hackthis_archive (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hackthis_archive) wrote2005-06-28 12:13 pm
hackthis_archive) wrote2005-06-28 12:13 pm
HP - Like Spinning Plates and Political Scientists
For ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
serialkarma, who wanted to know if I could write Neville/Theodore porn that wasn't part of 1000th-Man verse. I know this isn't quite what you requested, but I'm a bit out of practise.
Harry Potter
Neville Longbottom/Theodore Nott, Neville Longbottom/Harry Potter
Rated PAD for porn, angst and death. Not necessarily in that order.
Like Spinning Plates and Political Scientists
1.
It's the panting that gets Neville every time; Theodore always does his best to keep quiet, but it never completely works. Theodore buries his face in the wall and scrabbles at the crumbling bricks as Neville drives into him, skin against skin, with Neville's fingers squeezing bruises into pureblooded skin. Neville's watched Theodore bite down on his own fist hard enough to draw blood, and he's seen Theodore stuff the hem of his shirt in his mouth to keep his noises muffled. Neville supposes this need for control must be a Slytherin thing; he doesn't approve. Control is just an illusion anyway, and that makes him try just that bit harder. His thrusts become more punishing, or his hand tightens on Theodore's cock, or he sucks just that little bit more. Sometimes he bites down too hard. He doesn't apologise. He never apologises, and Theodore doesn't ask. They're far beyond such pleasantries anyway.
2.
Neville's knees don't bruise as easily as they did in the beginning. There's something about the repeated abuse of being slammed against bathroom walls and kneeling on dirty floors that his body has begun to acclimate to. He doesn't think too hard about it when he's sucking Theodore Nott's cock or when he's leaving scratches and bruises on Theodore's pale inner thighs.
Week after week, Neville leaves new bruises on top of Theodore's old ones. He doesn't wonder why Theodore never covers them over. He certainly doesn't ask about them. No one else would understand, but Neville understands, because he carries the same scars and the same bruises, too. He doesn't look at his old scars, but he studies the new ones voraciously. Sometimes he'll find himself absently rubbing a sore patch on his forearm in the middle of the day. He wears long sleeves year-round. Lavender assumes it's because of the scars, but Neville's not ashamed of his scars. He earned them.
3.
They meet every Wednesday at a Muggle bar in King's Cross called Filthy McNasty's. It's called something else now, but to Neville it's always been called Filthy McNasty's Whiskey Bar. Apparently it's owned by some infamous Muggle rock stars, but Neville's never been into Muggle punk, that was always Harry's thing. Harry's gone now, though, and Neville doesn't look through Harry's things anymore. Hermione gave him a large crate of Harry's vinyl albums after the war ended. He doesn't know how she came to have them. He doesn't know when Harry found the time to appropriate such a large collection. He'll never know now. He doesn't think about Harry much these days; he's grown tired of mourning the dead.
4.
Afterwards, they wash their hands in silence. Obviously, it would be far easier if they simply pulled out their wands and cast a simple Scourgify on their clothing, but there's an unspoken rule between them: No Wands, No Magic, No Nothing About That Other Life.
5.
They leave the toilet separately. They always leave separately. If the Muggles know what they're doing locked away in that dank, noisome toilet they don't say, and since Neville never makes eye contact, he doesn't have to deal with the dubious stares. Sometimes all it takes is one wrong look to push him over the edge.
6.
Theodore Nott has pale skin and freckles across his nose. He has spidering scars across his abdomen from where, he says, he had a run-in with a Muggle's pitchfork. Neville didn't even know that Theodore knew what a pitchfork was. Neville doesn't wonder about the Muggle. He's done with trying to save everyone. He's going to just look after himself from now on. He wonders if that's what Theodore thinks as well. They don't ever really talk about anything, that's why this works. They meet and make small talk over a pint or two, and then they carry on with business.
7.
It's a Wednesday just like the other fifty-one of the year. It could be spring, or autumn. Maybe it's summer. Neville doesn't pay much attention these days. He has a tiny nursery in Islington, and he walks to the bar on Wednesdays from there. Theodore is waiting even though Neville isn't late. Theodore is always there before Neville, though. Neville sometimes wonders what Theodore does with his life, but he can't really bring himself to ask. War has made everything much more irrelevant in his life. He sits down across from Theodore and takes a sip of his pint before nodding hello. Theodore's wearing a green shirt. He always wears green or grey. He never wears anything else.
"What did you want to be when you grew up?" Theodore asks, his blue eyes considering Neville steadily.
"Alive," Neville says. He doesn't remember wanting anything else anymore.
