Ladyfingers

Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters and universe are property of JKR, Scholastic & other assorted publishers, and the WB.

Neville didn’t know why they had to have a party. Sure, the war finally being over was cause for celebration, but no one seemed to be enjoying themselves. Harry appeared to be having the least enjoyable time of them all.

Nursing his butterbeer while wandering about the first floor, Neville overheard Hermione say she thought Harry was having a miserable time of it because the festivities were going on at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place and he was reminded of Sirius’s absence. Ron replied that wasn’t the case at all; Harry just didn’t want anyone making a big deal out of him murdering Voldemort. Personally, Neville thought Ron was closer to the truth than Hermione, but he didn’t say anything. For one thing, it was rude to budge in on a conversation when you weren’t part of it and, for another, he didn’t want to look disagreeable.

Meandering down to the kitchen, Neville hovered near the table, laden with tray upon tray of Molly Weasley’s finest home cooking. Reaching for a few ladyfingers, Neville noted the table actually bowed in the middle from the weight of the food. Rocking back on his heels, he popped a bit of the treat in his mouth and chewed, grinning slightly. The spread on the table was the first real food he’d smelt or tasted in months, and it was good. Out there on the hunt for Horcruxes and Voldemort and everything in between, they hadn’t much to eat beyond things that were tinned or dried, easily transportable. That was utter rot compared to the food at this celebration.

The ladyfingers were good, if a bit rich. Brushing a few crumbs off his shirt, Neville took up his butterbeer again, only to find it drained. Banishing the bottle to the rubbish bin, he nipped over to the ice chest for another. Popping the cap off, he leant against the wall with a sigh before taking a generous gulp. He could feel the froth settle in his stomach, and he patted at his belly absently. It wasn’t as soft and round as it had been last year, nor was the rest of him. He was still a touch pudgy and round-faced despite everything, but he didn’t mind so much. Neville was who he was and that was fine by him.

Mrs Weasley bustled into the kitchen and waved her wand about, fixing heaping plates for what seemed like a small army. Dumbledore’s Army, Neville thought, and raised his bottle.

"To absent friends," he whispered.

"What was that, dear?"

Neville blinked. "Well, I..." He blushed a little, feeling awkward that she’d overheard him.

"Haven’t been able to find Ginny, have you?" she asked kindly, using her wand to direct the plates out the door.

Actually, he hadn’t thought on Ginny for some time, now that Mrs Weasley mentioned her. "I haven’t seen her," he said truthfully. He hadn’t been looking for her, but her mum didn’t need to know that. Heat rose in his cheeks just then, and he was glad she wasn’t skilled in Occlumency like certain other members of the Order of the Phoenix.

"If you do, tell her there’s a plate waiting for her and it’ll get cold if she doesn’t come straightaway. A meal can be given a nudge with a Warming Charm, but it just isn’t the same as hot straight from the dish. I’ll go spare if anyone has a warmed up meal tonight of all nights!" She gave him a meaningful look and followed the dishes.

Alone again, Neville replayed Mrs Weasley’s words in his head. Funny, he’d heard so many Mrs Weasley-sent Howlers at the Gryffindor table over the years that he could work out the real meaning of what she’d said. ‘Find her, Neville, and tell Ginevra she's DRIVING ME COMPLETELY ROUND THE– Oh, for goodness sakes! The food is hot and so is my temper!’ She meant just that, and Neville was fairly certain there would have been more yelling and a vein in her forehead would have throbbed had she cut to the chase immediately and said what she meant.

Setting his half-empty butterbeer bottle on the table, Neville took another ladyfinger for his troubles. Chewing thoughtfully, he mentally reviewed the layout of the house. Where would Ginny hide?

Neville had no doubt this was what she was doing. The celebration had to be a bit rough for her, it being Harry's big moment and all, whether he liked it or not. Although Neville had figured for the two of them to get back together after their split at Dumbledore's funeral, they never had, not even when Ginny buggered off Hogwarts during Christmas hols to join Harry, Ron, Hermione, Luna, and himself on the Horcrux hunt. While Ginny had been a big help to Harry, Neville noticed she mostly kept her distance from him, whispering and working on things with Luna or Hermione instead. It was hard, Neville thought, being around someone you cared for but not being able to let them know how much. Sometimes there were more important things to focus on rather than worrying about your own feelings.

