What Happens in the Changing Room...

little_bird

Story Summary:
Characters in the HP-verse need to blow off a little steam... I had originally intended this to be a one-shot, but well, plans change. :)

Chapter 03 - Viola venia

Posted:
03/10/2011
Hits:
1,255


Neville perched on a tall stool at one end of the bar in the Leaky Cauldron, nursing a pint of bitter, waiting for Hannah. She stood at the opposite end, putting the finishing touches on next week's schedule. She twirled a lock of her straight, blonde hair around a finger, while she muttered to herself. Her nose scrunched in distaste over something, and she hastily scratched out something she'd just written. This was a routine developed over the past six months. Several nights a week, he dashed home from his job at St. Mungo's greenhouses, scrubbed away the sweat, potting soil, and dragon dung fertilizer, dressed in clothes his grandmother insisted on pressing, then met Hannah. More of then than not, they retreated to her small flat over the public room with their meals on a tray. They talked, explored London, or stayed in her flat doing quite a bit more than talking. Last night had been such a night when they let their hands and mouths say what neither of them was quite ready to put into words.

However, she wanted more. It was becoming glaringly obvious.

Neville forced himself to look away from Hannah glanced down at his hands picking at the potting soil that he couldn't quite get out of his cuticles. His grandmother badgered him incessantly to let her manicure his hands before he met Hannah, privately he felt only truly swotty men got manicures. He liked Hannah a great deal. Especially since his grandmother had ceased her efforts to push them together.

'I'm done,' Hannah said with a tired sigh. 'Sorry. I didn't think it was going to take that long. Tamsin's quit without so much as a Bob's-your-uncle and it was a scramble to cover her shifts next week.'

'I can go home.'

'Don't you dare!' Hannah said fiercely. 'I've been looking forward to this all day.' She tugged at Neville's hand until he slid off the stool and followed her up the dark stairs. Hannah's flat was an oasis of light and color in the otherwise dingy confines of the Leaky Cauldron. The only thing it was missing was plants and flowers. He hoped to remedy that soon. 'Just let me have a quick wash,' she told him. 'I had to clean the rooms she was assigned, and doing it with magic doesn't mean dust doesn't fly about everywhere.' She gently pushed him toward the small sofa and disappeared into the bedroom.

Neville resolutely turned away from the partially-opened bedroom door and jammed his hands into his pockets. He didn't want her to accuse him of being some sort of pervert. Although, he desperately wanted to peer around the edge of that door. But no. He'd been down that road in the months after the war when girls threw themselves at him. They didn't want to know about him or how he had converted the large bay windows of his bedroom into miniature greenhouses and grew all sorts of plants and herbs there. They just wanted the hero. And he'd been content with that, then. Satisfied with the temporal nature of the encounters where he needn't think about what might happen in five minutes. He could just feel. Until the day came when he slipped from the bed of a woman who'd been in a seventh year his first year. She'd purred with delight when she had seemingly bumped into him in Diagon Alley, exclaiming how she barely recognized him, how he'd grown into such a handsome, strapping young man. The next morning, as he quietly dressed in the purple gloaming before dawn, he couldn't remember her name.

By no means had Neville been indiscriminate or indiscreet. He'd only slept with girls he knew until that last one. Girls he saw casually with little or no commitment beyond the night. In fact, he could still count the number of girls he'd been with on both hands. Hannah was different. She was the type of girl that needed commitment. That wasn't the problem. Neville was willing to give her that. He just wasn't quite sure if she wanted commitment from him. He was certain his reputation preceded him. His grandmother had several choice terms for men who flitted from one girl to the next. Not the he had ever publicly given her a reason to call him any of them, but still...

'Knut for your thoughts?'

Neville turned halfway. Hannah stood just outside her bedroom door, dressed in a clean skirt and shirt. She favored skirts, he had noticed, when the weather was warm. 'They're not worth that much,' he said with a deprecating smile, trying to avoid the line of her shin exposed by the swinging hem of the skirt.

'I don't know about you, but I'm starved,' Hannah commented, moving toward the small, round table set near a window, already laden with their dinner.

Neville took the chair opposite hers and laid the serviette over his lap. 'My birthday's next week,' he began. 'And my grandmother and Great-Uncle Algie and Great-Auntie Enid are having a special dinner for it, and Gran thought you might want to come...'

'That sounds like it would be lovely.'

Neville inhaled a pea. He began to simultaneously cough and question Hannah's sanity. Spending the evening with his grandmother and her brother and sister-in-law was hardly his idea of a lovely time. 'Really?' he croaked, eyes streaming.

'Yes.'

'Well, that settles it,' Neville declared.

'What does?'

'You're mad.'

'Excuse me?'