Theodore doesn't say anything else, but his left eye twitches under Neville's stare, so Neville takes him into the alley and lets Theodore fuck him until neither one of them can remember life before this.
8.
Neville is always surprised by his reflection, blank eyes with dark hollows and limp brown hair that's always slightly too long. He wonders what anyone could ever see in him sometimes, and then he looks at the scars on his forearms and thinks that this is what Harry lived with all the time. Everyone wants to be with the hero, but Neville's not a hero on the inside. He's just rage and emptiness and the little spark of life that comes alive every Wednesday night.
9.
When Neville was small, his gran used to dry dishes by throwing them at the ceiling and charming them to spin the water away. He would sit in his high chair and watch the way the water spun off into nothingness for hours. When he got older, he always wondered why the errant drops never landed on him. His gran said it was magic. She said everything was magic. She said anything that wasn't magic was wrong. She never had much use for Muggles, but she had even less use for You Know Who. Neville wonders why people never talk about the fact that not all Muggles are good or that not all of Voldemort's ideas were bad. He wonders why people never want to talk about anything until it's too late and everyone else is dead and gone. There's no place for regret in Neville's life anymore.
10.
Neville knows there are people who like to pretend that the war never happened, just as he knows there are people who consider Harry a hero, but Neville is neither of these. Neville was there when the entire world turned green, and it rained blood from the trees. He knows that Harry had to die just as You Know Who had to go. Too much power is a bad thing for all parties involved, and if Harry were alive, Neville would still be reduced to fucking Slytherins in back alleys. Harry was his mate, and once upon a long time ago, they had something special, but Harry was far too damaged to ever get out of the war alive.
11.
Fucking Theodore Nott is like being someone else. It's like Neville is someone who can still feel emotions inside, like hope and love and lust and happiness. Every twist of Neville's hips and every dry kiss that he steals when he tells himself this isn't anything serious is like not being dead on the inside. When they come together, with sweat and heat and anger and the weight of loss sitting beside them, Neville thinks that this is what life is supposed to be about –- not the nightmares and the wards that keep everyone out and no one in. Slick fingers and hard cocks and someone else just as fucked up as he is is what Neville craves more than anything else at this time in his life.
So every Wednesday, at 6:05 in the evening, he locks up the nursery, and makes his way to King's Cross where he will fuck, and be fucked, and where he will touch bare skin and feel like someone who is actually twenty-five.
-end-
Ah, we loves Filthy McNasty's Whiskey Bar, yes precious.
Beta byethrosdemon
serialkarma, who wanted to know if I could write Neville/Theodore porn that wasn't part of 1000th-Man verse. I know this isn't quite what you requested, but I'm a bit out of practise.Harry Potter
Neville Longbottom/Theodore Nott, Neville Longbottom/Harry Potter
Rated PAD for porn, angst and death. Not necessarily in that order.
1.
It's the panting that gets Neville every time; Theodore always does his best to keep quiet, but it never completely works. Theodore buries his face in the wall and scrabbles at the crumbling bricks as Neville drives into him, skin against skin, with Neville's fingers squeezing bruises into pureblooded skin. Neville's watched Theodore bite down on his own fist hard enough to draw blood, and he's seen Theodore stuff the hem of his shirt in his mouth to keep his noises muffled. Neville supposes this need for control must be a Slytherin thing; he doesn't approve. Control is just an illusion anyway, and that makes him try just that bit harder. His thrusts become more punishing, or his hand tightens on Theodore's cock, or he sucks just that little bit more. Sometimes he bites down too hard. He doesn't apologise. He never apologises, and Theodore doesn't ask. They're far beyond such pleasantries anyway.
2.
Neville's knees don't bruise as easily as they did in the beginning. There's something about the repeated abuse of being slammed against bathroom walls and kneeling on dirty floors that his body has begun to acclimate to. He doesn't think too hard about it when he's sucking Theodore Nott's cock or when he's leaving scratches and bruises on Theodore's pale inner thighs.
Week after week, Neville leaves new bruises on top of Theodore's old ones. He doesn't wonder why Theodore never covers them over. He certainly doesn't ask about them. No one else would understand, but Neville understands, because he carries the same scars and the same bruises, too. He doesn't look at his old scars, but he studies the new ones voraciously. Sometimes he'll find himself absently rubbing a sore patch on his forearm in the middle of the day. He wears long sleeves year-round. Lavender assumes it's because of the scars, but Neville's not ashamed of his scars. He earned them.
3.
