Special Delivery For: venturous, pt 2 Title: Leap of Faith, part 2 Author:coffee_n_cocoa Recipient's IJ/LJ name:venturous Rating: NC-17 Pairing(s): Neville/Ginny, Snape/Harry, past Harry/Ginny Word Count: ~15200 Warnings (if any): Past infidelity, worshipful oral sex, children in peril Summary: Neville left England three years before after giving in to temptation. When he’s called back for an emergency, he discovers how much things have changed since he left, along with one thing that hasn’t changed at all. Author's notes: Many thanks to A and H for the beta, and to R for technical assistance regarding a crucial plot point. Venturous asked for romance and vulva worship, and I hope I’ve done her requests justice.
Neville did manage to grab a few winks during the afternoon, but only after trading several more kisses with Ginny until she got off the bed and ordered him to close his eyes and rest. It turned out that lingering jet-lag and the incessant tossing and turning of the previous night prior to meeting Lily for the first time was greater than his anxiety over taking part in Lily’s first treatment that evening.
Healer Taggett strode into the room soon after Neville finished dinner that evening, accompanied by a mediwitch. Harry and Snape followed a few minutes later. Neville wondered how long it would take before he remembered to call or think of him as Severus. Possibly never. Harry nearly vibrated with nervous tension, until Snape – no, Severus – touched his shoulder.
The mediwitch worked over Lily for several minutes, checking vital signs and renewing the charms keeping her sedated, hydrated, and fed. Once done, she stepped over to Neville’s bed and ran a simple diagnostic check on him with her wand before nodding at Healer Taggett. “We’re ready,” she said.
“Excellent, excellent,” the Healer replied, drawing his wand from a pocket of his lime-green robes. Neville tensed instinctively; there had been few times in his life when a wand pointed his way amounted to something good.
“Does it hurt?” he blurted before he could prevent it.
“No, it’s not painful,” Healer Taggett assured him. “You may feel some rather intense and even contradictory sensations during the process bordering on the hallucinogenic, but if you should happen to experience any discomfort at all, do tell me and we’ll stop until we figure out the problem.”
“What about Lily?” Harry asked, his voice anguished. “Will she feel any pain? Will she feel anything at all? She’s suffered so much already.”
“Lily won’t be hurt, either,” Healer Taggett said gently. “The main difference is once the process is over Mr. Longbottom here will most likely feel rather tired and drained, which is quite normal since that’s precisely what we’re doing to him. I wouldn’t be surprised, on the other hand, if Lily’s fever goes down almost immediately and she regains a bit of natural colour in her cheeks instead. Now, are we ready to begin?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Neville replied. Ginny gave his hand a squeeze; Neville saw Snape’s lips twitch. Oh yes, he was definitely amused by the turn of events.
Lying back when the Healer instructed him to, Neville turned his head, giving Ginny a nervous smile. She, in turn, was told to take the chair midway between Neville’s bed and Lily’s. Once she was placed where the Healer wanted her, he lifted his wand and began chanting a series of complicated spells in a singsong voice, wand hand moving in an intricate dance, drawing and slashing at the air.
A white mist formed around Ginny, thickening like London fog until she appeared as a pale shadow in its midst. Slowly, the magical mist brightened and congealed around her, separating into snowy white, interwoven strands, much like a fisherman’s net, only with a faint glow. Ginny peered out between the strands and winked, eliciting relieved chuckles from both Harry and Neville.
“All right, Mum, your part in this is done,” Healer Taggett murmured, concentrating on the glowing net around Ginny. Raising his wand, he began chanting again, the cadence subtly different than before. The net lifted from around Ginny, drifting through the air to hover over Neville. He looked up at it in trepidation, watching it lower until it settled around him, covering him like a shroud.
Healer Taggett continued chanting, the movements of his wand altering slightly, and Neville felt something akin to electric shock ripple along every nerve as the white net touched him, moulding against him like a second skin.
He’d been warned about intense and contradictory sensations, and Neville was glad for it. He was buffeted by waves of freezing heat and burning cold, simultaneously crushed into the hospital bed’s hard mattress while floating near the ceiling. He could see the words to the intricate spell spilling past Healer Taggett’s lips in curlicued scrolls, smell his wand movements like ozone after a lightning strike, sharp and acrid. Ginny’s hair glowed cherry red, while Harry’s and Snape’s absorbed all the light around them.
