For the big sis/lil sis comp with the prompts: pairing – Neville/Hannah, word – insignificant, phrase – the last time, color – colorless, genre – romance.

Thanks to my cousin and Amber who helped with this fic.

Notes: this is a Mafia!universe AU and Muggle!AU.

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You slide your stick back and forth, feeling the ground beneath your feet with acute awareness. You hear the sounds of life passing you loudly, so real, so passionate, but the only sound of your life isdull, colorless.

Your stick hits something solid and you stop quickly so that you don't bump into anything. Your balance is thrown off, causing you to stumble. Before you can fall, a pair of hands holds your forearms, steadying you.

"Easy there!" a voice says. It's deep and soothing, and you don't know why it causes you to smile. You turn your head towards the sound of his voice.

You feel a hand on you back – warm and familiar – as you try to say something to the man in front of you. "Please excuse her," your mother says. "See, she's blind."

You frown. You hate how your mother announces it. She says it as if it's a disease, a problem; but it's not, not to you. Just because you can't see doesn't mean that it's an issue. You can walk and talk and smile, and that's all that really matters.

"Are you alright?" he questions.

By the direction of his voice, you can tell he's talking to you. "Yes, I'm fine. I'm sorry," you tell him.

"Don't worry about it," he assures you. There's a pause. For half a moment, you wish that you can see what is going on. But you realize that it doesn't matter when he continues to speak. "Would you like to get something to drink sometime?"

Before you get a chance to respond, your mother answers, "Absolutely not."

Without moving your head, you start to protest. "Mother!" You can tell by the grip on your arm that your mother isn't happy that you are questioning her decision. But his voice sounds so gentle and it makes you feel safe; you don't want to give that up.

"Hannah," she hisses near your ear, even though, with your heightened hearing, you can hear her loud and clear. She leans up. "I'm sorry, young man, but I'm afraid that she cannot. Now, we need to get going. Let's go, Hannah."

You raise your left hand, waving goodbye to him, as your mother pulls you away. All you really want is to stay and talk with him – the boy that makes you feel safe without trying.

You're sitting in your bedroom, listening to soft, classical music. It's one of the only things that your mother allows you to do. She treats you so very delicately and it frustrates you. You are not as fragile as she believes you to be.

You hear the ringing of the telephone. You pick up your walking stick from beside your bed and make your way towards the ringing as quickly as you can. Running your hand along the dresser, you feel for the phone. Once you have that in your hand, it takes you a few moments to answer it. "Yes," you say.

"Hello? Is Hannah there?"

Several moments pass before you recognize the deep, soothing voice. "You are the person that I ran into while shopping the other day, the one that asked me for a drink." You pause. "Wait! How'd you get my number?"

He laughs lightly and you feel warmth spread through your body. "There are only so many people in the city, and a very little portion of them are blind. It wasn't very hard to track you down after knowing that."

"You went through all this trouble just to find me," you reply, slightly astounded. You didn't expect him to track you down.

"I wanted that drink with you," he says easily. "I got this feeling that you wanted to but that woman didn't want you to."

You sigh. "That was my mother. She thinks that just because I'm blind that I can't do anything," you inform him. You pause before continuing, "But how do you expect me to have a drink with you if I don't even know your name?"

You hear the smile in his voice as he replies, "I'm Neville. Neville Longbottom."

"Well, Mr. Longbottom, I would love to grab a drink with you."

"Where do you live? I'll come by and pick you up tomorrow at three, if you'd like," he says. His voice is soft and gentle.

You can't keep the smile off your face as you tell him your address. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Where are you going?"

You turn towards the door of your bedroom. Your mother is standing there. By the sound of her voice, you can tell that her arms are crossed over chest and she's angry. Picking up your walking stick, you feel your way towards her.

"I'm going to have a drink with Neville. Remember that guy that we ran into last time we were shopping?" you remind her. "He invited me and I accepted."

