A Single Step (Or Three)
Title: A Single Step (Or Three)
Author/Artist: jairissa
Pairing(s): Neville/Luna
Summary: A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, even if it's a trip that Neville's not sure he's willing to take yet.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Neville stood impatiently at King's Cross station. He had been waiting nearly an hour, the monotony only broken as he patted his pocket apprehensively, checking for the familiar shape of Trevor under his fingers. He heard a whistle in the distance and turned his head hopefully towards the platform entrance, his face crinkling in disappointment when he saw that it was, again, empty.
Gran squeezed his arm tightly and Neville patted her hand in a manner he hoped was comforting in return. She looked at him sadly then looked away, apparently focusing on the clock above the platform. "Be careful," she said anxiously, squaring her shoulders and setting her face into a stern frown. "Do pay attention to your studies. NEWTS are this year."
Neville nodded shakily, admiring his Gran for the focus she somehow managed to maintain, stepping towards the train. He ducked back again abruptly, dodging a third year who pushed forcefully into the carriage before him. He shot an apprehensive glance back at Gran, watching silently as she walked away, leaving him frighteningly alone. He took a deep, calming breath then placed one foot on the step, holding tightly to the railing.
"Neville, there you are!" Luna called from behind him. Neville could have sighed in relief at seeing her again, ecstatic that someone had found him. She placed a hand on his back, pushing him softly forward. He stumbled, catching himself by resting a palm on the low shoulder of the closest first year. His chest constricted and he swallowed past a lump in his throat. The younger boy barely came up to his shoulder, and the innocent look he gave at Neville's touch made Neville almost entirely unable to breathe.
Luna pushed gently on his back again and Neville fell awkwardly into the corridor housing the mostly full compartments.
He looked left and right cautiously as he walked down the dirty corridor, seizing hold of the doorknob of the last empty room. A second year who had been moving in the same direction made a face and darted away from them. Neville felt slightly uncomfortable at having inconvenienced her, distracted as Luna bumped into his back. He moved aside, smiling a little as she brushed past him.
The whistle sounded again, ominously, and Neville bit his lip uneasily. He shuffled towards the free window seat, sighing and relaxing when he saw a familiar flash of red running past his window. He wanted to wave, but was so sure the red blur was not paying attention that he did not bother to raise his arm. The flashing redness jumped into the train's door just before it closed, and he felt a small bit of the tightness in his chest relax, just a little. There was a brief pause and the compartment door opened loudly, shutting with a bang behind the new occupant.
"Hello Ginny," Luna chirped and Neville craned his neck painfully to look out the window, brow wrinkling in confusion when he saw nothing following Ginny. "You look lovely in that shirt. Is it new?"
"Where are the others?" Neville asked, bewildered. Ginny glared at him unkindly, flopping into the seat nearest the door. She drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "Did they miss the train?"
"They're not coming," Ginny answered shortly, fixing her eyes on the view outside the window behind Neville's head.
Neville looked at Luna, hoping for inspiration. Luna had a small frown on her face, although her eyes were kind as she looked calmly at Ginny. "Are they stuck outside the platform again? Will they be arriving by flying car?"
"They're not coming," Ginny snapped, tightening her grip on her knees. She gave Luna a malevolent look, met with blankness that faded into concern as Luna slid across the seat to wrap an arm around Ginny's shoulder. Neville sat still in anticipation, waiting for more of an answer. It didn't come, which confused him further.
"Why not?" He asked, withering under the force of Ginny's glare.
"I don't know," she said darkly, her gaze shifting back to somewhere around Neville's ear, her lips pursing tightly together. He looked away shyly, following her gaze out the window, watching the storm clouds gathering in the distance as the train shuddered away from the station. "They wouldn't tell me."
There was silence, heavy and uncomfortable. Ginny shifted a bit, moving her arm so that she could lay her forehead on Luna's shoulder. "It's getting darker," she whispered. Neville hesitated, choking back what he had been planning to say. There were too many ways that could be taken; he didn't want to get it wrong. They all sat in silence, watching the sky darkening, an artificial night falling before midday.
They only break in this routine was the arrival of the food cart, more full than previous years, continuing its unbroken trip up the hallway. No one stopped it, and Neville's fingers flexed, wishing that he had brought his pocket money with him so that he could keep on with that one, small, tradition.
A group of cackling Slytherins walked past, barely bothering to dodge the cart. Neville watched them carefully, stiffening when one drew his wand, and relaxing when he finally put it away. They seemed smug, and he could not help but wince when he saw how bold they seemed this year: how little they wanted to hide the small cruelties he had become used to from them.
The train started to slow, and Neville jumped. He thought that he had only been staring at the empty corridor for a few minutes. Somehow they had got nearly to Hogsmeade in that time, and he patted frantically at his shirt pocket for Trevor, making sure that he hadn't hopped away while Neville hadn't been paying attention.
Luna moved, and he watched out of the corner of his eye. He looked at Ginny, and was surprised to see that her eyes were red, as though she had been crying. He reached over the seat to pat her awkwardly on the shoulder, the train shuddering to a slow stop. They all began to shift, stretching and reaching to pick up dropped trinkets.
Standing as one, none of them spoke, waiting to exit until the corridor was clear of slowly walking bodies. Neville tried to watch everything, sure that while he was looking elsewhere he would miss something crucial; some vital piece of information that would explain something he wasn't sure of yet.