He wasn't as familiar with this house as Harry, Ron, or Hermione, but that didn't stop Neville from deciding to go look for Ginny. It might take him all night, but he would deliver Mrs Weasley's message. She was counting on him, and Neville wasn't about to let her down. Starting out the kitchen, he paused in the doorway, catching sight of something out of the corner of his eye.

A bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky floated through the air, which wasn't in itself an unusual sight this night. Bottles and plates and food had been whipping in and out of rooms and round corners ever since the festivities had begun. What was unusual about the sight was that fingers, a wrist, and the cuff of a robe sleeve floated right along with the bottle.

Feigning needing to tie his trainer, Neville crouched down, eyes flickering up to watch the bottle of Ogden's.

One puffapod, two puffapod, three puffapod, four puffapod, five puffapod...

Slowly, Neville rose and began to trail the bottle of Odgen's Old Firewhisky and company. The bottle zigged and zagged about a throng of people in the room Ron had sworn was infested with doxies one summer, then made its way up a flight of creaky stairs. Holding his breath, Neville tip-toed up the treads, avoiding looking at the row of house-elf heads along the walls. He could feel their beady eyes on him, and it made his hair stand on end.

It was creepy, but Neville steeled his nerves. He was a Gryffindor He'd even looked Voldemort in the eye He wasn't about to turn on his heel and run just because a bunch of heads on a wall were staring at him Neville didn't turn on his heel and run, but he did shiver, and he felt gooseflesh rise on his arms.

If Neville's guess was right, the bottle would lead him straight to Ginny, and he could deliver Mrs Weasley's message and get back to trying to enjoy himself. For Harry's sake. It was Harry's party, even if people insisted otherwise (which they did - 'It isn't about Harry, goodness no, we're celebrating the defeat of You-Know-Who and the dawn of a new era '), and Neville thought that he would try his best to have a good time, since no one else seemed to be doing that.

Thankfully, the house-elf heads grew few and farther between as Neville ascended the flights of stairs. By the time he reached the top floor, there were no more. He stood at the landing, looking left, then right. The bottle and company had reached the top of the staircase well before him, and Neville wasn't sure which way everything had gone.

Worrying his bottom lip, he pulled a Sickle out of his pocket. Heads, I go left. Tails, I go right. The coin spun and tumbled end-over-end in the air before landing in the centre of his palm. Left it is.

Re-pocketing the coin, Neville turned left. His steps echoed heavily in the corridor, no matter how lightly he tried to walk. The carpet was threadbare in places and the wallpaper was yellowed and had water stains. Trying to ignore all of that, he focused his attention on the doors along the way. The first door led to a library of a sort, while the second was an unused bedroom. The third wouldn't open, not even with an Unlocking Charm. The fourth was ajar, and Neville pushed it in cautiously.

In the corner a jar of Bluebell Flames flickered, and Neville spotted the bottle of Odgen's after a moment. He was undecided as to what to do; he'd come all this way and now what? Ginny obviously wasn't in here; he'd been wrong. Maybe he should go.

Yes, Neville decided, that would be for the best. Maybe he'd run into Ginny on his way down to the party.

"Shut the door, will you?"

Neville looked up from the jar of Bluebell Flames and stared at the bottle of Odgen's and the fingers curled round it. What?

"You are staying, aren't you?" There was a soft rustling of fabric, and then suddenly the fingers and wrist and robe sleeve attached to the bottle became Harry. Neville spotted a pool of silvery fabric on the ground, Harry's Invisibility Cloak.
"Well..." Neville said slowly, staring at a spot on Harry's shoulder. "I could." He suddenly felt like he was intruding. "If you want me to, that is."

"I hate this party," Harry said abruptly. "I hate this place."

Neville nodded; he could understand why Harry felt that way, on both accounts. It wasn't like he'd asked for a party or wanted one; who in their right mind would want to celebrate just having murdered someone? Not Neville, that was for sure, and not Harry. He wasn't overly fond of this house either, but Harry's reasons were much more personal than his own.

"I hate all of this," Harry continued, taking a pull from the bottle. "All of it."

"It'll get better," Neville said after a pause.

Harry snorted. "How's that?"

