This is my response to day 15 of Siriusly Smart's iPod challenge. It may be a while before I update "Like the Sun" owing to my summer job(s), so I hope that this tides the Nevic lovers over.
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"I'll give you everything,
Just not enough, and never this,"
-Howling Bells, 'Velvet Girl'
It wasn't right.
But it wasn't wrong either; nothing that felt so wonderful could be.
What she had with Professor Neville Longbottom – her professor, not that it would ever cause Victoire to feel a modicum of the grave guilt that shadowed his eyes – wasn't good or bad, as such. It was delicious.
His marriage to Hannah was 'on the rocks', as her father had phrased it last summer in a whispered conversation with her Aunt Ginny. After this revelation, Victoire couldn't help it. She knew that Neville watched her, she was conscious of his gaze burning through her skin, and she knew that a good girl would simply avert her gaze and wait for it to pass. But she wasn't a good girl. She was Victoire Weasley, the most alluring of young women.
It had been easy to draw Neville away from the fast fading light of the setting sun that was Hannah, and on to the brilliance of her own beauty, a sun that rose higher every day and dazzled everyone who looked upon it. Victoire returned his gaze, coy at first, growing bolder as he had become more intense. Once she had upped the game; a hand on his arm as they spoke, a soft sigh when he was nearby. At first it had been a game, a test of her own appeal – having those intense brown eyes following her, knowing that a clever, debonair man, so much more than a gawky boy, wanted her.
But when Neville had first kissed her, Victoire had melted. She didn't have to be the aloof, mysterious person, because she had simply been happy.
"Victoire..." The way Neville whispered her name made Victoire feel as though she was more precious than she could ever have imagined she could be. His eyes were full of adoration and anguish. "We shouldn't be doing this." Neville tilted his head downwards and pressed another smouldering kiss against her mouth.
"I don't ever want you to stop." Victoire looked up at him fiercely. She didn't want to lose his hands on her waist, firm and gentle, and the idea of letting it slip through her fingers left her cold, despite the heated air between them. Victoire hated herself for being vulnerable. "I want this. Don't let me go."
He had kissed her again, and that curious mixture of desire and affection that could – just maybe – be love had become real; so real that he was lying asleep beside her. Victoire stroked his cheek as softly as she could manage, wondering if she could ever be all that Neville, strong and dependable Neville, needed.
She wanted to try, and perhaps that would be enough.
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Thanks for reading. Please review.