Ginny gripped onto his arm, and Neville looked to where she was watching. It was the first years, a smaller group than usual, preparing to board the boat with Hagrid. Neville rubbed his chest, trying to push away the sudden pang of pain he felt at seeing them all crowding around the tall man. He could barely believe how small they looked to him now.
"Who's going to protect them?" Ginny asked softly as one of the tiny figures was picked up roughly by a teacher that Neville recognized only from photos and newspaper clippings. He shook his head in dumb horror, blood running cold when he absorbed the idea that no one was stepping forward to stop them. "With Harry, and Ron and Hermione gone?"
"We will," he said desperately, surprised that he sounded far more determined than afraid. Hagrid grabbed the child from Alecto Carrow and they all slumped in relief as she was settled back into the boat. "We have to."
***
"Hey, let me go!" A high voice squeaked, and Neville froze against the wall he had been pressing himself against as he walked. He looked around the corner, tapping his hands silently against his wand as he saw Amycus Carrow holding a second year hostage against a classroom door. "I haven't done anything!"
"You were skulking around the hallways at night, that's what you were doing," 'Professor' Carrow said, voice dripping with satisfaction. "Against the rules, it is. I get to punish you now."
Neville shrunk slightly as fear lit the child's face, a small measure of doubt over his safety seeming to penetrate his sure facade. Neville rather wished that he had Harry's invisibility cloak, so he could leave, and thus didn't have to watch yet another student dragged off the Profess...Headmaster Snape. While he knew it was ridiculous, a part of him was always worried that whoever was sent there wouldn't come back.
"You can't send me to the Headmaster's office," the boy said weakly, struggling against the force of the older man. "I heard him say at breakfast this morning, that he was sick of seeing students for small things. I heard him!"
"That he did, that he did," Amycus cackled happily. Neville thought he should be relieved that this new figure knew his place, but something in his throat remained tightly clenched, unsure of what he knew he was meant to be sure of. "Doesn't mean there can't be other punishments, though."
"I'm not afraid of having points taken off," the boy said boldly, and Amycus cackled again, fist flying so quickly Neville barely noticed it moving. A bright red mark appeared across his shocked face, and Neville gaped for a moment, entirely unsure of what he had just seen.
"Not talking about points," Amycus said, raising his fist again, and Neville looked over his shoulder, instinctively searching for the far stronger trio that he had become used to following. He, like everyone else, had no idea where they were, but they were certainly not here. He looked back, towards the increasingly terrified boy, and raised himself up to his, he hoped, rather impressive full height.
"Let him go," he ordered, hoping that he sounded authoritative as he brandished his wand wildly in Amycus' face. "Now. You're not allowed to hit students."
Amycus scowled, letting go of the boy to reach for his own wand. The boy, and Neville resolved to find out the boy's name just so he could stop referring to him as such, gave him a grateful look, then turned tail and ran. Neville didn't much blame him; he quite wished that he could do exactly the same.
"I can do what I want, I'm the Professor," the older man said, and Neville heard a slightly sulky tone to his voice that indicated that his words were entirely untrue.
"No, you can't," Neville retorted, standing his ground as best he could. He stood straight and, glaring, Amycus subsided, walking in the opposite direction than the boy had, muttering under his breath about authority, position and blood.
Just before he was out of sight, he turned back towards Neville, spitting. "Can't protect everyone," he sneered, and Neville's brow furrowed. "Old ladies are easy to kill, you know."
As soon as the man was out of view Neville slumped in relief, taking a few moments to calm his breath. He tried, desperately, not to think of Gran. She had assured him that she could take care of herself and, so far away, he clung to the determination to take her at the word that had never let him down before.
Stumbling, he felt his way blindly through the hallways, not knowing where he was going. He wanted, thought perhaps he needed, some form of comfort. He followed the instinct mindlessly, almost unthinkingly dodging the parts of the castle that had been taken over by the new professors and their pet Slytherins, and had come to be considered dangerous.
"Things are getting worse," he said in an undertone when he found Luna, sitting at their favourite seat in the library. He was not sure why he bothered: even the formerly draconian Madame Pince had softened on the students, directing the majority of her ire towards the new teachers and their pet Slytherins. "I just saw Amycus Carrow hit a second year. He only stopped because...well, because I stopped him."
He admitted the last bit quietly, flushing a bright red. Luna watched him thoughtfully, her flashing orange and turquoise quill hovering over her work. He waited for her to say something, slowly grasping that she, too, was waiting for him to speak. "He threatened my Gran," he said, disconcerted at how an empty threat bothered him so much. Luna's eyes softened, and she leaned forward, pressing her cheek against his.
"I'm sorry," she whispered into his ear, and Neville nodded tremulously.
"She can take care of herself," he murmured back, and he felt Luna smile against his cheek, her hair tickling his ear. "She's good at that."
"The Sardanomos will take care of her," she said steadily, and Neville laughed quietly, not entirely sure he wanted to know what those were, and how they would take care of his exceedingly sensible Gran. Nevertheless, he felt slightly better for he reassurance and he turned his head to kiss her cheek. She turned her head at the same time, and Neville found his lips pressed softly to hers, neither of them moving for a long second.
It was Neville who broke away first, looking down at her meticulously hand-written work, blushing a little. It had been...pleasant, really. Not quite like he thought it would feel, and he thought that he almost wouldn't mind doing it again, if he managed to get up the courage to actually look at her, and meet her unfathomable gaze.