Neville pointed his fork at Hannah. 'No twenty year-old woman in her right mind thinks spending an evening with her... friend's... elderly relations is a lovely time.'

'It is if I get to spend it with you.'

Neville felt his stomach drop. Oh blimey... You're in for it now, chum...

Dinner eaten, and dishes magicked back into the kitchen, Neville found himself sprawled over the sofa, Hannah straddling him, her skirt hiked halfway up her thighs. Her hands danced over the buttons over his shirt, flicking them through the buttonholes, one by one, until she could spread his shirt apart and glide her hands over the bared skin. Neville grasped the hem of her shirt in both hands, ready to draw it over her head, but he paused. Hannah could feel his hesitation. She sat up looking down at him. 'What is it?'

Neville swallowed heavily. Not until I know how she feels... He met Hannah's puzzled gaze and the words stuck in his throat. 'I ought to go home,' he mumbled, pulling the edges of his shirt together and swiftly buttoning it. 'Early start tomorrow...'

xxxxxx

Hannah burst into the flat Ginny shared with Harry. 'What the bloody hell am I doing wrong?'

Hermione looked up from the toenails she was painstakingly varnishing. 'Offhand, I'd say you might want to keep your arms in while you Floo, but other than that...'

'That's not what I mean...' Hannah groaned. 'It's Neville...'

Ginny handed Hannah a cold butterbeer. 'What's wrong with Neville?'

'Six months... Six months of hand holding, snogging... And absolutely nothing.' Hannah drooped dejectedly. 'And I've discovered cold showers only go so far, and I'm all for sisters doing it for themselves, but it's just not the same...'

'What do you want to happen?' Hermione asked blankly. Hannah shot her a look of disbelief. 'Oh... Ohhhhhh. You and Neville haven't...' Hermione made a vague gesture with her hand.

'No,' Hannah snuffled. 'I've all but bloody spelled it out for him. It's like he can't read the signals.'

Luna's head came up and she stared at Hannah. 'Really? Neville...?' she blurted in bemusement. She pulled her hair over her shoulder and began to idly plait it loosely. 'It wasn't a problem when we...' She noticed the astonished looks the other three women gave her. 'What?'

'You and Neville...' Ginny trailed off and repeated Hermione's vague gesture.

'Yes.' Luna's blunt honesty sent a wave of nausea through Hannah. 'It was just after the war and he and I were talking one afternoon, and he mentioned how girls kept making advances. Older girls. And we both wondered what the fuss was about. So we...' She shrugged expansively. 'It was only the one time.'

Hannah's fingers burrowed into her hair. 'Let me get this straight... You and Neville shagged, and neither of you breathed a word about it?'

'Nobody ever asked,' Luna remarked airily. 'And it really wasn't anyone's business, aside from mine and Neville's.'

Hannah felt the prickle of frustrated tears rush to her eyes. 'Shite.'

'Maybe you ought to talk to Neville,' Ginny advised.

'Says the married woman,' Hannah grumbled. She couldn't help but ask Luna, 'What was it like?'

Luna gravely considered the question. 'Very nice.'

'I don't think I'll like the answer to this, but why do you think he won't do anything more with me?' Hannah held her breath.

'I think it's because he likes you.'

'That doesn't make sense. If he likes me, then why is he always finding some excuse to run off?' Hannah argued.

Luna nodded vigorously. 'It does. He respects you. Although he was quite respectful with me, but he doesn't like me nearly as much as he does you.'

Ginny nudged Hermione, tilting her head toward the kitchen, widening her eyes. If there was a time for Hannah and Luna to have a bit of privacy, now was it. Hermione's eyes darted from Ginny to Hannah and Luna before mouthing, 'Fine,' at Ginny and carefully minced across the floor to avoid smudging the varnish on her toes. Neither Hannah, nor Luna noticed they were gone.

Luna stretched her feet out in front of her, wriggling her toes. 'How do you feel about Neville?' she asked.

Hannah's mouth worked for a moment. 'I hadn't really... I hadn't thought about it.' In truth, she hadn't needed to think. She could care less about plants, but Neville lit up when he talked about his work, and she loved his enthusiasm. Of all her friends, he hadn't judged her in the slightest for taking over the Leaky Cauldron for Tom. He encouraged her to spruce it up a bit, and thanks to Neville's efforts, fresh flowers dotted the tables and overflowed from window boxes on the Diagon Alley side. Certainly, they had their fair share of compromises and concessions in the months since they began dating, but Hannah had noticed she didn't mind giving up ground to Neville when he was willing to relinquish things for her. It all felt too easy, which contributed to her ambivalence where Neville was concerned. Relationships needed work to make them successful, and with Neville, it hardly qualified as exertion at all. 'I think... No. I like him very much.'

