The Right by Parks and Fiction Chapter 13 How was the shop
today? She glanced up from the mirror,
taking in a long moment to drink in Neville's half naked form as
he grabbed clothes from the bedroom.
He had a towel wrapped tightly around his waist and secured
with his hand. She wanted to lick the last few
water droplets off his chest and see just how much lower he'd let
her taste, but he hadn't made a move since their encounter on
Sunday night, so she distracted herself with continuing to get
ready. Apparently the Dumbledore's Army
crew was meeting for drinks and they were going.
A muggle family came in. She said in answer to his
question. He glanced up, confused.
Their daughter just got her Hogwarts letter.
She said. Apparently my shop was the 1st
place they went that wasn't completely off its rocker and
made them believe I was a muggle born witch as well.
His expression was guarded. They probably meant it as a
compliment. Oh good, A small taste of
righteous Gryffindor judgement before she was thrust into a
crowd of it. My goal is to merge wizarding
and muggle fashions. She said.
I'm hardly going to take being a welcoming place to muggles and
muggle borns as an insult. Longbottom.
Right, He said. Sorry.
She went back to touching up her make up.
He cleared his throat and left the room with his clothes.
Shortly after the Griffiths left, she closed for lunch and
spent an hour at Saint Mungo's. The charmed headband had worked
perfectly. It shrunk to a comfortable
snugness around Alice's hairline and completely covered both
ears. Like the towel the healers used,
the headband immediately absorbed and dried any water
that came into contact with it. Under the watchful eye of
Margaret and Olivia, she'd completed the entire routine.
Alice hadn't just been calm the entire time.
Any time Pansy combed or brushed her hair, she seemed to relax
further and further into the routine.
Not only had Margaret been impressed enough to offer her to
come back any time they'd asked if she would sell more of the
headbands to scent mungoes for other patients with water
aversions. She wasn't sure why she still
wasn't telling Neville it was his mother.
And yet why a nearly catatonic woman would benefit from having
her hair treated and styled felt like something he wouldn't
understand. She finished her routine, then
selected her clothes. Walking into the lion's den
required nothing less than 5 inches.
Neville was in the living room, dressed and ready, reading
again. She would never have guessed him
to be as academic as Hermione, but she hardly saw him do
anything else at home. Towing over a footstool, she
propped her foot and began fastening the straps of her
heels that caused his eyes to drift up from the buck.
She felt his gaze like a burning trail up her exposed skin of her
leg. Her skirt was long enough to
hide anything, but short enough to entice.
She switched legs to fasten the other heel.
She saw his nostrils flare, and it took everything in her to
hide her smug smirk. Do you still have the dress you
wore to the Three Broomsticks? She pretended not to know what
he meant. I've worn lots of dresses to the
Three Broomsticks. The night you came to seduce me.
She straightened. I was not trying to seduce you.
He smirked. Nor you genuinely have an
interest in doing a Herbology tour of eastern Argentina.
She crossed her arms, expressing an interest.
To travel to Argentina and intending to hire a guide who
knows the magical flora and fauna is hardly seduction,
Longbottom. His smirk only turned more smug.
OK. He picked his book back up.
I burnt it. He glanced up.
What? The dress.
She said. I burnt it.
He looked appalled. Why?
She gave him a condescending look.
And be seen in the same thing twice.
How gauche. He frowned.
How wasteful, he said. You could have at least.
Always so quick to think the worst of her.
When I came home that night, Ivan told me to wear it for
Pedro when he arrived, because he knew his friend would like
the look of me in it. His face twisted.
She just did. The folds of her current dress
didn't exactly feel like something I wanted to keep after
that. His expression pained.
Before he could do something stupid like apologize, she gave
him a bright smile. Ready.
He rose and held out his arm to apparate together.
The apparition point was in a dark alley.
Neville spun her so her back was pressed against the brick wall
and leaned over her. Her heart started pounding.
As much as she didn't want to mess up her hair or make up, he
hadn't kissed her since the wedding.
She wanted to know how much of it she'd imagined, and how much
was real. Shame about the dress.
He said, voice low. I really liked it on you.
The way his presence twisted her up was the only excuse for what
came out of her mouth next. I designed it for you.
He smiled down at her. Saw you were trying to seduce
me. Shame it didn't work.
