Neville's Day
Title: Neville's Day
Fandoms: Harry Potter
Pairings: None
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, just love 'em
Warnings: None
Summary: Written for the first round of the Harry Potter Last Author Standing Competition over at harrypotter_las.
“Oh my god, Neville what are you wearing?!”
Neville froze at the bottom of the stairs to the boy’s dorm, pinned to the spot by the sudden attention of the entire common room.
There was a sigh from one of the squishy chairs by the unlit fireplace.
“Ron, you have all the tact of a charging bull,” said Hermione, frowning. She turned to Neville, a smile on her face.
“You look lovely, Neville.”
“Lovely?! Are you blind, Hermione? He looks like his grandmother dressed him!”
“Ron. Shut up.”
“Where are you going, Neville?” asked Harry from his seat opposite Ron.
“I... I was just going out for a walk in the grounds."
“Then why are you wearing a brand new shirt?” challenged Ron.
“How do you know it’s new?” Hermione retorted.
Ron blushed furiously and muttered something unintelligible as he returned to his chess match with Harry.
“Date?” asked Hermione gently.
Neville blushed a deep red which, combined with his burnt orange shirt, made him look like a gaudy painting of a sunset.
“Well... Hannah Abbot may have mentioned something about being out by the lake this afternoon but...”
“HA!”
All eyes turned to Ron.
“Er, I was... I just... I captured Harry’s Queen, okay?!”
Hermione glared at him before getting up from her chair and walking over to Neville. She put her hands on his arms and squeezed gently.
“You look very handsome, Neville. I’m sure Hannah will be impressed and anyway, what you look like doesn’t matter;” she said dismissively, “it’s the person inside that counts.”
Lavender and Parvati giggled derisively from the floor where their Divination homework was spread out.
“Yeah, as long as the person inside is a millionaire,” declared Ron, his gaze fixed on the chequered board before him.
The giggling became louder. Neville bit his lip.
“Does it really look that bad?” he asked tentatively.
“No!” exclaimed Hermione just as everyone else chorused ‘Yes!’
Hermione looked as though she wanted to start throwing people out the window. Harry, seeming to sense the danger tried to find a compromise.
“Look, Hermione why don’t you and Lavender and Parvati help Neville pick out something nice to wear. If he goes out thinking that he looks like a squashed carrot then he’s not going to have much confidence when it comes to speaking to Hannah, is he?”
Hermione look mulish but Parvati and Lavender jumped up from the floor and squealed:
“Make over!”
“Ugh,” said Ron - and Harry had to repress a shiver of agreement. No male in his right mind stayed in the same room as those two words.
“I only meant choose his clothes,” Harry added lamely but it was too late - the girls were already pulling Neville up the staircase. With a last frantic glance at the common room he was gone.
“He looked fine,” grumbled Hermione.
No one in the room dared to contradict her.
“Ugh, these are all wrinkled,” Parvati declared as she ransacked Neville’s trunk, “we’re going to need a smoothing charm, Lav.”
Lavender stuck her face in front of Neville’s and peered at his hair.
“What kind of product do you use?”
“P-product?”
Yes, product. You know - gel, spray, wax - what do you use?”
Neville bit his lip and tried to think of an answer that wouldn’t get him hit in the face.
“Um... shampoo?”
Lavender’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets and Parvati let out a squeak of horror.
“Is that bad?” he asked.
Neville stood in front of the mirror, hands at his sides trying - at Parvati’s insistence - not to look so ‘bloody uncomfortable’.
Lavender appeared in the mirror beside him.
“This shirt is in a lovely deep plum - it’ll bring out your eyes and compliment your skin colour - and because you don’t want too much heavy colour when you’re wearing such a dark shirt, you’ll wear these light cream trousers.”
Neville felt like he was getting the hang of this.
“So... I could wear white trousers too, couldn’t I?” he ventured.
Lavender and Parvati looked as though he’d admitted to eating babies.
“Never, ever, wear white trousers,” intoned Lavender as though she were delivering one of the Ten Commandments. “The only people who can get away with wearing white trousers are Antonio Banderas and Will Smith.”
Neville just nodded in agreement.
The girls seemed to take this as an all-binding oath never to wear the offending articles and continued with their summary.
“When it comes to scent - aftershave is your friend but please, for the love of God, don’t bathe in it. If you spend a little more on a good brand and use a little less, all of womankind will thank you.”
Parvati stepped around to place herself between the mirror and Neville.
“To the hair. We’ve used a light gel today, just to give you that little bit of lift and texture, so whatever you do, don’t go running your fingers through it, in fact - don’t touch your hair at all.”
She stepped back and Lavender began to check off all the improvements that they had made, before declaring Neville complete.
Neville slumped in relief before straightening in fright when Parvati shrieked ‘POSTURE!’
“So? How did it go with Hannah?” urged Ron when Neville returned to the common room, an hour after his makeover.
“She wasn’t there,” he mumbled.
“Huh?” grunted Ron, an empty expression on his face.
“She wasn’t there!” Neville exclaimed.
“What happened?” asked Hermione.
“Thanks to you lot by the time I got down there the sun was going. She’d already gone, according to the squid and I was left looking like an utter berk in a plum shirt and bloody cream trousers!”
Neville stormed away up the stairs. A few seconds later, everyone winced as an unseen door slammed shut.
Parvati and Lavender looked slightly disconcerted, while Hermione looked incredibly smug.
Lavender looked at Parvati, her face a mass of disbelief and annoyance.