Fascinated, Neville lifted a hand, watching the white net webbing his skin begin to glow and pulse, imbuing with colour, red and green and pink and purple and blue, each with their own sound and taste, seeping from him in droplets and soaking into the magical strands covering him, whirling and spinning faster and faster along each interwoven piece in ever-changing whorled rainbows and prisms of light. It finally culminated in a blinding flash and an ear-splitting crack, the distorted images and sounds and sensations ending abruptly as the net released Neville and rose, shimmering with an oddly beautiful pearlescent glow, the riotous colours now muted within the net’s weave.
“Neville?” Ginny took his hand in hers, her voice hushed. “How do you feel?”
He blinked at her owlishly, struggling to keep his eyes open. “Tired,” he murmured, turning his head on the pillow to watch the glowing net move to the opposite side of the room. He hadn’t felt such draining, bone-crushing exhaustion since the hours immediately following Voldemort’s death and the end of the Second War. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
Ginny snorted under her breath, her gaze following his as the glimmering net – now drenched with Neville’s magical essence – floated across the room, directed by Healer Taggett’s incessant chanting, and settled over Lily’s tiny form, contouring against her as it had moments earlier with Neville. The net dissipated into coloured mist moments later, absorbed into Lily’s skin with a faint hissing sound. Only then did Healer Taggett cease chanting, his arm falling to his side, shoulders slumping with an exhaustion Neville fully sympathised with.
“That went well,” he said, his tone cheerful despite his lengthy exertions, motioning to the mediwitch. The woman crossed to Neville, waving her wand over him. He felt a cool tingle along his skin, lifting some of the tiredness weighting him down, but not all. Smiling reassuringly, the mediwitch moved to Lily’s bed and performed a similar diagnostic spell on the little girl while Ginny and Harry looked on in desperate hope.
“Her fever’s down,” the mediwitch reported.
Ginny burst into happy tears, one hand lifting to cover her mouth, the other tightening around Neville’s. Harry gave Ginny an uneasy glance at her sudden emotional display, but his relief was palpable, tension leaking from him, leaving him looking less tightly wound. Snape touched his shoulder, and he managed a shaky smile.
“What happens now?” Snape asked imperiously. “Will there be need for further treatment?”
“I’ve scheduled two more for tomorrow,” Healer Taggett replied. “One in the morning and one in the evening. Fortunately for Mr. Longbottom, subsequent treatments won’t be nearly as enervating. Considering Lily will require continued treatment weekly until she reaches puberty, after which she should be able to both maintain and control her own magical abilities, I’m sure he finds that something of a relief.”
“I guess that means I’m here until day after tomorrow?” Neville asked, the words slow and thick. Ginny hurriedly wiped her eyes and poured a glass of water, holding it to his lips. Neville drank gratefully; his throat really was awfully dry.
“That’s so. I promise you’ll be feeling a great deal more like yourself, and so will young Lily.” Healer Taggett sounded quite pleased. “We’ll wean her from the sedative tonight and allow her some natural sleep, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she woke tomorrow.”
“I suppose this means we’re both staying overnight?” Harry asked, exchanging glances with Ginny. “Somehow, I don’t see Ginny staying away from Lily and Neville until midnight.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she declared.
Healer Taggett looked between them, smiling. “I’ll have another cot brought in.” He looked at Snape. “Or should I make that three total?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Snape replied, looking between Harry, Ginny, and Neville. “Someone should stay and monitor the home fires. Harry, shall I Firecall the Burrow and inform them of Lily’s most recent prognosis?”
“Yes, please,” Ginny and Harry answered in unison. They exchanged glances and smiled.
Neville made a small huffing sound and closed his eyes. It sounded as though everything was going to be just fine, and his participation was no longer needed. He was asleep less than a minute later.
~*~
Neville woke sometime in the early morning, scrubbing at the stubble on his face with one hand and regretting the fact he’d foregone shaving yesterday before arriving at St. Mungo’s. If he’d known the he’d also end up an overnight patient, he might have come better prepared. He still hadn’t given Lily the toad plushie he’d purchased for her.
