**This is a warning for SEXUAL, EXPLICIT content**

Hope you enjoy! :)

Chapter 6

Passion flower is an exotic looking, creeping vine that can grow white, purple flowers around a berry. Also said to be an aphrodisiac

When she made the smallest of whimpers in the back of her throat, Neville knew the chance he had taken in kissing her like that paid off. And paid off big. At first, he thought her to be of the shy type which was fine. It just meant he needed to take his time and get to know her. To coax her, to seduce. He set his mind to it, thrilled to have a new witch around to play with. But having Penny hang around his shop during the day lately, he kind of figured out from her that Rose wasn't actually shy. She'd just been out of the game for awhile since her husband died.

He understood that better than most men would, he reckoned. Losing Hannah had been the worst day of his life. He had never felt so hopeless before, and hadn't since either. It had taken a very long time and more than a few whiskeys to get his head back on straight. Yeah… he could understand her hesitation to get back into the dating game. He respected it even, and determined to make his seduction a slow one. It would be all the better for it.

But when she mentioned Maggie for the second time he caught the flash of desire in her eyes and wondered just what had been going through that pretty little head of hers.

He decided to speed things up a bit. It was just good fortune she had chocolate frosting on her lip and the moment he grabbed her wrist, he knew he mirrored her desire.

Her wrist felt delicate in his grip and he watched her wide brown eyes as he so gently sucked her upper lip into his mouth, sucking off the frosting, and listening to her short breaths. He had kissed so many women, enjoyed their company whenever he could, so he knew what he was doing. He knew she was enjoying their first kiss. He saw the moment she gave in and leaned closer, her big brown eyes fluttering shut and her raised fingers intertwining with his own.

What he hadn't expected was the way it made him feel. His entire body tensed and hardened until he dropped her hand and grabbed her by the shoulders, wrenching her away so he could look at her properly.

She didn't look like Hannah… except maybe the eyes. No, maybe not. Hannah's had been browner, bigger. Hannah had been taller, with golden skin and curly red hair. Smiling all the time. Hannah had been Hannah.

He studied Rose's features, watching as she struggled for breath, her face ragged with passion, and tried to figure out what made him feel like that. What it even was that he felt. But she didn't look like Hannah. Rose's hair was dark black and thick and fell in messy curls and waves down her back, her skin milky white, her lips a pink bow. The two women were different. Totally different. And one was dead. Dead for 15 years.

"Neville?" the word slipped past her trembling and bruised lips. In the back of his mind, he knew that she was familiar to him, more than just a passing face he might've once seen before. And maybe she was keeping a secret from him about it, but she wasn't familiar because she was like Hannah.

He moved his hands up from her shoulders, sliding up her neck, and spread his fingers to cup her cheeks as he tried to figure it out. He held her face close to his, looking at the smooth sweep of her nose and little scar at the bridge. He wondered how she got the scar and if she minded his own scars.

This witch wasn't Hannah Abbott, and yet the feeling in his chest was so achingly familiar to her he didn't understand why it had returned after all this time. After all the women he had been with to find it again, why was it back now? What was it about Rose Russo that inspired the gentle feeling?

When no answer immediately presented itself, he leaned in again and resumed the kiss before it went away. And he didn't hold back this time. Wrapping his arms around her, he placed both his hands under her pretty pink tank top and flush against the skin of her back. In the same movement he angled his head and took her lips in another kiss, holding her against his body until she stood on her tiptoes and breathed his name between breaths.

And he felt it all over again, his body went hard and his heart thumped heavily and he knew in that moment that this witch, Rose, was different. And he wanted her.

"Where?" he asked, sliding his fingers into her hair to hold her head back as he kissed his way down her throat. She smelled like fucking Lemongrass and sunshine. "Where?"

She didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Upstairs. Top floor."

He eyed the spiral staircase and laughed out loud. "Make it challenging for me then, why don't you."

She gave him a bewildered look before he swooped down and picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder at the waist. Her wide hips felt thick and heavy against his arm as he held her firmly, even as she gasped and wiggled to be put down.

"Neville Longbottom! Just what do you think you are doing! I'm too heavy! Put me down!"

"Not a chance." he laughed, taking the steps two at a time as he hauled her all the way up the top floor. Once there, he looked down over the railing to the see the ground floor and the front door, which was still propped open. The front facing wall had a million different sized and shaped windows, some open, some closed, but they all looked out over Diagon Alley.

Rose struggled to be let down, hitting him in the back as she wiggled. "Neville!" Though he ignored her to take his wand out and magically shut the front door before turning around and marching through the double doors that led into her bedroom. Once those were shut firmly behind them, he walked them to the bed and deposited her there with a playful bounce. He took a quick look around, noting the wide windows and the sturdy wardrobe. The long, high desk with sketches overflowing each other scattered this way and that. He saw the vase with a single passion flower bloom floating in water and he remembered that this witch gardened. His erection grew immediately. Looking down at her, he wanted nothing more than to hold her down and fuck her until they both came together. Multiple times.

