Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All rights go to respective owners.

Chapter Summary: College! AU. Neville is dragged to a party over the winter holidays and meets the most unlikely person. Is it love?

Dance With Me

"Neville! Come on, mate. You've gotta tell us! Who was she?"

Classes had finally finished for the day, and Neville was exhausted. The first day back to school after winter holidays was always brutal, and it wasn't like he had slept much the night before anyway. He had barely opened the door and stumbled into the house that he shared with his friends, when he was promptly surrounded.

"Neville!"

"What?" he asked wearily, as he shrugged his backpack off and sat on a nearby chair. Maybe he could act clueless, and they would leave him alone. If he were being honest with himself, he wasn't sure how to exactly explain last night.

It wasn't his policy to explicit describe what happened on dates, or brag about the girls he met.

"Don't 'What?' us, Neville," Seamus rebuked. He was practically bouncing on his seat with excitement. "You've been avoiding us all day. You know exactly what we're talking about!"

And there goes the idea of playing dumb, Neville thought sarcastically.

"I've been going to class all day, idiot," he replied gruffly. "Can you say the same?"

"Whatever," Seamus replied, completely unfazed. "Tell us!"

"You don't have to say anything," Harry countered from where he stood in the doorway. Neville looked at him with gratitude, which the raven-haired man returned with an easy grin.

"What?" Ron exclaimed. "Don't listen to Harry, Neville. You have to tell us! I mean, come on! She was so hot!"

"I don't think Hermione would like hearing you say that," Dean replied, without even looking up from his sketching. Ron flushed at the mention of his girlfriend, and Neville and the rest of the guys laughed. If they knew three things about Ron and Hermione, it was that they were completely devoted to each other. Ron had a terrible habit of speaking without thinking.

And also that Hermione had an awful temper.

"Well, if that's all," Neville said abruptly, standing back up and grabbing his backpack. "I'm going to get started on my homework. My botany professor assigned us the task of constructing and maintaining a terrarium with non-native plants. I have to find a way to keep tropical flowers—"

"Neville," Seamus groaned. "You didn't take about plants with this girl, did you? Because — in case you haven't noticed, mate — you're the only one who really cares." Ron nodded emphatically in agreement.

Neville felt himself flush at the comment. He saw Harry glare at Seamus and Ron, and knew there would be an argument if he didn't intervene. Maybe, just this once, he would toss them a bone.

"You know what? I did talk about plants," he said, much more fiercely than he intended. "And you know what else? I don't think she minded."

.oOo.

The Night Before

.oOo.

It was the party of the year — the event to attend — and Neville wanted to be anywhere else.

Literally, anywhere else.

The problems all started when some girl — Astoria, Neville reminded himself — had invited Harry and Ron to her older sister's party, completely ignoring the fact that Daphne Greengrass barely tolerated the two guys. But Harry and Ron were the star football players for their university, so Daphne had gritted her teeth and told them they were welcome to come. They were also told to bring friends, so that's how he got an official invite. However, it wasn't even like they weren't already invited in the first place. It was common knowledge that it was an open initiation to anyone who heard about it through the grapevine, and most people were bound to drop by at some point during the evening.

It was just all about saving face with the Greengrass family. Harry and Ron were welcome to come to the party, and bring whomever they wanted, because of their status at school. But since their families historically disagreed on politics and ideology, Daphne openly disliked them and would never personally invite them.

Politics like that made Neville's head hurt. He never cared for them and neither did Ron. Harry would claim the same, but he was scarily good at understanding and playing by the rules, anyway.

But that's how he found himself at a fancy party in some lake-side manor that he would rather not be at, dressed to the nines and wearing a stupid fedora Dean said would go with his outfit. Dean said it made his look "classic." Neville just felt out of place.

By this point, it was almost midnight, and his friends had long since abandoned him. Dean and Seamus were chatting up some girls, while Ron and Harry were dancing with their girlfriends on the dance floor. Neville was standing to the side of the dance floor, watching them have fun when a voice spoke up next to him.

"Do you want a drink?"

Neville turned to find a stunningly beautiful woman talking to him. She looked to be about his age. Soft, chaotic black curls framed her face and pale green eyes, and a colorful tapestry of detailed watercolor flower tattoos graced her upper arms. He could pick out pale yellow globeflowers, purple heather, cottongrass, pastel pink Rhododendron, and yellow gorse.

She's really beautiful. She asked if I wanted a drink. She has flower tattoos. And she's talking to me. Why?

A gentle cough snapped him out of his tumultuous thoughts.