"Absolutely not. I told you that when he first asked," she says. "How did he even manage to ask you again?"

You fold your arms. "Mother! I'm nineteen and you're treating me like a child. He just wants to have a drink. It's harmless."

"You don't know what he is like. You just spoke with him once, Hannah. Be smart. I'm just trying to protect you," she tells you.

You smile softly. In these moments, you know that she really is trying to protect you, but it's overwhelming. She doesn't allow you to learn on your own and that's what you really need. "I know, mother. I may not be able to see faces, but I can judge him by what I can see. Please, let me do this. Let me figure out whether or not to trust him."

Several moments pass before you hear her moves toward you. "Very well," she agrees. "But if you are planning on going out, you need to change. You don't match at all."

Your smile broadens. "Thank you!"

There's a knock at the door and you rush to open it. Before you have a chance to, your mother's footsteps sound behind you. "What have I told you about opening the door?" she questions you. You mumble your apologies as she opens the door. "Hello."

"Hello," the person greets politely, and you recognize it as Neville's. "I'm looking for Hannah."

You grin broadly and step towards them. "I'm here," you announce.

"May I enquire about where you are going?" your mother asks. "And how long you intend to be gone?"

"There's a small café not too far from here. I thought it would be nice to walk to. And just an hour or two," Neville says smoothly. "I can have her back anytime you would like, Mrs –" he breaks off.

There's a small pause. "Have her back before dark," your mother replies finally. "And it's Abbott: Sarah Abbott."

You hear a small agreement, and a shuffle of feet. There's a hand on your arm, and a strong scent of grass and trees fills your nose. "Are you ready to go?" he asks you softly. You nod. You feel his hand move to grip your hand.

He leads you out the door and down the street. It takes the two of you a little while to make it to the café due to your rather slow pace, but he doesn't seem to mind. He chats about the weather and describes the scenery to you on the way there. You don't really talk, just listening to his calming voice.

He stops. "We're here," he announces as he pushes open the door, holding it for you. You sweep your walking stick back and forth for the first time during the walk to ensure that you don't walk into the door, not that you think he would allow you to anyways. The first thing you notice is the almost overwhelming smell of tea and coffee, an odd combination.

He appears behind you and, with a soft touch to your back, leads you to the counter. He whispers the options in your ear and waits for you to decide. "Just tea, please," you request.

"Two cups of tea," he orders. You hear him pull out his wallet and pay. Two cup scrap loudly across the counter, which he picks up. He leads you towards a table. You hear the sound of the cup meeting the table as you sit down.

"Thank you," you say. Before you have a chance to feel around for your cup, his hand touches yours, guiding it to the cup. You glance up, even though you don't know where he's standing. "So tell me about yourself."

He laughs; it's a low sound that makes you smile. "Well, you see," he starts to say, but he breaks off. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to say that," he informs you apologetically.

You laugh, waving it off. "I've had worse, believe me. And while I don't, in fact, see, doesn't mean that I'm overly sentimental about blind jokes. Now that we have that out of the way, please do continue."

You hear a sigh of relief. "Well," he starts, "I'm an only child. My grandmother raised me since I was young. I don't actually remember my parents. But I heard that my dad was a Detective and my mum was a Police Officer, and that they were two great people. I like to believe that they were great people, anyways."

"What do you do for a living?" you ask, leaning forward.

"I'm a Detective. It made my grandmother proud of me," he whispers. "After disappointing her my whole life, it was a good feeling to know that I had actually made her proud. She told me that I was just like my father."

You bite your lip. "Is that why you became a Detective? To make your grandmother proud?"

You hear him shake his head. "No," he answers shortly. "I did it because I always enjoyed the puzzle, the excitement. Making her proud was only a plus of doing what I do." There's a small pause. "What about you?"

"My father and younger brother died when I was young. A fire consumed my house while my mum and I were out. According to what I was told, they couldn't make it out in time. Ever since then, my mother has been more protective of me than before," you answer after a few moments.

