TN/NL – You and Me See How We Are
Nov. 11th, 2004 09:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hackthis_archiveDedicated whole-heartedly to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lalejandra for her unwavering ability to put up with my very Slytherin petulance and persistence. And as always for circe_tigana, dorrie6 and serialkarma.
Harry Potter
Theodore Nott/Neville Longbottom
A Thousandth Man-verse story
You and Me See How We Are
Theodore Nott didn’t date.
He wasn’t even terribly certain he knew how to do so.
Obviously, as a part of a certain class of wizard, he had the manners and training required to accompany a person of equal standing to a certain location and provide a certain level of amusement and conversation, should that be required of him. He often visited his acquaintances in their homes and accompanied them on outings, and he suffered no lack of attention from either sex, and yet he couldn’t recall ever being on what popular convention considered a date.
When he was younger his mother had scheduled interactions with other children in his family’s social circle, and when he got older those playmates became a part of his own social circle. Dates weren’t required among Zabinis and Malfoys and Parkinsons, you just did -- and that was that.
All Slytherins simply did -- and perhaps it was because Theodore had stepped out of that inner Slytherin circle that he found himself in this current predicament.
He had been assisting his object of affections, one Neville Longbottom, in Greenhouse One shortly after the post-Winter Break resumption of classes –- if by assisting one meant kissing unabashedly, groping through his robes, and in general, distracting Neville from attending to the Windmilling Willowbelles he was attempting to re-pot.
Neville hadn’t seemed particularly upset by Theodore’s continual distractions, so Theodore hadn’t felt any qualms about interrupting, and he had been attempting to insinuate his hands between Neville’s robes and Neville’s trousers, when Neville had asked him a question to which he had promptly answered ‘yes’ without actually bothering to listen to said question.
At the time Theodore was far more concerned with getting into Neville’s pants than anything else, and it was only later, when Neville was panting for air and Theodore was rather conspicuously licking white smears from the corners of his mouth that he realised what he had agreed to.
He had been unable to completely mask his confusion and distaste. “A date?” he repeated belatedly. “You want to go on a date?”
Neville’s fingers untangled from his hair as Theodore got to his feet, and he gave Theodore an indolent smile as he rearranged his clothing. “I didn’t mean with flowers and candy and stuff, but I thought it might –- you know, if we did something together it would be nice.”
Theodore snorted. “This isn’t together enough for you?”
Neville flushed. “I mean fully clothed.”
“Would you prefer we do everything fully clothed from now on?” Theodore couldn’t help being somewhat saucy. “That could be interesting.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I see –- and would this be with or without the rest of our year?”
Neville’s face fell, and Theodore sighed. Blaise would be disgusted with him. “I didn’t mean I wouldn’t go; I simply meant that perhaps a little discretion is called for in this matter.”
“Of course,” said Neville hastily. “I just thought that with that special pass to Hogsmeade for our year that it might be nice to do something together –- but if you’ve already got something planned...”
A nerve twitched in Theodore’s temple. Neville wasn’t normally passive-aggressive this way – it was very Slytherin of him, and Theodore crowded Neville against the nearest workstation to distract himself from finishing whatever thought he was about to express.
“It’s fine,” he said snogging Neville lightly. “We can have a date.”
And Neville had smiled.
And Theodore had let it pass, because he could accompany anyone anywhere and be the perfect companion. Except he wasn’t anyone’s companion -- apparently he was someone’s date, which again made a nerve in his temple tic, and he scrubbed at his hair and twitched when Neville's knee brushed against his own underneath the table.
“More tea?” Neville asked when the teapot made a whistling sound. Theodore shook his head and stretched his arms out, letting one rest on the back of Neville’s chair.
“I’m all right, but by all means help yourself.”
Theodore didn’t know a lot about dates, so he wasn’t terribly certain how most went, but he had a rather strong suspicion that they didn’t take place in Madam Paddifoot’s Tea Room. It was a reputable establishment, if not somewhat feminine and tastelessly decorated, but not everyone had Theodore’s discerning tastes. His own mother used to procure her own tea from the Diagon Alley location, so it couldn’t be all bad.
Plus, they were on a ‘date’, a proper date, and it was all very above board and in public, albeit away from their schoolmates. On the face of it, no one could find fault.
It was the sort of outing that any parent would approve of, which Theodore pointed out when he tried to persuade Neville for the twelfth time that it would be all right for Theodore to meet his grandmother despite all that business with his father and the Dark Lord and wanting Harry Potter dead.
In all honesty, Theodore didn’t care what happened to Potter one way or the other, but at least he could see the benefits in keeping him alive. He hadn’t actually said as much to Neville -- only a fool would verbalise such a radical departure from popular Slytherin thought -- but he couldn’t understand Neville’s reticence in Theodore meeting his grandmother. Theodore wasn’t the threat, and he was beginning to feel like some sort of dark secret, which wasn’t sitting well with him at all.
