When The Stars Go Blue
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, or Harry Potter. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.
Chapter Five:
"You're right," Neville declares, and drops into the empty chair beside Beth's, "He's a hoof wanking plonker."
"A what?" Puck asks, bewildered. It's not the first time slang and insults have been lost in translation - both ways - and Beth doubts it will be the last. "And who?"
"Why do you say that?" Beth queries.
In Welsh, Neville explains how he and Schue have just witnessed one of Mr Schuester's Glee Club brats - Berry, or something - get slushied, and how in the aftermath, Schuester did absolutely nothing but insist that the girl get cleaned up.
The revelation leaves a bad taste in Beths' mouth, and she scowls.
"In saying that, I'm sorry I questioned your judgement," Neville continues in English.
Beth's smirks. "That was really hard for you to say, wasn't it?"
He palms her face lightly, rolls his eyes, and withdraws his lunch from his bag. It's an impressive amount of leftovers from their dinner the night prior - spaghetti bolognese - and without ado, he eats it cold.
Beth nibbles at a piece of her sliced apple, and wishes she could eat some, too. Unfortunately, Coach Sylvester has them on an absurdly strict diet, and although Beth completely disregards it outside of school hours, she's not quite prepared to challenge her coach's authority on the older woman's turf.
Puck is still perplexed by their initial exchange. There are a few others who sit with them who are, as well.
"Who and what is a hoof wanking plonker?"
"That will be Mr Schuester," Beth answers. She explains the meaning behind the insults, Puck laughs, agrees wholeheartedly, and asks about the language Neville spoke.
It's not something they flaunt, but both of them - Neville and Beth - are multi-lingual. It's born as a result of their respective family magics, and although Beth doesn't pretend to understand how it is possible, she now knows every language any past Head of House has been fluent in, and Welsh is only one in a long list of them.
Incidentally, Welsh is also her ancestors' native tongue, back when her forbearers had carried the name 'Peverell'. Neville's family's native language is Cornish, and sometimes, their arguments become a multi-lingual exchange of insults and accusations that often make one or both of them laugh, or cry, or a disorganised range of things in between.
"It's Welsh," Neville explains, twists a few strings of spaghetti around his fork, and eats it slowly.
"Welsh?" Finn Hudson echoes.
"As in Wales," Neville clarifies, and he speaks to Finn Hudson like the quarterback is an idiot. Beth is is almost certain he is, but she doesn't admit that.
"Does that mean you can speak to whales?" Brittany asks, and she wonders what Brittany is, if Finn Hudson's an idiot.
"No, Brit," Beth answers, "I can't speak to whales."
"Are you sure? Have you ever tried?"
Beth falters. "I… no, I haven't. I guess it's possible, Brit, but I've never seen a whale to try."
She is reminded, painfully, of Luna in this instance, prepared to believe that anything is possible, and eternally optimistic besides. It makes Beth miss her airy friend all over again, and she excuses herself quickly, before she can burst into tears.
After he gathers up their things, Neville follows, catches up to her in the hallway, and accompanies her to the auditorium in silence.
They will not be disturbed there.
They seat themselves on the piano bench, and Neville plays mindlessly. Neville prefers the guitar, but he's had piano lessons since his fingers were able to reach the four keys on either side of middle C, and it is obvious. He doesn't falter, doesn't fumble, and when he begins the piano introduction to Vanessa Carlton's 'A Thousand Miles', all Beth can do is offer him a sad, wet laugh.
"Will you sing for me?" He requests.
"Only if you do, too," she bargains, her queue arrives, and Beth begins to sing.
She is not a soprano, as Vanessa Carlton is. Instead, she is a trained, throaty contralto. She is Amy Whinehouse before the drugs, Stevie Nicks after them, Adele Atkins at 16, and Neville is the only one alive who knows it.
"Making my way down town
Walking fast, faces pass
And I'm homebound…"
Neville swallows, inhales, and continues where she left off.
"Staring blankly ahead
Just making my way, making my way
Through the crowd…
They alternate the chorus, and the rest of the song as well. Neville is a baritone, almost as trained as Beth herself, but he lacks Beth's emotional dependence on music.