They meet every Wednesday at a Muggle bar in King's Cross called Filthy McNasty's. It's called something else now, but to Neville it's always been called Filthy McNasty's Whiskey Bar. Apparently it's owned by some infamous Muggle rock stars, but Neville's never been into Muggle punk, that was always Harry's thing. Harry's gone now, though, and Neville doesn't look through Harry's things anymore. Hermione gave him a large crate of Harry's vinyl albums after the war ended. He doesn't know how she came to have them. He doesn't know when Harry found the time to appropriate such a large collection. He'll never know now. He doesn't think about Harry much these days; he's grown tired of mourning the dead.
4.
Afterwards, they wash their hands in silence. Obviously, it would be far easier if they simply pulled out their wands and cast a simple Scourgify on their clothing, but there's an unspoken rule between them: No Wands, No Magic, No Nothing About That Other Life.
5.
They leave the toilet separately. They always leave separately. If the Muggles know what they're doing locked away in that dank, noisome toilet they don't say, and since Neville never makes eye contact, he doesn't have to deal with the dubious stares. Sometimes all it takes is one wrong look to push him over the edge.
6.
Theodore Nott has pale skin and freckles across his nose. He has spidering scars across his abdomen from where, he says, he had a run-in with a Muggle's pitchfork. Neville didn't even know that Theodore knew what a pitchfork was. Neville doesn't wonder about the Muggle. He's done with trying to save everyone. He's going to just look after himself from now on. He wonders if that's what Theodore thinks as well. They don't ever really talk about anything, that's why this works. They meet and make small talk over a pint or two, and then they carry on with business.
7.
It's a Wednesday just like the other fifty-one of the year. It could be spring, or autumn. Maybe it's summer. Neville doesn't pay much attention these days. He has a tiny nursery in Islington, and he walks to the bar on Wednesdays from there. Theodore is waiting even though Neville isn't late. Theodore is always there before Neville, though. Neville sometimes wonders what Theodore does with his life, but he can't really bring himself to ask. War has made everything much more irrelevant in his life. He sits down across from Theodore and takes a sip of his pint before nodding hello. Theodore's wearing a green shirt. He always wears green or grey. He never wears anything else.
"What did you want to be when you grew up?" Theodore asks, his blue eyes considering Neville steadily.
"Alive," Neville says. He doesn't remember wanting anything else anymore.
Theodore doesn't say anything else, but his left eye twitches under Neville's stare, so Neville takes him into the alley and lets Theodore fuck him until neither one of them can remember life before this.
8.
Neville is always surprised by his reflection, blank eyes with dark hollows and limp brown hair that's always slightly too long. He wonders what anyone could ever see in him sometimes, and then he looks at the scars on his forearms and thinks that this is what Harry lived with all the time. Everyone wants to be with the hero, but Neville's not a hero on the inside. He's just rage and emptiness and the little spark of life that comes alive every Wednesday night.
9.
When Neville was small, his gran used to dry dishes by throwing them at the ceiling and charming them to spin the water away. He would sit in his high chair and watch the way the water spun off into nothingness for hours. When he got older, he always wondered why the errant drops never landed on him. His gran said it was magic. She said everything was magic. She said anything that wasn't magic was wrong. She never had much use for Muggles, but she had even less use for You Know Who. Neville wonders why people never talk about the fact that not all Muggles are good or that not all of Voldemort's ideas were bad. He wonders why people never want to talk about anything until it's too late and everyone else is dead and gone. There's no place for regret in Neville's life anymore.
10.
Neville knows there are people who like to pretend that the war never happened, just as he knows there are people who consider Harry a hero, but Neville is neither of these. Neville was there when the entire world turned green, and it rained blood from the trees. He knows that Harry had to die just as You Know Who had to go. Too much power is a bad thing for all parties involved, and if Harry were alive, Neville would still be reduced to fucking Slytherins in back alleys. Harry was his mate, and once upon a long time ago, they had something special, but Harry was far too damaged to ever get out of the war alive.
11.
Fucking Theodore Nott is like being someone else. It's like Neville is someone who can still feel emotions inside, like hope and love and lust and happiness. Every twist of Neville's hips and every dry kiss that he steals when he tells himself this isn't anything serious is like not being dead on the inside. When they come together, with sweat and heat and anger and the weight of loss sitting beside them, Neville thinks that this is what life is supposed to be about –- not the nightmares and the wards that keep everyone out and no one in. Slick fingers and hard cocks and someone else just as fucked up as he is is what Neville craves more than anything else at this time in his life.
So every Wednesday, at 6:05 in the evening, he locks up the nursery, and makes his way to King's Cross where he will fuck, and be fucked, and where he will touch bare skin and feel like someone who is actually twenty-five.
-end-
Ah, we loves Filthy McNasty's Whiskey Bar, yes precious.
