Happy springsmut, coffee_n_cocoa! Author:j_lunatic Recipient:coffee_n_cocoa Title: Redhead in Bed Rating: NC-17 Pairing(s): Neville/Ron; background George/Lee Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. Summary: Neville learns much more than he expected about the power of scent. Warnings: Dubcon? Word Count: 2,300 Author's Notes: 1) In the days before modern hygiene, redheads traditionally were said to have a characteristic body odour; one 19th-century aficionado described it as "amber and violets." 2) Demeter makes a fragrance called Redhead in Bed, but it's based on a cocktail combining strawberries, lemon juice, and gin.
Neville frowned at the extensive and explicit instructions Lavender and Parvati had given him. Well, this operation was close enough to Potions to give him problems, or a complex. He measured into the first prelabelled bottle a quantity of freshly milked Mimbulus mimbletonia sap, added enough rectified spirits to make the requested concentration, and stirred.
Lavender and Parvati had asked Neville to make solutions, of several different strengths, of the sap from his Mimbulus mimbletonia. Supposedly they wanted this stinking substance as a possible ingredient of the new perfume they were making for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' WonderWitch line. "I don't expect it'll ever really replace Tonquin musk as a base note, but good-quality musk is getting harder to source, and I know I don't like thinking of just what part of the deer the musk comes from," Lavender had exclaimed. At this point Parvati had started pulling out small bottles from her supply cabinet. Their contents smelled worse than Harry's socks, but apparently when used in the right proportions made the difference between a banally pleasant smell and a subtle yet affecting perfume.
The sap was dispersing into the alcohol without needing much stirring. Neville corked the first bottle, containing a 10 percent solution of sap (almost as odorous as the stuff straight from the plant). He then took a fresh bottle and measured out enough sap to make the 5 percent solution, topped it with alcohol, and stirred.
This proportion didn't smell as much like the pure Mimbulus mimbletonia sap. Neville racked his unreliable memory, trying to think what this smell evoked. He nearly snapped his stirring rod when he realized just what he was remembering.
Redheaded people generally have a characteristic body odour, hinting at something unwashed, something less human, more animal-like. During his years at Hogwarts Neville had smelled it on Percy Weasley (despite his faithful twice-daily showers), Ginny Weasley (lurking beneath her insipid, heavily applied flowery perfume), and the Weasley twins (especially when they came back from Quidditch practice without showering first). But above all Neville had smelled it on Ron Weasley--after all, the two had roomed together for 6 years.
Neville had never let himself look at Ron when he was lounging on his bed in only his shorts, or was coming back from the showers covered in just a towel. (When had Neville told himself it would be wrong to look at Ron that way? Third year? Second year?) But Neville's traitorous memory recalled snippets of speckled flesh seen out of the corner of his eyes, and assembled a composite figure. A lanky, freckled young man, with a thicket of bright red hair on his head, and a thatch of slightly darker red hair--well!
Struggling to ignore the excitement rising in his crotch, Neville corked the 5 percent solution, and hastily measured out sap and spirits to make a 2 percent solution. Mercifully, its scent did not call to mind half-dressed adolescent lads.
After corking the 2 percent solution, Neville unstopped the bottle of 10 percent solution--yes, it smelled almost as offensive as the pure sap. Then he uncapped the 5 percent solution.
The blood rushed back to Neville's groin, and images of freckled flesh rebounded. In hopes of suppressing the impermissible images, he undid the fly of his jeans and reached in, remembering the unnamed, fair-haired man he'd--well, met at the Trou Normand during his last visit to Paris's Wizarding district. He could almost smell the melange of aphrodisiac potions and rough red wine.
Neville gripped his hard prick, shuffled his hand up and down the shaft, and focused on the memory of the stranger's skilful tongue and lips. But instead Neville kept imagining a head of redder hair and ruddier cheeks, imagining a more familiar face greedily licking his balls, sucking on his cock, swallowing his come.
"No!" Neville exclaimed, as he ejaculated onto his workbench. As soon as he could focus his eyes, he immediately began mopping up. After all, if Lavender and Parvati wanted--well, a different pungent substance to play with, they'd have asked specifically for that.