"What about your…" he trails off.

You laugh, realizing that he can't bring himself to announce your condition. "My blindness?" you question. "I was born with it. My mother was protective of me because of it, but it worsened after the fire."

Your tea has been long as you talk about your home life; you talk about your schooling; you talk about everything you can think of. You can't help but think that you enjoy spending time with him, that you are soothed by the sound of his voice. He sounds like safety and you have never experienced that before.

"Man," he says suddenly, interrupting your story. "I have to get you home. The sun is setting." You hear the panic in his voice as he scrambles to stand. He touches your hand, allowing you to stand so he can lead you home.

On the front steps of your house, you smile. "I had a wonderful time," you whisper.

"I'm glad," he replies. "Maybe we can do this again sometime."

It's supposed to sound smooth, but his tone is unsure, and you know it's because he's nervous. "I'd like that," you inform him.

You hear him take a step forward and you inhale sharply. He presses his lips against your cheek. When he pulls away, he murmurs, "Great. I'll call you."

You stand there, frozen, with your hand against your warm cheek, listening to him walk away. When you can't hear his footsteps any longer, you feel for the door handle, letting yourself into the house.

You hang up the phone from making plans to see Neville again. You have been spending a lot of time with Neville lately, trying to figure out where this thing between you is going.

You turn on your bed, feeling the buttons of the phone, dialing your mother's friend's number. After the second ring, a person on the other end picks it up. "Hannah?" the voice asks.

"Mum," you reply. "I just wanted to let you know that Neville's going to come by to pick me up. He wants to go out for dinner." There's a silence on her end of the phone, causing you to ask, "Mum?"

"I guess," she says. "But please be careful."

You laugh. "I always am. I should be back –" you break off, hearing the sound of the house door handle rattle.

"Back by when?" she asks, urging you to continue. When you don't answer, too busy trying to listen for footsteps, she says, "Hannah? Talk to me!"

"Someone's breaking into the house," you breathe into the phone, silencing your mother's frantic voice. "I can hear footsteps downstairs." Your mother breathes harshly into the phone and you both know that you are incapable of hiding yourself without being heard. "Mum," you whisper. "What do I do? I'm scared."

"It's alright. We're calling the police now. They'll be there shortly. Just stay where you are," she tells you comforting. "But whatever you do, don't hang up the phone," she commands you.

You make a sound of agreement, too afraid of saying a word. You stay still, trying to even your breathing from the harsh pants. You hear the footsteps coming up the hall, getting closer to your door. Inhaling sharply, you hold your breath, praying that whoever is in your house doesn't come in.

The door handle jingles and you know that they are coming for you. The door flies open, and you can't help but let out a screech of fear. Before the phone is pulled away, you hear your mother yell, "HANNAH!"

"Isn't that sweet?" a woman's voice asks. It's a cruel, horrible sound that sends waves of fear down your spine. But that's the last thing you hear before you feel something hit your head, hard.

Your head throbs painfully as you come to your senses. The smells around you are unfamiliar and you can't identify the sounds that you hear. You shiver.

"You're awake, I see," the woman says. Her tone still sends fear down your back.

"Why are you doing this?" you ask, struggling to sit up.

You feel a cold hand against your shoulder, forcing you back down. "Why?" she repeats. Then she laughs. It's a high-pitched one and you don't like it. Everything about this woman frightens you. "Because it seems that your little boyfriend doesn't know when to back away. You might be able to convince him to stop."

"I don't know who you are talking about," you say. "And even if I did, why would I help you?"

She laughs again. "What do you take me for? A fool?" she asks. "I know that you and he are very close. You will help me because you have no other choice."

You hear her move from in front of you and press buttons. There's a pause before you hear her say, "My, my. That isn't anyway to answer the phone."

You can't hear his side of the conversation, even with your heightened hearing. But whatever he replies with, she says, "This is what happens when you get to close. I would tell you to ask your parents, but…well, I made it so that you couldn't, that no one could."