Beth still hasn't decided whether or not he's the lucky one, in that regard.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Neville asks, when the song is done. The lyrics are poignant, of course, the song carefully chosen, and he knows her too well.
"What's there to talk about?" She parries, "I miss them like crazy. I hate myself for falling into that trap, they're all dead, and we're never going to see them again."
"Older and wiser people have been tricked by Tom Riddle," Neville quotes, and Beth glares. He is, of course, unfazed. "Don't look at me like that, Elizabeth. You know it's true, and you cannot hold yourself to a standard higher than everyone else without expecting other people to do the same." Beth grimaces, but she doesn't have an answer for him.
"Are you going to sulk all day, then?"
"No," she answers, and she sounds tired, "Brittany just caught me off guard."
"You and me both," Neville agrees. He bows his head, and traces his fingertips along the ivory keys.
As he does, it occurs to Beth that he's not coping as well as it seems, and she feels awful for not noticing it sooner. She wears this boy's ring on her finger, and yet, she's too lost in her own pain to realise that he is suffering, too.
What kind of selfish, oblivious beast does that make her?
Beth isn't sure, but before she can dwell on it further, the school bell sounds, and European History beckons. She and Neville go begrudgingly, but while Neville attentively takes notes, Beth occupies herself with the lyrics and melody that bounce around in her head, determined to break free. She's written few songs in the past, awkward, uninspired pieces that she is inevitably embarrassed by later.
As she finishes the lyrics and the bare bones of an accompanying melody, however, Beth decides it's probably the best effort she's made since her first sojourn into song-writing, and she is pleased by the thought.
She only hopes that Neville will be pleased by the result. The song is written with him in mind, after all.
She wonders if she'll ever play it for him.
-!- -#-
Chapter Six:
Beth spends her study hall copying Neville's notes for History. He's endlessly fascinated by the mundane side of the European Union, and thus his notes are excessively detailed. That said, he's spared some time to create doodles in the margins of his notebook, and she also occupies herself with laughing over the blue ink caricatures of Professor Snape, Mr Schuester, and Coach Sylvester.
"Gods, these are great," she declares.
Neville shrugs, his cheeks stained pink. He's come a long way from the shy, timid boy she'd known at 11, but nothing gets him more flustered than compliments at his expense. He's not accustomed to them, something she can easily relate to, but he deserves such praise for more than just his drawing. He possesses a green thumb like she's never seen, he's a wonderful musician, a talented wizard and an even better man, and she loves him for more things than she could ever say.
"They're nothing special," he insists, "I just got bored when Mr Richmond was rambling about the advent of penicillin. What were you doing, anyway?"
"I wrote a song," she answers proudly, "I mean, the start of one, anyway."
"Are you going to show me?"
"Not until I'm done," she determines, and the thought that she'll actually perform it makes her inexplicably anxious, "That won't be for a while."
"Whenever you're ready," he answers, picks up his mechanical pencil, and begins to struggle his way through his Trigonometry homework. Beth herself is in an Algebra class, but even if she did understand the maths behind sine, cosign, and tangent, Neville wouldn't accept her help.
He's too proud for that.
Beth returns to the notes she's copying, hums along to Fleetwood Mac filtering through her headphones, and loses track of time as it passes them by. Before she knows it, the last bell has blared, students are filtering out of the library, and it's the end of yet another day of school.
"We need to go grocery shopping," Neville recalls. He's slumped against the locker beside Beth's, and his gaze is on the rapidly emptying hallway. "We're out of bread and milk."
They'er out of tampons and condoms, too, and a mess of other things as well, and Beth grimaces at the thought of a lengthy grocery run. She's almost tempted to send Neville to do it on his own, but he's not the most confident of drivers (yet), and she's not about to make him uncomfortable because of her own issues with that kind of attention.
Not when Neville's lack of confidence behind the wheel could get him hurt - or worse.
"I need to stop and get petrol as well."
Neville nods his acknowledgement, his curious gaze on the short brunette that approaches them.
