Author's Note: Hey everyone! I really hope I can stick this story out to the end, as I'm a huge fan of NLPP and as a fan, I decided to write my own to share with all of you! I owe a my firstborn to my beta, Wonderfall, whose stories you should go read. No seriously.
Please review! I'd love to hear what everyone has to say and what you think of my story. Flames are welcome, for we use them to toast marshmallows! Also, there will be smut eventually but I'll be sure to warn you in advance.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters I've kidna- borrowed for my story.
Chapter One: Step One: Quit your Job
Neville Longbottom was not known for his temper. In fact, there were only three instances in which he could ever remember losing it. The first was when he had been told that the infamous Bellatrix LeStrange had escaped from Azkaban. The second was on the day of his graduation from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; when his grandmother had died, she had left everything she owned to Neville, but due to "legal complications" received next to nothing and had not been told until said day. The third instance being right now, standing in the present Headmaster's office in Hogwarts.
"What," he spoke through gritted teeth, "am I supposed to do if I don't have this job, Headmaster?"
Tamberlin Farworthing, current Headmaster of the school, was leaning back in his chair with one of those annoying smirks smeared across his face. "I'm sorry Longbottom..." like hell you are, you slimy git, "but due to our current financial restrictions..." bullshit, "I'm afraid I just can't keep you on as an employee." Both of the men knew why this was happening, though Farworthing would never admit it out loud.
Neville was being fired simply because of his refusal to jump whenever the bastard asked. The man leaned over his desk, a self satisfied gleam in his eye and drawled some backhanded comment about Neville's "successful career as an Herbology expert--" when spots of white flashed across his vision. In one fluid movement, he reached out and almost crushed the bug of a man underneath the huge ornate desk when he flipped it over. Farworthing let out a terrified squeal and scrambled out of the way while papers and desk ornaments rained down.
Neville simply stood in silence for a moment, his back turned to the cowering figure in the corner. Quietly, he said, "I quit," and left, shutting the heavy door a little harder than necessary. An almost cruel smile distorted his features when he heard the soft sound of whimpering and sobbing from the man still inside the office. He gave a resigned sigh and headed towards his office to collect his things.
Just great, what am I going to tell my wife? "Hi honey! Bet you're surprised to see me home so early! Well, there's a perfectly good reason for it; I nearly killed the Headmaster with his own desk! Yep, aren't you glad we spent almost all of the money we had on this dump that hardly turns enough profit to keep it maintained?" Neville sighed and shifted the hefty box on his hip. He took his a final glance back towards the school and stepped off school grounds. And with a loud crack he disapparated.
The Leaky Cauldron was dirty again, looking neglected and poorly lit as usual. Ever since Hannah and Neville had bought the place, they'd figured out that it was impossible to keep clean. Lately however, it had been dirtier than usual due to the ever increasing arguments over absolutely nothing! Nothing! He cringed, remembering the last fight they'd had—then shook his head and started up the stairs. He cursed loudly as his foot went through the third step on the way up, scratching up his ankle. His day was already bad enough as it was, he thought, then growled in frustration as he heard the loud moaning and banging coming from one of the guest rooms upstairs. Apparently, the gods weren't going to give him a break today.
When he reached the landing, he dropped the box he was carrying. His concern for the safety of the contents of his box evaporated; he didn't even note the tinkling sound of breaking glass as something was crushed in the bottom of his box. The door to the first room on the landing was swung wide open and he could see the long blonde braided hair of his wife swinging back and forth as she rode a stranger. Hard. They hadn't even noticed Neville dropping his box or even when he very nearly walked to the foot of the bed.
Say something witty, he thought, say something and then just leave. Unfortunately, as he opened his mouth to speak, the headboard banging against the wall dislodged a large, and rather heavy, piece of the ceiling that promptly fell on top of Neville's head.
"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!" he yelled, hands inspecting his head and eyes briefly watering. Hannah turned and screamed, falling off of the man while clutching the sheet to her exposed body and simultaneously revealing her lover—Colin Creevey, who was also making surprised and horrified noises. Neville felt his heart nearly drop into his stomach. His wife and his best mate... this was like one of those terrible shows his Gran used to watch, where witches posed as disgruntled housewives and had affairs with their husband's brothers or something. The utter betrayal of it rocked him to the very core and he felt the unfamiliar flash of adrenaline-powered rage coursing through his limbs.
"N-Neville! Darling! It isn't what it..." He raised one hand for silence and pinched the bridge of his nose with the other, his body adopting and exhausted posture.
"Hannah," he said tersely, "I swear, if you finish that sentence, I'm not going to be responsible for my actions."
Colin gave a terrified "meep" and scrambled to get father away from his friend's naked wife, practically climbing on top of the headboard. He glowered at the both of them, his silence saying more than he could with words. Colin, misunderstanding Neville's silence for a form of calm acceptance, spoke up.
"Oh," his voice cracked, "I should have known Hannah and I should have stopped this right when it started." A nervous laugh, Hannah shot a desperate look towards her lover, begging him to shut his trap. "See, she told me that you two were, well, separated..."
"Colin, please..." Hannah's voice was strained and terrified, but Creevey didn't notice. "...three months ago, ha ha ha." Neville couldn't see his expression, but he gauged it by the wash of fear and the abrupt end of his choked laughter that came over the man lying in the bed. The next minute, his fist was in the wall, small flecks of the cheap plaster littering his wrist and floor.
