Pairing(s): Neville/Ginny, with mentions of Neville/Ron and Percy/George
Warning(s): Angst, drinking, infidelity, pegging, mentions of off-screen crossdressing and off-screen incest
Author's Notes: The title is taken directly from the prompt lyrics ('Start A War' by The National), which mostly functioned as a mood setter and were very subtly incorporated into the fic. And by that, I mean you may need a magnifying glass to see it, but the relation is most certainly there, even if the lines are not directly quoted. My love and adoration to uniquepov. for the very fast beta job- you're amazing as always, bb! Equal love and adoration for my recipient (a_shadow_there) who had so many lovely kinks for me to play with, and some prompts that just begged for delicious angst! I hope you like the result!
Neville hesitated several feet back from the bar, frowning as he watched Ron lift a half-empty bottle of whisky to his lips, ignoring the tumbler full of mostly-melted ice in front of him. Ron's throat worked to swallow the dark liquid, his Adam's apple bobbing with several gulps before the bottle was finally replaced to the bar with a dull thud. It crossed his mind to back away toward the door before he was noticed, but the dark look Ron had about him suggested that perhaps it would be better to stay; it would at least give Neville a chance to coax him away from the alcohol before he found himself completely smashed.
"Ron?" he asked uncertainly as he approached. Ron twisted on his stool to look at Neville with already blood-shot eyes, his expression growing darker as he turned away and snatched up his bottle again. Further down the bar, the Muggle bartender eyed Ron with an obvious mix of disgust and concern. Clearing his throat softly, Neville slipped onto the stool beside him and braced his arms against the smooth wood of the bar. "You're looking-"
"Like a bloke?" Ron hissed bitterly. Neville flushed, looking down at his arms where they were folded on the bar. He could feel Ron's gaze on him for a long moment as the silence stretched between them, uncomfortable and tense. Finally, from the corner of his eye, Neville saw Ron place the bottle down with much less force than he'd expected. "I can't do it any more, Neville."
Paling, Neville's attention snapped back to Ron. "Ron-"
"No." Ron's voice was firm as he cut Neville off, his own eyes focused intently on the whisky label as his fingers plucked one corner free from the bottle. "This has gone on long enough now, don't you think?" The darkness in his expression had eased slightly as he fidgeted with the label, but returned as Ron curled his fingers around the neck of the bottle. "We've been kidding ourselves with this, and you know it," he muttered, narrowing his eyes at the whisky as though it were the one responsible. Deliberately, he pressed it to his lips again and took one last, long draw from the bottle, before slamming it down with enough force to rattle the remaining ice in his untouched tumbler.
"It's finished, Neville," Ron continued, pushing himself off his stool and keeping his back to Neville as he rummaged in one pocket of his trousers for the bill-fold he carried during trips into Muggle London. "And it's time you finally told Ginny."
"I can't do that!" Neville snapped, his tone more desperate than angry as he reached out to grasp one of Ron's wrists. "Please, Ron, don't do this. It's been good, hasn't it? What's changed?" With a grunt, Ron jerked himself free from Neville, tossing a handful of five-pound notes carelessly onto the bar beside the now-empty bottle of whisky.
"I won't keep doing this to my sister, Neville." Ron stuffed his bill-fold back into his pocket before finally looking at Neville again, his jaw set firmly in determination. "I'm tired of being her for you, and I won't do it any more." Neville's cheeks burned at the comment, and he reached out for Ron again, only to have his hand sharply slapped away as Ron took a small step back. "Tell Ginny, Neville. Or else, I'll do it for you."
Stunned into silence, Neville could only watch, open-mouthed, as Ron turned and strode out of the pub, the alcohol not far enough through his system to make him stumble.
"'s he alrigh' to make it home?" Neville started at the low growl of a voice beside him and quickly grabbed at the edge of the bar to keep from falling off his stool. Turning toward the source, he found himself looking into the stern face of the bartender. He blinked up at the man in silence for a moment before he finally remembered what he'd been asked and nodded, clearing his throat awkwardly.
"Yeah, he'll be-" Neville trailed off to cast one last look over his shoulder at the doorway of the pub before sighing and shaking his head miserably. "He'll be fine..."
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"I promise, I'll be home as soon as everything's sorted, love," Neville promised his wife on the other side of the Floo connection.
Ginny offered him a slightly disappointed smile, but nodded in understanding, making a shooing gesture with her hands.
"Off with you then. I'll keep dinner under a stasis for you."
Smiling despite the heavy knot of guilt in the pit of his stomach, Neville murmured his thanks and withdrew his head from the fire, watching the green flames on his side of the connection sputter out a moment later.