She's even shorter than Luna was, with big brown eyes and a megawatt smile. She wears argyle stockings, and a plaid mini skirt, her name is Rachel Berry, and she's the Cheerios favourite target for 'slushie facials'.
"May we help you?" Beth queries, not unkindly. She shuts her locker, shoulders her Cheerios duffel and messenger bag, and awaits an answer.
"I wanted to inform you both that you are very talented musicians," Rachel tells them, "If you are interested, Glee Club is always looking for new members. Your talents would be appreciated there."
Beth tilts her head curiously, and admits, "I haven't thought about joining, in all honesty. I'm not fond of Mr Schuester."
"I'm inclined to believe that none of the current members of Glee hold any sort of fondness for our coach," Rachel admits, "Nevertheless, the offer remains an open one. I hope to see you both there."
She flounces off then, Beth and Neville watch her go, and shortly thereafter, they follow her footsteps out of the school. Beth's car, a nondescript navigator, waits in the parking lot, and as she lifts herself into the driver's seat, Neville deposits their bags into the boot. He settles himself in the passenger's seat when he's done, tinkers with the radio until the Eagles filters through her speakers, and slumps into his seat as Beth pulls out of the lot.
It's going to be a long afternoon.
-!- -#-
It's Neville's turn to cook dinner, and although he's not as accustomed to the task as Beth is, he's competent enough to whip up a decent beef stir fry. As he does, Beth keeps herself busy with the laundry that's accumulated throughout the week, and all the while, CNN reports on news from across the globe. She's not sure why she watches it, since it all just makes her miserable, but Beth supposes she's always been something of a glutton for punishment.
Masochist, thy name is Elizabeth.
"Dinner's ready," Neville announces.
Beth deposits one of her bras into the growing pile of them, meanders her way into the kitchen, and drops into her usual stool at the kitchen island. Neville joins her shortly thereafter, two glasses of water in hand, and they tuck into their meal in an easy, companionable silence.
It's broken by Neville.
"What did you think about what that bird - Berry? - had to say?"
Beth shrugs. She's not actually thought about it at all, but as she mindlessly chews on a strip of beef, she takes the opportunity to actually do so.
"I really don't like Mr Schuester," she says, "I'd rather avoid spending more time with the man. I won't lie though; I'd really enjoy performing in a group like that. What do you think?"
Neville shrugs. "I don't really care. I'll join if you do, but I won't be fussed if you don't, either."
Beth sips at her water, and replies, "I guess I'll think about it."
Neville nods his acknowledgement, and dinner passes. They speak of inconsequential things - like classes, and homework - before the subject of bills is raised. It's not a concern, really, since they each have access to their respective inheritances, but the novelty of actually having to pay bills is still a new one.
"Your phone bill needs to be paid," Neville informs her, "Everything else has been taken care of."
"What account did you use?"
"The joint account for everything but my phone bill," Neville replies, "That money came from mine."
Their joint account is one they'd opened with the National Bank of America, wherein they each deposit six hundred dollars a fortnight via automatic transfer. It goes towards bills and groceries and such things, with the exception being their respective mobile phone bills. It guarantees that neither of them are dependent on each other for money, and thus far, it is a system that works well for them both.
"I'll do that tonight then," she acknowledges, finishes up the last of her dinner, and proceeds with the clean up. Neville retreats into the living room, picks up the TV remote, and flicks through the channels until it plays an old rerun of 'Scrubs'. He has adapted well to mundane technology, and these days, Beth is fairly certain he watches more shows than she does.
He is sometimes flummoxed by other things, of course - like the microwave - but for the most part, Neville has impressed her by how quickly he has settled into mundane life, and she only hopes that there are no setbacks in the days to come.
When she's finished cleaning the kitchen, Beth joins Neville in the living room, considers the pile of laundry that is yet to be folded, and opts to leave it for the weekend.
"Have to start homework soon," Neville grumbles, his arm slung over her shoulders. Beth hums her agreement, her knees against her chest, and on screen, JD gets his appendix removed. "I don't want to."
"If we could only ever get what we wanted," she sighs.
"The world would be a really different place, eh?"