The privacy curtain was drawn around his bed, but judging from the silence Neville assumed Ginny and Harry were still asleep in the cots flanking Lily’s bed. Pushing into a sitting position with his elbows, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and blinked.
He had a visitor.
“Professor Snape, good morning,” he greeted cautiously, voice morning-hoarse. “I thought you’d volunteered to keep the home fires burning.”
“The home fires are burning fine without my hovering,” Snape replied. “I sent Harry and the former Mrs. Potter out for some breakfast. Lily didn’t wake during the night, and if she hasn’t by now I highly doubt she will before the next treatment. If you’re fortunate Ginevra will return with a muffin or two to spare you from the hospital swill they insist upon calling food. You rested well, I trust?”
“Well enough, I guess,” Neville said, still wary. He knew the history, of course. Snape had been a spy for Dumbledore during the war, and Voldemort had tried to kill him, leaving him for dead in the Shrieking Shack. Harry had gone back after the battle to retrieve his body, only to find him still clinging to life. It had taken months before he’d fully recovered from Nagini’s bite. The fact Snape had been working for Dumbledore all along explained why Neville hadn’t had to serve as many detentions with the Carrows as he knew he’d ought; but this was still, to Neville’s recollection, the closest he and Snape had been to a civilised conversation. It felt...odd.
Snape smiled thinly, recognising Neville’s discomfiture. “You’re wondering why I’m sitting here at your bedside, rather than my stepdaughter’s,” he stated.
“I, um, yes.” He’d always been too damned perceptive to Neville’s liking. It was probably what had made him such an excellent spy. “I’m sure you have a good reason, Professor.”
“Just Snape will do. I haven’t taught for many years, nor do I miss it.” He gave Neville another thin smile. “Besides, I highly doubt you’re prepared to address me by my given name just yet. Ginevra still has trouble with it.”
“Snape, then. You still haven’t said why you’re sitting next to me instead of Lily.”
“You Gryffindors and your utter lack of subtlety,” Snape said, but there was, surprisingly, no mockery or sarcasm in the remark. Or maybe not so surprisingly, Neville thought. Harry seemed to have mellowed Snape in some ways. “I’m given to understand you were the one who slew Nagini.”
“Yes, but only because Harry asked me to do it,” Neville replied. “He asked, so I did it. There really wasn’t anything more than that behind the deed.” It certainly hadn’t been worth the post-war publicity and the accompanying notoriety.
“Perhaps, but I wanted to...thank you, regardless of how it happened. You’ve no idea how much I loathed that creature. I would have slain it myself, had I been given the time and opportunity. I’m pleased to know it perished.”
Neville did his best not to boggle. It was strange enough knowing Snape and Harry were lovers, strange enough to be chatting with the man who’d once intimidated him so badly. Being the recipient of his gratitude? Neville’s already topsy-turvy existence tipped a bit further at this fresh evidence of how much things had changed since he’d left England.
“You’re welcome,” he said instead. “It was my pleasure.”
Snape nodded once, and abruptly changed the subject. “What do you intend to do, now that you know the truth, that you are Lily’s true father? What role do you intend to play in her life?”
“I don’t know.” Neville crossed his legs on the bed, leaning forward. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told Harry and Ginny. I told them I’d support Ginny and Lily financially, whatever they needed; but Lily thinks Harry’s her father, and it’s obvious he loves her like she was his own. I don’t want to take that from him. I’m more than willing to be an uncle to her; and if Harry and Ginny want to tell her the truth when she’s older, I won’t stop them. I have no intention of abandoning either of them.”
“An uncle, rather than a potential stepfather?” Snape’s brows rose. “I was under the impression you still held Ginevra in some regard beyond mere friendship. Am I mistaken? More importantly, is Ginevra mistaken?”
This time, Neville did stare, gobsmacked. “What?”
“Come now, Longbottom. I’d hoped the years since leaving school would have raised your intelligence somewhat,” Snape said acerbically, sounding much more like the professor Neville had known and feared in his teenage years. “Do you, or do you not, have even the smallest approximation of romantic feeling toward the former Mrs. Potter? Or was the one-night stand that produced Lily all you wanted or needed from her?”
