This fic was written for The Multi-Ship Challenge by Elizabeth Blossom on HPFC. The prompt was Neville/Ron and 'armchair.'
thank my lucky stars
Most people would judge him severely for this attraction — of that, he was sure. It really couldn't be helped, though. In spite of how hard he tried to ignore it, to fight it, to just make it go away…. It was all for naught.
Ron Weasley was obnoxious. He was loud. He was boisterous. He was quick to judge. He had a temper like no other. Yet, he still drew Neville to him like moth to flame.
Too bad the reverse couldn't be said.
Ron hardly spared Neville a glance unless he was once again fumbling a potion and causing an explosion or falling to his near-death from a broom or tripping over his own two feet on the staircase. Neville just wasn't that interesting. He was plain. Or maybe worse than plain – he had never been quite sure on that fact.
As most stories go, however, Neville wasn't so plain. He had redeeming qualities that even he was unaware of. He thought himself to have no magical talent… but, unsurprisingly, that wasn't entirely true.
Neville did not find this out until his sixth year at Hogwarts.
Finding himself rather unable to sleep one evening, he had ambled down the boys' staircase at what he thought was an ungodly hour (surprisingly managing not to trip, even though sleep blurred his eyes).
What he found was not an unusual sight in itself, but for whatever reason, he found himself looking at it with new eyes. The majority of The Golden Trio was once again up until who-knows-what-hour.
Hermione and Ron were sitting in overstuffed armchairs at a table in the corner, pouring over books. With an exasperated sigh, Hermione finally dropped the book in her hands (which was a shocking sight, truth be told). She then looked to Ron with an apologetic gaze.
"Ron, I have to get some sleep. We have an assessment in History of Magic tomorrow and I need to be well-rested. You'll have to continue on your own," she said, pushing back her chair to stand and beginning to shuffle towards her designated staircase.
When she saw Neville, she gave him a small wave in greeting. It showed how truly tired she was that she did not question him on why he was up so late. She really was a mother hen; so much so that he had grown to expect it.
Neville found his way down the few remaining stairs, allowing him a full view of Ron. The other was bent over a book resting on the table, hands gripping his hair in what appeared to be frustration. Neville found himself curious as to what could cause the redhead such distress.
"Hey, Ron," he began quietly, slipping into the seat Hermione had neglected to push in. "Is everything alright?"
Ron didn't even flinch at the intrusion, instead letting out a long sigh and finally letting his head fall onto the table. He mumbled something Neville couldn't decipher into the book.
"What was that?" Neville asked, bending down to the other boy's level.
Ron lifted his head slightly and repeated, "Herbology is trying to kill me."
Neville's eyebrows rose at the obvious exaggeration. He found it hard to comprehend how anyone could find the subject of Herbology difficult, how anyone could find the subject of Herbology as something uninteresting. He shook his head slowly, staring at the redhead in bewilderment.
But then he had an idea.
Sleep would definitely be evading him for the rest of the night. And Ron seemed determined to finish this assignment so…
"Maybe I could help?" he suggested tentatively.
Ron raised his head once again and furrowed his brow, gazing at Neville rather bemusedly.
Neville continued, gaining more confidence with each word.
"I'm actually rather good at Herbology. It's my favorite subject so it comes more easily to me than Potions… or basically any other class."
He paused, chuckling awkwardly as the joke at his own expense fell a bit flat.
Perhaps it was the lack of sleep or the strenuous brain activity, but Ron only nodded acceptingly and pushed his book toward Neville so he could look on. He didn't make any rude remarks, only explaining the parts of the assignment he was having trouble with. He didn't even stare in wonder when Neville solved the problem – one that he and Hermione had been slaving over for hours – in a handful of short minutes.
He did, however, thank Neville profusely. He was so thankful that his body seemed to gain a mind of its own as he lunged himself across the table to hug Neville around the shoulders in gratitude, practically crying in relief. He really needed to sleep.
Without bothering to move his books, Ron simply grabbed Neville's hand and pulled his savior back to the dorms.
Neville merely smiled at their interlocked hands, reveled in the warmth, and thanked his lucky stars that he wasn't so plain after all.