Plopping on the floor next to Harry, Neville nicked the bottle and had a pull of his own. His face scrunched up; it was really hot going down. "You have to hit rock bottom before you can pick yourself up." Neville shrugged. "That's what Gran says, anyway."

Raising the bottle above his head, Harry eyed the bottom of it. "Dunno if I've hit rock bottom, but I reckon we could hit the bottom of this bottle. What d'you say?"

Harry looked so sullen and dejected that Neville couldn't say no. Delivering Mrs Weasley's message could wait; Harry was in some serious need of being cheered up. "Yeah. Sure thing, Harry."


*****

Neville was no more certain as to how much time had passed than how many times he and Harry had passed the bottle of firewhisky back and forth. It didn't really matter. What did matter was that Harry's spirits were higher (mostly due to the spirits he'd consumed, no doubt) and that Neville felt really, really good.

"Hey," Harry said suddenly, wiping at his mouth.

Neville's eyes rounded and his head lolled toward Harry's; they hadn't said much since they'd decided to reach bottle bottom other than recounting a few school memories, most of which made them laugh like loons. (In fact, Neville's side still hurt from laughing about Malfoy getting turned into a ferret.) "What?" When he hiccupped, it felt as though flames shot up his throat, and his eyes watered as he stared over at Harry.

"Gimme yer wand."

"Huh? Why?" As soon as he asked, Neville felt daft. Harry's wand had been destroyed from the force of the last spell he'd cast, the one that had disintegrated Voldemort's soul once and for all.

"Jus' gimme it." Harry's words were beginning to slur together, and Neville laughed, reaching for his wand. Passing it to Harry, Neville overbalanced, slumping against his chest.

"'lo." Harry's face was awfully close to him, his brain was beginning to feel fuzzy, and Neville didn't give a toss about any of it.

"'lo." The wand was yanked out of his hand and Neville shifted, pressing his shoulder blades against the wall.

"'s a nice wand," Harry murmured, running his fingers along the length of it in a way that made Neville's trousers a bit uncomfortable in the front.

"Yeah," he said quickly, drawing his knees toward his chest and stuffing the bottle of firewhisky in his lap. "Not as nice as m'dad's was, though."

Harry's face grew pinched, and Neville just knew he was thinking about that night at the Department of Mysteries, where Neville's father's wand had got destroyed. That was the night Neville swore he'd help Harry see things through to the end in any way he could.

"Sorry." Harry thrust the wand back and picked up the Invisibility Cloak.

Neville didn't know what to say to make Harry feel better about things, so he didn't try. Letting the empty bottle fall to the ground, Neville forced himself to his feet and offered Harry a hand up. "C'mon. I bet there's one place here y' don't hate."

Eyeing him dubiously, Harry accepted the hand. "Where's 'at?"

"The kitchen."

A slow grin spread on Harry's face, and Neville matched it. No one could resist Mrs Weasley's cooking, not even a grumpy Boy Who Lived.

Leaning on each other for support, they started toward the door, Harry's Invisibility Cloak draped over one arm. With any luck, they'd bump into Ginny on the way to the kitchen.

Mouth watering from just thinking about having more of Mrs Weasley's ladyfingers, Neville's fingers curled round the serpentine-shaped doorknob and twisted. A stream of light peaked through the crack, and he pulled the door toward them. The hinges groaned in protest, and Neville felt Harry tense beside him.

"What is't?" he asked, hand still on the knob.

"D'you hear that?" Harry whispered, and Neville cocked his head to the side, straining to hear whatever it was that Harry had.

Jingle jingle jingle.

There.

It got louder and louder, and then he could make out footsteps as well.

"Yeah," Neville whispered back, not entirely sure why they were whispering in the first place.

Jingle JINGLE JING–

Neville's brain finally registered just what was making the jingling sound as Harry dragged him by the sleeve backwards into the room, herding him into the farthest corner.

"Harry, wha–"

"Wand!" Harry snapped, and Neville, confused, obliged.

Harry swished the wand and, just as the door opened, the invisibility cloak spread out in front of them to hang in the air as if it were a shower curtain. A shower curtain that rendered those behind it invisible, but a shower curtain nonetheless.

Across the room, the Bluebell Flames flickered in the jar, casting a blue light on Luna Lovegood and her bottlecap necklace.

"I was right!"

