Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Note: Some of the characters do partake in some alcoholic beverages but remember that they are of age. Please do not read on if it offends you.
Chapter 3: Sloppy Sundays
Augusta Longbottom wasn't feeling very forgiving as she entered her kitchen the next morning. Her snoring grandson was drooling on her table again. He reeked of garbage and a men's dirty loo. She had half a mind to fill a bucket with water and find a bar of vanilla scented soap and give him a good scrub.
Instead, Augusta did the next best thing. She accio'd two large frying pans and whacked them together with a big grin, right next to Neville's head.
Neville jumped in his seat, covering his ringing ears and glared at his Gran, wondering if he should take out his wand and teach her a lesson. He didn't actually know if he had his wand and he didn't actually remember why he was sleeping in the kitchen for the second day in a row.
The rancid smell of expired meat was making him nauseous and he swallowed down the bile that was rising in his otherwise dry mouth.
"Urgh…" he groaned painfully. His eyes were red, his head throbbed and he looked like he had tumbled around in garbage all night.
"Enough," Augusta demanded. She shuffled over to the sink and filled a glass with water and then shuffled back to Neville in her orange nightdress that was making him think of food making him feel worse. "You'd think you'd be used to a hangover by now. All well Neville, you'll have to make do. We're all out of hangover potion. Maybe it'll teach you a lesson," she chirped, handing him the water.
Neville didn't say anything. He drank the water greedily and then rubbed his temples, shutting his eyes tightly, cursing whoever thought creating the sun was a good idea. He wanted to hole up in a dark corner of a room and sleep for the next century or so and not be woken up by his loud Gran who kept scolding him.
"W-what happened?" he croaked. His voice was dry, his lips were cracked and after several pokes from Augusta, he opened his eyes and glared at her as menacingly as he could.
"You got drunk Neville. Again. After you promised me you would stop drinking. You're an alcoholic Neville!" she shouted. He cringed and sullenly stared at her. Had he really promised that? "To think," she cried dramatically, throwing her arms in the air, "I raised an alcoholic. After that disastrous scene last night, that poor girl will never want to see you again. I suppose I'll just have to live with the fact that I'll never have any great-grandchildren to dote on. I suppose it's for the best. You'd probably give them your alcoholism…" She trailed off and walked over to the cabinets on the other side of the room, opening them and removing silver bowls loudly.
Neville watched her with confusion as she lazily swished her wand around, eggs floating to her. "I am not an alcoholic," he growled, "and what do you mean 'that poor girl,' what poor girl?"
Augusta hummed to herself as she cracked four eggs and started to whisk them in the silver bowl quickly. "You know that girl, the one that you're always pining over. Should have seen the horrified look on her face. Should have seen the horrified look on my face!" she chuckled at the memory. Neville groaned, his Gran chuckling was not a good sign. "Having to open the door to your drunk grandson and his barmaid, poor girl works in that awful place. It isn't a place for a young woman, that's for sure. In my day, respectable young women didn't willingly work around drunken men. Tom aught to be ashamed of himself."
Neville groaned. She was talking too fast for him to completely comprehend what she was saying. "Merlin, tell me I didn't go to a muggle strip…," he blushed as Augusta's eyes popped open from shock at the word strip. "I mean…I…." Neville laughed nervously and didn't say anything.
"What are you saying Neville? Have you been meeting ladies of the night?"
Neville scoffed. The less she knew the better. "I mean—"
Augusta glared at him but took her anger out on the bowl of eggs she was whisking feverishly. "What would your parents say? I know what they would say, Augusta, Augusta," she tutted, "what went wrong? You were supposed to take care of our son," she shook her head and tiredly placed the bowl down. "I should have shipped you off long ago Neville…you can't get into trouble as a seaman…"
Neville ignored her comment. "Gran, what girl…Tom," he tried to place the name but couldn't remember talking to anyone named Tom last night. "Tom who?"
"You know," she said, waving her hand at him, trying to dismiss the conversation, "Tom."
It didn't explain anything to Neville who kept trying to connect the blurry dots in his head. "No, I don't know…" he grumbled.