With a soft sigh, Neville turned toward his desk, willing the sensation of dread that had been with him since his meeting with Ron at the pub to finally abate. He'd been lucky enough to arrive home while Ginny was busy in the loo, and had managed to slip off to their bed and feign sleep by the time she realized he'd returned. She'd woken when he tried to sneak off unnoticed in the morning, but it had been easy enough to explain away as a need to begin tilling out the soil in one of his greenhouses in preparation of replanting what he'd lost to the unexpected frost the week before.
Buying himself more time away from his wife with the day's end drawing closer was a much more difficult task, however. Too many excuses in a row, and Neville knew Ginny would be asking questions; and if she thought to ask them of Ron, rather than himself or one of their other friends, then he would find himself quite thoroughly fucked.
Kicking out the chair from his desk, Neville threw himself heavily into the seat with a sigh. She'd bought into his story of a mix-up with an Apothecary order well enough, and it would buy him at least two more hours to attempt to sort out his approach for breaking the news of his affair to her. After Ron's threat to tell her himself, Neville couldn't risk putting the discussion off much longer, if he wanted any hope of salvaging his marriage- not that he had much hope of it to begin with.
By the time he was left with no other choice but to leave and face his wife, Neville's nerves were in a sorry state. His hands trembled as he gathered a handful of Floo powder and tossed it into his office fireplace. For a long moment, he stood in front of the crackling green flames, shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other, hoping that- sooner or later- a spark of his Gryffindor courage might make itself known and give him the strength to step through to home.
When he finally did find it in himself to call out the address of his home and step through, it was more due to his desire to finally be rid of the weight of his guilt than anything.
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Their house was silent when Neville stepped out into the sitting room. The lights had been dimmed, although not extinguished entirely, and Neville's faint smile over Ginny's thoughtfulness quickly faltered, as he remembered that he was undeserving of the small kindness. Hesitating, Neville squeezed his eyes closed and took a slow, measured breath before making his way through the house in search of Ginny.
He peeked into the kitchen long enough to confirm she wasn't on the lower level of their home, and to tuck his dinner- preserved under the stasis charm Ginny had promised to cast over it- into the icebox. As he made his way up the stairs toward their bedroom, Neville began to worry that she'd already gone to bed, until he turned on the landing and began down the hall. He caught a whiff of one of her perfumes as he passed the loo and froze.
On their first wedding anniversary, he'd brewed and bottled that perfume for her; the faint scent of earth and heather that suited her perfectly. She wore it rarely, and only when she was in a mood to seduce him in her way. Swallowing nervously, Neville crossed the remaining space between himself and the bedroom door, pushing it open and gasping softly in surprise.
"It's about time you made it home," Ginny purred, smiling at Neville with half-lidded eyes. "I was starting to worry I'd gone to all this trouble for nothing." Neville followed the path of Ginny's hand as it trailed slowly down the bare flesh of her stomach, dipping beneath the waistband of her lace knickers. Shaking himself quickly, Neville flushed and awkwardly stepped into the room, looking away from Ginny's face to study his shoes.
"Gin, love, listen-"
"Aren't you planning to join me, Neville?" Ginny asked, dashing her tongue along her lower lip before pulling it between her teeth in an enticing pout. "What's the matter?" she sighed, when Neville continued shuffling awkwardly just inside the doorway. Withdrawing her hand from her knickers, Ginny pushed herself up from the pile of pillows against the headboard, her brow furrowing slightly as she looked Neville over slowly. "Neville?"
"I cheated on you," he blurted tactlessly, his cheeks flaming as he realized what he'd said. Ginny looked at him in stunned silence for a moment before her expression hardened and she pushed herself slowly to the edge of the bed.
"I'm afraid I didn't hear you correctly, love. Would you mind repeating that?" she hissed, her narrowed eyes focused intently on Neville as she stood, folding her arms over her breasts. Unable to meet her eyes, Neville looked down at his shoes as the guilt and shame he'd managed to repress over the past few months surfaced with a vengeance.
"I was having an affair, Ginny," Neville whispered, pausing to take a deep breath to calm his nerves. Squeezing his eyes closed, he added in an even softer voice, "With Ron..."
"Neville, sit down," Ginny snapped, the anger that had edged into her tone mostly disguised by the firmness of it as she pointed to the bed. Raising his head to look at her, Neville opened his mouth to speak and promptly snapped it closed again as he took in the dangerous expression his wife wore. He felt his hands start to tremble as he crossed the room, perching himself uncertainly on the foot of their bed as Ginny positioned herself between him and the bedroom door.
"Explain yourself."
Neville's eyes widened slightly at Ginny's surprisingly calm tone, and he felt a small flicker of hope at the lack of screaming or hexing going on. Meeting her eyes for a moment, Neville found nothing to encourage or discourage the sensation and quickly lowered his gaze to his hands as he began to wring them lightly in his lap.