He couldn't. It was easier, instead, to pretend that it hadn't happened and to reach for his bag, pulling out his own books and pretending to study. When he finally managed to gather his courage, nearly an hour later, he found her still staring at him fixedly, a puzzled look on her face.
He saw that look all the way back to his common room, repeating itself behind his eyes until long after he had managed to fall asleep.
***
This echoing scene had become so utterly familiar that Neville wondered why anyone involved would bother to keep doing it. It always started the same way: one of the new teachers would do something stupid. Neville would, despite his ongoing promises to his Gran, stand up and protest, and the entire thing would end in a stalemate because both sides knew the other would hex them if given the smallest chance.
"You'll see me after class," a furious Amycus Carrow insisted and Neville smiled grimly, nodding in acquiescence. The bell, rather conveniently, rang and there was a chorus of sighs, both in relief and disappointment, that no one had been tortured or, Merlin forbid, killed this lesson. Neville stayed where he was, watching as the classroom emptied and Professor Carrow wound his slow way around the unoccupied desks to stand in front of him.
He looked away for an instant, just one, as Alecto Carrow appeared at the door, and wand was snatched out of his surprised hand.
"Give that back," he said, more uncertainly than he would have liked. He saw the Carrows notice, cringing at the delight that lit at their disgustingly similar faces.
"Don't want to," Alecto Carrow sang with her childlike voice, and Neville backed his chair away from them in anticipation. He supposed a part of him had always known it would come to this; sooner or later, one of them was going to get him. He closed his eyes, expecting a hex or, a small part of him admitted detachedly, never opening his eyes again.
He didn't expect the slap across the face, the blow so surprising that it snapped Neville's head almost off his neck before he could properly right himself again. He didn't say a word, keeping his eyes tightly shut so they didn't inadvertently betray him. "Not saying anything?" Amycus asked him, sounding so put out Neville almost felt proud of himself. "Don't worry, you will, boy."
Neville kept himself very still, wanting to dodge the blows, and equally unwilling to give either of them the satisfaction. He supposed that might have made this harder; his silent resistance not allowing his body to move when it was meant to, and absorb some of the force.
"You'll regret this, you will," Amycus shrieked, and he couldn't help but gasp as he was toppled off his chair, one of them kicking him so hard that he heard a crack and winced at the short, sharp pain. There was a crash near his ear, and he cracked his eyelids open to see Amycus throwing a chair at the wall.
"He'll learn," Alecto agreed, glaring at Neville as she pulled her brother towards the door. "Just watch, he'll learn."
The room finally, blessedly, silent, Neville lay on the classroom floor and curled himself into a ball. It didn't help any of the aches, and made a great deal of them even more painful. He tried sitting, and standing up, but that didn't help either. It seemed easier to just keep moving; to focus on putting one foot in front of the other and not let himself pay attention to anything else.
Perhaps a little attention would have been nice, though, as finding himself out in the rain didn't seem to do much for making things hurt less. It did, however, seem to wash some of the blood he didn't realise he had been shedding off his raw skin, and Neville supposed that was probably an improvement.
Slumping against the side of the castle, Neville tilted his head up, trying to catch some of the rain on his tongue. He'd done that when he was younger, when the thunder that so often accompanied the rain had been the most frightening thing he had to think about. If he focused on the stray drops on his eyelashes, and the almost invisible taste against his tastebuds, he could almost pretend he was ten years old again, and that his world was still recognisable.
So absorbed in this, he felt rather than heard someone come up behind him, and a soft hand trace its way down his aching arm. "Someone had to do it," he murmured, trying to defend himself against what, he knew, was a fairly stupid thing to had done. "Someone needs to stand up to them."
Harry would have done it, he knew. The knowledge that someone would had been all that had gotten him through some of the worst of the past years, and Neville couldn't stand the idea that that sort of inspiration didn't exist here anymore. His only wish, really, was that he could inspire himself the same way.
"I know," Luna said steadily, and when he looked down at her he saw that her eyes were understanding, and kind. She was holding a cloth in her hand, and he had to wonder where she'd gotten it, how she'd known to come. He had to admit, rather sadly, really, to himself that if she hadn't found him he would have tried to find her. He hadn't realised quite how much he'd come to rely on her lately.
"It's not fair," Neville informed her, even though he knew full well it wouldn't make the slightest bit of a difference. "How you're always coming to patch me up."
"I prefer it when you're your normal colour," she said seriously, and he let her tend to him for a few moments, wiping away the worst of the blood. He wished she could scrub away the bruises that he knew were coming as well, and hide the evidence from view. Just for a few moments; just so that he could pretend they were all still safe.
Looking up at him, Luna's eyes flashed with a sadness that he wasn't used to seeing there. He wanted to ask what was wrong, to comfort her in the same way she did so easily to him, but a selfishness that he was ashamed of couldn't quite bear to put yet another weight on his already burdened shoulders; he felt he'd break beneath the pressure if even one more thing was added.
Instead he kissed her, taking solace in the familar taste of her lips under his, and the warmth of her body as it curved against him. "I'm sorry," he whispered, threading his fingers through her wet, tangled hair. "I'm sorry I can't..."
She cut him off with another kiss before he could finish apologising, and Neville thought that might be a good thing. The list of things he had to apologise for was enormous; he couldn't have decided where to begin.