Augusta turned on the stove while muttering under her breath. Neville ignored her and told himself he had better take a shower. He smelled awful as if he had been rolling around in dragon dung again. He lazily got out of his chair, his insides shaking as eggs started to sizzle on the frying pan and the smell of them cooking wafted to his nose.
Food was not his friend at the moment. His body ached as he stood up and then slowly walked to the loo. He opened the door and then shut it behind him, wincing at the loud sound. The loo was thankfully much darker than the kitchen with just a small little window that barely let any rays of sun into the light blue room.
Neville quickly turned the water on, waiting for the steam to build as he peeled off yesterdays clothing. The smell of his shirt made him wince and as his trousers fell to the floor the hot water called out for him. His body shuddered as he stepped into the tub and the hot water soaked him.
He rubbed his face and sighed in content and then jumped.
Tom. Barmaid. Alcohol.
He quickly started to connect the dots. "Gran!" he shouted from the shower.
Oh no, oh no, oh no…
Augusta chuckled from the kitchen and shouted back at him. "Yes Neville, that Tom! Make sure you scrub behind your ears!"
Neville obliged and quickly scrubbed behind his ears as he shakily started to piece together what had happened last night. He reached for a bar of vanilla soap and quickly cleaned his body. He couldn't believe what he was remembering and hurriedly washed the soap off of him and then turned the water off, grabbing a fluffy pink towel and running down to the kitchen with it wrapped around his waist.
"No Gran, no…what…how the…what did she…"
Augusta chuckled as she scooped some fluffy scrambled eggs onto a plate and walked over to the rickety wooden table and placed the plate down for her grandson to eat.
"Oh well, let's see if my memory is any good today. I think my favorite part was when you sloppily kissed her," Neville gaped at Augusta with his mouth wide open and a hand to his head, "or when you admitted you liked her and…"
"Just stop it," he commanded, shakily taking a seat. "Don't go on. I don't want to hear anymore."
"Serves you right," she said. "Will you please get dressed? You go around gallivanting like some sort of stud, that's right Neville I said stud. I read those articles in the Prophet about those men out there. You all should be ashamed of yourself."
He didn't know what she was talking about but the smell of the cooked eggs was making him sick and he really didn't want her to lecture him on what was wrong with his life. Augusta poked her grandson towards his room and waited outside the door as Neville tried to get dressed.
"Why don't we have a hangover potion?" he moaned from the other side of the door. Inside his room (which was thankfully very dark because Neville would not have been able to handle any light whatsoever at this moment) he stumbled about and stubbed his toe, trying to search for some clean clothing.
"Because you are an alcoholic and I have half a mind to contact someone to help you. If only Gildeory Lockhart hadn't lost his mind. He was always a smart and good looking man…someone to look up to…his teeth were very…"
Neville stopped listening to the old woman outside his door and struggled to put on a pair of black trousers and a green t-shirt. He quickly shoved a pair of old socks on his feet and then hopped about as he put on his trainers. Thankfully, he found his wand on his bedside table and pocketed it.
"Gran," he shouted. "I'm off."
The door swung open and Augusta stared at him with displeasure.
"Where do you think you're going off to with bloodshot eyes and without a proper breakfast? Don't you work Neville? Yes, the last time I checked you do. Aurors…in my day," she rambled on as Neville searched for his cloak. "Augusta Longbottom raised a proper grandson. Not someone who looks like they're on some stuff…are you on stuff, Neville?" she asked, eyeing him. "I read all about that stuff. I bet it's the Weasley boy. Always had a bad feeling about him."
Neville rolled his eyes as he found his cloak and started to put one arm through it. "I need to apologize to Hannah," he explained, "and I need to murder Ron."
"I knew it was the Weasley boy!" she shouted triumphantly. "Molly will hear words from me. She thinks because she has a tribe of children she's mother of the year…well, I'll show her—"
"Gran, I need a plan," he said exasperatedly. Augusta followed him as he quickly rushed out of his bedroom and walked down the corridor towards the bathroom. She watched as he picked up his toothbrush and started to vigorously brush his teeth.
"We'll write her an angry letter. Don't forget to brush those gums and that tongue! Merlin only knows where it's been."
