tonight I'm gonna rock you
Title: Want You Back
Fandom: Harry Potter
Genres: romance
Characters: Lionel Lovegood, Veronica
When you were a first year, he was in his fifth. You were twelve and he was fifteen. An entire three years difference. It was a slow year for Ravenclaw, not many new Sorted into it, and so of course he noticed when you curled up on a common room sofa and tried to not be homesick. He glanced at you over the top of his Charms book, smiled, and asked, "Firstie?" You nodded quietly and he laughed a little, brushed bangs out of his face and said, "You'll get used to it."
When you were a second year, he was a sixth and one time when you were on your way up the stairs to the Transfiguration room and he was on his way down the stairs to the Arithmancy room, you were so idly staring at him that you forgot that trick step and ended up ankle deep with both feet into it. He passed by and looked at you oddly, asked, "Did you know you're stuck?" and when, mortified, you realize that you are, he laughed and grabbed you around the waist and tugged with all his sixth year strength. You popped right out, stammered, and fled because even though you were only thirteen, your stomach filled with butterflies to remember the way he was so close and breathing in your ear.
When you were fourteen, a third year, he was a seventh and gorgeous. You took his Herbology book when he left it in the common room one night after NEWT studying, and then somehow or another you ended up with quite the collection of his. The crowning piece was his very own real shirt, the one with brown stripes, that you put on your pillow and cuddled with at night. It smelled like him. When he confronted you one day about your collection, all those lovely things you took so eventually he'd have to come talk to you, you told him your name is Veronica and that one day he's going to marry you. He...laughed, which was probably the worst thing ever to happen and so you teared up and he panicked. Told you that you were lovely, really, just too young. But you still felt just miserable and so when you really honestly began to cry he grabbed your little fourteen year old hand and said, "When you're seventeen, okay? When you're seventeen you won't be too young, Veronica, and so long as you still want to, I'll take you out, okay? Promise." Then he teased you a little about your earrings, the radish ones you made over the summer, and then you thought maybe you might really be in love.
When you were in your fourth year, he was gone. Graduated. But you knew he kept his promises and so you doodled his name in the margins of your History of Magic notes and counted the days until you were seventeen.
When you were a fifth year and sixteen, it all seemed so close. He wasn't around, really, but every now and again he'd stop in at the school and talk to Dumbledore about what he'd been working on, and so you made sure to pass him somehow on the grounds wearing that one shirt that made you look a little curvier than you are, and you waved at him. He always gave you that silly half smile back, and you thought he was maybe still a little afraid you'd burst into tears around him. And every time, you promised yourself that when you were seventeen, you'd make him want you back.
And then all of a sudden you were seventeen and The Quibbler hit wizarding newsstands everywhere, but he hadn't been back at Hogwarts in six months and for six months you'd been seventeen and you HATED him for breaking his promise and you HATED yourself for thinking he really wouldn't. You dated that vaguely nice boy from your Arithmancy class, but the day Lionel Lovegood (editor in chief) showed up on campus, you broke up with Arithmancy-boy and marched up to Lionel by the Great Lake and said, "You promised." He looked up at you, laughed, and said that yeah, he did, and would you maybe like to go to Hogsmede with him? He made impeccable eye contact, which was half flattering and half disappointing, because really just once you'd like him to stare at your chest and for Heaven's sake want you back.
(As it turns out, the date went wonderfully and he was so terrifically charming like you'd known since your first year, and for some reason he thought the same about you and kicked himself for not realizing it earlier. He wanted you back for the first time that night, because after five years of foreplay, you were really sick and tired of waiting around.)
Fandom: Harry Potter
Genres: romance
Characters: Lionel Lovegood, Veronica
When you were a first year, he was in his fifth. You were twelve and he was fifteen. An entire three years difference. It was a slow year for Ravenclaw, not many new Sorted into it, and so of course he noticed when you curled up on a common room sofa and tried to not be homesick. He glanced at you over the top of his Charms book, smiled, and asked, "Firstie?" You nodded quietly and he laughed a little, brushed bangs out of his face and said, "You'll get used to it."
When you were a second year, he was a sixth and one time when you were on your way up the stairs to the Transfiguration room and he was on his way down the stairs to the Arithmancy room, you were so idly staring at him that you forgot that trick step and ended up ankle deep with both feet into it. He passed by and looked at you oddly, asked, "Did you know you're stuck?" and when, mortified, you realize that you are, he laughed and grabbed you around the waist and tugged with all his sixth year strength. You popped right out, stammered, and fled because even though you were only thirteen, your stomach filled with butterflies to remember the way he was so close and breathing in your ear.
When you were fourteen, a third year, he was a seventh and gorgeous. You took his Herbology book when he left it in the common room one night after NEWT studying, and then somehow or another you ended up with quite the collection of his. The crowning piece was his very own real shirt, the one with brown stripes, that you put on your pillow and cuddled with at night. It smelled like him. When he confronted you one day about your collection, all those lovely things you took so eventually he'd have to come talk to you, you told him your name is Veronica and that one day he's going to marry you. He...laughed, which was probably the worst thing ever to happen and so you teared up and he panicked. Told you that you were lovely, really, just too young. But you still felt just miserable and so when you really honestly began to cry he grabbed your little fourteen year old hand and said, "When you're seventeen, okay? When you're seventeen you won't be too young, Veronica, and so long as you still want to, I'll take you out, okay? Promise." Then he teased you a little about your earrings, the radish ones you made over the summer, and then you thought maybe you might really be in love.
When you were in your fourth year, he was gone. Graduated. But you knew he kept his promises and so you doodled his name in the margins of your History of Magic notes and counted the days until you were seventeen.
When you were a fifth year and sixteen, it all seemed so close. He wasn't around, really, but every now and again he'd stop in at the school and talk to Dumbledore about what he'd been working on, and so you made sure to pass him somehow on the grounds wearing that one shirt that made you look a little curvier than you are, and you waved at him. He always gave you that silly half smile back, and you thought he was maybe still a little afraid you'd burst into tears around him. And every time, you promised yourself that when you were seventeen, you'd make him want you back.
And then all of a sudden you were seventeen and The Quibbler hit wizarding newsstands everywhere, but he hadn't been back at Hogwarts in six months and for six months you'd been seventeen and you HATED him for breaking his promise and you HATED yourself for thinking he really wouldn't. You dated that vaguely nice boy from your Arithmancy class, but the day Lionel Lovegood (editor in chief) showed up on campus, you broke up with Arithmancy-boy and marched up to Lionel by the Great Lake and said, "You promised." He looked up at you, laughed, and said that yeah, he did, and would you maybe like to go to Hogsmede with him? He made impeccable eye contact, which was half flattering and half disappointing, because really just once you'd like him to stare at your chest and for Heaven's sake want you back.
(As it turns out, the date went wonderfully and he was so terrifically charming like you'd known since your first year, and for some reason he thought the same about you and kicked himself for not realizing it earlier. He wanted you back for the first time that night, because after five years of foreplay, you were really sick and tired of waiting around.)