She hums again, reluctantly clambers to her feet, and trudges her way into the dining room. She drops into one of the dining chairs, produces her English things from her bag, and starts studying before she can talk herself out of it.
The sooner she starts, the sooner she can be done.
As she tries to decipher Shakespeare's English, however, and as neville squints his way through his Chemistry homework, it's hard to remain motivated. She ploughs on regardless, and eventually, everything that needs doing is done, her phone bill has been paid, and the rest of her night is free.
It's enough to bring a pleased smile to her face, but as she approaches their old upright, the expression falters. Her thoughts travel to Rachel Berry, and to the Glee Club, and she wonders.
Is the opportunity to perform the way she once loved worth the time she would have to spend with Mr Schuester?
Her fingers dance along the ivory keys as she mulls over the question, and eventually, she finds an answer.
Yes, it would be worth every arduous minute.
-!- -#-
Chapter Seven:
The first football game of the season falls on that Friday, and the school is abuzz with it. No one expects William McKinley's Titans to win, but as Finn Hudson tries to justify his sudden membership in Mr Schuester's Glee Club, and as Coach Sylvester barks at the Cheerios through her megaphone all day long, Beth finds herself excited, too.
She's dressed in her Cheerios uniform, she's twined a red ribbon in her hair, and there's a black '30' painted onto her cheek.
Predictably, they lose, but Neville has contributed to the points they had earned, and so they decide to celebrate anyway.
"Breadsticks?" He suggests.
"Sure," Beth agrees, "Seems like everyone else will be there though."
He shrugs indifferently, and they make the drive with Green Day filtering through Beth's speakers.
'Breadsticks' is not the finest restaurant they've ever been to. The food is cheap and the quality average at best, but they're surrounded by their peers, and a good time is had regardless.
"Brittany's hosting a party at her place," Celeste, an 11th grade Cheerio, informs them, "You two should come by. It'll be fun."
They agree with only a moment's hesitation, which eventually finds them both in Brittany's dining room, Beth in Neville's lap, and a group of their classmates playing beer pong behind them.
"We should go home," Beth mumbles, distracted by Neville's lips along the column of her throat.
"Neither of you are sober," Quinn Fabray interjects. She's seated beside them, a bottle of water in hand, "You're not going anywhere."
"Such a buzz kill, Fabray," Neville laughs, tugs Beth's hair from it's ponytail, and twines his fingers through her sable tresses, "Gods, Bethy, you're beautiful."
Beth cards her hands through Neville's short hair, lightly scratches her nails along his scalp, and smiles fondly. "You're rather handsome yourself, Bear."
'Bear' is a petname coined after they discovered his patronus was - and continues to be - a grizzly bear. She teases Neville that it's because he loves cuddles almost as much as Beth does, but he's not fooled, and neither was anyone else.
They'd all insisted it was cute though, and the DA had heckled Neville about it for weeks.
The memory brings a nostalgic smile to her face, but she's quickly brought from her reverie by Puck and Brittany, who loudly celebrate their victory in their most recent round of beer pong.
Beth absently claps for them both.
In truth, neither she nor Neville are particularly intoxicated. Neville's had a couple of beers, Beth a pre-mixed vodka cruiser, and they've both been drinking far stronger since the age of 14, since the Goblet of Fire, and since things had been irrevocably changed.
"I'm not going to facilitate drunk driving, or sex with dubious consent," Quinn answers, and her tone is heated.
"And that's admirable of you," Beth acknowledges. She turns around on Neville's lap, slumps against his chest, and thoughtlessly observes the beer pong table. "But you don't need to worry. Neville and I have had three drinks between us, and neither of our inhibitions are in question. Nevertheless, for your own piece of mind, we'll stick around for a while longer. Our bed will still be there in a couple of hours."
Quinn Fabray confuses her. Sometimes, she's a caustic bitch, other times, she's sweet, and Beth has given up attempting to make sense of it. She doesn't like those who feel it necessary to wear masks, and although it sort of feels as though she and Neville are surrounded by such individuals, it's most obvious with the head cheerleader.
"Where's Hudson?" Neville asks.
