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shallownessTitle: Old-fashioned Waltz
Author: shallowness
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: G
Characters/Pairing: Neville, Ginny
Summary: Neville and Ginny dancing again.
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine, and I make no profit from this fan-written fiction.
Author's Note: Spoilers for DH. 175 words.
Old-fashioned Waltz: shallowness
Nearly every other conversation Neville’s had tonight has been about why it was decided to raise money for St Mungo’s by holding a charity ball. One of the healers says it’s therapeutic to dance, and he backs out of the conversation to find better company.
“You aren’t dancing tonight?” he asks Ginny. She gestures down at her bump.
“What if it was a slow number? Like, er, a waltz?” She rolls her eyes a little, because the band is, in fact, playing a waltz.
“For old times’ sake?” he coaxes. “It might be therapeutic.”
“I’m pregnant, not sick!” she exclaims, then laughs. “Oh all right. Why not?” She sets her goblet of pumpkin juice down on a table and adjusts her silvery gown – is it meant to remind you of a Pensieve, Neville wonders, or is he in a bit of a sentimental mood?
“Shall we dance?” he asks, offering his arm.
“I would love to dance with you, Neville,” she responds in kind.
He smiles. They’ve come a long way since the Yule Ball.
Fin.
Feedback is loved.
Author: shallowness
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: G
Characters/Pairing: Neville, Ginny
Summary: Neville and Ginny dancing again.
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine, and I make no profit from this fan-written fiction.
Author's Note: Spoilers for DH. 175 words.
Nearly every other conversation Neville’s had tonight has been about why it was decided to raise money for St Mungo’s by holding a charity ball. One of the healers says it’s therapeutic to dance, and he backs out of the conversation to find better company.
“You aren’t dancing tonight?” he asks Ginny. She gestures down at her bump.
“What if it was a slow number? Like, er, a waltz?” She rolls her eyes a little, because the band is, in fact, playing a waltz.
“For old times’ sake?” he coaxes. “It might be therapeutic.”
“I’m pregnant, not sick!” she exclaims, then laughs. “Oh all right. Why not?” She sets her goblet of pumpkin juice down on a table and adjusts her silvery gown – is it meant to remind you of a Pensieve, Neville wonders, or is he in a bit of a sentimental mood?
“Shall we dance?” he asks, offering his arm.
“I would love to dance with you, Neville,” she responds in kind.
He smiles. They’ve come a long way since the Yule Ball.
Fin.
Feedback is loved.