His smile spread. No, I wouldn't say that.
She stood at him, trying to figure out what he meant.
Had he actually wanted her that night?
If it hadn't been for all the disgraced families trying to
gain advantage by going after DA members, would she have been
successful? He pushed himself back from her
and held out his arm. Come on.
Still a bundle of want and need and confusion, she followed him
into the bar, pretending to be unaffected.
The DA was towards the back. Alicia was already there, facing
away from the entrance and deep in conversation with George and
Angelina. She appeared to be ranting about
something. As they got closer, both George
and Angelina saw the two of them, but aside from trading the
smirk, neither acknowledged them.
When they were close enough to hear Alicia, it was clear why.
So then the posh bastards take her side against me.
She said. Muggleborn's choosing Pansy
fucking Parkinson over me. She leaned over the booth with a
bright smirk. That's Pansy fucking Longbottom.
Alicia practically jumped out of her seat.
Angelina and George burst out laughing.
Pansy glanced over her shoulder and made a show of winking at
Neville. Officially even.
He was fighting his own smirk, but shot her a warning look
across the table. George and Angelina both shook
with suppressed laughter. Alicia glared at both of them.
You could have warned me, She said through gritted teeth.
Where's the fawn in that? Pansy slid into the seat next to
Alicia right as Liam came over with drinks.
She intercepted Alicia's, took a sip and immediately made a face.
Oh, you can have that. She passed it back to her and
turned to Liam. I'll take my usual.
Neville placed his order along with the replacement drink for
Alicia and then gave his half embarrassed, half curious friend
a smile. Here, Alicia, he said now's
work. Angelina pressed her hand to her
mouth to hide her laughter. Moments later, she winced as if
someone kicked her underneath the table.
One of our families I was assigned to this year is a bit
much, that's all. She glared at Pansy.
I can't believe you were starting to teach your exes.
Neville turned to her with what she could only assume was a
disapproving professor expression.
Sweet Cersei, what would she have to do to get him to use
that on her in the bedroom? I did not teach her any hexes,
she said. I informed her that using hexes
could get her kicked out of school.
Alicia scoffed. So the fact that she spent the
rest of the day asking me for the Jelly legs, jinx and leg
locking curse was a coincidence? She gave her a small smile.
The fact that she didn't know the incantations is proof that I
didn't teach her anything, she said.
I only mentioned those as examples of hexes to use that
don't cause lasting harm. Elysia snorted.
Ow, Slytherin. She arched an eyebrow.
Because you had never cast magic you weren't allowed to use at
school. Nothing but proud smirks met her
comment. Gryffindor hypocrisy.
Liam returned with their drinks as another crop of DA members
arrived. Neville scooted over until his
thigh was pressed against hers and wrapped an arm around her
shoulders. She'd accidentally been through
enough of these mini reunions with Hermione to know exactly
how much an unwanted outsider she was with this crew, but
Neville making such a physical, public claim on her centred her
just a little bit. Even if it was pretend, knowing
at least one person actually wanted her to be there took her
off the defence just enough that it was easier to pretend to be
pleasant. When Liam returned with their
drinks and took orders from the new arrivals, never leaned down
to whisper in her ear. His head was turned so no one
could see his lips moving, creating their own small moment
of intimacy. Be nice and don't have more than
one drink. The sensuous promise in his
voice sent a shiver down her spine.
She glanced up through her lashes.
Oh, what? With a small smirk, he leaned
back down again. You shouldn't be asking what
happens if you don't, you should be asking what happens if you
do. He pressed a kiss to the skin
right by her ear and her toes curled inside her shoes.
Being told what to do immediately made her want to do
the exact opposite, but Neville's comment about earning
a reward had been running through her mind since Sunday.
Her internal debate was cut off by the arrival of Draco and
Hermione. Her friend immediately squealed
and made Neville and Pansy switch seats so she could sit
next to her. I want to hear all about the
shop. How are the first few days gone?
They got more than one side eye, as they usually did whenever
someone in this crowd was reminded that Hermione was
actually friends with her, but she ignored them.
A muggle family came in today. She gasped and her face
immediately lit up. Did they really?
What did they think? Across the table, she heard
Alicia snort. She grinned.
Apparently it was the first place they went that wasn't
completely off its rocker. Hermione giggled.
