

"I can't believe this", you let out a humourless chuckle before continuing. "The students are talking about us, Neville. Have been all the time."

"And?"

"And they think we fuck", you blurt out and watch as the realization hits him.

"Oh", is all he says to that, his eyes unfocusing and his cheeks turning a slight shade of pink.

"Yeah. 'Oh'. And now we fueled the rumours even more, we have given them even more reason to believe them", you explain, trying your best to not sound too desperate.

When you first heard these rumours, you had to laugh. Neville and you? Never. But over time, you realized where these assumptions came from and you could actually see how someone could possibly come to this conclusion. But there is nothing between you. Right?

"But nothing happened", Neville agrees with your thoughts, looking at you with those beautiful eyes of his. A strand of hair has come loose and hangs over his forehead and you would like nothing more than to gently remove it from his face.

"No. It didn't", you whisper, supporting his statement even though you both know exactly what almost happened. Neville gives you a sympathetic smile before picking up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder.

"Anyway, I believe there is a plant I need to take care of", Neville digresses from the topic and even though you welcome not having to talk about this any longer, your heart feels a bit heavier than before. "Also, did you make the potion I asked you for?"

"Of course", you say as you follow him outside, noticing how his hand hovers over the small of your back as he leads you through the door.

════════════

"Professor?", one of your female students asks for you, sitting in front of her and her groups bubbling cauldron. Quickly, you get up from your seat at the front of the classroom and walk to her, smiling as you are thrilled to help with whatever is going on. You have been these students' Potions teacher since first year and now that they have reached seventh year, you have formed an even stronger bond with them.

"Yes? What can I help you with?", you ask once you reach them, leaning over them to take a look inside the cauldron which is exuding a sugary sweet scent. So far, they seem to have done everything right.

"Do you have a husband? Or kids?", she puts the question out there like it is nothing, the other girls at her table looking at you attentively.

"First of all, that is not a question you ask", you remind her and she only shrugs apologetically, making you feel like she actually does not feel sorry at all. "And to truthfully answer your question: No, I have not."

Apparently, your answer triggers something in them, because suddenly the whispering starts again and they look as if they can hardly sit still due to being incredibly excited about something.

"We asked Professor Longbottom the same question this morning", she continues now, suppressing a giggle. "And he gave us the same answer, so we thought that you two would make a good match."

"Oh girls, please", you sigh, trying to suppress a laugh at their endearing faces. "You definitely shouldn't worry about your teacher's relationship status and focus on your grades and upcoming exams instead."

"But Ms. Y/L/N! You would be so cute together!", they all gush, telling you about all the times they have seen you two, how they can clearly tell that 'there is something more going on'. You know you should tell them to continue their task but you just can't stop listening to them.

"When we asked Professor Longbottom, he told us that he thinks you are a wonderful colleague and also quite attractive", one of the girls chimes in, batting her eyelashes at you.

"He certainly did not say that", you retort, shaking your head with a smile at their determination.

"But he did!", they all say in unison, repeating to you all the words he supposedly said about you.

════════════

"Professor? Do you have a moment?"

"Of course. How can I help you?", Neville smiles at the group of girls in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. He has just finished his last lesson for the day and was on his way to the Great Hall for dinner now if it was not for these students catching him in the middle of a hallway.

"Remember how we asked you about Ms. Y/L/N this morning?", one of the girls says, a smile on her face that he can't quite pinpoint.

"I do", Neville answers, not adding that their conversation had followed him throughout the whole day.

"Well, we just had Potions with her and we asked her about you, too", another student says, a sign of pride in her voice. "Do you want to know what she said?"

"Do I have a choice?", he says, feeling a bit cornered by the four girls in front of him. He was set on eating and then going to his quarters in the Faculty Tower to get some well-deserved sleep. Apparently that was not happening any time soon.

"She told us that you are her favourite colleague and that she also finds you kind of handsome, even though she told us not to tell you."

At that, Neville needs a few seconds and swallows hard. He does not know what he should be more uncomfortable with: the fact that these students are interfering in his private life or the thought that you actually may have said those words. What are the chances that you did?

"That is..", Neville starts, no idea how to best solve this situation. "Certainly very nice of her to say. Thank you for telling me, but I'm afraid we must head to the Great Hall now as dinner will be served soon."

He does not even wait for them to answer and walks straight past them, a blush on his cheeks as their giggling follows him to the end of the hallway. He sighs, their words echoing through his mind as he turns another corner and suddenly bumps into someone.

With wide eyes, he realizes that the person he just almost pushed to the ground is none other than you. His hands are still tightly gripping your upper arms, a measure he took to prevent you from falling, as he stares at you.

"What is wrong with you?! You almost gave me a heart attack", you lecture him, your frozen body slowly coming back to life. Only now do you notice that Neville is still staring at you as if you weren't from this world and the pressure he is exerting on your arms is somehow getting stronger.

"Neville? Hello? Anyone there?", you ask slowly, snapping a finger in front of his face. That seems to bring him out of his trance because he blinks several times in a row and clears his throat awkwardly, letting go of you but not before smoothing down the sleeves of your cloak.

"Sorry", he mumbles, looking to the ground and grabbing the strap of his bag as if it were an anchor to help him from drowning.

"Are you alright?", you ask, a bit worried now at his unusual behaviour. When you hear several voices coming from the hallway, he suddenly takes your hand in his gently and maneuvers you both into the nearest empty classroom, closing the door silently.

"What is-"

"I didn't want them to see us together", he tells you before you can ask and your heart drops.

"Oh."

The sound comes out a lot more sad than you wanted and Neville notices it as well, shooting his head up to look at you. It does not take him long to realize what he said is the reason for it.

"N-No, no. That- That was not what I meant", he immediately starts explaining. "I just- These girls kept asking me questions about you the whole day and since our.. the situation this morning I thought it would be best to not fuel the rumours even more. Like you said."

Switching between his eyes, you don't even know what to say to that. Because you indeed do not want them to spread anymore rumours about you. On the other hand, you can't deny the emotions you feel, especially right now, with one of his hands still holding yours.

"Did you tell them that I'm a wonderful colleague and that I'm attractive?", you hear yourself ask. You have no idea where that came from all of a sudden but somehow you do not even feel sorry for asking. The girls love gossiping and spreading rumours, but a tiny part in your heart still hopes that they did not just make all of it up.

You just need to know.

"What? No", Neville immediately responds with so much vehemence that you take a step back. Again, he realizes a bit too late what he said and you feel your heart crack. You should have been prepared for this, you asked for this, and yet it painfully stings.

"I mean", he tries again, getting ahold of both of your hands now, making you look up at him. "I didn't say those exact words. I- Well, I think they just saw the way I looked at you and probably realized something sooner than I did."

"Neville, you really don't need to justify yourself", you say, not wanting to hear any more to protect yourself but also not moving to leave.

"I'm not, Y/N. What I would have liked to tell them is that you are the most wonderful person I have ever met. You are smart, sweet, sometimes snarky, loyal, helpful and have those little quirks that drive me crazy. The way you are engrossed in your notes and keep pushing the strand of hair out of your face and chew on your lower lip. And I love the way you interact with the students. You can tell how much they adore you and that they see you as their role model", Neville tells you with so much adoration and determination that you think you must be dreaming.

"I love the daily teasing, the banter whenever you get upset about my plants but then help me with the potions I need anyway. And yes, I think you are absolutely beautiful", he continues, mending the crack in your heart. "But I couldn't possibly tell the students all that."

Lowering his head after exposing himself like that to you, showing vulnerability, you are at a loss for words. He said all the things you always wanted to hear from him but never even dreamt about them ever becoming true. Your silence makes him nervous, he shifts his weight from one leg to the other and breathes in deeply.

"They would certainly have loved that", you giggle then, placing your fingers under his chin to make him look up at you. When your eyes meet, he can see yours sparkling and shimmering like they never did before. "And I love you."

With that, you pull him in for a kiss. Neville is too perplexed for a few seconds to do anything, but then he relaxes into the kiss, his hand finding its way to the back of your head to pull you even closer. You relish in the feeling, of how your lips work against each other, of how your hands are pressed to his chest between your bodies.

You forget where you are and what could happen if someone came in any second, but you simply do not care. And Neville does not either as he softly pushes you against the desk in front of the classroom, smiling into the kiss as he says: "Let's spread more rumours then."

[boxofbadaddiction]

The Price of Perception

Neville Longbottom x Slytherin!Reader

Warnings: Bullying mention. Anxiety. Angsty.

Prompt: #22. With a slytherin reader who likes him and tries to be good at herbology but she really struggles with it? 

“Why don’t you stop worrying about trying to sound smart all the time, and just be yourself”.

Summary: Neville has a strained relationship with Slytherins, which has led to him distancing himself from all students sporting Green ties. So, what is he to do when he suddenly finds himself paired to one for the day?

A/N: This doesn't really reflect the prompt well, and I've never written for Neville before.

Neville’s stomach churned as he made his way down the dimly lit corridors, his fingers gripping the strap of his book bag so tightly his knuckles had gone white. He hated Potions. He hated that he couldn’t seem to get it right no matter how hard he tried. But most of all, he hated that he had been assigned a tutor.

A Slytherin tutor, of all people.

He had heard stories about Y/n. She was known by all. Powerful, quick-witted, popular, and far too clever for her own good. Most of her housemates carried an air of superiority, typical for that of a Slytherin, she did not. She was humble, and kind. 

For Neville, although she didn’t seem cruel like the others, it didn’t stop the nervous pit from forming in his stomach at the thought of working with her.

He always tried his hardest to stay clear of the Slytherin students. Now, thanks to his rotten luck, Snape had paired him with one. On second thought, maybe it wasn't his luck... maybe it was just Snape delighting in torturing him yet again.

His mind raced with anxieties as he neared the potions lab.

What if she laughed at him? What if she got frustrated and gave up? What if she told the others how hopeless he was? What if she sabotaged him rather than help? What if she was as ruthlessly cruel to him like so many others!

By the time he reached the dungeon classroom, his palms were sweaty, and his heart was hammering in his chest. He took a deep breath before pushing open the heavy wooden door. Stepping inside to find Y/n, already alone at a wooden desk amidst their classmates, she idly tapped her quill against her parchment as she waited for him.

The flickering candlelight of the dungeon classroom cast long shadows across the stone walls, the air thick with the scent of crushed herbs and bubbling cauldrons. "This is something straight out of my nightmares!" Neville whined, internally.

More than halfway through the class, Y/n sat, watching Neville intently. Not bothered by the due assignment, her mind was elsewhere. She had finished her own potion and accompanying essay days ago, leaving her with little to do but observe. Her fingertips mimicked the stirring motions of the potion as he worked, lazily tracing circles on the desk as she watched her partner struggle through his latest attempt at the simple potion.

Nev - because she had long since abandoned calling him by his full name, despite his protests - stood over his cauldron. His brow scrunched in deep concentration. His hands trembled slightly as he measured out the required fluxweed, his lips moving as he muttered the instructions under his breath. He scribbled down different observations for his essay: How the potion’s consistency wavered with each stir, the slight change in colour that might indicate a mistake, the way the ingredients interacted when added too quickly. His quill scratched hurriedly against the parchment. Every few seconds, his brow furrowed deeper, frustration mounting as he crossed out yet another sentence, unsatisfied with his own words. The pile of discarded parchment beside him grew steadily, a testament to his belief that nothing he wrote was ever good enough. The stress was written all over his face, his shoulders tense as if the weight of the entire subject rested solely on them.

Y/n knew he tried too hard. He overthought every single step, second-guessed every motion, convinced that no matter what he did, he would still fail. It was heartbreaking to see how little faith he had in himself.

"Nev, why don't you stop worrying about trying to sound smart and just be yourself?" she said gently, leaning closer so her words wouldn't carry to the other students. She rested her hand softly atop his that was resting on the counter. "You're better at this than you think. You just... need to trust yourself."

His cheeks turned a shade of pink she found endearing, and he ducked his head and snatched away his hand, pretending to be focused on stirring his cauldron. "I- I'm not trying to sound smart!" he muttered, though the way he glanced at her from under his lashes said otherwise.

She smiled, shaking her head. "You don’t have to impress anyone, Nev. Least of all me, I already think you're brilliant."

He dropped the stirring rod, attracting attention from their classmates at the harsh clattering noise that echoed off the walls as it hit the floor. Hurriedly and awkwardly, he snatched the implement from the ground, slapping it on the table.

The gathered bearing eyes turned back to their own projects, a chorus of his name echoing in a whisper throughout the room, disapproval evident in its tone. Sensing the judgment, his anxiety spiked again. Upset with himself, he released a heavy sigh before haphazardly tossing the stirrer back into the pot.

Only, in his upset, he'd mistakenly grabbed his wand from the desk instead.

Y/n bit back a laugh as he scrambled to fish it out, hands fumbling in his rush. "I-uh... thanks," he mumbled, avoiding her gaze entirely now.

If only he knew how much she meant it.

Truth be told, Y/n harboured a secret crush on him. One she kept tucked away behind stolen glances and gentle reassurances.

It was completely out of her control! The way she found him kind, and sweet, and adorably funny in ways he probably didn’t even realise. When he wasn’t drowning in self-doubt, and he spoke about things he was adamantly passionate about with such great confidence, like Herbology, she saw just how brilliant he truly was, too. There was a warmth to him, an earnestness that set him apart.

He never sought to impress for the sake of it like many in Slytherin house did. Never wore arrogance like a badge of honour. Instead, he simply wanted to be enough. Little did he know, in her eyes, he already was.

"If only he could see himself... the way I do." Y/n pondered.

The bell rang, and Neville couldn't get out of there fast enough. He practically sprinted out the door before anyone else, desperate to escape.