Neville spit into the sink. "A letter is what got me into this mess in the first place!" he shouted. He threw the toothbrush down and then hugged his grandmother.
"Neville, where are you going? At least bring them a pie or some cookies and feed Trevor!" Neville ignored her cries and vanished with a loud crack in front of her eyes. "Neville! I have to do everything around here," she grumbled to herself. "Expects me to write a letter, cook and clean, take care of the toad. Disrespectful…never would have passed in my day…too soft on them at Hogwarts…"
-x-
Seconds later, Neville found himself in the woods behind Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley's house. He knew since it was Sunday that Ron would be lounging around and pestering his poor sister.
"Where is he!" Neville yelled, opening the gate to the backyard and running towards the table that Harry was currently sitting near. Harry smiled brightly at Neville and waved.
"Neville?" Ginny questioned across from him. She had her legs resting on Harry's lap as he rubbed her feet. "What are you doing here so early? Harry didn't tell me you were coming to help set up."
Neville awkwardly glanced at Ginny. Hermione wasn't much of a problem. He didn't care about yelling in front of her or losing his cool. Ginny was different. Ginny was the only girl that would go with Neville to the Yule Ball. Ginny was the girl he had a crush on even though he knew she had liked Harry all those years. She had a special place in his heart so he averted his eyes from hers and stared at the dirt underneath him.
"Err…"
Ginny pouted and dropped her legs from Harry. They planted firmly on the ground and she got up, hands on her hips. "Don't tell me you forgot what today is? Of course you did because why would anyone care—"
Neville sighed and cut her off, "Where's Ron?"
Ginny groaned. "Where isn't Ron? He practically lives here half the time," she grumbled. "Always coming round. Makes me feel like a third wheel in my own home."
Neville didn't say anything. What was this? Vent to Neville day? All he wanted to do was kill her brother.
"I suppose he tried to sell you that hair growth potion—"
He shook his head and eyed Harry for help but Harry just sat back in his chair with an amused expression on his face, sipping from his cup as a breeze rolled by.
"No, what's wrong with my hair?"
Harry snorted and Ginny blushed nervously. "Err…well, Neville to be honest—why are your eyes so red?"
Before he could say anything a loud crash could be heard from the house and a shrill yell of 'Arthur!' The three jumped and Ginny turned to smile weakly at Harry who looked less than amused.
"As much as I love your father, please tell him to stop trying to make all my muggle things magical. I really don't want my coasters biting me again."
Ginny groaned and rushed off towards the house, screaming for her father, leaving Harry and Neville alone.
"What's going on?" Neville asked, taking the seat that Ginny had occupied moments ago.
Harry whistled and took a sip from his cup. "Don't let Ginny hear you ask that. I don't know myself," he admitted quietly. His eyes were looking past Neville's head and instead at the trees and the grass behind him. "All I know is we're having a party and I have gifts stashed under the floorboards incase it's her birthday or someone's birthday or an anniversary of something. She really expects me to keep up with all these dates. Got sour with me when I didn't remember it was the anniversary of our first fight as an official couple the other day which lead to another fight and tears because she's so sentimental," he grumbled to himself which caused Neville to raise his eyebrow.
He really didn't know what to say. "As much as I'd love to discuss your love life, where the hell is Ron?"
Harry raised his eyebrow and grinned. His green eyes fell on Neville's shoulder and he pursed his lips, not answering him. Instead, Neville felt a tap on his shoulder and jumped when he didn't see anyone. A second later Ron's head appeared but not his body.
He was hiding under an invisibility cloak.
Neville growled and grabbed him, making Ron fall to the ground with a yelp.
"What happened?" he howled as Neville shoved his face in the dirt. "What's this about!"
Harry twitched in his chair from laughter, moving not to help Ron but to take another sip from his orange colored cup.
"You ruined my life. Hannah thinks I'm…odd."
Harry snorted as Ron groaned on the floor. "Aren't you?"
"Shut-up."
"What happened?" he asked again. Neville let go of Ron who was now covered in dirt and groaned.
