Titanium
Author's notes: So, here is Neville's chapter! One that some of you have been waiting for this chapter for quite some time. I have a bit of a question though, should I leave Nev in feline form for a while and have sweet baby Nev change later on, or should I change him into a human right away? Hm, I shall ponder this; send a review stating which you think would be best! I really want you lot involved with where this story goes! But if I come up with a magical plot bunny, I'll go with that. I also think I scared some people when I said huge time jump, when I say huge I really only mean a few days/weeks. Thanks for your reviews, and thanks for reading! Hugs and kisses. –CJG
Warning: Homosexual relationships, dark themes, violence, language, and angst. If you don't like, please don't read.
Chapter Eleven: A Battle for an Angel
Characters: Neville Longbottom. Location: Mirkwood
There was a frightening crack when their bodies met. The alpha had been stunned awkwardly at the sudden attack from Neville, but it hadn't held him back for long. There was fear in the air, from the last surviving Elf, to the pack that stood around nipping to go and aid their alpha. It was a horrifying thing to view, a golden creature clawing and snapping hatefully in attempt to hit the jugular on the creature that was at least twice the size of his own large form. And that was saying something, Neville's Animagus was a good two times the size of a normal male African lion that one would stumble across in the Savanna, and even larger than one you would stumble across in a domestic location. His fangs were violently large, and seemed like they were made specifically for honing in on the jugular. If this beast wouldn't have been so large, it would have been dead within the first moments of battle.
They rolled, switching from top to bottom, Neville raining down blow after blow on the obviously ungraceful creature. Clacks of teeth, snaps of bones, snarls and growls, and the horrid ripping of flesh seemed to be of the only sounds that were echoing deep in the forest. Neville wasn't holding back, not this time. No sometimes even during the last battle people tended to attempt giving Neville a fighting chance, but if they could see the King of Lions now, they would be running for the hills.
He felt the creature's legs connect with his stomach, sending him flying back slightly. He collected himself, circling the beast with measured pads. Every few seconds his eyes darted to the Elf on the ground that honestly looked as though he would faint at any second. Hopefully he didn't, Neville couldn't handle his self-elected charge passing out from fright. I'd make for one hell of an explanation later, one he didn't want to make any time soon.
Neville, through an awkward bought of inter monologue decided enough was enough. He needed to end this, and he needed to be victorious with style and grace. He circled so he was standing in a protective manner over the prize. He stood over that prize that he would soon claim as, in his hopeful mind, a friend. With a sudden movement he found himself jumping forward a few paces, slamming his forepaws onto the ground, and letting out a bone shaking, heart stuttering roar directly in the face of the alpha creature.
He watched as a fearful expression came across the creature's face, he hissed as he collected himself on his back paws and launched forward, again making bone shattering contact with the shocked beast. With the unsuspecting creature beneath him he took advantage, knowing that even under the lighter weight of Neville the creature was trapped. He dove in straight for the junction of the neck that contained the jugular and snapped his jaw on the vessel.
If he would have been in his human form, the splattered black blood that dyed his fangs as it coated his mouth would have been sickening to the point of making him vomit. In this form, the feeling he was getting was nothing but victory and satisfaction. He felt the creature bucking wildly under his paws, the felt the flesh part under his teeth and jaw, and he felt the bone that was in the creature's neck snap when the lion jerked his head with the clear intent of doing just that. He felt the life leave the alpha with every drop of blood, and he felt the body slowly start to fade of fight and fear. Only when Neville knew that the creature was too far gone, did he release the now limp creature from his grasp and watched as it fell dead in the grass.
The victory obviously had shocked everyone in the odd meadow except Neville, who had been hoping and praying to not only Merlin, but Godric, and Morgana for victory. He slowly turned to face the pack, which had been standing to watch, obviously hesitating, even if they knew they should gain revenge for their alpha. A horrible rumbling snarl obviously told them that if they ran, they would live, and the lot of them did just that. He moved slowly, his attention fully on the creature that was lying on the ground. He sat staring at Neville with a look that held both fear and awe.
The golden lion when to take a step toward the Elf that lay on the ground. He was displeased to see that panic had taken over and the creature had started to scramble back until it noticed that Neville had frozen mid step. The lion's eyes bore into the Elf's, holding such unbridled passion and power that he could see the Elf visibly shudder from the feeling. With slow movements he drew the paw back under his shoulders and slowly shifted back onto his haunches. He ignored any pain he should have felt from the few scratches and wounds that the other alpha had inflicted on his body.
