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fic post08

Fantasy #11 for angela_snape
Title: Gifts My Mother Gave Me
Author: sassy_cissa
Recipient: angela_snape
Pairing: Bill/Neville
Rating: soft R
Word Count: 3,394
Summary: When Molly interferes, Bill ends up winning.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Highlight for Warnings: *really nothing but a bit of frotting and innuendo *
AN: Thanks to E, A and most of all B, who believed in me when I wasn't able to believe in myself.



"Yes mum, I'll be pleasant." Pulling out of the Floo, Bill sat back on his heels and rubbed his temples. "That woman will be the death of me," he said to the empty room. "I don't need a bloody gardener! I'll get 'round to fixing the place up."

He stood slowly, stretching the kinks out of his back and looked around his cottage. It was small, but it suited his needs and was what he could afford after his divorce from Fleur. His eyes filled with tears at the memory of coming home to find his wife in bed with Gérard. 'How could I have been so stupid?' he thought. He could hear Fleur like it was yesterday Oh mon chéri, I'll be with Gérard in Paris. — Oh darling, I'm meeting Gérard for lunch. — Bill, do not be absurd, Gérard… he is like a brother to me.

"I don't know exactly how things work in France, darling," Bill spat, "but where I come from one does not fuck one's brother. And I'm still talking to myself. Bloody hell! Maybe I should get a pet — at least then I'd not be talking to the walls." Bill shook his head and walked over to the table. He stared at the sandwich he had made prior to his conversation with his mother before tipping it into the waste bin and laying his head on the table. The bottle of Old Ogden's there drew his attention and made his palm itch to grab it.

"I should have just moved to Romania and lived with Charlie," he said, closing his eyes as he reached for the bottle.

oo00oo

Bill sat up with a start. Someone was pounding on the door to his cabin. He blinked his blurry eyes, trying to get his bearings. "Stop the fucking pounding," he growled, standing up from the table. The empty bottle of Ogden's crashed to the floor, shattering into a million pieces. He grabbed his head as he stumbled to the door and threw it open.

"Oh shite," he said in greeting, barely suppressing a belch.

A tall, brown-haired man stood on his stoop. His looks were familiar, but Bill couldn't place him immediately.

"Morning," said the stranger, thrusting out his hand towards Bill. "I'm Neville. Neville Longbottom." He paused, waiting for some sign of recognition from Bill.

Bill stared, his lingering state of inebriation threatening to send him arse over teakettle.

"Uh, I'm supposed to help you with your gardens." Neville's words sounded more like a question than a statement. "Your mum sent me?"

"If you're such a hot shot gardener, then how'd ya miss the garden? You walked straight through it to get to the door." Bill replied, closing his eyes against the rising morning sun and leaning on the door until the urge to sleep almost became too much to resist.

"Can you at least tell me what you want the gardens to look like?" Neville asked, forcing Bill to squint one eye back open at him. "Give me a place to start."

Bill shook his head, wincing at the nausea such a movement produced. "I don't give a fuck what they look like. Since this is so important to my mother, why not check with her? She seems to be the one with all the brilliant plans! Just do what you need to do and leave me alone." He turned sharply, slamming the door in Neville's face as his stomach began to heave.

oo00oo

Neville stared at the door before slowly turning away, muttering, "Mrs. Weasley told me he wasn't too happy about this, but she didn't tell me he would be bloody impossible to work with."

Making his way back to the garden, Neville spent the next hour identifying the existing plants and sketching out a plan that utilized the space more efficiently and would provide colour from early spring through late fall. Once he had a general idea of what he needed to do, Neville knelt down on the soft ground and began to pull the weeds out from around the flowers.

The sun was high in the sky when Neville stood. He glanced towards the cottage. Deciding that he wasn't in the mood for another confrontation, he left wondering if he should return the following morning. Neville gave a final glance to the house and shook his head, thinking, 'he might be rather attractive if he wasn't such an ass'.

oo00oo

This pattern continued for the next two days. Neville arrived at the cottage shortly before nine in the morning and started in on cleaning up the badly neglected gardens, without stopping to let Bill know he was there.

