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moon-lit-petal · 4 months ago

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Believe Me

Neville Longbottom x Fem!Beauxbatons!Reader

Summary: 5 times Dean and Seamus don't believe Neville and the time He proved them wrong.

Warning: not proof read, possibly not so nice friends, Neville being totally in love.

Word Count: 5k

Notes: this takes place when they are much older, I'd like to think that moldy V doesn't exist and the triwizard tournament happens much later in their hogwarts career :) I tried to keep it as ambiguous

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The Gryffindor common room was a cozy haven, illuminated by the flickering flames of the fireplace that cast warm shadows on the maroon and gold walls. A rowdy bunch of Gryffindors lounged comfortably on the oversized sofas, laughter and chatter filling the air as they reminisced about their latest escapades at Hogwarts.

"Honestly," Ron said, a frown spreading across his face, "I don’t know what’s worse—having a crush or trying to figure out what to say when you actually talk to them!"

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "Tell me about it. I thought I was doing well with Cho until I accidentally called her 'Hermione' in the middle of a conversation!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, a playful smirk on her lips. "That’s not going to help your case, Harry."

The boys erupted into laughter, the sound bouncing off the stone walls. Dean leaned back, his arms behind his head, a hint of frustration in his voice. "I can’t even get a proper conversation going. It’s like every time I try to flirt, I end up sounding like a complete idiot."

Seamus snickered. "Remember when you tried to impress that girl from Slytherin with your 'amazing' Quidditch skills? You barely made it through the first sentence!"

"That was one time!" Dean retorted, though he couldn’t suppress a sheepish grin.

Just then, Neville spoke up with hesitant confidence.

"I mean, dating isn't that hard when you're with the right person."

The room fell silent, a few eyebrows raised in curiosity. Ron snorted, breaking the stillness. "No offense, Neville, but what do you know about dating? You've never had a girlfriend before, right?"

With a half-hearted shrug and a giddy smile, he looks at his friends. “Well actually, I've been dating this girl for a little while now.”

"Wait, who is she?" Harry asked, genuinely curious.

"She’s from Beauxbatons!" Neville said, his voice gaining confidence. "Her name is Y/N. She’s really nice, we met over the summer when she was visiting some family”"

Seamus squinted skeptically. "A Beauxbatons girl? Come on, Neville, that sounds a bit too good to be true."

Hermione frowned, clearly disapproving of the boys’ reactions. "Guys, come on you shouldn't just dismiss him, I'm sure she's a nice girl Neville." She gave him a small smile, Neville could tell she too, didn't believe him

Ginny crossed her arms and chimed in. "Exactly. Just because you lot can’t seem to get dates doesn’t mean you should tear him down."

Ron raised his hands in mock surrender. "I’m not tearing him down! I’m just saying it’s hard to believe. Neville and a girl from Beauxbatons?"

Neville’s face turned a shade of crimson. "I’m serious! We’ve been writing to each other, and she even sent me a few drawings, she does portraits and sent one shed done of herself"

Laughter erupted around the room, the sound mingling with Neville’s embarrassed smile.

Hermione’s expression softened. "That sounds just lovely Neville. Maybe you could show us next time?"

Neville blushed even deeper. "I’m planning to! Well, I was… but they fell in the black lake the other day and got ruined..”

Seamus grinned. "Well, that's just a bloody shame, isn't it?”

"I swear! I'm not lying!!" Neville replied, sounding both desperate for someone to believe him and annoyed they would think he'd lie about something like this, to begin with.

Ginny smirked. "It's ok Neville, we believe you really."

The boys continued their good-natured teasing, but Hermione and Ginny shot them looks that conveyed they should ease off. Gradually, the teasing softened, and Hermione quickly sought to change the subject.

"So, what about that new potion Professor Snape was on about?" she suggested, her smile brightening, and at the mention of Professor Snape everyone groaned out a whine.

The conversation shifted effortlessly as they delved into tales of misadventures in Potions class, leaving the topic of girlfriends behind, at least for the moment. Laughter filled the room once more, but Neville couldn’t help but shake his head at his friends. He knows they mean well, and as long as he knows he's telling the truth, then they'd eat their words eventually

----------

The greenhouses were buzzing with the sound of shovels scraping soil and the occasional screech from a particularly unruly Mandrake. Neville Longbottom, expertly handling a Venomous Tentacula with gloved hands, chatted absently with Ron as they worked together.

“I was talking to Y/N the other day,” Neville said, his tone casual as he patted down the soil around the plant. “She gave me some really good advice on how to deal with these sorts of plants. Apparently, they grow some massive ones in the Beauxbatons greenhouses.”

Ron looked up from his struggle with his own plant. “Oh yeah? Beauxbatons, right?”

Neville nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, she said they have this whole section dedicated to magical flora that we don’t even study here. She told me about this method they use to calm them down, so they don’t snap at you when you get close.”

Hermione overheard and looked over, curiosity piqued. “Really? I’d love to read up on that. Beauxbatons must have a fantastic Herbology program. Did she mention any specific techniques?”

Neville smiled. “Yeah, something about using lavender essence mixed with dragon dung fertilizer. It keeps them relaxed but still healthy. I’m thinking about trying it on one of the plants here.”

Ron gave him a sideways glance, his expression caught between amusement and doubt. “You’ve got an answer for everything these days, don’t you, Neville? Y/N’s always helping you out, eh?”

“Well, she knows a lot about Herbology,” Neville said earnestly. “We talk about plants all the time.”

Harry, busy with his own re-potting, chuckled softly. “Sounds like you two have a lot in common, Neville. It’s nice to have someone who shares your interests.”

Hermione nodded in agreement. “Exactly. And Beauxbatons is known for their magical plants, so it’s not surprising she’d know a lot. What else has she taught you?”

Before Neville could respond, Seamus, who was struggling with his own plant a few tables away, joined the conversation. “Wait a minute, are we still talking about the mysterious Beauxbatons girlfriend? You’ve got to admit, Neville, it sounds a bit too good to be true. A French girl who’s an expert in magical plants? What are the odds?”

Dean snorted in amusement. “Yeah, Neville, no offense, but you talk about her like she’s perfect. She’s beautiful, smart, loves Herbology… I’m starting to think you’ve been reading too many romance novels.”

Neville flushed, but he shook his head. “No, it’s not like that. She’s real, I promise. She just… understands me. We have a lot in common.”

Ron patted Neville on the back, grinning. “We believe you, mate. It’s just hard to imagine someone who’s basically a Herbology goddess and happens to be your girlfriend. We’ll believe it when we see her.”

Harry, who had been silent for most of the exchange, gave Neville an encouraging smile. “Well, I’m sure she’s real, Neville. It’d be great to meet her one day.”

Seamus, however, couldn’t resist another quip. “Maybe she’ll show up with a rare magical plant to prove it, eh?”

Neville forced a smile but didn’t push the subject further. He knew they didn’t mean to be harsh, but it was clear that, despite their friendly tones, his friends still had their doubts about Y/N. He returned to his work, focusing on the plants.

----------

It was a typical morning in the Great Hall, sunlight streaming through the tall enchanted windows, casting golden beams across the long tables filled with Hogwarts students enjoying their breakfast. The scent of fresh bread, eggs, and pumpkin juice filled the air. Chatter echoed from all sides, students murmuring about Quidditch matches, homework assignments, and weekend plans.

Neville sat at the Gryffindor table, absently pushing his scrambled eggs around his plate. His thoughts were far from breakfast. He had been waiting for weeks now—hoping for a letter or, even better, a package from Y/N.. Their relationship had been going strong, though the distance often made it difficult. But lately, he'd mentioned her so many times that his friends had begun to give him knowing looks, and their teasing, though lighthearted, always made him feel a little self-conscious.

“Oi, Neville! You alright, mate?” Seamus Finnigan asked, nudging him gently. “You’ve been staring at those eggs for ten minutes. Something on your mind?”

Neville smiled faintly, trying to shake off his nervous anticipation. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… waiting for the post.”

At that moment, as if on cue, the familiar sound of wings fluttering through the air filled the hall. Dozens of owls soared through the enchanted ceiling, delivering letters and parcels to their waiting owners. Neville’s heart raced as he scanned the sea of wings, hoping to see something special. And then he saw it—a stunning, silvery owl with long, elegant wings gliding toward him, catching the light as it flew. It was unlike any owl he’d ever seen at Hogwarts.

The owl swooped down gracefully, landing right in front of Neville with a soft hoot. In its talons was a thick package wrapped in delicate lavender-colored paper, sealed with the distinctive wax crest of Beauxbatons. Neville’s eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, he just stared at the package in his lap, hardly believing it.

“Blimey, Neville,” Ron said from across the table, his eyebrows raised. “That’s a fancy delivery.”

“Is that… from your girlfriend?” Hermione asked, looking at the package curiously.

Neville nodded, trying not to look too pleased. “Yeah, it’s from Y/N.”

His friends exchanged glances, but there wasn’t any teasing, just mild surprise. Neville had spoken about Y/N often, but she seemed almost like a mythical figure to them—this beautiful, mysterious girl from France whom none of them had ever met.

“That’s some owl she’s got,” Dean commented, leaning over to get a better look at the package. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one like that.”

Neville nodded again, feeling a bit self-conscious under their gazes. “She mentioned it once. Said it’s a rare breed from France. She’s… pretty proud of it.”

Seamus grinned. “Well, go on then, mate. Open it! Let’s see what she’s sent you.”

Neville hesitated for a moment, feeling all eyes on him. He knew they weren’t trying to be skeptical or mean, but he could sense the curiosity behind their words. His friends had never outright doubted him, but it was clear that after months of hearing about Y/N and not seeing any proof, they were a bit… unsure. Still, there was no mockery in their faces—just genuine interest.

With a deep breath, Neville carefully broke the wax seal and unwrapped the package. Inside was a beautifully embroidered scarf in the deep blue and silver colors of Beauxbatons, along with a folded letter. The scarf was soft, clearly handmade, and it smelled faintly of lavender.

“Wow,” Hermione said, leaning in closer. “That’s lovely, Neville. She made this for you?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Neville said quietly, running his fingers over the delicate stitches. “She’s been learning how to embroider. I, um… mentioned I needed a new scarf for winter, and I guess she remembered.”

Ron nodded appreciatively. “That’s impressive. Not many people make things like this anymore.”

Harry smiled from beside him. “Looks like she really cares about you, Neville.”

Neville smiled, feeling a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the scarf. It felt good to hear that—not just because it was true, but because it seemed like, for once, his friends weren’t doubting him.

But then Seamus, ever the joker, raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You’ve got to admit, though, Neville—it’s almost too perfect. A hand-embroidered scarf? From a Beauxbatons girl who sends you packages by a rare French owl? It’s like something out of a storybook.”

Neville laughed, shaking his head. “I know it sounds a bit… unbelievable, but I swear it’s true. She’s real.”

Dean, who had been eyeing the letter, grinned. “Well, if she keeps sending you things like this, we’ll start believing in miracles.”

Hermione shot Dean a disapproving look, but Neville chuckled along with the others. It wasn’t mean-spirited—they were just having fun. He didn’t mind the light teasing, especially now that he had proof to show them. And even if they found it hard to believe, they weren’t questioning him outright, just amused at the unlikely situation.

“That’ll be the day,” Ron said with a grin, though he quickly added, “But hey, She sounds great.”

Neville folded the scarf carefully and slipped it into his bag, feeling a little lighter. “She is.”

As the conversation shifted back to Quidditch and schoolwork, Neville glanced down at the unopened letter in his hands. He could read it later, in private. For now, he felt content knowing that, whether his friends believed him or not, Y/N was real—and she cared about him enough to send something as special as this.

Even if they still found it hard to imagine, that was enough for Neville. And maybe, just maybe, one day soon, his friends would get to meet her and see for themselves that she wasn’t just a figment of his imagination. But until then, he’d hold on to the scarf, the letter, and the quiet certainty that she was thinking of him as much as he was thinking of her.

----------

The Gryffindor common room was quieter than usual, the usual hustle and bustle replaced with a mellow atmosphere as the school year drew to a close. Most of the students had already packed their things, their trunks neatly stacked and waiting by the fireplace. The chairs around the room were occupied by groups of friends chatting, playing games, or simply lounging around, savoring the last few moments before heading home for the summer.

Neville sat with Seamus, Dean, and a couple of other Gryffindors near the windows, gazing out at the grounds. The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow on the stone walls.

“I can't believe the year’s over already,” Dean said, leaning back in his chair. “Feels like we were just getting back from Christmas break.”

“Yeah, crazy,” Seamus agreed, his tone relaxed. “But I’m not going to miss the essays.”

Neville, absently fiddling with his wand, smiled. “I was telling Y/N about how busy it’s been. She’s had a lot going on too. The end of the year at Beauxbatons is apparently just as hectic as here.”

Seamus shot him a quick glance, his expression neutral, though Dean exchanged a brief look with him. “Y/N, huh?” Seamus said, not missing a beat. “Sounds like she’s got it rough over there.”

Neville nodded, completely unaware of Seamus’s inner skepticism. “Yeah, she’s been swamped. But we’re planning to meet up over the summer. She might even come to England for a bit.”

“That’s great, mate,” Dean chimed in, his voice casual though he raised his eyebrows slightly.

Neville stood up suddenly as if remembering something important. “Oh no! I forgot to pack my Astrronomy textbooks. I’ll be right back.”

With that, he hurried off to his dorm room, leaving the rest of them sitting there. The moment Neville was out of earshot, Seamus turned to the others with an exaggerated sigh.

“Alright,” Seamus said, leaning forward. “I like Neville, you all know that, but I’m telling you, there is no way Y/N exists.”

Dean grinned, leaning in as well. “You’re still stuck on that?”

Seamus shrugged, but the look on his face said he was convinced. “Come on, Dean. You’ve heard him talk about her for months—perfect French girlfriend from Beauxbatons who just happens to love magical plants as much as he does? I mean, sure, it could be true, but she’s never sent a picture, she’s never visited Hogwarts, and the only proof we’ve got are a few letters that could be from anyone.”

One of the younger Gryffindors, who had been listening in, piped up. “So, you think Neville’s lying? He doesn’t seem like the type to make something like that up.”

Seamus shook his head quickly. “No, I don’t think he’s lying, not really. I think he believes it. But I’m just saying—it sounds like he’s being catfished. It’s not like he’s met her in person since they started writing. For all we know, it could be some bloke from Durmstrang having a laugh.”

Dean chuckled. “You reckon someone’s really going that far to mess with Neville? That’s pretty dedicated.”

Seamus leaned back, his arms crossed. “Look, I’m not trying to be mean. I just don’t think she’s real. Or if she is, maybe she’s not exactly what Neville thinks. It’s just a bit… convenient, isn’t it? All these grand stories, but no one’s ever seen her.”

One of the girls nearby, who had been half-listening, frowned. “But Neville doesn’t seem like he’s making it up. He talks about her like she’s the real deal.”

“I know, that’s what makes me feel bad about doubting him,” Seamus admitted. “But you’ve got to admit it’s a bit suspicious. Every time she’s supposed to visit, something comes up. She’s ‘too busy,’ or ‘there’s something going on at Beauxbatons.’ It’s been almost a year and still no sign of her.”

Dean raised a hand to stop Seamus. “Alright, alright. But what if she is real and just… busy?”

Seamus snorted softly, though his tone was lighter. “Then she’s the busiest girlfriend in the world. Look, I’m not saying I’d tell Neville to his face that I don’t believe her. The poor bloke would be crushed. But between us… I just don’t see it.”

There was a brief lull in the conversation, and Seamus��s words hung in the air. The group seemed divided—some more skeptical, others wanting to believe in Neville’s story.

“Maybe she’ll surprise us,” one of the younger students said. “Maybe she’ll show up next year and you’ll all feel silly.”

Seamus grinned, though his expression remained doubtful. “If she shows up, I’ll buy Neville a drink. But until then… I’m betting we’re in for another year of stories about a girl we’ll never meet.”

As they laughed and talked, the door to the boys’ dormitory creaked open, and Neville came back down the stairs, his arms full of books.

“Found them,” Neville said, smiling as he returned to his spot by the window. “I almost forgot the Mooncalf studies Y/N recommended too.”

Seamus caught Dean’s eye but quickly smiled at Neville. “Glad you found everything, mate. All set for the summer, then?”

“Yeah,” Neville said, sitting down and looking a little wistful. “Just can’t wait to see her.”

Seamus nodded, his tone friendlier now. “Hope it all works out, Nev.”

As the conversation moved on to other things, the quiet skepticism lingered, but none of them had the heart to say anything to Neville directly. As much as they doubted Y/N’s existence, they couldn’t bring themselves to crush Neville’s enthusiasm. They just hoped, in their own way, that somehow, Y/N would turn out to be real after all.

----------

The Hogwarts Express rattled along the tracks, carrying its excited students back to school for another year. Laughter, chatter, and the occasional call of a vendor selling sweets filled the air as students reunited after the summer holiday, exchanging stories and catching up on the latest news.

In one of the compartments, Neville sat with Seamus, Dean, and a few other Gryffindors, a wide grin on his face as he animatedly recounted his summer adventures.

“… and then we went to this amazing garden in Kew! She couldn’t believe how many magical plants were hidden in plain sight. I’ve never seen her so excited,” Neville said, his eyes sparkling as he spoke about Y/N for the umpteenth time since they’d boarded the train.

Seamus leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, nodding along. “That sounds pretty great, Neville. So, you finally got to go on a proper date, huh?”

Neville beamed. “Yeah! We went on a few, actually. We had the best time. She was in London visiting her family for a couple of weeks, so we got to meet up almost every day.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, curious. “You said she was visiting family before, right? Didn’t she have plans to stay longer?”

“Yeah, she did,” Neville admitted, his tone dropping slightly, “but something came up. Her family had to leave earlier than expected, so she didn’t get to meet you guys like we’d planned.” He looked apologetic as he said it, clearly disappointed that his friends hadn’t been able to meet Y/N again.