Beta by
ethrosdemon
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It's the panting that gets Neville every time; Theodore always does his best to keep quiet, but it never completely works. Theodore buries his face in the wall and scrabbles at the crumbling bricks as Neville drives into him, skin against skin, with Neville's fingers squeezing bruises into pureblooded skin.
oh, guh.
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This is such an interesting shift in the Neville/Theodore dynamic, a darkness that is hinted at in the Thousandth Man verse as a possible direction their relationship could go in, but this is all about need rather than love, and the whole tone feels vitally different.
The last section is my favorite, since it encapsulates what war is really about. It isn't about glory or glamor. It is about desperation, and feeling alive can only come through a desperate act now.
Truly stunning.
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"Alive," Neville says.
Oh! I love that, this is a great story.
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I love that its war!fic. I love the darkness and desperation and the need that drives them to that point. You've done a spectacular job with this, but you always do. The fact that Neville has a regular job and owns a nursery is so Neville and nearly quaint, but not quite when you consider what he does in those dark corners and dirty stalls. Theodore is such a mystery too. What does he do besides fuck Neville up against walls and be fucked by Neville on the ground? Who knows? I would like to know but I like the mystery. Oh Theodore! ♥ I love the dirt and dirtiness and the bruises and scrapes and pain.
I hope someone else challenges you to do this again soon. I do so love your Neville and Theodore. No one writes them quite like you do.
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Yes, I've done quite a bit of that Real Potter Slash, and this pairing has a special place in my heart. Anytime you write 100+ pages of something it should have a special place somewhere...
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I love your Neville here. He's so obviously matured and roughened by the war and everything he's seen but he's still kind of fragile beneath. And I love how we got inside Theo's head so much in 1000th Man and how he's very distant in this story, almost just like an object.
And I love this part like a silly little thing:
"What did you want to be when you grew up?" Theodore asks, his blue eyes considering Neville steadily.
"Alive," Neville says. He doesn't remember wanting anything else anymore.
It makes me feel this emotion I can't even describe. Pity, love, amusement, sadness, amazement.. A mix of all of those, I guess.
Oh, and the Harry parts where nice, too. I have a special place in my heart for that pairing.
Out of topic, but I had to mention this: I just got myself "Cast of Thousands" by Elbow and since I first saw this band mentioned in your LJ, I thought I'd thank you. Because you have an excellent taste in boys & music. I really like this album and I've only listened to it twice.
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*makes Cillian icons now*
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oh
and I never doubt, wench. how could i?
Rated PAD for porn, angst and death.
Best.Rating.EVER.
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Goooorgeous. I especially liked
"What did you want to be when you grew up?" Theodore asks, his blue eyes considering Neville steadily.
"Alive," Neville says. He doesn't remember wanting anything else anymore.
What a way with words. BEAUTIFUL, and I mean it.
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Oh. Neville.
"What did you want to be when you grew up?" Theodore asks, his blue eyes considering Neville steadily.
"Alive," Neville says. He doesn't remember wanting anything else anymore.
Wow.
Harry was far too damaged to ever get out of the war alive.
Too true.
I missed Neville/Theodore. I just didn't realize it.
Now I imagine Harry going to Filthy McNasty's while Pete Doherty was working behind the bar.
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Priceless.
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They're both so misunderstood. The angst, the pain.
The sex.I so did not just type that.
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given a prizebanned!no subject
Yay!
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omgd
*strains for coherency*
I think I love you.
Guh...
Naturally, being human, there is an exception to this: the work by AJ Hall. I freely admit to adoring Ms. Hall's work and hoping one day, should I ever grow up, that I might possibly see my way clear to writing one third as well. *Hopes that
This is going to be added to that list of 'stories that made me go 'well, shit, so -that's- what I'm trying to do. No wonder it's all fucked when I do it. It's utter crap when it comes out of my keyboard.'
I haven't read 1000th man, I have no idea who Theodore is. As a general rule, dark and war-y fic is something I try to avoid so as to keep my innate depressive tendencies in check. I have not even finished reading all of the books and fully intend to wait until Half-Blood Prince is in paperback before acquiring.
This was fucking spectacular.
Thank you.
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Neville was there when the entire world turned green is just gorgeous.
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I feel like I'm losing my touch with feedback, as with so many things. But this fic really rang true to me, for Neville and everyone else. On a rather silly note, I always love Neville or Harry fic that implies a previous relationship between them. I admit that I secretly have my own personal HP fanon canon, and though I'll read just about anything, I get a special kick out of stories that accidentally fall into it.
I'm going to stop now, because everything sounds idiotic. But I am so happy to have read this. Thank you for providing it. :)
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