Oh gods, that's something my dad would have said, but they found
it delightful and made them assume I was a muggle born witch
as well. She beamed.
See, I told you you could do it. Something in her softened at
Hermione's bright excitement, an immediate trust that Pansy saw
those words as a compliment, not an insult.
What is it with Muggles and pointed hats and flying on
broomsticks? A sheepish smirk came to her
face. Oh yeah, she said.
What did they say? Well, she thought the pointed
hat was a little on the nose and seemed alarmed by the
broomstick, but the two in conjunction really seemed to
throw her. She sniggered a little bit.
The stereotypical view Muggles have of witches is that they
wear pointed hats and fly on broomsticks.
She eyed her friend. We do wear pointed hats and fly
on broomsticks, right? Hermione rubbed her forehead.
It's like a connotation thing, I guess.
They're also usually green and have warts, Denis Creevy added.
Pansy stared at him. Why?
It's from a children's fantasy novel written in the early
1900s. Hermione said there was a wicked
witch who was green and had warts and flew on a broomstick
and wore a pointed hat. Don't forget flying monkeys,
Denis said. Flying monkeys?
Pansy repeated. Was this more Mughal mythology
she'd never heard of before? That sounded like something
Looney Lovegood would make up. It was a fantasy tale made-up
for children. A flash of annoyance crossed
Hermione's face. It was also a statement for
American politics at the time, but that part isn't important.
It just became a cultural thing. Like if someone is being
particularly nasty, someone will ask them where's their
broomstick? It's like a way to say there
being a wicked witch. She started for several
heartbeats. What?
Hermione let out a huff. We'll watch the movie together.
I thought you said it was a book?
Yes, she said it was turned into a movie.
I didn't realise Muggles cinema was that advanced.
They don't literally turn the buck into a movie, they build
sets and have actors act out the book and film it to show it to
audiences. Sounded like an awful lot of
extra work when the book was already available, but she lets
that bit go for now. So they thought I was saying
their daughter was going to end up a dark witch?
No, that's just one example and the only time they were said to
be green. Hermione said.
Muggle depictions of witches dating back to the Middle Ages
show them wearing pointed hats and flying on broomsticks.
The more common descriptions are frizzy hair, brewing things, and
cauldrons. Her gaze started up to her
friend's bushy mane. She leaned forward.
Hermione, we don't all have frizzy hair.
You can brush yours once in a while and still fit in.
Oh, piss off, Parkinson. She snapped.
Longbottom. Neville corrected.
Pansy giggled as Hermione rolled her eyes.
So you being scared of brooms is just a you thing, not a
muggleborn thing, Yes. She said with a forlorn sigh.
Plenty of muggleborns played professional Quidditch.
Ginny Weasley said, her voice loud enough to carry across the
table. Pansy, are you saying they
shouldn't? The conversation around the
table faded as everyone turned towards them.
Wieselt's eyes were sharp, preparing for a fight.
Pansy smiled, ready to give her 10.
Of course not, she said. I'm just saying that with
Quidditch being such a noble and dignified pastime.
Neville pinched her side right as Hermione started to speak
over her. That's not what she was saying.
She rounded on Pansy. And don't egger on, if only to
find out whatever Neville had in mind for the evening.
She took a drink of her wine instead of responding.
Pansy was asking what muggles think of flying after a family
came into her shop today. Hermione said.
Pansy propped her chin on her hand and smiled.
Where's your broomstick today, Weasley?
Her eyes narrowed further. Neville pinched aside again,
hitting a particularly ticklish spot that made her squirm and
giggle. That's two.
He murmured. How many do I get?
She murmured back. Two.
She smirked and sipped her wine before turning back to Hermione.
Anyway, aside from that, they were very lovely.
Alicia snorted again. I spent a little extra time
answering some questions that their Ministry representative
refused to answer. Alicia banged her palm down on
the table. I answered every question I'm
allowed to. Her eyes arched.
If you aren't allowed to tell them the main traits of each
house, they're not supposed to influence them in any direction.
Hermione said. Fine then.
At least give them a print out with the basic values of each
house. She said.
They deserve to go into it knowing something more than just
the names all the children raised in magical homes do.
A thoughtful look crossed Hermione's face and she nodded
slowly. You immediately swayed them
towards Slytherin. Alicia said.