'I think Neville might need to hear that,' Luna told her. 'He's a very soft-hearted and sometimes insecure person under all that dragon dung fertilizer.'

xxxxxx

Harry tapped the bottle of beer with his wand and tossed the cap into the center of the table. 'Thank Merlin the two of you didn't have plans tonight,' he sighed.

'What are they doing at your flat?' Ron asked, a dubious frown falling over his face.

'Dunno,' Harry said, taking a swig of his beer. 'I was informed I could stay, but I'd have to stay in the bedroom. And was told in no uncertain terms whatever chocolate-laden thing Gin had in the kitchen was entirely off limits.' He took a large bite of his sandwich. 'I was also told there would be massive amounts of girl talk and nail varnish.'

'Oh yeah. That was a difficult decision,' Neville hooted. He found himself staring at Harry's left hand. It was still odd to see Harry with a wedding band, even after nearly a year of marriage. It seemed to agree with him, though. And Ron had settled a great deal since he and Hermione finally embarked on their relationship. Neville felt they perhaps had more insight into women, given their respective situations. 'Can I ask you something?'

'Sure.' Ron lifted the edge of the bread on his sandwich and inspected its construction.

'Did your past with girls have an effect on your relationships with Ginny and Hermione?'

'What past?' Harry snorted. 'One date with one girl is hardly something to get into a fuss over.'

Ron ran a hand through his hair. 'A bit,' he allowed. 'Not much. I was more fussed about it than she was. I guess I was more embarrassed by it.' His lip curled a little in distaste. 'Mostly because she wanted to know just what had gone on, and that was something I'd rather not have thought about.' He glanced at Neville. 'Nothing happened,' he added hastily.

Neville chuckled as he recalled Ron's rather excellent imitation of a climbing vine when in Lavender Brown's company during their sixth year. 'Yeah, that would be embarrassing...'

Harry cradled his beer between his hands. 'Why do you ask?'

Neville had to restrain himself from squirming. 'Hannah keeps throwing herself at me...'

Ron choked. 'Hannah? Hannah Abbot? With the cheeks and the hair?'

Neville nodded miserably. 'She's been dropping hints for a few weeks now. They're not subtle, either.'

'And this bothers you?' Harry asked quietly.

'Honestly? No.' Neville slumped back in his chair. 'It's just... I want what you two have.'

Ron's mobile face stilled. 'You think she might be the "one"?'

Neville shrugged stiffly. 'I don't know. But if I'm going to sleep with her - and I do want to, and not just because it's been ages - I want to know she wants me and she's not using me.' He swigged his beer. 'Because I'm sure she's, ah, aware of my reputation...'

Ron regarded Neville soberly for a moment. 'That's sensible. You were a bit of a man-whore for a while there.'

Neville's head snapped up. 'I was not!' he protested.

Harry wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 'You kind of were.'

'It's not as if I was shagging my way through Diagon Alley!'

'I'll grant you that one,' Ron allowed. 'But when you work behind the counter of a shop, people tend to talk to their mates about their personal lives as if you can't hear them. And there was that incident where two girls from George's year found out they'd both had you within weeks of one another and bloody near hexed each other near the Wonder Witch section.'

Neville's shoulders hunched a little. 'That's what I want to avoid...'

Harry's brow furrowed. 'Has she brought up your... past... at all?'

'No. We agreed we'd put the brakes on after we'd been on a few dates.'

Nodding, Harry leaned back in his chair. 'So she doesn't care?'

'I guess...'

'Tell her she's different from the others,' Harry stated. 'See how that goes. And as painful as it might be, honesty's your best bet.'

'He's right,' Ron added.

Neville felt his face pale slightly. There was one way he knew how to tell Hannah how he did feel about her. Unfortunately, if it backfired, it would make him look more than a little foolish.

xxxxxx

Neville checked his hair one last time in the mirror, and straightened his knitted waistcoat once again. He'd seen Hannah open the garden gate from his bedroom window and rushed downstairs to intercept her before his grandmother could. She barely knocked once before Neville yanked the door open. She wore a dress - sleeveless - with a slightly flared skirt and a brightly colored wrap around her shoulders. Her hair was twisted up high on the back of her head. He was disappointed in that. He loved her hair loose around her shoulders. 'Happy birthday,' she said breathlessly.

'Thanks.' Neville stood back and gestured for Hannah to come inside. 'You're a little early.'

'Horrible habit of mine,' Hannah said with a smile. 'I've been trying for ages to be fashionably late to events.'

'Want a tour of the house?'

'Sure.' Hannah slid her hand into the crook of Neville's elbow. 'I love old houses like this.'

Neville glanced around at the rambling old house. It was drafty in the winter, constantly damp, but he had the entire second floor to himself. As a child, it had been lonely, but as an adult, he appreciated the privacy. 'It's all right.' He pointed through the sitting room. 'Kitchen's through there...' As he towed her up the stairs, he gestured left, then right. 'Gran's room is down there, Uncle Algie and Auntie Enid's is that way...'