"It started about three months ago," he started hesitantly, biting his lip as he thought back to that night in the Muggle pub, where he, Ron, and several others had met for drinks to avoid the usual public attention they encountered while at the Three Broomsticks. "I'd been dealing with some... interests for a couple of weeks already, and just never knew how to tell you what I wanted."
"Ron and I had been out drinking with Percy, George, and Seamus for a few hours, and we were all pretty well on the way to rat-arsed by the time Seamus buggered off for home. Percy and George left only a bit after him, pawing at each other the entire way out of the pub. Ron and I watched them go, and the whole scene just... got us talking. He asked how you and I were doing, and I really couldn't help myself, Gin! I was drunk and confused, and I just sort of let all of it out."
"I... I talked him into dressing up like you; I'm not sure how I managed it, but I assume it was the alcohol. But he went along with it, and we wound up getting a room together." Neville's cheeks turned crimson as he spoke, and his voice began to tremble the same way as his hands. "I'd been imagining what it would be like to be fucked like that, and Merlin, Ginny, I just... After that first time, I had a hard time stopping myself, when Ron asked if we could do it again."
"The guilt of it's been tearing me up inside every day, but it felt so good and I've been terrified that I would lose you if I told you about my desires to begin with, let alone if I told you I'd been doing this!" Raising his face, Neville met Ginny's eyes with a desperate expression, feeling tears welling at the corners of his eyes, although he managed to blink them back. "I'm sorry, Ginny..."
"Is it over?" she asked tersely, her face a careful mask of indifference as she looked down at Neville. "Or were you coming clean as a prelude to ending our marriage instead?"
"No!" Neville made a desperate lunge forward, his hands flying out to grasp one of Ginny's, squeezing it and tugging her closer. "No, Ginny! I want you, not him; not anyone else!" He saw the disbelieving flash in Ginny's eyes and let out a strangled whine as he looked down at her hand, still held in his, although she was more just allowing the contact rather than participating in it. "I told you because Ron ended it... Yesterday. I went to our usual pub to meet, and he told me flat out he was done with all of it. He threatened to tell you if I wouldn't, and I just couldn't let you find out that way."
"For all the mistakes I've made with this, I love you, Ginny. You're who I want to be with..."
Ginny's mask faltered as she sighed, pulling her hand away from his and taking a small step back. "I need time to think about this, Neville. I don't know if it's something I can forgive."
Swallowing back the lump that rose in his throat, Neville lowered his eyes and gave Ginny a small nod as she turned her back to him. "I understand," he murmured, just before the bedroom door opened and closed, the soft click of the door latching again more painful to him than an angry slam would have been.
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"Welcome home."
Neville spun on his heel in front of the fireplace in the sitting room, startled by the familiar voice. Ginny had been gone for nearly a week, without sending any sort of word to him to say whether she was leaning toward one decision or another regarding their marriage. His sense of hopelessness had taken over, and it had quickly reached the point that Neville was expecting to receive a petition for divorce by owl before he heard from or saw Ginny again.
Finding her reclining comfortably in one of the chairs in their sitting room sent simultaneous waves of relief and uncertainty washing over him until she finally smiled. Ginny pushed herself to her feet, reaching her hand out toward Neville and taking hold of one of his gently. "I've missed you..."
"I've missed you, too," Neville said in a stunned tone, watching as Ginny stepped closer, pressing her chest against his with her smile still firmly in place. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again," he admitted quietly.
"That first night, I wasn't sure myself whether I'd come back or not," Ginny murmured, bringing her free arm up to wrap around Neville's neck. His arm wrapped loosely around her waist, tightening slowly until Ginny shook her head and stepped away from him, breaking his hold. "But, I may have found a solution of sorts for our little 'problem'."
"What sort of solution?" Neville asked, eyeing his wife uncertainly as her smile gave way to a smirk. Giving his hand a sharp tug, Ginny pulled Neville forward; caught by surprise, he stumbled and found himself being pushed somewhat roughly over one arm of the sofa. He tried to straighten again, but Ginny placed a hand against his shoulders and pushed him back down until he braced his hands against one of the cushions. "Ginny, what are you doing?"
Ignoring his question, Ginny laid herself along Neville's back, slipping her hands between his body and the couch to begin unfastening his trousers. "Why did you always ask Ron to dress like me, Neville?" she asked, her breath washing over Neville's ear and sending a small tremor rippling along his spine. "Was it because you couldn't admit you wanted a bloke," Ginny continued, slipping her fingers into the waistband of Neville's pants and tugging them down over his hips along with his trousers. "Or was it because you wished it was me fucking you?"
