springsmutfairy (springsmutfairy) wrote in hp_springsmut, @ 2008-03-05 18:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | fic, het, neville/susan |
Happy Springsmut, cat_goddess!
Author: starrika
Recipient: cat_goddess
Title: Stammerings and Staff Meetings
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Neville/Susan
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Susan Bones was not a timid person, except when it came to the Herbology Professor.
Warnings: None, except for sex.
Word Count: 3,766
Author's Notes: I hope you like this, cat_goddess! I tried to work in as many of your kinks and prompts as possible, and most importantly, make it romantic. :)
Susan Bones was not a timid person, except when it came to the male species. Certain specimens of the male species, to be entirely precise. She had the distinct misfortune of blushing wildly and stammering around the men she was interested in, even at the old age of twenty five.
This made staff meetings at Hogwarts quite interesting, as the Muggle Studies Professor couldn’t manage to string two words together in front of the Herbology Professor.
Really, it was quite embarrassing how she couldn’t speak in front of Neville. Professor Longbottom.
He was very nice about it, which only made it worse. Susan felt like a first year, and dreaded each monthly meeting for weeks leading up to it. He would smile and tell her how her ‘Puffs were doing, studiously ignoring the creeping flush on her neck and cheeks.
It hardly helped that she hadn’t properly dated anyone since her fifth year, ten years ago at this point. Where other women her age were able to flirt or drop witty comments into conversation, Susan felt lucky to string three words together around attractive men. Although, if she were able to stop thinking of the naughty bits from her latest Harlequin Romance novel while she was around Neville, that would probably help. (Not that she’d admit to reading those trashy things – it was simply research for class, she told herself).
It was surprising, then, when Neville unexpectedly asked her to dinner one Monday in October. It took Susan a moment of surprised blinking before she answered yes, her face red at the way she blurted out her answer.
Neville simply smiled and gave her arm a friendly squeeze, telling her he couldn’t wait. He still appeared unfazed by her blushing. Susan stood in the hallway for a full minute before she realized that her class had already started. Muttering to herself, she walked briskly down the hall, trying to keep a silly grin off her face.
~
Saturday arrived much too quick, leaving Susan to turn to Minerva McGonagall, of all people, for advice on what to wear. She was in a bind, though, as her other options were her students (not prudent at all) and Sybil Trelawney (not likely to ever happen). Feeling idiotic, she entered the headmistress’ office with two dresses and hoping that Minerva would not suggest any of her favorite tartan.
“Minerva, I have an odd favor to ask you.”
“Neville’s favorite color is blue – I suggest the one on the left, Susan,” was the response. Minerva sat at her desk, sipping a cup of tea calmly.
“Is it a part of the job description to know what’s in everyone’s mind, then, or does it come with the office?” Susan retorted, holding up the blue dress to inspect it.
Minerva smiled enigmatically. “I’d lower the neckline on that a bit, dear. You’re allowed to cut loose when you aren’t in the school. I can remember a few times, with Albus and Charles Prewett – oh, you don’t want to hear about the faculty mischief from Dippet’s tenure, now do you? Go with the blue, and lower the neck.”
Susan laughed and shook her head. “I certainly don’t want to think of Professor Dumbledore in any way other than the kindly older man I remember. Please, spare me my illusions,” she said lightly.
She held up the hanger with the blue dress (was the neckline too high?) to inspect it for a moment. Susan gave Minerva a smile. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Susan,” Minerva replied. “Do try to speak in front of him – it would make the staff meetings a good twenty minutes shorter.”
Susan blushed, but laughed again. “I know, I know. Drink your tea and go meddle with someone else,” she replied good-naturedly. It had taken her time to warm up to Minerva’s dry humour, but she rather enjoyed it now. Despite the age difference, Susan felt that Minerva was becoming more of a friend to her than a colleague. It was an unexpected, but pleasant, thought.
~
Dinner, however, went the way of the staff meetings, with Susan nervous enough to reduce her to her normal, red color and awkward replies. She was embarrassed, too, that she had been so blatant around Neville about her interest, as happy as she was to be on a date with him.
For his part, Neville seemed calmly collected. He told a few funny stories about his classes and studiously ignored her halting sentences. He asked her questions about her life outside of Hogwarts (not much of one, although Susan wouldn’t admit that), and by the end of the night they were trading gossip about some of their mutual friends and acquaintances. Susan’s blush was still present, to varying degrees, but she was speaking without stammering. Success!
Hearing that someone actually married Draco Malfoy was shocking enough that she forgot all about Neville and the date.
“I still can’t believe someone married that toad,” she exclaimed as they left the restaurant and began the walk back from Hogsmeade.