Her hands crept up under his untucked shirt, and Neville had to bite back a wince; he wanted Luna to see how much the simple touch hurt even less than he wanted her to have any reason to stop.
He found himself moving without thinking, tugging her robes and shirt off mindlessly. When he reached skin he paused, stroking it gently and feeling himself relax a little more each time she ran a hand down his chest. Collapsing to the ground, she came gracefully with him, landing in an inconveniently formed puddle.
Neville couldn't help but laugh at it, at himself, and the sheer ridiculousness of what they were doing. "Do you want to go inside?" He asked, and Luna shook her head, eyes dancing with an echo of his own laughter. She raised her hand, beckoning him closer with a finger and Neville obliged with a smile, kissing her a little less gently.
He was slightly amazed at how unfamiliar something could quickly become, just by deviating the routine. He was used to taking this slowly; to removing their clothing first, and following a certain set of steps, hiding blushes and uncertainty the whole time. This time he didn't have time to blush; didn't have time to do anything but follow an instinct he hadn't realised before this that he'd possessed.
He pushed his hand gently under her bra and she gasped as he teased her nipple gently with his fingers before pushing the annoying fabric away to follow with his tongue. It became almost a competition for himself: how many different sounds could he get Luna to make by repeating the one action?
When they started to abate, Neville moved his mouth to her neck, kissing it as softly as he could while struggling with the uncooperative zip on his pants. Her hands reached between them, theoretically to help but really just making the entire process even more complicated.
His zip came undone with a quick, sharp tug and Neville pushed his pants down to his knees, getting too tangled in them to be able to kick them off entirely. Luna laughed again and he made a face at her, reaching under her skirt to push her underwear to the side, trying to position himself properly between her legs and somehow just getting himself even more jumbled up in errant scraps of fabric.
Reaching her small hands up to hold Neville's shoulders steady, Luna smiled at him serenely, and Neville took a deep, calming breath, shedding a large amount of the tension, and none of the desperate anticipation. He pressed his lips to hers again, shaking slightly as he reached his hand down, holding onto himself gently so that he could guide himself into her.
So occupied with his own unsteadiness, it took him a moment to grasp that she was trembling to, although the soft spread of goosebumps on her neck told of an entirely different cause. He pressed a kiss there, lips sliding against the slick rain-drenched coldness, hoping to warm her up, serving only to tug on the long cut that made a jagged line down his neck.
Hiding a grimace, Neville started to move slowly, thrusting gently as much for his own benefit as hers. Seeming to sense his hesitation, Luna wrapped her legs gently around his, raising her hips to meet his, controlling the speed so perfectly that Neville found himself panting for breath and gasping her name simultaneously.
His chest beginning to burn, in both a bad and particularly spectacular way, Neville tilted his head to try and shield Luna from the worst of the increasingly heavy rain. She smiled, stroking a drenched lock of hair out of his face as he experimented with various ways of resting on one shoulder so that he could use his now free hand to slide between them, stroking her soft folds gently in time to the rhythm of their movements.
Luna groaned, and Neville felt a flush of satisfaction at apparently getting any of this messy encounter right. He felt even more pleased with himself as her soft quivering turned to tremors underneath him and, not entirely able to stop himself, he began to move his fingers faster, hoping he would be able to hold out long enough to bring her with him.
As it turned out, he needn't have worried at all, as one stroke that was more rough than the hoped for gentle pressed against her clit and Luna let out a cry, clinging to him tightly. He tried to focus on the moment, to enjoy it properly, but something about the way their soaking wet bodies slid against each other, and the way her legs tightened around his hips undid him and he came with a hoarse cry against her neck.
Collapsing beside her, they lay in silence for a few moments, before Neville chuckled at the incongruity of lying in the rain, outside the castle with his pants down around his ankles with a still bleeding cut on his throat. Luna turned to him in surprise, her lip twitching happily when she saw the smile on his face.
"I'm sorry," he said, stroking the side of her face with the back of his hand. "This isn't quite what I intended."
"That's good," Luna said thoughtfully, and Neville's chest constricted for a moment, afraid he'd hurt her. "These sorts of things are always better when they're a surprise."
Neville sagged in relief, rolling on to his stomach so that he could watch her face carefully. "I'll have to make sure I don't plan it next time," he joked and Luna nodded happily.
"Although next time might be a while away," she added contemplatively. "I'm going home for Christmas next week, and helping Daddy with his Nargle search."
Disappointed, but determined not to show it, Neville nodded gravely, a little worried about how he was meant to protect her while she wasn't there to do it. A smaller, more selfish part, also wondered who was going to take care of him, but that was something he would never express to her.
"You should come with us," she added dreamily, and Neville felt a stinging pain at how much he wished he could. "Daddy would love to see you."
Considering the situation they were currently in, Neville doubted that. However, even if that weren't the case, he couldn't quite bring himself to say yes. "I think I'm going to stay here," he found himself saying, forcing a smile onto his face. "I have to...keep doing what I have been, I think. Someone has to."
Luna nodded thoughtfully, no hint of the judgement he had been fearing in her face. He rested his head in the crook of her arm, pressing a soft kiss to her side. "I think you're meant to," she said surely, and Neville wished that he could have half the conviction that she did. She leaned down, brushing a kiss to the top of his head, and Neville breathed in the scent of her hair, letting it wipe away just a little of his fear. "Then, when I come back, I'll be able to see how well you've done."