At lunch in the Great Hall, Y/n was caught in her thoughts. The loud chattering of the gathered students drowned out her friends’ conversation nearby- not that she was particularly interested in their discussion.

Her mind was still on Potions, replaying every moment, every interaction she’d had with Nev. It had been the first time she had truly spoken to him. Usually, the second he saw any Slytherin, he ran the opposite direction. Which, you can imagine, made it difficult to strike up ANY kind of relationship with him, let alone a romantic one at that.

She couldn’t exactly blame him. Slytherins didn’t have the best reputation, and many in her house had done little to prove otherwise. He likely thought she was no different. They never shared more than glances in the corridors. But today was different. Today, she had spoken to him, encouraged him, seen the way his cheeks flushed under praise he clearly didn’t know how to handle. And she wanted more of that. She wanted to break through whatever wall he had built between himself and her house.

Resting her chin on her elbow, she stared down at her barely touched meal, lost in contemplation. How could she spend more time with him? How could she get him to see she wasn’t like the others!

A sudden shove to her elbow from a friend snapped her back to reality. "Come on," Melanie urged through a mouthful of bread roll, "it’s time for Herbology." So fixed on her lovestruck problems, she had completely missed the bell chime, signalling next period.

Reluctantly, she stood between the table and bench seat. She wasn't in the mood to tame Tentacula Vines. They're so snappy!

Then it hit her.

Herbology! Neville's favourite subject. An idea sparked in her mind, and suddenly, she was very enthused to get to class. Grinning widely, she snatched her satchel from beneath the table and all but launched over the bench into a jog for the greenhouses. 

The humid air clung to Y/n's skin as she stepped into the hothouse, thick with the scent of damp earth and fresh foliage. The soft rustling of leaves filled the space, mingling with the occasional snap of a wayward vine and the murmured discussions of students tending to their plants. She scanned the room in search of her crush. Quickly spotting him busy at work with his own plants, at the opposite end of the crowded class. Y/n's friends distracted her before she had time to be too disappointed, yanking her over to where their own vines awaited.

Y/n observed her own. It was gorgeous! Incredibly healthy, and incredibly feisty. Snapping at her prodding instruments with great ferocity. 'Professor Sprout is never going to believe I need help in class if I show her this!' she pouted.

Suddenly, her attention was brought to a small round of laughter from her friends beside her. Melanie's plant was dead as disco- its leaves drooped pathetically, the once vibrant green now a dull, sickly yellow. The brittle stems crackled as she prodded them, and an unmistakable scent of decay wafted up, wrinkling noses nearby. The group took pleasure in teasing her for her failed assignment. Melanie shrugged them off with an exaggerated eye roll and a witty comment back before throwing it in the trash.

A subtle smirk appeared on Y/n's face. Quietly, she placed her plant back on the shelf, carefully pushing the pot to the back of the shelf and hiding her name. She casually fished the dead thing from the trash before anyone could notice, replacing Melanie’s name with her own. "This will do nicely," she thought to herself. 

Y/n approached Professor Sprout, holding the remains of her friend’s plant. Mrs. Sprout was engrossed in the root system of some exotic plant she'd purchased 'for education purposes'.

She gave two taps on her teachers' shoulder, "Excuse me, Professor, I’m really worried about this," she confided, her voice laced with concern. "I think I might need extra help... I don’t want to fail."

Professor Sprout started to reply before she was faced with Y/n's supposed assessment. "That's preposterous, dear girl, you've never failed a class a day in your-" A mighty gasp tore from the professor's throat, cutting off her words as she took in the sight of the miserable plant in her student's hands. "Oh my-"

Professor Sprout gave her an encouraging smile. "Well, lucky for you, I know just the person to help. Longbottom!" she sang. Neville, who had been carefully pruning a plant, stiffened at the sound of his name. "You'll be tutoring Y/n in Herbology next break," Sprout announced cheerfully. "I expect you will do best to stop her murdering any more plants" she half-joked.

Neville's attention turned to Y/n, who gave a small smile and wave to him across the greenhouse. Neville looked as though he’d rather be anywhere else on break.

"Great". he thought. Now he had to tutor her. Guess it wasn't Snape earlier... he really did have that terrible luck.

The greenhouse was quieter now, with only the gentle rustling of leaves and the soft, distant chatter of students passing the greenhouse outside. The humid air still thick with the scent of damp earth, and the occasional sharp tang of crushed stems. Golden afternoon light streamed through the glass panels, casting dappled shadows across the wooden workbenches. At which the pair were huddled.

Neville swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably as he glanced at Y/n who watched him sweetly. The idea of tutoring anyone, let alone her, made his stomach twist. It wasn’t that she’d been anything but polite, but she was still... well, her. A Slytherin. The relentless bullying he’d endured from Slytherins over the years had left its mark. Their sneering laughter and cutting remarks echoing in his memory. He could still recall the way they’d tripped him in corridors, mocked his clumsy spellwork, and made him the butt of cruel jokes. Though, he didn't have to try hard to recall those instances as many had happened recently. It was hard to shake the instinct to brace himself for ridicule, even when Y/n had done nothing to deserve his wariness.

He swallowed thickly at the sensation of his throat drying. His palms felt clammy, and he resisted the urge to wipe them on his robes. “Um… so, the key is to move slowly,” he began, his voice wavering slightly. He cleared his throat, trying again. “If you act too suddenly, they-”

Neville and Y/n stood together, surrounded by tentacular plants that lazily curled and twisted in response to their movements. He was explaining the best way to handle the vines without provoking them when one suddenly snapped towards Y/n’s wrist. Instinctively, Neville reached out, his fingers brushing hers as he gently guided her hand away.

Her breath hitched, her heart thudding in her chest. "You really do know what you're doing," she murmured, watching him with quiet admiration.

His ears turned pink, mind catching up with body, he promptly dropped - if not threw - her hands from his. Regardless, Y/n smiled, tucking this moment away in her memory. "It's just... practice," he mumbled. It was strange, he thought. How easy it was for him to touch her though he told himself he should know better.

As time went on, Y/n grew more confident in her 'lesson' with Professor Longbottom. She held back a smile at the title when it had come to mind. Neville, however, still had his walls up, and she wondered why. She had never done anything to make him dislike her.

She perched herself on one of the workbenches as Neville busied himself with another plant, meticulously inspecting its leaves while she worked on making mindless conversation. He answered her questions, short and to the point, but never asked any of his own. She could see the tension in the way he moved, the way he refused to look at her for too long, as if expecting something... though she couldn't figure out what.

"You always seem so at home in here," she commented, watching as he carefully trimmed away a dead leaf. "Like you belong among the plants more than anywhere else."

Neville hesitated, his fingers stilling for a moment before he cleared his throat. "Plants don’t judge you," he muttered, voice quiet but firm. Y/n tilted her head, curious but careful. "Neither do I, you know." Neville glanced at her then, just for a second, before returning his focus to the plant in front of him. He didn’t reply, but something in the air shifted like the first rumble of a storm.

She frowned, leaning forward slightly, unwilling to let the silence settle. "You know, I don’t get it," she said, watching him closely. "I’ve been nothing but nice to you, and yet you barely look at me. Did I do something to upset you?" her question was sincere. Neville tensed, his grip tightening on the shears in his hand. "No." "Then what is it?" she pressed, frustration seeping into her voice. "You talk to everyone else just fine, but the second I try to have a conversation, you shut down".

Neville took a deep breath then exhaled sharply, setting the shears down with more force than necessary. He finally turned to her, eyes shadowed with something unreadable. "Why do you want me to want to talk to you?" he asked, the words clipped, defensive.

Y/n blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"You keep trying," he said, shaking his head. "Why? Why does it matter to you if I talk to you or not?" Her mouth opened, but no answer came. Because I like you she wished to answer. Because she wanted to know him beyond the cautious glances and quiet brilliance. But how could she say that? Instead, she crossed her arms, feigning nonchalance. "Because I think you're worth talking to."

Neville scoffed, looking away. "You don’t even know me." "Then let me." The tension in the room crackled, the storm between them building. Y/n studied him carefully, waiting for a response, but all he did was press his lips together, his shoulders taut with unease.

Tilting her head as if challenging him, she continued, "You keep pushing me away, but I don’t think it's because you actually dislike me. I think you're scared." He flinched, grip tightening around the shears. "I’m not scared." "Then prove it." A tense silence settled between them, thick with unspoken words. The plants rustling even seemed to quieten, as if eavesdropping on the pair.

"Why are you even here?" Neville stated rather contemptuously. "You don't need a tutor." Y/n scoffed. "Did you not see my plant?" she lied, gesturing lamely to the depressing pot sat beside Nev's lush and thriving collection. "I know it's not yours. Yours needs repotting but there's nothing wrong with it." Y/n began to speak again, another lie on the tip of her tongue, when suddenly Neville pulled her very much alive and healthy tentacula from the shelf behind him and placed it in front of them. The girl released a breathy chuckle, "That's not –" he turned the pot so her name clearly faced her. '...mine'.

"FINE," she sighed with exaggeration. "I don't need tutoring." Neville watched her, waiting. "I lied because... I lied because I like you. And I needed an excuse to spend more time with you." The silence was deafening. Neither spoke, just stared at one another. Y/n gave Nev a look as if to say 'Well? Are you going to say something?' "No," Neville said simply. 

"No... no??" What did he mean ‘no’? She had just told him the truth!

Neville’s stomach twisted, his heartbeat thudding in his ears. She was lying. This was some kind of elaborate Slytherin joke, wasn’t it? Get the awkward, fumbling Gryffindor to believe a pretty girl actually liked him, only to pull the rug out from under him the moment he let his guard down. That’s what they did- twisted the knife when you least expected it. She had to be lying and this time he wasn't going to fall for it! He began to pack his things.

Y/n could feel the panic rise as Neville started packing his things without a word. He wasn’t even looking at her. Desperation clawed at her throat, but she refused to let it show. Instead, she pushed off the workbench and stepped into his path.

"That’s it?" she asked, arms crossed but voice softer than she intended. "You’re just going to leave?" Neville barely paused, shoving his notebook into his bag. "Yeah." Y/n let out a sharp breath, shaking her head. "You don’t even care, do you?" Her voice wasn’t as steady as she wanted it to be. "I just told you the truth, and you’re acting like it’s nothing." Neville clenched his jaw, gripping the strap of his bag so hard his knuckles turned white. "I just don’t believe you," he admitted, still refusing to meet her gaze. Y/n's fingers twitched at her sides. For a moment, she almost reached for him- almost grabbed his sleeve, almost pleaded for him to stay. But the fear of rejection burned hot in her chest. She smothered it before it could take hold. Instead, she straightened her shoulders and forced a scoff. 

"I don’t get you, Longbottom," she muttered, voice wavering despite her best efforts. "I put myself out there, and you won’t even give me the courtesy of a proper response." Neville hesitated for a moment, but then, he turned and prepared to walk out of the greenhouse and leave Y/n standing there. 

Her chest was tight with something she couldn’t quite name.

A moment passed and Y/n’s frustration surged, white-hot and uncontrollable. Before she could think the better of it, she lunged forward, her hand clamping down on his shoulder. He barely had time to react before she yanked him back around to face her, eyes burning with a mix of hurt and fury.

"You're not walking away from this," she snapped, voice sharp, though something fragile lingered beneath it. "Not without giving me a real answer." Neville stumbled back a step, eyes wide with shock before narrowing with something more guarded. His jaw tightened, and he swallowed hard. “What do you want me to say?” he shot back, voice rougher than he intended. “That I believe you? That this isn’t some elaborate joke at my expense?” His breath came unevenly as he shook his head. “Because I can’t.”

"A joke?" Y/n repeated, incredulity flashing across her face. "You think I would go through all this - chasing you down, putting myself out there, just to humiliate you?" Her voice wavered, equal parts hurt and disbelief. "Do you really think so little of me?"

Again, Neville remained silent. Y/n took that as her confirmation.

"Wow... to think, I really thought maybe we could -" ‘date’ she thought. But caught herself. "- be friends."

"Friends?" he parroted. With that... the storm that had been looming thundered to life.

"Friends?!" Neville repeated rather indignantly. "You’re a Slytherin!" he snapped, louder than he intended. The words burst from him, sharp and unfiltered, his breathing uneven as he finally looked at her properly.

Y/n blinked, taken aback by the sudden outburst. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Neville exhaled harshly, dragging a hand through his hair. "It has everything to do with it! Do you have any idea what it’s been like for me? The years of getting hexed in corridors, having my things stolen, tripped, laughed at by your housemates? And now suddenly I’m just supposed to believe you’re different?" He shook his head, jaw clenched. "I’m sorry, but I can’t. I won’t."

Silence fell between them, heavier than before. Y/n opened her mouth to speak but found she had no words. For the first time, she saw it - really saw it. The weight he carried, the scars left behind by years of torment. And worse, she realised, he wasn’t wrong to be wary.

The greenhouse was bright and warm, but suddenly, she felt cold.

[btsbabe7]

November Prompt 21: Crisp Air

Words: 905 | Pairing: Neville Longbottom x reader

In the distance, you can make out Neville’s frame hunched on a bench in front of the main greenhouse. Thick brown vines trailing across the giant frosted windows hug the structure behind him and the morning horizon peeks just beyond it. The view is breathtaking, but you can’t bring yourself to stop staring at him.

Your close footsteps draw his attention from the book in his hands and up towards you. His thick brown hair is blowing in the soft morning winds and he shoves his book away, immediately coming off the bench to greet you with a warm smile. His gloved hands rest on your cheeks and he leans down to plant a soft kiss on your lips, warming you more than you’d been with your hands shoved inside your coat pockets on the walk over. When he pulls away, his ocean blue eyes gaze into yours and you get lost in them until the crisp morning air rushes over the both of you. The moment you shiver against him, he reaches into his bag for the extra greenhouse keys he’d managed to get from Professor Sprout at the beginning of the year.