She was smiling at him, and was still waiting for him to respond to her question. At least, he thought she was talking to him. He quickly glanced behind him, just in case. No one was there.

It was just the two of them.

"Uh… I mean, shouldn't I be asking you that?" he replied.

Smooth, Neville. Real smooth.

She laughed at his flustered response, but it wasn't in a mean way. It was gentle and sweet, and her eyes sparkled long after she stopped. Neville knew in that moment he was hopelessly in love. He had always thought those stories about people just knowing were dumb, and even if they did occur, they would never happen to him.

He was so very clearly wrong.

"Sure, if you want to," she replied with a shrug. "I just asked because you looked like you needed saving."

Oh, that would explain it. She was just talking to him out of pity. He must look pretty lonely, standing there all by himself. He could feel his face fall.

"What? Oh, no! Not like that!" she exclaimed, a look of horror on her face. "I didn't mean it like that! I just meant, well … you were standing all by yourself and I didn't know why. I mean, you're cute and seemed nice, and honestly? I needed a bit of saving, too."

"You do?" Neville asked, his confidence boosted. She nodded in response.

"Don't look back, but there's a guy on the other side of the dance floor glaring at us," she said. She shot a quick glance over his shoulder and grimaced. "Well, he's glaring at me. You're just being glared at due to proximity."

"And why is he glaring at you?" Neville questioned.

"You know, I can understand theoretical particle physics, but I can't understand college guys," she replied, rolling her eyes. "They're all idiots. You would think they would understand the concept of 'no' — or at least, a kick to the balls when the word doesn't sink in."

Despite her request, he looked behind him. Across the dance floor, there was not just one guy glaring at her, but three. They were all oversized jocks. He glared at them and offered a rude gesture.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he turned back around. He reached up and gently tucked a curl behind her ear. She blushed, and he hastily put his hand back down.

"I'm fine. They didn't touch me," she replied with a wry grin. "Otherwise, there would be broken bones — and I would have been the one dealing them out, not receiving them. But honestly they're like trolls: limited intelligence and bigger babies than they appear. Just act bigger than they are, and they run to a corner to cry and sulk."

Neville felt his lips quirk into a smile. "Trolls?" he said. "That's an odd analogy."

"Yeah, well it's true," Morgana replied. "Aren't trolls really dumb in fairy tales? Anyway, speaking of fairy tales, thanks for being my knight in shining armor. I appreciate it."

"It's not a problem. You won't have to deal with anyone you don't want to," Neville swore. "Not when you're with me." She raised an eyebrow at that.

"No offense, or anything. You're…" She raised a hand and moved to touch his chest, only to pull back at the last second. "…strong, but there's three of them. I didn't want to scare you off."

"I can handle myself in a fight," he said with a confident grin. "Also, I feel like there might be a few more than three of them. You're holding back again."

She glared at him. The intensity of her stare was lost when her lips twitched into a small smile.

"Shut up. Anyway, you never said what you were doing all alone."

He shrugged.

"This really isn't my scene," he explained. "My friends dragged me here. I would rather be working on my miniature greenhouse. That's part of what I'm studying, by the way. Botany and planetary sciences."

"That's cool," she said. "You must like my tattoos then."

"I like you."

The bold words just spilled out of his mouth. He watched as her cheeks vividly flushed in shock, and he could feel his doing the same. Why had he said that? They had just met—

He didn't even know her name.

Before he could try and apologize, she decided to break the silence. Taking a daring step forward, in one movement, she looped her arm around his waist and took his hat off his head. Neville felt his heart beat wildly in his chest.

"A botanist and a physicist," she said softly, "what an odd pair. Dance with me?"

"Of course," he said smoothly, her face lighting up in response. "Just one condition, though."

"What?" she asked a little suspiciously.

"I would really like to know your name. I'm Neville."

She froze and then started laughing. "We kind of skipped over that, didn't we? I'm Morgana."

Morgana.

He smiled and opened his mouth to say something, when she cut him off. She grabbed his arm and pulled him onto the dance floor.

"Eyes on me, mister," she said jokingly.

"Why would I look anywhere else, when you're here in front of me?" he replied.

She rolled her eyes.

"Just shut up and dance with me."

"Yes, ma'am!"

Prompt (Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry — Writing Club) Write about your OTP at a party.

Optional Prompts Used:

(au) University/College

(dialogue) "Do you want a drink?"

(object) Hat

(song) "Shut Up and Dance" by Walk the Moon

(word) Colorful

Word count (not including title or author's notes): 1781