Author/Artist: jairissa
Pairing(s): Neville/Luna
Summary: A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, even if it's a trip that Neville's not sure he's willing to take yet.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Neville stood impatiently at King's Cross station. He had been waiting nearly an hour, the monotony only broken as he patted his pocket apprehensively, checking for the familiar shape of Trevor under his fingers. He heard a whistle in the distance and turned his head hopefully towards the platform entrance, his face crinkling in disappointment when he saw that it was, again, empty.
Gran squeezed his arm tightly and Neville patted her hand in a manner he hoped was comforting in return. She looked at him sadly then looked away, apparently focusing on the clock above the platform. "Be careful," she said anxiously, squaring her shoulders and setting her face into a stern frown. "Do pay attention to your studies. NEWTS are this year."
Neville nodded shakily, admiring his Gran for the focus she somehow managed to maintain, stepping towards the train. He ducked back again abruptly, dodging a third year who pushed forcefully into the carriage before him. He shot an apprehensive glance back at Gran, watching silently as she walked away, leaving him frighteningly alone. He took a deep, calming breath then placed one foot on the step, holding tightly to the railing.
"Neville, there you are!" Luna called from behind him. Neville could have sighed in relief at seeing her again, ecstatic that someone had found him. She placed a hand on his back, pushing him softly forward. He stumbled, catching himself by resting a palm on the low shoulder of the closest first year. His chest constricted and he swallowed past a lump in his throat. The younger boy barely came up to his shoulder, and the innocent look he gave at Neville's touch made Neville almost entirely unable to breathe.
Luna pushed gently on his back again and Neville fell awkwardly into the corridor housing the mostly full compartments.
He looked left and right cautiously as he walked down the dirty corridor, seizing hold of the doorknob of the last empty room. A second year who had been moving in the same direction made a face and darted away from them. Neville felt slightly uncomfortable at having inconvenienced her, distracted as Luna bumped into his back. He moved aside, smiling a little as she brushed past him.
The whistle sounded again, ominously, and Neville bit his lip uneasily. He shuffled towards the free window seat, sighing and relaxing when he saw a familiar flash of red running past his window. He wanted to wave, but was so sure the red blur was not paying attention that he did not bother to raise his arm. The flashing redness jumped into the train's door just before it closed, and he felt a small bit of the tightness in his chest relax, just a little. There was a brief pause and the compartment door opened loudly, shutting with a bang behind the new occupant.
"Hello Ginny," Luna chirped and Neville craned his neck painfully to look out the window, brow wrinkling in confusion when he saw nothing following Ginny. "You look lovely in that shirt. Is it new?"
"Where are the others?" Neville asked, bewildered. Ginny glared at him unkindly, flopping into the seat nearest the door. She drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "Did they miss the train?"
"They're not coming," Ginny answered shortly, fixing her eyes on the view outside the window behind Neville's head.
Neville looked at Luna, hoping for inspiration. Luna had a small frown on her face, although her eyes were kind as she looked calmly at Ginny. "Are they stuck outside the platform again? Will they be arriving by flying car?"
"They're not coming," Ginny snapped, tightening her grip on her knees. She gave Luna a malevolent look, met with blankness that faded into concern as Luna slid across the seat to wrap an arm around Ginny's shoulder. Neville sat still in anticipation, waiting for more of an answer. It didn't come, which confused him further.
"Why not?" He asked, withering under the force of Ginny's glare.
"I don't know," she said darkly, her gaze shifting back to somewhere around Neville's ear, her lips pursing tightly together. He looked away shyly, following her gaze out the window, watching the storm clouds gathering in the distance as the train shuddered away from the station. "They wouldn't tell me."
There was silence, heavy and uncomfortable. Ginny shifted a bit, moving her arm so that she could lay her forehead on Luna's shoulder. "It's getting darker," she whispered. Neville hesitated, choking back what he had been planning to say. There were too many ways that could be taken; he didn't want to get it wrong. They all sat in silence, watching the sky darkening, an artificial night falling before midday.
They only break in this routine was the arrival of the food cart, more full than previous years, continuing its unbroken trip up the hallway. No one stopped it, and Neville's fingers flexed, wishing that he had brought his pocket money with him so that he could keep on with that one, small, tradition.
A group of cackling Slytherins walked past, barely bothering to dodge the cart. Neville watched them carefully, stiffening when one drew his wand, and relaxing when he finally put it away. They seemed smug, and he could not help but wince when he saw how bold they seemed this year: how little they wanted to hide the small cruelties he had become used to from them.
The train started to slow, and Neville jumped. He thought that he had only been staring at the empty corridor for a few minutes. Somehow they had got nearly to Hogsmeade in that time, and he patted frantically at his shirt pocket for Trevor, making sure that he hadn't hopped away while Neville hadn't been paying attention.
Luna moved, and he watched out of the corner of his eye. He looked at Ginny, and was surprised to see that her eyes were red, as though she had been crying. He reached over the seat to pat her awkwardly on the shoulder, the train shuddering to a slow stop. They all began to shift, stretching and reaching to pick up dropped trinkets.
Standing as one, none of them spoke, waiting to exit until the corridor was clear of slowly walking bodies. Neville tried to watch everything, sure that while he was looking elsewhere he would miss something crucial; some vital piece of information that would explain something he wasn't sure of yet.