'Is this the five Knut tour?' Hannah asked, bemused.

'Yes.' Neville stopped awkwardly outside his bedroom door. 'I'd like to show you something...' He opened the door and ushered Hannah inside with a gentle hand in the small of her back. The corner of Hannah's mouth tipped up as she prodded a collection of glowing red Rememberalls. A small wooden box sat on the corner of his desk. Curiously, Hannah lifted the lid and bit her lip as she surveyed the contents. It was filled to overflowing with Drooble's Best Blowing Gum wrappers. It looked as if he'd saved every single one his mother gave him. She carefully replaced the lid and reached back to take Neville's hand in hers. He guided her toward one of the large bay windows he'd converted into greenhouses and opened the small glass door with his free hand.

'Are those violets?' Hannah asked, stepping closer.

'They are.'

'But they're yellow.'

Neville nodded. 'There are breeds of yellow violets.' He reached out and plucked one and held it out to Hannah. 'I managed to crossbreed a yellow violet with a sweet violet. It's got the yellow petals, but the scent of the other.'

Hannah brought it to her nose, inhaling the sweet, light fragrance. 'It's lovely.'

'It's a new breed... Viola venia.' He paused. 'Hannah's violet.' Neville cleared his throat. 'Venia means grace or virtue, and that's what your name means...' He swallowed heavily. His throat felt tight. 'I thought of you when it bloomed. See? It's yellow, with those deep purple streaks around the center... Hufflepuff colors... And it smells like that violet perfume you always wear...' He trailed off embarrassed. 'And you're the only person I've ever wanted to do something like this for...'

Hannah didn't trust herself to speak. She wound her arms around Neville's neck and gently kissed him. Her fingers skimmed so lightly over the planes of Neville's face. She didn't have to think about the words that rose to her lips. 'I love you.'

Neville's arms wrapped around her waist and he lifted her off her feet. He stumbled backward, landing on the window seat left in the bay window. Surrounded by the blaze of golden violets, Hannah's legs wrapped around his waist, and Neville finally allowed his hands to wander where they might. His hand hesitated momentarily on the inside of one knee, exposed by the rucked-up hem of her dress. She firmly laid a hand on his and nudged his hand a little higher on her thigh. Obligingly, he slid his hand higher, until it disappeared beneath her skirt. Her legs tightened around his waist and her fingers dug into the muscles of his back. Neville's back arched and his hips tilted upward to meet Hannah's. Her hips rotated in a slow circle, making Neville bite back a groan. Her hand dropped between them and landed on the buckle of his belt. 'Are you sure?' Neville asked with a gasp.

'I'm sure.'

Hands tangled together to unzip and push just enough clothing out of the way. 'Wait!' Neville hissed, scrabbling for his wand. The handle slipped in his hand as he aimed it at himself, then Hannah, growling a muttered incantation. Both of them protected as well as magic could make them, Neville's mouth formed a perfect O as Hannah shifted, guiding him into her.

'Neville! Neville!' Augusta Longbottom's voice drifted through the open windows from the garden. Hannah shuddered and the edges of a keening moan escaped her lips. Neville reached up to cup her head and guide her mouth to his shoulder, effectively muffling her shout of release. 'For Merlin's sake, Neville, dinner's ready!' Augusta called.

Neville felt his toes curl inside his shoes while his body stiffened. 'Coming, Gran!' he yelped, dimly aware of the irony of his statement. Chest heaving, his forehead dropped to touch Hannah's. 'Ended too soon,' he mumbled.

Hannah leaned back a little. 'We ought to go downstairs,' she said with a regretful sigh.

'When my knees stop shaking...' After a few minutes punctuated by incongruously shy kisses and murmurs, Neville tightened his arms around Hannah's waist and carefully stood up. Hannah's head and shoulders brushed against the clay pots that lined the upper shelves. Neville released her only when her feet were steady on the floor. They quickly put their clothes to rights, then scurried down the stairs into the garden, joining Augusta, Enid, and Algie, already seated at a round table set under the low spreading branches of an oak tree.

'Goodness, dear,' Augusta exclaimed as Hannah settled into the chair between Neville's and Augusta's. 'Were you repotting plants?' She plucked a leaf from Hannah's hair and briskly brushed crumbs of potting soil from her shoulder.

'Neville was just showing me the greenhouses he built,' Hannah said evenly, hoping her cheeks weren't red.

'Well, then.' Augusta lifted her wineglass and held it up. 'Happy birthday, Neville.'

Hannah followed suit. 'Happy birthday,' she murmured.

Neville's hand stole under the table and wrapped around hers. 'Yes, it is...'