“That’s too bad,” Dean said, sharing a glance with Seamus. “We were looking forward to it.”

“Yeah, me too,” Neville sighed, but then perked up again. “But we did take loads of pictures! I wanted to show you all, but… uh…” He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “She took the photos with her by accident when she left. We were using her camera, and she packed it with all her stuff.”

Seamus blinked, his expression carefully neutral. “So, no pictures?”

Neville shook his head, he saw the clear skepticism beneath Seamus’s question but brushed it off. “No, but she’s going to send them by owl as soon as she can. She promised. There were some really good ones too—us in front of the Leaky Cauldron, at Kew Gardens, and a few near the Tower of London. I can’t wait to show you all.”

Seamus exchanged another glance with Dean, a small smile tugging at his lips, though he kept it from looking too patronizing. “Sounds like it was a great time, mate.”

“Oh, it was,” Neville said earnestly. “Y/N’s amazing. We even talked about coming up with ways to visit more often during the year. Maybe meet up during the Hogsmeade weekends. I’m going to send her a letter as soon as we get back to Hogwarts.”

Seamus nodded along, though his smile faltered slightly. “Yeah, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Dean shifted in his seat, glancing out the window for a moment before leaning forward. “So, Neville, you said her family comes to London often, right? Does she have a lot of family here?”

“Her dad’s English,” Neville explained. “Her mum is French, so they stay over there most of the time but they come back to visit every summer, and sometimes during the holidays. That’s how we managed to spend so much time together.”

Dean nodded slowly, while Seamus leaned forward just a little. “And you didn’t think to borrow one picture, maybe a keepsake for yourself?” he asked lightly. There was no malice in his voice, but there was an unmistakable undertone of doubt.

Neville ignored it. “I didn’t need to. We’ve been writing so much, and she’s going to send the pictures soon. Besides, I’ve got her letters, and I brought back a few things we picked up together. Look.” He pulled out a small, intricately woven bracelet from his bag. “We got these matching bracelets from a little magical shop near Diagon Alley. Hers has a charm for luck, and mine’s for protection.”

Seamus studied the bracelet for a moment before leaning back. “That’s nice, Neville.”

Dean smiled at the bracelet, genuinely trying to be supportive. “Yeah, it looks great. You two must’ve had a good time.”

“We did,” Neville replied, relaxing now that he was surrounded by his friends. “She’s just… brilliant. I really wish you could’ve met her. I know you’d all get along.”

Seamus offered a friendly smile, though his eyes flickered with doubt. “Yeah, maybe next time, Neville.”

The compartment grew quiet for a moment, and the sound of the train clacking along the tracks filled the space. Outside, the countryside whizzed by in a blur of green fields and distant hills, and the feeling of excitement for the new school year was still palpable.

Dean, always the diplomat, broke the silence. “Well, I’m glad you had a good summer, Neville. Hopefully next time, the timing will work out better.”

Neville nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I’m sure it will. She really wants to meet you all. She’s heard so much about you.”

Seamus shot Dean a look, and Dean just shrugged, his face carefully neutral. No one wanted to say it, but the story about Y/N was starting to sound a bit too convenient—another summer gone by, another set of plans that didn’t quite line up. And now, no photos to show for it, either.

But despite their growing doubts, Seamus and Dean weren’t about to crush Neville’s enthusiasm. Not after he had spent the entire train ride practically glowing with happiness. Still, once Neville got up to stretch his legs and grab some snacks from the trolley, Seamus leaned toward Dean with a raised eyebrow.

“So… still no Y/N, huh?”

Dean chuckled quietly. “Still no Y/N.”

“I swear, if she’s real, I’ll eat my own shoe,” Seamus muttered under his breath. “Every time he gets close to introducing her, something comes up.”

Dean glanced out the window again before replying. “I don’t know, Seamus. Maybe she’s real, but there’s just bad timing. Or maybe…”

“Maybe she’s in his head,” Seamus finished, his tone soft but resigned. “I just don’t get how one person could have this much bad luck when it comes to us meeting her.”

Dean shook his head, a small smile on his lips. “At this point, I just hope for Neville’s sake that she’s real. You can see how much he cares about her.”

“Yeah,” Seamus sighed, leaning back in his seat. “I hope so too.”

When Neville returned with a handful of Chocolate Frogs and a Butterbeer, his smile was as bright as ever, blissfully unaware of the quiet conversation that had just passed between his friends. And as the Hogwarts Express continued its journey, his thoughts were already on the letters he’d be sending to Y/N once they arrived at school.

----------

The atmosphere in the Great Hall was buzzing with excitement. The start of a new school year always brought surprises, but this time, there was something different in the air. The students were seated at their house tables, eagerly awaiting the feast, when Professor Dumbledore rose from his seat to address the hall.

“Welcome, students, to another year at Hogwarts!” Dumbledore’s voice echoed throughout the room, immediately capturing everyone’s attention. “I am particularly pleased to announce that this year, we will be hosting a most extraordinary event… the Triwizard Tournament!”

A murmur spread through the hall, rippling with whispers and shocked expressions. Neville, seated at the Gryffindor table with Seamus, Dean, Harry, Hermione, and Ron, exchanged confused glances with the others.

“Triwizard Tournament?” Dean muttered. “That wasn’t in the usual announcements.”

“Yeah, didn’t see that coming,” Seamus added, leaning in to hear more.

Dumbledore continued, explaining the rich history of the tournament, how it had been revived, and the prestigious honor of being chosen as a champion. Then, with a wave of his hand, he motioned to the entrance of the hall.

“And now, may I introduce our esteemed guests from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and Durmstrang Institute.”

The heavy doors at the end of the hall swung open, and the students of Beauxbatons Academy entered. They moved with grace and poise that captivated everyone, wearing their sky-blue silk robes as they marched in perfect unison. Neville’s heart raced as he scanned the group, but he couldn’t spot Y/N among them.

“Who are they?” Harry asked, squinting to get a better look.

“I don’t know,” Hermione replied, intrigued. “But they look amazing.”

“They’re all so… elegant,” Ron said, trying to take it all in. “Do you think they’re all that good-looking?”

“Probably,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes playfully.

As the Beauxbatons students completed their entrance, Neville’s heart dropped when he didn’t see Y/N. Just when he thought he might be imagining things, she stepped forward, performing acrobatic flips and graceful spins, her hair flowing behind her like a cascade of river waves. She looked more stunning than Neville could ever have described.

“Bloody hell, who is that?” Dean whispered, eyes wide in disbelief.

Seamus was staring, frozen in place. “No way…”

When the introductions were done, Neville leaned closer to his friends. “That’s her! That’s Y/N!”

Harry raised an eyebrow, glancing between Neville and the group. “Wait, who’s Y/N? Which one?”

Neville pointed toward Y/N, who was beaming with joy alongside her classmates. “The one in the front! I didn’t know she was coming!”

The others turned to look, their expressions shifting from curiosity to disbelief. “No way!” Ron exclaimed, glancing at Neville. “You weren’t joking about her being real?”

Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. “She’s absolutely brilliant!”

Before anyone could say another word, a voice called out from across the hall.

“Neville!”

Neville’s head snapped up, and there she was, weaving through the crowd, her face lighting up when she spotted him. “Y/N!” he breathed.

The next thing he knew, Y/N was rushing toward him, a wide smile on her face. “Neville!” she called again, and in an instant, she was there, throwing her arms around him.

Without hesitation, she began planting kisses all over his face—on his cheeks, forehead, and nose—her laughter bubbling up as she clung to him. “I’ve missed you so much!” she said between kisses.

The entire Gryffindor table stared in stunned silence. Seamus’s mouth was hanging open, while Dean could only blink in disbelief. All around the hall, students who had been casually talking or laughing stopped to watch the unexpected display. Whispers started spreading like wildfire, but Neville didn’t care—he was too overjoyed, too caught up in the moment.

“Y/N!” Neville finally managed to say, his face flushed from the attention. “I—I missed you too! I didn’t know you were coming! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Y/N giggled and pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, her hands still resting on his shoulders. “I wanted to surprise you, silly. You should’ve seen your face when I came in!” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

Neville was too overwhelmed to respond properly. His heart felt like it was about to burst from happiness. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he said, grinning ear to ear.

“I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere,” Y/N said softly, wrapping her arms around him again in a tight hug.

The Gryffindor table was still frozen in place, watching the entire scene unfold with wide eyes. Seamus finally found his voice and leaned toward Dean, whispering, “Well… that is not what I expected at all...”

Dean shook his head in disbelief. “You’re not the only one, mate.”

Y/N finally pulled away from Neville, her smile never fading. She glanced around at his friends, who were still recovering from the shock. “You must be Neville’s friends,” she said brightly, offering them a cheerful wave. “It’s so nice to finally meet you all!”

“Y-Yeah, we’ve heard… a lot about you,” Dean stammered, offering a friendly, albeit awkward smile.

Y/N laughed, completely oblivious to the lingering disbelief. “I hope all good things!”

“Definitely,” Seamus managed to say, shooting Neville a look that was a mixture of awe and apology. “Welcome to Hogwarts, Y/N.”

As the rest of the Great Hall resumed their chatter, Neville stood there with Y/N by his side, his face glowing with pride. After a year of doubt, teasing, and skepticism, here she was—real, vibrant, and wonderful.

For once, Neville didn’t need to say anything. His friends finally believed him.

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hogwartseighthyear · 7 months ago

Text

wax paper

"your girl" series: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | (part 4)

(can be read as a standalone)

pairing: neville longbottom x fem!reader word count: 3.7k tags: rated G, house-neutral reader, fluff, established relationship, maybe a smidge of angst, no Y/N used summary: neville introduces you to his parents. note: cue me strolling in like it hasn't been over a year and a half since i last posted a fic. this is based on a request i lost a long time ago for something with neville's family (iirc). i might come back later and give it another edit since this was a bit hasty, but for now, enjoy and thanks for reading! (cross-posted here to AO3)

After spending the last several years living through an outright war, the months immediately following Voldemort’s demise were tinged with a sense of unreality.

You mourned for the lives lost and the destruction that had been wrought. You slept fitfully and replayed the worst moments of the Battle in your nightmares. Sudden, loud noises sent you diving to the ground with your wand in hand, reminding you of crackling spellfire, flashes of green light hurtling overhead, smoke in the air and screams ringing in your ears.

Yet, for every moment of grief and pain, there was hope and happiness in equal measure. Wizarding Britain was gradually reassembling. The Ministry was being gutted from the inside out, Aurors were hunting down wayward Death Eaters, repairs were underway at Hogwarts. For the first time in a long time, the future didn’t look so bleak.

And somehow, in the midst of it all, you’d started dating Neville Longbottom.

You’d both confessed your feelings just after the Battle had finished, when you and Neville finally managed to escape the cacophony of noise and emotion in the Great Hall and retreat to the quiet shores of the lake. The two of you were still singed and bloodied and covered in dirt, but it hadn’t mattered in the slightest. When you finally kissed him, it felt like coming home.

It was difficult to separate you and Neville that following summer. In all honesty, the amount of time you were spending together might have been excessive, if not bordering on codependent, but considering the hell you had just endured, neither of your families voiced any complaints. May, June, and July passed in a languid procession of warm afternoons in the back garden and hours of general lazing about around each other’s homes as you recuperated from, well, your whole adolescence.

You and Neville had already accepted Professor McGonagall’s offer to return to Hogwarts to properly complete your education, and while you were looking forward to it, you knew that it wouldn’t be easy. So, you greatly appreciated the chance to take a break from life before the fall term rolled around.

One day in early August, you were doing just that, lounging on the couch and reading a particularly interesting chapter in Dragon Species of Ancient Mesopotamia, when the fireplace whooshed with a burst of green flames. To your surprise, it was Neville who stepped through the Floo into your living room.

In a rare turn of events, you and Neville didn’t actually have plans to see each other until tomorrow. Today, he, Ginny, and Luna were scheduled to meet in Diagon Alley for an interview with Farida Wolff of the Daily Prophet, who was interested in writing an article on the student rebellion the three of them led during the Death Eaters’ rule over Hogwarts. Afterwards, Neville was planning on paying his parents a visit at St. Mungo’s; fetching money from his Gringotts vault; getting fitted at Madam Malkin’s for new robes; picking up treats for Seymour, the Longbottom family owl, at Eeylops Owl Emporium; then joining his gran in the evening for a belated birthday dinner with his great-uncle Algie and great-aunt Enid.

A glance at the clock told you that while Neville’s interview must have just wrapped up, he definitely hadn’t had time to finish the rest of his errands in downtown London already. There was no reason for him to stop by your place. And yet here he was, wearing a rather nervous expression.

“Hey. Is everything okay?” you asked, sitting upright, a worried frown quickly overtaking your face.

“Hi. Um. Yes,” Neville said haltingly.

“Are you sure?” you asked. “Did something happen during the interview?”

“No, no, the interview was fine.”

You waited for further explanation, but he remained silent.

“Neville?”

He dithered for a few more moments before taking a deep, steadying breath and finally looking at you.

“I was just about to go see my parents,” he said, standing a bit straighter, “and… I was wondering if… you’d like to come meet them?”

Your eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Neville said, this time with more conviction. “I know they don’t really— They can’t exactly, you know—” He cut himself off, his mouth twisting. “But. I’ve already told them about us, and it would mean a lot to me.”

“Okay,” you said, unable to keep the slight tremor out of your voice. “I’ll come. Of course I’ll come.”

Meeting your boyfriend’s parents for the first time was nerve-racking on principle, but meeting Neville’s parents was especially so, considering how fiercely guarded he was when it came to them.

He’d told you what happened to his mum and dad during the First War, but it had always been a sensitive topic. You remembered how agitated he’d been when his friends ran into them at St. Mungo’s a few Christmases ago. Neville was protective of his parents; he didn’t want anyone witnessing them in their vulnerable state. And yet here he was, asking you to meet them.

No pressure, right?

You smoothed your hands over your lap and looked down at your outfit: the soft, comfortable one you’d been lounging around in all day while you read. “Oh! I should change before we go. And fix my hair. Shit, wait, give me a few minutes,” you babbled as you stood from the couch, anxiety already churning in your stomach, but Neville caught you before you could rush past him.

“Love, you look fine,” he said.

“I look like I just rolled out of bed!”

You were too busy fretting over your appearance to notice the way Neville rolled his eyes, though his expression was still unmistakably fond. You refocused only when he put his hands on your shoulders and turned you to face him.

“You’re beautiful, I promise, but”—he stressed the word when you went to open your mouth again—“if it makes you feel better, I was going to suggest we Disillusion ourselves anyway.”

It took you a moment to catch on to his reasoning. “Oh,” you said with a sympathetic wince. “How bad was it this time?”

“At least ten different people asked for my autograph.” Neville kept his voice low, as if he were saying something scandalous. “I tried telling everyone I didn’t have a quill, but then some of them conjured quills for me, so I just signed what they asked. I felt like the world’s biggest prat!”

Fame was something Neville was still struggling to get used to. He’d been largely shielded from it these past few months, considering that the two of you had been living like hermits. But on the rare occasion he happened to wander out into public, there was almost always someone who recognized the Boy Who Killed Voldemort’s Snake.

“We’ll have to brainstorm some new excuses,” you said with a resolute nod.

Really, you should have remembered that magic exists when you came up with the quill idea, but to be fair, it was better than Neville’s plan to claim that he was sick with the highly-contagious doxy flu anytime a stranger tried to approach him.

After putting on a pair of shoes and casting your respective Disillusionment Charms, you followed Neville through the fireplace, Flooing directly into St. Mungo’s reception area.

The chaos inside momentarily stopped you in your tracks. You’d never had a reason to visit St. Mungo’s before, and you couldn’t help but gawk at the various witches and wizards gathered in the large waiting room. One man swaying unsteadily in line appeared to have his legs spelled on backwards. A woman whose entire body was covered in green boils napped in a nearby chair. There was even a man seated against the opposite wall with a continuous stream of soap bubbles pouring from his ears and floating up to the ceiling.

Neville, of course, didn’t seem to be phased by any of it. He’d surely grown used to such sights after visiting for so many years.

“This way,” he said, taking your hand and leading you through the double doors past the inquiries desk. He took out his wand to remove the Disillusionment Charm only once you’d reached a quiet stairwell.

“That felt a bit… unauthorized,” you said, patting nervously at your hair and hoping you were still presentable. “Will we get in trouble if someone finds out we haven’t, I don’t know, signed in anywhere?”

“No, they keep track of everyone who passes through the Floo. Whoever’s currently attending mum and dad probably already knows we’re on our way. Although”—Neville sent you an apologetic look—“they’re on the fourth floor.”

The last time you climbed four flights of stairs at once was during the Battle of Hogwarts, caught in a panicked crowd of students rushing through the castle and ducking spellfire. The months since then had been, for the most part, very slow-paced and sedentary. Your legs were not going to like this.

“Right. Well.” You straightened and took in a big breath. “Up we go.”

You and Neville were both huffing and puffing slightly by the time you reached the fourth floor. In the brief pause the two of you took to catch your breath, you made a mental note to find a magical solution to make climbing stairs more tolerable. Some sort of numbing charm below the knees? No, tripping would be entirely too easy. A Feather-Light Charm? Possibly, though if you cast it too strongly you might be liable to launch yourself over the whole staircase and into the wall.

Whatever. You’d figure it out later.

You followed Neville along the Spell Damage corridor, straight to a door at the far end, which happened to be the entrance to the Janus Thickey Ward. He knocked, and a few moments later a lock clicked from the other side and a middle-aged witch in green Healer robes answered.

“Neville, dear!” she greeted, reaching up to give his cheek a fond little pinch.

“Hello, Miriam,” Neville said, enduring her fawning. You had to hold back a laugh.

“I’ll say, it was such a wonderful surprise to see you were stopping by. And with company, no less.” Miriam turned her twinkling eyes towards you.

You introduced yourself, giving her hand a polite shake. “I’m Neville’s—” You paused, not sure how you should label your relationship in front of Miriam. The fact that you and Neville had started dating was something only your immediate families knew, so far.