Pansy scoffed. I can't help where they
immediately identified. She rolled her eyes.
She arched A brow. Like you didn't meet them and
then instantly think that family screamed Slytherin shook a large
swallow of her drink in lieu of answering.
So you think she's going to be her Slytherin?
Hermione asked. If she isn't, I'd lose any
semblance of trust that there's any justice in the world, and
deeply pity the housemates of wherever she's mistakenly
placed. Penelope would do well in
Ravenclaw, but it would be no match for her ambition.
Well, that's interesting. Hermione said.
She grinned at Pansy. I'm glad she met you.
She beamed at her friend. Me too.
The conversation moved away from Muggleborn's and Pansy's shop.
She sat back and listened instead of participating in the
most of it. They reshuffled a number of
times as Moore trickled in, but Neville's arm never left her
shoulders. His hand traced idle designs on
her shoulder upper arm, driving her to distraction.
So, how's the shop? She glanced up, not realizing
she'd ended up next to George Weasley on her latest
arrangement. It hasn't been a full week yet,
but so far it seems to be going well.
He glanced across the way at Alicia, smirking ever so
slightly. Sounds like you made a good
impression on the muggles today. She took a small sip from her
ever dwindling wine. That's the goal.
He eyed her like he wasn't quite sure how to figure her out.
Merlin, was everyone just waiting for her to start
screaming death to muggles every time she turned around?
Thank you for calling the auras last week, she said.
That seemed to surprise him even more.
Yeah, he said it shouldn't have happened.
I'm sorry, Pansy. She shrugged.
Any word yet? Not that I've heard, she said,
Not exactly holding my breath. He eyed her for a few moments,
then a gleam, and heard his eyes.
Want me to donate a few items to your security?
She laughed once. The goal is to limit damage to
the store. He smirked.
Always fun to get home worse than they got you.
Hermione helped with a few new wards.
She said. I have a feeling that will be
the case regardless. He chuckled.
She scares me more than Jinny. Neither, which was to be
underestimated. She wondered for a while if
Jinny had been the one to curse her with antlers, but she'd
definitely have taken credit for it by now.
What you're doing though, it's important.
George said. For more than just the posh
slurring types too. The fact that George Weasley
could sit there and say that to her meant maybe the others could
start to see it too. Thanks.
Some of the older shopkeepers get a bit territorial when new
places come in, he said. Especially if it's a new
concept. Opening a joke shop as the war
was getting worse had been a controversial move.
The place had been ransacked more than once after the
Weasleys had gone into hiding, but somehow George had brought
it back better than ever, even while mourning his brother.
All that to say, I'm glad to have you there.
He said. Thank you, Pansy.
Another drink. She glanced up at Liam.
No, thank you. Next to her, Neville squeezed
her shoulder and shot her a look of smug satisfaction before he
turned back to his conversation with Looney Lovegood and her
husband. She thought that would be an
indication that she was ready to leave.
Instead, they sat there for another hour and a half.
She was ready to crawl out of her skin and was about to order
an entire bottle of wine and go through every sassy come back
and snide remark she'd withheld the entire night when Neville
finally announced they were leaving.
There was a chorus of complaints, but he reminded them
all that he had a class of first years to teach in the morning
and extracted them from the booth.
You were quiet tonight. He said on the walk to the
alley. My version of being nice.
He smirked. And you only had one glass of
wine. She sighed.
And why was that, may I ask? Slipping into the alley, he
pushed her up against the brick wall.
He leaned over her, overwhelming her senses.
Because I wanted you completely sober.
What I want to do to you. Her breath caught.
His eyes darted over her face, drinking her in.
Can I kiss you, Neville Longbottom, when I say that you
have my full permission to do whatever the fuck you want to me
tonight? He cut her off with his lips.
This was not the sweet kiss from the wedding.
This was acclaiming, A fierce, passionate devouring that left
her desperate and wanting more. More of Neville, more of his
lips and tongue and fingers. He broke the kiss just long
enough for his lips to move across her jaw, down her neck.
Using the brick wall as support, she wrapped her leg around his
waist, pulling him closer and ground her lips against his,
feeling every hard inch of him. His low groan was her reward and
the next she knew they were spinning, operating back into
his bedroom, seeming to regain some of his control, though if
the lust in his eyes was any indication, he was barely
holding onto it. He stepped back from her strip
and get on the bed. Magic could have had her clothes
off in seconds, but if this was going to be her only chance to
torment Longbottom back, she was going to take her time.