“Next class isn’t due til noon, so we have plenty of time to study,” he grunts while pushing the heavy door open with his shoulder. With a sigh, he turns back toward you, following your lead after you step inside. Shortly after, he locks the door from the inside. “But I don’t understand why you want to study dittany, we’re far more advanced than that.”

You take in the warmth of the greenhouse. All the sunlight that seems to have disappeared over the week has been absorbed inside the frosted glass walls. Everywhere you turn there’s plant pots, soil and fertilizer bags or some green herb growing lushly. It makes you smile, makes you happy to be able to witness life in this form when everything outside of here is withering away and growing colder with winter fast approaching.

You peel your coat off, then your gloves and scarf and earmuffs and toss them on the only empty table you can find before turning to see your boyfriend’s look of confusion.

“Come on, Nev,” you purr softly. “Warm me up a bit?”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip the moment he slips out of his coat and drops everything on the ground before scurrying to you. Neville steps in front of you, allowing his fingertips to curl against the hairs at the nape of your neck before pulling you into an open-mouthed kiss.

He’s gotten loads more attention now due to his changing looks, but you’ve had the real luxury of watching him grow older over the years. His puffy cheeks were the first to go, eventually rounding out into a sculpted, chiseled jawline and soon after, his body had done the same, leaving him with nothing but pure muscle that threatened to tear through the white button up he’d failed to replace. And though he had many physical changes, his kindness and courage and care for you always remained, and that’s what you love most.

You hop on top of the table, shaking a few pots in the neighboring potting tables which gains a laugh from the both of you. And once you’ve steadied yourself, you glide your hands over his, which had dropped to your waist during your kiss. Then, you trail up his wrists and slowly over his biceps until you reach his shoulder blades. You work your fingers tenderly into the knots that always form there and he grunts loudly in relief.

“You’re doing it again, aren’t you?” You moan. “Carrying all the plant pots for the first years?”

He bows his head in shame, knowing that he told you he’d stop two weeks ago.

“You know how heavy those pots can get, Y/n, and they’re so small. It reminds me of us seven years ago,” he admits.

“Nev, you promised. It’s admirable, truly, but you’re neglecting your own body.”

“I can handle it,” he whispers and leans in closer, looking you straight in the eyes with a smirk. “Besides, I have you to rub out all the kinks and knots.”

You scoff softly before giggling against his touch and pulling him closer. He rests his head against your shoulder, his breath steadying against the goosebumps that have prickled across your skin.

“Y/n?” He breathes.

“Mhm?”

“I want you to stay with me over the break,” he answers, pulling back to see the clear excitement and nervousness on your face.

In all the years of dating, he’d never asked, and during the times you’d begged him, he always said he didn’t want to intrude on you and your time with your family; though, he didn’t even have his own anymore.

“Yes. Yes! Of course I’ll come, Nev,” you exclaim and rest your hands against his collarbones.

“Y/n,” he says again and you gaze up into his eyes once more. “I’m absolutely head over heels in love with you.”

You blush hard as he brushes your tears away and pulls your lips back against his. In that kiss, you both make a silent vow to never abandon each other. And that vow, in a world where anything can be frigid and crisp on the outside, having the ability to lean on each other for warmth whenever you may need it feels absolutely amazing, just as love should.

Please be sure to check out my other latest fics:

⚡︎ November Prompt Challenge (days 1-30)

⚡︎ For You Always - reader x Snape

~ Navi: masterlist (all fandoms) & (bts imagines/drabbles)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction, but please don’t copy! Written purely for fun :) Please only repost to other socials w/my permission and credit! Reblogging w/credit is fine. Thank you! ♡

[claywriting]

I can’t always be there to save you

As the protagonst is heading back to the Gryffindor common room after spending her day in the library, she hears something not so strange during the year, the Cruciatus curse being used on a student, so she decides to do the stupidest thing that passes her mind, and take the side of the fellow student, challeging the Carrows.

"The corridors were cold in that October night, and she was wandering in them with a caution that was new to the students, running almost to the common room before the curfew start, to finish there her study session. Since the Carrow had taken the school under their wings everything has changed, and not for good. The corporal punishment that for so long was banned from the school has returned. The wandering was almost completed, but screams captured her attention. Cautiously she approached; the screams sounded like the ones of a wounded beast, the kind only the cruciatus hex can force a people to make. And she wasn't wrong; reversed on the side, on the cold floor a student was twisting himself unleashing those horrible screams"

I'm a non english writer so if yuo have any tips or comment I'll gladly appiciates.

thank you all

Part one

The corridors were cold in that October night, and she was wandering in them with a caution that was new to the students, running almost to the common room before the curfew start, to finish there her study session. Since the Carrow had taken the school under their wings everything has changed, and not for good. The corporal punishment that for so long was banned from the school has returned stronger than before, and the climate in the, once, secure corridors was no more the one that can be perceived in a home, but the one that she was expecting to feel in a haunted mansion.

The wandering was almost completed, she was not far from the room of requirement, and she knew that shelter there was a good option, but screams from a corridor not far captured her attention. Cautiously she approached the source of the sound, with a mixture of curiosity and fear; the screams sounded like the ones of a wounded beast, the kind of screams only the cruciatus hex can force a people to make. And in facts her guts weren’t wrong; reversed on the side, on the cold floor a student was twisting himself unleashing those horrible screams. When the men, the death eather let the malediction end she saw with horror the face of the boy on the ground. Neville, was a fellow Gryffindor, a year older than her, that she remembers during the years, but she has started to be his friend from the fourth year, when Ginny, that damn girl, pulled her in the DA. She remembered him to be a very timid guy, but in the last two year he had grew very tall and… something had changed in him. She inhaled sharply, and when the scum lifted the wand to cast another hex on the poor boy her vision became red, in a fraction of second her voice hecoed in the hall, "Depulso" she screamed, sending the man against the wall behind him. "Levicorpus" added with emphasis, with a rage she can’t explain, "Descendo!" Led the body of the, by now, unconscious man to slam into the ground. There she stood, the breath fast almost as she had run until there, slowing return to a normal peace; this time give the boy, Neville, the time to get up from the ground and coming near to her, as he was about to thanks her a muffled scream exit her mouth.

“I’m totally fucked!” she whispered to herself. “For merlin’s shorts, I’m so fucked.” The redness of the anger leaving her face, as she became as white as a ghost.

There they stood, in silence, unsure of what to do, until some of the, many, painting started screaming.

“Run, for the love of God, kids, run before someone finds you here.”

The boy, Neville, had a rush in his limbs, and as fast as the wounds allow him, gasped the wrist of the girl in front of him and flew in the direction of the room of the requirement. In silence they run, shaking softly and, until the silhouette of the door appears in front of them, they didn’t allow themselves to take a sigh of relief. Once they’re inside of the room there is a moment or two of utterly terrified silence, before she unleashes another muffled scream of terror, crouching on the ground with her hands on the eyes. There she stood for many seconds, the breath irregular, trying to calm herself, not wanting to start crying in front of the poor, easy to embarrass, boy. The silence, filled only with the sound of the shaky breathing was almost overwhelming, but when she lifted her face from the floor a new determination is now filling the, no more terrified, eyes of the girl; that stood up and went to find a potion table, to make some curative potion for Neville, who was still bleeding.

“You… shouldn’t have putted in danger for me.” a small chuckle leaves his mouth “I’m one of their favourite targets, you know? I’m getting used to handle it.”

A shake of the shoulders is what he obtains in response.

“Sorry to take away your title, dear. But I’m pretty sure that from tonight they’ll have a new favourite.” As saying those words, she smiles, and give away a funny static pose, as a model. A weird way to dissolve tension, for sure, but nonetheless a little grin incurves Neville bloody face.

“Ginny’s going to be surpassed then, she won’t be happy.”

“Of course, she won’t be, she always must be the first in all, that girl is insufferable,” a small laugh escapes her lips, as she distillates the green potion. “should learn to share. With so many brothers who would have thought that she isn’t used to.”

She turns around, with a little smile on her face, handing the poor boy a vial. “Tastes like shit.” announces proudly “But will make you as new as you can be.”

There is a second in which they look in the eyes for a bit too long, but then Neville lowers his face to drink the potion, and she moves her gaze in another direction, not wishing to see the face of the boy reabsorb the wounds and the black eyes that he was, almost proudly, exhibiting. Doing so she found a Rag and a bucket of water standing next to her, almost as the room wanted to suggest the idea to use them to remove the blood from his face.

“You truly were very brave out there;” He muffled after some time “not many would have done what you did.”

“As many would have said that I’ve been a reckless idiot. Including me.” Another shake of shoulders. “We know since we were little kids, I couldn’t let you there. And besides, I’m pretty sure you would have done the same for me. Wouldn’t you?”

Neville smiled, while his cheeks became red as any given second “Of course” he stuttered “I would have for any of my friends.”

She smiled “Perfect, so you don’t have to thank me for nothing, I’ve done what was right to do. Nothing more, and, if we want to add a reason,” she says getting closer to him. “I think your face looks prettier without being black from the beating from the Carrows, you know?”

A small smile roses on the lips of Neville, while his cheeks became even more red if possible, and she laughs softly.

“We should return on the common room.” Neville stutters, avoiding her gaze. “Maybe the room can provide us a safe route to get as close as possible to the entrance.” adds, as a corridor opens in front of them. A swing of the wands creates enough light to make them advance with fairly security.

As they immerge in the dark path; she, instinctively, put her hand on top of one of Neville’s, without saying a word, as if comfort is the thing she is looking for with that gesture. No sound is exchanged, outside of the regular breathing, and noises of the two of them walking, feet crashing on the ground. Neither of them, with their intertwined fingers keeping each other near firmly, didn’t even attempt to let go the hand of the other; almost as they were to scared of losing the other person that was worthy of trust. As if they were in this together and together, they will get out.

When, finally, the image of a door delineates in front of them a sigh of relief emergers from both of their mouths, at the same time, and their shoulders relax after what has seemed to be ages. Lightly Neville tried to retract his hand from the strong grip of the girl in front of him but find him unable to do so.

“Uhm…” he mutters, under his breath “I think we are safe, now.”

She stood there for a second or two, listening to the sounds in the hall, her back as rigid as he never saw it, scared, perhaps. She brough a finger to her lips intimating silence as she approached the door, and leaning a ear against it, now listening carefully to any sound.

“I think we are safe Longbottom;” she whispers, cautiously, looking in his direction in the dimness, her big eyes wide open, her hands still trembling feebly. “one of us should go first, so, even if things go to hell we wont end both in detention.”

Neville nodded, silent, but then he goes on.

“I’ll go first, you already put yourself in danger this night to help me, it’s the least I can do to return the favour.” he hesitates for a second “Is it alright for you?”

She, once again, shook her shoulders; clearly more worried for the short distance that, she hopes, separate them from the Fat Lady painting, than for who should go first.

“Just, be careful,” it’s the first shaky words that leaves her mouth but then, he cocky smile that she used to wear as an armour since he get to know her blossom on her lips, and she continues “I can’t always be there to save you, can’t I?”

A small laugh leaves Nevilles lips as he puts his hand on the handle of the door. “Sadly, I would say.”

Without looking at her astonished face he goes out of the door, in the hall, loosing by doing so the rare image of the cheeks, and ears too, of the girl tinted of red. Afterward he went out she waited for a minute or two before emerging herself from the door, the well known hall in front of her calming her aching heart, knowing that the common room was just after the corners, she was already foretasting the good night of sleep she would have knowing she did help, when a hand poses on her shoulder, stopping her in the middle of the hall. A small cuss left her lips.

“There she is the little bastard who attacked one of the professors; like a coward, from his back.”

She stood petrified listening to the voice of Alecto in her hear. “C’mon miss, I think we have a long night that wait for us. We’ll have a lot of fun, and, fear not, my brother is fine after your little prank, so he will join us.”

Some sons of a bitch must have seen her, and, of course, the voices arrived to the Carrow before she can retract in the common room. Her usual luck; looking in another direction.

The woman, with a hand with a hand firmly on her shoulder conduced her away from her safe space, and, as she looked above her shoulder, the only relieving is don’t see any traces of Neville.

Part two

Neville entered in the common room like a fury, as he was chased from some of his worst demons, Piton that would be, and, once inside, he rested his back against the wall, under the shocked looks of his friends. Ginny, as always the fastest, was at his side in a mere second, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you okay? Why are you so late, the curfew started half an hour ago, you dumbass!” she smacked him in the back of his head “Did you want to have the Carrow punish you?”

The boy takes the hit without even flinching, his mouth left semi open because of the heavy breath. He stayed silent for some minutes and then, he revolted a worried look to the door, ignoring Ginny as she looked at him in disbelief. “She should be here by now. Why is she taking so much time” he muttered, his voice very worried.

“Who should be here?” Ginny asked, Seamus approaching as well.

“Y/n” he answered looking firmly at the door.

“L/n?” asked the two, in unison.

“Yes, she… she saw Amycus picking on me in the hall and, you should have seen her, she flew him into the wall, and then smacked him into the floor.” He lets out a small sigh “I don’t know if she learned that from Harry but was brilliant.”

Ginny moved his look on the door, now worrying for her friend.

“If someone has seen her doing something so stupidly brave, she is in so much trouble right now…” murmured, receiving a nod of approval from both boys.

