Maybe One Day

Neville Longbottom thought it was too good to be true, him kissing the best looking girls at Hogwarts. He might, regrettably, have been right to think just that.

Neville Longbottom yawned widely as his constant attempt to keep his eyes open became dangerously in doubt, as he sat at his desk by the window in their Thursday afternoons History of Magic lesson. The dull, listless tone of their teacher Professor Binns (incidentally the only ghost teacher at Hogwarts) was ringing out through the classroom as he went about one his infamous marathon lectures. Today’s subject was about a rebellion in the late fifteen century where the Chief of the Wizard’s Council Elfred Hollingsworth was overturned by his own court, when he failed to recognise wands should not be used against opponents whilst playing Quidditch.

It was quite a meaningless point in history, owing to the fact it lasted only several hours, Professor Binns had managed to take longer telling the story than it actually lasted. Not even Hermione Granger, normally the only one immune to such a lecture could keep focused. As her likeness towards Quidditch was distasteful, she seemed to be paying very little attention and didn’t even bother to take notes nor stop Ron Weasley, whom was sitting next to her, from snoring.

Neville tried to think of something that might keep him awake. As of late he had taken on a bizarre yet interesting method in which he pictured every female in the in the vicinity, in only their bra and panties. It may seem like an inappropriate and a rather sexist thought, but it worked rather well in cases like this, even if it was all in his head. Today however, he felt himself grow somewhat lazier. He was by the window, the sun was pouring in and settling him into a sort of slumber, and soon his eyes had closed and another picture was forming in front of him.

He was out in the castle grounds, lying by the lake and surveying the jagged rocks of the shallows. He spotted an ant crawling majestically along a rock, it looked to be of abnormal size but on closer inspection saw it carried a crumb in its pincers. He leaned forwards as it scattered like a rabbit in a spotlight, and he got the sudden urge to put a hand out and squash it. He stuck his tongue out, leaned in closer and was just about to squash it when-

BANG.

Neville bolted upright in his chair, the History of Magic classroom swirled gradually back into focus, all around him there was scraping of chairs against stone floor as students rose to their feet. The bell signalling the end of class rang through his ears and, looking around; Neville spotted the source of the noise at once. Dean Thomas was sprawled on the floor, his chair was toppled over him and Seamus Finnegan was roaring with laughter.

Dean got to his feet, blinking and rather sore, but he joined in laughing once it had subsided and he and Seamus began to leave the room. Neville stood up last, wiping a hint of sweat from his brow as he grabbed his bag and looked around hopefully. By that time, though, everyone had scrambled from the room, leaving only him and Professor Binns who float casually passed him through the far wall, saying ‘Good afternoon to you Norrington.’

By the time Neville had managed to pack away all of his things and got out into the hallway, everyone was gone. Muttering to himself and asking a bewildered portrait opposite him what else was new, he heaved his backpack over his shoulder and began walking, fiddling with his pockets as he went.

The hallways were unusually quiet and empty for this time of day, considering the end of class bell had just rang out, he would have thought the halls would be pouring full of students. Then again, that bell might have been to signify the start of the next class, rather than the finish of the first. If that were the case, he was running extremely late for Transfiguration. He swore loudly; it was no longer an excuse for students to turn up late for that class anymore, as it was almost always on the spot point deductions or Saturday afternoon detention.

This upset Neville, particularly after he had planned to be helping Professor Sprout that Saturday afternoon sort out her latest batch of Mandragora pods.

However, as Neville descended the fourth floor steps two at a time and managed, in a rare occurrence to miss the trick step down a flight of stairs, he heard voices coming from the bottom of them. Curiously he stopped, why he did not know but he slowed down and came to a halt at the bottom of them, peering cautiously through the tapestry. To his left was empty, but to his right were two figures; they were young and very talkative and definitely females.

They looked to be standing just past a statue along the hall so he could see two long haired silhouettes against the far wall; thankfully, they could not see him. As he moved forwards he began to be able to hear what they were saying, and when their words were clear he stopped to listen.

‘…that is so true,’ came a very familiar toned voice from one of them, ‘Harrison is cute, but not in that way – I think he has a nice bum.’

They both giggled.

‘Oh I agree,’ said the other voice. This was less familiar yet Neville swore he had heard it before. ‘What about Jimmy Peakes?’