Neville shook his head with a grin. “Neither can I. I reckon it’s someone who didn’t go to school with him, because I can’t imagine anyone else wanting to.”
“Except Parkinson,” Susan added.
“Except Parkinson,” Neville agreed, making a face.
They walked in silence for a moment until Susan stopped abruptly, a look of dawning comprehension on her face. “Merlin, we’re going to have to teach their children.”
Neville paused, pulling another face. “That’s not a pleasant thought.”
“Well, I probably won’t have to teach them,” Susan added loftily, a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin on her face.
“Now that’s just mean,” Neville replied, but he was smiling, too.
He took her hand as they got closer to the school. “Here, I have something I want to show you in the greenhouses.”
Susan flushed and nodded, feeling awkward again. Her palm wasn’t sweaty, was it? Did he like the date then, since he took her hand? Or was he just being polite?
He opened the door to the third greenhouse for her, making a gesture for her to step inside. “I’ve been growing these for a while,” he said, following the path to another door – his personal workroom, Susan guessed.
Neville had to take out his wand to unlock the door, and Susan had to wonder at his warding with the complicated runes that glowed. “Worried about break-ins?” she asked. Hogwarts had been peaceful for about six years. Surely he wasn’t expecting another attack?
“More for their protection than mine. The only break-ins I’d expect are students, and they’d get more than they bargained for if they started messing with some of the plants in here.”
That gave Susan pause. What, exactly, was he going to show her?
He must have realized how that sounded, because Neville turned to her with a smile. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”
He took her hand again and led her to the back corner of the workshop to a seat on a wide, stone bench. “It’s a surprise. You have to close your eyes,” he said. “And don’t peek,” he added, just as Susan attempted to look through her parted fingers.
She could hear him rustling around in the greenhouse for a moment before his footfalls sounded closer to her.
“All right, you can open them now.”
He was holding a potted plant – roses to be exact. They were small, tea roses with white blooms tipped in pinks and reds. There was even a faint glimmer to them, as if they had been dusted with gold mica. Susan had never seen roses like it before.
“Oh, Neville, these are gorgeous,” Susan replied, reaching out a hand to tentatively touch a bloom.
“No thorns, either,” he said a bit proudly. “Took ages – I crossed it with a few things. Ended up with some weird looking flowers before I got it right.”
He took a seat next to her on the bench. “They’re for you, by the way,” he added, and it was the first time he seemed hesitant all night. “I hope you like them.”
“For me?” Susan echoed. “Neville, these are lovely. Surely you want to keep them after all the work you put in.”
Neville set the pot down next to the bench before turning to look at Susan. “Look, Susan. I’ve known that you liked me for a while. And I know you like roses – I remember last year when I tried to keep that plant of yours from dying. I felt bad that I couldn’t, so I started working on this to replace the last one.”
This was starting to sound like a rejection speech to Susan. Her cheeks reddened – their date had seemed to be going well.
“I’m buggering this up,” Neville muttered, jamming his hands in his pockets. “I started working on the roses and I started liking you. I couldn’t help thinking about you when I was growing them for you. I just – I didn’t want to ask you on a date until they were perfect. I didn’t want to jinx myself.”
He took his hands out of his pockets. “Most women, I always jinx it,” Neville added with a lopsided grin. Susan felt a flutter in her stomach at that smile.
“They’re beautiful, Neville. I promise I won’t kill these,” Susan replied, smiling despite the blush.
“I told you, you didn’t kill the last ones,” Neville replied, taking her hand and giving it a quick squeeze.
“I thought you were just being nice,” Susan replied, giving his hand a squeeze in return.
Neville shook his head. “Not when it comes to plants,” he said, still smiling.
“Oh.”
There was a pause, and then Neville was leaning towards her. Susan was a bit surprised to find her body inching towards him, as if it had a mind of its own. His lips met hers gently, and Susan tentatively leant against his shoulder, tilting her head as he deepened the kiss. His hand threaded through her brown hair at the nape of her neck, the other still clasping hers.
She opened her eyes to gaze at his dark head, the chiseled cheekbones that appeared towards the end of sixth year. (It was the only sharp part of his body, she decided). Broad shoulders, with his gray shirt fitted to his frame. Susan ran her hand down his shoulder, pausing in surprise at the hardness of the muscles in his upper arm.
Somehow, the top buttons of her dress had come unfastened without her noticing. She felt cold air puckering her nipple. The next thing she knew, his mouth trailed to the beginning swell of her breast.
The agony of waiting soon had her arching toward him, her body responding even though her mind was full of doubts. It was their first date - should she stop him? Neville ran his hand from her side down over her hip and Susan exhaled the breath she’d been holding. They’d stop – just not yet.