Is easy to say that the girl didn’t return to the common room that night, Neville was sure about it, having spent the night on the sofa of the common room waiting for her, eventually falling asleep in front of the fire. The next morning waking up still on the sofa, with the worried look of Ginny make his spirit descend till the potion classroom. He tried to make is day go on as normal, trying to keep a low profile, but when in the evening him and Ginny didn’t find her in the common room panic start to grow in his stomach. The girl was absent because she exposed herself to protect him, Neville was sure of this, knowing that if she had being punished for being surprised outside the common room after the curfew she would be already came back. That night was spent insomniac by the poor boy who cannot even control his brain, leaving him to remember every interaction he had in the last four years with that girl with gentle eyes.

He thought over and over about that time in which, once again, she tokens his defences, in fourth year, when she, only thirteen years old, stepped in a hall while Cobble was pushing him in a corner. She, with sure footedness, approached them pretending to know what was happening there. Cobble, strong of his big body and dumb mind pushed her too, making her take some steps back; but then she dusted her skirt and in a second slammed the huge book she had under arm into the nose of the bully, making him fell over, as she looked at him; standing proud. After what was a brilliant, at least for Neville, Ginny and Ron, demonstration of pure power she moved her eyes on the bullied boy and give him the warmest of smile. “Are you okay?” Neville was sure, that first time would have been fire-branded in his head. Many where the times after that in which the girl helped him, and stood at his side, making the bullies, and even their friends, walk on the eggs, knowing that being rude to Neville would make her step in the middle; no one wanted to anger the girl with the quick tongue and no regards for their feelings. She was for sure a protector for her friends, and, in general, for everyone who she saw weak. She defended everyone, sooner or later, still having a clear soft spot for Neville. He always thought that the reason would have been because she think he was pathetic, and so during the DA she always offered herself to spar with him, and he knew she held herself, but he didn’t minded. Ginny many times assured him that she was one of the witches most gentle she knew, and he understood that she didn’t hold back for pity, but because he couldn’t have learned always with his ass on the ground.

Many memories held the boy awake during that night, hoping that the next day the girl would have been back.

But another day passed, and of her, no trace.

At this point Neville was in a panic so dramatic that at the end of the lessons he waits for Ginny and drag her to the office of the professor McGonagall, storming inside her office like a fury, or more, a desperate bird who crashes onto the bars of his cage.

“The Carrow, professor” he almost screams as the poor, tired woman which tries to make him lower his voice. “They have y/n”

The professor lifts an eyebrow. “I… Longbottom, I’m sorry but since the start of the year they have token the students for their… personal punishment” the woman sigh “I can’t do anything about it. I’m sure that in a few hours miss L/n will be back in the common room.”

Ginny shakes her head “She is gone for two days” and, without waiting for an invite, the girl starts narrating what has happened some nights before. As she goes on and on the eyebrows of the professor McGonagall lowered more and more, meanwhile Neville sat on a chair with his head on his hands, the fingers sunk in the hair, lightly shaking.

“This is very, very serious. The poor girl must be wary and tired. You two run to Madam Pomfrey and make her give you some potions for her wounds, I’ll go talk to the Carrows.” She announces, rising from her spot, to take the door, looking like a fury, and nothing like the calm professor that Ginny and Neville learned to knew in years.

The run for the infirmary was desperate for Neville, left alone from Ginny who went to the great hall to take something to eat both for her friend and Neville, which was fasting since the night before.

If the run has been terrifying to Neville the worst part was just beginning, another night awake, on the couch of his common room waiting for the girl that has saved him, perhaps for the last time. He couldn’t make the imagine of his parents in the vests of San Mungo’s, unable to recognize him, out of his head. His brain was invaded from all the memories of every smile she landed to him, and then her face overlapped to his mother’s, with the same confused expression and empty eyes. The lump in his throat making difficult for him to breath.

It is only after all the Gryffindor has returned to the common room that is heard a small knock on the painting of the Fat Lady, and, as she opened, all the people in the common room covered the eyes to the smallest kids present there. In front of them, supported by both of the Carrow was y/n, covered in blood, her hair tangled in knots and dried blood, her feet unable to support her were dragged on the floor abandoned, and her arms, always so strong, let loose, as she was unconscious.

Without any further ceremony the two siblings let her fell into the ground at the beginning of the passage to enter in the common room.

“Let this be a lesson to you all.” They only say, before turning on themselves and vanish in the black of the halls in the night.

As the two vanished, Neville, beating even Ginny, flew himself out of the common room kneeling near the girl reverse on the floor, and, with tenderness, lifting her up, as some fourth years makes the smaller kids, first and second years go to their room, to not witness the terrifying image in front of them. With gentleness, almost as he was afraid of broken her, Neville put the girl on the sofa, in front of the fire, looking at her trembling so slightly. Ginny, by his side, already was taking out the potions Madam Pomfrey had given them, and, trembling as well, pouring slowly in her friend’s mouth. Moments of silence make the whole room keep the breath, until a small cough came from the girl unconscious on the sofa, and the wound starts to vanish. But were not the wound of the body who worried Neville making him almost puke bile, but the wound of the sprit, terrified of losing another person to the insanity that the cruciatus can cause if used too much, for too much time on a single person. There he stood, kneeled near the sofa with the hands of the girl in his, waiting for a response, for her to open her gentle eyes and look at him. Looking at her covered in bruises and blood was sickening, but there he stayed, even after all the other went to bed. And slowly he fell asleep, sat on the floor with the head to rest on the sofa, near her waist.

A hand passing between his hair is what wakes him in the morning, or, since the black is still outside il still night. He lifted his head confused, asking why someone would wake him up, why is so uncomfortable, and in front of him a pair of very gentle eyes looking at him is what wakes him up definitely.

“I told you; you are cuter without the face black from the Carrow.” Jokes the girl weakly, passing her hand on his hair, whit tenderness. “I’m happy you came back safe.” She then added, with scratchy voice.

Neville almost cried “You are the most reckless idiot I’ve ever seen. You had it ten time worse than me, and for what?”

Again, se let go a weak laugh “For what? Neville, for you, dumbass. I’ve looked out for you since I was thirteen. You can’t really think I would just be stood there as that son of a bitch tortures you.” Her hand moves from his hair to his cheek “You are the most amazing Gryffindor I know, Bloody hell, the most amazing person” she coughs a few times “I will always look out for you, whether you want it or no. I owe it to you. And I know you don’t need me anymore, perhaps you never did, but I don’t want to leave you alone, I never will.”

The smile on her lips weak lips made Neville almost lose it, he bit his lip and looked away for a second or two, to recompose himself. But when he glanced at her, seeing the girl bruised and covered in her own blood his barriers collapsed, without thinking he launched himself on her, hugging her with as many forces as he could, even forgetting to be careful to not hurt her. She didn’t complain, as he can remember she never did, always as steady as a rock in the middle of a hurricane, nothing ever make her complain, nor the Umbridge, nor the hits of the bludgers during the quidditch matches, and now even the Carrow. She slowly drags him on the sofa, with her, and there they stood, him caressing her hair, slowly and humming an old song his grandma used to sing to him in the nights of tempest, and eventually fell asleep, hugging tightly.

When, the morning after Ginny finds them on the sofa a light grin appeared on her face, smacking Neville lightly on the head to wake him up. The boy, rose, confused.

“So?” asked Ginny with a smirk “did you sleep well with your girlfriend?”

A small laugh, held back to not wake the subject of the conversation, left the lips of Neville.

“She is not my girlfriend. I’m pretty sure se sees me as a… good friend. Someone to take care of, at the most”

Ginny’s face almost fell on the floor.

“Are you idiot? Yes?” she didn’t await for an answer. “I think you should tell her that, if you only see her as a friend, I mean.”

Neville shot her a confused look.

“Only love makes someone that crazy Nev. And, if I reckon correctly se collect detention since her third year to protect you. That is a lot of love, if you ask me, and” and she darted a look at her “a lot of points from our house.”

She shakes her shoulders.

“I’ll let the professors know you are sick today, use this time to… I don’t know, make whatever there is between the two of you clear. We would use some love to cheer us up.”

She left, and slowly every other Gryffindor rose and left the common room, leaving Neville and Y/n alone in there. She still sleeping and, even if he needed a shower, he can’t force himself to leave her side, worried that she would wake up and have the terrible idea to go to a somewhere.

Around the half of the morning a house elf delivered to them something to eat, and when finally, the girl woke up they agree to take a shower, put on some comfy clothes and meet by the sofa to have breakfast together. And so, they did.

The silence filling the room, except for the fire dancing in the fireplace, the idea to break it to make whatever there is clear as Ginny has said make the knees of Neville feels like jelly. But, in the end, he forces himself to do it.

“Y/n” he called softly, gaining from the girl a curious look “I… do have a question for you”.

She nodded, gulping the piece of bread she was eating, so, he continued.

“Do… why…” he sighs passing a hand on his eyes “Ginny says…”

“Ginny is right” she cut short. Extending her legs to the fireplace, while moving towards him, and tanking his hand in hers. “I told you last night, I will always have your back, Neville. I… I don’t think you remember, but me and Ginny where friends from the first year, and when she vanished, you were the one who consoled me. In my second year when Black evaded and I was terrified you were the one who was sleeping next to me, and you comforted me, once again. You… always make me feel save, when I was terrified, in my third year, I don’t know if you remember but I was next to you when… Harry came back with Cedric. I was so shocked, but when I grasped at your hand you didn’t move it, once again you were my rock. And every year, when something terrifying happened you are always next to me, making me calm.” She laughs softly “You are my rock, always has been even if you didn’t know.”

Nevilles face fell. Never would have imagined that the girl that he associated with the word Bravery considered him her rock. Even in his wildest dreams, the ones in which he finds the courage to confess to her, she accepts his love and to take care of him, discovery that she sees him as the one that takes care of her was the most unexpected thing.

“You… are kidding me” he exhales “you are the bravest witch in this school, one of the best duellists I’ve ever seen, you punched Cabble at thirteen and, and defended me from the bullies so many times. I always seen in you the rock of my life. You were always the one that defended me. You were the powerful, brilliant, beautiful one Y/n!” Almost hysterically he passed a hand in his hair, confused, amazed by the situation. “You are the most incredible witch that Hogwarts has ever seen, and… and I’m every day happy to know you consider me one of your friends. But… Bloody hell. I’m mad for you since, I don’t know, fourth year? Fifth? I don’t need to know if you reciprocate, it’s okay to just be your friend, but… please don’t make me worry like this no more, I’m not sure I can take it.”

As one of his worst nightmares she lets go a laugh, but it ends very shortly after.

“I love you Longbottom, since I can remember.” She shook her head “Hell, I was waiting for this for years.” She laughs again moving closer to him, actually, almost jumping into him, to kiss him with fierce passion; forgetting all that waits for them outside the common room. Their hands travelled on their body, caressing, hugging desperate to find some peace, to lower some burdens from their hearts, because, in the end, they were only two kids in the middle of a war.

[easterbonnet]

Neville Longbottom Masterlist

. . .

neville comforts you during a storm

note: he is also included in my hp boys react series on my masterlist

[avalynlestrange]

Neville Longbottom

Masterlist

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

Back to The Library (Main Masterlist) To The Kitchen (WIPs)

Send me an owl post if you have a fic request.

Tone: ♡ Fluff ♥ Angst ❥ Suggestive Themes

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

✿ Begin Again | x Pansy Parkinson | ♡ Flashfic One-shot Songfic |

Summary: In which Pansy watches love begin again.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

[fredgeorgegredfeorge]

Green-Eyed Monster | F.W.

For the first time ever, Fred Weasley finds himself jealous over the only person in the world he needn’t worry a bit about.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x f!reader

Word count: 8k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, oral + fingering (f!receiving, (lots of) dirty talk, name calling, praise/degradation, dom/sub dynamic, some nipple play, touch of a breeding kink, possessiveness/jealousy, some toxic themes, established relationship, swearing, drinking, arguing, angst, fluff, sorry if miss any!

first hp fic in a very long time! what better to post than this mess (jealous, possessive, sexy mess). basically pwp—let me know what you think! (Barely edited at all lmao my apologies)

You sat quietly at George’s desk, eyes focused on a piece of parchment as you both tried to break down the recipe George had scribbled down. There was a hiccup, a hitch in the plan of brewing a batch of Euphoria Elixir for the joke shop, and it was pushing back your plans to place them on the shelves this week. After a few hours of quiet deliberation on his lonesome, George decided to seek your help in hopes of speeding up the process.

So, the two of you put your heads together and re-read the ingredient list a million times, wondering how the hell it turned out murky green instead of sunshine-y yellow. The cauldron sat smoldering across the room, a rain cloud above it as the bubbly mixture spilled over the sides. Upon first glance, you had stated the absolute obvious.

“Isn’t that supposed to be a rainbow?” You raised an eyebrow, looking at your brother-in-law as he collapsed in his chair.

“Yes, you git.” George rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. You shot him a sharp look, warning him to be nice if he wanted your help. You knew George didn’t mean any of the insults—he was simply frustrated and maybe even a little embarrassed that he could not figure it out by himself. “Sorry, Y/N.” He conceded, realizing he came on a bit too strong.

“S’alright.” You assured him, stepping towards the desk where he sat. “Where’s the ingredient list? We’ll start there.” You offered, knowing you would help no matter how poor of a mood he was in. You loved George almost as much as you loved Fred, if you had to compare. Even if it was in a different way, you had a hard time refusing him when he used the same charm tactics as his twin brother.

After spending so many years in a relationship with Fred, it would be obscure for you not to have a bond with the closest person to him. Over the years, he’d surpassed a friend and had grown into your own brother. You were certain that no matter where life took you and Fred, George would always hold a special place in your heart. When the two opened their shop in Diagon Alley, you volunteered most of your free time to help them in any way you could, and whether it was tweaking new products or doing some of the dirty work, you never really minded.