When he woke on the third morning, it was already warm and the bright sun promised to make the day unbearably hot before noon. Neville dressed in light-weight trousers and a t-shirt. He heated his water for tea, toasted some bread, eating quickly before heading to Bill's house.

Arriving at the cottage, he surveyed the lovely landscape he'd managed to build into the rocky soil and decided there really wasn't much else he could do without some input. With a heavy sigh, he went to the door, knocking reluctantly as he readied himself for another unpleasant confrontation.

This time as the door swung open, Neville didn't allow Bill an opportunity to speak, simply starting in on his demands before Bill had a chance to even note who was visiting him. "I've done all I can with the flower beds and the walk ways, but I really need to know if there are any plants or flowers that you're allergic to or that you don't care for. If there is anything you would like to see, you need to tell me now so that I can plan that equation into the garden. Otherwise it won't be balanced properly, and you might have problems with the plants not producing as they should."

"I'm sorry? Who are you?"

Neville stared at Bill, astonished. "We… I… what?"

"Are you the one who did all this?" Bill asked, poking his head out the door as he indicated the newly laid flower beds.

"Y-yes."

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you think I'm two Knuts shy of a Galleon."

Neville blinked rapidly, trying to think of some way of avoiding answering that. "I… we met the other day? When I came by to ask you about the gardens?" He smiled weakly, hoping that would help Bill remember seeing him. He knew he was rather average and ordinary, but he didn't think he was that forgettable.

Bill's brow furrowed. "The other day?" he parroted back.

"Tuesday," Neville replied, his lips pursed. "When you ever so politely damn near told me to bugger off. If I'd not promised your mum..."

"Bloody hell!" Bill interrupted. "You're that Neville chap mum was sending over." He looked sheepishly at the man on his stoop. "I might have been a bit under the weather that morning. Rough night and all."

Neville struggled not to roll his eyes. "Well you certainly weren't the most charming host." He turned toward the garden. "Now if you have a few minutes, I'd like to discuss some things. It gets warm earlier and earlier, and I prefer to be not to bake in the sun all day."

Bill shrugged, stepping out the door and pulling it closed behind him. They walked silently to the garden, where Neville began to explain the different types of plants that were there.

"I think some hellebore would look nice along the back border of the garden," Neville said. "I have some interesting hybrids I've been working on. One is brilliant yellow and the other is nearly black. They also flower far into the late spring."

oo00oo

Out of the corner of his eye, Bill watched the young man become quite animated as he talked. It was clear to see that he enjoyed working with plants. Bill found himself staring at Neville's hands and wondering if they would be smooth against his skin or if the underside was calloused and rough.

"What do you think?" Neville asked, pulling Bill from his musings.

"Sure, whatever you think is best," Bill stammered, a faint blush creeping up his neck.

Neville looked confused. "Did you hear a word I just said?"

Bill opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and then shook his head.

"Fine," Neville replied, pulling some papers out of his pocket. "Let's do it this way." He unfolded the large paper, sliding his hands across it to flatten it out. "Now, here is the garden," he said, releasing a corner of the paper to point. The paper fluttered in the breeze, folding the edge over so they were unable to read it.

Neville sighed. "Maybe if we set it on the ground..."

Bill gently prised the paper from Neville's hands. "How 'bout if we go in and get a cool drink and you can spread this out on the table?"

Neville blinked when Bills hand brushed against his. His face flushed as he nodded in reply, and he followed Bill inside.

"Have a seat," Bill gestured to the table. "You can spread your papers out there."

Neville pulled some more papers from his pocket before sitting down. He opened them all and laid them end to end on the table top, the four pieces coming together in a large square. Bill leaned in close, studying the small, neat writing, trying to understand what exactly he was looking at.

"This is the current garden and the rest of your property." Neville said excitedly. He pointed to the area behind the cabin. "I'd like to take this area and make a small vegetable garden. The soil back there is perfect for vegetation and..."

Bill looked at him quizzically.

"You're staring," Neville stated. "Do I have dirt on my face?"

"No," Bill said with a laugh. "You were just so excited — talking about the plants and the soil. And well, honestly, I've never seen anyone so into their job."

Neville pulled his lower lip into his mouth, biting at it with his teeth. "Don't you like being a Curse Breaker?" he asked finally. "I mean it seems like such a great job, much more interesting and dangerous than plants."