You cast a questioning look at Neville. He nodded at you, a small smile curving his mouth.

“—girlfriend,” you finished.

All your other current anxieties aside, saying it out loud still made you feel embarrassingly giddy.

“Girlfriend!” Miriam exclaimed, beaming at you and Neville. “Oh, isn’t that just delightful! I’m Miriam Strout; I’m so pleased to meet you, darling. Come in, come in.” Healer Strout ushered the two of you through the doorway.

The Janus Thickey Ward was a long, open room with a number of beds lining the walls, each sectioned off by a set of floral-patterned curtains. Despite the somewhat sterile feel of the tiled floors and the off-white walls, the residents here were long term, and the collection of personal effects made the room a bit friendlier: things like knitted blankets, family photos, stacks of books, house slippers. You could even recognize a song by the Forty Phantoms playing on a radio somewhere nearby.

“Your father’s been a bit sleepy this morning, Neville, but he and the missus were both awake the last time I checked. I’m sure they’ll both be happy to see you,” Healer Strout said, locking the entrance once again with a wave of her wand. “Are either of you thirsty? We have a new elf in the kitchens that makes the most excellent cup of masala chai.”

“That’s alright, Miriam. We’ve got it from here,” Neville said.

“Thank you, though,” you added on.

“Of course, just tell me if you need anything.” And with that, Healer Strout stepped away to tend to a nearby patient who was standing on top of his mattress, stretching to pin a photo to the wall amidst an already-excessive number of portraits. All of which appeared to be self portraits.

He looked awfully familiar, in fact.

Wait. That wasn’t…?

“Gilderoy, you silly man, what have I told you about climbing up there?” Healer Strout called out fondly. “Falling down and bumping your head is the last thing you need!”

You whipped around to look at Neville. “Lockhart?” you whispered.

He nodded with a grimace. “Don’t make eye contact, he’ll take it as an invitation to show you his fan mail collection.”

The two of you hurried away.

Neville lost a bit of his steam as you neared the end of the ward, slowing his steps and running a nervous hand through his hair. You were nervous too, but you still made the effort to send him a supportive smile. He returned it, a bit wobbly, but there nonetheless.

And then before you knew it, you were standing in front of the floral curtain drawn around the very last two beds. “Mum? Dad?” Neville said. He grabbed the edge and pulled it open.

You’d seen photos of Alice and Frank Longbottom from their Auror days; Neville’s gran had several hanging proudly in her home. You’d always been struck by Neville’s likeness to his mother. Sure, he’d ended up with his father’s height and smile, but the rest belonged to Alice: his coloring, his round cheeks, his gentle eyes.

Now, though, it was evident that the life and verve you’d seen in those photos had been drained from Neville��s parents over the years. The familial resemblance was much more difficult to pick out in their current state.

Frank was propped up in his hospital bed with a heavy quilt draped over his lap, donning a thick, knitted jumper despite the warm weather. He gazed vacantly out the nearest window, which had been spelled to show a pleasant view of the English countryside. Meanwhile, Alice was sat in an armchair between the two beds, wearing a pink cardigan over her nightdress and fiddling with something small and papery in her hands.

They were both gaunt and pale as a sheet. Their hair had turned white, and their skin had creased and wrinkled, aging them far beyond their years. Neither Frank nor Alice reacted to their son’s arrival, and you had to wonder if they even realized anyone was there at all.

“Hi guys,” Neville said quietly, stepping forward and sitting himself on edge of his mother’s bed.

It took you a moment, but you eventually managed to unstick your feet from the floor, making sure to close the curtain behind you before taking a seat next to Neville.

He cleared his throat and continued. “It’s Tuesday, August 4th, 1998. I turned eighteen last week. Sorry I didn’t stop by sooner for my birthday, but I wanted to bring someone along this time.” Neville introduced you then, telling his parents your name.

“Hello Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom,” you said, your hands clasped tightly in your lap.

Again, they showed no reaction. Not that you thought you would get one out of them. You just weren’t used to it yet: speaking to someone so unresponsive.

Neville, however, was clearly well practiced in these one-sided conversations with his parents. “I know you’ve, erm, heard quite a lot about her,” he continued, casting a somewhat sheepish glance your way. “I just figured you should finally meet each other, now that we’re together. Though, really, I should’ve— I should’ve brought her ‘round a long time ago. She survived meeting Gran when we were twelve, after all.”

You huffed a laugh, remembering how terrifying the formidable Augusta Longbottom had seemed back then, nearly making you sick with nerves when faced with her hard, assessing eyes and stern tone. Neville had to assure you multiple times that his gran didn’t hate you the way you feared she might. In fact, after taking some time to warm up to you, she actually grew to be quite fond of you, often asking after you in her letters while Neville was away at Hogwarts.

You’d always remained quietly cautious of her, knowing how easily and often her sharp words could cut through Neville. There was no doubt Augusta loved him, surely, but that didn’t mean her standards for her grandson weren’t high, or that the comparisons she made between him and his father weren’t harsh. It was only over the course of the last year that Neville had finally gained his gran’s approval, and some of the bumps in their relationship seemed to have smoothed over.

“It wasn’t so bad. We get along pretty well these days, I think,” you said, looking to Frank as you spoke of his mother.

You weren’t expecting to find anything other than Frank’s blank stare still fixed on the window, unmoving, save for the slow rise and fall of his chest—which is why it was so startling when he sat forward and rose to his feet with a quiet grunt. You straightened your posture, briefly thinking he was going to approach you, but Frank’s eyes skipped over you and Neville completely as he shuffled past his bed.

Neville followed suit and stood. “Dad?”

“Is he okay?” you asked with a concerned frown.

“Yes, uh, he’s probably just headed to the washroom,” Neville said, already trailing after his father. “I’ll walk him there. We’ll be right back.”

They both passed through the curtain, where you heard Healer Strout call out, “You boys alright?”

“All good, Miriam, I’ve got him!”

That left you alone with Alice.

You floundered, unsure how to fill the silence between you, punctuated only by the crinkling of whatever Alice was still turning over in her hands. You tried to think of what a mother might like to speak about with her son’s girlfriend upon their first meeting, but you didn’t exactly have a frame of reference for this sort of thing. The only common ground you could find with her on short notice was, well, Neville.

“Neville is really good at Herbology,” you blurted. Then, sheepishly, “…You probably already know that, though.”

Great start.

“It’s what most people know about him. I mean, people who actually knew him before the Battle.” You realized a moment too late that the reminder that her son lived through the horrors of war might not be well received by Alice—assuming there was a chance she could understand you, even if she couldn’t respond—and you quickly moved on. “I struggled with it more the further along in school we got. I’m pretty sure the only reason I managed to pass my Herbology O.W.L. was because of Neville. He made this for me while we were revising that year, see?”

You reached underneath the collar of your shirt and pulled out the necklace that hung there more often than not. The pendant was a petal Neville had plucked from the flutterby bush the two of you had spent time tending to in one of the greenhouses. With the right combination of charms—and some help from Hermione, he’d later admitted—the petal had been hardened and polished, as though encased in glass.

You remembered how the urge to grab his face and kiss him had swooped through you when Neville presented you with the gift after your exams, and you remembered how little that urge had surprised you, even then.

“The fact that we only recently started dating feels rather ridiculous now, looking back on everything,” you muttered, rubbing your finger across the smooth edge of the petal as you peered down at it. “I can’t even pinpoint when I started… fancying Neville. I suppose I’ve always loved him in one way or another.”

You looked up to Alice, feeling somewhat shy and hot in the face after sharing something so honest, and found that her own gaze had risen to settle on your necklace. You stilled your hand and held it out for her to see. She stared for a long moment before returning to her fidgeting. Except this time, she began twisting something, the crinkling sound getting louder.

You leaned forward for a better look at what Alice held in her hands. It was a piece of Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum, you realized. The was a whole dish of it sitting on the nightstand behind her.

She unwrapped the gum and placed it in her mouth, then held out the wrapper for you.

“Oh… alright,” you said, taking the wrapper. Did she want you to toss it for her? There was a small bin tucked next to the nightstand, but it was clearly within her reach. Uncertain what to do, you smoothed out the waxy piece of paper into a neat little rectangle, idly admiring the gold foil around the edges.

It wasn’t much longer before Neville and his father returned. Once Frank was situated in bed, Neville returned to his seat by your side, smiling at both you and his mother. However, he froze when he caught sight of the Drooble’s wrapper in your hand.

“Neville? Are you alright?” you asked.

“Is that—? Did she give that to you?” His wide eyes darted back to Alice, whose jaw was working as she chewed on her gum.

“Yes. Was she not supposed to? I can throw it away—”

“No!” Neville’s outburst made you pause from where you’d risen to your feet, and he grimaced at himself, urging you to sit back down with a gentle hand on your arm. “No, no, sorry. It’s fine.”

“Well, if you’re certain.”

“I am.” He hesitates for a moment. “She’s… giving you a gift. It’s all she has to give, really. But it’s for you.”

You looked over at Neville in surprise, emotion suddenly twisting inside your chest. You could see some of it reflected in his face, the crinkle of his eyes, the slope of his mouth. A face you loved so dearly, made of the two people sitting across from you.

You swallowed a bit roughly and held onto the wrapper with care. “Thank you, Mrs. Longbottom.”

Neville pulled you into his side and laid a kiss on your temple.

#neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom x you #neville x reader #neville x you #neville longbottom #neville longbottom fic #my writing

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dreamingonfilm · 2 years ago

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✧˖*°࿐ Pumpkin Bread pt. 2 | N.L

Neville Longbottom x gn!reader, fluff

Summary: In which your relationship with Neville blooms in ways you could never imagine.

Part 1

w/c: 2.3k

Request: Yes

Your relationship with Neville grew close rather quickly, and more often than not, you’d find yourself hanging out with the boy in the greenhouse for hours; your secrets being shared in between fits of laughter and embarrassment. However, this was not to say that it was easy, there had been many times where your mouth seemed to run off on its own, a deep regret flushing through your whole body whenever you’d realize that you had just insulted your new-found friend. But thankfully, the boy always understood.

Today was the last day of your detention, and you’d now be able to spend your free time however you’d want. Four weeks ago, you were impatiently praying for this day to come sooner, knowing that you would no longer be obligated to spend time in the greenhouse. But now, the end of your punishment was something that you had been dreading, all thanks to the shy Gryffindor who knew so much about plants.

You had forgotten about a life that didn’t include you stressing over Herbology, or your yelling at the brown haired boy whenever he’d get mud on your robe. How were you to continue as normal, if this was what you now craved? The long walks back to your dorms as you two tried to make the most of the time you had left, the way his fingers would brush over yours every time he handed you pumpkin bread, and the way he would hug you each time you’d show him your latest Herbology quiz grade – a mere 72% blotched with red ink, something that he was so proud of you for.

Neville became a part of your everyday life, and you almost hated yourself for it.

And just like all the other days during these past few weeks, you found yourself in that cold glass room alongside him.

“(Y/N), can you pass me the scissors?” The boy’s voice broke through the calm ambiance. You looked up at him before passing him the small object from your hands.

As he took care of the plants, ones you didn’t know the name for, you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen after today. His hands gently touched the plant, as the small snips filled the room; your eyes dancing between his concentrated face and the tender movements of his fingers. This is what you wanted every evening to look like.

Your eyes danced for a few seconds more before you dropped down to the floor with a small huff. The boy laughed softly before turning around to face you. Your habits now memorized as he grew to know you like the back of his hand. If it was attention that you wanted, then attention you would get.

“What is it this time, hm?” His gaze softened as he watched you dramatically woe.

“Nothing!” You responded rather aggressively, turning away from him to face the wall.

He nodded before returning back to his plants, “Very well then.”

You stared at him dead-panned, as you now realized that he grew accustomed to your antics. The air now becoming more stuffy as you try to figure out how you were going to ask him. Finally, after a few seconds of fiddling with your fingers, you spoke.

“Actually,” you looked up towards him, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“Hmm?” the boy hummed in response, still attending to the plants, not bothering to turn around to look at you.

The frog in your throat grew large before you finally asked, “What’s going to happen to us after today?”

He froze. His eyes now concentrated on his hands, not bothering to finish tending to the leaves that he was once so focused on. After a few moments of silence, he finally turned around, staring into your eyes as he brought himself down to you.

You scooted over to the side as he took in the space next to yours. His lanky legs filling in whatever room there was once left, and his body so close to yours that you could almost smell the detergent he used to do his laundry yesterday. He awkwardly turned his face towards yours, and gave you a small smile.

“Well, I’d imagine you’d go back to ignoring me, is that it?”

You tried to figure out whatever look was now on his face. He seemed almost sad but at the same time, hopeful? This boy, one that has consistently slipped beneath your fingers and has accidentally hidden himself from the gaze of others, was now the only person that you could talk to without growing tired. Whenever you’d give him a cold glare, or sneered his name in a way that could only resemble Draco Malfoy, all he would do is give you a smile back, handing you his sweater – leaving a smudge of dirt on your hands. You wouldn’t get angry, you couldn't even find yourself to yell, this reckless and clumsy boy has now found himself in your heart. How could you ever go back to ignoring him, when his mere existence was enough for you to stand alone?

“No!” you looked down at your feet sheepishly, noticing how the tips of his shoes were touching yours – both of your knees rocking back and forth, “unless, you don’t want to talk to me anymore?”

You turned over to look at him, both of your noses almost touching as you felt his breath hit yours. A soft look in his eyes indicating that whatever feelings were locked in this garden, were those shared between both of you.

“Then I guess it’s settled,” he stood up, grabbing hold of your hands and pulling you with him as he made his way back to the unattended plants, “you’re stuck with me.”

With a nervous smile, you grabbed hold to the scissors, helping him with whatever was left to tend to. He watched you in adoration – a feeling that would quickly come and go between the anxiousness of knowing that you were now his to keep outside this room. Neville’s heart was simply too full of love, and if it weren’t for you asking him that one simple question earlier, he feared that it would explode onto the glass ceiling for everyone to see.

It was a love that was shared between him, you, and whatever poor plant you managed to get your hands on. The dirt on your face, and his thumb rubbing it off softly. Your hair full of leaves, and him there to pick them out.

—

“Don’t look until I tell you to!” The boy laughed, his large hands covering your eyes as he blindly led you to a place unknown.

You hesitantly nodded as you continued to walk, hearing the snapping of twigs and crunching of the dry grass below you. Small beams of the summer sunlight somehow managed to sneak in through his fingers, as you tried to figure out where on Earth you could be. If it were anyone else, they would be on the floor right now, you leaning over them as you call them almost every bad name in the book, but thankfully it was just Neville; you’d follow him blindly to hell if he asked it of you.

After 15 minutes of walking you finally came to a halt. The breeze ran past your shoulders as the boy slowly took his hands away from your face. You groaned at first, trying to adjust your eyesight to the brightness, before looking ahead at the scene that Neville had been keeping hidden.

A beautiful garden in full bloom, all different types of colors drowning in a pool of petals and thorns, dozens of plants whose names you couldn’t memorize no matter how long you tried. A small porcelain fountain right at the center that was flowing with fresh water. And right at the front, in Neville’s terrible handwriting, a sign that said “Our Garden.”

You were smiling so hard that the apples of your cheeks were starting to hurt, something that never in your life you’d imagine would be possible, and for the first time ever, there was no anger, there was no coldness, and there was no hatred. It was just pure happiness, one that was bestowed to you by the same boy that you couldn’t stand nearly half a year ago.

You turned around and wrapped him in a hug. “When, I mean, how,” you stuttered over your words, nearly mimicking him, “did you do this?”

“My Nan helped. She knew how much it would mean to you.”

“But it’s summer, how are they in full bloom?”

“Ever heard of magic, petal?” He laughed at your confused face.

“But, we aren’t allowed to use magic outside of school, and–”

“(Y/N), stop worrying so much. You sound just like me,” he released you from the hug and gave you a kiss on the forehead, “there’s a reason I said we’d have to keep this secret.”

You laughed silently through your nose and nodded, making your way hand in his to the garden. You admired the new found life with a sense of appreciation that wasn’t there before, pointing to each one and asking the boy beside you what it was. He would answer each time, not growing impatient, now even bothered when you’d forget seconds later.

“And this one?”

“Asphodel.”

“And this one?”

“That’s - that’s also Asphodel.”

And after hours of admiration and awe, your attention was now placed fully on him. You took notice of his overgrown hair that fell right below his eyes, his slender fingers as he placed a daisy in your hair, the way he bit his lip out of nervousness from doing so. Here, right in front of you, in this garden, was the first day of your life.

If it were six months earlier, you would have greedily grabbed at it; squishing it in the palm of your hand before it had the chance to choose for itself. But when it came to Neville, you were not greedy. You wanted to yell his name out to the world, This is my friend Neville, you’d shout with a voice so full of hunger, And I’m so utterly in love with him that it makes me sick!

The daisy on your ear now stood on its own as the boy's fingers interlocked with yours. A shy smile on his face as he looked you in the eyes, the same eyes that he wanted to drown in. He’d throw himself in if it meant that he could be with you forever.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked, both of your faces close, the air almost intimate.

“You.” He whispered, if it were any more quiet you would have mistaken it for the breeze.

“Mmm, what about me?”

“I just,” he took a deep breath in, the boy was scared and you knew it, “I just, really like you (Y/N). And I’m w-worried that you’re only going to ever see me as your friend, and that one day you’re going to find someone that can give you something more than a few plants an–”

Suddenly he found your lips pressed against his. His eyes opened wide at the sudden contact, but slowly closed themselves as he started to kiss you back. His hands made their way to your waist, and yours to his neck. You stayed like this for a few seconds; your teeth hitting the others as you both would laugh into the kiss, both of you trying to figure out what you were doing. It was an awkward first kiss, but it was yours.

You both pulled away, your foreheads leaning against each other as you decided to break the silence, “It’s our garden, is it not?”

He nodded.