If he could have arranged a meeting without alarming Neville’s grandmother, and by extension the Other side, or winding up being Crucio’d for treason, he would have done so.
As it stood, he could do nothing more that wait on Neville, which meant trusting him, which was not something Theodore did lightly. The whole business was bothersome and put him off his cucumber sandwiches.
When Neville offered him a chocolate biscuit he only nibbled on it, but when Neville beamed at him, he tried to ignore the grumbling in his stomach. He wasn’t terribly into signs and premonitions, but his Aunt Narcissa was, and try as he might, Theodore couldn’t completely disregard the sensation that something was amiss. Very amiss.
When the bells over the door of the teashop tinkled, Neville looked up from the tea he was contemplating and knocked the contents all over the table. The cascade of water soaked all the sandwiches, and Theodore was taken off guard when Neville grabbed his cloak and jerked him to the side, almost disappearing under the table.
“You can’t possibly be about to do what I think you are,” said Theodore as Neville bent at the waist, apparently attempting to cram himself under the tabletop. “Not that I mind, of course, but here?”
The idea of receiving fellatio from Neville in a public place was rather intriguing, but Theodore wasn’t certain how he felt about their first foray into exhibitionism taking place in a tea shop. It was so -- Hufflepuff.
“Oh Merlin’s wand, what’s she doing here?” Neville hissed.
Theodore’s movements were somewhat restrained by the veritable death-grip Neville had on his robe, but he could only presume Neville meant the woman hovering in the entranceway. “She who?”
“My grandmother.” Neville’s voice was extraordinarily low and scratchy, and Theodore’s dick twitched in interest. Perhaps he wasn’t as adverse to fellatio in a tea shop as he’d thought.
“Perhaps she came to buy tea,” said Theodore, attempting to get a better glance at the solid figure of Emily Longbottom standing in the doorway. She was swathed in what Theodore could only assume passed for fashion amongst the Gryffindor set, since most Ravenclaws took great pride in their appearances.
This was the woman who had broken his Great-Uncle Reginald’s nose –- she looked rather sturdy and no-nonsense, apart from the hat on her head.
It was a well-known fact that Emily Longbottom had fought on the side of the Order during Past Events, and according to Neville, the stuffed vulture on his grandmother's favourite hat was actually Regulus Black, Sirius Black's brother, in Animagus form. Theodore had his doubts as to the veracity of this statement, but it said a lot that Neville's grandmother would persist in letting her grandson believe something to this effect. At the very least it said that she was not a woman to be trifled with, nor addressed lightly when in ill-humour, but Theodore had already humoured one person today and that was his maximum for the month.
Alexandria was family and thus didn’t count.
“She could buy her tea in Diagon Alley!” Theodore heard several threads tear on his cloak as Neville refused to relinquish his hold. “Why did she have to come all the way up here? What did I ever do to deserve this?”
Theodore winked. “You met me.”
Neville’s eyes narrowed and Theodore’s cock twitched again. He had never seen Neville angry before -- apparently he found it rather erotic. All the same this sort of cowering before anyone would never do, tugging on Neville gently, Theodore urged him to sit up.
“You didn’t do this, did you?” Neville’s words were muffled by his attempts to keep his head down.
“Unfortunately, I can’t take credit,” Theodore said with mock sadness.
Neville glanced up and scowled, and Theodore’s heart skipped a beat. “Then what –-“
"Neville Francis Longbottom, what are you doing here in the middle of the day?"
The other patrons in the shop glanced up as Emily Longbottom’s booming voice preceded her movements across the room, but they were quick to look away when she paused at Theodore’s table and cleared her throat before fixing them all with a cantankerous stare.
Neville snapped to attention and promptly stood up, but Theodore took more time pulling himself together. “Hello, Grandmother,” said Neville, bowing slightly. “What brings you to Hogsmeade?”
“I think I should be the one asking questions here.” Mrs Longbottom gave a sharp nod of her head, and Neville sat down.
"I - I - I, um," Neville fumbled with his cup and saucer as Theodore fished his wand out of his robes and efficiently cleaned up the mess of soggy sandwiches.
Theodore had never heard Neville so flummoxed, and he made a considerable effort to hide his disdain at this great ponderance hovering before them.
"Speak up, boy," she snapped. "Why are you stuttering so?"
Theodore made no pretense of politeness as he studied the lined-face and wisps of white of hair escaping from underneath Emily Longbottom’s hat. It was a rather morbid looking hat, and true-to-word, the vulture did look rather lifelike, which Theodore found marginally worrisome.
"I was just stu -- studying with a friend." A sliver of anxiety wormed its way into Theodore’s conscious as he took in Neville’s demeanour. Moments ago he had been bright and exuberant, batting away Theodore’s hands underneath the table. Now he was pale and looked as though that one sentence had drained him greatly.
Theodore had heard that Neville was prone to fainting, but this was the first time he felt he was going to experience it firsthand. He produced his most charming smile when Emily Longbottom fixed her narrowed eyes on him.