That evening in specific, Fred was off on some ‘official business’, which really just meant meeting with a potential product buyer at The Leaky Cauldron. Last month, George took the burden of doing so, and they decided it was only fair for him to do it this time. Unfortunately for you, as much as you loved supporting them, it did interfere with your evening plans with him. So, sulking and trying your best to swallow it down, you distracted yourself with stocking shelves downstairs to prepare for another busy day ahead.

You were actually near grateful when George emerged from the office, calling out to you in desperation. It gave you a break from the monotonous back and forth, and someone to talk to. If it could not be Fred, you decided George was the next best.

“So, what’d’ya think it could be?” George asked, peeking over the cauldron that was still spitting back at him. He dodged out of the way, trying his best not to get any of the splashback on his new jumper.

“Well, from what you’ve told me, seems like you put all the right stuff in.” You deducted, pursing your lips slightly as you read over the list for what seemed like the millionth time. “Sad as it sounds, I doubt we can save it now, even if we figure out what happened.” You said, recalling your potions knowledge that Snape had relayed over the years.

“Right, but I’d like to know what’s wrong before I try again.” He explained, taking a moment to look over your sad expression. His eyebrows furrowed, his head cocking to the side as he tried to figure out where it was coming from. “What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Your eyes flickered upwards to meet his, your cheeks tinged red from the heat of the room. Your lips dipped into a frown as you shrugged your shoulders, brushing him off so you did not need to explain yourself. “I know you better than that. Come on, now.” He urged, placing his palms flat against the desk as he leaned towards you, a challenging look in his eye.

You narrowed your brows, keeping a stony expression as you met his gaze. “What’s it to you, Weasley?” You shot back, unsure of where your defensive nature was coming from. Perhaps you weren’t willing to discuss your relationship problems with your boyfriend’s twin brother, or maybe it was because you felt foolish for being upset at all.

“Reckon we’re past that, hmm? Your problems are our problems, and all.” He responded, also unsure of why you were being so reserved with your thoughts. Usually, you were an open book, especially with the two of them.

“My problems aren’t your problems, Georgie.” You shook your head, shutting down the ridiculous notion. “Let’s get back to the real problem, yeah?”

“No, I don’t think so.” George disagreed, his concern now over something completely different. “Is it about Fred?” At that, the tips of your ears began to burn and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “Ah, I see.” A devious smile crossed his lips.

“It’s not a big deal.” You covered your tracks, tapping the ink-less quill against the worn parchment.

“I have a hard time believing you, considering you just lied to me.”

“Lied is a strong word,” you rolled your eyes, quickly realizing that there would be no escaping the conversation. “I didn’t lie about anything.”

“What’s he done?”

“Nothing!” You exclaimed, a dry laugh leaving your lips. “It’s just… I’m just being dramatic.” And it’s true, you were being dramatic. Well, maybe not fully, but that’s what you were trying to convince yourself of. “I just miss him, I suppose. I know you both have been busy, but I think maybe I underestimated how busy you would actually be.” You continued, knowing it was wrong to confide in his twin brother about your relationship issues. Still, it felt good to get it off your chest, to voice the concern and have someone shoot you down, just so you knew you were being irrational. “This is the third night in a row we’ve canceled our plans. I’ll get over it. It’s no big deal.”

“That’s a big deal.” He hummed, sympathizing with you to make you feel better. “Bloody inconsiderate, if you ask me.” But you weren’t asking him, and somehow his justification of your feelings only made you feel worse. “What? Not allowed to speak my mind?”

“No—“ you let out a defeated sigh, slumping down in your seat. “I know that, but I was hoping you would tell me I’ve gone mad, instead.”

“Blimey, Y/N, you’re allowed to be upset. We're busy, yeah, but you’re still his girlfriend.” George said, jumping slightly when the rain cloud above the cauldron let out a crack of thunder. “If you’d rather, we can forget the elixir and grab dinner instead. I’m not Fred, but I’m pretty damn close.” He gave you a cheeky smile, earning an honest laugh from you.

“S’alright, Georgie. Thank you, though.” You appreciated his kindness, but you were sure it would only make your predicament even worse, considering Fred’s recently acquired short-fuse when it came to you and George spending so much time together. It was odd for him to be so protective, so jealous of the one person in the world he needn’t worry about, but it seemed as though the new trait was permanent. Perhaps it came from the fact he was also missing you due to your busy schedules, and how it sometimes seemed you and George were most often left at the shop alone.

“You know, I have noticed that lately.” George continued, leaning against the desk as he reminisced over the last few weeks. “Always seems to be us stuck here together.”

“Mhm.” You mumbled, slowly realizing that you weren’t as insane as you previously thought if he was noticing all of the same things. “Let’s just figure this out so I can get home.”

So you did. A grueling hour spent recounting George’s every step in brewing the elixir left the two of you puzzled and even more frustrated. By that point in the night, you were hunched over the long list of his steps you had jotted down so you could (hopefully) discover what he missed.

“I dunno, Georgie.” You sighed. “Seems like you did everything—“ you cut yourself off, leaning closer to the page on the desk as you caught something you hadn’t seen before.

“What?” He asked, his head snapping towards you. “What is it?”

“You said when you let it simmer, it was turquoise.” You said, looking up at him.

“Yeah, so?” He replied, confused why it was such a big deal.

“It’s meant to be blue.” You explained, a grin on your face as you relayed the information to him.

“Turquoise… blue… same thing, innit?” He asked, standing and walking over to you.

“Maybe to you.��� You giggled, pointing to the piece of paper where he missed the step. “After you add the shrivelfig, you have to stir it until it changes color.” He walked up behind you, placing one hand on your arm as he leaned over your opposite shoulder. He smelled of butterbeer, likely due to the one he’d been nursing the entire time you sat together. You immediately noticed the warmth of his body, how similar it felt to how Fred touched you, but how drastically different it was all the same.

“Blimey, you’re right!” He exclaimed, his voice still soft so he was not yelling in your ear. “What would I do without you?” He gave your arm a gentle squeeze, leaning closer and pressing the side of his face to yours in a makeshift hug. His hand dropped to your back, lingering there as the conversation continued.

“It’s nothing, really.” You smiled, closing your eyes to enjoy the warmth for a moment. “So now you know. You can do it again, but make sure to stir it until it’s blue. By tomorrow, we’ll have it bottled and on the shelves just like we planned.”

“Our number one girl, saving the day yet again.” He sighed in relief. “I better get to it—“

Before his thought could finish, the door to the office swung open, cutting him short. Your eyes turned upwards, landing on a slightly drunken version of the boyfriend who’d abandoned your evening plans. The gloss of his eyes and the goofy smile on his lips led you to believe so, and the redness on the apples of his cheeks only solidified it. Only his cheeky grin didn’t last too long when he processed the scene in front of him, how close the two of you were, how heavy George’s hand seemed on your back and how rosy your own cheeks were.

Quickly, his jaw tightened, his gaze narrowing as he tried to decipher the whole situation. His nostrils flared ever so slightly, and his arms raised to cross over his chest. Immediately, you knew what you’d be in for; a long, tiresome argument that changed absolutely nothing. Instead of fighting the silent accusations, defending yourself for no real reason at all, you watched him with the same intensity while you awaited a snide comment.

“So what’s all this, then?” Fred asked, his face clearly conveying all of his emotions.

“Helping Georgie make the elixir while you were off getting sloshed at The Leaky Cauldron.” You muttered, noticing George straighten himself up in hopes of avoiding any further damage.

“I was not getting sloshed, I was doing business.” He corrected, defensive over the fact. “S’pose you were hoping I’d take a little longer, yeah? Give you some more time to cozy up with my brother?”

“Blimey, Fred. If you took any longer, I’d imagine you’d have to move in with the lad.” George took your side on the matter. “At least she wouldn’t have to worry about you missing dinner again.” At that, Fred’s eyes cut to you, immediately understanding where the underlying tension was coming from.

“Is that right?” Fred’s voice was no louder than a whisper, all of the pieces clicking together in an instant. “I don’t suppose the two of you had dinner? Let him fill in for me while I was gone?”

“No, we did not.” You snipped, standing as you gathered the ingredients for George’s second attempt at the brew.

“Yeah, right. What else did he fill in for, sweetheart? Anything you think I should know?” At that, your eyes widened and your face turned red. Your entire body felt like it was engulfed in flames, appalled that he would even think such a thing.

“Piss off, Fred.” You muttered, stepping out from behind the desk as tears stung your eyes. George shot you a sympathetic look as you pushed past his brother and out into the stairwell. You trodded down to the main level, swiping fallen tears away from your cheeks as you rushed out the front entrance of the building.

The cool air of the night was nice, especially after spending so long cramped up in the tiny office space, but it was not as freeing as you might have hoped once you heard footsteps following behind you. Without acknowledging him, you pulled your keys from your pocket, hoping that maybe he forgot his own set and you wouldn’t have to deal with his drunken arguments tonight if you got inside before him.

Of course, you knew that was childish and cruel, because despite being upset with him, loving him was the only thing you knew how to do. You unlocked the front door, holding it open with your boot-clad foot as he stumbled his way behind you. As soon as he passed through the doorway, you continued on your journey to ignore him and tossed your keys on the counter.

“Hey,” Fred reached out, his warm hand landing on your arm, stopping you from running any further from him.

“What?” You snapped, immediately regretting the harshness of your tone. He recoiled at the sound, shocked that you spoke to him in such a way. Usually the two of you saw eye to eye on everything, and in your long standing relationship arguing had never been your thing. Until you left school, you were certain the two of you had never been angry at each other, ever.

“What the bloody hell was that about? I leave for a few hours, and the two of you get on like that? Does that happen every time I step out?” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes again, wondering why this became such a problem in the few short months you’d been graduated.

“Merlin, Fred. You’re acting like you caught us in a broom closet.” You tried again to make your way to the bedroom, unwilling to argue a point he knew was blasphemous anyhow. “We were working, not fucking.”

“Yeah, but I bet you would’ve let him, right?” He grabbed your hand, spinning you back around to face him. He pulled you into him, his athletic build never leaving him even after he stopped playing quidditch. “Bitching and moaning cause I couldn’t be home to take you to dinner… if you were so upset, why didn’t you come to me, princess? Tell me what was wrong?” You could smell fire whiskey on his breath, feeling his chest heaving with anger against your own. As angry as you were, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of arousal run through you. The slight sneer on his face, the fire in his eyes, and the protective hold he had on you was sending your head spinning with thoughts much less pertinent to the topic at hand.

“Maybe I would have if you spared me the time of day.” You argued, finding yourself short of breath as you realized just how much he towered over you. “But, as it seems, you’ve been too damn busy to spare me a second glance.”

“Christ, when did you get so needy?” His rebuttal came easy, like he’d been waiting to have this fight for weeks. “Weren’t satisfied at home, so you thought my brother could do it for you?”

“Are you daft?” You hissed, feeling his fingers tighten on your hips. You hated that the feeling made you forget about your troubles, urging you to push the argument to the side and settle it in a better, more pleasurable way. “If that’s what I wanted, you think I’d be up here arguing with you?”

“That depends, sweetheart. Were you planning on getting caught?” He raised an eyebrow, the thud of his heart against his chest letting you know just how worked up he was. There was no way he truly believed you would do that to him, especially after all you had been through together. You wondered if maybe the lack of time spent with each other was getting to him, souring his thoughts because he missed you just as much as you missed him. “We may be identical, Princess, but he could never give you what I can.”

You hated to admit it, but for some strange reason, jealousy looked really good on him.

“What, a headache and a poor mood?” You decided to play his game if he wasn’t willing to listen to reason. If he wanted to fight, you could do it too. “I’m sure he could manage. In fact, he could probably do a hell of a lot more.” That seemed to strike a nerve in him, pushing him over the edge in an instant and changing the entire mood hanging heavy in the room. He no longer wanted to talk, but rather prove a point.

He took a step backwards, never easing his hold as he pushed you towards the kitchen table. He didn’t stop until your ass hit the edge, a mischievous look in his eye replacing the earlier annoyance. He had you locked in place, no intent to back down as he stared down at you over the bridge of his nose. Then, a small smirk turned the corner of his lips, leading you to believe he was also thinking of a much more simple way to solve your problems.

“Maybe you just need a reminder of who you belong to, yeah?” He asked, his voice quieter than it was before. You felt your mouth run dry, your eyes never leaving his as a dull ache between your legs began to pester you.

That would make you feel better, but he had pissed you off enough that you wanted to refuse him the satisfaction.

“Maybe we should get Georgie up here. According to you, he’d be the one to set me straight.” There was a slight venom in your tone letting him know you wouldn’t be letting anything go so easily. A low chuckle shook his shoulders, his eyes gleaming with a sinister look you weren’t sure you’d ever seen from him before that night. He shook his head ever so slightly, playing into you as he reached one arm behind you.

Your heart raced as you awaited a response, wondering if maybe you pushed him too far and crossed a boundary you could not double back on. You didn’t have to wonder long, because without a second thought, he cleared all of the items littering the table with one swift move of his arm. Papers scattered everywhere, floating through the air and landing all over the floor. Broken products and half finished merchandise for the shop tumbled off the edge, falling less than gracefully onto the tile below. Without ever breaking eye contact, he raised an eyebrow, daring you to say it again.

“You think he can fuck you better than I can?” He asked, giving you the opportunity to change your mind.

“Right now? Yeah.” You spat, wondering if he’d ever drop the act and get on with his day. “Seems like all you want to do is get on my nerves.”