"He had something to do for Glee," Quinn answers. Through her icy vernier, Beth can almost make out the desolation in her pale green gaze, and it's easy to forget that Quinn Fabray is only 16 years old. The same as them, of course, but she hasn't had to grow up in the shadow of death and destruction, or with the knowledge that their parents gave their lives (and minds) for the sake of children cursed before they were born. She seems to have grown up too fast anyway.
"He'd pass up a party for a club he doesn't even want to be in?" Neville asks, skeptical.
Quinn shrugs, but her expression is bleak, and Neville doesn't pry further. Beth herself doesn't know what to say, and so she says nothing at all, and instead watches as Dave Karofsky and an unknown, buxom redhead fail spectacularly at beer pong. Puck and Brittany trounce them, Beth cheers them on as they do so, and Neville entertains himself with Beth's neck, with her waist and thighs and hips and arms, and it's a wonder Quinn hasn't walked away yet.
They are almost indecent the way Beth leans against him, the way his hands roam and the way she lets them, the way he whispers in her ears and suckles on what skin he can reach. She wants to go home, to love Neville in the bed they share, but there's something almost thrilling about the public nature of their present display, and Beth can't bring herself to stop it.
Santana does for them when she strolls in like she owns the place, drops into the available seat beside them (that isn't taken up by Quinn, of course), and then stares at them as though they are the most interesting things she's ever seen.
That's when Beth gets uncomfortable, and Neville does too.
"I wondered if you were as frigid as you seemed," Santana says.
"I guess you'll never truly know, Lopez," Beth answers. Neville glares, unimpressed, and Santana wears a pleased smirk. She likes to rile people up, it seems, and moreover, she's actually good at it.
It's aggravating, and most of the time, Beth just wants to slap that stupid smirk off her stupid face.
How can people stand this bitch?
"How disappointing," Santana purrs. She trails a taloned fingertip along Neville's bicep, Neville wrenches his arm away with a glare, and pulls himself and Beth to their feet.
"I think it's time to go, Beth."
"Sure," Beth concedes, wraps an arm around Neville's middle, and offers Quinn an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Blondie. This party's just gotten a little too trashy for our taste. I'll see you on Monday."
They make their way out of the house, bidding farewell to their respective team members as they go. As Beth clambers into the driver's seat and ignites the engine, however, it occurs to her that she's probably as malicious as Santana, and as much of a faker as Quinn.
The thought leaves her hollow.
-!- -#-
Chapter Eight:
The weekend passes uneventfully. They learn a song for their Glee Club audition, but otherwise, Neville spends his (early) mornings in their yard, mowing the lawn and tending to the plants there.
Beth herself catches up on the laundry, but afterwards, their weekend is their own, and the respite is still a novelty. At Hogwarts, they'd had the DA, and the variety of extra-curricular activities they'd each participated in. There had always been homework to do (or to put off), there had always been a detention to sit, or a study group to tutor, or an assessment piece to stress over. There had been lawyers to visit, account managers to parlay with, enemies to subdue.
It is often hard to believe that they are finally free. Voldemort is dead, they are emancipated, and the world before them is their oyster.
Eventually, Monday rolls around, and with it, their audition (that isn't really an audition) for Mr Schuester's Glee Club.
Apparently, he's called them the 'New Directions', and everyone is welcome.
She wonders if anyone's told Mr Schuester about the amount of flack they'll receive for such a stupid name.
"Whenever you're ready," Mr Schuester tells them. They're in the auditorium, and in the front row of cushioned seats, the club's six members watch them with a variety of expressions. Rachel Berry is almost manic in her excitement, Kurt Hummel and Mercedes Jones are plainly hostile, and Finn Hudson is puzzled. The other two, freshman Beth doesn't know, are simply wary, and Beth supposes she can't blame them.
Their uniforms - Neville's letterman jacket, and Beth's Cheerios sweats - are a symbol of bullying, of degradation and ostracism that leaves Beth ashamed to be a cheerleader, and unable to meet the gazes of her fellows' victims.
She hasn't asked Neville if he feels the same, but she doesn't need to. They both know what it is like to be on the receiving end of such treatment, and more often than not, Neville can only bow his head in shame.
