A Light of Meaning

Neville sat down at the kitchen table in the House of Black, and sighed. He considered asking Dobby for some lunch, but found he had no appetite. In truth, he hadn’t had much appetite for a good two weeks.

Two weeks earlier, at Bill and Fleur’s wedding, Harry had somehow managed to convince Mr. and Mrs. Weasley of the seriousness of his and Ginny’s relationship; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had forgiven their estranged children (although it’d been a close thing for Fred and George after Fleur’s father had turned into a canary at the reception). And as if that wasn’t enough, Ron and Hermione had gotten engaged during the reconciliation. Ginny and Ron, and by extension Harry and Hermione, had been happier over the last two weeks than Neville could ever remember seeing them.

While Neville was thrilled for his friends, he just wished he understood why their attitudes toward him seemed to have changed. Ever since the wedding Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny had started avoiding Neville; when they did see him they had trouble meeting his eye, and although they were still friendly to him, it was a formal friendliness and seemed hollow compared to how open and warm they’d always been before.

Fred and George, Angelina Johnson and Luna Lovegood, all of whom had also been at the wedding, hadn’t started acting strangely; that led Neville to think that maybe something secret was responsible for the change in attitudes of the four leaders of the D.A. But Neville couldn’t imagine what secret D.A. business could have to do with him; and if it was, why didn’t they bring their concerns to Neville? Did they have some reason to think they couldn’t trust him any longer?

The truth was, Neville was beginning to feel a bit like a superfluous addition to the D.A. The plants in the greenhouse were doing fine, and didn’t need his attention much. In fact, everything had been going so smoothly that Dobby the house-elf could have handled everything alone. Neville had done what he’d been brought in to do – set up the greenhouse – and now that it was done, he was at loose ends.

And he was feeling rather lonely – very lonely. Besides Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny, he didn’t know many other people very well. Fred and George, he was naturally wary of – he’d been on the receiving end of their pranks a few too many times to really trust them. Dean was still…somber; after what had happened with his best friend Seamus it was no wonder. And that was almost the extent of Neville’s close friendships.

As if that wasn’t enough to make Neville glum, Susan Bones had been spending every bit of her free time with Hannah Abbott. Neville knew they were best friends and Susan had missed Hannah terribly when Hannah’s father had dragged her to Canada, but he’d been rather hoping he and Susan might, well, make a go of it; he enjoyed their friendship and the very few times they’d gone beyond it very much. But Susan’s readiness to practically forget him when Hannah had arrived made it clear she wasn’t thinking of him as a possible boyfriend. In fact, Susan seemed more likely to enter into that kind of relationship with Hannah than with Neville.

Neville flushed and tried to banish the images that had popped into his mind when the idea of Susan and Hannah involved had occurred to him, but he still was forced to adjust his trousers around his half-erection. He somewhat envied Ron and Harry, having strong intimate relationships with very attractive girls. Actually, he’d had crushes on both Hermione and Ginny at some point, so maybe somewhat was an understatement-

Neville clunked his head on the table. He was definitely feeling lonely if he was having fantasies about his married and engaged friends…

A thumping on the stairs made Neville look up just as Susan, giggling hysterically, stumbled into the kitchen. She began to turn back toward the stairs when she saw Neville; “Oh, h-hi Neville,” she choked out, and giggled again.

“Hi, Susan,” Neville replied with a slightly fixed smile. “What’s going on?”

“Oh…nothing,” Susan said, and slapped her hand over her mouth while her shoulders shook.

“Um, okay,” Neville said. He felt himself growing hot as he looked at Susan; her cheeks were flushed, and the way her body moved as she laughed… He started to stand up. “Listen, Susan…I was wondering…”

With a shriek of laughter, Hannah fell into the kitchen; if Susan hadn’t caught her she might have hurt herself. Hannah clutched her sides as she doubled over laughing. “Hannah, be careful!” Susan managed to get out.

“Bah!” Hannah declared, standing up straight. “Hi, Neville!” she exclaimed loudly and stiffly, causing Susan to bust up again. “How are you this fine day?”

Neville sat down again with a dull thud and peered at the table. “Fine,” he muttered.

Hannah started dragging Susan to the fireplace. “Come on, or we’ll never get there,” she stated.