"What didn't happen? Should I begin with I was so drunk…"
Harry grinned and nodded his head vigorously. The pumpkin juice, or what Neville assumed was pumpkin juice, sloshed around in his cup and onto his trousers but he didn't even flinch. "The best stories always start out that way, don't they? Remember that time we woke up in the States? Ginny doesn't celebrate that day, that's for sure," he said with a wry grin.
Ron scoffed, getting up and dusting himself off and glaring at Neville. "We ended up in jail. I don't blame her. Hermione still doesn't know to this day, thank Merlin."
Harry rolled his eyes and stretched sloppily in his chair. "Come on then, you were drunk."
Neville nodded and sighed tiredly. "And I might have called her a saucy ho," at this, Ron whistled innocently and said something about the 'nice' weather, "and kissed her cheek like some kind of dog. It's all Ron's fault really. The ho part anyway."
Ron whistled again and asked Neville if he had started working out. He even squeezed his arm and pretended to be surprised by the muscle that was there.
"Does Ginny know you're here?" Neville asked, eyeing Ron. He swatted his hand away from his arm and grumbled as Harry took another sip of his pumpkin juice.
"No and neither does Hermione. Don't blow my cover."
Neville groaned and cursed himself. He stretched his legs towards Harry who was softly singing to himself and bobbing his head to music that wasn't there.
"I'm taking relationship advice from you?" Neville questioned himself. "Of course this would happen to me."
"You're going to be single for the rest of your life," Harry said with a chuckle.
Neville glared at him in return and Ron joined in on the laughter. "Here, here!" he shouted, pumping his fist in the air. "Oh, so that's a bad thing?" he asked, seeing the crestfallen face of Neville. "Let me tell you something Neville, they're all nice and pretty when you date them but once you get down on that knee, all bets are off. I don't even want to know how Hermione is going to act when we're actually married."
Harry chuckled and leaned forward in his chair, nearly falling out of it. He blinked and grinned. "You? My fiancé is mental."
"That's my sister you're talking about," Ron said gruffly.
"Fine. Your sister is mental."
"Harry—"
Neville clapped his hands to bring the attention back to himself and glared at the two. "Enough about you two, what do I do?"
Ron shrugged. He really didn't want to give him anymore advice. It would probably lead to him getting thrown in some bushes or on the dirt again. Harry paused and scratched his chin in thought, well, what he thought was his chin. He was really holding his hand in the air and making some random rubbing motions with his fingers.
"Well," said Ron, taking a few steps away from Neville. "You're going to have to think of something because she's going to be here today."
"I'd suggest apologizing," advised Harry.
Neville rolled his eyes but thought about his suggestion. Apologize? Well, that was one way to go. He could apologize. He could grovel at her feet. He would if he had to. He really had no problem with begging for forgiveness from Hannah. She was worth it.
His thoughts traveled to Hannah. Hannah with her blonde hair that was long and shiny. Neville wanted to run his fingers through it. Neville wanted to run his fingers all over her body.
He blushed as if the others could read his thoughts and averted his eyes to the rich blue sky. He blinked, noticing the clouds even reminded him of Hannah. One was shaped like her left ear, mole and all.
"RON!"
Neville snapped back to attention as Hermione yelled shrilly, rushing towards Ron with Ginny at her heels.
"Crap!" Ron yelled, hiding behind Neville's chair, eyeing his fiancé with a weak smile.
Hermione glared at him while Ginny rolled her eyes at Ron's weak apologies. "What's going on with the three of you? You're always up to something."
Neville didn't say anything. He was too interested in the fight that was going on behind him. Hermione was whispering something about Ron always running off when she needed him and Ron was saying something about Nargles messing with his brain.
"Neville wants some relationship advice and I was just trying to give it to him," said Harry with a loud burp. He grinned at Ginny or 'Ginger' as he had just called her and kept trying to push her down on his lap.
"Don't listen to Ron," Hermione advised with a scowl. Ron huffed. "I feel like I'm experiencing déjà vu."
"And don't listen to Harry," muttered Ginny, trying to take Harry's pumpkin juice away from him and sniff it to see if what was inside of the cup was one hundred percent pumpkin juice. Harry kept swatting her hand away with one hand while the other tangled her red hair.
"All I was saying is that Nev," Neville raised his eyebrow at the nickname, Harry had never called him that before, "should apologize to Hannah for being an idiot."