He slowly slipped down so his large body was lying fully on the ground, collected underneath joint and bone. He found himself watching the Elf with all of his attention as he slowly licked his paws clean. Now after the battle taking the time to view the Elf that he had rescued. He took in everything from the top of the Elf's head, to the toes of his boots, obviously both sizing him up, and checking him out. Neville felt the pull to this creature, and he didn't mind one bit, though he wasn't exactly sure why.
The color of the Elf's hair reminded him of the Malfoy's shade of cream, thought it was much thicker, and held a sweet straight sheen that they had to work to achieve. Even dusty from his obvious fall from a horse it was clean, and held a pure shine that not even Draco's hair held after hours of treatment. The top part of his hair was gathered and braided in a thin braid, obviously symbolizing great power to the male's culture. His face was gentle, yet it held a maturity that only came with age. The slight line of tear tracks skidded through dirt on his face, showed a pale flawless skin. His jaw structure was strong, but it seemed to fit in a lovely manner on his gentle features. His bright pale aqua eyes stared helplessly back into Neville's hazel, seeming to match in the most perfect way. His long graceful brows were furrowed in confusion, as if he had expected Neville to eat him.
Nev found himself to be suddenly very shy in the light of this Elf's glory. His jaw dropped slightly as he brought a deep lungful of air into his system, taking in the rich earthy scent of the elf. Without even thinking he cast a wordless, and wandless, language charm in hopes that if the creature did begin to speak he would be able to understand. He was feeling so utterly shy that he didn't even want to shift back, for fear that not only would he be mocked, but that he would be belittled in the grace of the male before him.
He slowly pulled himself up so he was standing, he watched as the male tensed for a moment, before seeing that Neville wasn't about to leap forward and attack. Neville's natural instinct was to make a rumbling cooing noise, one that a mother would make to calm a cub. His rounded ears hidden in his mane perked forward, and his tough facial expression seemed to drop, showing an odd innocence that the Elf didn't seem to understand. The cooing keen that came from Neville's throat seemed to be working, for this time when he moved to take a few steps forward the Elf didn't even more, nor did he flinch away. He simply seemed curious, mirroring the exact same expression that Neville had, except in a much more dignified way. Neville's head was hanging rather low compared to how it normally hung, since he was so tall, it was to show slight dominance, yet show he meant the Elf no harm.
The Elf, obviously in attempt to please the large cat, stretched his hand out in Neville's direction. The long delicate digits were beautiful, carefully crafted fingers. They were strong, but graceful, much like a piano player's fingers. Without even thinking, Neville leaned forward and carefully butted the hand with his forehead. He found himself dragging his skull upward to allow the Elf's fingers to fall deeply (not intended on the Elf's part at first), into his thick mane of chocolate brown and golden hue. He couldn't help the catlike smile that crossed his face when the Elf started rubbing his fingers in a gentle circular motion behind his large ears.
Moving in a slow motion he gently lowered his nose into the junction of where the Elf's neck met his shoulder and let out a few puffs of air. The Elf flinched away at first, but when Neville moved his head closer he didn't move.
"Do not fear me, Elfling." Neville's voice took a raspy dark chocolate tone when he spoke into the male's mind. "No harm will fall to you under my watch."
The Elf sat frozen after that. Mostly out of fear at first, that was until Neville started purring like a house cat and butting his nose gently against the Elf's jaw. He continued to scent the creature. Breathing in each scent that flowed over the creature, he smelled of spice, of leafs that haunted the forest, of fresh flowers during the spring, of honey, and of a deep rich scent that even Neville couldn't place.
A twig snapped behind Neville, causing his head to snap around and a slight hiss to escape his lips. He looked to the elf before taking a few steps back so the creature could stand. When the creature didn't stand, Neville made a noise of distress and butted his head against the male's leg. Clearly stating it was time to move, they had lingered far too long.
The Elf stood quickly, reaching for his bow, his swords, and his quiver that had fallen away when he had tumbled from his stead.
"Come, we are close to Mirkwood, great King of the forest." The Elf's panicked trill set a primal instinct aflame deep in Neville's chest. With a huff he nodded, standing almost the equal height of a horse to the inhuman Elf. With a quick movement they were sprinting off through the forest. The elf had a slight limp, but Neville wasn't much better in the walking department. They both ignored the licks of pain in hope of making it to safety.
Before the forest of Mirkwood could strike again.
A/N: So, I'm really happy with this chapter! I don't even really know why, but it just felt really good to write. I love writing anything to do with a wizard in Animagus form, and it's so lovely to write a character such as Neville in that aspect. Thanks to those who added this story to story alerts, and to your favorites list! Thanks for the tons of reviews that came in for chapter nine and ten! And thank you to those who will review in the future. I'm going to be cutting this bottom A/Ns for the most part. I feel like it takes up too much space. Thanks you guys, I love my loyal ones so very much! – CJG