I can do this! Neville thought, gritting his teeth and clutching the piece of parchment in his right hand so hard it started to tear. I will do this! As he walked forwards, the knuckles of his left hand, which, lacking anything else to do had clenched into a fist, turned white. When he reached just outside the circumference of the pulsating blue Age Line, a cold bead of sweat dripped down Neville's forehead.
He would do it. He would pass the age line, and it would not reject him because he was pure of heard. He would his enter his name into the goblet. That would get him some recognition at the very least. He would get even more when his name was picked to be the Hogwarts contender in the Triwizard Tournament, and when he won it, nobody would laugh at him anymore, or call him incompetent. And the beautiful half-veela girl he had seen earlier would notice him.. And maybe more.
Fleur Longbottom.. It has a nice ring to it.. Neville thought as he stepped into the circle. His palms sweaty, he raised his right hand up to toss the piece of parchment with his name and school on it into the flames.
Before he could do so, however, said flames rapidly changed color from eerie blue to a deep, dangerous red, and started flickering more dimly. Neville felt a pulse of energy throughout his entire body, and then, without warning, he was forcibly ejected from the circle, and thrown several feet away from it, landing rater painfully and ungracefully on his stomach.
Neville laid there for several minutes, spread-eagle on the ground. He was sincerely glad that he had braved sneaking out of his dorm late at night to enter his name. He didn't want anyone to see him humiliate himself like he had just done. Neville raised a shaking hand to his face, feeling the worst. A bushy beard awaited his touch.
"Damnit.." He muttered quietly, and stood up. The Age Line probably made a mistake. I may not be of age, but age isn't anything but a number, and I am definitely pure enough and competent enough to compete in this tournament! He started forwards again, in another attempt to enter his name, only for the same result to occur. Unrelenting and determined, Neville tried again, and again, until his stomach and knees were covered in small bruises, having been rejected by the Age Line every single time.
Neville felt his face again- Deep set wrinkles had joined the fluffy mass of white hair already there. He groaned inwardly, but at that moment, he was too tired to care, and passed out right on the floor where he was sitting.
In the morning, Neville woke in his Four-Poster bed, aching all over. For a moment, he couldn't remember why, and then, it hit him. He raised his hand to his face again, and much to his chagrin and embarrassment, the wrinkles and beard were still there.
"So, what happened?" Neville jumped. He hadn't realized anyone else was up. Turning to face the redhead next to him, he sighed.
"I-I thought that I would be able to enter into the tournament on account of being pure of heart. I figured that age wasn't anything but a number, so if you know you have the ability to win this tournament, it should at least let you enter. After all, I bet if Granger was allowed to enter, she would do better that most of the seventh years in this school," Neville said. "But.. It didn't work. This-" He gestured to his face." "-Happened."
Ron winced. "The same thing happened to my brothers. Madame Pomferey said that she couldn't do anything for them, and that it just had to wear off on its own. Sorry, Neville."
"It's okay. It's not your fault." Neville's stomach rumbled loudly. "Is-"
"It's breakfast time now, if you want to get something. Everyone else went down already, but I figured someone should stay, and, y'know.." Ron trailed off, and his own stomach rumbled, louder than Neville's. "But I'm hungry too. C'mon, let's go."
"Okay.." Neville got up, and followed the ginger out of their dorm rooms, through the common room, and down the staircase. Every person they came across seemed to stop and stare at him. A pink flush crossed Neville's cheeks, and he cast his eyes downwards.
When they reached the entrance hall, a lovely surprise greeted them. The girls from Beauxbatons were all entering their names, and the way they did so looked almost like a ballet number. Glancing around, Neville's flush deepened when he realized Fleur was at the end of the line- and it looked like she was looking right at him. He quickly dropped his gaze again, but raised it ever so slightly when it was her turn to enter. Neville caught his breath as the graceful blonde girl leaped into the blue ring, and pirouetted on tip toes to deposit the scrap of parchment.
"Wow," Ron said, pretty much summing up everything Neville was thinking at that moment. "Hey- She's walking this way!"
"Where?" Neville's head snapped up, instantly knowing who Ron was referring to when he said "She." With that tone of voice, it could be none other than Fleur Delacour. Neville's heart skipped a beat, the skin beneath his beard and wrinkles turning tomato red, and his palms became sweaty again. Oh no, oh no.. She can't see me like this! She'll never talk to me again! She'll never look at me again!
"Excuse me boy, but may I talk to your friend for a second?" Even her voice was beautiful, graceful like her, and with a dainty French accent.
"Um.. Sure.." Ron said, and walked about 10 feet away, a disappointed look on his face. Neville gulped. She wants to talk to me!
He couldn't meet her eyes. "H-Hi.. Fleur.."
"I saw you last night." Neville's heart dropped into his stomach. He wasn't sure how much of his shock registered on his face, but apparently enough that it was comical. "It's okay. I came over here to tell you that I'm proud of you."
".. W-what?" Neville squeaked, and looked up. Fleur smiled, and giggled.
"I admire that you didn't try to lie to the Goblet. Even though you knew the consequences if you failed, you tried, with nothing to stack the odds in your favor. Even when you did fail, you tried again. You may not have been able to enter, but what you did shows that if you had been picked, you would have been an excellent champion. Trying to enter the tournament underage was a bit of a stupid thing to do-" Neville winced at these words, even though he knew they were true. "-But it was also a very good measure of how good your character is."
And when she kissed him on the forehead, Neville felt the years the aging curse had put on him fade and melt away.
AN: I had to do this. It was one of those ideas that came out of nowhere and pestered me until I did it. And so, here you go. Probably the first ever fanfic for the Fleur/Neville pairing. Not an OTP- it also came at me out of nowhere. :P
Enjoy, R+R, C+C, whatevs. ^^