"That's solid advice." Ginny said brightly. Her focus was really on Harry. She was putting her nose near his mouth and trying to smell his breath. In retaliation he kept licking her nose and chuckling.
Neville blushed at their display of affection and stretched in his chair, putting his head back and focusing on the sky. "You think so?"
Harry nodded. "Just make sure you're sincere about it. Right, Ginger?"
Ginny gave him an odd look and pursed her lips together. "If you're trying to impress her…just be yourself. That's what we want. Be yourself and be truthful. She'd be lucky to have you in her life."
He grinned and arched his eyebrow at Harry who was trying to mouth something to him but Neville couldn't read lips so he ignored him.
"Thanks Ginny."
"No problem. I'll get some water for all of you. This sun is unbearable. We can talk some more after."
Ginny peeled herself off of Harry's lap and walked over to Hermione, signaling for her to stop fighting with Ron and join her back in the house. Once the two were out of earshot, Harry leaned forward and smacked Neville's leg.
"Don't listen to her."
Neville furrowed his brow with confusion. "Don't? But—"
"No. See if I apologized to Ginger for everything I did wrong she would have the upper hand in the relationship," Harry explained calmly. Ron nodded next to Neville and advised him to 'listen to the man.'
"But I'm not in—"
Harry raised his hand to silence Neville. "Exactly. Why give her the upper hand before you're even in the relationship?" He paused to take a sip of his juice. His words were slightly slurred but Neville figured it was just the heat. "Apologize to her, yes, don't get drunk around her, yes, but you need to do something big. Apologizing isn't going to cut it."
"Like what—"
Harry went to smack Neville's leg again but instead hit his own and blinked with confusion. "Women like big things Neville. They like to be awed. When I proposed to Ginny did I just drop down on one knee and show her a ring?"
He wasn't sure. He hadn't really paid any attention to the retelling of their engagement story. He had been too focused on the celebrating part and had woken up the next day on a canoe.
"Err—"
"I took her to dinner. I took her to a Quidditch match. I did all these things for her to make the day special. Do you really think she would have said no after that?"
"Well, I don't think she would have said no in the first place—"
Ron gently smacked the back of Neville's head and scowled. "You're missing the point."
"I am?" he asked weakly.
Harry blinked and pointed to Ron, thinking he was Neville. "Apologize and no drinking. Two simple tasks. And give her a bit of a show. Women like that."
"And wear something fancy," suggested Ron, mumbling something about pink dress robes.
"And—"
The two continued to rattle things off and Neville weakly placed one hand on his head and groaned. He was going to need a quill to write everything down.
Of course Neville should have sniffed Harry's 'pumpkin juice' to check if it really was one hundred percent pumpkin juice with the way he kept referring to Ginny as 'Ginger.' Maybe if he would have he would have thought twice about taking advice on women from Harry Potter.
-x-
Neville still wasn't sure what they were supposed to be celebrating. The dining room of the Potter household was decorated with blown up pictures of Harry and Ginny and flowers that almost made the place feel like a garden.
He didn't know if they were celebrating a date, their first picture together or the fact that Harry had once given Ginny flowers. It really didn't seem to matter to the Weasley family. Dinner in the house was as lively as ever. Someone always got drunk at one of Ginny's shindigs. The Weasley family was filled with party animals now that they were all of age.
"…And then I said to her, how did a pig get in my bathtub!"
The table broke out with laughter and Neville watched as Dean Thomas smacked George Weasley on the back. Neville had missed the punch line. He had been on edge the entire night. When he was eating he had cracked his plate from cutting his chicken so hard, which got Arthur to call him 'tough man' the entire night.
Seeing Ron's father drunk tended to make Neville feel better about himself. The rest of the family wasn't embarrassed by the father's fun, except for Molly, who had to constantly remind her husband that they were in front of company and it was not acceptable to stumble about their future son-in-law's house and tinker with his muggle things.
Neville's favorite part of the night was when Arthur accidentally lit Harry's television set on fire. Harry didn't even blink an eye. He had spent most of the night trying to get Ginny tipsy but ended up matching her and Seamus drink for drink. He was going through one of his identity crisis stages again and kept asking everyone what was a muggle.