"In the middle of the school day? If you've taken to skiving off like your Uncle Algie, I assure you you have another thought coming. Longbottoms are not known as shirkers."
"We have a free pass for the afternoon," Neville said hurriedly, and his grandmother's gaze softened fractionally.
"Very well then, can't have two Algies in one family. I was actually up here visiting Sarah Cuthbert’s eldest, Claire, she just had a boy, and since I was in town I decided to stop in an have a cup of tea with Emma and replenish my stock, but since you’re here, I shall visit with you instead. So, who is this friend of yours? Surely I've brought you up to know how to make introductions."
Neville was vibrating with tension; it came off him in waves, and Theodore white-knuckled his wand even as he made to set it on the tabletop. "This is Theodore, Theodore this is my grandmother, Mrs Emily Longbottom."
Theodore pushed back from the table and got to his feet, reluctantly leaving his wand on the table. He very much wanted to fix Neville's grandmother with a good hex, but felt it wouldn't look very well in their first meeting. It would never do to have poor manners in front of Neville's grandmother, no matter how much he already loathed her.
"Theodore Nott," he said, nodding his head slightly but continually maintaining eye-contact. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Longbottom; Neville's told me a lot about you."
If Theodore had found Neville's grandmother sour before it was nothing to the expression on her face when she heard his surname. "Theodore Nott," she said, her voice scaling upwards as though she had just been exposed to something unpleasant. "I should hope you're not the son of Alexander Nott."
Theodore could feel the heat rush to his face. No one had ever dared to speak ill of his family in his presence. "He's my father," he said coldly.
"How unfortunate," Emily Longbottom said. Her tone was kind, but her expression was anything but.
“I beg your pardon, but I hardly think so.” Theodore’s words were crisp and his inflection impeccable. It would never do to let the opposition see him distressed. Or planning their untimely demise.
Mrs Longbottom stared at Theodore for long seconds, and he refused to look away. He could feel Neville tugging on his robes, and yet he would not budge. This woman had insulted his father, and he had hexed people to the point of misery for less. Case in point, ten days ago Justin Finch-Fletchley had fallen victim to a rather unpleasant sexually transmitted curse simply for upsetting Blaise –- and Theodore hadn’t even had to have relations with Finch-Fletchley to cast the spell.
And to think that Draco had scoffed when Pansy had thrown her copy of 103 Ways to Get Back at the Bastard Who Broke Your Heart When He Dumped You For Your Best Mate at his head. Theodore had known it would eventually come in handy
"My father is a good man," said Theodore. He strove to keep his tone even and unfettered by emotion. Notts were not prone to emotional displays, and he couldn't hex Neville's grandmother, that would cause all sorts of problems, but his right hand itched uncontrollably with the urge to do so.
She was a witch; there was no doubt.
"Your mother was a good woman," she said perfunctorily.
Theodore blinked. Emily Longbottom pursed her lips and snapped her fingers, and chintz chair danced over from the corner and stopped right behind her. She sat down and spent several moments arranging herself as Theodore remained standing.
"Theodore, sit down. Please." Neville voice soothed a small number of Theodore's jangled nerves, and he looked down into Neville's extraordinarily worried face and sighed.
Biting the inside of his cheek, Theodore sat down and picked up his wand. The urge was so tempting, so very very tempting, and when he glanced up he found Emily Longbottom looking at him with something very akin to amusement.
Oh, he disliked her greatly.
Offering her his most Draco-like smile, he tapped the pot of tea on the table and waited as the pot, cream and sugar collected themselves for service.
"Black, honey, no cream or sugar," Neville's grandmother said matter-of-factly. The cream and sugar dejectedly wandered back to where they had been and a small plate of lemons appeared with a tiny pop.
"So, you're in the same year as my Neville?" Mrs Longbottom raised a pale eyebrow as she whipped her wand out from the folds of her many robes and tapped the cup and saucer that had materialised before her. "Have you known each other long? He's never mentioned you before."
"We have Herbology together," Neville said.
"Neville Francis, I don't believe I was addressing you."
"He can answer for me." Theodore sat back in his chair and placed his wand on his lap. "I don't mind."
"Indeed? Well, that's certainly a first. Sometimes it takes him so long to answer it would be less trouble to look up whatever I need."
Theodore frowned, even as Mrs Longbottom picked up her tea and sipped it. "Whatever are you children drinking?" she said disdainfully. "This tastes like rotgut."
"It's red tea," Neville said. Theodore glanced at him and felt something in his chest twist; he hadn't thought it possible but Neville looked even paler than he had upon his grandmother's original appearance.
"My mother liked red tea," Theodore said pointedly. His nerves were beginning to fray, and he could feel himself becoming unsettled. He disliked the sensation immensely. "I wanted Neville to try it and see what he thought. He said he liked it."
"I do," Neville added. "It's… different."
"Yes, well, different doesn't necessarily make something better. Give me a cup of Earl Gray any day, and I'm happy," said Mrs Longbottom.