“No!” Neville shouted. Glancing toward Lily’s bed, he lowered his voice. “No. I do care for her, more than I probably should. I think a part of me has always been in love with her, at least a little bit. She’s always loved Harry, though, and I’ve tried to make do with being her friend. If she...if she...” He couldn’t say it aloud, as if voicing his hope meant taking it away. “I don’t want to rush anything. The past two days have been life-changing enough for all of us, don’t you think?”
“Perhaps you think of it as rushing things,” Snape said, smoothing a tiny wrinkle from his robes, “but for Ginevra it’s been three years. I daresay she wouldn’t consider any advances from you as hasty.”
“I – I don’t...” Neville began protesting again, but he was overridden.
“Not many people get a second chance at life to amend their mistakes,” Snape said quietly. Rising from his chair, he pulled back the privacy curtain, turning to meet Neville’s bewildered gaze with calm black eyes. “Fewer still get a second chance at love. I suggest you don’t waste it. You may not get a third opportunity.”
~*~
Ginny and Harry returned shortly after the surreal conversation with Snape. Ginny set a parcel on Neville’s bed, looking apologetic.
“I took the liberty of Flooing to your house and picking up a few things for you,” she explained, handing him two ham-and-cheese scones. “Your dressing gown’s in there, your toothbrush, your shaving kit, a few other toiletries. I hope you don’t mind.”
Neville shook his head, deliberately not looking over to where Snape leaned against the wall. He could feel his former professor’s smirk from his spot on the bed. “Ginny, you didn’t have to, but thanks. It’s very thoughtful of you. I’d wondered when I’d get to shave next.”
“I rather like the stubble,” Ginny said, and Neville blushed.
The scones were a vast improvement over the glue-like porridge brought to him for his breakfast, and Neville gladly ate those instead. He wished she’d brought back a decent cup of tea as well, but after everything else Ginny had done for him he wasn’t going to complain about something as trivial as watery tea.
Healer Taggett returned after breakfast, and the second treatment was done. The process still left Neville feeling like a washed out rag, but it wasn’t nearly as exhausting or as hallucinogenic as the first time, and the Healer assured him again his energy levels would only improve with subsequent treatments.
Snape left following the morning treatment, saying he had business to attend to, but Harry stayed behind. Ginny had brought back a deck of Exploding Snap cards, while Harry produced a sack filled with a variety of sweets from Honeydukes; and the three of them passed the morning dealing rounds of cards and enjoying Chocolate Frogs and Peppermint Humbugs.
They were interrupted mid-round by sounds of stirring from the other bed. Harry froze from his spot at the end of the bed, his expression one of desperate hope. Ginny set down her hand of cards, not caring whether anyone saw them or not, and hurried across the room to Lily’s bed. Neville kept silent and still, watching.
“Lily? Honey? Sweetheart?” Ginny stroked her daughter’s hair back from her forehead, voice catching on a choked sob when the little girl’s eyes fluttered and opened.
“Mummy...”
Harry nearly ran from the room to fetch the Healer, spurred by Ginny’s cry of joy.
~*~
One day and three treatments later, Neville was released from St. Mungo’s.
Lily had improved enough for Healer Taggett to declare her recovered enough for eventual release in another couple of days. She would still require treatment once a week until she reached puberty, but she was effectively out of danger, with her magical abilities intact. Harry and Snape had agreed to stay with her overnight, giving Ginny the opportunity to accompany Neville home.
He blinked in astonishment as he exited the Floo, looking around the sitting room. Ginny stood beside him, looking smug. “You told me you’d dropped by to pick up a few things while I was in hospital,” he said, setting down his overnight bag. “You didn’t tell me you’d stayed long enough to clean the house!”
“Surprise,” Ginny said, cracking a grin. “I did this today, after Lily’s morning treatment. It didn’t take long, truly. The place was dusty more than anything else, and it needed a good airing out, but other than that I didn’t have to do all that much. I took the liberty of stocking your kitchen, too. Why don’t you take your things upstairs, and I’ll start dinner? I bought a beefsteak for the occasion. You need to keep up your strength.”