He had also started singing naughty songs about peas, making Neville come to the conclusion that Harry Potter had quite the dirty mouth and imagination.
During the entire dinner he tried to talk to Hannah who was sitting next to Ernie Macmillan and eagerly talking to him. Jealousy filled every part of Neville's body. His eyes barely shifted off of her during the entire night.
"Tough guy!" Arthur shouted next to him, poking his nose with a grin.
Neville groaned and rubbed his red nose, eyeing the red jolly man next to him. "Yes, Mr. Weasley?" he asked, waiting for him to say something else.
The lack of any real conversation was starting to get on Neville's nerves.
"No!" he shouted, grabbing his glass of water and pouring it over the small fire Arthur had created with his wand. The rest of the table didn't even blink an eye as Arthur clapped his hands gleefully at the mess. "We don't light our napkins on fire," Neville chastised.
Arthur blinked and then opened his blue eyes wide and peered at Neville. "What's going on tough guy!"
"Nothing," he grumbled. He tried to awkwardly scoot away from the man next to him. His breath reeked of alcohol and Neville was afraid at any moment he would either vomit all over him or mistake him for his wife who was currently preoccupied with trying to stop Lee Jordan from swinging from a chandelier.
"Why so sullen tough guy?"
Neville paused and then scooted closer to Arthur. He supposed the smell of alcohol wasn't too bad. If he was going to be able to pour his heart out to the grey haired man then he wouldn't grumble about his smell or the fact that he was poking Neville's gut with his wand and trying to light him on fire.
"I just…I have no clue what to do. I want to talk to her," his eyes flitted towards Hannah who was listening intently to what Ernie was telling her. "I want to apologize but I don't know how and I don't want to mess it up."
Arthur poked Neville rather forcefully and then burped in his face (earning a look of disgust from the boy). "Go on there tough guy," he commanded, "you're a tough guy, you know what I like about you?" he asked.
Neville shrugged weakly, trying not to breathe through his nose. "I'm going to take a wild guess and say not my smile," he mumbled.
"That you're a tough guy. Buck up."
Arthur prodded his stomach again, this time with as much force as the drunk man could muster. Neville jumped out of his seat, almost falling to the floor as he fumbled to remove himself from the table, his eyes set on Hannah.
He slowly walked towards her, Ernie still occupying Hannah's poor ear. Neville told himself what he was about to do was alright. He was just going to apologize to her. It really wasn't a big deal.
He had to stop himself from smacking Ernie's big head and throwing him out of his seat like some sort of rabid, territorial animal.
"Hannah," he said, coughing slightly to break up their conversation.
Hannah looked up at Neville, a frown quickly appearing on her face, blue eyes filling with worry. Neville didn't miss how her hand quickly found Ernie's and squeezed his for comfort. Ernie said nothing and instead gave Neville an amused look.
Neville had to stop himself from baring his teeth like a hungry werewolf.
"Can I talk to you for a moment?"
Hannah shook her head and then groaned at the accidental jab in her ribs by Percy Weasley's elbow. "Neville—"
Neville did not wait for her to continue. Instead, he pushed Ernie out of the way (not that he really needed to, there was enough room for the two of them) and then grabbed Hannah's hand, pulling her straight out of her seat.
She silently followed him towards the kitchen where they were met with quiet and the smell of fresh air rolling in from the open window. Neville dropped Hannah's hand quickly and secretly wished he had had at least one drink to give him the confidence for what he was about to do.
Hannah shifted awkwardly from left foot to right foot, waiting for him to say something as she fidgeted with the hem of her lime green blouse.
"I want to apologize for everything," the words rushed out of his mouth quickly. He found himself not staring into the eyes of Hannah but instead a small picture frame of a smiling and waving Harry and Ginny with a caption that read, 'Home Sweet Home.' "I apologize for what I said and what I did and more importantly what I said in front of my Gran and then for everything else I did…I'm not entirely sure of everything that I did," a slight chuckle escaped from his mouth and he mentally cursed himself. Now was not the time to laugh about what had happened. "It's all a bit of a blur and I have no idea why I had a coconut bra on either but I suppose I apologize for that too."
