
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/262075.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Neville_Longbottom/Cho_Chang
  Character:
      Neville_Longbottom, Cho_Chang
  Additional Tags:
      Public_Sex, Fingering
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-10-07 Words: 2665
****** It's Always the Quiet Ones ******
by MaxWrite
Summary
     Neville had never been so terrified of anything in his life.
Notes
     Written for Daily_Deviant.
Cho Chang was absolutely terrifying.
Neville didn't understand it, how she could be so popular with the boys.
Neville was a boy and he avoided her like the plague.
It wasn't that he didn't understand the attraction. She was very pretty. She
had lovely, dark eyes and shiny hair and a radiant smile. Neville wasn't blind,
after all. His body reacted to her the way he expected it to. Often at the most
inconvenient times.
But she was still terrifying. She was taller than he was. Many of the girls in
his year were, but they didn't scare him like she did. They didn't smile at him
the way she did. They didn't look him up and down or whisper about him the way
she did. If she had been taking the piss, looking at him with disdain, well,
that he would have understood. Neville was mousy and quiet and riddled with
nerves, he was pudgy and awkward. He was used to being made fun of. Business as
usual, that.
But that wasn't what Cho was doing. When they'd pass each other in the hall,
she'd give him genuine smiles and little waves, she'd say hi to him with that
lilt in her voice that girls sometimes got when they fancied someone. Neville
had seen that before. He'd seen Cho do that with Harry mere months ago, but
something had changed. Neville wasn't clear on all the details, but what he did
know was that Cho's interest had shifted. To him.
She'd help him pick up his books when he tripped (or got tripped, as was often
the case), she'd tell bullies off when they harrassed him, she'd touch his arm
and ask with concern if he was all right. He'd simply gulp and nod. What else
was he supposed to do? Actually speak to her? She didn't seem put off by his
silence. Somehow she seemed to understand it, even find it endearing. She'd
smile in that way that made her eyes seem to smile too, she'd squeeze his arm
and then head off on her way, spinning round and walking jauntily down the
hall, her little uniform skirt flouncing behind her.
That skirt was another thing altogether. It was too bloody short! How did
anyone in the universe ever get anything done when Cho Chang was traipsing
about in a skirt like that? Criminy.
Well, he'd have to speak to her eventually. This was all getting out of hand.
He couldn't sleep, he couldn't eat, he couldn't think. He'd been rubbish at
Potions enough as it was, but since she'd started flirting, he'd destroyed
three whole cauldrons. Well, at any rate Professor Snape seemed pleased to have
Neville's increased screw-ups to focus on. Oh, how he loved to make an example
of Neville. Neville supposed it was nice that at least one person was getting
something out of this.
But no more. Today was the day. Neville was going to march into the Great Hall,
straight over to the Ravenclaw table, straight to Cho and ask to speak
privately with her. He knew what would happen. Her friends would giggle, partly
at the fact that a boy was demanding her attention, partly because that boy was
Neville. They'd wonder when he'd suddenly grown a backbone. Well, he would show
them. He would open his mouth, take a breath, and he would speak. And his voice
wouldn't crack and he wouldn't turn bright pink, and if he was going to faint,
well by God, he would wait until he was at least out in the front hall before
he did it.
Neville nodded to himself as he stood outside the Great Hall. He watched
student after student pile into the enormous room, each one walking by and
going in as if Cho Chang and her ridiculously tiny skirt weren't sitting
inside. Neville squared his shoulders, puffed out his chest. And off he went
...
... straight to the Gryffindor table to hide his face behind his Herbology
book.
Who was he joking? He'd had no intention of going up to her. Well, there'd been
some intention there, but it had been horribly misguided. He peeked over his
book at the Ravenclaw table, his eyes zeroing in on Cho in seconds as though
drawn to some kind of light that she radiated. Maybe it was the way the light
reflected off the silky sheet of hair that cascaded down her back, the way it
danced as she talked animatedly with her friends and moved her head about. It
wasn't because he liked her. No, he wasn't that foolish. If he was going to go
after anyone, it should be someone more in his league, someone a little more
normal. Cho wasn't a normal girl. She was the most terrifying creature to ever
walk the earth. And he did not like her. Nope. He didn't want to like her. He
didn't need the added stress. There was something almost liberating about
knowing and accepting one's own limitations.