“Yeah?” He challenged, his face so close to yours you could feel his breath on your skin. The tip of his nose grazed your own, his normally warm and comforting irises engulfed by his lust-blown pupils. Or perhaps it was anger that gave him the new look—you weren’t quite sure. “You’d rather go home with him at night? Wake up next to him every morning? Is that really what you want, princess?” He taunted, knowing very well that your heart was his, even if he found himself caught up in a few moments of doubt.

Still neglecting to give him any gratification, you nodded your head despite the sickening feeling that washed over you at the thought. As if he called your bluff before you ever said it aloud, he laughed at the certainty in your action, which only seemed to anger you further.

“If that’s the case, seems like I’ve got my work cut out for me tonight.” He responded, brushing the comment off as if it were nothing. If there was one thing Fred couldn’t ever turn down, it was a challenge, and since coming upstairs with you, it was only further proven to him that’s all this was. “Maybe I’ve gotten too comfortable, sweetheart. After so long, you think you’d know that you’re mine, huh?” Before he continued his tyrant, he used his hands on your hips to lift you onto the table with ease. The ache between your legs had grown stronger, more intense and impossible to ignore. You could feel the wetness soaking through your panties, and the thought of his strong arms lifting you so carelessly only made you spiral further. “Maybe I expect too much of you.” He theorized, recognizing the gleam in your eyes because he’d seen it a thousand times before.

He let his hands trail under the hem of your jumper, settling on the button of your jeans as he undid it with ease. You never let your eyes trail from his face, realizing that no matter how upset you were, it could never take away from how much you loved him. He was beautiful, his fiery red hair and the freckles splattered across his cheeks and nose creating a perfect picture. The softness of his complexion and the gentleness hidden deep in his expression assured you that whatever the two of you were doing was nothing more than an act. He knew you were his just as well as you did, but he knew the only way to settle the (admittedly, misguided) fear was to hear you say it aloud.

You helped him pull the fabric from your legs, wrapping your arms around his neck as you lifted your hips from the table. He discarded the clothing on the floor, paying no mind to it as he returned his hands to your bare legs. His eyes searched your face, carefully looking for any sign of discomfort. Instead, he was met with a pleading expression that only seemed to fuel his too large ego even further.

“No matter,” he disregarded his earlier rant, his eyes growing heavy as his hand fell between your legs. His fingertips grazed the thin fabric separating him from your core, a shiver running down his spine as he noticed the arousal that had soaked straight through. “I don’t mind having to show you. Least I’ll get to have my fun too, yeah?” He applied slight pressure to your aching clit, watching to see your reaction. Your eyebrows knitted together, your lips parting slightly as your hips moved forward into his hand, your body betraying your mind and begging him for something more.

At that, a grin encased his face, happy to see that he hadn’t lost his touch, even if your lives were vastly different and ever-changing by the day. He knew exactly how to make you feel good, and he took pride in it.

“See, Princess? She’ll always tell me the truth.” He taunted, his voice quiet as his eyes trailed down to his hand. You swallowed hard, knowing he had you in a stalemate. “Tell me again, who do you think knows how to make you feel good? Who does it best?” He was on a power trip, unwilling to slow down until he heard you admit it. Still, you stood your ground, pressing your lips tightly together so not a single sound could pass through. His grin faded, slowly sinking into a scowl as your disobedience remained clear.

He removed his finger from you, tracing the hem of your panties as he hooked his finger through the side of the fabric resting on your hip. He awaited an answer, giving you the opportunity to change your mind. When you kept your stoicism, he gave one, hard tug on the lacy fabric until it snapped in two. He used his other hand to do it to the opposite side, giving himself easy access to you without hearing a complaint on your end.

“So you don’t care who’s between your legs?” He continued, unrelenting as you stared him down. “Doesn’t matter who, as long as there’s a cock in you? As long as someone’s taking care of your pretty pussy?” Your cheeks flushed, your chest burning as the filthy words washed over you. “Doesn’t matter, sweetheart. When I’m done with you, I’ll be the only person you can think of. Surely then you won’t be able to forget who you belong to.”

His hand connected with your bare cunt, his fingers trailing through your arousal and settling over your clit as he began to trace slow circles into the sensitive area. Your legs trembled at the contact, finally feeling some relief from the nagging sensation that had been taking over.

“Fuck. Fred.” You whispered, giving yourself away immediately. He let out a low hum, pleased with the sound and knowing he was the reason for it. He had you where he wanted you, and now he just had to keep up the pace. You could feel his hardening length against your leg, distracting you completely from the pent up anger and frustration.

“That’s it.” He encouraged, his middle finger sinking inside of you as he let his thumb take over on your clit. “That’s my girl.” He made sure to accentuate the claim, never once letting you forget it. “All you needed was a little help remembering.” Slowly, he pumped his finger into you, keeping time with his thumb as he began to work you towards a climax. “You want to say it for me? Tell me what I already know?” Instead of responding, you let out a whine, your hips bucking forward into his hand. Although it wasn’t what he was looking for, it was just enough for him to keep going.

He curled his fingers as he pumped them into you, begging for a reaction as your hand wrapped around his bicep for support. You felt the tense of his muscles as he worked at you, only pushing you closer to insanity. You were his, undoubtedly and wholeheartedly, and you would be crazy to ever want anyone else.

“Stubborn little thing tonight.” He remarked, his eyes focused on the point in which his hand met with you, never breaking his stare as he watched his fingers disappear into you. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Need more, Freddie.” You replied, your eyes squeezed shut as you felt the pleasure pulsing under your skin. It had been a long time since you felt him this way, and your impatience was quite clear.

“My little whore needs more?” He teased, applying a little more pressure with his thumb. A gasp fell from your lips, sending your upper half leaning forward until your forehead rested against his. “Asking a lot from someone you aren’t being very good for.” He chastised you for your behavior despite being the one that caused the problem in the first place.

“M’sorry, my love. S-so sorry.” You rushed out, his fingers brushing against the sweet spot inside you only he knew how to find.

“That’s not what I want to hear sweetheart, and you know it.” His tone was firm, unrelenting as he continued his torment. You let out a groan of frustration, wishing he’d quicken the pace and give you what you wanted, even though you refused to give in to him.

He leaned forward, closing the gap between your mouths as he grew tired of waiting for the words he wanted to hear. He tasted like the whiskey that had been fuelling his poor mood, sweet and bitter all at once as his tongue grazed your bottom lip. You hated how easy it was for him to turn you into a mess, hated how easy it was for him to make you forget you were angry at all. You pulled him closer to you, holding his arm tightly so he would not pull away. You were stubborn, but despite that, you were showing him everything he wanted to see through your actions alone.

You broke from the kiss as a particularly intense wave of euphoria pulled your stomach. Your forehead continued to rest on his, holding you upright as he continued to give you just enough to keep you satisfied.

“Say it, princess.” His voice was low, raspy and laced with desire as he watched you turn into a mess below him. “Tell me you’re all mine. Tell me I’m the only one who can make you feel like this.” Instead, you connected your mouths again, letting a desperate moan out at the same time. He drank in the sound, his cock throbbing as his hips jutted forward into nothing. He was almost more desperate than you were, which only allowed for you to take him less seriously.

“G-gonna have to try harder than that.” You found a peculiar pleasure in leaving him on edge, giving him a taste of his own medicine as he continued to torture both of you at once. “Show me why I should say it, Freddie. Seems like you’re all t-talk.” You stuttered, tripping over your words as you tried to keep your composure.

He withdrew his hand from you, making you cry out in frustration from the loss of pleasure. Your eyes met his, desperation written all over your face as you protested his actions. Silently, he sunk to his knees between your legs, pulling you to the edge of the table by your hips. He didn’t spare a single glance at your face before his tongue connected with your core, the warm wetness of his tongue even more pleasurable than the rough pad of his thumb.

You laid back on the table, your hands sinking downwards and tangling in the soft locks of hair. Although you were denying him of the statement he wanted to hear, you could not deny that your last argument was wholly untrue. Fred was determined to prove a point, and he was doing it well.

You weren’t far off from an orgasm, his tongue making quick work at pushing you to the edge. The sounds falling from your lips were telling of your current state, and as delirium began to set in, your defenses began to break down.

He suctioned his lips around your clit, adding his fingers to the mix and returning to his earlier pace to torture you further. Every nerve in your body was ablaze with desire, need seeping from every pore as you realized just how badly you needed the release. Sick of the game, you finally broke in fear he would leave you hanging yet again.

“Oh, god.” You gasped, your legs resting over his shoulders in attempt to stop the constant trembling of the lips. “I’m yours, Fred, fuck!” You exclaimed, a sheen layer of sweat forming over your forehead as the knot in your belly began to tighten. “Only you can make me feel this good. Nobody else.” You whined, your fingers tightening on the locks of hair as you began to tug at the strands. You could feel him smiling against you, happy to finally hear you admit the truth.

Pleased with your confessions, he curled his fingers against your g-spot one last time, generously giving you the very thing you’d been pleading for. In a mess, your entire body tensed as the pleasure took hold. The orgasm washed over you, leaving your heart racing against your chest and your head swirling with filthy thoughts for the boy between your legs. A hum of approval let you know he was more than happy with your performance, and he kept his pace until he felt you relax against the table below you.

Once he knew he’d gotten the most out of you, he rose to his feet, towering over you as you laid below him. In the dim moonlight, you could see your orgasm glistening on his chin, only furthering his cockiness as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip so he did not waste a drop of it.

“Always taste so sweet, princess.” He whispered, using one hand to free himself from his pants and his boxers. “And it’s all for me.” He continued, slipping his shirt from his head. He used it to wipe his face clean before tossing it on the floor to join the growing pile of clothes. With shaky hands, you lifted your upper half from the table and pulled your own jumper over your head. “Isn’t that right?” He stepped toward, settling between your legs as his hands ghosted over your bare thighs.

You let out a whimper, his grip landing on your already sore hips as his eyes raked over your entire frame. Your gaze flickered to his cock, hard and aching for relief as he continued to tease you. His fingers tickled your stomach as he trailed his touch upwards, his palm landing flat against your breast as he gave it a gentle squeeze. He let the pad of his thumb brush over your hardened nipple, sending another wave of pleasure through you.

“Answer me, sweetheart.” He wasn’t playing anymore; he wanted to hear the words, and he was done with your obstinacy. He pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger,

“Yes,” you huffed, already forgetting the pleasure from your first climax as a whole new wave of need began to take over. “I’m yours, Fred. All yours.” You reiterated your earlier statement, now willing to do whatever he wanted of you to prove the point.

“Tell me how bad you want it.” He shot you a twisted little smile, almost as if he was getting off just from the thought of you begging for him.

“I need it, baby. Need to feel you, please.” You whined, reaching for his arms and pulling him closer. “Want you so bad, Fred. Been waiting all night for it.” You felt the tip of his cock connect with your cunt, his expression faltering as soon as he felt the wetness.

“God, you make it so hard to be upset with you.” He hissed the words through his teeth, using his hand to guide himself through your folds as he sucked in a sharp breath. He settled himself just over your already sensitive clit, pushing his hips forward ever so slightly to apply pressure to the spot. “Sound so pretty when you’re begging to be fucked.”

Slowly, he let his tip run back through your arousal, settling the head just at your entrance. He pushed himself forward, but just barely. You whimpered as you braced yourself for the feeling, only to be let down when he stopped himself from going any further.

“Fred,” you warned, catching his eye so he could see your desperate face. You hoped that if he did, he would stop being such a tease. “Please fuck me.”

“What was that?” He smirked, turning his head slightly so his ear was closer to you. “Didn’t quite catch it.”

“Fred, stop—“ you cut yourself off, letting out a huff of annoyance. You knew chastising him for his actions would only make him less likely to give in, even if it was incredibly hard to hold it back. “I need you to fuck me.” You repeated, clearer and louder in hopes of swaying his decision. “Can’t wait any longer, baby. Please.”

At that, he pushed forward the rest of the way, sending your entire body raising with goosebumps. The stretch as he filled you was exactly what you craved, and as he reached the hilt, his tip brushed against your g-spot so delicately that it almost made you come undone right then and there. Your eyelids grew heavy with satisfaction, focusing on how full you felt with him inside of you, knowing that he for certain would always be the one for you.

“That good enough for you, Princess? This is what you wanted?” He asked, letting himself rest inside you for a moment. He felt your walls flutter around him, pulling him even further and making it harder for him to resist you.

“Mhm,” you hummed, giving him a tired nod of agreement. You could feel him throbbing inside of, desperate for a release just like you had been moments before, but he was still trying to prove his point.

“Nobody else gets to have you like this, sweetheart. You’re mine.” He whispered, now sober from the alcohol but intoxicated by an even stronger, deadlier force; you. “He couldn’t fuck you like this, and you know it.” As he spoke, he withdrew his hips and slammed them forward into you again. The action stole the breath from your lungs, twisting your stomach with pleasure as your nails scratched over his skin.

He began at a pace, slower than normal but the force behind his movements making your head spin. You moaned quietly, lost within the feeling of being so close to him. He never failed to take your breath away, never failed to amaze you with his every move. You were so in love with him it sometimes felt like there was no room within your heart for anyone or anything else.

“Tell me, Y/N.” He ordered, his stare never wavering as he fucked into you. As much as he wanted to succumb to the sensation of you wrapped around him, he found it hard to push the thoughts of your earlier arguments out of his head. “You think he’d fuck you like this? You think he could make you feel this good?”

“No, Freddie.” You gasped, feeling the strength of his thrusts increase, sending the legs of the table wobbling. His fingers tightened on your hips, likely leaving behind angry red marks that would fade into reminders of him for days to come.

“That’s it, Princess.” He panted, his chest heaving as he tried to resist the pull of pleasure. “Don’t you think, not even for a second, that anyone can give you half of what I can.” You both knew this to be fact; nobody in the entire world could ever compare to him. “And why do you think that is?”