She wonders when self-preservation became their new anthem.
With a quiet exhale, Neville tunes the strings of his acoustic guitar. He's only played for a few years, but he's decent, and he enjoys it. It helped passed the time in the dorms during those quieter, less hectic lower years at Hogwarts, and according to Neville, he'll always be grateful to Seamus Finnigan for teaching him.
"You ready?" She asks.
"Always, luv," he answers.
He begins the introduction to Stevie Nicks and Don Henley's 'Leather and Lace', and when her queue arrives, Beth sings.
"Is love so fragile, and the heart so hollow
Shatter with words, impossible to follow
You're saying I'm fragile, I try not to be
I search only for something I can't see…"
By the second verse, she's caught their attention, and they listen raptly. Neville harmonises during the chorus, and by the time he takes up the third verse, their audience is smiling.
Neville offers Beth a small, private smile of his own.
"You in the moonlight, with your sleepy eyes
Could you ever love a man like me?
And you were right, when I walked into your house
I knew I'd never want to leave…"
Neville finishes his solo, and Beth joins him in another repeat of the chorus, their voices overlapping in a way they'd practise over and over again.
"Lovers forever, face to face
My city your mountains, stay with me stay
I need you to love me, I need you today
Give to me your leather, take from me my lace…"
They finish out the coda to a round of applause, Neville packs away his guitar, and they join the New Directions in the orchestra pit.
"That was lovely," Mr Schuester compliments them. "Welcome to the club."
"Thanks," Neville answers for them. He drops into a chair near Finn, Beth sits beside him, and he eyes the others curiously. Eventually, he addresses the two freshmen. "I don't know you. What are your names?"
"I'm Artie. This is Tina."
Artie is in a wheelchair, dressed in a vest and tie, with glasses and an old-fashioned combover. Tina, alternatively, is dressed in layered tank tops, with a black tutu over a pair of black and white leggings. She wears combat boots on her feet and blue streaks in her hair, and she doesn't say a word.
"People around here call me Frankie," Neville says, "This is Beth."
"Is it true you're engaged?" Kurt Hummel queries. He eyes the ring on Beth's left hand with a critical glare, and Beth refrains from hiding it.
"Yes," Beth confirms, "Since July."
"Why?" Mercedes asks.
"Because it was inevitable," Neville answers vaguely. It confuses them, but neither she nor Neville are inclined to explain, and thus they stonewall the questions that follow. As they do, Mr Schuester wears a concerned frown on his face, but he doesn't say a word.
"Alright, stop harassing them," Finn intercedes, and Beth is sardonically impressed that he knows how to use the word 'harassing' in a sentence, "It's none of your business."
"Right," Mr Schuester contributes, "Thank you, Finn. Now, about the assembly…"
-!- -#-
Beth can't say she's particularly surprised when, during their last period study hall, she and Neville are called to the guidance counsellor's office. The woman's name is Emma Pillsbury, a redheaded, doe-eyed lady with a severe case of OCD, and an apparent concern for their choices in life.
She's apparently infatuated with Mr Schuester, and although the man is married, he does nothing to curb the woman's affections. He also, apparently, talks to her about his glee clubbers.
Beth would probably be irritated if she hadn't been expecting such a summons since their first day at William McKinley High.
"It wasn't a decision we made lightly," Neville begins, as patient as he's ever been. "And with all due respect, Ms Pillsbury, you are not aware of all the facts. Suffice to say, we are not nearly as impulsive as we may seem."
They don't mention the contract that binds their houses together. In the mundane world, such arrangements have been out of favour (if not illegal) for decades, and it would be rather awkward to explain the existence of a magically binding, loophole free betrothal contract between the Ancient and Most Noble Houses of Potter and Longbottom, signed in blood by their respective (paternal) grandfathers, and absolutely, irrevocably inescapable.
She's known about it since she was 11, Neville has too, and they've long since decided to make the most of it.
They're just fortunate to have found love along the way.
Ms Pillsbury addresses Beth. "And you are of the same mindset?"
Beth nods, offers Neville a tender smile, and answers, "Without a doubt."