“Then why would I ever leave.”

He smiled softly and brought his lips back down to yours. A kiss, short and simple, packed with so much tender love. A love that you couldn’t wait to explore for the rest of your life. And once again you found yourself hand in hand with the brunette, a grin placed upon both of your lips as you made your way back to his house, knowing that this was now the beginning of a new chapter that included something more.

His feet tripping over yours as you’d laugh at his clumsiness, the garden in full view, and in the oven – freshly baked pumpkin bread.

✧˖*°࿐

thank you for reading! check out my masterlist here

#neville longbottom fic #neville longbottom #neville #neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom x you #neville longbottom x y/n #neville x reader #neville x you #neville x y/n #neville longbottom fluff #harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter fanfic #harry potter x y/n #fluff #fanfiction

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claywriting · 1 year ago

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Look out for me

3600 words

first part of three: part two, part three

If you like I wrote another fic of neville, called "I can’t always be there to save you"

the Y/n is the same

Very, very slow burn

neville x f!reader

Being in the DA is one of the best things that happened to Y/n, not drawing attention on herself however has never been one of her abilities. When she found herself having to decide between defending Neville, which she isn't even so friend with or ending in the Umbridge hands she has no doubt, jumping at the rescue of the timid boy, not caring about the consequences. But this will have, and perhaps, not the ones expected.

The corridors of Hogwarts where colder that year, than ever before. Maybe only in the third year Neville found those colder, the terror of having the dementor roaming around the school and knowing that a serial killer was looking for the guy who slept in the bed near his almost make him go crazy that year. But in his fifth year the atmosphere if possible was even darker. The danger didn’t come from outside the school no more, but from the inside. The installation of the professor Umbridge was one of the worst things ever happened to the school; making the climate that the students had to endure the worst possible. Just walking around, talking freely, or looking too much could cause many problems to the younglings.

And there he was, walking alone in the afternoon, after the end of his lessons, going for the Room of Requirement, because Harry had that crazy idea, and now he was risking his neck to learn how to defend himself from crazy death eater and You-Know-who. He sighed, shaking his head, very lost in his thoughts, only listening the sound of his shoes on the floor of the empty hall; until a much faster sound captured his attention, someone coming very fast to his location. He raised his eyes just enough to look at his surrounding when a hand clashed on his back. “Hello, Darling. Going around alone? Mind if I walk with you? Pretty sure we are going in the same direction anyway and,” there she lowered her voice “Granger told us, better moving in pairs, less easy to pick on us.” A small laugh came out of a mouth next to Neville’s ear, as he moved his gaze to look at the girl that just crashed on his back.

Y/n was a year younger than him, a fellow Gryffindor, a normal girl. Pretty, Seamus once said, but no one had the courage to go tell her; her notorious hot head more than enough to keep any unwanted suitor away from her. But Neville had to agree with Seamus, she was, pretty. She had large shoulders, always waiting for one of the Weasley twins to fell of the broom (as she said) to be able to play, her hairs looked soft and well cured, even when she returned to the common room after study session they looked pretty, curled in a bum on top of her head; although that year she had cut them shorter, into a messy and carefree bob that was always, well... messy; but, and Neville could not explain that to himself, it looked like she wanted it to be like it, because even if it was chaotic, her hair looked better than ever. She had a happy smile, the one kind that make other people smile too, and a fast tongue that make her one of the targets both from the twins and the Umbridge, the firsts because they founded her annoyed words funny, and the second because she can’t seem to keep her mouth shout for her own good.

And, as the last part there were her eyes. Neville always tough that her eyes were the most mesmerizing eyes in the whole school. Able to go from looking like a sky before a storm, when she was studying or saw something that angered her, to the kindest and happiest one for almost nothing.

As one time she was clearly struggling with her head inside a book, reading for God know what time the same three lines; her face looked like she was about to explode and kill someone, and Ginny came to Neville asking for a courtesy.

“I have finished all my sweets,” she told him softly “don’t you happen to have something? This usually is enough to make her mood better.”

Now, Neville always was picked on by bullies, but after the year before when the girl crushed Gobble’s nose with her book to protect him, he felt a little more safe to walk around in the castle, especially when the girl was in the surroundings. So, he was eager to be able to help her, in everything, even the smallest thing. This was no exception, and the marvel when he noticed that, only tapping on her shoulder to offer her a candy, make her eyes transform in pure bliss. She accepted the candy so happily that make his heart warmer.

“Yes, I Know, but I didn’t find anyone; and…” he hesitated “going around with a girl is…”

She laughed, softly. “I swear Longbottom, I’ll be distant enough to not get us a detention, if someone comes by, okay?”

He nodded, slow.

“But seriously, ask me next time. I don’t like to go alone neither. And go picking Luna is a pain in the ass, I always send Ginny and Hermione. So, I don’t have to walk by myself for half of the castle.”

“She isn’t bad” tried to argue him.

“No, she is lovely. Don’t get me wrong.” She fasted explain “But, if you don’t mind, I prefer to walk with you.”

Some redness grew on the boy’s face, his hand twirling on each other’s. “I… like to walk with you too, Y/n.” he muttered.

“So, there isn’t any problem if we go together, only being safer. No cons, only pros.” She laughed, putting her hands in the pockets of the coat. “Am I wrong?”

The boy shakes his head. “As always, no, you aren’t.”

Another laugh left the lips of the girl next to him. She must have been of an extremely good mood that day, Neville thought, looking at her jumping happily in the middle of the hall, slightly ahead of him; he himself let go a smile, while looking at her. The thoughts in his head looking at the happy girl jumping and twirling her skirt, her bouncy hair free in the air, the laughter in her eyes. She was extremely good at making him happy, just by looking at her. He almost tend his hand to grab her when a cough reclaimed their attention behind them.

“Longbottom.” a snarky voice make him froze on the spot, and slowly turn around.

The malefic trio behind them, Draco was looking at Neville with a smirk on his face, and behind him Cabble and Goyle. Neville was petrified in the middle of the corridor, unable to lift his gaze to look at the three in the eyes, one good thing was that his figure covered almost completely y/n, so when she emerged from behind him she had a very good view of the change of expression of the three guys. She smirked at them, Cabble growl ah her, Neville with a surge of curage put himself between his friend and the bully.

“Do we have any problem, Malfoy?” asked the girl, putting a hand on Neville’s shoulder, to tranquilize him. “I mean, you and your two minions, clearly have some, but we?” she looked at them funny, “We didn’t do anything wrong.”

The blonde one, the one that looked like a ferret, gaze them with attention, before a smirk grew on his face. “Do you really wanna do this, L/n?”

The girl already had her wand in her hand, but was still smiling, and the tone of her voice spoke about arrogance, against Draco. “I won’t make anything, if you don’t do anything funny, Malfoy.”

Neville thought that the tension between the girl and Draco was so thick that could be cut with a knife, both looked like as they were ready to jump at each other throat, just a wrong movement and chaos would be unleashed in the corridors. They clearly hated each other, Draco was a bitch with all the Gryffindors, but Neville has seen him with that expression only looking at Harry, he would have never thought… His gaze moved on the two behind him, Cabble looked like he was ready to rip the head off y/n, probably because last year she broke his nose, and Goyle looked as always, eager to torment someone.

“Letting a girl defending you Squib?” asked Malfoy moving his gaze on Neville, witch didn’t answer the provocation.

Y/n however did.

“Jealous, Draco? What’s the matter? Do you wish to have someone protecting you?” she makes a grimace at him, moving her weight to a foot into the other. “I can show you, if you ask properly. Be a good boy, c’mon.”

She was shitting on him, and everyone could tell; but, for once, Draco decided to be the smart one, lifting his wand as to cast a spell, Neville saw the slow movement, and understood that there made with purpose, to make the girl attack him first. And that exactly what she did, seeing Draco lifting his wand she had no instants of doubt, her wand moved almost on his own ad she casted a spell that led the blonde boy fly into a wall, crashing and falling with disgraced movement.

But, when he lifted his face, aside from a little blood that was leaking from his nose, a smile moved his face.

“She attacked me!” he started screaming. “Get her! She attacked me!”

The yells were more than enough to make her hesitate for some moments, her eyes moved to Nevilles, with a sorry look on her face; knowing that she, with her hot head, just condemned them both to a visit into Umbridge’s office. That was just a second because after that a binding curse send her flying into the hall, blocked on the floor.

Neville looked in horror his friend being sent on the other side of the corridor, her hair scattered on the cold floor and her wand fled some meters from the body of the girl. Her eyes blocked looking in another direction, open. For a second, he felt bile coming in his mouth, she looked death, but then the Pietrificus totalus malediction crashed on him too, and his thought moved in another direction, afraid for the consequences of the meet.

When Neville recuperates his body autonomy, he was already in the Umbridge office; the smell of melted rose scented wax making his eyes watery, and his throat ache. Y/n on the floor too, not far away from him. She didn’t look very worried, and this made him even more anxious, afraid of what the girl could do. It was almost like she didn’t care what would have happened to her, as long as she would have win in the long period. She wasn’t afraid of losing points from her house, to sustain the angry looks of her housemates, to end in detention every other week; it was like she didn’t care because she feels in peace with herself every time she put herself in trouble to defend someone. So, there she was, lifting herself from the floor to sit on one of the little armchairs in front of professor’s Umbridge desk, with a little smile on her lips. Neville didn’t sit, standing behind the girl, trembling slowly.

“Is it true,” started the woman, passing her own wand from a hand to the other. “that you two attacked some other students.”

“No, it’s not.” answered Y/n fast, moving for an instant her gaze on Neville’s, which sent her a confused look. “I did. He didn’t do nothing, Miss, just standing here.”

The professor’s gaze moved on Neville, thinning.

“I’m ready to take the Veritaserum, Miss, I was the one that cast a spell first, on Malfoy. He did nothing, was walking me to the common room.” She fidgets with her hands, slightly nervous. “I swear, Miss. Neville’s has not done anything wrong, even stepping in the middle to stop me.” she make a small laugh. “He knows I’m a hot head.”

Professor’s Umbridge sat in silence, looking only at the girl.

“Very well” she sighed “Longbottom, you are free to go. But I have my eyes on you, so be careful.” She showed him the door. “And, perhaps, choose better friends, in the future.”

Neville opened his mouth, as to protest. “I’m… I was there it isn’t right… not only Y/n…”

The girl gave him a soft smile “It’s alright, I’ll see you in the common room later. I’ve made a mistake, It’s only my fault.”

Neville looked at her in disbelief. Once again, she was just sitting there going in detention with serenity, the girl give him a last smile and then the professor forced him to leave the office.

He walked to the great hall with his hands into the pockets of his pants, the head recessed between the shoulders, and his face deformed in a sad pout. He sat there till the other members of the DA arrived and sat as well.

“Why didn’t you come to the encounter?” inquired almost immediately Ginny, leaning in his direction.

Every other member of the DA looked at him curious.

“Y/n.” he answered, gaining more curious look from his peers. “She…” he sighed “Malfoy stopped us in the middle of a hallway, and she… didn’t take well. I mean, he extracted the wand, and she attacked him…” he passed a hand on his eyes.

The Weasley let all go a laugh, followed by Harry.

“Did she hurt him?” asked Fred, with sparling eyes.

Neville just moved his head to point to the Slytherin table, where Draco’s nose was still red and swallow. The table let go another amazed laugh, one of the twins almost fall from his spot.

“She has a passion to hit on the nose of the Slytherin. I wonder if she does on purpose or what.” Ron commented between the laughs; Ginny’s, on his side, exploded in another laugh, very amused by the precision of her friend.

“I bet she does it on purpose.” Commented Dean. “She is a good Beater; her aim must be good.”

Everyone agreed with that, and, by doing so the focus of the conversation moved to the quidditch, distracting the presents, except for Neville, which keep an eye on the doors of the Great Hall, waiting for his friend. When they all get up, at the end of the dinner he makes sure to take a sandwich for the girl.

The group moved to the common room and there sated, chatting between each other, on the sofa enjoying the warmth of the fire in the fireplace. Next to Neville, Ginny was sitting on the sofa curled up in silence. In an angle Fred and George were confabulating something and, next to them, Seamus and Dean were chatting about Quidditch.

After some time, the paint of the Fat Lady opened, and, behind the entrance y/n was standing, her hand red and a black eye proud on her face.

“Sup guys,” she entered gaining the silence inside of the room, she left her robes on the armchair and sat on the sofa, next to Ginny and Neville. “did you all had a good evening?”

“What in the bloody hell happened to your face?” Hermione spoke first, breaking the silence in the room, clearly voicing what everyone were thinking, looking at her.

“Oh… yes.” Y/n answered “This… I may or may not have made the Umbridge…” she grinned “Mad.”

The silence persisted.

“I exaggerated, maybe. But that old Hag makes my patience go to the hell.” she looked at Neville’s lap, where a sandwich sat napkin-wrapped. “Is that for me honey? You are the most precious.” she added when Neville confirmed that, the food, was in fact for her. Her hand moved and grabbed the sandwich to unwrap it, and she started eating.

Fred and George moved closer curious looking at her. “And the hand? What did make you write?”

She grinned, once again. “I should have write ‘I should not attack other students.’” she moved her hand, to show the twins; Neville leaned to look at the back of the girl’s hand, on that the back a sentence.

“I will punch Malfoy” and above another sentence, unreadable.

“When I noticed what that thing was doing to my hand, I decided to write on me something that I actually believe.” she huffed. “The old hag didn’t check what I was writing, so…” She lifted her shoulder with a smile that promised chaos and moved her eyes to look at Fred and George. “Weasleys, I will need your help, if it’s not much trouble.”

The two looked at her intrigued, smelling that something was on.

“I swear Y/n if you make us loose other points…” started Ron.

“Let the lady talk Ronnie.” exclaimed Fred smacking his brother behind his head.

“Ye, I think she is cooking something in that head.” added George.

She tapped her fingers on the armrest of the sofa. “I think we’ll need the bludgers,” she muttered “and a distraction to sneak into the office while she is away.” added eyeing Ginny, she huffed. “But before anything else I need a shower, and a good night of sleep.” the girl eyed the twins once again. “I hope we’ll discuss this thing better tomorrow morning, yes?”

The two grinned at her.

And Neville stood here looking at y/n and the twins, the stomach twisted with anxiety and, maybe, something else.

Two weeks passed by with nothing done from y/n, it looked like that only speaking about terrible things with the twins was enough to keep her satisfied, but Neville couldn’t shake that horrible feeling that was aching his chest. He, used to have her spawning around him at the most random moments, was now seeing her only in company of the two ginger boys. Even Ginny, that was a good friend of the girl, was barely seeing her outside of the lessons. At lunch and dinner, she always sat with Neville and Ginny, and now her new place was between the two brothers, in the corridors looked like they walked to her and with her to every class; and after the lessons she was allowed to stick to them constantly, at quidditch practice, during the DA meetings, in the common room during the evening.

Neville was looking at all this with a pouty face and nervous attitude, ready to snap to everyone that talked about the trio in a different way than to complain. Ginny and Hermione being his best ally on this ques. The first because the one girl that was hatched by her brother was her best friend who she was deeply missing, and the other because she didn’t want to attract Umbridge attention on the Gryffindor house. So, during an evening in the common room, during which Neville was studying at a table in silence the two girls popped at his side, sitting with a disappointed groan.

“We must stop the three of them.” Hermione said with no further ado. Neville lifted his eyes from the book he was reading to send the two girl a confused look, tilting his head, no more invitation was needed for the girl to continue. “They are going to get us in trouble, if they get caught in no time the Umbridge will know about the DA, and then, we all be marked.”

Neville shot a look at Ginny, which nodded. “To be honest you know, I’m only pissed because she now spends all her time with those two,” she moved her hair behind her ear “aren’t you? You used to walk everywhere together, and now she goes with them.” The two girl sent him inquisitive looks, curious about his answer, and he blushed.

“I… you know, since the beginning of the year walking with a girl can send you in detention.”

Ginny gave him a kick under the table.

“Don’t be stupid,” She hissed. “and don’t lie to me. I know you miss it, she doesn't even spar with you at the DA.” The redhead takes her breath in, as Hermione moved her gaze to look at the girl they were talking about that was just walking inside the room with the twins.

“We know it pisses you too, Neville.” Hermione said softly “And we know that seeing her happy makes you happy too, but…”

At this point the boy shook his head, asking himself why he was listening to the two girls. He closed his book, his cheeks red and suddenly stood up, interrupting that and other conversation in the room. Even Y/n which in the last period was so taken by the twins to even look at him stopped her chatting to stare in silence. Seeing Neville, the quiet, unsure, boy stand up like that, the face angry and the hands closed in firsts was a new gaze to all the presents, and so everyone stopped what was doing to look in awe at the scene. “I’m not gonna put in the middle.” Said the boy with no hesitation whatsoever. “If she is happy, then I am. That’s it.” He spoke, leaving Hermione and Ginny to look at him confused, or better, surprised from the reaction. He waited long enough to see the two nods before taking his book and fly in the direction of his room, the eyes of the common room that were piercing the back of his head.

Many times, Y/n had saved him from the bully, the last time just a few weeks prior, when the bully stopped being a student and has become a professor, he could have never token something that made her happy, even if that meant was left behind. He passed a hand on his eyes, trying to make the tears that were stinging his eyes return, and succeeded, remaining in silence, on his bed, looking at the ceiling while in the common room the chatting was returning to his normal pace.

hello hello hello i hope you liked this little thing, is shorter than the other one, but I'm writhing other parts too and working on other fiction as well.

If you wish to be tagged in part two (and three as well) let me know; and if you have any request or ideas. Anything will be precious to improve myself. <3

I take a moment to tell, I don't have a beta reader and, since I'm not english, I would appreciate some help.

thank you all, send love <3

#neville x reader #fanfic #neville x you #neville longbottom fic #hogwarts fifth year #bullying? not on my watch #Y/n is an idiot #harry potter fanfiction #neville longbotton x reader #neville is a cutie

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qtssvnwoo · 2 years ago

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hii ik ive requested before but could i request a neville x huff!reader where like the reader is really loud and extroverted and has adhd but neville is his quiet self and he loves listening to her ramble about everything and anything? <333333 love your work bestie

You can request as many times as you'd like bestie <333

Prompt List-If you wanna request!!!