Neville, who felt perfectly strong and healthy, merely lifted a brow in question, receiving an innocent smile in response. Perhaps a little too innocent; Harry and Snape had already appeared a entirely too eager to send Neville home with Ginny than was seemly.
He smelled a set-up.
Not that he minded. This was a set-up he was more than willing to go along with. Picking up the overnight bag again, he obediently went upstairs to his room and unpacked before indulging in his first hot, decent shower since returning to England. Afterward, he dressed in clothing more appropriate for a dinner date than a tee shirt and jeans and returned downstairs.
“Need any help?” he asked, strolling into the kitchen.
Ginny shook her head, turning the steak in the pan. “No, I’ve got everything under control here. I’ll let you set the table though, since you know where the dishes and silverware are kept. I only cleaned the house; I didn’t snoop through it.”
“Fair enough.” Neville gathered plates, cutlery and wineglasses, carrying them into the dining room. Ginny had brought a bottle of wine along with the beefsteak, so he uncorked the bottle and poured while she finished the meal, helping her carry in the food over her protests.
Neville tucked into the steak and roasted potatoes with a hearty appetite, a part of him amused by the fact that this was only the second truly decent meal he’d had since coming back, and that Ginny had cooked for him then, too. The steak was perfect, pink and juicy in the centre, the potatoes moist and tender with a bit of crunch from roasting, the salad greens crisp and garden fresh.
He let Ginny control the conversation this time as they ate, listening to stories about James and Albus, her co-workers in the Department of Magical Games and Sports, the continuing misery of Ron’s beloved yet hapless Chudley Cannons, the number of times her brothers and their wives had made her an aunt since he’d been away, as well as marriages and births among their former school classmates.
“I also hear that Professor Sprout is planning to retire soon, if not this year then definitely after the next,” she added, suddenly and unexpectedly. “They’re going to need a new Herbology professor if that’s the case. Maybe you ought to apply for the position.” Ginny looked down at her plate, concentrating very hard on cutting another piece of steak. “That is, unless you were planning to Portkey here from Canada once a week for Lily’s treatments. I’d think that would become something of a nuisance after a while.”
“I’m going to have to anyway, at least for a few weeks,” Neville replied. “There are some projects I was working on that I’d like to see through to completion; but once those are finished I fully intend to move back here permanently. I’ve got Lily to think of now, after all.”
Ginny was silent for a moment, toying at her salad with her fork. “Is that all that’s bringing you back to England?” she asked softly. “I meant what I said when you first returned. There’s a place for you. We...Was I wrong to think there was a spark of something between us, something that could fan into flame, given the chance? Because if I’m wrong, I’d rather you tell me now, before I raise up my hopes too high.”
“No,” Neville answered, thinking back to his conversation with Snape. “No, you’re not wrong. I think – I think this is finally our time, our chance. I’m willing to take the risk if you are. Does this mean I’m forgiven for running last time? It won’t happen again.”
“Yeah, you’re forgiven.” Ginny’s smile was radiant. Finishing her wine, she rose from the table, coming around to tug Neville from his seat. “I should warn you, though. Now that Lily’s getting better it means Jamie and Al’s holiday at their grandparents is nearing an end. I think we should make the most of the time I have left before they come home, wouldn’t you agree?” She nuzzled against his jaw, breath warm on his face, her lips moving to his throat when Neville didn’t pull away.
“I agree,” Neville murmured, hands dropping to her hips, pulling her closer. His breath caught as her lips ghosted over a particularly sensitive spot.
Ginny moved even closer, lips and tongue tracing his skin. Her hands came between them, pressing against his chest, fingers splayed wide as she kissed her way up to his ear. Nipping at the lobe, she whispered, “Make love to me? Seal the deal?”
“Leap before we look?” Neville asked, head tipping so Ginny could better reach his ear.
“Something like that, yes.” Ginny nipped his earlobe again.
Bending, Neville scooped Ginny into his arms, hearing her surprised gasp. Her arms encircled his neck. Kissing her, he said, “I’ve missed you, everything about you. Not just this.”