* * *
Neville entered Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and headed directly for the stairs leading to George's flat over the shop. Lavender had roped him in to help test perfume samples, even as he had protested that he knew nothing about women's fragrances.
In the sitting room Neville found a dinner table surrounded by chairs. The only person seated there was Luna Lovegood.
"Luna!" Neville exclaimed. "I thought you were still in Papua New Guinea. I got the plant samples, thank you very much. And did you find the...Blibbering Humdinger you were hoping to find?"
Luna shrugged. "No luck with the Blibbering Humdinger this time, but there was a reported sighting in New Zealand. And I found an interesting new bird. During mating season the males first have sex with each other; the sounds they make then lure the females out of hiding." The habitual dreamy expression on her face remained unchanged. "The pictures didn't turn out very well, but until I can get back next year I've got some of its features." She produced several smallish black feathers.
Neville hadn't attempted NEWT-level Care of Magical Creatures studies, but he'd have guessed the feathers were those of an ordinary starling. "Interesting," he said in an effort to be polite. Luna lapsed into a stillness that was soon broken by the arrival of Lavender (bearing a large box), Padma, Parvati, George, and Lee Jordan.
Just as the new arrivals sat down, another set of footsteps was heard rushing up the stairs. Ron arrived and took the last seat, which happened to be next to Neville. Neville desperately tried to block the flood of fantasies from the last several weeks. Was Luna looking at him and Ron, with that peculiarly penetrating gaze of hers?
"Fantastic," Lavender exclaimed. She pulled half a dozen bottles and several piles of handkerchiefs out of the box. "Now that we're all here, are we all ready for the testing?" When the others nodded or murmured their assent, she uncorked a bottle, dampened handkerchiefs with the contents, and passed them around the table. "Let the alcohol evaporate for a few seconds, or you might blow on it--" she puckered up her mouth to demonstrate. "And then give it a good sniff. Don't go thinking you have to love it or hate it immediately."
Neville gave a tentative sniff. The florals were unquestionably pretty, but otherwise he couldn't think of anything to say about the sample. "Oy Lav," George interjected, "I said I wanted the equivalent of Ginny in a perfume."
"I remember, and remember we've got a range of samples to try this evening. Once we've gone through all six we can revisit any or all. And speak up if you have anything to say about this sample. No?" Lavender opened another bottle and dampened another set of handkerchiefs.
Neville opened his mouth to blow the alcohol off his sample, only to discover that he and Ron had turned to face each other. Neville immediately turned his gaze to the table.
This sample was flowery like the previous one, but there was a vague hint of something that to Neville's mind recalled being downwind from a hippogriff's paddock. "Animalistic, but in a refined way," commented Parvati, and "Sultry, fleshy," Padma contributed.
Lavender passed around the third set of samples. Even before raising it to his nose, Neville could tell that this formula had an even stronger "animalistic" note. He sniffed it, and sat back in his chair, astonished. His head switched about, until he saw Ron next to him, looking as agitated as Neville felt. Maybe he was now picking up the paddock note?
Was the blood rushing to his groin? Yes, and he was getting light-headed. Was Ron leaning in his direction? Maybe?
Even under Veritaserum, Neville would not be able to explain what he did next. He rose from his seat, grabbed Ron by the front of his Chudley Cannons t-shirt, and thrust him up against the wall of George's sitting room, crumpling an autographed poster from a Weird Sisters show. Neville pressed himself fully against Ron, kissing him ferociously, plastering his fleshy body fully against Ron's lean frame.
That marvellous, blasted smell! Neville pulled from Ron's face (his mouth was bruised, and gaped with surprise). Neville's hands flew to Ron's waist, fumbled with a belt and a zipper, and finally pulled down the other man's trousers and pants. Neville dropped to his knees and, nuzzling over Ron's obliques, hipbones, scrotum, inhaled that diabolically delicious scent from its true source.
Neville opened his mouth and took Ron's cock into his mouth, as if the scent was some magnificent secretion he could literally drink. Neville raced his tongue around the velvety head, bobbed up and down on the hard shaft beneath the soft flesh, protectively cupped the scrotum. The next thing Neville knew, Ron was whooping with astonishment and coming down Neville's throat. Neville swallowed the bitter seed as if it was the finest chocolate.