"I want Neville to be happy." Theodore's tone was flat, but he could still feel the heat colouring his face. This afternoon was turning out to be a disaster, and it hadn't even been his suggestion to have tea at Madam Puddifoot's in the first place. He much would have preferred a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, but as that particular place was crawling with fellow sixth-years enjoying the privilege of their afternoon pass into Hogsmeade, they had to make do if they wished to spend time together. Now this sanctimonious old bat was ruining it.
Theodore didn't like resorting to name-calling, but facts were facts.
Neville's grandmother opened her handbag and rummaged around for several moments before extracting a large box and a strainer. The box proved to be empty when she set it on the table and opened it, tapping it twice with her wand she called over her shoulder. "Emma, charge this to my account."
The box filled instantly with tea leaves, and she waved her wand in the direction of the teapot without saying another word. "I changed Neville's nappies when he was small and blew his nose when it ran. I was there when everyone thought he was a Squib and no one rejoiced more than I did when we found out otherwise. I hardly think I need you to tell me what makes him happy," she said as the tea implements went about making her cup of tea.
Theodore's brain swam with the Squib revelation, and he fought not be to waylaid by this new information. "People change," he said simply. "The same things don't always make them happy."
Neville's grandmother said nothing, but instead busied herself with putting away her wand, her box of tea and the cleaned strainer now being offered to her by the teapot. "People don't change," she said after some time. "They just become who they already were."
Theodore opened his mouth to say something and was cut off by Neville.
"That's not true," protested Neville. "I've changed. I've gotten taller and better at some things. I don’t need a Rememberall anymore, and I'm sitting right here; don't talk about me as though I'm not in the room."
"You still can't fly a broom," his grandmother pointed out.
"But that's because I don't want to." Neville rubbed his forehead as his grandmother sipped her new cup of tea. "Yes, I wasn't terribly good at flying when I first started--"
"You broke your wrist," said his grandmother.
"But that doesn't mean that I couldn't learn to if it were something I really wanted."
Emily Longbottom put her tea down and sighed. "Neville, that's not the point. You're a Gryffindor, and you're associating with a Nott. Perhaps the two of you may not care, but other people do."
"But we don't." Neville leaned forward in his chair and rested his arms on the tabletop; and Theodore moved his chair a fraction closer. Neville was vibrating with tension, and underneath the table Theodore placed a reassuring hand on Neville’s thigh.
Mrs Longbottom fixed him with a shrewd stare as though she knew what he was doing. Theodore said nothing. "You're children, you can't possibly know what this means."
"We think we do," said Theodore.
It was hard to ignore the dismissive noise Mrs Longbottom made, but Theodore noticed that Neville looked less deathly and his own face felt more like normal.
"Neville."
"Gran," parroted Neville in the same tone.
Emily Longbottom shook her head and pushed her tea away. "I don't like this."
"You don't have to," Theodore said. He started when Neville kicked him under the table, and he pulled his hand away.
Mrs Longbottom just rolled her eyes. "You children today are so idealistic. You have no idea how hard it is."
Theodore was prepared to say something further but stopped when Neville shot him a dirty look.
"This conversation is not finished," she said, getting to her feet and fixing them with a stern look. "I want that made clear, Neville."
Neville swallowed and nodded.
She turned towards Theodore. "And you, young Mr Nott, if you hurt my grandson, they'll be making me a hat made out of you like they did with Regulus Black, do you hear me?"
Theodore pushed back from the table and stood up. "Yes, ma'am."
Neville's grandmother made a snort of derision. "Yes, well, carry on then, if you must."
The door tinkled as Emily Longbottom departed, and Theodore dropped back into his seat faster than would be considered polite. Blaise had warned him that he was embarking on something impossibly foolhardy and bloody-minded and he hadn't listened. He silently thanked Morgana and Merlin and a cadre of other wizards and witches past that Blaise was not present.
"So," he said as Neville slumped in the seat next to him and ran his hand over his face. "That was your grandmother."
"Yes."
"I think I prefer my dead relatives."
Neville rubbed his eyes. "So do I."
Neville looked as though he’d had years taken off his life, and Theodore found himself crowding himself into Neville’s space without thought.
"You have to look at the bright side,” he said, pulling Neville’s hand away from his face and taking it in his own. “I’ve met your grandmother and no one’s wound up dead or in Azkaban -– in my circles that’s a great success.”
-end-
Title taken from the Oasis song ‘Talk Tonight’ as a thank you to my beater,lalejandra, remaining snafus by me.
** I had planned on making this a piece of a larger section, butserialkarma said it should stand on it’s own. Also, I’m not sure who thought of the Regulus as Emily’s hat thing, I think it was ethrosdemon, but it could have been me. We may have made that one together.