Masterlist- All my fics in one places for you!!

His (Chatty) Hufflepuff-Neville Longbottom

Neville wasn’t exactly the most extroverted person. He was typically quiet and didn’t say too much in class unless called upon. He had very few friends, and he honestly kept to himself a lot. Neville was picked on and teased for being ‘forgetful’ and sometimes, it made him sad, but he knew that what the people said was true, so he didn’t mind all too much.

You on the other hand were like a bouncy ball. You’d talk and talk and talk until you physically could not. You were very energetic and tended to convey that into your words. You had quite a few friends and you were known for talking really fast. People liked you, and knew you as ‘the energetic Hufflepuff’. You had a habit of telling everyone everything and some found it quite annoying, but you didn’t care.

Thats why, when Neville asked you out one day during fourth year, people were surprised when you said yes. They were even more surprised when you two continued to date for the years following. You and Neville were polar opposites and people found it odd that you two had been together for so long.

“His quietness would send me through the roof.” Some people would say.

“She’s too loud, and she is quite energetic. I would get annoyed quickly.” Others would say.

But, you never listened to them. Probably because you were too focused on talking to Neville.

“OH OH OH OH OH. AND THEN, and then Cathrine told Henry that she never actually liked him! Can you believe that? After seven years together you think she would’ve truly liked him. I mean, if it was me, I would’ve never been with Henry because I’m convinced his favorite food is garlic bread! He always smells like garlic. I actually like Garlic I think it's yummy. And I like dipping it in pasta. Do you like Pasta Neville?”

Neville smiled up at you from where he was sitting. He was trying to do his herbology homework but he was so engrossed in listening to you that his homework had made its way back into his bag. You two were sitting underneath the tree in the courtyard, and Neville watched as you laughed and smiled. Truth is, he was more paying attention to your lips moving and the sound of your laugh than your story, but he still answered you.

“I like Pasta.”

“Oh that's good because I LOVE Pasta, if I could eat pasta everyday I could. Well, maybe not everyday because I would get sick of it, and if I got sick of pasta I would be so sad because I LOVE pasta Neville. I really like when they put that white sauce on the pasta too, with the chicken. OH speaking of chicken, did you know my brother has a chicken farm in Italy! He raises chickens, Neville! Can you believe that?”

“I cannot.”

“Me either, I could never be around chickens. They smell and they are very very loud. Kind of like Henry. OH OH OH Did I tell you that Henry and Cathrine aren’t together? They broke up because Cathrine said that she never liked him.”

You continued to talk, all your stories and little speeches always got mixed and tangled together, but you somehow managed to always bring it back to the main point.

Neville sat in the courtyard listening to you rant about everything for the next hour, but he didn’t mind it. He loved the way your voice sounded, how you would laugh at your own jokes and the way you always asked him a question every now and then to keep him interested in the conversation.

People walked past and they wondered how you two could stand each other. But you knew that with Neville’s quietness, and your chattiness, you were a perfect match. And no one could ever make you think otherwise.

#neville x y/n #neville x reader #neville x you #harry potter drabble #harry potter headcanon #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x reader angst #harry potter fluff #harry potter x reader fluff #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x yn

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foolishpensandidioticink · 2 years ago

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Harry Potter Characters + Love Languages II

Part I

Neville Longbottom

Expressing

Acts of Service

Neville is always willing to put himself out for others, as we see when he helps Harry out during the third task.

Neville's grandmother was never one for physical affection or particularly kind words either, so I think that the language Neville has had the most experience with is acts of service.

For Neville, love is making sure you're always fed and never, ever cold.

Best believe this guy gives you all his sweaters. Those lovely cable knit ones too.

Very shy when it comes to giving compliments, but he's always thinking adoring thoughts.

"Neville," you gasp. "You didn't." You look up from the box in your lap in utter amazement. "Your favorite sweater? The one your Nan knit by hand?" He ducks his dark head, avoiding your eyes. "Well," he says. "Well. I know- I know you really like it. And I've got loads. Of sweaters, that is. I've got loads. So I want you to have it. Happy Birthday." You're silent. Neville's cheeks are reddening rapidly. "There's a scarf. I- I've been practicing my crocheting." When you don't reply, he rambles on, "I know it isn't much, but I thought you'd like it, so I-" "Neville Longbottom, you are the greatest partner on earth," you announce solemnly, and then launch yourself at him. "Oh," he murmurs into the kiss. "Oh, alright."

Receiving

Words of Affirmation

Neville struggles a lot with self esteem, and like I said, his Nan doesn't seem as if she was very verbally affectionate.

A partner who is constantly telling him how valuable he is would be amazing for him.

He wouldn't believe you at first. He finds it really hard to accept the fact that anyone could think highly of him, hell, he can hardly believe you're dating him in the first place.

After you've been together a while, he knows that you mean every word you say and it flusters him even more.

He also gets very bashful during physical contact. I'm talking stuttering, physically CANNOT look you in the eye, hands trembling, ears RED

It takes him quite a while to be comfortable with touch, but if you're patient with him, he'll come to really enjoy it.

Once he does, he loves holding your hand. It just makes him feel so safe. Even linking your pinkies is enough.

"You're so cute," you murmur idly. You're sitting on a couch in the common room together, holding hands as Neville reads. He chokes on air. "What?" His fern-colored eyes are stretched wide, his mouth is slightly ajar, and the tips of his ears are beginning to go pink. He looks slightly scandalized. "I said," you repeat, with a grin on your face, "You're adorable." His eyes dart from side to side, as though he thinks you might be talking to someone else. "I-well. Me?" he asks weakly. You laugh outright. "You. You and no one else, Neville."

Cedric Diggory

Expressing

Physical Touch

His father is very affectionate with him, so it just comes naturally.

He's very respectful about it though. He'll grab you in a tight hug and then pull back to ask if it's alright with you.

Cedric uses kisses as currency. By this I mean that if you upset him slightly, he'll insist on a cheek kiss to make up for it. You ditched a class without him? Kiss on the cheek. You stole his food? He doesn't mind, as long as you kiss his cheek.

Schedules study sessions for the two of you. He brings lots of snacks and water to keep you hydrated. He's a very patient tutor and rewards you with a kiss when you focus.

Cedric loves it when you lay on him.

"Merlin's beard, Cedric," you exclaim. "I thought you were half decent at quidditch." Cedric is stretched out on a cot in the hospital wing, with a cast on his left arm. Lying so still, he looks dead, vampiric. For a few seconds your heart stops, and then he winces playfully up at you, and the illusion is broken. "Ouch. Words hurt, you know." "Bet they don't hurt as much as flying directly into a bludger," you retort. "Nothing does, I suppose," Cedric grimaces. Then he looks up with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Are you going to kiss it better?" You stare. "Cedric Diggory, you have broken your arm. You have a broken arm and you want me to kiss it better?" He nods, honey-colored hair falling over his brow. "Pretty please?"

Receiving

Quality Time

Cedric is very busy most of the time, what with prefect duties. quidditch, and trying to keep up with his grades. If you make an effort to spend time with him against his oppressive schedule, he will be head over heels for you.

Please, please, please go on walks together. Cedric knows a ridiculous amount about any animal you could come across, and with him, every walk is a nature walk. He's the kind of guy to follow an ant to make sure it gets safely back to its hill.

If you go to his games, you'd better believe he's going to do his very best to give you a win. The fact that you're supporting him is almost euphoric, and he can't help but apply the adrenaline to chasing the snitch.

"Diggory dives for the snitch, he misses, he HANGS OFF HIS BLOODY BROOM, HE'S GOT IT, THE MAD LAD'S GOT THE SNITCH, AND HUFFLEPUFF WINS!" Lee Jordan screams into the microphone. "RAVENCLAW, HOW DOES IT FEEL TO LOSE TO A TWINK?" Cedric's jubilant expression drops visibly, and you burst into laughter. You move down the stands towards him. "Good game, twink," you greet him, throwing your arms around his neck. "Oh, not you too," he sighs, looking down at you with mock sadness in his golden brown eyes. "And here I was about to thank you for the victory." "Thank me? Whatever for? That was all you, Ced," you protest. Cedric pulls back to look you solemnly in the eye. "Thanks for showing up. You made me want to win, for you. That energy? That win? It was for you."

#harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x you #cedric x reader #neville longbottom #neville x you #neville longbotttom x reader #idiotic ink #fanfic

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bethsvrse · 1 year ago

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when I find a brilliant, jaw dropping, amazing x reader fic but suddenly I’ve been given a first name, last name, hair colour and eye colour

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lumosou · 2 months ago

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୨୧ — The Harry Potter boys and their Love Languages ( ˆ͈̑꒳ˆ͈̑ )੭ ; 𖦹 + ♡

ꕤ — Characters ; Harry J Potter. Ron Weasley. Fred Weasley. George Weasley. Neville Longbottom. Draco Malfoy. Cedric Diggory.

ꕤ — Discretion ; none!! just fluff and love.

ꕤ — A/n ; eee i’m so sorry for disappearing for a bit ☹️. but i appreciate alll the support u guys have been showing me on all my works!! ily guys!! so here’s a fun lil treat :3 thank u endlessly 🫶🏻

; masterlist.

୨୧ — Harry J. Potter & Acts Of Service.

Harry isn’t good with words—not the ones that matter, anyway. He stumbles, stammers, gets stuck trying to say how he feels. But when it comes to showing you, there’s no hesitation. His love is found in the way he waits outside the library to walk you back to the common room, how he memorizes your favorite tea and makes sure there’s always enough sugar. It’s the way he notices when you’re too tired to finish an essay and stays up scribbling notes for you even though he’s just as exhausted.

He’s the boy who gives pieces of himself quietly, always watching, always finding the small gaps in your day where he can slip in and help without you asking. Because that’s what he needs—to feel like he’s protecting you, even from the smallest inconveniences.

Harry doesn’t say I love you in grand speeches. He says it in the way he fixes your broken quill without telling you, how he gives you the better seat at dinner, how he’d gladly carry your burdens if you let him. To him, love is action—every unspoken I’ll take care of this wrapped in the quiet hope that you’ll understand.

୨୧ — Ron Weasley & Quality Time.

Ron doesn’t need extravagant displays of affection; he just wants you. To be near you, to sit next to you, to share the little pieces of his world that make him who he is. He thrives in your presence, whether it’s laughing over a ridiculous chess match, walking the long way to class just to keep the conversation going, or sitting quietly by the fire while the hours slip by unnoticed.

Time with you is how Ron shows he cares. It’s in the way he always makes room for you—on the couch, in his day, in his life. He’ll wait for you after lessons, save you a seat at every meal, and offer you the last Chocolate Frog without hesitation. He’s happiest when you’re there, no matter what you’re doing, because your company makes everything better.

For Ron, love is in the small, stolen moments. It’s in the way he notices the things you like, the way he teases you just enough to see you smile. He doesn’t need to say it out loud—not when every minute he spends with you is his way of saying, You matter to me.

୨୧ — Fred Weasley & Physical Touch.

Fred speaks in touches—quick, fleeting, and full of mischief. A hand on your shoulder as he sneaks up behind you, a playful nudge of his elbow to make you laugh, the way his arm always ends up slung around your shoulders like it belongs there. He’s tactile in a way that feels effortless, like he can’t help himself when it comes to you.

But then there are the other touches, the ones that mean more than he ever says out loud. His hand brushing yours under the table, his fingers ghosting over your back when you’re standing close, the way he pulls you into a hug that lasts just a second longer than it should. He’s all warmth, all ease, all Fred.

With him, touch is a language of its own. It’s how he shows he’s paying attention, how he steadies you when the world feels too loud, how he reminds you that he’s there—always, without fail. He’ll twirl a strand of your hair around his finger while you’re trying to focus, just to see you roll your eyes, but his thumb will stroke gently over your knuckles when you’re quiet, reminding you that he sees more than you think.

Fred’s love is in the way he’s never far, his presence a constant, reassuring hum. Every touch, whether playful or tender, says what he won’t always put into words: I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re mine.

୨୧ — George Weasley & Acts Of Service.

George loves quietly, but he loves deeply. His affection isn’t loud or flashy—it’s in the little things, the unnoticed gestures that leave no room for doubt. He’ll stay up late helping you finish that essay, even though he’s got his own work waiting for him. He’ll charm the Gryffindor common room fire to burn just a little brighter when you’re cold, or tuck a sweet you love into your bag without a word.

With George, it’s all about thoughtfulness. He pays attention—really pays attention—to the things that make you happy. He knows your favorite snack, your favorite quill, the way you like your tea. He notices when you’ve had a rough day before you even say a word, and his first instinct is to fix it. A joke, a small gift, a ridiculous gesture—it’s all his way of saying, I’m here for you.

But his acts of service aren’t just practical—they’re personal. He’s always finding ways to make your life brighter, softer, more manageable. If you’re overwhelmed, he’ll take something off your plate without you asking. If you’re sad, he’ll make you laugh, even if it means making a fool of himself. And when you ask why he does it, he’ll shrug, his ears pink, and say, “Because I can.”

George’s love is subtle but unwavering. It’s in every thoughtful detail, every small action, every quiet I’ll take care of it that he hopes you’ll notice but never expects you to. It’s the kind of love that doesn’t demand attention—it just is.

୨୧ — Neville Longbottom & Words Of Affirmation.

Neville’s love is soft, steady, and full of reassurance. He’s the boy who sees the best in you, even when you can’t see it yourself. His words are careful, heartfelt, and impossibly earnest—he’ll tell you how brilliant you are after every small success, remind you how brave you are when you’re doubting yourself, and whisper how beautiful you look when you catch him staring.

But Neville’s words aren’t just sweet; they’re intentional. He notices the things you’re insecure about—the things you try to hide—and makes it his mission to remind you of your worth. When you’re frustrated or overwhelmed, he’s the one who tells you, It’s okay. You’ve got this. You’re stronger than you think. He believes in you wholeheartedly, and he’ll never let you forget it.

His love is in the way he writes you little notes when he’s too shy to say things out loud, the way he always manages to find the perfect compliment at the perfect moment. Neville’s words aren’t about flattery—they’re about truth. He means every single one.

With Neville, you never have to wonder how he feels. His words wrap around you like a warm hug, a constant reminder that you’re loved, cherished, and seen. To him, every You’re amazing is another way of saying, I’m so lucky to have you.

୨୧ — Draco Malfoy & Gift Giving.

Draco shows his love in the way he gives—not just things, but pieces of himself. His gifts are thoughtful, deliberate, and so carefully chosen that you can’t help but feel how much he pays attention. A rare book he tracked down because you mentioned it once, your favorite sweets neatly wrapped and waiting for you after a hard day, or an heirloom quill with a note that simply says, It reminded me of you.

It’s never about the price, though he pretends it is. He’ll roll his eyes and call it no big deal, but the way he watches your reaction gives him away every time. Because it isn’t just a gift—it’s his way of saying, I see you. I notice what makes you happy. I care.

But it’s not all material. Draco gives his time, his attention, his loyalty. He’s there when you need him, even if he doesn’t know what to say. He shows up with a coffee you didn’t ask for or slips a note into your bag that reads, Don’t forget how brilliant you are. It’s in the way he lends you his scarf when you’re cold or makes sure your favorite seat by the fire is saved.

Draco’s love is in the details, the way he always finds the perfect thing to remind you how much you mean to him. He doesn’t say I love you easily, but his gifts? They say it for him. Quietly, fiercely, and completely.

୨୧ — Cedric Diggory & Physical Touch.

Cedric’s love is quiet, steady, and impossibly warm, and it shows in the way he touches you. It’s never demanding, always gentle—a hand at the small of your back as you walk through the halls, his fingers brushing yours under the table, or the way his arm wraps around your shoulders without hesitation when you’re cold. With Cedric, touch isn’t just comfort; it’s a promise: I’m here, I’ve got you.

He’s affectionate in ways that feel effortless. He’ll press a kiss to your temple when no one’s looking, or pull you into a hug so tight it feels like he’s shielding you from the world. When you’re upset, his thumb traces slow circles over the back of your hand, grounding you. And when words fail, it’s his touch that reassures you—light, familiar, unshakable.

But it’s the little moments that matter most. The way he reaches for you instinctively, his fingers intertwining with yours like they belong there. The way his forehead leans against yours in quiet moments, his breath mingling with yours in a silent exchange of you’re everything to me. Cedric doesn’t just touch you; he anchors you.

To him, love is closeness. It’s the warmth of his body against yours, the feel of his hand in yours, and the way he’s always, always pulling you closer—because with you, he’s home.

﹙@ 𝗹𝘂𝗺𝗼𝘀𝗼𝘂 ﹚

#☆.— 𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗳 #harry potter #harry potter fluff #harry potter x reader #harry james potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry james potter x you #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction #fred weasley x reader #george weasley x reader #ron weasley x reader #neville longbottom x reader #draco malfoy x reader #cedric x reader #.𝗵𝗱𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻𝘀 🐻

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btsbabe7 · 2 months ago

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Keep Me (In the Shadows)

Word Count: 5.4k

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x female reader

Warnings!: 18+, unprotected, impregnation

Synopsis: The walls of Hogwarts contain many secrets of their own, but on a late night, you and Draco Malfoy find yourselves uncovering one of your very own.

“Is it true,” Draco begins, voice ragged and rough around the edges, “that everything in this blasted castle resets at midnight?”

You watch the way the hem of his ebony robe propels on a soft wind over the dusty cobblestone tiles of the corridor. He remains a few strides ahead as he always does, walking quickly, yet aimlessly. He’d once told you it’d been his way of deflecting attention. If his eyes remained straight ahead, naturally he’d be unaware that you’re following his every move or anyone else for that matter.