His eyes finally fell on Hannah who was smiling sweetly at him.
She placed her hand on his arm gently and pursed her lips together. "Calm down. It's fine. You were drunk. I've never seen you drunk before. It was just shocking," she admitted quietly.
Neville sighed with relief and had to stop himself from wrapping his arms around her body and engulfing her in a bone crushing hug. "You forgive me? Seriously? I was ready to sing at the top of my lungs or do a dance or something—"
"Please don't. I accept your apology. I had fun…well, I had fun at first. It was nice to go…well…it was nice to see you."
At this, Neville turned red but was more than happy to notice Hannah blushing herself. She was grinning at him and nervously tapping her foot on the floor.
"Can we…would you…want to do it again?" Neville took a deep breath to try and calm down the nervous beating of his heart. "This time with less alcohol and more conversation?"
He waited impatiently for Hannah to answer. It felt like ages as she pondered his suggestion, puckering her pink lips, unpuckering them and then fluttering her lashes, only to start the entire process again. It was utter torture to him.
She smiled and nodded her head, her blue eyes staring strongly into his. "Sure." Her voice was a whisper.
Neville felt like his entire body had been lit on fire as her answer repeated itself in his head. Sure. Sure. Sure. She had agreed! She wanted to see Neville again. She wanted to give him another try.
He smiled at her, a wide, sloppy grin and he was certain they were having a moment so he leaned in without thinking.
Hannah felt like it was happening in slow motion. She could see his lips coming towards hers and wanted to cry out but was silenced as his dry, cracking lips found her own. She made no response to his lips on hers as he sloppily kissed her, his hand coming up to caress her neck.
Her eyes popped open in horror and her hands finally found the direction they needed. She pushed him off of her with all the force she had in her body and gaped at his red grinning face.
"What is wrong with you!" she shouted, shaking slightly.
At the reaction and loud decibel of her voice, Neville frowned and realized he had just done something terribly wrong. His brain started to function again and realization dawned on him. Slowly, he stumbled backwards and threw his back onto the pink flowered wall of Harry and Ginny's kitchen.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled weakly, "I don't know…you were giving me the look. You licked your lips."
His argument sounded weak to his own ears as Hannah flared her nostrils and threw her arms up in the air. "They're dry!" she shouted.
Neville gulped. "They were rather moist to me."
She gaped angrily at him, her hands shoving through her blonde hair with exasperation. "I said I'd go out with you. I didn't say you could attack me with your mouth!"
"Where's a time turner when you need one?" he mumbled to himself.
He really wished he could have just gone back to a few seconds ago when Hannah was smiling at him and the prospects of them getting together, getting married and giving Augusta Longbottom the great-grandkids she so desperately wanted was looking good.
"Forget it Neville." Her voice was tight with anger but it had a hint of sadness too.
He watched as Hannah rushed towards the kitchen door and swung it open, ready to stomp out of the house and shatter all of Neville's dreams.
"Hannah, wait—"
"Goodbye," she said, not bothering to turn around and look at him. Neville heard the loud crack and watched Hannah disappear right before his eyes.
He gloomily stared at the spot she had been standing on and slowly turned away with a sullen expression on his face, his heart feeling heavier than ever.
At that moment Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan stumbled into the room, the latter waving a bottle of firewhiskey in the air.
"Oi! I don't have a pot of gold!" he shouted, kicking the imaginary person behind him.
Neville stared at the two and then his eyes targeted the bottle.
"Give me a drink," he commanded.
The two cheered and watched as Neville lunged towards them and sipped greedily at the bottle, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and burping loudly.
Seamus grabbed the bottle back from him and shook it, guiding Neville towards the party that had moved to the backyard. Neville's thoughts were on Harry Potter, on Hannah and the firewhiskey that burned his throat.
Before the night was over, Harry Potter's bad advice wouldn't be Neville's problem anymore. Between Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigian it would be a mystery to many how Neville would survive the night and wake up in Hannah Abbot's bedroom.
Author's Note: I kind of went overboard. This chapter was originally 27 pages long in a word document but I decided to cut some of it out. I'm excited to see what you all think about the ending! Don't forget to review!