Bill sat in the chair next to him and contemplated his answer. He traced his finger across several of the scars on his arm. "Dangerous isn't always a good thing."

"Do they hurt?" Neville asked softly, his finger following a faint line from Bill's elbow to his wrist. He looked up into Bill's face, and Bill was startled by the heat he saw in the brown eyes.

"Not so much anymore," Bill replied, licking his lips. He watched as Neville's glance darted to his mouth.

"I...I'd better get back to work," Neville mumbled. He stood, knocking the chair slightly and nearly losing his balance.

Bill grasped his elbow to steady him and their eyes met again. "Careful," Bill said, his voice rough. "You don't want go falling now..."

Neville shook his head and hurried out the door.

oo00oo

Neville raced out the door and back to the quiet security of his plants. He knelt on the ground, plunging his hands deep into the soil; scooping up handfuls of the earth and watching it sift through his fingers. What am I doing? He asked himself. This is a disaster. I can't be attracted to Bill! Merlin's beard! Pull yourself together, Neville; finish the job and go home. No sense wishing for what you can't have.

oo00oo

Bill watched as Neville hurried back out into the yard, realizing that it was the first time he'd felt a stirring of attraction for another person in as long as he could remember. Or for a man since before Fleur had cast her spell on him. He stood staring at Neville’s broad back, leaning over the dirt and tenderly handling each plant as if it were a precious gift.

Bill thumped his forehead lightly against the door frame in dawning recognition. Suddenly things were falling into place. This was the Neville that Ron had roomed with all through school. The Neville whose parents had been Aurors. The Neville who had done the single bravest thing he'd ever seen in his life by standing up to Voldemort.

“Well, Neville Longbottom, just exactly when did you become so damn attractive?” Bill whispered.

oo00oo

The next few days passed much the same as before. Neville arrived in the early morning, went straight to work on planting the foliage he had brought with him that day. Bill sat at the table every morning — long past when he finished his meal — watching Neville working in the yard. Bill was thrilled watching his yard come to life under the careful ministrations of Neville’s hands.

Bill found himself drawn out into the yard, calmed by his surroundings in a way he’d never felt before. He didn’t think he’d ever been so eased by someone’s mere... presence. Neville had started eating his lunch with Bill in the cottage, on the pretence of getting out of the sun for a while, and Bill was amazed at how easy Neville was to talk to.

When Bill rose on Thursday, and glanced out through his kitchen window, he frowned. The sky was blue, but on the horizon and heading towards the cottage were thick, black clouds, heavy with rain. Bill was wondering if Neville would even bother to come today, when Neville Apparated just inside the fence, his arms full of plants with blooms in the most beautiful shades of blue.

"Morning, Nev," Bill called out from the front stoop. "You might want to just leave those for today," — he gestured towards the sky — "looks like we're in for a storm. They can kick up pretty quickly here."

"Nah, it'll be fine," Neville replied with a smile. "I want to get these in the ground, and then the rain will help them take."

Bill shrugged and went inside. He pulled out his ledgers and started working on his accounts. He'd worked hard over the years and invested well. He wasn't as rich as the Malfoy's, but his cottage was paid for and that allowed him to pick and chose any requests for his expertise in Curse Breaking.

A clap of thunder startled Bill and he moved quickly to the door. The rain was pouring down and lightening was dancing across the sky. Neville was soaked to the skin...and still calmly planting the blue flowers.

"Neville!" Bill yelled out between the booms of thunder. "You're getting soaked! Get in here!"

"Just one minute, and I'll be finished," Neville called back without raising his head.

Lightning flashed and thunder echoed throughout the house.

Neville stood and admired the tiny blue flowers that outlined the beds.

"Now, Neville!" Bill yelled, his voice panicky, his eyes on the lightning that danced across the darkened sky.

Neville hurried to the house, smiling widely. "It's just a bit of rain. I won't melt."

"Maybe not," Bill said exasperatedly, "but my Mum will have my hide if you end up sick. Somehow she will make it my fault, and I'd prefer to avoid her wrath, thank you very much."

Neville smiled even as his teeth began chattering.

