shallowness: Margaret Hale of North and South adaptation sitting at desk writing (Margaret North and South writing)
[personal profile] shallowness
Finding, Harry Potter, Teen.
Hannah/Neville (and various other pairings.)
Summary: Hannah has to find Neville.
Written for the deleted prompt ‘love potion number 9’ at [livejournal.com profile] comment_fic. 410 words.


Finding: shallowness


Hannah has to find Neville. It’s an urgent, repeating thought that leads her, goblet in hand, through the ground floor of the castle. She passes Seamus, intent on giving the love bite of all love bites to Lavender, who is holding two goblets, her eyelashes fluttering in pleasure at what he’s doing. Hannah, who knows what it is to have the love bite of all love bites and a scarf as a gift to cover it from a guilty but proud Neville, walks faster.

Then there’s a staircase where Parvati - or is it Padma? - is being led by the hand by a tall figure up to the shadows. Hannah thinks of the wooden, not stone, staircase in her digs and a large gardener’s hand pulling hers.

Hermione is up a couple of steps leaning against the chunky stone newel, being snogged most enthusiastically by Ron and giving as good as she gets, with one hand curved around his bottom. Hannah has to find her Neville. She carries straight on down the corridor, walking faster now, passing a ghost in an empire-line dress waving a fan but making no breeze.

There are a couple of benches against the wall, Hannah remembers frantically, wondering who she’ll see there. To her left, George Weasley has his shop assistant on his lap, as she covers his face with kisses. To Hannah’s right, Luna is entwined with Dean, his robes riding high up on his leg and a goblet tipped on its side next to him. Hannah swallows, remembering a couple of occasions in the Hogwarts greenhouses. She simply has to find Neville.

In the cleared dining hall, Susan and Ernie have given up on dancing for moulding their lips to each other. There is no music playing, like there was when Hannah swayed with Neville.

The flame of Ginny’s hair catches Hannah’s eye. She’s pushed Harry against a wall near and has grabbed his head down to meet hers.

Hannah finds herself being spun around by the arm.

“It’s the wine,” she blurts out. She knew from the first sip that it had been spiked with some sort of potion, as lustful thoughts of her boyfriend took over her brain and everyone around her turned to their significant other or the person they’d always fancied to snog them senseless.

“Don’t care,” Neville says and, to Hannah’s relief, his open mouth falls on hers, kissing her like midnight, like fireworks night, like forever.



Fin

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