*** The role of Emily Longbottom is being played by Phyllida Law. Random fact: she's Emma Thompson's mum.
**** Nott-verse now has a proper name - The Thousandth Man. Thank you to everyone who voted and everybody who actually reads this. I know I said I wasn’t going to write more until I’d managed to pay attention to another fandom, but well, I told a porkie-pie. Sue me.
lalejandra for her unwavering ability to put up with my very Slytherin petulance and persistence. And as always for circe_tigana, dorrie6 and serialkarma. Harry Potter
Theodore Nott/Neville Longbottom
A Thousandth Man-verse story
Theodore Nott didn’t date.
He wasn’t even terribly certain he knew how to do so.
Obviously, as a part of a certain class of wizard, he had the manners and training required to accompany a person of equal standing to a certain location and provide a certain level of amusement and conversation, should that be required of him. He often visited his acquaintances in their homes and accompanied them on outings, and he suffered no lack of attention from either sex, and yet he couldn’t recall ever being on what popular convention considered a date.
When he was younger his mother had scheduled interactions with other children in his family’s social circle, and when he got older those playmates became a part of his own social circle. Dates weren’t required among Zabinis and Malfoys and Parkinsons, you just did -- and that was that.
All Slytherins simply did -- and perhaps it was because Theodore had stepped out of that inner Slytherin circle that he found himself in this current predicament.
He had been assisting his object of affections, one Neville Longbottom, in Greenhouse One shortly after the post-Winter Break resumption of classes –- if by assisting one meant kissing unabashedly, groping through his robes, and in general, distracting Neville from attending to the Windmilling Willowbelles he was attempting to re-pot.
Neville hadn’t seemed particularly upset by Theodore’s continual distractions, so Theodore hadn’t felt any qualms about interrupting, and he had been attempting to insinuate his hands between Neville’s robes and Neville’s trousers, when Neville had asked him a question to which he had promptly answered ‘yes’ without actually bothering to listen to said question.
At the time Theodore was far more concerned with getting into Neville’s pants than anything else, and it was only later, when Neville was panting for air and Theodore was rather conspicuously licking white smears from the corners of his mouth that he realised what he had agreed to.
He had been unable to completely mask his confusion and distaste. “A date?” he repeated belatedly. “You want to go on a date?”
Neville’s fingers untangled from his hair as Theodore got to his feet, and he gave Theodore an indolent smile as he rearranged his clothing. “I didn’t mean with flowers and candy and stuff, but I thought it might –- you know, if we did something together it would be nice.”
Theodore snorted. “This isn’t together enough for you?”
Neville flushed. “I mean fully clothed.”
“Would you prefer we do everything fully clothed from now on?” Theodore couldn’t help being somewhat saucy. “That could be interesting.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I see –- and would this be with or without the rest of our year?”
Neville’s face fell, and Theodore sighed. Blaise would be disgusted with him. “I didn’t mean I wouldn’t go; I simply meant that perhaps a little discretion is called for in this matter.”
“Of course,” said Neville hastily. “I just thought that with that special pass to Hogsmeade for our year that it might be nice to do something together –- but if you’ve already got something planned...”
A nerve twitched in Theodore’s temple. Neville wasn’t normally passive-aggressive this way – it was very Slytherin of him, and Theodore crowded Neville against the nearest workstation to distract himself from finishing whatever thought he was about to express.
“It’s fine,” he said snogging Neville lightly. “We can have a date.”
And Neville had smiled.
And Theodore had let it pass, because he could accompany anyone anywhere and be the perfect companion. Except he wasn’t anyone’s companion -- apparently he was someone’s date, which again made a nerve in his temple tic, and he scrubbed at his hair and twitched when Neville's knee brushed against his own underneath the table.
“More tea?” Neville asked when the teapot made a whistling sound. Theodore shook his head and stretched his arms out, letting one rest on the back of Neville’s chair.
“I’m all right, but by all means help yourself.”
Theodore didn’t know a lot about dates, so he wasn’t terribly certain how most went, but he had a rather strong suspicion that they didn’t take place in Madam Paddifoot’s Tea Room. It was a reputable establishment, if not somewhat feminine and tastelessly decorated, but not everyone had Theodore’s discerning tastes. His own mother used to procure her own tea from the Diagon Alley location, so it couldn’t be all bad.
Plus, they were on a ‘date’, a proper date, and it was all very above board and in public, albeit away from their schoolmates. On the face of it, no one could find fault.
It was the sort of outing that any parent would approve of, which Theodore pointed out when he tried to persuade Neville for the twelfth time that it would be all right for Theodore to meet his grandmother despite all that business with his father and the Dark Lord and wanting Harry Potter dead.
In all honesty, Theodore didn’t care what happened to Potter one way or the other, but at least he could see the benefits in keeping him alive. He hadn’t actually said as much to Neville -- only a fool would verbalise such a radical departure from popular Slytherin thought -- but he couldn’t understand Neville’s reticence in Theodore meeting his grandmother. Theodore wasn’t the threat, and he was beginning to feel like some sort of dark secret, which wasn’t sitting well with him at all.
If he could have arranged a meeting without alarming Neville’s grandmother, and by extension the Other side, or winding up being Crucio’d for treason, he would have done so.