Bill looked at his dripping clothes. "Oh hell, we need to get you out of those wet things. I'd do a drying charm, but I've learnt not to cast much when there's lightening around. Something to do with the electricity in the air. Can make a spell go pretty wonky."

"Yeah, I've had problems with spells during thunderstorms before," Neville said, wrapping his arms across his chest. Droplets of water slid from his fringe down his cheek to cling to his chin, and Bill watched the progression as if fascinated. Unbidden, the thought of what that fresh rainwater might taste like, taken directly from Neville's skin, slid through his mind. He shook himself with the firm reminder to 'focus'.

"When I was at Hogwarts, they always seemed to go sideways during Potions," Neville went on, voice trembling slightly as he gripped his own wet sleeves. "At least, I blamed it on lightning. Was probably more like I was just scared shitless of Snape."

He grinned, and Bill stared. God, he was attractive. Attractive, and trembling violently, teeth beginning to chatter.

"Listen," Bill said, forcing himself to move, "you need strip off, and I'll find something for you to wear." He looked at the slightly smaller form, calculating that anything he had probably wouldn't fit. Well, his bathrobe would have to do. He showed Neville to the bath, pointing out his robe on the back of the door. Bill forced himself to leave and not look back when he heard wet fabric land on the floor.

Trying to busy himself, Bill went to the kitchen to make them some tea. He put together a tray with two cups and some vanilla biscuits his mother had forced on him and carried it back to the living room. He set the tray on the table. He heard a shuffling noise and Neville came back in the room. The white robe was too big for Neville, hanging low on his hands and past his knees, and he looked adorably swamped in it. Bill had a sudden and almost irresistible urge to roll up the sleeves and tighten the belt; anything to touch him.

Neville sat the chair closest to the fire and sighed into the warmth, one hand grasping at the robe, his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed lightly at the ankle. He shifted slightly to grasp the cup of tea Bill held out to him and the bathrobe opened slightly, revealing a muscular thigh lightly covered in dark hair.

Bills eyes fell on the sturdy thigh, and he went still, staring. Neville must have sensed something, because he glanced up, and then, wide-eyed, tried to pull the fabric closed over his skin.

"Don't," Bill said softly. He set the tea back on the table and reached down, his index finger lightly running through the sparse dark hair. Gooseflesh rose in the wake of his touch. He lifted his eyes back to Neville's. They were very wide. "Unless, you'd rather I didn't..."

"I..." Neville swallowed heavily. "I... don't think I'd say that."

Bill grasped Neville by the hands and pulled him to his feet. Even as Neville’s eyes widened and Bill heard him catch his breath, Bill's hands slid around Neville's back and pressed his lips to Neville's throat. He was right; the rainwater still clinging to that skin tasted brilliant. He pulled back, just enough to see into Neville's eyes. Finding the desire he'd hoped for, Bill leaned in and covered Neville's lips with his own.

They kissed gently at first, closed mouth and just the tiniest of pecks on their lips and jaw lines. Soon need took, over and their kisses became hungrier, needier. Bill urged Neville's mouth open with his tongue, then slipped it inside. Neville made a startled sound in his throat, and his hands lifted to Bill's biceps and tightened there. When Bill pressed his hips forward, he growled as Neville pressed back. Bill lifted his lips from Neville's, resting their foreheads together.

"I want you," he whispered. "But I don't want to rush you.

"Rush me?" Neville gave a strangled sounding little laugh. "I was afraid I was going to have to start pulling everything out and re-planting it."

Bill pulled Neville into his arms with a soft chuckle. "No need. I think it's obvious we're both willing to give this a try." He kissed Neville again, moaning as Neville's tongue sought his out. When Neville sucked Bill's tongue into his mouth, Bill was certain he'd died and had gone to heaven. He'd forgotten how much he loved kissing men. The pure want radiating through the kiss, their erections pressing together, and Neville's hands twisting in his hair — it was fucking brilliant.

"Bedroom," he growled against Neville's mouth.

Neville ground against him in reply.

He grasped Neville's hands and slid them from his hair, kissing one hand before releasing it. As he pulled Neville to his bedroom, Bill decided to send his mother a dozen roses in the morning. This was definitely a time when mother knew best.