She looked up at him like he was crazy, her hair beginning to fall from it's clip at the back of her head and her tank top twisted around her torso, revealing that pretty belly button to him. She immediately turned to the side, attempting to get away but he grabbed her by the ankles and pulled her down as he descended closer to her. She had no choice but to bring her hands to his shoulders and bask in the waves of heat rolling off him as his body pressed hers into the mattress.

"Wait - "

"Rose, I won't hurt you." he said coming to a stillness so close their noses almost touched. His dark blue eyes bore into hers and demanded absolute seriousness.

There was no hesitation, no question in his gaze. He meant exactly what he said and his eyes promised it. He felt her relax ever so slightly and he took the moment to enjoy having a soft, warm body beneath him. He leaned in the bare inch between them and reinitiated their kiss, wrapping his arms around her waist. She slowly mirrored the action much to his delight, and he pressed harder into the kiss. Soft lips on hard lips, they kissed for a long time as his hands explored her body and hers pressed into the skin of his back, underneath his shirt. When he brushed his thumbs under her tank top she made that throaty whimper again and he nudged her legs apart gently with his jeaned knee.

Slowly, so slowly, she unbuttoned the small white buttons that went up his shirt until she was pushing the flannel off his shoulders and then he was wearing only his work boots and his dirty work jeans. He spent several minutes kissing and breathing hot air against her neck and collarbone all the while his thumbs rubbed circles into her hips and ass and he resisted the urge to rip off her little black shorts and plunge himself completely inside her. He was desperate to get the rest of their clothing off, but he steeled himself from rushing. She was taking her time, running her hands over his bare chest and back, feeling every ridge and muscle and scar she could. And fuck it felt amazing.

Slow and steady. He told himself, continuing to rub those circles into her skin with his thumb, kissing the hell out of her, listening to her little whimpers. Her fingers dug deeper into his skin and he couldn't help when he thrusted his hips against her, pushing his solid erection right into her core, two sets of denim separating them from true connection.

She gasped away from the kiss and her eyes rolled back into her head, the heat a tangible thing between them. Slow. Slow! He went as slow as he could possibly go, kissing her lips, her jaw, her neck and back again, slowly moving his hips against hers. He had to get their remaining clothes off, and quickly, before he drove himself mad with how fucking slow they were going.

Thrill raced through his veins as it often did when he made love to a woman, but this time was edged on by something more and he made himself enjoy it, feel every moment. Kissing his way down her throat again, she arched her neck to give him better access and he found the source of the wonderful lemongrass scent rubbed into the skin there. Gods bless him for having the good sense to give her that bottle she had been eyeing in the store.

She made a needy sound again and he looked up to check on her. Her face was flushed with desire and her lips red with worry, her eyes closed as she enjoyed him. Slow. Steady. He reminded himself.

He lowered his lips again to her warm skin, kissing his way below her throat then down in a straight line across her flushed chest. Her breath pushed her breasts tight against the cloth of her tank top and he felt the erotic movement against his neck. He pushed his hands up from their place at her hips, slowly dragging the calloused fingers across the skin on her sides up to either side of her breasts all while kissing the skin of her chest. He kneaded gently into her breasts, just as he kissed the space between them. When she resisted he looked up again, only to see her sit up slightly and tug the obstructing top over her head and throw it to the ground urgently. Her bra was black and lacy like her shorts, her breasts straining against the soft fabric.

He grinned at her needy look, happy to know his touches were driving her just the right amount of crazy. She liked her breasts to be kissed and touched and he put the information away in the file of things he wanted to remember about Rose Russo. Instead of returning to their original position she pushed on his shoulders and he allowed her to push him into a sitting position he didn't plan on staying long in… until she straddled him.

"Bloody hell." he mumbled the moment she wrapped her legs around his hips and her arms around his shoulders. They returned to kissing as he ran one hand into her hair, pulling the clip out, and the other hand up her bare back, coming to the clasp of her bra and unhooking it with ease. The straps fell down her arms but she was so consumed with the kiss she barely noticed. He had to push her back watching as he released both the bra and her mass of wild black hair at the same time. The hair tumbled down over her shoulders like a dark halo as the bra fell between them, exposing her bare breasts to him. Her nipples peaked, large and thick, the skin around them a dark cherry red.