But Susan was watching Neville, and had stopped laughing. “Neville?” she said seriously. “Is- did you need to ask me something?”

Neville looked up and met Susan’s eye. She looked genuinely concerned, and Neville knew, from his first night in the house, that if anyone would understand about feeling lonely in the D.A., Susan would…

“No,” he said, trying to sound jovial. “It’s okay, it’s not important. You better go; you’ll be late for- well, whatever it is you’re doing.”

“Right you are, Neville!” Hannah agreed as she shoved Susan into the fire.

“Well- I’ll see you later, then,” Susan said awkwardly, just as Hannah threw down a handful of Floo powder and shouted “Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes!”

Neville peered at the grate in the fireplace as the last of the green flame flickered away. Then he stood up wearily, taking his time. If he thought he’d been feeling lonely before, it was nothing compared to what he was feeling now.

He was just considering going up to the greenhouse and poking the Venomous Tentacula to wake it, just so he could go through the process of getting it back to sleep, when the fireplace flared up again. Neville turned back, feeling a bit giddy – Maybe Susan had decided to return! – and was somewhat shocked to see Pansy Parkinson come out of the Floo. Her eyes trained on Neville as she dusted herself off. “Longbottom,” she said in acknowledgement, nodding at him blandly. She looked fairly exhausted.

“Hi, Pansy,” Neville replied, still a bit surprised. Pansy rarely showed up during the day any more, but it was only eleven a.m. “Why’re you here so early?”

“I couldn’t stand being around Mother any longer…at five a.m. she decided to start railing on about the horrible injustice the Wizarding World is doing her husband, and she still hadn’t let up when I left.” She snorted. “The only injustice is that the Dark Lord hasn’t used the Killing Curse on Father yet. Don’t look at me like that, N- Longbottom; if you knew half the things Father’s done to muggles and muggleborns you’d agree with me.” Suddenly, unexpectedly, Pansy grinned predatorily. “Say, it’s only eleven, on a Monday; which means everyone’s most likely away at work. That’s very convenient.”

Neville wasn’t at all surprised when Pansy grabbed him and kissed him hard; her belief in pureblooded superiority meant she would only do anything sexual with other purebloods, and Neville was the only pureblooded member of the D.A. not in a relationship. Neville couldn’t work up the energy to stop her, so he didn’t protest as her tongue found its way between his lips and her slim, nimble fingers somehow insinuated themselves inside his trousers and around his cock. But when she started to drag him to the basement stairs, he pulled away; “Wait-”

“For Salazar’s sake, what, Neville?” Pansy snapped, and then seemed flustered at the natural use of Neville’s first name.

“Pansy, Hermione’s down there,” Neville explained.

“Oh, Morgana’s sagging tits,” Pansy declared sullenly. She didn’t have a huge, angry outburst like Neville had half expected, though; she only looked…disappointed. Let down. Lonely, like Neville felt.

“Er…Pansy…” Pansy looked up and frowned at Neville. But she looked just as shocked as Neville felt when he heard himself say “There’s always my room…”

*****

Sweet Merlin, how does she do that? Neville wondered vaguely as he gasped. His back was pressed against the post of his bed, his trousers were around his ankles and his hands were buried in Pansy’s honey-blond hair as his cock disappeared down her throat. Doesn’t she need to breathe?

Pansy had stripped off her shirt, and her breasts swayed slightly as her head bobbed. Neville who had been too stunned last time to study her body at all, took the chance to do so. Her breasts were lovely; small, pert and pale, with slightly large cherry-colored nipples. Her torso, shoulders and arms were both muscular and smooth, nicely matching her long, graceful neck. Overall, Pansy had the figure and bearing of a fine aristocrat. Good breeding, I suppose, Neville thought a bit sourly, a slight flame of anger kindling in him. Pansy’s used to getting what she wants. But no matter how lonely I am, I’m not fond of being used like a toy.

Neville’s hand tightened in Pansy’s hair, and he unconsciously thrust forward, his cock going deep into her throat. Pansy made a small sound of surprise, and pulled back with a pop. “I can take a hint,” she said with a leer, giving Neville’s balls a slight squeeze. “Right to the shagging, then?” Without waiting for an answer Pansy stood up quickly. She made as if to shove Neville back to the bed, but her foot caught on the edge of the rug; she ended up lunging forward, but caught herself on the bedpost, and Neville found himself looking at Pansy’s back, her skirt hiked up invitingly high.