He couldn't remember punching the wall, but that's what must have happened. Colin had whispered some meek sounding apology and ran from the room, and Hannah had started crying softly, her face in her hands.
"I'm leaving," he said quietly. She refused to look at him so he simply walked outside of the room and waved his wand, disappearing to the only place he could think of.
The platform nine-and-three-quarters at King's Crossing was very nearly empty, as he had expected it would be. The train was mainly used only by Hogwarts students, but there were a few members of the wizarding world who preferred to travel by locomotive.
He walked to a large mesh-wire bench and sat, holding his head as he rested his elbows on his knees. Neville sat there being silently watched by a witch with a rather over-sized nose until he started to feel uncomfortable, but thankfully she moved away to leave him in his quiet brooding. Weirdoes, he thought.
Neville was unaware of another witch, however. This witch was standing at a minor distance, observing him wordlessly. The problem was, this witch had not seen Neville for two years time. She was hesitant to approach him when he seemed so upset, but couldn't hold back forever.
"Neville?" She walked slowly towards him and spoke softly. Neville stopped staring at his shoes and glanced in the direction the voice called from; then he smiled.
"Ginny?" Her jaw dropped when their eyes met and she got a good look at him; Neville chuckled softly. He'd grown almost a whole foot and a half after his graduation, lost almost all of his boyish chubbiness, and now pretty much towered over his friend. She took jogging steps towards him.
"Oh my god, Nevvy! How are you? It's been ages!" She threw her things down and sat next to him on his bench, smacking him playfully in the arm. He tried to smile for her, make her think everything was alright, but it obviously didn't work. Ginny saw something in his expression and it showed just as plainly on her face as it must have on his.
"Aw jeeze, love," her mouth was pulled down into a sad frown, "You look knackered." He swallowed hard and felt his eyes stinging again. He quickly wondered if there was a spell to get rid of his damned tear ducts.
Ginny was one of his best friends, his very best friend at that moment; she didn't ask him what was wrong. She didn't tell him he should cheer up. Instead, she sat there for a moment, her mouth set in a determined line; then slapped him a little gruffly on his back and stood. Gathering her coat and her purse, she placed a warm hand on his arm and squeezed gently.
"Come on," she set a warm smile on her face, "we're going to go get pissed." He laughed a little and tried to smile back. Then stood up and left the station to go get drunk off his ass. Well, at least his day was starting to look up.
They got to a little bar that he had never heard of, the Blue Cockerel, which was crowded and filled with various witches and wizards that for some reason were all wearing muggle party hats and singing horribly. A wizard near the entrance swiveled suddenly to face the young man, eyeing at him suspiciously and sloshing his drink all over the floor in front of Neville, who jumped back to avoid the liquid.
"You," he slurred, "you goin' back there for the party?" The paper cone slid a little towards the side of the wizard's face. He heard Ginny stifle a giggle behind him.
"Uh, yeah! Yeah, we're here for the party," he looked over his shoulder at the red head and shrugged. She covered her mouth with her hand to quiet another laugh.
"Shokay, that's fine." He smiled jovially at them and waved them through.
Apparently, a wizard named Broxley was celebrating his twenty-seventh birthday and it was an open bar that night. Luckily though, the doorman was the intoxicated and agreeable wizard who had let them pass by. So Ginny and Neville, masquerading as party guests- in which they were not alone, they soon discovered- proceeded to toss back drinks and laugh with the other "guests" that they had found. During the course of the night, he'd wound up mournfully telling his tale to anyone who would listen.
"You know what I think," a pretty blue-haired witch leaned too far forward and almost fell off of her chair, "I think that wife of yours is a total bitch. I mean honestly I'm surprised you didn't jinx the ever living hell out of her." She gave a drunken giggle, and Neville couldn't help but laugh with her even though it was partially due to the near half a bottle of Firewhiskey he'd drank playing "Toad chasers." Ginny, who was not nearly as intoxicated as her poor friend, was keeping a close eye on him—she pulled him away from the drunken girl as Neville had suddenly leaned in to kiss her.
"Oi, what's your problem Gin?" He turned on her, an angry frown across his face. She tried to keep from snapping back at him and instead led him outside. He grabbed the half-empty bottle of alcohol as she dragged him out into the alley.
"Look, Nev," she helped steady him, "it's late and you're incredibly drunk; I think it's time for you to head... with me to the Burrow." she stopped herself from saying "home" and quickly replaced it. Neville whined and suddenly dropped the bottle on a pile of snow. He looked at Ginny, his eyes glazed and quickly pinned her against the wall.
"I'd rather go home with you," he said, slurring his words together. Ginny slapped him soundly across the face and laughed out loud. He giggled and fell on his rump. "Yes, I'm drunk, take me home please now." She helped him to his feet and walked with him for a while in the cold.
He looked over slyly at her a few minutes before she would apparate somewhere for him to sleep and said, "But you know, that witch back there had really nice tits." She punched him in the arm again and they vanished.
I'm secretly in love with an alligator named Frances.
Okay! That's the end of Chapter One. I'll update the second part as soon as I finish! ~squeek