As it stood, he could do nothing more that wait on Neville, which meant trusting him, which was not something Theodore did lightly. The whole business was bothersome and put him off his cucumber sandwiches.
When Neville offered him a chocolate biscuit he only nibbled on it, but when Neville beamed at him, he tried to ignore the grumbling in his stomach. He wasn’t terribly into signs and premonitions, but his Aunt Narcissa was, and try as he might, Theodore couldn’t completely disregard the sensation that something was amiss. Very amiss.
When the bells over the door of the teashop tinkled, Neville looked up from the tea he was contemplating and knocked the contents all over the table. The cascade of water soaked all the sandwiches, and Theodore was taken off guard when Neville grabbed his cloak and jerked him to the side, almost disappearing under the table.
“You can’t possibly be about to do what I think you are,” said Theodore as Neville bent at the waist, apparently attempting to cram himself under the tabletop. “Not that I mind, of course, but here?”
The idea of receiving fellatio from Neville in a public place was rather intriguing, but Theodore wasn’t certain how he felt about their first foray into exhibitionism taking place in a tea shop. It was so -- Hufflepuff.
“Oh Merlin’s wand, what’s she doing here?” Neville hissed.
Theodore’s movements were somewhat restrained by the veritable death-grip Neville had on his robe, but he could only presume Neville meant the woman hovering in the entranceway. “She who?”
“My grandmother.” Neville’s voice was extraordinarily low and scratchy, and Theodore’s dick twitched in interest. Perhaps he wasn’t as adverse to fellatio in a tea shop as he’d thought.
“Perhaps she came to buy tea,” said Theodore, attempting to get a better glance at the solid figure of Emily Longbottom standing in the doorway. She was swathed in what Theodore could only assume passed for fashion amongst the Gryffindor set, since most Ravenclaws took great pride in their appearances.
This was the woman who had broken his Great-Uncle Reginald’s nose –- she looked rather sturdy and no-nonsense, apart from the hat on her head.
It was a well-known fact that Emily Longbottom had fought on the side of the Order during Past Events, and according to Neville, the stuffed vulture on his grandmother's favourite hat was actually Regulus Black, Sirius Black's brother, in Animagus form. Theodore had his doubts as to the veracity of this statement, but it said a lot that Neville's grandmother would persist in letting her grandson believe something to this effect. At the very least it said that she was not a woman to be trifled with, nor addressed lightly when in ill-humour, but Theodore had already humoured one person today and that was his maximum for the month.
Alexandria was family and thus didn’t count.
“She could buy her tea in Diagon Alley!” Theodore heard several threads tear on his cloak as Neville refused to relinquish his hold. “Why did she have to come all the way up here? What did I ever do to deserve this?”
Theodore winked. “You met me.”
Neville’s eyes narrowed and Theodore’s cock twitched again. He had never seen Neville angry before -- apparently he found it rather erotic. All the same this sort of cowering before anyone would never do, tugging on Neville gently, Theodore urged him to sit up.
“You didn’t do this, did you?” Neville’s words were muffled by his attempts to keep his head down.
“Unfortunately, I can’t take credit,” Theodore said with mock sadness.
Neville glanced up and scowled, and Theodore’s heart skipped a beat. “Then what –-“
"Neville Francis Longbottom, what are you doing here in the middle of the day?"
The other patrons in the shop glanced up as Emily Longbottom’s booming voice preceded her movements across the room, but they were quick to look away when she paused at Theodore’s table and cleared her throat before fixing them all with a cantankerous stare.
Neville snapped to attention and promptly stood up, but Theodore took more time pulling himself together. “Hello, Grandmother,” said Neville, bowing slightly. “What brings you to Hogsmeade?”
“I think I should be the one asking questions here.” Mrs Longbottom gave a sharp nod of her head, and Neville sat down.
"I - I - I, um," Neville fumbled with his cup and saucer as Theodore fished his wand out of his robes and efficiently cleaned up the mess of soggy sandwiches.
Theodore had never heard Neville so flummoxed, and he made a considerable effort to hide his disdain at this great ponderance hovering before them.
"Speak up, boy," she snapped. "Why are you stuttering so?"
Theodore made no pretense of politeness as he studied the lined-face and wisps of white of hair escaping from underneath Emily Longbottom’s hat. It was a rather morbid looking hat, and true-to-word, the vulture did look rather lifelike, which Theodore found marginally worrisome.
"I was just stu -- studying with a friend." A sliver of anxiety wormed its way into Theodore’s conscious as he took in Neville’s demeanour. Moments ago he had been bright and exuberant, batting away Theodore’s hands underneath the table. Now he was pale and looked as though that one sentence had drained him greatly.
Theodore had heard that Neville was prone to fainting, but this was the first time he felt he was going to experience it firsthand. He produced his most charming smile when Emily Longbottom fixed her narrowed eyes on him.
"In the middle of the school day? If you've taken to skiving off like your Uncle Algie, I assure you you have another thought coming. Longbottoms are not known as shirkers."