“‘C-cause I’m yours,” you managed to stutter out the response, watching him as the statement washed over. He brought his hand to your thigh, your legs wrapped tightly around you as he pulled you back on him with every thrust. His head fell back on his shoulders, the dim light of the room casting a beautiful hue over his already breathtaking features.

“That’s right,” he grunted, slamming his hips forward again. There was a thin layer of sweat sheen on his chest, the toned muscles of his abdomen flexing every time he moved. The exposed columns of his neck made your mouth water, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed back his own groans of pleasure. “Was that why you were mouthing off? You just needed someone to take care of you? Just needed me to fuck you?”

“God, yes.” You moaned, feeling the pressure in your belly begin to reach a peak.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart? All over my cock?” He smiled, looking down at you so he could appreciate the view. “Come on now, making a fucking mess of it.”

“Fuck,” you whimpered, his words hitting you hard and causing the tightening knot in your belly to tense even further.

“That’s my pretty girl. Just like that.” He continued to encourage you, studying your expression as pleasure began to twist it.

It didn’t take much more for you to descend into another orgasm, your entire body quivering as you cried out for him, singing his name like a hymn and he was the god in which you prayed to. Your throat was raw, raspy from the constant string of moans passing your lips. You were tired, almost too fucked out to continue on, but he was having none of it. He didn’t slow his pace as you came down from the high, instead speeding up and ensuring that he pulled your entire body down on him as he fucked into you.

“Freddie, please.” You breathed, feeling the threat of overstimulation begin to creep in. He would have had sympathy had he known you couldn’t take it, but he was confident in your ability to keep up with him.

“What’s wrong, Princess? Wanted it so bad and now you can’t handle it?” He asked, his eyes glazed over with lust as he felt himself approaching his own orgasm. You frowned at his words, now on a quest to prove your own point as you tried to ignore the stinging beginning to set in.

“I can t-take it.” You huffed, a shiver running down your spine as he reached upwards and palmed your breast. He gave the supple flesh a gentle squeeze, his eyes closing in bliss as he let himself slip out of the persona he had created.

“Being so good for me—just a bit longer now.” He whispered, his voice far away as his eyes settled over your face once more. “Bloody hell, Y/N.” he groaned, his forehead creasing as his eyebrows furrowed together. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

He slipped his hand between your legs, his thumb landing atop your clit. He traced slow circles, knowing you were a bit further behind him and unwilling to climax without giving you at least one more. He could see how tired you were, but it did not deter him from his commitment to pleasing you.

“I love you, Fred.” You whispered, softened entirely by the sweet look in his eyes. All of his previous anger fled, leaving him just as the boy you’d fallen so hopelessly for.

“I love you, sweetheart.” He hummed, his hips stuttering and his stature faltering. “Give me one more, yeah? I know you can do it.” And he was right, your entire body was ablaze with another orgasm much more powerful than the last two.

“Together?” You gasped, reaching up and settling your palm on his cheek.

“Yeah? You want to cum with me?” He encouraged your train of thought. “Want me to fill that pretty cunt? Really show you who you belong to?”

“Fuck yes, please.” You cried, your fingertips tangling in the locks of hair hanging over his ears. Your walls clenched around him, drawing him in and effortlessly finishing what you had started.

You felt his hips stall, a low growl leaving his lips as he pulled you down on him one last time. He managed to whisper your name as he spilled his release into you, the feeling of him filling you completely sending you spiraling on your own accord. You let out a defeated sigh, the tail end of it turning into a whine as your body went rigid. Your nails scratched at the skin of his arm, your hand on him the only thing keeping you tied to earth instead of floating up and through the clouds.

The both of you rode the high together, euphoria infiltrating every nerve in both of your bodies as he leaned down towards you. Ever so gently, he laid his head on your chest, which was still heaving as you tried to catch up from the lack of oxygen. He placed a plethora of small kisses against the warm skin, his eyes fluttering closed as he appreciated the comfort that came with your company.

Silence hung heavy between you for a few moments, neither of you sure where to go from there. You were still strung out on bliss, barely remembering what got the two of you in the position until he spoke again.

“M’sorry, sweetheart.” His voice barely broke through the room, so timid and shy that you almost missed it completely. “I know you’d never do that. Just got in my head, I s’pose.”

“I… I get it.” You sighed, twisting a lock of his hair. “If I walked in on that, after us being so.. you know. I’d likely feel it too.” You confessed. “I was upset that we had to cancel dinner. I am upset, but not at you.” You tried your best to explain yourself despite exhaustion eating away at your mind. “I’m just upset because I miss you. You’re so busy now, and I’m happy for you, really, but I miss you too.”

“You think I was bloody happy about it?” Fred chuckled, the tip of his fingers tracing shapes into your skin. “I’d much rather be here, with you.” At that, you relaxed completely, understanding that you had gotten too far into your own head. “It’s my favorite place to be. Always has been.”

“Mine too, Fred.” You hummed, smiling softly at the thought.

“I reckon I was a bit jealous, ‘specially at the thought of you and George spending so much time with each other. Would rather it be me, you know, sitting at the shop and laughing with you all night… taking you out for dinner… loving you.” Another gentle kiss was placed to your chest, just before he looked up to meet your eyes. The soft, warm, familiar sight made you feel at ease. He was back to being your Fred, the one you missed all along.

“Darling, you have nothing to be jealous about.” You promised, smiling as he placed a quick peck on your lips. “Though, if it means we get to have brilliant sex like that, by all means do what you have to do.” You explained. “Bloody brilliant, at that.” Without any further words, the two of you descended into a fit of laughter and the clouds that previously hung above your head seemingly cleared in an instant, easily proving to him there was really never a need to worry at all.

[rainydayathogwarts]

creepy crawlers - neville longbottom

summary: your usually calm and composed front breaks in herbology, but neville comes to the rescue wc: 0.8k+ divider by @bloodibambiidoll

Whilst slytherins made up some of the smartest students at Hogwarts, there was one thing every student knew: slytherins were notoriously bad at herbology. People didn’t usually get live examples of why slytherins so often ended up with unusually low grades in the subject, but it was a silent understanding that the most intelligent slytherins somehow all wound up with herbology tutors.

Neville truly felt empathy for you, watching the neutral expression on your face, your throat subtly bobbing with a gulp as Professor Sprout warned you about leaves that may ‘crawl on you’. The boy had learned from past tutoring sessions with you that you loved plants, as long as they didn’t scream or move. So, nothing magical.

Coincidentally, Neville ends up working with his plant facing your work station, so he can see every pull of your eyebrows into a tight furrow, the rest of your face relaxed as you try to maintain your composed front. You’ve always had a good reputation: smart, hardworking, calm. And you weren’t about to lose it over a plant.

Well.

It wasn’t even ten minutes into the practical that a scream tore through the greenhouse. You flinched away from the plant, and Neville watched with a cringe as three leaves crawled up your arm with their tiny, wormy legs, immediately detaching from the plant’s stem. A look of terror was painted on your face as the animated leaves disappeared over your shoulder to run down your back. Arching your back to try and separate yourself from the disgusting creatures, you shrieked at Pansy to “Get it off me!”

A couple of gryffindors chuckled quietly whilst the others watched with wide eyes as you grabbed your wand, preparing to hex yourself in order to get rid of the creatures on your back. From the front of the greenhouse, Professor Sprout held an annoyed yet amused expression, waiting to see how you’ll proceed. At the sight of you pointing your wand at your back, she pushed herself off her desk, approaching you with arms out in a silent warning.

But somebody else had beaten her to it.

Neville quickly trotted around the large table, his hand wrapping around the wrist that held your wand. “Woah, I’ll get them, don’t worry.” He mumbled to you quietly, and you eagerly spun around so your back faced him. You finally started taking deep breaths at the reassurance of Neville finally taking the little critters off you. Neville put a hand on your shoulder, and you turned just in time to see him with his palm open above the pot, the leaves crawling off his hand and into the soil below. Clearing your throat, you thanked softly Neville before scanning the rest of your classmates, a threatening glare on your face before you looked down at the pot, softly pushing it away from you and crossing your arms.

You missed the fond smile Neville shot you, but Hermione — previously stood next to Neville — didn’t. She hummed quietly as the boy returned to his spot, elbowing his side gently. Neville glanced up at her and she widened her eyes at him expectantly. Neville’s face flushed with a shy blush and he looked away, taking his gloves off as Professor Sprout announced the end of class.

Neville stayed back, pretending to take time packing his things so he could exit the class with you. He ignored the friends who surrounded you, instead calling out your name and asking “You okay?” You laughed half-heartedly, a shy smile on your face. “So I might need a couple more tutoring sessions.” You said, stopping just below a large tree, casting a dark shadow over you and the boy.

“What happened in there was not your fault.”

“Well, not according to Sprout.”

“Is she the expert?” His confident words had a surprised laugh bubbling in your chest and you shook your head, sighing amusedly. “No, she is not the expert. Not when you’re in the room.”

Neville cleared this throat, clearly not expecting you to agree with him — and certainly not that compliment. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a hand raising to rub the back of his neck. “Well, you know, the expert wouldn’t mind having more tutoring sessions with you. And, just hanging out with you otherwise?” The uncertainty on Neville’s face nearly had you giggling, but you just readjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder. “I like confidence on you, Nev.” You told him, leaning forward to press a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll see you in the courtyard after classes?” You called out, already turning to walk away.

Neville stood silently, swallowing thickly before turning around to scan his surroundings, checking if anybody had seen your exchange or if he was hallucinating. But there was still a figure standing in the greenhouse, a satisfied smile on her face. Professor Sprout waved at Neville as he began to walk away.

taglist: @ravisinghs-wife, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl, @rory-cakes

[isaacarellanesismyhusband]

the hp boys help you calm down

pair: Harry Potter x reader | Ron Weasley x reader | Draco Malfoy x reader | Neville Longbottom x reader | Cedric Diggory x reader | Fred Weasley x reader | George Weasley x reader | Oliver Wood x reader

summery: the hp boys find y/n (she/her) crying/hipper ventilating

mastelist | navigation

❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

Harry Potter

Harry finds you on the floor of an empty classroom, gasping for breath, and his heart drops. He immediately kneels beside you, his hand gently resting on your shoulder. His voice is soft, full of concern. "Just breathe with me, okay?" he says, his green eyes locking with yours. You nod, though tears still threaten to spill. He takes slow, deep breaths, showing you the rhythm to follow. "In... and out. Nice and easy." You focus on his calm presence, mirroring his breaths. Harry doesn’t rush you or overwhelm you with questions; he just stays there, offering his steady support until your breathing evens out and the panic fades.

Ron Weasley

Ron isn’t used to seeing you like this, panicked and struggling for breath. It makes his stomach twist, but he doesn’t hesitate. He crouches down, his voice uncharacteristically soft, trying to ground you. "Hey, hey, I’m here. Just breathe with me, okay?" Your fingers clutch his sleeve, and he holds onto your hand, offering a solid anchor. Ron starts breathing deeply, exaggerated and slow so you can follow along. "That’s it. We’ve got this." Though he's a bit nervous himself, Ron stays focused on you, never letting go of your hand until he sees the tension ease from your face and your breathing return to normal.

Draco Malfoy

Draco’s face pales when he finds you hyperventilating in the hallway, but he doesn’t let fear take over. He sits beside you on the cold floor, one arm wrapping around your shoulders. "Look at me. Just breathe with me, okay?" His tone is firm but gentle, trying to guide you through it. You nod shakily, your breaths still uneven. Draco starts to breathe slowly, leaning in close so you can feel his calm rhythm. "You’re safe. I’m right here." He keeps his voice low and soothing, staying with you until your breathing begins to mimic his, the weight of the panic lifting.

Neville Longbottom

Neville finds you on the floor of the greenhouse, your breaths coming too fast, and it breaks his heart to see you like this. Without a second thought, he kneels down and gently takes your hands in his. "Just breathe with me, okay?" he whispers, his voice full of concern but steady. You meet his eyes, and even though panic still grips your chest, his presence is calming. He breathes slowly, guiding you through the rhythm. "In and out, just like that. You’re doing great." Neville’s calm energy helps ground you, and soon, the tightness in your chest begins to loosen, your breaths syncing with his.

Fred Weasley

Fred’s usual playfulness is gone the moment he finds you in distress, your breath coming too fast. Without hesitation, he crouches down beside you, placing a hand on your back. "Hey, love, just breathe with me, okay?" His voice is soft but filled with determination. You nod, clutching his sleeve as if it’s a lifeline. Fred begins to take exaggerated, slow breaths, his eyes never leaving yours. "In through the nose, out through the mouth. You’ve got this." His steady presence and the warmth of his hand help calm you, and before long, your breathing slows, the panic fading away with Fred right beside you.

George Weasley

George's heart clenches when he finds you sitting on the floor, struggling to catch your breath. He kneels down immediately, brushing your hair back gently. "Hey, love, just breathe with me, okay?" His voice is soft but clear, trying to cut through the haze of panic. You give him a shaky nod, your hand trembling as it reaches for his. George holds it tightly, starting to breathe in slow, deliberate patterns. "In... and out. Nice and slow." With his calm reassurance and his thumb gently rubbing your hand, you start to focus on his rhythm, your breathing finally slowing to match his.

Cedric Diggory

Cedric’s heart skips a beat when he finds you in the corridor, panicked and hyperventilating. He doesn’t hesitate, kneeling beside you and cupping your face gently. "Hey, look at me. Just breathe with me, okay?" His voice is calm and steady, his touch soft. You manage a nod, though the panic still grips you. Cedric begins to breathe slowly, showing you the rhythm to follow. "In through the nose, out through the mouth. That’s it. You’re doing great." His unwavering patience and soft encouragement keep you grounded, and soon, the tension in your chest starts to release as your breathing calms in time with his.