“Well, he might have said thank you!”
Fandoms: Harry Potter
Pairings: None
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, just love 'em
Warnings: None
Summary: Written for the first round of the Harry Potter Last Author Standing Competition over at harrypotter_las.
“Oh my god, Neville what are you wearing?!”
Neville froze at the bottom of the stairs to the boy’s dorm, pinned to the spot by the sudden attention of the entire common room.
There was a sigh from one of the squishy chairs by the unlit fireplace.
“Ron, you have all the tact of a charging bull,” said Hermione, frowning. She turned to Neville, a smile on her face.
“You look lovely, Neville.”
“Lovely?! Are you blind, Hermione? He looks like his grandmother dressed him!”
“Ron. Shut up.”
“Where are you going, Neville?” asked Harry from his seat opposite Ron.
“I... I was just going out for a walk in the grounds."
“Then why are you wearing a brand new shirt?” challenged Ron.
“How do you know it’s new?” Hermione retorted.
Ron blushed furiously and muttered something unintelligible as he returned to his chess match with Harry.
“Date?” asked Hermione gently.
Neville blushed a deep red which, combined with his burnt orange shirt, made him look like a gaudy painting of a sunset.
“Well... Hannah Abbot may have mentioned something about being out by the lake this afternoon but...”
“HA!”
All eyes turned to Ron.
“Er, I was... I just... I captured Harry’s Queen, okay?!”
Hermione glared at him before getting up from her chair and walking over to Neville. She put her hands on his arms and squeezed gently.
“You look very handsome, Neville. I’m sure Hannah will be impressed and anyway, what you look like doesn’t matter;” she said dismissively, “it’s the person inside that counts.”
Lavender and Parvati giggled derisively from the floor where their Divination homework was spread out.
“Yeah, as long as the person inside is a millionaire,” declared Ron, his gaze fixed on the chequered board before him.
The giggling became louder. Neville bit his lip.
“Does it really look that bad?” he asked tentatively.
“No!” exclaimed Hermione just as everyone else chorused ‘Yes!’
Hermione looked as though she wanted to start throwing people out the window. Harry, seeming to sense the danger tried to find a compromise.
“Look, Hermione why don’t you and Lavender and Parvati help Neville pick out something nice to wear. If he goes out thinking that he looks like a squashed carrot then he’s not going to have much confidence when it comes to speaking to Hannah, is he?”
Hermione look mulish but Parvati and Lavender jumped up from the floor and squealed:
“Make over!”
“Ugh,” said Ron - and Harry had to repress a shiver of agreement. No male in his right mind stayed in the same room as those two words.
“I only meant choose his clothes,” Harry added lamely but it was too late - the girls were already pulling Neville up the staircase. With a last frantic glance at the common room he was gone.
“He looked fine,” grumbled Hermione.
No one in the room dared to contradict her.
“Ugh, these are all wrinkled,” Parvati declared as she ransacked Neville’s trunk, “we’re going to need a smoothing charm, Lav.”
Lavender stuck her face in front of Neville’s and peered at his hair.
“What kind of product do you use?”
“P-product?”
Yes, product. You know - gel, spray, wax - what do you use?”
Neville bit his lip and tried to think of an answer that wouldn’t get him hit in the face.
“Um... shampoo?”
Lavender’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets and Parvati let out a squeak of horror.
“Is that bad?” he asked.
Neville stood in front of the mirror, hands at his sides trying - at Parvati’s insistence - not to look so ‘bloody uncomfortable’.
Lavender appeared in the mirror beside him.
“This shirt is in a lovely deep plum - it’ll bring out your eyes and compliment your skin colour - and because you don’t want too much heavy colour when you’re wearing such a dark shirt, you’ll wear these light cream trousers.”
Neville felt like he was getting the hang of this.
“So... I could wear white trousers too, couldn’t I?” he ventured.
Lavender and Parvati looked as though he’d admitted to eating babies.
“Never, ever, wear white trousers,” intoned Lavender as though she were delivering one of the Ten Commandments. “The only people who can get away with wearing white trousers are Antonio Banderas and Will Smith.”
Neville just nodded in agreement.
The girls seemed to take this as an all-binding oath never to wear the offending articles and continued with their summary.
“When it comes to scent - aftershave is your friend but please, for the love of God, don’t bathe in it. If you spend a little more on a good brand and use a little less, all of womankind will thank you.”
Parvati stepped around to place herself between the mirror and Neville.
“To the hair. We’ve used a light gel today, just to give you that little bit of lift and texture, so whatever you do, don’t go running your fingers through it, in fact - don’t touch your hair at all.”
She stepped back and Lavender began to check off all the improvements that they had made, before declaring Neville complete.
Neville slumped in relief before straightening in fright when Parvati shrieked ‘POSTURE!’
“So? How did it go with Hannah?” urged Ron when Neville returned to the common room, an hour after his makeover.
“She wasn’t there,” he mumbled.
“Huh?” grunted Ron, an empty expression on his face.
“She wasn’t there!” Neville exclaimed.
“What happened?” asked Hermione.
“Thanks to you lot by the time I got down there the sun was going. She’d already gone, according to the squid and I was left looking like an utter berk in a plum shirt and bloody cream trousers!”
Neville stormed away up the stairs. A few seconds later, everyone winced as an unseen door slammed shut.
Parvati and Lavender looked slightly disconcerted, while Hermione looked incredibly smug.
Lavender looked at Parvati, her face a mass of disbelief and annoyance.
“Well, he might have said thank you!”