"We have a free pass for the afternoon," Neville said hurriedly, and his grandmother's gaze softened fractionally.
"Very well then, can't have two Algies in one family. I was actually up here visiting Sarah Cuthbert’s eldest, Claire, she just had a boy, and since I was in town I decided to stop in an have a cup of tea with Emma and replenish my stock, but since you’re here, I shall visit with you instead. So, who is this friend of yours? Surely I've brought you up to know how to make introductions."
Neville was vibrating with tension; it came off him in waves, and Theodore white-knuckled his wand even as he made to set it on the tabletop. "This is Theodore, Theodore this is my grandmother, Mrs Emily Longbottom."
Theodore pushed back from the table and got to his feet, reluctantly leaving his wand on the table. He very much wanted to fix Neville's grandmother with a good hex, but felt it wouldn't look very well in their first meeting. It would never do to have poor manners in front of Neville's grandmother, no matter how much he already loathed her.
"Theodore Nott," he said, nodding his head slightly but continually maintaining eye-contact. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Longbottom; Neville's told me a lot about you."
If Theodore had found Neville's grandmother sour before it was nothing to the expression on her face when she heard his surname. "Theodore Nott," she said, her voice scaling upwards as though she had just been exposed to something unpleasant. "I should hope you're not the son of Alexander Nott."
Theodore could feel the heat rush to his face. No one had ever dared to speak ill of his family in his presence. "He's my father," he said coldly.
"How unfortunate," Emily Longbottom said. Her tone was kind, but her expression was anything but.
“I beg your pardon, but I hardly think so.” Theodore’s words were crisp and his inflection impeccable. It would never do to let the opposition see him distressed. Or planning their untimely demise.
Mrs Longbottom stared at Theodore for long seconds, and he refused to look away. He could feel Neville tugging on his robes, and yet he would not budge. This woman had insulted his father, and he had hexed people to the point of misery for less. Case in point, ten days ago Justin Finch-Fletchley had fallen victim to a rather unpleasant sexually transmitted curse simply for upsetting Blaise –- and Theodore hadn’t even had to have relations with Finch-Fletchley to cast the spell.
And to think that Draco had scoffed when Pansy had thrown her copy of 103 Ways to Get Back at the Bastard Who Broke Your Heart When He Dumped You For Your Best Mate at his head. Theodore had known it would eventually come in handy
"My father is a good man," said Theodore. He strove to keep his tone even and unfettered by emotion. Notts were not prone to emotional displays, and he couldn't hex Neville's grandmother, that would cause all sorts of problems, but his right hand itched uncontrollably with the urge to do so.
She was a witch; there was no doubt.
"Your mother was a good woman," she said perfunctorily.
Theodore blinked. Emily Longbottom pursed her lips and snapped her fingers, and chintz chair danced over from the corner and stopped right behind her. She sat down and spent several moments arranging herself as Theodore remained standing.
"Theodore, sit down. Please." Neville voice soothed a small number of Theodore's jangled nerves, and he looked down into Neville's extraordinarily worried face and sighed.
Biting the inside of his cheek, Theodore sat down and picked up his wand. The urge was so tempting, so very very tempting, and when he glanced up he found Emily Longbottom looking at him with something very akin to amusement.
Oh, he disliked her greatly.
Offering her his most Draco-like smile, he tapped the pot of tea on the table and waited as the pot, cream and sugar collected themselves for service.
"Black, honey, no cream or sugar," Neville's grandmother said matter-of-factly. The cream and sugar dejectedly wandered back to where they had been and a small plate of lemons appeared with a tiny pop.
"So, you're in the same year as my Neville?" Mrs Longbottom raised a pale eyebrow as she whipped her wand out from the folds of her many robes and tapped the cup and saucer that had materialised before her. "Have you known each other long? He's never mentioned you before."
"We have Herbology together," Neville said.
"Neville Francis, I don't believe I was addressing you."
"He can answer for me." Theodore sat back in his chair and placed his wand on his lap. "I don't mind."
"Indeed? Well, that's certainly a first. Sometimes it takes him so long to answer it would be less trouble to look up whatever I need."
Theodore frowned, even as Mrs Longbottom picked up her tea and sipped it. "Whatever are you children drinking?" she said disdainfully. "This tastes like rotgut."
"It's red tea," Neville said. Theodore glanced at him and felt something in his chest twist; he hadn't thought it possible but Neville looked even paler than he had upon his grandmother's original appearance.
"My mother liked red tea," Theodore said pointedly. His nerves were beginning to fray, and he could feel himself becoming unsettled. He disliked the sensation immensely. "I wanted Neville to try it and see what he thought. He said he liked it."
"I do," Neville added. "It's… different."
"Yes, well, different doesn't necessarily make something better. Give me a cup of Earl Gray any day, and I'm happy," said Mrs Longbottom.