Neville struggled to his feet, suddenly aware of the hard-on tangled in his underpants. He pushed Ron back against the wall and began to rut against him, with the urgency of Aberforth Dumbledore's goats in springtime. After only a few thrusts Neville was wailing and coming in his pants.
Neville stepped back and tuned to face the rest of the room. On a couch across the room, George and Lee were lying half-dressed, suggesting that they too had yielded to similar urges. The women were still sitting at the table, their mouths gaping as if they couldn't quite believe what they had just witnessed. Except for Luna, whose characteristic nonchalance was replaced with a look of avid concentration.
He turned back to face Ron, who was still slumped against the wall, also visibly still shocked. "What did I--Ron? I'm sorry?" Bewildered and embarrassed, Neville promptly Apparated back to his rural cottage, and was lucky not to Splinch his scrotum off in the process.
For the next week Neville hovered around his Floo, officially because he was expecting Hit Wizards to take him into custody on a charge of indecent assault. And when neither Ron nor their mutual friends Flooed him to read him the riot act, he was relieved, yet curiously disappointed.
* * *
Neville had been invited to the launch of "Romance in Red," to be held at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Apparently he was not barred from the shop, even after what had happened there? He dithered so long on whether or not to attend that he eventually found himself pulling out his old Divination textbooks, in hope of getting an answer.
On the night of the event, Neville found himself entering Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. The launch party was well underway. The shop was hung with red velvet, and to further the theme, the sales assistants were circulating with pitchers of mulled red wine and plates of fairy cakes iced with red sugar.
The shop smelled of the new fragrance. Neville inhaled hesitantly. There was still a hint of hippogriff dung in the final formula, although he noted with relief that it did not make him want to rip off the clothes of the nearest redhead. He accepted a goblet of the wine, and waved across the room at George Weasley, who appeared to be arm-in-arm with Lee Jordan.
"Neville!" Lavender came up from behind and hugged him. "The launch is going even better than we thought! Paris, New York--they're going mad for it. Everyone's reordered already, so we're going to need more Mimbulus mimbletonia sap. Oh, and some other cosmetics companies have asked about ordering the Mimbulus mimbletonia base--I'll send you an owl on Monday."
She rummaged in her purse and extracted a small bottle. "And this is to thank you." Lavender pressed it into Neville's hands. "Redhead in Bed," read the label. "Do not open this in here. But have a good time." She waved across the room.
"Have a good time?" Neville echoed. But Lavender disappeared into the crowd, only to soon be replaced by Ron. Neville nearly dropped the little bottle Lavender had given him. For several minutes the two lads attempted to look each other in the eye, only to drop their gazes to their shoes.
Neville pulled himself together. "Hello," only to be overtaken by Ron saying "I was going to Floo you, really." The two lapsed back into embarrassed silence, until Neville found it in himself to say, "I'm sorry about what I did when we were last here."
"Sorry?"
"For the next week I expected Hit Wizards to drag me off to the Ministry."
At this point Hermione, with Viktor Krum in tow, plunged into the two young men's space. "Ronald? Have you told Neville what you really feel? Hello, Neville."
"Hermione...."
"Oh! Viktor and I will be right over here...." Hermione bustled away, followed by Viktor.
"Hermione and Krum?" Neville's voice sounded and felt rusty. Hope blossomed in his heart.
"Yeah, it's a long story." Ron turned to look Neville full in the face. "Maybe we could go to the Leaky Cauldron to talk? It'll be quieter there. I'll buy you a butterbeer."
"I'd like that." The two lads left the store in silence. Neville stuffed the little bottle in his pocket. When he removed his hand from his pocket, Ron grasped it. Neville's stomach jumped around like Trevor on an unstable lily pad, but he didn't let go of Ron's hand. They headed towards the Leaky Cauldron. While Neville had a fair suspicion of what the contents of Lavender's gift smelled like, he much preferred the prospect of smelling that scent straight from its source.