Title: There
Author: coffee_n_cocoa
Pairing: Neville/Ginny
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Kinks: Slight underage (Neville is 17, Ginny is 16).
Word Count: about 1400
Fake Spoiler/prompt: While Harry, Ron, and Hermione are off searching for Horcruxes, Neville hooks up with Ginny.
Authors' notes: It's my het OTP. I couldn't resist!

There

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

Sometimes, late at night, Ginny licks her lips and imagines she can still taste Harry, feel the pressure of his mouth on hers. It’s a remembered sensation that becomes ever more ghostly as the weeks and months pass and things at Hogwarts grows more difficult.

Neville, in contrast, is warm and real, his voice soft and his touch comforting while his hands rub and knead at the knotted muscle of her shoulder, still twitching from the effects of the Cruciatus curse Alecto Carrow subjected her to earlier in the evening. It’s not the first time he’s done this for her, nor will it be the last.

She’s done the same for him, as well.

She never thought when she returned to school that Snape would be the new Headmaster, that Death Eaters would be professors, that beatings and Unforgivable curses would become a regular part of detention. She never thought she and Neville and Luna would become leaders of rebels.

“Better?” Neville asks, palms warm against her skin, and she nods, looking up and meeting his eyes, too old for such a round face.

“Better, thank you.” Her voice is soft, leaning into him as his arms go around her, holding her close, his lips brushing over her forehead. Ginny’s eyes squeeze shut, savouring Neville’s solidity, feeling something remotely resembling safety for the first time that day. She turns in his arms, hands going to the top button of his shirt, slipping it through the buttonhole.

He whispers, “Ginny,” his mouth coming down on hers, the kiss gentle, soft, caring as he always is, as he always has been. She’d been too blind to see it, before. Her lips part instinctively, granting him access, mouths slanting in a quickening storm of need. His hands trace the lines of her body as he undresses her, fingertips skimming tantalisingly over her skin and she moans deep in her throat even as she finishes unbuttoning his shirt and pushes it from his shoulders. Neville’s echo reverberates through her; and the need to show him how much she loves him creating a pleasant hum in her veins.

“Love you…” Neville whispers, his lips trailing down the soft skin of Ginny’s throat. She moans softly in response, her hand closing around his cock, feeling it harden beneath her touch, hears his sharp intake of breath as he struggles to maintain control.

“Gentle,” Ginny murmurs, falling back into the pillows. “I need you to be gentle…”

“Gentle,” he agrees, his fingers dancing over her small breasts, teasing her nipples to hard points. Her head tilts backward, revelling in the sensations he coaxes from her.

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" he asks quietly. Neville always tells her how beautiful she is, how strong, how capable and clever she is, even on days like today when she feels anything but.

"I'm not..." Her voice trails into another moan as he captures a nipple between his lips, suckling the hard point, nibbling and then laving it with the flat of his tongue. He moves back and forth, feasting on her, obviously relishing her moans, her soft cries.

Ginny’s hips push against his as Neville’s fingertips graze up and down her side and across her belly. She shivers against him and her name escapes his lips.

"You are beautiful, Ginny, so beautiful..." He lifts his head from her breast, meeting her eyes, the light in them brilliant, shining. “Do you have any idea how amazing you are? I wouldn’t be able to do this, any of this, without your help. I need you, so much.”

Neville’s stomach tightens, the muscles quivering beneath Ginny’s touch as she runs her hands across his abdomen, along his chest and back down. Her hand closes around him, her grip firm as she begins stroking the length of his cock. He groans her name, eyelids fluttering closed as he slides his hand down her belly and between her legs.

Merlin, she’s wet, so wet, so ready and aching for his touch as his fingers slide through her folds, circling and teasing the slick flesh around her clit. Ginny’s breath catches, her strokes along Neville’s cock becoming bolder, more insistent.

There is a difference in their lovemaking tonight, Ginny realises. It’s no longer the simple desire for a comforting touch after a bad day. She needs him like she needs air to breathe, she can no longer imagine a life without him. She wants only to share and have him share himself with her. They are partners, equals in every sense, his patience tempering her more reckless impulses, her encouragement bringing the leader from him, the one everyone looks to for the strength she’s always known was hidden within.

Neville slides a finger inside her, his thumb brushing over her clit. Ginny rocks in time with his hand, her eyes locking with his.

"Please, I need you...I need you so much..." Ginny’s head falls back in compliance, and Neville claims her lips in a soft kiss, teasing her lips apart with his tongue, exploring her fully until she’s gasping into his mouth, hips rocking harder and faster against his hand. She comes with a muffled cry, shattering around him, his thumb still circling her clit until she slumps against him, pulling her lips from his and taking his face between her hands.

"I want you inside me." Wants, needs, it no longer matters. Neville belongs to her, and she to him, and what they share is something the Carrows can never understand or take away.

Neville nods his assent, letting her push him back into the pillows. She raises herself over him, smiling when he bites his lip. She lowers herself onto him, hearing his breathing catch as he struggles against the need to thrust his hips up to meet her.

They make love, slowly. Neville lets her guide their pace and she lowers herself to kiss him, her breasts brushing his chest. He can't stifle the groan that escapes, still battling against the need to plunge inside her, to claim her as she claims him.

"Only you, Ginny." His voice is rough, urgent with need.

He takes her hands in his own, and their fingers entwine as she increases her movements up and down the length of his cock. She’s so wet around him, tightening around him as she rides him, her vision hazed, fogged with encroaching climax.

"Only you, Ginny," he repeats, his gaze locked an intent upon hers.

She feels connected to Neville in a way she never felt with Harry, or with Dean before him. The emotion between them is almost tangible. She feels as though she could reach out and touch it, the love, the passion, the trust, simmering between them in a gathering conflagration of desire.

Their joined hands slide across her stomach and then lower still, caressing her clit. She guides his movements, fighting to keep her eyes open and locked on his.

"Let go, Ginny,” he urges hoarsely. “Let me catch you."

She clenches around his cock and comes a second time. Her eyes remain on his, letting him see past her usual flippancy, revealing the love she feels for him, seeing that same love reflected in his eyes, and he finally surrenders to his own need, hands lifting to grip her hips as he thrusts into her, again and again until he tumbles over the edge with a sharp groan, spilling deep inside her.

They collapse together in a heap on the bed, both of them whimpering with loss when she slides off of him.

"I love you, Neville," she whispers, snuggling into his side.

"I love you, too," he whispers back, pushing damp strands of hair from her face. He pulls Ginny close, snug against his chest, covering them both with the comforter on his bed. Ginny places a kiss to his forehead as his eyes slip shut.

Sometimes, late at night, Ginny licks her lips and imagines she can still taste Harry, feel the pressure of his mouth on hers. It’s a remembered sensation that becomes ever more ghostly as the weeks and months pass and things at Hogwarts grows more difficult. Tonight, she can’t taste him at all anymore. Instead, there’s only Neville and the feel of his arms around her, a silent promise to never let go, to never leave her alone, to always be there.