Ginny gripped onto his arm, and Neville looked to where she was watching. It was the first years, a smaller group than usual, preparing to board the boat with Hagrid. Neville rubbed his chest, trying to push away the sudden pang of pain he felt at seeing them all crowding around the tall man. He could barely believe how small they looked to him now.
"Who's going to protect them?" Ginny asked softly as one of the tiny figures was picked up roughly by a teacher that Neville recognized only from photos and newspaper clippings. He shook his head in dumb horror, blood running cold when he absorbed the idea that no one was stepping forward to stop them. "With Harry, and Ron and Hermione gone?"
"We will," he said desperately, surprised that he sounded far more determined than afraid. Hagrid grabbed the child from Alecto Carrow and they all slumped in relief as she was settled back into the boat. "We have to."
***
"Hey, let me go!" A high voice squeaked, and Neville froze against the wall he had been pressing himself against as he walked. He looked around the corner, tapping his hands silently against his wand as he saw Amycus Carrow holding a second year hostage against a classroom door. "I haven't done anything!"
"You were skulking around the hallways at night, that's what you were doing," 'Professor' Carrow said, voice dripping with satisfaction. "Against the rules, it is. I get to punish you now."
Neville shrunk slightly as fear lit the child's face, a small measure of doubt over his safety seeming to penetrate his sure facade. Neville rather wished that he had Harry's invisibility cloak, so he could leave, and thus didn't have to watch yet another student dragged off the Profess...Headmaster Snape. While he knew it was ridiculous, a part of him was always worried that whoever was sent there wouldn't come back.
"You can't send me to the Headmaster's office," the boy said weakly, struggling against the force of the older man. "I heard him say at breakfast this morning, that he was sick of seeing students for small things. I heard him!"
"That he did, that he did," Amycus cackled happily. Neville thought he should be relieved that this new figure knew his place, but something in his throat remained tightly clenched, unsure of what he knew he was meant to be sure of. "Doesn't mean there can't be other punishments, though."
"I'm not afraid of having points taken off," the boy said boldly, and Amycus cackled again, fist flying so quickly Neville barely noticed it moving. A bright red mark appeared across his shocked face, and Neville gaped for a moment, entirely unsure of what he had just seen.
"Not talking about points," Amycus said, raising his fist again, and Neville looked over his shoulder, instinctively searching for the far stronger trio that he had become used to following. He, like everyone else, had no idea where they were, but they were certainly not here. He looked back, towards the increasingly terrified boy, and raised himself up to his, he hoped, rather impressive full height.
"Let him go," he ordered, hoping that he sounded authoritative as he brandished his wand wildly in Amycus' face. "Now. You're not allowed to hit students."
Amycus scowled, letting go of the boy to reach for his own wand. The boy, and Neville resolved to find out the boy's name just so he could stop referring to him as such, gave him a grateful look, then turned tail and ran. Neville didn't much blame him; he quite wished that he could do exactly the same.
"I can do what I want, I'm the Professor," the older man said, and Neville heard a slightly sulky tone to his voice that indicated that his words were entirely untrue.
"No, you can't," Neville retorted, standing his ground as best he could. He stood straight and, glaring, Amycus subsided, walking in the opposite direction than the boy had, muttering under his breath about authority, position and blood.
Just before he was out of sight, he turned back towards Neville, spitting. "Can't protect everyone," he sneered, and Neville's brow furrowed. "Old ladies are easy to kill, you know."
As soon as the man was out of view Neville slumped in relief, taking a few moments to calm his breath. He tried, desperately, not to think of Gran. She had assured him that she could take care of herself and, so far away, he clung to the determination to take her at the word that had never let him down before.
Stumbling, he felt his way blindly through the hallways, not knowing where he was going. He wanted, thought perhaps he needed, some form of comfort. He followed the instinct mindlessly, almost unthinkingly dodging the parts of the castle that had been taken over by the new professors and their pet Slytherins, and had come to be considered dangerous.
"Things are getting worse," he said in an undertone when he found Luna, sitting at their favourite seat in the library. He was not sure why he bothered: even the formerly draconian Madame Pince had softened on the students, directing the majority of her ire towards the new teachers and their pet Slytherins. "I just saw Amycus Carrow hit a second year. He only stopped because...well, because I stopped him."
He admitted the last bit quietly, flushing a bright red. Luna watched him thoughtfully, her flashing orange and turquoise quill hovering over her work. He waited for her to say something, slowly grasping that she, too, was waiting for him to speak. "He threatened my Gran," he said, disconcerted at how an empty threat bothered him so much. Luna's eyes softened, and she leaned forward, pressing her cheek against his.
"I'm sorry," she whispered into his ear, and Neville nodded tremulously.
"She can take care of herself," he murmured back, and he felt Luna smile against his cheek, her hair tickling his ear. "She's good at that."
"The Sardanomos will take care of her," she said steadily, and Neville laughed quietly, not entirely sure he wanted to know what those were, and how they would take care of his exceedingly sensible Gran. Nevertheless, he felt slightly better for he reassurance and he turned his head to kiss her cheek. She turned her head at the same time, and Neville found his lips pressed softly to hers, neither of them moving for a long second.
It was Neville who broke away first, looking down at her meticulously hand-written work, blushing a little. It had been...pleasant, really. Not quite like he thought it would feel, and he thought that he almost wouldn't mind doing it again, if he managed to get up the courage to actually look at her, and meet her unfathomable gaze.