It was then that she felt the wet heat of his mouth close over her nipple. She gasped. He drew on her sharply, teasing the tip of her breast into an aching peak, which he then seized lightly between his teeth and flicked with his tongue. Susan felt a shiver shoot down the length of her body. She jerked and quivered, unable to even think clearly, let alone anticipate what he might do next.
It felt amazing. Somehow, he’d maneuvered a knee between the both of hers, nudging her thighs apart. She reached down to grab his hand on her thigh, only to forget her aim when he suddenly switched his attention to her other breast. His hands were a little rough from working with the plants, but his touch was light. Every time she’d begin to think of stopping him, his hands would distract her. He was making her dizzy, it felt so good.
Heat pooled low in her belly and Susan heard herself moan. The next thing she knew, she had made fists in his hair to draw his mouth more firmly to her breast. Every time he flicked her with his tongue, she nearly cried out. Nothing had ever felt so good and made her ache for more like this. Not her inexperienced fumbling with Terry Boot back in fifth year, nor her own hesitant hands when she lay in bed.
She lifted her hips, wanting more of the grinding pressure of his hand on her pelvis. It was madness, this wanting, and yet she couldn’t resist. Every time her pelvis ground against his hand, she felt a little shiver go down her spine. She arched higher, seeking more, needing to feel the hardness pressing against her. It felt so much better than her own hands. She didn’t even notice the cool glass from the greenhouse wall at her back
Her skirt rode higher, and Susan noticed Neville’s hand on her thigh inching higher with it. He ran his fingers over her cotton knickers (she’d have worn silky ones, had she known she’d have his hand there) and under the elastic. His fingers explored the soft thatch of curls between her thighs, gently parting her folds with a fingertip. She was hot, wet, and wanted him badly. Merlin, how did anyone not put out on the first date?
This was better than the Harlequins.
She couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath when his finger slid into her deeply. His finger was thick, and she’d never had anything but one of her own small fingers inside her. It didn’t hurt, precisely, but it wasn’t comfortable, either.
Neville withdrew his hand at her gasp, and stopped teasing her nipple with his tongue. “Susan? Do you want me to stop?”
“No – no,” Susan replied softly. “I’ve just not done, well, any of this before,” she admitted, face red. She still didn’t want to stop. Hopefully, he didn’t think her a slag because of it.
“Oh,” Neville said. He leaned in to kiss her gently, his chapped lips a contrast to hers slicked with gloss. He broke the kiss after a moment and stood. Susan’s heart dropped. He was going to stop.
He took her hand, helping her rise from the bench and her skirt fell demurely back to her knees. She quickly closed the open buttons on her dress. “Let’s go back to my room,” he said. Susan bit her lip from blurting out an enthusiastic reply.
“I’d like that,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze. He picked up the roses and gave Susan another grin that made her stomach flip. She definitely did not want to stop any time soon.
They snuck back into the castle quietly with hushed laughter, feeling like students out after curfew. Luckily, Neville’s rooms were on the first floor and they managed to dash into his room without running into any of the other professors or students. Or Peeves.
Susan was particularly glad they didn’t run into Peeves.
She didn’t even get a proper look at his rooms before he’d backed her over to his couch by the glowing fireplace, punctuating each step with a kiss. The back of her legs hit the edge, and she fell over onto the cushions, Neville on top of her. He’d gone from kissing her lips to her neck, and she could feel his fingers undoing the buttons of her dress this time.
One of his legs was wedged between hers, applying just enough pressure that she was already squirming with need again. His leg moved away as his mouth moved once more to her bared breasts, and she let out a breathy sigh. It had felt so good.
He replaced his leg with his fingers, using his leg to nudge hers apart slightly. This time, he didn’t explore the sensible cotton knickers, but immediately slipped under the elastic, touching the swollen flesh between her folds. At the contact, Susan dragged in a breath and wiggled her hips, trying to escape the stimulation. It was almost too much, the way his fingers slid over her. Neville followed her hips with his hand, though, and pressed his thumb against her, lighter this time. He moved slower, his thumb moving in small circles around her clit.
She didn’t notice the uncomfortable pull of elastic with her knickers shoved aside. All she could focus on was the overwhelming sensation of tongue to nipple and thumb to clit. Under his teasing ministrations, her sensitive flesh slowly hardened and she thrust her hips upward, begging for more. Neville increased the pressure and escalated the pace, responding to her body. It was a heady feeling.
She wanted more.
Susan inhaled sharply again as a jolt of pleasure went through her body. Her legs began to tremble slightly. As the first shock of sensation rolled over her, she grabbed hold of his shoulders and arched her back, her breath coming in increasingly quick little pants.