Oliver Wood

Oliver feels his chest tighten when he finds you on the floor of the Quidditch stands, gasping for breath. Without hesitation, he kneels down beside you, his voice gentle but firm. "Hey, breathe with me, okay? Just focus on me." You nod shakily, eyes wide with panic, and Oliver takes your hand in his, grounding you. He starts breathing slowly and deeply, making sure you can see and feel his calm presence. "In... and out. Nice and easy." His strength and steady encouragement help guide you back, your breathing slowing as you mirror his calm rhythm. Oliver stays by your side, reassuring you until the panic fully subsides.

[nikholascr0w]

The last family photo taken of the Longbottoms before tragedy struck

This is actually a tiny piece of a way bigger drawing but since I'm still working on it I thought l'd share this now :]

[iris-neptunus]

TW: self-harm implications 

Neville Longbottom who is stupidly nervous when he sees the name Scorpius Malfoy on the list of student enrollments. I mean he’s a teacher now - and a war hero - and a former auror for christs sake. But he still has this dumb paranoia that Malfoy will walk into his classroom with the his fathers scowl and upturned nose, and he will immediately be reduced to an anxious 11-year-old. 

Neville Longbottom who is quite relieved when the boy is the exact opposite of his father. Sure, he’s inherited the same platinum blonde hair, but none of the entitlement or arrogance. His quite demeanor and gentleness make it clear that Scorpius Malfoy has his mother’s nature. 

Neville Longbottom who is chuffed everytime Scorpius Malfoy shows up to class fifteen minutes early, vibrating with excitement. Who finds himself looking forward to third period Wednesday, just because it means seeing the way Scorpius Malfoy’s face lights up after a new plant is introduced. 

Neville Longbottom who tries to not get too worried as Scorpius’ face becomes gaunt and his skin sickly pale. Who abandons the lesson for independent study when Scorpius falls asleep, because he doesn’t want is lecture to disturb Scorpius’ nap. Neville Longbottom who maybe overlooks a few missing assignments after learning of Astoria’s deteriorating health. After all, he would do the same for any other student. 

Neville Longbottom who calls out Neville’s name in the attendence, and for the first time hears nothing in response. There’s many reasonable explanations for Scorpius’ absence, after all, mono has been spreading through the school, but some part of him just knows. Astoria is dead. 

Neville Longbottom who doesn’t see much of Scorpius that semester, as he keeps skipping class. 

Neville Longbottom who learns from Hannah that Scorpius has been in and out of the hospital ward for “acciendental” injuries. 

Neville Longbottom who starts giving Scorpius detentions for shwoing up to class. 

Neville Longbottom who spends hours everyday after school gardening in the greenhouse with Scorpius, as “punishment”. Sometimes they talk, conversation flowing due to their shared fascination with magical plants.  Sometimes they work in comfortable silence. 

Neville Longbottom who struggles to find any reason to give Scorpius detention, until one day in sixth year, when Scorpius walks into the greenhouse  and Neville has to begrungingly remind him that they do not actually have detention this afternoon, as scorpius has been on perfect behaviour. 

Scorpius Malfoy who laughs and takes out gardening tools. 

Neville Longbottom who never had a son, but if he did have a son, he would hope that son would be just like Scorpius. 

Neville Longbottom who tells Scorpius exactly that the day Scorpius graduations for Hogwarts. 

[yupthisisshe]

For What It’s He’s Worth - Neville x gn! Reader

A/n: warning - negative self-talk (Neville talks badly about himself but reader quickly tells him how wrong he is); gender neutral reader; reader and Neville are not dating but reader is in love with Neville (they are def mutually pining in my head but reader doesn't officially know that in this piece and its not really hinted at on Neville's part); this is mostly just one poignant moment between the two and practically no other plot; its angsty fluff (I think?)

“But maybe that’s all I’m good for. Forgetting and being forgotten.” Neville says with such acceptance that your heart cracks in two because you can tell he has considered this too many times.

“No!” You exclaim, nearing a shout.

“[Y/n]…” he says quietly. Unsure where you are going with this, but understanding how heartfelt this moment is.

“I won't let you talk about yourself like that! I won't!” he was the melancholy one, but you were the one nearing tears.

“But it's true,” he says with the saddest smile you’ve ever seen. The tears became harder to hold back just looking at him. How can he believe this?!

“It’s not! You're not forgettable! Neville, you are so unforgettable that from the moment I saw you I've never been able to forget you! Not even for a moment!“ you couldn't tell if you were being hysterical but you didn't care. He needed to know, to truly understand that he was not forgettable. He was so much more than he gave himself credit for. You didn't care if you had to scream it from the astronomy tower or coddle him nightly while whispering it into his ear like it was the only words you knew besides “I love you.” Three words which you weren't sure you had the courage to say just yet, but you could tell him this: he. Was. Unforgettable. And nothing less.

“[Y/n]…” was all he could say. He didn’t know what to think. No one had ever said anything to him to indicate that he was anything but forgettable. Not everyone made him feel that he was, but no one had ever told him he was, in fact, unforgettable. He couldn’t believe it. Was he truly memorable after all?

Both of you stood there, unspeaking. Tears began to seep from your eyes. You couldn’t hold them back anymore. Neville still didn’t know what to think of himself, but he did know that he had to show you how much he appreciated your words and how much he appreciated you. He knew what it felt like to feel and be ignored and unheard. He never wanted you to feel that way. He rushed to embrace you and you returned the motion. The two of you remained that way for a while, not saying anything, but feeling it all.

From that night forward, whenever Neville felt forgettable, he remembered that moment with you, as well as all the other moments he has spent with you. He remembered you and the bond he shared with you and he knew: He was worth more than he gave himself credit for. He was not forgettable. Even if he didn’t feel it, in your eyes, he was indescribably amazing and utterly unforgettable. And as time went on, he not only knew this, but began to believe it, and to live and breathe with it as the truth. Because it was, and he could feel that now.

[mastermindmiko]

Request: Where reader is jealous of some girl who flirts ron. And ron and reader have passionate sex

Thank you so much for the request! I hope you don't mind, but I've left out the smutty parts because I feel uncomfortable writing them. Sorry it took so long.

Green eyed monster and green skin girl

Pairing: Ron Weasley + reader

word count: 1008

Summary: Lavender gets too close to your boyfriend

Warnings: jinxes, some sexual innuendos, y/n being kinda cruel, maybe some mistakes? noot proofread

Hey! If you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist.

Ron has always been a jealous person. Sometimes, it didn't even make sense why he was jealous. It had sprouted over years of insecurity and feeling like his brothers were better than him. I've always tried to reassure him and make sure that he felt loved.

What didn't make sense, though, was the fact that today, Ron wasn't jealous, I was. So when madame Sprout announced that Ron's partner was Lavender I was too busy fisting my pen in my palm and trying to ignore her obnoxious laughter than celebrating the fact that Neville was my partner which guaranteed me an O.

They were sitting in the seats a few feet in front of Neville and I, and after a few minutes, I couldn't resist the urge to glare at the back of Lavender's head.

Poor Neville was trying to explain something to me, but I couldn't help but fantasize about chopping off Lavender's long blonde hair or even better yet, setting her whole head on fire.

My blood was already boiling, but when Lavender let out a high-pitched giggle and decided to place her hands on my boyfriend's arm, I was seeing red. All I was thinking about was how after the lesson, I couldn't wait to give her a piece of my mind.

Suddenly, I didn't have to wait till the end of the lesson because her hair caught fire. She started screaming and shouting. There was chaos all around her, and I tried to ignore it as much as I could. I didn't know I was that angry.

"How could you do such a thing?" Hermione whispers, angrily from the chair behind me after madame Sprout poured water on Lavender's head, leaving her looking like a drowned rat. I shrug my shoulders and avoided her gaze, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Please! Everyone here noticed the way you wanted to stab her." Hermione scolded, and I scoffed at her (very true) insinuation. I said, "I did not want to stab her."

"You did, too. I stopped explaining ten minutes ago." Neville pipped in from beside me. I rolled my eyes and huffed. I turned back to find that Lavender's hair was intact and after a quick drying spell, she looked normal again.

Lavender continued her antics and pressed on my boyfriend's bicep, no doubt telling him how fit he was. Ron flushes and awkwardly shifts away from her. He looks back at me to find me glaring at both of them.

Lavender looks back at where Ron's looking and notices me. Her face turns to disgust. She looks me up and down, then scoffs, and she looks back to the front. I growl and try to claw at her from behind my table while Neville holds me back. Neville says, "You can't go to Azkaban for murder!"

"You're right, Neville." I say while straightening out my uniform before sitting down in the stool again. I grab my pen and whisper, "There are too many witnesses here anyway."

"What was that?"

"Nothing!" I reply, feigning innocence. Thankfully, the lesson is over in a few minutes. Neville and everyone else leaves the greenhouse. I wait, noticing how Lavender has my boyfriend cornered, talking to him about something idiotic.

Ron stops her mid sentence and rushes out of the greenhouse before she can catch him again. Lavender huffs and flips a bit of her hair over her shoulder. It was my moment, I slung my back over my shoulder, and as I walked towards her, I flick my wand to preform one of my favourite spells.

After it's done, I grin, satisfied. She's done packing when I reach her. I clear my throat and she looks at me. The give her a fake smile then say, "You should really know not to touch what isn't yours, especially since I know that you know that Ron isn't yours."

"What are you going to do if I don't?" Lavender replies with a hand on her hip. I smile, and head to the door, leaving the greenhouse, but not before replying, "You'll know."

Ron's waiting outside, fidgeting anxiously. I ignore him and walk a few steps towards the castle. Ron follows muttering, "I'm so sorry, I would never-"

"Relax, Ron. You were great, she, on the other hand...she'll get her punishment." I mutter the last part of my sentence. Ron looks confused. He asks, "What do you mean?"

A few laughs are heard and then a loud scream. I grin, knowing what happened. Ron looks back at the havoc that's occurring, and his eyes go wide. I can only imagine what he must be seeing, Lavender with green skin and hair. Ron looks back at me, eyes wide. Then, his face turns into what can only be described as incredibly smug.

"You're jealous." Ron says, and I look at him, mouth agape. I was, but no way I was telling him. I roll my eyes, but the blush on my cheeks betrays me. I huff, "You're insane."

"You're very jealous." Ron replies and lets out a chuckle at the end. I pout and start marching away from him. Ron wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me to his chest.

He presses his lips to mine and raises his hand to cradle my face. It's slow and passionate. I open my mouth, and he deepens the kiss. I feel butterflies in my stomach. He parts, voice significantly deeper, "You're very sexy when you're jealous, darling."

He trails his other hand and fidgets with the hem of my skirt. My eyes widen, and I look around to find no one noticing. Ron whispers into my ear, "How about...we go to my dorm, and I'll remind you how you're the only one for me."

He presses a long kiss to my lips again, but this time, it's filled with lust. A need grows inside me, and I can't help but let out a small moan when he pinches my waist. Ron doesn't waste any time taking us to his dorm.

a/n: I think you can guess what happens next. I hope this was good, its my first time writing a request, I hope I did it justice.

[btsbabe7]

November Prompt 5: Cuddle

Words: 401 | Pairing: Neville Longbottom x reader

You step into the warmth of your boyfriend’s room, freshly showered and clothed in your loose pajama shorts, cropped tank and long cardigan. You hadn’t expected dinner to turn into a sleepover, but when he’d finally worked up the nerves to ask after three nights of dinner together, you couldn’t say no.

A few candles are lit on top of his Herbology and Potions books that take up the entirety of his nightstand. His burgundy blankets are tossed back, revealing the golden sheets he was gifted with as a reward from Professor Sprout for his selection as Head Boy just before the break. And he sits against his wooden headboard, a plaid brown shirt clinging to his newly discovered muscles, his brown hair combed perfectly across his head, and his green eyes on you in the dim light.

You slowly waltz towards the bed, smiling as he readjusts under the golden sheets to make room for you.

“What about the candles?” You ask while eyeing them in proximity to his blankets.

“They’re flameless,” Neville reassures before you climb next to him.

You hum in amazement, only used to the flaming candles that hung overhead in The Great Room back at school.

“Thanks for dinner and for letting me stay.”

He grins nervously, taking your hand in his before giving it a small squeeze. You can tell he’s nervous again. You know it’s been hard for him to return home during the break with the recent passing of his parents, let alone letting someone else in afterwards.

“Nev,” you breathe and thumb over his grasp before leaning into his shoulder.

His head leans against your damp hair and you can feel him trembling against you. He’s never cried in your presence, but you’ve caught him more teary eyed in the recent days. And you react in the same way you’d want if the roles were reversed; you sit up and wrap your arms around him instead.

Neville sinks down under the weight of the burgundy blankets and cuddles against your waist, wrapping his arms around you as his tears burn against the bare flesh of your thighs.

“I’m here for you, always. I promise you don’t have to do this alone,” you whisper while gently stroking your fingertips through his course hair until his sobbing fades into soft sniffles, then into gentle snores that eventually lull you to sleep against his headboard.

Please be sure to check out my other latest fics:

⚡︎ November Prompt Challenge (days 1-30)

⚡︎ For You Always - reader x Snape

~ Navi: masterlist (all fandoms) & (bts imagines/drabbles)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction, but please don’t copy! Written purely for fun :) Please only repost to other socials w/my permission and credit! Reblogging w/credit is fine. Thank you! ♡

[bunbunbl0gs]

narissa malfoy🤍

Masterlist

Harry Potter masterlist

Tag list : @cham9ions

@rosieandthethorns @ivy-34

@watercolorskyy