Neville reached out and flipped up Pansy’s skirt; her arse was just like he’d expected, small and firm like her breasts. “Oh, I see,” Pansy purred, looking over her shoulder seductively. “Want to have a bit more control, do you? Taking the initiative?” She straightened her legs and slowly, torturously, slid her shoulder down the bedpost, raising her arse and inching it closer to Neville. The way her tiny blood-red knickers framed her arse-cheeks drove away all Neville’s reservations; Pansy twisted so she could meet Neville’s eyes, and slowly licked her lips. “Is that better?” she asked in a sweet voice.

Neville swallowed. “Much,” he groaned, studying the way Pansy’s muscles played along her legs, at the beautiful tone of her skin in the dimmed candlelight. The fabric between her legs, he couldn’t help but notice, was quite damp.

“Neville, I didn’t stick my arse in the air so you could critique my knickers!” Pansy snapped after a minute.

The spell was broken; Neville’s moment of delusion that something more than a shag was about to happen was shattered. He almost sighed resignedly, but stopped himself; instead he slid Pansy’s knickers down, and after a quick Lubricus slid his cock into her arse. Pansy let out a low, breathy moan as Neville made long, slow strokes up into her, quickly increasing his speed until he was shoving her shoulder roughly into the bedpost and she was gasping for breath.

Just as Neville felt the first warnings of an orgasm, Pansy’s shoulder slid off the post and they fell onto the bed, Neville’s weight crushing Pansy. He shoved himself up quickly. “Sorry!” he blurted, making as if to move away, but Pansy’s hands reached back and grabbed his forearms.

“No!” Pansy blurted breathlessly, her voice a bit slurred. “Just tired. Don’t stop- bloody fucking good!”

With that order, Neville braced up on his arms and began thrusting down into Pansy’s arse, pounding her into the mattress. She began to shriek, bracing herself so she could rise to meet Neville, and she yelled the foulest obscenities he’d ever heard…

The force of an Unforgivable out of a wand couldn’t have matched the power of Neville’s orgasm. Pansy clenched as she came, actually arching off the bed and screaming into the pillow, and her amazing arse milked from Neville his come, his strength and the memory of his own name. He managed to roll to one side as he collapsed, and Pansy actually whimpered as Neville’s cock slid out of her.

Neither of them could talk or even move for several minutes. Finally Pansy managed to lift herself onto her elbows. “That- was- bloody- brilliant-” she gasped out.

“Yeah,” Neville agreed, blinking away the spots in his vision.

“So,” Pansy continued, getting her breath back a bit, “don’t play hard to get next time.”

Neville watched in bemusement as Pansy rolled over and tried, with questionable success, to get up to go. She really does look done in, he thought. She’s more tired than she’s letting on. “Er, Pansy…” she turned and looked at him a bit blankly. “You know, we’ve seen…well, everything each other’s got to see now,” he said, blushing, “so I was thinking it doesn’t make sense- I mean, you could probably-”

Pansy summoned up a weak sneer. “I suspect you’re trying to approach some kind of point, and I’m going to glare at you until you reach it.”

Neville went red all the way to the ears. “I just mean that you don’t have to run off,” he stammered. “You’re exhausted; you could catch your breath at least. Besides, where are you going to go?”

Pansy stared intently at Neville for a second; she looked as though she might say something scathing, but eventually her arms gave out and she collapsed onto her back. “Fine,” she said shortly, trying to stifle a yawn. “But only because I don’t fancy some random Gryffindor catching me sneaking out of your room.”

“Er…sure,” Neville responded. He lay staring up at the ceiling, letting his breath even out and listening to Pansy’s do the same. Okay, this is weird, he thought after a few minutes of awkward silence. “Er…so are the potions going okay?” he asked, and then was amazed anything so banal had slipped out.

Pansy turned her head and scowled. “Are you one of those boys who want to talk after shagging? Because if so I’m leaving right now.”

Completely red again, Neville turned his head away. He felt the bed move as Pansy shifted slightly, and after a bit she began to snore, very softly. Romance is alive and well in Dumbledore’s Army, he thought sourly before drifting off himself.