So, you trail him inconspicuously, keeping your eyes glued to the empty corridor walls, the back of his robe, and his platinum hair with no real destination in your mind either. Your only goal is not getting caught alone with him this late in the night when students are forbidden to be outside of their dorms. If one were to stop you two, say a professor, you’d both lie and say you were returning to your respective areas. Draco’s speed walking would be believable enough.

“I’m sure there may be some logic behind that, but ultimately, I doubt it…”

“And you and Potter? Did that relationship reset at midnight? Better yet, what’s the logic behind that?”

Draco practically spits the words out in spite and you come to a sudden halt as they echo throughout the corridor. His words are far too large for a space so empty, for a space where perked, attentive ears may overhear or eavesdrop. In a corridor where lurking eyes may pry around corners in search of the next day’s gossip, you have to be careful. It’d happened before, not to you and Draco, but other students, and their secret escapades had been aired out to all who dared to listen over the next morning’s pumpkin juice. Yet, Draco cares more about this than the idea of being caught and the risk of detention. You can sense it in the way his shoulders and back stiffen with his walk.

Tossing your left arm over your right, you give the upper portion a soft squeeze while inhaling deeply through your nose. Dust tickles your nostrils and the faint smell of leftovers fill the air. You take in the toastiness of roasted chicken, the garlicky herbs that had been marinated into bite-sized potatoes, the sweet cinnamon sugar coating that had been dusted over pumpkin pasties and handcrafted pies, and the savory aroma of buttered rolls as they all congregate in a single whiff. With a sharp exhale through your mouth, you spew your thoughts.

“And who told you that? Your loyal gang of servants over this morning’s breakfast? Crabbe and Goyle? Zabini perhaps? Is that why you avoided me in Potions today?”

Draco stops mid-step and glances down at the obsidian leather crafting the wholecut Oxford shoes laced at his feet. His inhale is just as sharp as your exhale had been and he spins on the heel so quickly that the violent whip of his robe is enough to take your breath away, even several steps away. His eyes laser in on you and the space between your bodies suddenly feels smaller. Tighter. Suffocating.

His strides are few, long and confident, and you know he’ll land in front of you before you have a chance to finalize your true opening argument. With the click, clack, clicking of his expensive shoes bringing him closer, you whimper.

“It doesn’t matter who told me. I want to know if it’s true. What they’re saying about you and Potter getting back together, dating again, and when you were planning to tell me. All these nights we’ve been sneaking about the castle together and you didn’t bother mentioning it,” he hisses the words in a rush and sneers at the thought of you with the oh so perfect chosen one while he’s left on the sidelines. “You didn’t tell me you were considering it, considering him again. You didn’t mention it on the observation deck of the Astronomy Tower, not in stacks of the Restricted Section, not in your dorm nor mine, and certainly not here, in this blasted corridor. Why not mention it a week ago when y—“

“Don’t finish that sentence, Draco,” you snarl.

His brows pinch at the challenge, but your eyes go wide in alert from the words you know were close to escaping his lips. Lewd and shameful they would have been had they reached the atmosphere. You glance up and down the seemingly void corridor with those same wild, worried eyes. You know how things can be twisted to snare even the brightest and most innocent of witches, but the words that clung to his tongue wouldn’t need to be twisted in order to ruin you both. Your quick search is fruitless and you let out a shaky sigh while rolling your shoulders back.

“I was going to tell you, Draco, that I was considering it… considering him, again.”

“When?” He demands. “Or were you going to wait until my tongue was halfway down your throat? Again.”

“Before, of course! Merlin… What kind of girl do you take me for, Draco?”

“You and I know exactly what kind of girl you are,” Draco retorts and studies you smugly.

His lips seal in a tight line and fire and ice blaze in the depths of his eyes before he spins once more and storms off in a blinding rage. You watch as he strides off prematurely, before hearing you out. He mutters something about how he knew things were too good to be true as he continues down the endless hall. You watch the way his hand clasps the nape of his neck under his long blonde hair and he keeps it there for a good while.

Once you gather your own thoughts, you hurry your strides in an attempt to mirror him, but you struggle to keep up with his head start and longer strides. The perks of being tall, you remind yourself. When you do catch up, he’s almost at the very end of the corridor, a dead end anyways, but you snatch him to a halt by the hood of his robe.

Draco falters and lets out a guttural groan when the sound of a ripping seam cuts through the silent air in response.

“You’ll pay for this, Y/ln!”

You feel prepared now. You’re ready to make your argument, to stand your ground, to explain yourself. You know that you have the right words sorted out and that with Draco cornered, he’ll have to listen.

Until he turns to face you.

His pink lips are pulled into a grimacing tight-lipped frown and an indented line appears down the center of his forehead where his thick brown brows are drawn together. His eyes shift over your features erratically before settling on yours, sharp like a double edged dagger ready to pierce. Two furious, impenetrable walls of frozen silver. Your body frosts over and you shrink where you stand. You struggle to meet his gaze and chew on the inside of your cheek as your mind goes blank.

You can’t think.

You can hardly breathe.

And when Draco opens his mouth, you wonder how you’re still alive when your heartbeat is racing so rapidly that your chest could easily explode.

“Tell me, Y/n,” he seethes.

A violent flame dances behind the walls of ice in his irises as his gaze flickers over the features of your face in frustration. Your lips are reddened and cracked from nibbling at them in nervousness and your nose appears swollen and puffed as if you’re attempting to hold back tears. Draco would usually swallow his pride seeing you in such a state, but he needs answers, so he settles on the wildness behind your dark eyes before continuing.

“Tell me,” he repeats. “When he fucks you, do you think of me?”

Your eyes dart towards his and your cheeks grow unbearably hot. You choke on the words as if you’re the one who dared spout them out. You’ve never experienced Draco this livid. You’d never heard his words become this vulgar, at least not with you, and that makes you all the more nervous. You’d convinced yourself that these nightly escapades meant nothing to him, that you were nothing more than a girl he could use or discard at his own will. He’s Draco Malfoy for heaven’s sake, and he could have any girl he pleased, that had come with the territory of having power and money at your disposal. You’d thought tonight would be the last night when you’d received his owl and that he’d be alright with that fact.

Clearly you’ve never been more wrong in your entire life.

You watch his tongue glide across the smooth plains of his natural pink lips and the fire blazing quietly in the torches overhead reflect a glistening orange on the thin coat of saliva left behind. You fixate on his features, from those shimmering lips up to the bridge of his nose. Your eyes roam up to the very roots of his platinum blonde hair before retracing your gaze and focusing on his eyes once more. They’ve softened a bit, not from the fire in the torches, but from the fire now kindling between you two.

He lets out a scoff as if he’s annoyed by you, as if you’ve been the pain in his arse all along. Before your brain can register the noise that escapes the base of his throat for a second time, he delves into you.

His lips are the first part of his body that comes into contact with yours. They’re warm against yours and so pillowy soft that you can’t bear pulling away. Instead, you bring your arms up to his collarbones and allow your index finger and thumb to mold into the curved base of his long neck. His artery pulses wildly underneath your grasp and your heart warms at the rhythmic expansion. You love the feeling, the palpitating of thick blood quickening through his body, underneath his skin, all livened by your touch.

Draco takes the final step to close your bodies together more comfortably and brings his arms around your waist to mold you into the perfect contours of his slender body.

“I can’t stop,” he mutters against your mouth and drops his lips into the crook of your neck. “I don’t want to stop, Y/n.”

He knows this will ruin you. It does every single time. With his lips against your neck and his words growing more desperate, lower and needier with each breath. You know exactly what he’s playing at. And yet, you allow your head to tilt back for more. More. More. And more. You’ll always need more of this, more of him. You rake a hand through the hairs lying against the nape of his neck. They’re course, yet silky in your gentle grasp and you close your eyes to the ceiling with a sweet smile as it drives him deeper into your flesh.

“Draco,” you purr.

He doesn’t bother responding with words. He only deepens the way he’s been working his lips against your flesh before allowing his burning tongue to trace a long column up the full length.

With this, you know exactly what is going to happen tonight and you take no desire in stopping it, not for Harry’s sake nor anyone else’s. In this very moment, it’s just you, Draco, and your desperate need for each other.

Need is a fickle thing and the need had begun long ago, long before your months of sneaking around to be together. It started when you were with Harry and Draco’s icy eyes would meet yours from across the room. Potions, the Great Hall, Herbology. Hell, even during their Quidditch practices. Somehow his eyes had always found yours in every room, and perhaps, some part buried deep inside of you liked it.

Every single glance had you feeling things Harry never made you feel during your three years of dating. It’s made you feel warm and dizzy as if you were going mad. Yet, nothing truly begun when you’d ended things with Harry. It’d been just before Christmas break. Harry planned to return home for its duration, so you had the comfort of knowing he’d be able to mend himself surrounded by those he loved, family and friends, while you stayed behind.

All your friends had called you mad when they discovered your frequent whereabouts—studying with Draco in the courtyards, his frequent smirks gifted across the dining tables during breakfast or dinner, his need to suddenly partner with you in Potions right after the break. You never truly expected them to understand the hungriness of your yearning for each other, that need for constant contact. Something in Draco’s presence had brought you back to a primal state of being, of craving and desire. Something feral melded in the deepest parts of your core and engraved itself in your very bones when his eyes met yours, but you couldn’t tell your friends that. So, instead of going behind Harry’s back, this is the alternative. This is freedom.

Draco takes a single step back and relishes the way you shiver when he releases a cool breath against the wet trail he’d left behind. He watches you slowly unravel from the ribbon of your high while shuffling out of his robe. Your eyes remain glassy and wide, glazed with lust as you work off his tie and snake it around your own neck before moving in to unbutton his shirt. The shiny black buttons are slick against your fingers as you round them out of each hole. One by one they expose a pinch more of his creamy white skin, so smooth and pale and familiar, and your mouth froths at the sight.

Draco manages to remove his belt from the buckle and unbutton his pressed trousers as you work at the buttons. By the time you’ve finished unhooking the last, his pants pool around his ankles with a soft thud. He backs you against an opening and hoists you up on the ledge of one of the many oversized lattice windows lining the corridor wall. Silver moonlight plays in the sharp grayish hues of his irises and you watch it as he focuses on you. He kneels to work your black stockings off and your stomach knots. He’s become quite the expert in doing this, managing to get the black fabric off and having your skirt and panties out of sight within seconds.

Draco smirks, a cocky smile that reflects his satisfaction after they plop onto the floor with a quiet thud. He drapes your legs over his forearms, hooking his arms underneath your knees, and stares into the void between your bodies. Your brows furrow as you study him. You swear you can sense worry creeping over his features. Perhaps the thought of you going behind Harry’s back has him rattled, or perhaps the idea of getting caught, even though you two never have before.

He relaxes his shoulders and lets out a sigh that would’ve gone unnoticed had you not been watching him. But the worry slips away just as quickly as it’d come, and in a few blinks of your eyes, the only evidence remaining is the gentle twinkle in his eyes when they finds yours again.

Murals of silvery grey fall upon you as the pressure between your thighs rings sharp. You need this just as much as he does. There are no games and the foreplay remains the small tiff you two just had as the aching pleasure of him slipping against you engulfs all your senses. You gasp in relief, eyes lowering at the feeling of his stiff sex gathering your sticky arousal. He teases your bottom lip with his tongue and grazes his chill breath over your warmth.

Draco watches you squirm uncomfortably on the stone ledge. He has to admit that this wasn’t the best place for sex and he hates the idea of your bare ass plastered on the dusty, frigid sandstone bricks, but he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t wait until one of you found a more respectful place to relieve yourselves. He couldn’t be bothered either when he��d led you to the stacks of the Restricted Section for the first time months ago during Christmas break, nor when he’d taken you in his dorm knowing his friend’s would be asleep in the same room. The list goes on, and yet, he needs you just the same now. He would’ve taken you in the Great Hall if he had to, would have risked everything to have lain you out like his own personal spread to devour whole. That’s how crazy you drive him, that’s how mad you make him feel, and he can’t wait another second. Not even when the idea of betraying Potter in such a way lurks heavily in the back of his mind, even after the whispers, the rumors of you two being back together. It’s the ultimate betrayal, but he cannot stop himself. He has no control over this.

Your mouth parts to let out a moan. As it does, Draco places his palm firmly over it, covering those beautiful lips and muting the sound before slithering between your decadent folds. His teeth sink into his bottom lip to rein in his own pleasure. You feel like a tight hug and he almost loses himself in the feeling. So warm, so comforting, so cruelly wet. Aside from the last fact, he’s sure this is what heaven feels like, what home should feel like, and he knows he can’t let this go. He can’t let this feeling of belonging be stripped away if he finally gets a say in it.

Your head rolls back with the first snap of his hips and you mewl softly. It’s only been two days and you’d magically forgotten how delicious and blissful the first taste of his cock is. You’d forgotten the pleasure in feeling his heat and hardness running deep along your walls and pulling your orgasm closer with each motion. He thrusts in again and your back arches. You watch your breaths fog against the exposed glass panes, weaving their own intricate patterns between ebony lattice, and it takes you back to the first time Draco had claimed your innocence.

On Christmas morning, after breakfast, you’d sent your owl from your dorm window with a letter that contained only two lines:

Restricted Section tonight.

Don’t be late, Malfoy.

Since that magical night in the stacks, you’ve never loved anything more. Every week for a month, you’d sought him out. It’d been pathetic, but you were unable to liberate yourself from the yearning of taking him again. Your need wouldn’t subside, even after you’d taken him. He’d turned you into this feral, insane being, and you found yourself chasing that body to body connection and the slow build up of your pleasure around his length endlessly.

Draco’s pants fill your ears with the sweetest melody as he plows into you, leaving no more room for nostalgia. With each violent rut of his hips, neither of you have the time to recover from the ecstasy prickling in your veins. The heat pooling in your core keeps your mind centered and your gaze focused on him.

“Draco...”

You watch him through heavy, lidded eyes, and your teeth sink into your bottom lip in a teasing grin as you watch his hips burst forward. The rhythmic sound of your skin colliding and his low howling heightens your senses. Suddenly, you’re keenly aware of the little ache unraveling like a ribbon in the pit of your belly, but also the bareness of his chest begging to be touched.

You glide your fingertips up the plain of his stomach, taking in the darkened hairs forming around the edges of his navel. You follow the faint trail up to his lanky chest, taking in the slight bit of muscle around his pecks before continuing up and over his shoulders. You curl yourself around him and trace circles over the bone when he falters closer. Beads of sweat form over the span on his forehead and you watch the way it collects like glistening raindrops against his scalp before trickling down streaks of his swaying platinum hair. You fight every instinct in order to spare him of the sensation of your fingers running throughout his hair and massaging into his scalp. He’d shutter in pleasure if you were to so, and right now, he doesn’t deserve the satisfaction.

Draco’s fingernails burrow into the flesh of your hips and you howl at the feeling, abandoning all prior thoughts. He thrusts forward. Harder. Deeper… Once. Twice. A third time for good measure. Then, again and again while a series of moans pour from your parted mouth.

“Tell me you won’t miss how good I make you feel?” He murmurs. “Isn’t that why you’re here tonight? Because poor little Potter cannot be bothered with pleasing his own woman? He should be treating you like the chosen one. Doesn’t he know you are?”

You bite into your lip again, but this time it’s to keep your mouth shut. You know there’s no use in telling him the truth, that Harry hadn’t as much as lain a finger on you in this way. Not once in all the three years you’d been together. Though, you know he’s wanted to. Draco is the only one that’s ever had you this way, completely defiled you, talked you down, brought you to your lowest and highest all at once.

Your eyes roll again as Draco steadies out his rhythm to catch his breath.

Surely the portraits will spread word in the morning of how they heard students moaning and followed the sound after seeing you and Draco disappear down an unlined corridor moments before. You’ll have to talk to Harry and admit it. That’s one thing you’re certain of. If you don’t, they’ll call you scandalous and Draco would get it worse. Dumbledore may even have to expel you faster than Professor Snape can chastise Malfoy for his lewd, unacceptable actions, in which his father, Lucius, will truly not want to hear about.

“Shit…” he hisses. His eyes snap shut and his lips tremor with his ragged pants. His nose crinkles and the movement of his hips grow erratic once again. With his grip tightening on your flesh, he lets out a low groan. “I’ve almost forgotten how good you feel. I might blow my load inside of you… teach you a lesson.”

“You will not,” you protest, straight faced and using all your strength to not react to the pleasure radiating throughout your body. “Draco, we can’t.”

“Or what? You’ll curse me?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Draco sneers and leans down until his face is hovering above yours. He allows your ankles to rest against his shoulders, knees parallel to the ceiling. He watches the way you fight every instinct of pleasure, how you keep your eyes on his instead of allowing them to sink back, how you hold his triceps when you want nothing more than to have your hands grasping your aching breasts or to have them wrapped tightly around the base of his throat. He chuckles at the fact that you wish to moan, but your duty to privacy holds steady, keeps you quiet and whimpering instead of letting loose. And he watches in amusement as you slowly unravel with every swift and sharp stroke of his hips. As he does, he begins to realize just how much he actually cares about you.

“Tell him you’re mine,” Draco demands. “Tell me and tonight you’ll tell him so I can spend all day showing you how well I treat my personal possessions.”

“Oh yeah?” You tease. “Is that right, Draco?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

You let out a sharp giggle and rope him in closer by the back of his neck, so close that you can take in every breath exhaling from his lungs and pull them into your own. You watch the way the iciness in his eyes melts away and glaze over with something more warm and comforting. And your core ripples at the possibility of something more than lust looming between the both of you.

“Don’t tell me you’re this close already,” he complains, truly embarrassed for you by the look of annoyance in his eyes.

“Mmm… I think I am,” you whimper and grasp the lapels of his crinkled button up to yank him a breath closer. “Fill me up, Draco…”

He scoffs.

He is truly embarrassed for you, but you wish he could see himself panting, slicked with sweat, eyes soft, and looking so sexy whilst buried between your thighs. He’s the portrait of pathetic and you know you should make him beg.