Neville hadn't even realised he'd spoken aloud until Harry's elbow flew back, nudging him in the belly hard. Reeling backwards a few steps, Neville would have overbalanced and sank to the floor had Harry not taken a quick step back to pin Neville against the wall.

Luna's head spun round and Neville felt Harry tense against him. This was getting a little silly, and Neville thought maybe he should simply say so, charm down the cloak, and say hullo to Luna. It was only Luna. If Harry didn't feel like having a chat with her, she'd understand. Hiding to avoid talking to someone was a bit much.

Neville didn't get a chance to announce how silly the whole thing was becoming, because the hinges on the door creaked and there stood Ginny in the doorway. Light from the corridor outlined her silhouette, and Neville couldn't remember a time when he'd seen her look so beautiful.

Yes, he really would say this was silly, charm down the cloak, say hullo to Luna, and deliver Mrs Weasley's message now. He'd been right all along - that bottle of Odgen's Old Firewhisky had led him to Ginny.

"There you are," Luna said, and even in the dim light Neville could see that her eyes were wide and dreamy. "I thought perhaps you were busy being ridden by a boo hag. Have you still got your breath?"

Ginny stepped inside, inclining her head toward Luna, and her mouth curved in a smile that Neville could only describe as wicked. "I've still got my breath." The smile widened, and Neville began to feel uncomfortable, like maybe he and Harry ought to leave or something, although he didn't understand just why he felt that way. "I wasn't busy being ridden by a boo hag, but I'm about to be busy riding a Ravenclaw."

If Luna replied to that, Neville didn't hear it. He leant his head forward and whispered into Harry's ear, "Let's go."

Harry responded by shaking his head and placing a finger to his lips after mouthing, "We can't."

Well, okay. Harry had a point, Neville thought. If they tried to leave now, they'd be discovered and it would be a whole world of awkward. Besides, he felt his cock harden in his trousers when Ginny's thin fingers slid under Luna's bottlecap necklace to flick open the buttons on her blouse. Her breasts were bare under the blouse, and if he squinted just so he could see the curve of her breasts and dusky pebble-hard nipples. His knees felt like they were made of jelly, and Neville began to slide down the wall. Lightning-fast, Harry's hand shot back, pushing hard and upright. Neville moaned softly; Harry's hand was pressing against his cock.

A voice in his head screamed that this wasn't right, that it was dirty and wrong of him to spy on his friends like this, but then Ginny licked a stripe from low on Luna's belly right up between her breasts, and Neville told that voice to shut its gob. The tip of Ginny's tongue darted out to circle Luna's nipple, and Neville gasped with Luna; Harry's hand pressed more firmly against him and began to rub. Neville'd never really given blokes much thought before, and likely it wasn't a good idea of him to be doing things like this with Harry of all blokes, especially when his ex-girlfriend was across the room having it off with another girl. However, Harry's hand felt too good for Neville to seriously consider asking him to stop. Figuring he ought to return the favour in some way, Neville reached round to grab at Harry's chest, fingers skirting until he felt a flat nipple beneath the thin cotton tee. Pinching at cotton and flesh, Neville panted and twisted, which earned him an interesting reaction. Harry bucked backward, and Neville's cock dug into his arse.

His mouth gaped open, which was good because Neville forgot how to breathe through his nose as he watched. Ginny's hands skated down Luna's lithe form, fingers hooking under the hem of her skirt. In one smooth motion the skirt was flipped up against Luna's belly, revealing her milky white thighs and pink knickers. Neville vaguely noted the pink matched her radish earrings as Ginny shoved them down, falling to her knees gracelessly before Luna.

Ginny was angled in a way that Neville could see how heavy-lidded her eyes were, and he was really grateful for it. She looked hungry, almost feral as her palms pushed Luna's thighs apart. Neville saw a flash of pink beneath dark blonde curls before Ginny's head got in the way, and he sucked in a breath so quickly it made his lungs burn. In front of him, Harry whimpered, the sound rumbling against Neville's back, and Neville snapped. Neville snapped, spinning Harry forcefully round to face him. Faint sounds, like a cat licking at cream, reached his ears, but Neville couldn't focus on that. He could only focus on Harry and the hardness against his thigh.

"Harry," Neville rasped, forgetting to whisper.