The moment slowed and then seared into his brain permanently, never to be forgotten and he wondered yet again why this time was different, why this witch was different. His breaths turned ragged as he took her in, all creamy white skin surrounded by her long tangles of black hair, the dark nipples begging to be kissed and sucked on, her swollen red lips and heavy brown eyes that bore into his own. He couldn't possibly be harder for her. But the moment the bra fell and landed between them was the moment he lost her.

oOoOo

She realized just how naked she was, with a man who wasn't her husband, and all her confidence shot right out the window. Not only was this man not her husband, but it was Neville, who didn't even realize her real name. The very second she felt his hot breath against her bare breasts, their eyes met and all logic and reason previously absent returned to her with a hard kick. There was a reason why she hadn't actively asked after him, a reason why they shouldn't date… shouldn't do what they were currently doing.

She felt her face turn beet red, and not from desire either. How could she sleep with a man while lying to him about who she really was? She had been relieved in a sort when she spied him with that other witch, Maggie. Because it gave her a great excuse to stop thinking about him. Why oh why did she have to invite him over? How the hell did she get into this situation?

His deep blue eyes were heavy with lust as he looked at her and it did everything to ignite her passion, with just that one look. She wanted him so badly, the place between her legs were soaking wet and warm, held back by only the thin fabric of her shorts and panties. His kisses were addictive, his lips dragging her further into her desire. She had been on the verge of saying no, because it was the right thing to do, when he had said just the absolute right thing to say.

"I won't hurt you."

Now she was straddling him.

"I'm sorry - Oh Gods I'm sorry. I can't."

"Hey hey, it's okay. We stop when you say stop." his words were right, but the look in his eyes said he was going to fuck her right there on her bed until she didn't know anything else.

"I - I -"

"What can I do?" he said, his hands rose up her sides again, until his thumbs were under her breasts. One little movement and those thumbs could be on her nipples, sending her into orgasm if he knew what he was doing. Her damn nipples had always been so sensitive, and Rose didn't doubt for a single second that Neville knew what he was doing.

"You don't - you don't even know me." she said finally, her lip quivering as emotion crashed through her. She wanted him. But guilt had her thinking about Phil entirely too much to be having sex with another man.

He seemed to see what she was saying, but his hands remained exactly where they were. "So tell me." he leaned forward bringing them impossibly closer. "And Rose? It's okay to think about him."

"How can you think it's okay for me to think about my husband while I'm … while we're…"

And the look he gave her reminded her that he wasn't some shy, stumbling Gryffindor she once knew in another life. The arrogance on his face made her very aware that this was a man, a man who knew who he was and what he was doing, who had grown up. "Because when I'm having sex with you Rose Russo, you won't be thinking about another man." he said in a stern voice that had her heart jumping. "I'm saying it's okay to feel… guilty because he never left you, he died. Hell if I was married to you, I would never leave willingly either."

"I …"

"I understand." he insisted. "There is nothing wrong with missing him. It took me a long time after -" he paused, swallowing hard. " - Hannah - died for me to feel anything for someone else. And like I said, you say stop and we stop."

His admission shocked her to the core. "Hannah… Abbott?" she said without thinking.

His eyebrows shot up and his hands tightened briefly on her torso. "You knew her?"

She swallowed and nodded softly. "I'm sorry I didn't know she had passed."

They stayed silent for several long moments, both of them looking at one another as they tried to work out how they felt. He rubbed her sides gently and without the haze and heat of sex it tickled her. Giggling, she wiggled trying to get away. He smirked dangerously and held onto her tighter. It was exactly what they needed to clear the air of their dead loves. "There." he said, leaning up to kiss her softly, a small press of their lips. "Now we know each other better."

His hand went into the tangle of her hair again, the other wrapped around her waist holding her to him. And she realized they fit together like two pieces that had been missing each other. He rubbed his stubble rough jaw against hers. "Can I make love to you now, Rose Russo?"

His question shot her to the moon and she completely forgot why they shouldn't. "Yes, please."

He untangled himself from her, only for long enough to rid himself of his boots and socks and his jeans. She took the moment to push her shorts and panties down, kicking them off before scooting up to the head of the bed and laying back on the pillows. She watched with heavy breaths as he undressed and bared his erection for her, enjoying every hard line of his body. He sunk into the bed beside her and rolled up onto his elbows, bracing himself above her. It was a perfect, tender moment as they looked into each others eyes.

Hearing that he understood exactly how she felt, what she needed, worked just as good as any foreplay. And he was already good at that. She watched as he reached between them, placing a heavy hand on her thigh and pushing it up over his waist, before he positioned his erection right against the slit between her legs.

It had been so long since she had last had sex, she worried it would affect her performance. She felt him nudging her just as he descended on her, dragging her into a kiss that rocked her entire body. He kept his eyes open as he kissed her, and she did too. The moment he entered her with a slow, unforgiving burn, her vision split and she knew she was right.

He made love to her until she knew nothing else.