The thing about chocolate, Neville decided, was that in itself, more especially as a gift; choosing correctlywas an art form.
First, it was the decision of whether or not one should actually buy the sweet in the first place. Neville knew as well as the next wizard that when it came to women and their chocolate, it was one thing that no man could come between. It was a love that between two others, no one had come close to comparing to. But, it was also a little devil, for the opposite end of the relationship felt that chocolate was always cheating with them. That while it lulled her with sweet promises, it also apparently wrecked havoc their bodies. So in giving a woman a piece of chocolate, was Neville being supportive of the affair the girl would have it, or was he simply -excuse the verb- feeding the hate that was to arise between the two? The cause of a dilemma, or the saviour of love?
Then, once a man was to decide on the appropriateness of such a gift, it was then to pick out the kind that was best suited to the taste. Was he to buy a rich sort of goodness, or would that seem too bold of a statement? Did getting a handful of chocolate creams make him seem cheap or relaxed? Was a middle amount safe, or did it make him look boring?
All such questions, were to be asked.
Few of them to be answered.
Neville, as he strolled the small shop asked the questions to himself in turn, but rarely did he come to any sort of conclusion.
He liked the shallow questions though.
He liked that there were no answers.
He liked the superficiality of this evening. He felt no connection towards it. He figured there was a small chance of getting hurt. But Neville, although not always great with odds, liked the chance of getting out with minimal scarring.
The scars got tiring after a while.
The rain still soaked him down.
Neville walked on. He kept flying.
Turning his back to the chocolate display, Neville was about to leave the shop when he saw what he was looking for, just up front by the cashier. It seemed too perfect to be true- he had found the right chocolate. (Philosophical point: If such a thing exists)
Neville grinned. It felt like a small, tiny victory from many lost fights.
The bar seemed too busy.
He wasn't sure if a bar could be such, especially since their business seemed to revolve around too many people. Their product sold to those who needed to leave the crowd.
Neville felt a little like he belonged here. Especially with the drunken easiness that washed away sharp edges and shook off even the most stubborn bits of rain at the door.
No one even looked at him twice- sitting alone. The only thing they seemed to ponder was why he had a full glass of fire whiskey in front of him. If ever was there a thing to be questioned at a bar, it was why a person in itwasn't drinking.
Neville shrugged away the stares. He didn't really have a decent answer. He just didn't really want to feel numbness tonight. He felt something.
And something was something.
Sighing, he looked towards an old wizard attempting to sit upright on the stool he was leaning off of. Every time he attempted to fix himself up, he slipped off to the left.
It was kind of funny.
But Neville didn't laugh.
He knew the feeling of falling and not being able to fix himself up right.
"Ooooo, Neville! So sorry to keep you waiting! You wouldn't believehow long it took to find the right shoes."
Neville looked up.
Romilda looked down at him, and grinned a grin of perfect teeth.
Neville didn't grin back. He smiled. But only in that 'you see, while you're happy to be here, I'm not entirely sure yet. I've just recently felt something at all. That is an improvement. Let's just see what else I can do in one night, okay?' sort of way.
Romilda grinned like she understood.
Neville knew she didn't.
But also knew what was expected of him. He raised himself from the chair that had held countless others had fallen into. It creaked as he did. The chair, Neville thought silently, must be tired from such long nights alone, and such evenings being squatted upon. Chairs were severely underappreciated.
He then quickly slid the companion chair from across the oval sitting table and waited for Romilda Vane to sit right angled in it, spine straight, and robes flowing innocently towards the beaten floor. He then made his way back to his own.
Neville sat back down. His chair sighed a creaked thank you, then went about it's business of straining gravity.
"Anywho, so, likeI was saying; no amount of Acciowould summonthe right shoes! It was horrid! So, eventually, I just said, -to myself- 'Romilda, you're wasting time! We all know how simply busy Neville Longbottom must be. What with him being a war hero and all.' And of course, I simply had to agree with myself!" Romilda giggled as her pampered, manicured hands tapped his of a much less pristine nature.
Neville was busy.
Well, he probably should have been.
Only the rain kept stopping him.
The weighed down the world.
It stopped the beats of purpose and froze all meaning.
Life stopped living. Rain kept falling.
And girls like Romilda didn't notice.
As long as it was not their shoes who had died.
"Deary me,where aremy manners!" Romilda leaned in closer and clenched on to Neville's filthy hands. Hers got whiter in the knuckles. The strain for such a small action seemed so little. She lowered her voice, which every seemed to do when speaking of death. As if death wouldn't hear them. "I am so terriblysorry to hear about your Grandmother. Nearly broke my heart. Such a shame. I simply wishI had to gotten to know her more. And you- you oh I can onlyimagine. A shame, a shame." Her sympathetic pats made the rain come back.
A shame. Pat. A shame. Pat.
Continuously.
Neville felt empty again.
Shame. Pat. Shame.
Pat. Pat. Pat.
Neville cleared his throat. The patting stopped.
He felt nothing.
"I believe," he said. Empty meaning filled his voice. Funny how even meaning can become empty if you try hard enough. "I believe that it's time to order a drink, for you of course." He smiled again. The smile's eyes now said 'I'm broken. Don't try.'
She grinned. The grin said 'I don't understand. But I am pretty.'
The grin was Romilda.
Neville got up to get the drinks. Rain weighed him down.
I like writing this. I might update sporadically and frequently :D
But yeah. Hannah'll come in soon. JUST WAIT (:
Also- depressing play lists can really get you into a character's mood. REVIEW3