‘Eww… definitely not,’ said the first voice.

‘Really?’ asked the second.

‘No way,’ reassured the first girl. ‘Fat ass and no front teeth.’

‘I thought maybe he was adventurous, with no front teeth,’ admitted the second.

‘No,’ confirmed the first. ‘I’ve seen him in the change rooms, believe me you’re not missing anything.’

Again they giggled.

‘So what about Alex Button?’ the second voice asked.

‘Oh yeah… maybe,’ replied the first, ‘lose some weight, cut those damn sideburns and stop praising Gryffindor as if you belong in it and maybe…’

The two giggly girls burst out in laughter that echoed throughout the hallway and made their hair on Neville’s neck stand up. He literally sleeked firmly up against the statue in case he was spotted by one of them throwing their heads back in laughter.

 ‘Wait… oh, wait…’ the second voice breathed, controlling her laughter, ‘I have a good one! Neville Longbottom!?’

Neville felt his Adams apple drop into his stomach.

‘Oooh cute!’ the first voice replied curtly, without hesitation.

Neville felt a shock wave pass through him, beaming ear from ear and fought back the urge to yell out in joy.

‘Well cute-ish,’ the first voice added, ‘I mean… I love him and all, great personality wise and by no means a thick head but… I suppose he is a bit roundish-’

‘You mean the love-handles?’ the second voice suggested.

As the two girls shared a chuckle Neville turned red, looking down at his stomach and grabbing the fat on his sides.

‘I mean,’ the first voice continued, she seemed optimistic, ‘he may be roundish and into planting seeds of a different kind than I’m use too, but he is definitely likeable.’

‘Question is would you make out with him?’ the second voice asked.

There was a long, unrelenting pause in which Neville stood perfectly still, his eyes closed shut, his face pink and heart pounding.

‘Maybe,’ the first voice said finally; Neville almost pissed his pants. ‘He would have to take a breath mint maybe but sure, why not?’

Neville cocked an eyebrow as he breathed against his hand and smelt his breath; he would be bold to say it was entirely faultless.

‘I would pay you twenty galleons if you did,’ the second voice said in a high laugh. ‘In the common room tonight!’

They both laughed, Neville was rather sheepishly noting that the first girl did not completely discriminate against the idea. He shuffled forwards to see who had been talking, and when he saw who it was, he did something; something that he never in his wildest dreams, thought he would have the balls to do.

‘How about in this corridor right now?’ Neville said; he made himself known as he stepped out from behind the statue, quite unaware of where he had grown the strength to step out and say such a thing.

First initial reaction from the two girls was shock. They gasped and Neville grinned sheepishly at Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood, their eyes widened. His face was probably glowing pink by now, but he didn’t care – Ginny Weasley, who had turned out to be the girl with the familiar voice, had just said she would make out with him. Him – Neville Longbottom, the round faced, forgetful boy who always struggled with the simplest of spells. He was willing to bet anything that she would not go through with it.

In fact, he was willing to bet his Mimbulus mimbletonia plant she would back down.

‘Neville,’ Ginny said awkwardly, adding a little laugh, ‘err… hi, didn’t see you there.’

‘I was standing behind that statue sobbing over my love handles,’ he said rather boldly; where had he grown a pair of testicles?

Ginny and Luna looked at each other, seemingly impressed.

‘Look, Neville,’ Ginny began, returning her gaze, ‘what we said… we didn’t mean… it was just girl talk-’

‘Meaning you wouldn’t kiss me if I were the last guy on the planet?’ Neville suggested bluntly, ‘or that my breath smells like dragon dung? Believe me, you’re not the first girl to think that.’

He made to walk past them, but Ginny stepped forward in front of him.

‘I didn’t mean to insult you, Neville,’ she said, putting an arm out, ‘and what I said wasn’t all bad – I complimented you in case you forgot that.’

Neville blinked. ‘I...’ he felt himself go pink, ‘sorry.’

‘And not to be mean, but you aren’t exactly skinny,’ Ginny pointed out, ‘not that that’s a bad thing!’ she added hastily, blushing. ‘Some girls do like stocky men, you know?’

Neville looked at her, then past her to Luna who, although silent to this point, was nodding.

‘It’s true,’ she said.

‘What about wanting to kiss me?’ he dared to ask, flushing a deep ember.