Neville shivered again, dropping his head in embarrassment. "I-I wished it was you," he whispered, uncertain where the conversation was going, and at once eager and frightened to know. "Ginny, what-"
"It was very wrong of you to lie to me, Neville," Ginny interrupted, pulling away from him as his pants and trousers slid down to pool around his ankles. Neville nearly tried to straighten again until he heard the zip of Ginny's jeans lowering. "All you had to do was tell me, you know; I wouldn't have thought any less of you."
"I know, but-"
"Hush," Ginny reprimanded, her tone light, but still firm enough to silence him. One of her hands reappeared on Neville's leg, sliding slowly upward toward his arse. "If you ever do something like that again to me, love, there will be no more chances. Is that understood?"
Neville breathed a sigh of relief at Ginny's words as he realized she intended to stay. "Yes, of course, Ginny! Never again," he promised, twisting his head enough to look at her over his shoulder. She met his eyes with a satisfied smile, and he returned it for a moment until his gaze fell lower and his eyes widened.
Her jeans had been kicked off, leaving her in only the blouse she'd worn over, the lower hem brushing against the top band of a leather harness that circled around her waist. Swallowing thickly, Neville lifted his gaze to Ginny's face again, a faint pink tint rising in his cheeks. Ginny's smile widened slightly, and she curled her fingers around the base of the thick 'cock' secured in the centre of the harness.
"Do you like it?" she asked, sliding her hand along the length of the toy, her eyes fixed on Neville's the entire time. Neville nodded wordlessly, his tongue darting out to wet his lips in anticipation as he watched Ginny step up closer behind him. The cool tip of the strap-on, slicked by a muttered lubrication charm, pressed against his entrance, and a shaky moan escaped him as his cock began to harden.
"Please, Ginny," he begged, pressing back against the toy and whining quietly in the back of his throat when Ginny countered the movement by pulling her hips back. "Please, love, don't tease me..."
"Need it that badly, do you?" Ginny teased, taking a firm hold on the base of the strap-on and aligning it with Neville's arse again. When he murmured another plea, she chuckled softly and pressed her hips forward, watching intently as the toy began slipping into him.
"Merlin, Gin, yes," Neville groaned, his hands grasping at the sofa cushion beneath him as he was slowly filled by the large cock. He felt his wife's nails scratch against, and then dig sharply into, his hips in answer as she pulled Neville back against her, thrusting the last inch of the toy into him quickly.
Leaning down over Neville's back, Ginny moulded herself against him, rolling her hips in a slow, steady rhythm. "Tell me how you like it, Neville," she murmured in his ear, reaching between him and the couch to curl her hand around the base of his cock. With a low groan, Neville bucked his hips into her hand desperately.
"H-hard," he admitted unsteadily. "Hard and fast..." Ginny squeezed his cock lightly in approval, sliding her hand along his length in a quick rhythm that she began to match with her hips. Neville moaned beneath her, alternating between thrusting into her hand and pushing himself back onto the toy until Ginny angled her hips slightly.
The tip of the strap-on struck against Neville's prostate, causing his breath to catch sharply in his throat and his body to tense for a brief moment. "Right there?" Ginny asked, realizing what she'd done and repeating the action with a sharper thrust, eliciting a long, drawn out moan from Neville. Turning her face in toward Neville's neck, Ginny smirked and nipped at his throat lightly.
"Come on, love; let me see what you're like when you come like this."
Shivering at her encouragement, Neville ground himself against Ginny's hand as she thrust into him again, adjusting her stance enough to strike his prostate with every thrust. With the toy battering his prostate and her hand curled around his cock, Neville struggled to hold off more than a few moments before his balls tightened and his body tensed again.
Ginny murmured a cleaning charm over both of them when she finally withdrew from him, allowing Neville a moment to come down from his orgasm, still draped somewhat awkwardly over the arm of the sofa. He was vaguely aware of the sounds of her dressing again before one of her hands slapped his arse playfully. "Get up, Nev," she teased gently, offering him a small smile as she helped him to straighten.
His wife plopped down at the opposite end of the couch as Neville straightened his own clothing, her eyes following each movement he made. "Was it... Was it all right?" Neville asked uncertainly, his gaze focused on his trousers as he did up the zip. He dared a glance at Ginny from the corner of his eye and relaxed slightly when he noticed the fond smile turning up her lips.
"It was brilliant, love," she assured him with a small smile. "Although you'll have to return the favour later on tonight." Reaching out one hand for him, Ginny tugged Neville down beside her onto the sofa. "I'm still not fully all right with what you did, but I love you, Neville." Bringing one hand up, Ginny placed her palm lightly against Neville's cheek, smiling at him again before leaning up to kiss him. "As long as you behave yourself, then things will come out all right."