He couldn't. It was easier, instead, to pretend that it hadn't happened and to reach for his bag, pulling out his own books and pretending to study. When he finally managed to gather his courage, nearly an hour later, he found her still staring at him fixedly, a puzzled look on her face.
He saw that look all the way back to his common room, repeating itself behind his eyes until long after he had managed to fall asleep.
***
This echoing scene had become so utterly familiar that Neville wondered why anyone involved would bother to keep doing it. It always started the same way: one of the new teachers would do something stupid. Neville would, despite his ongoing promises to his Gran, stand up and protest, and the entire thing would end in a stalemate because both sides knew the other would hex them if given the smallest chance.
"You'll see me after class," a furious Amycus Carrow insisted and Neville smiled grimly, nodding in acquiescence. The bell, rather conveniently, rang and there was a chorus of sighs, both in relief and disappointment, that no one had been tortured or, Merlin forbid, killed this lesson. Neville stayed where he was, watching as the classroom emptied and Professor Carrow wound his slow way around the unoccupied desks to stand in front of him.
He looked away for an instant, just one, as Alecto Carrow appeared at the door, and wand was snatched out of his surprised hand.
"Give that back," he said, more uncertainly than he would have liked. He saw the Carrows notice, cringing at the delight that lit at their disgustingly similar faces.
"Don't want to," Alecto Carrow sang with her childlike voice, and Neville backed his chair away from them in anticipation. He supposed a part of him had always known it would come to this; sooner or later, one of them was going to get him. He closed his eyes, expecting a hex or, a small part of him admitted detachedly, never opening his eyes again.
He didn't expect the slap across the face, the blow so surprising that it snapped Neville's head almost off his neck before he could properly right himself again. He didn't say a word, keeping his eyes tightly shut so they didn't inadvertently betray him. "Not saying anything?" Amycus asked him, sounding so put out Neville almost felt proud of himself. "Don't worry, you will, boy."
Neville kept himself very still, wanting to dodge the blows, and equally unwilling to give either of them the satisfaction. He supposed that might have made this harder; his silent resistance not allowing his body to move when it was meant to, and absorb some of the force.
"You'll regret this, you will," Amycus shrieked, and he couldn't help but gasp as he was toppled off his chair, one of them kicking him so hard that he heard a crack and winced at the short, sharp pain. There was a crash near his ear, and he cracked his eyelids open to see Amycus throwing a chair at the wall.
"He'll learn," Alecto agreed, glaring at Neville as she pulled her brother towards the door. "Just watch, he'll learn."
The room finally, blessedly, silent, Neville lay on the classroom floor and curled himself into a ball. It didn't help any of the aches, and made a great deal of them even more painful. He tried sitting, and standing up, but that didn't help either. It seemed easier to just keep moving; to focus on putting one foot in front of the other and not let himself pay attention to anything else.
Perhaps a little attention would have been nice, though, as finding himself out in the rain didn't seem to do much for making things hurt less. It did, however, seem to wash some of the blood he didn't realise he had been shedding off his raw skin, and Neville supposed that was probably an improvement.
Slumping against the side of the castle, Neville tilted his head up, trying to catch some of the rain on his tongue. He'd done that when he was younger, when the thunder that so often accompanied the rain had been the most frightening thing he had to think about. If he focused on the stray drops on his eyelashes, and the almost invisible taste against his tastebuds, he could almost pretend he was ten years old again, and that his world was still recognisable.
So absorbed in this, he felt rather than heard someone come up behind him, and a soft hand trace its way down his aching arm. "Someone had to do it," he murmured, trying to defend himself against what, he knew, was a fairly stupid thing to had done. "Someone needs to stand up to them."
Harry would have done it, he knew. The knowledge that someone would had been all that had gotten him through some of the worst of the past years, and Neville couldn't stand the idea that that sort of inspiration didn't exist here anymore. His only wish, really, was that he could inspire himself the same way.
"I know," Luna said steadily, and when he looked down at her he saw that her eyes were understanding, and kind. She was holding a cloth in her hand, and he had to wonder where she'd gotten it, how she'd known to come. He had to admit, rather sadly, really, to himself that if she hadn't found him he would have tried to find her. He hadn't realised quite how much he'd come to rely on her lately.
"It's not fair," Neville informed her, even though he knew full well it wouldn't make the slightest bit of a difference. "How you're always coming to patch me up."
"I prefer it when you're your normal colour," she said seriously, and he let her tend to him for a few moments, wiping away the worst of the blood. He wished she could scrub away the bruises that he knew were coming as well, and hide the evidence from view. Just for a few moments; just so that he could pretend they were all still safe.
Looking up at him, Luna's eyes flashed with a sadness that he wasn't used to seeing there. He wanted to ask what was wrong, to comfort her in the same way she did so easily to him, but a selfishness that he was ashamed of couldn't quite bear to put yet another weight on his already burdened shoulders; he felt he'd break beneath the pressure if even one more thing was added.
Instead he kissed her, taking solace in the familar taste of her lips under his, and the warmth of her body as it curved against him. "I'm sorry," he whispered, threading his fingers through her wet, tangled hair. "I'm sorry I can't..."
She cut him off with another kiss before he could finish apologising, and Neville thought that might be a good thing. The list of things he had to apologise for was enormous; he couldn't have decided where to begin.