“Merlin, Neville,” she murmured, her breath hitching.
He took her nipple between his teeth, increasing the stimulation at her breast as he increased the pressure on her clit. His thumb was sliding in wetness and Susan tightened her trembling thighs around his hand. Her whole body shuddered and she gasped once more, fingers curling into him. Letting out a moan, Susan exhaled hard, her eyes rolling back. She felt an insistent wave of pleasure, and still his fingers slid through her folds. He coaxed another wave of sensation, fingers insistent. Her legs were shaking and still, she kept quivering. It seemed to last forever until his hands stilled and his lips moved from her breast to her neck. Her climax left her trembling and feeling boneless, lying limply under him and breathing heavily.
Neville drew her close afterward, stroking her hair, whispering gently to her. She pressed her parted lips against his neck, shivering and breathing unevenly. He waited until the residual shudders finally stopped and then pulled away from her. He brushed a kiss across her lips, one hand toying with the buckle of his belt.
“Do you want to?” he murmured against her lips.
Instead of answering, Susan moved tentative fingers to his belt buckle and lowering the zip. He lifted himself to remove his trousers and pants, cock springing out from his body. It was much bigger than Terry’s (the only cock she’d ever seen), and Susan was a bit intimidated. There was no way it would fit, surely. Not if his fingers were uncomfortable.
Now she knew why they said it would hurt the first time.
She fiddled with the buttons of his shirt, undoing them slowly as he settled himself above her again, cock pressing against her thigh. He was working on the rest of the buttons of her dress, leaving kisses at each inch of flesh he exposed.
The dress unfolded, leaving her bare except for her white cotton knickers, which he began pushing down insistently. Lifting her hips, Susan helped shove them down, feeling nervous. She ran a hand over his chest, not minding the pudge of his stomach. He pressed against her and brought his lips to hers again.
His cock pressed against her entrance and Susan tensed. (Harlequin couldn’t be all wrong, could it?) One of his hands came to her breast, fingers brushing over her nipple. Susan couldn’t help but relax slightly, feeling a slight stirring of arousal once more. He moved his hand down to adjust his positioning slightly, parting her folds around him. She could feel his cock pressed up against her slit and he slid into her slowly. Susan gasped at the feeling and he paused, a mere inch inside. She was stretched, uncomfortably so, and she knew if he went further, it would hurt.
Neville leaned down to kiss her. “It’ll be better, just give it a moment,” he murmured, sliding into her a little deeper.
Susan exhaled, still trying to get used to the pressure of his cock when he slid a little deeper inside her. This time, it burned Susan drew in another sharp breath. She bit her lip. It hurt, but it wasn’t terrible. Neville pulled back a little, and Susan felt it burn again when he pushed back in, this time sheathing himself fully in her. Their hips were pressed together and she felt full, more than anything. His cock came out of her fully before sliding in again, still slow and measured. She still felt uncomfortably stretched, but this time it burned less.
As she relaxed, he slid easier inside her. Each stroke felt less uncomfortable, and Susan began to feel faint stirrings of arousal when their hips ground against each other. His thrusts became faster and more erratic, and he moaned her name. Neville pulled her knee up so that he could slide into her deeper, and the change of position made her moan. Each time he thrust into her, his pelvis ground down on just the right spot.
Just as Susan was starting to really get into it, he thrust into her deeply and a warm wetness filled her. It was pleasant, but she was nowhere near the trembling climax of before. This time, Neville was flushed.
“Sorry,” he murmured, collapsing on top of her and talking into the crook of her neck. He tightened his arms around her. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No,” Susan answered honestly. “I liked it.” She idly played with a strand of his hair that was tickling her cheek. “I think I’ll like it more next time.”
“Next time?” he echoed, his voice teasing. He pushed himself up so that he could look her in the face. “I hope there’s a lot of next times.”
He leaned down to kiss her and Susan felt another rush of butterflies.
“I like you a lot, Susan.”
Susan blushed, but she was smiling. “I like you a lot, too, Neville.”
“I know,” he replied. He smiled. “Are you going to talk to me at staff meetings, now?”
Her cheeks deepened in color, despite the teasing tone. “You’re being mean to me,” she retorted, poking him in the bicep.
“Hey,” he exclaimed. “I need this arm.”
Susan laughed. He still liked her, despite all the awkwardness. That alone made it a little easier to talk to him. (She still wasn’t tossing her hair and speaking like a Harlequin heroine, but she’d manage). She put her arms around his neck to pull him down for another kiss. Closing her eyes, Susan enjoyed the sensation of his lips on hers. If they kept this up, she’d have no problem talking at the staff meetings.