She was still occupied with her friends, so Neville lowered his book with a
sigh of relief and helped himself to some bacon. He chugged several large gulps
of orange juice. His mouth was awfully dry. Perhaps he should try to get a
girlfriend, try to scare Cho off a bit. Neville surveyed the room for someone
appropriate. Surely, if Cho liked him, there must be another, less frightening
girl in the school who fancied him too. Honestly, if only one girl in the
entire school fancied him, why on earth would it be Cho Chang? It didn't make
sense.
"Hi, Neville."
He jumped, shaking the entire table when his knee flew up and banged against
the underside. He clutched his throbbing knee beneath the table and looked
slowly up at the one girl in the world he couldn't bear to talk to.
His lack of verbal response didn't faze her. She took a seat next to him as
though it was something she did everyday. Neville glanced around, unsurprised
to find a few curious eyes watching them.
"I'm sorry to bother you," she said. "Neville, I don't know if you'd noticed,
but I ... well, I ... I'm sorry, I'm not very good at this sort of thing, I'm
afraid."
Neville gulped and slumped down in his seat.
"I probably should have said something ages ago. Yes, I was sort of dating
Harry, but, well, that's over now. He really isn't my type. I'm sorry, I know
he's your friend, but don't you find him a bit, I dunno, up himself sometimes?"
As if on cue, Harry went walking by, with Ron and Hermione bickering behind
him. They moved a little ways up the table from Neville and sat down. Neville
hazarded a glance at Cho; she was scowling, but Neville was still too unnerved
to be indignant on Harry's behalf.
"He's just so ... argh." She looked at him and relaxed. "I'm sorry. It's
nothing. It's over. I go for a sweeter sort of guy, more sensitive, you know?"
Neville gulped.
"Someone who isn't constantly the centre of attention." She shimmied closer to
him. Their knees touched and Neville thought he might pass out. "You're sweet,"
she went on, her voice quieter now. "And you're such a good listener."
He felt her touch his hand and could do nothing but sit there and let it
happen. His eyes darted; no one seemed to notice this most bizarre of
occurrences, no one had any idea that Cho Chang was holding Neville's hand
beneath the table. The curious looks had all gone back to their breakfasts,
apparently finding nothing out of the ordinary. Were they mad?
She suddenly changed position, swinging a leg over the bench so that she was
straddling it and facing him. He glanced down before he could stop himself. Her
legs were spread on either side of the bench, spread wide open, her creamy-
looking thighs going off in separate directions. Her little skirt hung between
them, looking like the most inadequate piece of clothing ever stitched
together.
"Have you ever been kissed?" she whispered suddenly. He looked at her face in
alarm. She gazed back earnestly, stroking his hand with her thumb. Was he
actually expected to answer? He tried to remember how to do that. He took a
chance and shook his head. A second later, his brain remembered that a head
shake was indeed the proper response to this particular question and he relaxed
a little.
"You've never ... done anything with a girl before. Have you?"
He shook his head again, this time emphatically, as though she'd asked if he'd
stolen something.
"You do like girls, don't you, Neville?" She placed his hand on her thigh.
Neville looked down to make sure it was actually happening. Yep, there was his
hand on her smooth, firm skin. Great Merlin's beard, his thumb and index finger
were touching her inner thigh! Neville glanced around again. Still, no one was
watching.
"I haven't done much beyond kissing," she said. He felt her shift and he looked
down again. Her legs were slightly parted now. Oh, sweet Jesus. He looked away,
looked down at his plate and tried to breathe. Just keep breathing. Don't pass
out. His hands were clammy. Didn't that bother her? Clammy hands on her skin?
Surely that was a turn off. But Cho didn't seem to care as she began shifting
Neville's hand further and further up her thigh, closer to the burning heat
that Neville knew was underneath her skirt, the heat he could feel now, getting
hotter as his hand drew nearer. His mouth was a desert. He didn't care if this
was no time for orange juice, he picked up his glass with his free hand and
gulped some down.
"My ex-boyfriends have been perfect gentlemen," she went on with a sigh. "Not
that I have a problem with that. It was nice. But now ... now I want to do
things," she whispered. "Do you think about doing things? Things with girls?"
Neville put his glass down, swallowed and exhaled heavily. "Yup," he squeaked,
somehow finding his voice, though just barely. He'd actually spoken to her. And
the sky wasn't falling. He glanced at her and she gave him a coy, rather sexy
smile. This time, Neville couldn't look away. Her heat was searing his hand as
his wrist pushed her skirt further up.