She slowly slid her robes off 1 arm at a time.
Reaching behind for the zipper of her dress, she pulled it down
and let her dress fall and puddle on the ground at her
feet. His gaze darkened as he drank
her in, standing there only in her shoes, thigh highs and
lingerie. Placing a foot on the bed, Shin
clasped the shoe and rolled down her stocking.
Inch by inch she repeated the Tees on the other leg until she
was left in her bra and panties. Those came off as well.
Bed. Neville growled, pulling back
the covers with a flick of his wand.
She positioned herself in the centre, propped up on her
elbows, and watched as he shrugged off his robes.
The cufflinks she'd picked out were tossed carelessly to the
floor before he rolled the sleeves of his shirt to his
elbows. He'd worn the charcoal trousers
and matching waistcoat with a royal blue shirt.
Seeing him completely dressed, save for those deliciously
exposed forearms made her melt into the bed.
Why am I naked and you aren't? He crawled up on the bed,
covering her body with his own. So I don't forget and take this
too far. Before she could gloat about
wrecking his self-control, he clasped both of her hands in
his, pushed them above her head. Leaning down, his lips found
hers in another harsh, claiming kiss, as if he was half as
desperate for her as she was for him.
Even fully restrained either by his hands pinning her hands to
the bed above her head or his body flattening against hers,
she relished the power she had over him, the tiny cracks in his
control that revealed exactly how much he wanted her.
His hands stayed locked around hers, not touching or drifting
to anything she was freely offering.
Arching her back, she tried to force more contact, but he had
her completely pinned. He kissed her until she was
dizzy and delirious with need before sitting back on his
knees. With a flourish of his wand, red
ribbon burst from the tip. It split into two, each piece
wrapping around one of her wrists and then around the bed
posts, tying her down. Stepping back from the bed, he
repeated it on either foot. The strain was soft against her
skin, but none of the ribbons. So much has budged when she
tried to move. She was now completely naked,
bound spread eagle to Neville Longbottom's bed.
She'd never been so turned on in her life.
Neville's hungry gaze drifted slowly over her body before his
eyes met hers with a satisfying smirk.
Since you enjoy ribbon so much. Not when it's red.
His smirk spread. He waved his wand again, this
time thinner gold ribbon burst out, laying over the red ribbons
already binding her. If a vulnerable position and
smugness on his face wasn't making her melt, she would have
rolled her eyes. I take it I should add
humiliation to your list of kinks?
Not really, he said. Might have made school more fun
for me if it was though. A startled laugh burst from her.
He crawled back over her, covering her body with his but
not touching. None of the ribbons gave so much
of an inch as she tried to move towards him.
His lips slid across her neck, but it only felt fair
considering its Gryffindor night.
She bit back her moan as his teeth scraped her earlobe.
Does that mean you'll do this again tomorrow with green and
silver? Her question ended on more of a
gasp as he gave her the smallest bite on her neck.
Only if you're very good. With his hand skimming the skin
of her rib cage just beneath her breasts, she would have promised
him almost anything in that moment.
You remember what you say when you want this to stop.
He murmured into her skin. Mercy, good girl.
His hand slid higher, cupping her breast with his hand.
He let out a low groan, then pulled back until his fingers
were tracing the lightest of circles across her skin.
They grazed over her nipple, and she let out a small cry as he
pinched. It wasn't enough to hurt, but
enough to send a sharp jolt straight to her clit.
The rate at which he switched from gentle to rough left her
appreciating every single touch. He kissed a trail down her neck
to her other breast and started to do things with his tongue
that had her writhing beneath him.
At least as much as ribbons would allow.
Being forced to just lie here, helpless to do anything but take
what he gave her, was the sweetest form of torture.
When he finally lifted his head, she almost came at the smug look
of pure arrogance. Instead of doing anything with
the burning ache between her legs, he kissed his way to her
other breast and began his delicious torment of that one
while his fingers worked her other.
Fuck, none of her previous partners ever spent enough time
on her breasts, a few quick squeezes for their own
satisfaction, and then on to getting her off as quickly as
possible in order to have the favour repaid.