“Beg,” you croak and yank him down until his lips are just above yours.

Your throat stings, sore and scratchy from attempting to leave it shut as Draco plowed through your slick folds one thrust at a time.

“You’re insane,” he chuckles and glimpses down at your reddened lips.

“Only for you,” you whisper and swallow a moan as you caress the sharpness of his cheeks. “Make me yours, Draco.”

His lips tug into a sharp smile and he presses his lips against yours hard and hungrily. He’s tired of your games. Perhaps he realized that much sooner than tonight and the thought of losing you had become too unbearable for him.

“Fuck,” he huffs into the sticky air between the both of you before reclaiming your lips.

“Love your cock being buried inside of me, Draco.”

You finally moan against him. After all, you aren’t evil enough to keep edging yourself when you’re both this close. He pulls his mouth away, panting heavily as he plants his palms on either side of you and stiffens.

“Are you finished?”

You nod, knowing exactly what he means. It only confirms that he’s serious now, serious in showing you exactly how he takes care of what’s his.

He glances down at his hardened length, only the tip remains hidden inside of your depths, and the rest gleams in your sticky, sweet arousal. He wants to taste you, but more than anything, he wants to bury his load deep inside of you. He wants it so deep that it doesn’t dare to trickle out. He doesn’t care about the consequences this close to graduation; he only cares about you filled to the brim with a piece of him, no matter what it is.

He thrusts inside and watches the way you swallow him greedily. Then, repeats the action again and again in a rapid rock of his hips. He senses your falling apart—legs trembling against his body, eyes softening to a roll, your arousal warming to slick wetness, scorching hot with each plunge. He takes pride in his string of thrusts, delivering them in a steady rhythm. Though, he wishes to tear you apart, your freed moans keep him from doing so. They guide him and keep him steady like music in his ears.

He grasps your chin and pulls your lazy gaze back to him.

“Keep your eyes right here, darling,” he demands sternly. “I want to see the way they roll when you release.”

With clenched teeth, you attempt to snatch your chin back, but he keeps his grip firm and your maneuver hardly wavers as he picks up speed with a groan and chuckle.

“You thought I’d let you dominate me?” He teases, his chuckle cutting through your moans. “I almost had you convinced. But don’t forget, my love, I’m always in control. No one tells me what to do.”

You whimper as he presses a thumb into your mouth to pacify you before ripping through your depths. His thrusts grow quicker with each second and you have no time to recoup from the pleasure prickling through your veins and pulsating in every corner of your being like liquid fire. Just as your eyes begin to roll, Draco snatches your jaw, showing just how much in control he truly is.

“I wish Potter could see how well you take me,” he pants cockily. “Just imagine if he knew the way I fit inside of you. So perfectly, if I do say so myself. You should see the way your cunt grips around my cock. You should see how wet you are for me. I dare you.”

You hum against his thumb and the vibration ricochets through you in a deep wave as you dare to glimpse between your thighs. You catch sight of his cock, a pulsing red with a vein so thick that it looks as though it hurts, and your arousal coating the surface in a glistening sweetness. Draco watches with you and your head spins.

“It’s been two days since I’ve felt you tightening around me. I can’t wait to feel it again.”

You keep your lips clasped tightly around his thumb. Your mind can hardly think of a quip, let alone find any words to overpower him. You don’t want to. You focus on the way his cock feels slipping in and out of your depths at different lengths, growing unsteady with each sway of his hips. You focus on his silver eyes staring into yours and his mocking grin as you finally come to terms with the fact that you are his. You’ve always been his. He’s just known it much longer than you have.

A bead of sweat drips from the tip of his swapping bangs and plops against your bare stomach. Draco chuckles and slicks his damp hair back with one hand while using his thumb on the other to massage the moisture into your skin. He presses in with a bit more pressure in attempt to feel himself plunging in and out of you. He keeps his thumb pressed firmly against you and steadies himself until he feels the motion underneath it. In and out. In and out, bulging at the center of your tightening core.

“Perhaps one day you’ll write about how well you take me,” he purrs. “And we’ll fill our library with books on our lovemaking.”

“I’m sure such books already exist,” you gasp, recalling all the steamy muggle romances you’d read over the summer.

“Then you’ll read one to me one of these days. Share your findings?”

“I’d rather show you,” you whisper.

He smiles, almost faltering before regaining his composure and finding your hips again.

“Draco?”

“Mhm?”

“Tell me I’m your favorite,” you mutter and buck up against him.

He stops suddenly and his nails dig deep into your pillowy flesh. You feel his cock twitch deep inside of you and you smirk when his eyes land on yours again.

“Being sneaky are we?” He muses and rams into you.

His palm finds your mouth again just before a bloodcurdling moan slips out.

He does it again with a teasing smile.

Then again.

And again.

And again until you’re whimpering and trembling around him. You reach for his forearm, but he denies it and presses into you harder.

Your eyes roll and you grasp the ledge underneath yourself, but it’s too hard. You go for his wrist, the same one allowing his hand to keep you almost silenced. You shiver around him and your thighs go limp against his thrusts. It’s not long after that his pants turn into a sharp hiss and a new heat overwhelms you.

Draco falters on top of you and stares straight into your eyes as he fills you up to the brim with his warm seed. You search his eyes for any form of deceit, but you find none. There never has been, not when it came to you and him.

His hand slowly retreats and you let out a loud inhale, taking in the dusty air of the corridor before slinging your arms around his neck and rushing your lips against his. He tastes of tart apples, salty sweat, and the sticky strawberry taste of your lipgloss. You never knew you needed to taste such a combination, but if it came from him, you’d take it. You’d take it all.

“Y/n,” he mumbles.

“Yes, Draco?”

His eyes focus on yours as if the stars he’d once seen dancing around your face are slowly subsiding, and the cloudiness of lust and desire fade.

“You truly are my favorite,” he breathes and runs a hand through your curls before peppering your lips with kisses. “And I plan to keep it that way.”

And somewhere deep in your gut, you have a feeling this won’t be the last time you hear those words, especially since you’d forgotten to confirm that it had only been a rumor going around the school, mere whispers. Someone had lied about you dating Harry again, but you don’t mind when the result of it brought Draco crawling back to you.

Please be sure to check out my other latest fanfics:

⚡︎ Lost Love (m.) - Lucien Vanserra x Rhysand x reader

⚡︎ Rain Does Not Fall on One Roof Alone (m.) - Ominis Gaunt x Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ Perfect Storm (m.) - Ominis Gaunt x reader

⚡︎ Untitled (m.) - Sebastian Sallow x Ominis Gaunt x reader

⚡︎ Coffee (Love You a Latte) - Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ Golden - Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ For You Always (m.) - Severus Snape x reader

~ Navi: masterlist (all fandoms)

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! ♡

December 2024

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hotchfiles · 1 year ago

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i have three writing reqs (stiles, seth, isaac) and two story edit ones (sirius & remus) that i'm gonna post tomorrow!

so i'm gonna bump this in case anyone wants to request more stuff <3 heh and also so you know what i have on my inbox rn in case tumblr ate yours!

LARI'S 100TH BASH !

i started this blog on december 8th, one month in, 15k+ words written, a lot of shitposting, and ONE HUNDRED FOLLOWERS? this is sickening, i don't know why you guys follow me but i'm so so grateful. so let's drink some wine, write & then go dance ritualistically around some rocks.

⋆.˚ character list for our little get together:

remus lupin, james potter, sirius black

draco malfoy, neville longbottom

stiles stilinski, isaac lahey

seth cohen

THE GAMES

ִ ࣪𖤐 send me a song + one of my boys for a drabble based on it!

ִ ࣪𖤐 send me one of my boys + a bit of info about you for three (3) modern!au instagram stories he would post.

ִ ࣪𖤐 send me a ♪ + one of my boys for a song that makes me think of him.

THE WRITING

our prompt list for our bash! send one of them + one of the boys for a blurb. will try to get all of them to 1k+ wc, no promises.

THE CURIOUS MIND

and i will gladly answer questions! any questions, but this list looks fun!

event starts NOW and will be going on until the very end of the month!

once again,

THANK YOU.

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ginevrapng · 1 year ago

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boyfriend!neville loves overstimulating you. there's nothing better than having his sweet girlfriend lying on his bed while he pulls multiple orgasms out of you. "neville please i can't take any more," you whine. you've just came for the fourth time and he's already touching you again, pressing two of his fingers inside you.

neville hushes you and kisses down your body before taking one of his nipples in your mouth and biting. you squeal and grab hold of his hair. "you know the rules petal keep your hands down or i'll tie them up." you keep your hands to your side and do your best to listen to neville. neville removes his mouth from your nipple but starts placing kisses down your body. he holds your body down by your love handles, occasionally squeezing your soft skin between his fingers. he always touches you in a way that makes you feel loved and special, like you're the most beautiful girl in the world. "you're so bloody pretty petal. you look like a goddess." your face heats up at the compliment.

neville continues leaving kisses down your body until he reaches your pussy and pushes two fingers back inside you causing you to gasp and grab hold of his arm. neville tuts at your action as you go to apologise, " 'm sorry nev just feels s'good.

"keep your hands by your side, i'm not going to tell you again. do you understand?" he says sternly still fingering you. you quickly nod your head. neville gently pinches one of your plush thighs with his other hand. "do you understand?"

"i-i understand. i promise i'll be good nev!" you reply and clench your hands into fists, consciously keeping them by your side. neville hums and places a loving kiss on your cheek, before mumbling against your cheek about how you're such a girl good for him.

neville lowers down your body and starts giving you head, precisely, just the way you like it, the way that leaves your toes curling and your voice hoarse as you scream his name. neville sucks your clit all while continuing plunging two fingers inside your pussy. "please neville, it's too much! i can't take it!" you whine loudly holding tightly onto the bedsheets.

"you can take it flower," he tells you, you can feel the vibrations of his words against your clit causing you to shiver. neville holds the back of your thick thighs and wraps his arms around them before pulling you even closer to him and returning his hands to your love handles and cunt. he feels you clench around him tightly and he spots the other telltale signs that you're about to cum. your cute noises are getting louder and you're breathing heavier, you're squirming more and squeezing your eyes hard. "let go f'me flower. you can do it." the coil that was previously winding up inside of you snaps and you hips arch up as you shake, your eyes go blurry as you cum again for the fifth time in an hour.

"good girl, good girl," he strokes your arm and kisses your hip. as you calm down and your breathing evens out he gently rubs your clit.

tears stream down your face, "no, no, no, nev please. i can't."

he kisses your hip again. "one more petal. you can give me another one right?" you whimper and nod your head before asking for a kiss.

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isaacarellanesismyhusband · 7 months ago

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how the hp boys would react when they find out you have a crush on them

masterlist | navigation

❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

Harry Potter

Harry's day takes an unexpected turn when Seamus casually mentions that the younger student, who's always been kind and friendly to him, might have a crush on him. At first, he laughs it off, thinking it's just a rumor, but when Ron confirms that he's heard the same thing, Harry’s heart starts racing. He can’t help but replay every interaction with you in his head, realizing there might have been subtle hints he missed. Harry isn't sure what to do; part of him is flattered, and another part is nervous. He’s always admired your kindness and intelligence, and now, knowing how you feel, he becomes more aware of his own feelings. Over the next few days, Harry starts paying closer attention to you, growing more awkward but also more interested, trying to figure out his next move.

Ron Weasley

Ron overhears some third-years gossiping about how you, the girl from his study group, have a bit of a crush on him. He immediately goes red, both from embarrassment and the unfamiliarity of the situation. He's never been great at reading signals, so the thought that someone likes him catches him off guard. At first, he brushes it off, thinking it must be a joke, but when Hermione reassures him that it’s true, he can’t stop thinking about it. The next time he sees you in the common room, he’s noticeably flustered, fumbling his words and trying to act cool, which only makes him more endearing. Despite his awkwardness, Ron can’t help but feel a little pleased, and over time, he starts to warm up to the idea, maybe even considering how to approach you about it.

Draco Malfoy

Draco is lounging in the Slytherin common room when Pansy Parkinson, with a sly grin, tells him that a younger Gryffindor girl has a crush on him. At first, he scoffs, dismissing it as irrelevant, but later, when he realizes it’s you—a girl he’s actually noticed for your sharp wit and surprising bravery—he becomes intrigued. Draco isn't one to openly show interest, but now, every time he sees you in the corridors or during meals, he’s more aware of your presence. He might tease you more, dropping subtle hints to see how you react, trying to gauge your feelings. Though he maintains his cool exterior, Draco can’t help but feel a thrill at the idea of someone like you liking him, and he starts thinking about how to use this to his advantage, or perhaps, how he might actually feel about you.

Neville Longbottom

Neville is in the library when he overhears some girls from your year talking about how you have a crush on him. His immediate reaction is disbelief; he’s never considered himself someone people would have a crush on. Nervously adjusting his collar, Neville tries to focus on his Herbology notes, but he can’t stop thinking about it. He’s always liked you—how could he not? You’re kind, and your encouragement during classes has always meant a lot to him. But now, knowing you might feel the same way, Neville starts to become more confident around you. He’ll blush whenever you’re near but will also make more of an effort to talk to you, even inviting you to study sessions in the greenhouse. Though he’s shy, Neville is secretly thrilled, and the thought of you liking him makes him smile more than usual.

Cedric Diggory

Cedric is chatting with his Hufflepuff friends when one of them mentions that you, a sweet younger student from Ravenclaw, have a bit of a crush on him. He’s flattered, of course—he’s used to a bit of attention—but the thought of you, someone he’s always admired for your intelligence and grace, having feelings for him makes him pause. Cedric is the type to handle this situation with kindness and maturity. The next time he sees you, he’ll go out of his way to be friendly, making sure you feel comfortable around him. He might even drop a few hints that he’s aware of your feelings, just to see how you react. Cedric would be careful not to lead you on if he wasn’t interested, but in this case, he finds himself considering the possibility of getting to know you better, as your crush on him sparks something within himself.

Fred Weasley

Fred is busy planning a prank with George when Lee Jordan casually drops the bomb that you have a crush on him. Fred’s reaction is immediate—he grins widely, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He’s always liked you; after all, you’re fun to be around and have a sharp sense of humor. But now, knowing that you like him back, Fred is going to make the most of it. The next time he sees you, he’s teasing you more than ever, dropping playful hints and watching with delight as you blush. Fred isn’t one to be subtle, so you might find little jokes or pranks with double meanings aimed your way. But beneath the fun and games, Fred’s genuinely pleased and interested, and he starts looking for ways to spend more time with you, always with that signature Weasley charm.

George Weasley

George finds out from Angelina that you have a crush on him, and his reaction is a mix of surprise and amusement. He’s always thought you were a cool person, but now, knowing you like him, he can’t help but feel a bit shy—though he’ll never admit it. Unlike Fred, George is more low-key in his approach. He’ll still joke around with you, but his teasing becomes a bit more affectionate, and he might try to find moments where it’s just the two of you. George is more thoughtful than his twin, so he’ll start to notice the little things about you that he hadn’t before, and he might even drop by your common room to say hi more often. Though he keeps things lighthearted, George’s actions show he’s interested, and he’s thinking about how to take things a step further.

Oliver Wood

Oliver is coming off the Quidditch pitch when a teammate mentions that you’ve been seen watching the practices more often, and that you might have a crush on him. Oliver is immediately intrigued. He’s so focused on Quidditch that he hasn’t noticed much else, but now, he’s paying attention. He remembers how you’ve always been supportive, cheering for the team, and he’s flattered. The next time he sees you, he’s extra charming, asking if you’d like to join the team for a post-practice hangout. Oliver is confident and direct, so he might just ask you outright if the rumors are true, but he does it with a playful smile to keep things light. If he finds out you do like him, Oliver’s quick to make his interest known too, inviting you to more Quidditch-related activities and finding excuses to spend time with you outside of the game.

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rainydayathogwarts · 1 year ago

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neville longbottom smut

reader makes Neville cum in his pants at a party. warnings: dry humping, whimpering, public sex(?), swearing 0.9k+ wc

Your body sways to the music, the plastic cup in your hand spilling some of your drink onto your hand, but it only blends in with the shimmering glint of sweat on your skin. You're dancing with some girl you don't recognise, singing the words to a song at the top of your lungs. You look around, trying to spot your boyfriend in the crowd, to make sure he's not doing anything he shouldn't be, only to notice him sitting on an armchair next to the fireplace, his eyes already on you.

He meets your gaze and your body suddenly goes hot, despite the warmth from the alcohol that had already settled in. He was keeping an eye on you, butterbeer in hand, not focused on anything else. You grin, pushing your way through the dance floor until you finally stumble away from the crowd of sweaty bodies and into the more dispersed area of the busy common room. You giggle when you approach Neville, watching as his eyes run along you figure. You down the rest of your drink, putting the now empty cut next to what you assumed was the empty bottle butter beer Neville had already had. "You okay sweetheart?" He asks and you nod, shifting to stand between his legs.

He sits up straight to put his hands on the back of your thighs, pulling you slightly closer to him; the most affection he'd giving you tonight. He offers you a sip of butterbeer but you decline, watching as he brings his lips to the bottle, his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows, before putting the bottle aside. You bring a hand up to play with his hair as your hips start moving again, the other arm on his shoulder. You look down at the boy below you and sigh in pleasure as his hands start moving up and down your thighs.

His head leans on your lower stomach, his attention caught by the dancing bodies. You furrow your eyebrows, glancing over at the dance floor to look at all the girls in their tight dresses. You huff. The hand you have in his hair closes moderately into a fist and you tug it backwards slightly, making Neville look up at you, only to be met by your lips slamming down onto his. He moans loudly, his hands on your thighs moving so his arms can wrap around you.

His mouth immediately opens to welcome your tongue in and you put your weight onto him, pushing him back into the armchair as you climb onto him, your legs coming on either side of his thighs as you straddle him. Neville whimpers, the sound drowned by the music, his arms tightly wrapping themselves around your waist to pull you impossibly closer. And he does, dragging you across his lap so your panty-clad cunt grinds against his fully clothed dick.