And then he felt it. She had hair there.
Well, of course she did. She was fifteen. Or sixteen. Neville couldn't remember
which. He didn't know why he was surprised by the little curls at her crotch,
but it was a strangely pleasant surprise. He let her guide his hand to cup the
entire area, and he saw her face change just slightly, saw a hint of something
lustful creep into her eyes, saw her lips part just a bit. He felt her breath
as she slowly exhaled, saw her small chest heave beneath her sweater. She
guided his middle finger right into her, slipped it between the lips down
between her legs. She was wet down there. Neville knew that girls got wet down
there. Of course he knew. Still, he found himself once again pleasantly
surprised.
His finger slipped in deeper, and she gasped just slightly. His heart was
pounding. His dick was throbbing. How the hell was he supposed to stand up
after this? If he was late to class because of her ... well, he supposed he
could live with that. A dopey grin touched his lips, which he wiped off his
face straight away, but not quickly enough; she'd seen it. And to his relief,
she grinned back, a shy, rather innocent grin, with a hint of excitement in her
eyes.
She let go of his hand, and he kept it there. He tested the waters a bit,
wiggling his finger about inside her. She squirmed and leaned close to him.
"You're the first to touch me like this, you know," she whispered into his ear.
He panted a bit, suddenly feeling out of breath. "You've never been touched,
have you?"
He shook his head. And then he felt her hand on him, finger-walking along his
thigh toward his groin. She found him, found the hard ridge in his trousers,
and gingerly felt it, ran her fingertips along it. He couldn't control his
breathing. He couldn't stop himself panting. His mouth was so dry, he thought
he might cough up a tumble weed.
"My friends think I'm odd for liking you," she said.
He looked at her in shock. "Y-you've told them? That you like me?"
She cocked her head. "Sure. Why wouldn't I? I don't care what they think."
He gazed at her, at her mouth. He wanted to kiss her. Surely they should have
kissed before touching each other like this. Well, too late to change it now.
And truth be told, Neville wouldn't have changed a thing.
"We should hang out," she breathed. "Yeah?"
He nodded.
She smiled sweetly, then took his hand again and pushed his finger deeper into
her wet warmth. He watched her mouth drop open and her eyes glaze, watched her
body arch. A little groan escaped her. Neville's dick jerked in his pants.
"Can we do more of this when we're alone?" she asked. Her eyes were so dazed
now, he thought perhaps someone had slipped her a love potion. That would
certainly explain a few things.
He remembered he should be nodding. So, he nodded. He was rewarded with one of
her radiant smiles.
Then, without warning, she stood. Neville's finger slipped out of her and he
watched her swing her other foot over the bench, bringing her knee up high
enough that Neville caught just the tiniest glimpse of the black thatch of hair
he'd just been feeling. He looked around, thinking for sure someone had
noticed, but the only eyes that were on her were dropping casually back down to
the food or books before them. They'd noticed nothing strange.
Was he imagining things? Even if no one had seen her privates, why didn't
anyone think it odd that she was talking to him at all? Maybe this wasn't as
odd as he'd thought. Maybe she wasn't out of his league. Well ... he found that
downright uncomfortable. He'd grown accustomed to his place in the world. What
was he now?
She leaned over and whispered in his ear that she would talk to him later, then
she spun round and walked off. He watched her go, all the way around Gryffindor
table and back to Ravenclaw's.
He sat there feeling shaky. His heart was still thudding, he knew he was
ghostly pale and he was so hard he was sure he wouldn't be able to stand again
for the next half hour. He felt a bit sick, a bit frightened. What if someone
had seen? There was all sorts of magic in this place. Surely when two students
did something this wrong, someone somewhere knew about it. Surely an alarm went
off some place. McGonagall was going to march up to him any second and demand
to see him in her office. Dumbledore would probably be there waiting and he'd
look at Neville with disappointment. That was always the worst, the
disappointment. Was it really worth it? This never would have happened to Old
Neville, Normal Neville, the Neville that no one noticed, that girls didn't
fancy. Normal Neville could have been halfway through breakfast by now, ready
to head off to class. Without the bothersome erection.
He rubbed at his middle finger with his thumb. It was still damp. Glancing
nervously around as though someone might know exactly what he was doing, he
brought his finger up to nose and sniffed it. The scent went straight to his
cock. It was like a shot of adrenaline coursing through his body.
He smiled to himself. The hell with Normal Neville. It was totally worth it.
END
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