Because she never, ever gave a man an orgasm until she'd had
one first. Not since Draco, anyway.
But she didn't count that disastrous part of her life.
But Neville. Neville wasn't just taking his
time, he was worshipping her breasts in a way that made her
feel that she could come from that alone.
The scratch of his teeth had her back bowing, and then he did
something with his tongue that made her see stars.
Merlin, Neville. She gasped.
His hand pinched her other nipple and she yanked at her
ribbons. You're not going anywhere,
Princess. He murmured into her skin.
Not until I'm done with you. She was practically throbbing
with need. Please.
He raised his head, smug arrogance back.
Please stop, or more, more, she gasped.
Please more. Good girl.
She nearly sobbed as he worked his way around her body, kissing
and touching and building her higher and higher.
When he had those delicious shoulders between her thighs,
she moaned even with the ribbons tying her down.
He put a firm hand on either of her thighs as he leaned forward
and pressed his tongue against her in one slow lick.
If she'd been able to move more than half an inch, she would
have launched herself off the bed.
Fuck, not tonight. Neville said as he started to
use his tongue on her clit the exact way he had on her nipple.
He freed one of her thighs and reached up to roll her nipple
between his thumb and forefinger.
Her orgasm was building, coming faster and harder than she'd
ever experienced in her entire life.
Right as she felt the beginnings of it erupting through her,
Neville pulled away. She almost screamed as it faded
before it even started. Neville smirked up past Head.
She gasped. She yelped as he pinched her
nipple hard enough to bring tears to her eyes.
I'm sorry. She parted.
Just don't, don't stop. With another smirk, he went back
to tormenting her with his mouth.
This time it was rough and hard and she felt her orgasm
barrelling towards her in seconds.
Forcing herself to remain perfectly still, she tried not
to let her body betray her so he didn't have a chance to stop
another one. Just as she felt the swift rush
of it beginning to hit her, he stopped.
She let out a cry of frustration as his lips ghosted over the
skin of her inner thighs. Neville, please.
His hand moved back to her clit this time, soft and slow and
almost sweet, like he was savouring every kiss.
It was as if he wanted to find every way he could make her
come, or without actually letting her do so.
This time, when he pulled back right before she could come, she
let out a SOB. Please, she said.
Please don't stop. She could feel his smile against
her inner thigh. Oh, Princess, he said.
I could do this all night. As he started kissing her again,
she realised he would keep leading her to the edge over and
over again without ever actually getting her off.
Again and again he tormented her until she lost count of how many
orgasms he'd denied her. Despite the ribbons, he was back
to holding her down with both hands as he feasted on her, as
she fought and writhed against him, desperate for anything to
finally take her over. She sobbed, cheeks wet with
tears as he denied her yet another one.
Please, please. He kissed a trail up her inner
thigh. Please what?
Please make me come. She begged.
Please. He raised his head to look at
her, his lips and chin glistening obscenely from how
wet he'd made her. Hard enough, Princess, please.
Therefore, she didn't care how desperate she sounded, how much
he was making her beg. He moved his hand, throwing her
clip with his thumb, and she almost screamed.
It wasn't enough. I can't tell you how much I
fucking love making you beg. Please.
She sobbed. He pulled his thumb away and she
sobbed again. Then his mouth was back there,
tongue teasing her clit like he had the very first time.
She sobbed again, this time in relief.
He kept her so close to the edge that she was right there.
Her orgasm barrelled towards her, only this time he swirled
his tongue and then sucked, barrelling her straight over the
side. Somewhere in the back of her
mind she was aware she was screaming as she came, wave
after wave of the most intense pleasures she'd ever felt in her
life. She couldn't see, couldn't hear,
couldn't feel anything other than Neville's mouth and the
overwhelming pleasure he was forcing on her body.
He didn't stop, continued carrying her through each wave
until she collapsed back, sobbing and shaking and unable
to take any more. She panted as she stared at the
ceiling as Neville finally released her, something between
a laugh and a sob bubbling from her lips.
Fuck, she had never, ever felt anything like that before in her
entire life. The sound of a belt unbuckling
and a zipper had her looking back up.
Neville was kneeling between her spreaded thighs, gripping
himself in his hand. She pulled at the ribbons.