You both moan into each other, and you feel your boyfriend's usually gentle hands travel down to your ass, roughly gripping it. You grind against Neville once more to see how comfortable he is with this, and he separates from the kiss to gasp for air, his mouth open in a silent moan. Your eyes scan the room, checking to see if you had attracted anyone's unwanted eyes, but your attention is brought back to Neville, who tugs your dress further down your thighs, having ridden up when you straddled him.

When you make eye contact with him again, his eyes are begging you to continue your movements and so is the tent in his pants. You push your hips down onto his and moan quietly, biting your lip. Neville's eyes widen and he looks around for a second before turning his attention back to you, a hand coming behind your neck to pull you into a kiss, the other one pushing your hips into his.

He gently humps his hips up into yours to encourage your movements, grunting as though he has never had your legs spread for him, and you dig your face into the crook of his neck, letting out a breathy moan. Your hot breath on his neck sends shivers down Neville's spine and he pants, leaning his head on your shoulder and looking down through the top of your dress. He whines, eyes widening at the sight of your tits, his hands immediately coming up to grope them. You let out a high pitched moan when he squeezes one of your perky nipple, hips bucking into his desperately, so that your pussy grinds right against the tent in his jeans, feeling the imprint of his cock against you.

Neville bites your shoulder to cover the loud whimpers that come out of him, hands gripping your thighs as he roughly bucks his hips into yours. That's when you feel the wetness on his jeans, this time not coming from you, and you grin proudly, pulling Neville into a kiss. He returns the kiss, still panting, his hands now softly caressing your sides. When you both separate from the kiss and Neville finally catches his breath, he says "How about we go upstairs and I can finish you off?"

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claywriting · 1 year ago

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Look out for me

the second part of this fic, you can find the first here

3500 words

after ending in detention with professor umbridge Y/N start to hang out with the Weasley twins, kind of leaving behind her friend, too entangled with the new situation. But what will this came to?

CHAPTER TWO

Seeing the twins hanging around with Y/n, glued with them, was weird. Yes, the girl always had an attitude for chaos, for explosion and her laugh always echoed in the corridors of the castle, reclaiming the attention, reclaiming the looks of her peers. Was kind of obvious, she was the other half of one of the most popular duo in the school; she and Ginny made heads turn, when they passed in the halls, the Weasley with the longest legs, mesmerizing smile; and her friend with the silkiest hair and a laugh so contagious that would have made the statues in the castle laugh too.

But from a month or so the girl was hanging around with the wrong Weasleys, the two older brothers of Ginny and Ron, the two most notorious troublemaker in the school. She was always next to them, at the meals, in the pauses between lessons, during their free days in Hogsmeade, it was like the girl had glued herself in the middle of the duo, making him become a trio. No one was happy about it. Ginny wasn’t, Hermione wasn’t, Lee wasn’t, but the most unhappy was for sure Neville, which looked like was founding a sport, becoming champion in looking for the trio in the corridors, and then become all grumpy once spotted. It was kind of a weird look, seeing the boy, usually too timid to let go any other emotion than embarrass, all grumpy and moody; so, he started to hang out way less with the other Gryffindor, preferring to spend his free time in the green-house, sometimes accompanied by Ginny and Luna, which just sat there to study, while listening their friend rumble about something in half voice.

It went of like that for a month or so, before Ginny decided she was full of that shit, and decided to take the matter into her own hands. Seeing Neville miserable, moping around every time he saw the trio in the halls was a show she grew tired pretty fast. So, one night she waited for her friend on her bed, her arms crossed and the face her mother used to wear when she was about to lecture one of her children. It took long, Y/n came into her own room late at night, after the curfew, and despite being quite stealthy two sarcastic coff claimed her attention the right moment she put her foot inside the room. She did a little jump, not expecting to find someone awake, and a little light arise from her wand, lighting up Ginny on her bed, looking at her friend.

“We need to talk.” Simply said the redhead, getting up from her bed to descend into the common room, followed by a confused Y/n. The two did the stairs in silence, Ginny going first, and when both sat on the sofa, in front of the half dead fire she looked at her friend serious.

“Listen, and don’t get angry.” Started Ginny without leaving her friend the time to understand what was this about “Believe me I know my brothers do this effect. They suck you in their shenanigans, and I’m well aware that it all looks so cool, while doing it. I don’t judge you for this but… I miss you. You always spend all your time with them, I nearly don’t have a best friend anymore. Even during the Hogsmeade day you prefer their company, I…” she hesitated, looking into her eyes, thinking about the right words “Listen, I know… he will kill me, I mean, he would kill me if he knew how to held his hand; but do you know that Crabbe and Goyle last week waited Neville outside the green house to torment him? Everyone knows you are hanging around with my brothers, but I miss you, I miss you, Hermione miss you, Neville miss you.” She paused, “He told me that he doesn’t care about going around alone, neither being picked on from those idiots, but he misses your chatter in the halls; and I miss those too. Can… you pleas return to hang out with us?” ended in a hopeful tone, grabbing her friend hands, and looking her in the eyes. In those she found remorse, and sadness.

Y/n sent her arms around her friend neck, hugging her tightly. “I’m so sorry” she cried, hiding her nose inside Ginny’s neck, on the verge of tears. “Oh, I’ve been a terrible, horrible friend. I’m so, so, so very sorry Gin. I… didn’t even notice, the twins are just so much, I always felt like I was drunk around them, and I’ve let them intoxicate me. I’m so stupid.”

“Hey, now” she laughed softly, patting her friend’s back “it’s my brothers you are talking about, not fire whisky, c’mon.”

“But it’s true, once you feel part of the stunts it’s so difficult to step back, it’s just so funny and… I’m sorry. Really.” She shook her head, cleaning her eyes from the small tears that had formed. “From tomorrow I’ll be back being your shadow, I promise. And I’ll go talk to Neville to, I can’t believe he didn’t tell me about those two gits!” added getting up, and giving her friend a hand, to help her get up too. “Let’s go to bed, now. Tomorrow I’ll fix everything, I swear.”

The next day Y/n kept her words, she didn’t talked with the Twins, sitting not far from them, but near Ginny both at breakfast and lunch, but the three kept smile at each other. About Neville, however she didn’t catch a sign of him the whole day. The day slip between her fingers like water, the lessons of the morning let her with a sense of something missing, she was understanding that in the past weeks her mind was so full of pranks and schemes that she had left behind her academics, only her quidditch didn’t rusted. The question in her head just one, were the twins two geniuses? She had no other way to understand how they managed to keep all their invention and pranks work, while going not bad at school AND being in the regular team of quidditch, so playing every damn match. There weren’t any other explanation, those two were well above the other students.

But she wasn’t, and with the DA and quidditch she already felt herself fall behind her classmates, so she decided that she was doing the right thing, she could just keep talking to them during the trainings, and during meals.

Those were the thinking that were filling her mind while she trotted in the direction of the greenhouse. Two problems were solved, Ginny wasn’t angry, the twins weren’t angry. She only hoped that Neville would been understandable as well, not getting angry. Happily she descended the stairs that lead to the greenhouse, her books under hands and a smile on her lips, and approached the door of the first structure. The greenhouse zone was gigantic, and she knew she could have to look for him for some time, before, she hoped, the two of them had to leave to go together at the last DA meeting before Christmas.

With as much stealth as she could she entered in the first structure, at the ground floor, and started looking around, careful to not touch any of those plants, turning up her nose, not being very fond of the subject. She wandered around, in silence, and having decided that on that floor there were no one she took the stairs, going up to the first floor, where she started to wander once again. It took some time to do the whole turn around the greenhouse, and she was now sure that he wasn’t there when a knowing voice reclaimed her attention, and she leant over the handrail, to look at the lower floor.

There stood Neville, laughing about something in a muffled voice, his hand in front of his mouth and his cheeks red, perhaps from the too much laughing, or because of the hand that a blonde Hufflepuff girl had on his forearm, to keep her steady while she was laughing with him. Y/n stood here, almost in shock, looking at the two, a heartache suddenly make her need to have a seat, but at the same time she found herself unable to look away from the scene under her. She discovered that jealousy left a very acrid taste in the mouth, and make the hands twitch while the eyes stings. She never knew, or better, she never knew that jealousy could be that strong for a friend. She already proved jealousy, she had some crush in her life, she remember the distraught sighs she used to unleash watching the twins dancing with their dates, and earlier that same year she remembered watching Harry ogling over Cho with a sting of jealousy; not because she fancied the boy, but dreaming, perhaps in a childish way, to have someone that looked at her like that.

But this, she decided, was a new kind of jealousy, the one kind she didn’t feel like to ignore, to walk with the two of them to the meeting, so she get up on her wobbling legs and left, leaving behind her the two plant lovers, talking with one another. She didn’t spare a look at the greenhouse, nor to the Slytherin outside of it, that followed her with their eyes, soft smile forming on their lips while words impossible to hear came out of their mouth. She just left, alone and angry, challenging everyone to step in the middle of her run, to talk to her. Nobody did, nobody stopped her, talked to her, looked at her. She felt alone.

The room of requirement was stuffed with people, the DA was almost already gathkered here to the lesson of the day, the spells flowing from left to right in the room, the people screaming, laughing; and in an angle, by herself, Y/n was testing a refined fire spell, exercising her control. She knew, Harry knew, Ginny, Hermione, Ron, the Twins and all the rest knew that the girl was raw power, her spells the fastest and strongest of the students in the group, but not controlled, not fined, not precise. She could make three walls one after the other explode like it was nothing, but when the other managed to make pass their spells inside a metal ring without causing damage; she would make the thing explode in hundreds of pieces. When Luna could make her levitate in the middle of the air, gracefully, she shouted her poor companion into the ceiling, and then released them into the floor with no grace. When Hermione managed to make her aguamenti took the form of a beautiful horse she would create a wave so big that could draw everyone inside the room. When Ron expelliarmus made the wand of his opponent fly directly in his open hand, hers shouted the wand of the opponent inside a wall, physically.

She was embarrassed.

So that day she decided to sit by herself in an angle, only a small table in front of her and her wand in hand, held as she would hold a knife, so strongly that her knuckles had became white, her forehead sweating, sticking her hair to her skin. The flames in front of her dancing softly. “Engrogio” she whispered to her wand, and fast enough the flame erupted toward the ceiling, reclaiming the attention inside the room, making everyone move their head to the girl. Her cheeks reddened, in shame. Hermione was fast to kill the danger, sending a knowing look at the girl, once the flame had returned to a smaller figure.

“You lack control.” Spoke Harry coming closer.

“Don’t you say.” Is the snarky answer that greeted him. A grin lifted the corners of three lips, as the twins and Ginny looked at the scene.

“She is going to eat him alive.” Someone whispered.

But just in that moment the doors of the room opened once again, letting inside Neville, that was carrying a huge vase, followed by some Hufflepuff girl laughing at something he would have said during the route. Once again the flame near Y/n exploded like a firework, a powerful swoosh that made everyone shout their mouth, looking at her with wide eyes. The flames moved near the head of the girl, caressing her hair and casting moving shadows on her visage, her eyes usually bright looked like two dark caves shadowed in her face, but somehow the image of the fire reflecting on her skin make her look like some sort of ancient divinity of chaos and revenge.

“Aguamenti.” Shouted in synchro Hermione and Harry, pointing the wand to the blazing flames, extinguishing them for good, leaving a little smell of smoke and steam in the air.

“What in the bloody hell was that?” asked Ron elbowing to get closer, his eyes widened, and the face white. She was feeling all of the eyes in the room pointed on her; but felt unable to move her gaze from her friend and the blonde girl who just entered in the room. Felt the redness of her face rose once again, and hoped that could be attributed to the fire that, just now, almost burned her. Y/n lowered her gaze, mumbling some apologies, unable to sustain the look everyone was giving her, in particular the shocked look of the boy and the smug one that Ginny reserved only to her friend, confident on her right opinion.

“She just lost control of the spell.” Tried to defend her Luna, “We know she has problem, with it.”

Somehow the defence only worsened the ache in her chest, being pointed as the one who could not handle her own spell was no pride. Every respectable duellist knew that, even she.

“Y/n blossom in the middle of the chaos, when she can use her spell at a fast rate, not under the pressure of being controlling,” Ginny rose to speak “if I had to choose someone to fight alongside she would be the one.”

In the meantime, the rest of the students seeing the danger ended turned to do what they were.

“She would risk killing you too.” Answered Hermione, while the girl felt her cheeks reddens even more. “Perhaps we should focus more on control,” she moved her head in the direction of the boy at her right “Harry?”

The boy-who-lived nodded, putting a hand under his chin “Perhaps… how about a duel?”

Hermione looked at him as he went mad. “A duel?”

“Against someone she doesn’t want to hurt. She’ll be forced by herself to hold back.”

“That’s idiotic.” One of the twins said getting closer the hands shoved in the pockets of his trousers.

“Ye, Y/n hates every one of us.” Added the other half of the redhead pair. The girl showed them her middle finger, causing some laugh from the two. “I mean, she punched everyone in this room.” The small group sent a look around the space, thinking, with Ginny’s arm around her friend’s shoulders.

“That… that’s not true.” A timid voice spoke, as Neville got closer. “She never punched me.” Smiled him, to the girl, which shook her head.

“That’s true. Maybe Neville is what is needed for Y/n, maybe he can handle her spells.” Said a voice near to Y/n’s ear.

“I mean, we already have worked together during the meetings.” Added the boy with a smile, looking hopeful at his friend.

She shook her head. “I never cast when we work together,” answered her “whit no one, not since I sent Fred into the wall.” She gives one of the twins a look of sorrow, but met a finger that pointed the other, so she scoffed and returned to talk, “I don’t want to hurt Nev.” added reinforcing the grip on her wand.

“I can handle it.”

“I can’t.” answered the girl hardly.

“I will.” Offered Ginny. “She’s my best friend, won’t hurt me.” Many worried looks set on the girl, but she didn’t move herself, only sent a look in Neville’s direction, telling him something only with the eyes. The boy shut his mouth, and Y/n slowly nodded.

“If you are sure… if you need to make me duel someone, I would have preferred kicking Harry’s butt, but as you wish.” An arid laugh left her, as she moved a strand of hair behind her ear.

In no time the middle of the Requirement Room got evacuated, leaving place for the two girls to face themselves, the wand high in front of their faces, ready, waiting for Harry’s signal to start. Y/n’s face looked like she was about to have a stroke, her hand trembling slightly and once again her wand was kept so hardly that looked like it was about to break in half. Ginny’s look was completely different, almost relaxed. Around the both of them, on the floor, a circle was drawn, and the purpose of the exercise, sending the other just out the line, for Y/n; for Ginny sending her friends out of the circle, whatever it takes. One had to keep herself under control, the other had to let herself go.

When Harry clapped his hand Ginny’s started to blast spell first, Y/n just focusing on deviate the ones that came near to her, trying to not hit someone by doing so. Screams emerged from around them, while the two moved around the circle, one still launching spells, and the other only deflecting them. It was clearly an impair fight, Ginny already had the victory on her; as she was duelling against someone who was focusing only on defensive spells, which weren’t her area of expertise. Just once Y/n lifted her wand, exasperated, to hit her friend, casting a levicorpus that sent Ginny fling in the air, but let go almost immediately, afraid of hurting her, and that give the redhead the time to send against her friend a jinks that hit her like a punch on the nose, leaving with the part swallow and bleeding; but none of them stopped. Slowly Y/n, attack after attack received, started to send her friend some offensive spells, but it was easy to see she wasn’t really aiming Ginny, but more the walls behind her. Nonetheless, some student had to jump away from the paths of the spells, to not be caught as a collateral victim.

It was after a spell that was particularly difficult to dodge that Ginny manage to sent the final blow on her opponent, the stupeficium spell hit Y/n’s face sending her fly back for some meters, and crashing ruinously on the floor of the Room. Silence fell from above, on the group, and then the acclamation for Ginny’s started, whit the girl laughing, while her friend just laid herself on the floor, looking above.

Y/n heard some fast step approaching and when she moved her look the preoccupated face of Neville, kneeled near to her, occupied all of her visual field, the boy had his eyes so wide that for a moment the girl feared that they would have fallen out, and his cheeks where so red, was also painting, as he had sprinted to get near to her. “Are you hurt? Your nose is bleeding an afoul lot.”

She laughed softly. “Yes, I mean, no. I’m alright. Noting serious. But someone should fix this bloody mess, don’t wanna go to dinner covered in blood.”

Neville nodded, and fast looked around for one of the green flasks of wiggleweld potions the DA students where required to bring. In no time he jumped to grab one and came back, sitting on the floor whit Y/n.

She drank the liquid, unhappy, “Don’t you go congratulate to Ginny?” asked after a bit.

“Why so?” asked the boy looking at the youngest Weasley “You were the one that forced herself to not attack. I saw how strong your wand was trembling, sure not because you were afraid of Ginny, or hurting.”

She sent the boy a confused look and give him a small push. “Since when are you so sure of your opinion Longbottom?”

Neville laughed softly, getting red on the cheeks. “I… am attentive, when are talking about friends.” He sent the girl a small look, whit the corner of his eyes “Did… did I say something stupid, didn’t I?”

She shook her head. “The contrary I would say,” Answered getting up, and handing the boy her hand to help him getting up as well “pretty accurate.”

Neville accepted the hand, and was pulled on his feet by the girl, which didn’t move to go congratulate on her friend, that when saw her on her foot again sent her a murder look. “She’s gonna be angry,” Luna came near them “she will think that you didn’t take the duel seriously.”

Y/n shook her shoulder, “She’ll get over it.” answered dryly “I was contrary from the beginning, could not have thought that I really was going to fight her. How could I watch myself in the mirror after hurting somebody I love? Could have not sparred honestly with her, nor with..." she stopped, biting her tongue "Doesn't matter, i'm happy enough to not have hurt someone I care about."

Neville stood in silence, his head racing, the words of the girl next to him echoing in his head.

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