"I know that you would never stop coming after the Organization. You are a fool like your parents. But I have something of yours that might just change your mind," she says, and you can hear the smirk in her voice.

"Your girlfriend, Hannah, of course," she replies easily. After a pause, she says, "She's nothing to you? I think Hannah here would beg to disagree. She's been telling me how much you care about her."

She crosses the room, her footsteps tapping loudly against the floor. Something is pressed against your ear. "Hannah?" a familiar voice asks. You suddenly feel safe, as if everything around you is insignificant. "Are you alright?"

You make a noise of agreement, but somehow it sounds like, "Neville."

"It's going to be okay. I'm going to find you, alright?"

You have no time to say anything else to him before the phone is pulled from your ear. "If you stop your investigation, Hannah will be safely returned. Otherwise…I can't make any promises," she informs him. She leans down, stroking your cheek. "After all, I do love causing pain."

You shudder, knowing that this woman is would follow through with a threat.

The door shuts and you stand immediately. You have to get out of there. You make your way across the room slowly, trying your hardest not to bump into anything. Once your hand touches the door, you feel for the door knob. You yank it open, and feel your way out of the place.

It takes you a while because you are without your walking stick. And you stop every so often to make sure that you aren't going to bump into the woman holding you hostage. But once you open the door that you believe is the front door, you feel wind on your face.

You take the time to shut the door before you start towards the road. You feel the gravel beneath your bare feet and the lack of sunshine against your cheeks lets you know that it's night.

Allowing your hearing sense to take over, listening to the sounds of life going on around you. The last time you did this, you thought that your entire world was colorless, but now you know that your life, your world is colorful and Neville taught you that. And now, you listen for the sounds of rainbow cars and beautiful people. Once you hear that, you start walking towards the life.

You don't know how long you walked. All you know is that your feet are hurting you and your mouth is dry. You want someone to find you, but then again, you don't because you don't want the woman's friends to find you.

After a while, you feel a hand on your shoulder, stopping you from walking. You try to walk anyways. "Calm down! The police will be here soon," the person says.

Before you prevent yourself, you collapse.

When you regain consciousness, your senses work in overtime, trying to figure out where you are. Your breathing quickens in fear. Then there is a hand on your arm, causing you to flinch. "It's alright, Hannah. I'm here," your mother says.

You relax at the familiar touch. "Where am I?" you ask, your voice rough.

"The hospital. You were taken here after you collapsed," she replies. She strokes your hair comfortingly. You lean into the touch.

There's a knock on the door. "Is she awake?" a male asks at the door. You instantly recognize it as Neville's.

Knowing that your mother would want to send him away, you speak, "I'm awake." You turn towards your mother. "Can you give us some time alone?"

You hear him cross the room as your mother leaves and he takes your hand in his. He guides your hand to his face, allowing you to trace his features. You can feel his fear and worry etched into his skin. "Oh God, Hannah. This is all my fault. I'm so sorry," he tells you.

"She didn't hurt me," you assure him. "But this isn't your fault. Please don't blame yourself. You couldn't have known that those people would come after me to get to you."

He moves from your reach, and you hear him pacing the length of the floor. "That's the thing. I did know. I knew what they were capable of. The woman who took you hostage is a part of a group called the Organization, though some call them Death Eaters for their ruthlessness. They are the same group that murdered my parents when I was a baby."

You start to say something, but he cuts across you, "And I've been getting close to taking down the entire Organization. But now, that will never happen."

"Why?" you ask.

He moves back towards you, taking your hands in his own. "Because of you. I won't risk losing the woman I love for revenge. You are more important than that."

You want to protest. You want to tell him that he deserves revenge after everything that happened. But just knowing that he would give up anything for you makes your heart swell with happiness. So you just find yourself saying, "I love you too."

When he kisses you, you swear that you see the world with your eyes. And it's so colorful with love, passion and life.

A/n – so many thanks to Laura for glancing over this for m