Ginny smiled and took something from her pocket. For a fleeting moment, he thought she was going to hex him at the thought. However, instead she brandished something smaller, a packet of a peppermint creams mints, to which she diligently helped herself to first, before offering one to him.

Nervously he picked one up and put it to his mouth without thought. Not a moment after, Ginny was leaning upwards to him on her tippy-toes, her gentle hands on his shoulders as she moved in for the kill.

When her lips touched his, he felt lightless. His hands, although at first unsure where he should put them, found Ginny’s waist as he kissed back, the mint leapt around in his throat as if aware entirely of what was going on. Her lips were so soft. They hinted to him a taste of strawberry and Neville believed there to be absolutely nothing on earth that could compare with these lips. And after a minute and much wolf-whistling from Luna standing beside them, they pulled apart, breathless.

‘Whoa,’ Neville breathed, still rather pink as Ginny leaned back, grinning.

‘You’re not a bad kisser, Longbottom,’ Ginny winked, smiling at him.

There was a momentary pause as Neville took this in; Luna grumbled something when Ginny put her hand out, and she unceremoniously put a bag into the red-heads small hand. Neville, aware of what this was, thought he ought to retort.

‘My turn,’ Luna whispered, pushing Ginny aside casually and stepping forward to him with a broad smile.

She too had to get to her tippy-toes as she pushed on Neville’s shoulders to reach his lips. Unprepared, Neville had very little time to react, his hands found her bum and he felt his face flush as he kissed her back, struggling to keep everything within him in check. He felt dazed as the young blonde stuck her tongue against his lips, praying for entry.

He allowed it, unprepared for the consequences.

Her tongue dipped dangerously around his mouth, causing everything it touched to go numb. He felt a slight tingling sensation in the back of his throat as his tongue slid into her mouth, and it was just about now that he realised it. He realised who he was kissing, he realised what her tongue was doing, he realised where his hands were and that hers had mimicked it. He realised he had just kissed Ginny Weasley too, although not altogether as fiercely.

He felt the young blonde pull away, his hands slipped from her grasp and he felt his knees go weak. And without the added support, without any warning what so ever, he lost his balance and he began to fall. He fell backwards, in slow motion, watching both the young females raise their eyebrows as he coiled, hopelessly, towards the ground. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and his arms lay uselessly limp at their sides as he made contact, his skin instantly grew cold as it hit the stone floor gradually along the length of his body until his head-

BANG!

Neville’s eyes flew open as his head hit the stone cold floor. There were voices above, more than there should be, as well as laughter and distant ringing. Very, very, slowly, he propped himself up, and realised that, where he was, he shouldn’t be. A gut wrenching pain passed through him as if a sword had sliced him in two. He was laying on his back, in the History of Magic classroom, his head beginning to swell. Several of his fellow classmates were standing over him, asking if he was OK.

He sat up, sore and confused, wondering if it had all been a dream. It of course, had been. Class was finished now. The majority of which were making their way to the exit, whilst Harry, Ron and Hermione however, stayed back to help Neville to his feet.

‘Thanks,’ he muttered dolefully, rubbing the back of his head. ‘Dozed off.’

‘Hard not too, mate,’ Ron assured him, grinning. ‘Even Miss Impenetrable here started too.’

‘I did not!’ Hermione roared back, clearly outraged.

‘You nearly did,’ Ron assured her, Neville was losing track of the conversation.

‘Enough,’ Harry hissed, as Hermione had opened her mouth to retort.

They all looked around at Neville, who was blinking madly, desperate to get back to his dream.

‘Are you sure you’re alright?’ Hermione asked him.

‘Yeah,’ Neville nodded, ‘just a dream...’

And indeed it was. As Harry, Ron and Hermione left, Neville sat alone once again he was the last to leave. Professor Binns, usually unaware of the class coming and going, looked up to see him there.

‘Look sharp, Norrington,’ he said loudly, making Neville jump. ‘You’ll be late for class!’

The ghost disappeared unceremoniously through the same wall he had in Neville’s dream, leaving the sad boy to linger what might have been. He thought himself crazy if he believed attractive woman like Ginny Weasley or Luna Lovegood would ever consider kissing him. And with that last, distasteful thought stored in the back of his head, Neville got up and left, assuming a different path to Transfiguration that was, although regrettable, entirely red-head and blonde haired free.

The End

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