"Shuddurp," Harry ordered, and then he covered Neville's mouth so Neville didn't have to try and remember how to shuddurp. Harry's lips were chapped and soft, and Neville liked the sound Harry made when his teeth scraped over Harry's tongue. This was good, and so were the hands fumbling at his zip. His own hands attacked Harry's fastenings, and before he could think Mimbulus mimbletonia, Harry's hand was on his cock and his was on Harry's.

It felt strange to hold someone else's cock in his hand, but not too strange. It was just like wanking himself, but from a different angle in a way. He hadn't spit in his hand, so his palm stuttered across Harry's skin; Neville didn't think he minded at all. Rubbing his palm in a circle over the head, Neville dragged it back, pulling Harry's foreskin back and then pushing it forward again. Harry let out a hiss and mirrored Ginny's earlier actions, dropping to his knees.

Neville kept his eyes wide open as he felt the flat of Harry's tongue lick along the underside of his cock, tracing a line up and then down the prominent vein there. His hips canted forward, and he could see that Luna was having difficulty staying still as well. Her hips jerked forward and rocked back, and colour bloomed under the pale skin on her chest. Ginny's head nodded and bobbed, and when Neville glanced down he could see Harry's doing the same.

Lips and tongue slid slow and slick over him, and Neville dug his fingers into Harry's scalp. "Fuck," he whispered, thrusting, pushing himself farther into Harry's throat.

Harry sucked hard and used his teeth, and Neville felt a pull in his groin. This was so bloody wrong and hot, and oh shit Harry was even mouthing his bollocks. Neville's hands slipped down Harry's scalp and out over his cheeks, digging his nails into Harry's skin.

They could get caught, couldn't they? The notion crossed his mind and, for the briefest of moments, he thought they should stop this immediately. If Ginny and Luna saw them, Neville knew he and Harry would be in for it, and-- Harry sucked him even harder just then and Neville tossed the notion out the window. Surely Ginny and Luna were too involved to notice them, and it wasn't like Harry was making a lot of noise anyway; his mouth was rather occupied.

Harry's mouth was quite full, and he sure knew what to do with his tongue and teeth and probably anything else he might decide to put to use. This was so good and dirty, and Neville had to cram a fist to his mouth to keep from crying out. He felt a finger press against his arsehole and slip in, and Neville couldn't help himself. Whimpering, a shudder tore through him and he fucked Harry's mouth as though his life depended on it. Luna's cries urged him on, and Neville felt himself coming. Hot liquid spilled into Harry's mouth, and Neville didn't let go until the last bit of his seed was spent. Gasping for air, he pulled his softening cock out of Harry's mouth, and was nearly ready to have another go of it as he watched a trickle of come spill from the corner of Harry's lip.

Harry stood, wiping at his mouth and rearranging his clothes, and over his shoulder Neville saw Ginny do the same. Re-doing his own zip, Neville stared at Harry. Adrenaline pumped through his veins and that, combined with the haze of alcohol consumed earlier, made Neville's head spin. They'd just had it off together. What did that mean? He froze; did it mean anything?

Low, throaty laughter and the jingle jingle jingle of Luna's necklace jolted him from his thoughts.

"They're..."

"Leaving," Harry said faintly, and Neville nodded.

The door hinges groaned again, and there was an audible click as it shut fast.

Neville and Harry were alone again.

The sudden silence grew uncomfortable fast, and Neville scuffed his foot against a floorboard while Harry chewed on his bottom lip. Neville hoped he wasn't going to apologise for what just happened; that would be more than a little mortifying.

"Why'd y' follow me?"

Neville blinked; that hadn't been what he'd been expecting Harry to say. "Looking for Ginny. Her mum wanted me t' play Owl."

Harry leant against the wall beside him, his head lolling toward Neville. "What were y' s'posed t' say, Owl?"

"Oh, just that she'll go spare if Ginny has a warmed up meal tonight." Neville shrugged, eyes falling on the empty bottle of Odgen's. Would've been nice to have a nip of that right now, or even a butterbeer.

For a long moment Harry just stared at him, and then he let out a snort. "Reckon she's already had a hot meal, mate."

Feeling his face burn, Neville nodded and ducked his head. "So've you," he said pointedly.

Harry grinned. "Yeah. I have."

Well, Neville thought sensibly, he didn't deliver Mrs Weasley's message, but at least he succeeded in cheering Harry up. And then some.