Her hands crept up under his untucked shirt, and Neville had to bite back a wince; he wanted Luna to see how much the simple touch hurt even less than he wanted her to have any reason to stop.
He found himself moving without thinking, tugging her robes and shirt off mindlessly. When he reached skin he paused, stroking it gently and feeling himself relax a little more each time she ran a hand down his chest. Collapsing to the ground, she came gracefully with him, landing in an inconveniently formed puddle.
Neville couldn't help but laugh at it, at himself, and the sheer ridiculousness of what they were doing. "Do you want to go inside?" He asked, and Luna shook her head, eyes dancing with an echo of his own laughter. She raised her hand, beckoning him closer with a finger and Neville obliged with a smile, kissing her a little less gently.
He was slightly amazed at how unfamiliar something could quickly become, just by deviating the routine. He was used to taking this slowly; to removing their clothing first, and following a certain set of steps, hiding blushes and uncertainty the whole time. This time he didn't have time to blush; didn't have time to do anything but follow an instinct he hadn't realised before this that he'd possessed.
He pushed his hand gently under her bra and she gasped as he teased her nipple gently with his fingers before pushing the annoying fabric away to follow with his tongue. It became almost a competition for himself: how many different sounds could he get Luna to make by repeating the one action?
When they started to abate, Neville moved his mouth to her neck, kissing it as softly as he could while struggling with the uncooperative zip on his pants. Her hands reached between them, theoretically to help but really just making the entire process even more complicated.
His zip came undone with a quick, sharp tug and Neville pushed his pants down to his knees, getting too tangled in them to be able to kick them off entirely. Luna laughed again and he made a face at her, reaching under her skirt to push her underwear to the side, trying to position himself properly between her legs and somehow just getting himself even more jumbled up in errant scraps of fabric.
Reaching her small hands up to hold Neville's shoulders steady, Luna smiled at him serenely, and Neville took a deep, calming breath, shedding a large amount of the tension, and none of the desperate anticipation. He pressed his lips to hers again, shaking slightly as he reached his hand down, holding onto himself gently so that he could guide himself into her.
So occupied with his own unsteadiness, it took him a moment to grasp that she was trembling to, although the soft spread of goosebumps on her neck told of an entirely different cause. He pressed a kiss there, lips sliding against the slick rain-drenched coldness, hoping to warm her up, serving only to tug on the long cut that made a jagged line down his neck.
Hiding a grimace, Neville started to move slowly, thrusting gently as much for his own benefit as hers. Seeming to sense his hesitation, Luna wrapped her legs gently around his, raising her hips to meet his, controlling the speed so perfectly that Neville found himself panting for breath and gasping her name simultaneously.
His chest beginning to burn, in both a bad and particularly spectacular way, Neville tilted his head to try and shield Luna from the worst of the increasingly heavy rain. She smiled, stroking a drenched lock of hair out of his face as he experimented with various ways of resting on one shoulder so that he could use his now free hand to slide between them, stroking her soft folds gently in time to the rhythm of their movements.
Luna groaned, and Neville felt a flush of satisfaction at apparently getting any of this messy encounter right. He felt even more pleased with himself as her soft quivering turned to tremors underneath him and, not entirely able to stop himself, he began to move his fingers faster, hoping he would be able to hold out long enough to bring her with him.
As it turned out, he needn't have worried at all, as one stroke that was more rough than the hoped for gentle pressed against her clit and Luna let out a cry, clinging to him tightly. He tried to focus on the moment, to enjoy it properly, but something about the way their soaking wet bodies slid against each other, and the way her legs tightened around his hips undid him and he came with a hoarse cry against her neck.
Collapsing beside her, they lay in silence for a few moments, before Neville chuckled at the incongruity of lying in the rain, outside the castle with his pants down around his ankles with a still bleeding cut on his throat. Luna turned to him in surprise, her lip twitching happily when she saw the smile on his face.
"I'm sorry," he said, stroking the side of her face with the back of his hand. "This isn't quite what I intended."
"That's good," Luna said thoughtfully, and Neville's chest constricted for a moment, afraid he'd hurt her. "These sorts of things are always better when they're a surprise."
Neville sagged in relief, rolling on to his stomach so that he could watch her face carefully. "I'll have to make sure I don't plan it next time," he joked and Luna nodded happily.
"Although next time might be a while away," she added contemplatively. "I'm going home for Christmas next week, and helping Daddy with his Nargle search."
Disappointed, but determined not to show it, Neville nodded gravely, a little worried about how he was meant to protect her while she wasn't there to do it. A smaller, more selfish part, also wondered who was going to take care of him, but that was something he would never express to her.
"You should come with us," she added dreamily, and Neville felt a stinging pain at how much he wished he could. "Daddy would love to see you."
Considering the situation they were currently in, Neville doubted that. However, even if that weren't the case, he couldn't quite bring himself to say yes. "I think I'm going to stay here," he found himself saying, forcing a smile onto his face. "I have to...keep doing what I have been, I think. Someone has to."
Luna nodded thoughtfully, no hint of the judgement he had been fearing in her face. He rested his head in the crook of her arm, pressing a soft kiss to her side. "I think you're meant to," she said surely, and Neville wished that he could have half the conviction that she did. She leaned down, brushing a kiss to the top of his head, and Neville breathed in the scent of her hair, letting it wipe away just a little of his fear. "Then, when I come back, I'll be able to see how well you've done."