Let me touch you. He leaned over her, pumping
himself with one hand as the other hand landed next to her
head. I don't think you've earned that
privilege yet. She moaned as he kissed her, his
lips and tongue harsh against her mouth.
She could taste herself on his lips, could feel his hard and
rather impressive length against her stomach as he pumped
himself. Then he was gasping as he came,
covering her chest in his warm, sticky cum.
With a stifled groan, he collapsed next to her, panting
for breath. When he managed to catch it, he
looked back at her, still bound and covered in his cum, and
laughed once. Fuck, that's hot.
Grabbing his wand, he finally savored the ribbons binding her
down. He gathered her to his chest
without a care for the mess all over her and rubbed her back in
slow, steady strokes. She'd never been a cuddler, but
she melted into Neville, breathing in his familiar scent
and letting him just hold her. After a few minutes, he vanished
the mess and summoned a glass of water for her.
She sipped it, watching him. The wave of vulnerability hit
her again, not quite as sharp as last time.
I don't remember you being this good at non verbal spells in
school. Her voice was hoarse.
Probably would be for a few days after the abuse he'd put her
throat through. Not that she would trade
anything for another one of those life changing orgasms.
Fuck, how was she ever supposed to find another partner who
compared once this was over between them?
No, there was no chance in hell that Neville fucking Longbottom
had ruined her for other men. Neville spun his wand in his
hands. For the first five years at
school, I was using my dad's old wand.
He said. Ash with dragon heartstring.
She immediately frowned. Ash wands rarely take to new
owners. He nodded once.
Gran's theory was that if I could be just like my dad, the
wand would accept me. She stared at him for several
heartbeats. Well, not as bad as mine, which
is saying very little, because that's quite a low standard.
Your family is a little bit fucked up.
Neville Longbottom. He excelled.
A sharp hoof That could have been either agreement or
disagreement, perhaps both. What happened to my parents, It
was pretty traumatic for all my relatives, he said.
None of them believed that Voldemort was truly gone, all
that Balotrix would stay locked up and they were terrified that
I would be targeted. Losing both his parents at such
a young age was deeply traumatic for a 15 month old as well.
That's why they were so worried that I was a squib, he said.
If my parents, who were both incredibly powerful lawyers who
defied Voldemort 3 times could be, you know, then I needed to
be better and stronger than them both.
That was ridiculous. Is that how they defended
themselves after fourth year? When Harry saw Voldemort come
back, Uncle Algae apologised. He said for all of it.
He gave me my mimbulous mimbletonia and told me that the
war was coming and I needed to be ready, but that I didn't need
to lose myself along the way and that he was proud of me.
Seemed about 7 years too late, but Neville seemed moved so she
decided not to argue. She glanced over at Mimby
sitting on the night stand. If they were going to do this
again, she probably needed to be moved to another room anyway.
Dad's wand got snapped during the battle at the Department of
Mysteries. He said I had to get a new one.
I assumed it would be a chestnut since those are preferred by
herbologists, but this one chores me instead.
Alter, right? He nodded.
Unicorn hair core. While order itself was an
unyielding wood, they typically chose helpful, considerate, and
likeable owners. Combining that with the
consistency and faithfulness of a Unicorn hair, and it wasn't
hard to see why this one chose Neville.
I don't think I've felt anything like I did when I first held it,
he said. It took me most of six year to
relearn a lot, but stuff came easier than it had before
because he'd actually had a wand that accepted him.
They're pretty wicked at non verbal spells.
He said. Really came in handy. 7th year
against the Carols. He was lucky he hadn't got
himself killed. He turned and grinned at her.
And now it's fun to keep you on your toes if you don't know what
I'm doing. A small smirk tugged at her
lips. As long as it's you, I really
don't seem to mind. The words fell from her lips
without actually thinking about the weight of them.
Neville simply grinned. Good, because I have a lot of
ideas when it comes to you, Princess.
She tucked her head into his shoulder.
His arms tightened around her waist and he kissed her
forehead. I'm proud of you, Pansy.
The praise wrapped around her like a warm, beloved blanket.
The shop, your goals, all of it. He said.
I just, I thought you should gnaw.
She pressed her face into his shirt, inhaling the warm,
comforting smells of wet earth and soap and the spicy hint of
fire, whiskey, comfort and spice.
Completely, Neville, thank you.