"I want Neville to be happy." Theodore's tone was flat, but he could still feel the heat colouring his face. This afternoon was turning out to be a disaster, and it hadn't even been his suggestion to have tea at Madam Puddifoot's in the first place. He much would have preferred a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, but as that particular place was crawling with fellow sixth-years enjoying the privilege of their afternoon pass into Hogsmeade, they had to make do if they wished to spend time together. Now this sanctimonious old bat was ruining it.
Theodore didn't like resorting to name-calling, but facts were facts.
Neville's grandmother opened her handbag and rummaged around for several moments before extracting a large box and a strainer. The box proved to be empty when she set it on the table and opened it, tapping it twice with her wand she called over her shoulder. "Emma, charge this to my account."
The box filled instantly with tea leaves, and she waved her wand in the direction of the teapot without saying another word. "I changed Neville's nappies when he was small and blew his nose when it ran. I was there when everyone thought he was a Squib and no one rejoiced more than I did when we found out otherwise. I hardly think I need you to tell me what makes him happy," she said as the tea implements went about making her cup of tea.
Theodore's brain swam with the Squib revelation, and he fought not be to waylaid by this new information. "People change," he said simply. "The same things don't always make them happy."
Neville's grandmother said nothing, but instead busied herself with putting away her wand, her box of tea and the cleaned strainer now being offered to her by the teapot. "People don't change," she said after some time. "They just become who they already were."
Theodore opened his mouth to say something and was cut off by Neville.
"That's not true," protested Neville. "I've changed. I've gotten taller and better at some things. I don’t need a Rememberall anymore, and I'm sitting right here; don't talk about me as though I'm not in the room."
"You still can't fly a broom," his grandmother pointed out.
"But that's because I don't want to." Neville rubbed his forehead as his grandmother sipped her new cup of tea. "Yes, I wasn't terribly good at flying when I first started--"
"You broke your wrist," said his grandmother.
"But that doesn't mean that I couldn't learn to if it were something I really wanted."
Emily Longbottom put her tea down and sighed. "Neville, that's not the point. You're a Gryffindor, and you're associating with a Nott. Perhaps the two of you may not care, but other people do."
"But we don't." Neville leaned forward in his chair and rested his arms on the tabletop; and Theodore moved his chair a fraction closer. Neville was vibrating with tension, and underneath the table Theodore placed a reassuring hand on Neville’s thigh.
Mrs Longbottom fixed him with a shrewd stare as though she knew what he was doing. Theodore said nothing. "You're children, you can't possibly know what this means."
"We think we do," said Theodore.
It was hard to ignore the dismissive noise Mrs Longbottom made, but Theodore noticed that Neville looked less deathly and his own face felt more like normal.
"Neville."
"Gran," parroted Neville in the same tone.
Emily Longbottom shook her head and pushed her tea away. "I don't like this."
"You don't have to," Theodore said. He started when Neville kicked him under the table, and he pulled his hand away.
Mrs Longbottom just rolled her eyes. "You children today are so idealistic. You have no idea how hard it is."
Theodore was prepared to say something further but stopped when Neville shot him a dirty look.
"This conversation is not finished," she said, getting to her feet and fixing them with a stern look. "I want that made clear, Neville."
Neville swallowed and nodded.
She turned towards Theodore. "And you, young Mr Nott, if you hurt my grandson, they'll be making me a hat made out of you like they did with Regulus Black, do you hear me?"
Theodore pushed back from the table and stood up. "Yes, ma'am."
Neville's grandmother made a snort of derision. "Yes, well, carry on then, if you must."
The door tinkled as Emily Longbottom departed, and Theodore dropped back into his seat faster than would be considered polite. Blaise had warned him that he was embarking on something impossibly foolhardy and bloody-minded and he hadn't listened. He silently thanked Morgana and Merlin and a cadre of other wizards and witches past that Blaise was not present.
"So," he said as Neville slumped in the seat next to him and ran his hand over his face. "That was your grandmother."
"Yes."
"I think I prefer my dead relatives."
Neville rubbed his eyes. "So do I."
Neville looked as though he’d had years taken off his life, and Theodore found himself crowding himself into Neville’s space without thought.
"You have to look at the bright side,” he said, pulling Neville’s hand away from his face and taking it in his own. “I’ve met your grandmother and no one’s wound up dead or in Azkaban -– in my circles that’s a great success.”
-end-
Title taken from the Oasis song ‘Talk Tonight’ as a thank you to my beater,
lalejandra, remaining snafus by me.** I had planned on making this a piece of a larger section, but
serialkarma said it should stand on it’s own. Also, I’m not sure who thought of the Regulus as Emily’s hat thing, I think it was ethrosdemon, but it could have been me. We may have made that one together. *** The role of Emily Longbottom is being played by Phyllida Law. Random fact: she's Emma Thompson's mum.
**** Nott-verse now has a proper name - The Thousandth Man. Thank you to everyone who voted and everybody who actually reads this. I know I said I wasn’t going to write more until I’d managed to pay attention to another fandom, but well, I told a porkie-pie. Sue me.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-11-12 03:04 pm (UTC)