She giggled as he carried her all the way upstairs into the bedroom, looking up at him with shining eyes as he set her down on the duvet and climbed in next to her, stretching out on the bed before leaning in for another kiss. Ginny edged closer at once, fingers trailing along his arm. Neville kissed her slowly, open-mouthed, their tongues sliding together lazily. He felt Ginny’s fingers twine into his hair as he deepened the kiss, and made a small sound, head spinning already with arousal.
Ginny’s hands tugged at Neville’s shirt, pulling it from the waistband of his trousers and slipping them beneath, humming softly past his lips as her fingers brushed over his warm, bare skin and sending tingles of sensation sparking through his body. Shifting, Neville rolled over until he lay partly atop her, sliding his hand beneath her blouse and along the curve of her waist.
“Missed this,” he whispered, nipping at Ginny’s lower lip. “I used to dream about this, having another chance with you, and thinking it would never happen.”
“I did too,” Ginny breathed, parting her lips for him, closing her eyes and moaning softly as his tongue slid against hers. Her hands moved over Neville’s back as she toed off her shoes, nudging them off the edge of the bed. Curling one leg around Neville’s hip, she lifted her head from the pillows, kissing him deeper as she began fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.
Neville sat up, giving her more space to work, pulling his arms from the sleeves once she’s slipped the last button from its hole and dropping the shirt onto the floor beside the bed. Bending over Ginny again once the shirt was off, he unfastened the buttons of her blouse, pushing the soft fabric aside to expose her lacy white bra. Neville smiled down at her, lowering his head to mouth her breast through the bra, dampening the lace. One leg slid between hers, pressing close as he laid a soft kiss to the bare swell of flesh above the bra.
“Is it okay if I take this off?”
“I’ll do it.” Ginny sat up, gently pushing Neville away just enough to pull off her blouse, letting it fall next to the bed beside Neville’s shirt before twisting her arms behind her back to undo the clasp. “I remember how much trouble you had with this last time.”
“I think the people who make bras do that on purpose,” Neville joked. Ginny chuckled, making quick work of the clasp while Neville took off his trousers and shoes, letting them fall carelessly onto the floor, where it was quickly joined by Ginny’s bra and skirt. Turning back to her, Neville lay back on the bed, drawing Ginny with him, his fingers moving over her bare breast, lips brushing gently over hers. Ginny made a small hissing sound of pleasure, shivering beneath his touch, her legs twining with his.
The nipple contracted beneath Neville’s stroking fingers, tight and hard. Bending his head, he replaced his fingers with his mouth, suckling gently. Ginny arched her back, pressing her breast harder against his lips, and he obligingly licked at the tip with his tongue before moving up to kiss her neck, savouring the scents of soap and the floral shampoo she still preferred after all these years.
Her leg curled around his hip again, toes tickling the back of his knee. Neville let out a small groan as the movement pulled him even closer against her, his erection rubbing her thigh through his boxers. Forcing himself to stillness, Neville resumed kissing her throat, lapping at the hollow, tracing the delicate arch of her collarbone before closing his lips around her nipple once more, feeling it grow taut beneath his swirling tongue. He drew his thumb across the other nipple before tweaking it into a hard point between his fingers; and Ginny’s fingers slid into his hair again, holding him in place.
Responding to the unspoken demand, Neville moved back and forth between her breasts, licking and sucking with lips and tongue, grazing the tips with his teeth, rolling and pulling the opposite nipple with his fingers while she whimpered and moaned beneath him. His free hand skimmed over the soft swell of her belly, easing between her legs. Her knickers were damp beneath his fingertips and he slipped a finger beneath the elastic, dragging it through her folds and finding her wet and slippery, breath hitching in anticipation when she made a soft sound at the intimate caress.
Neville pulled back just enough to hook his fingers beneath the waistband. “Lift up,” he whispered. “I want to see how wet you are for me.”
Ginny bit her lip and nodded, shifting her hips so he could slide her knickers down her legs and off. Neville’s gaze roamed over her hungrily, refamiliarising himself with the sight of pale freckled skin; small, round breasts crowned with still-taut brownish-pink nipples; the dip of her waist and the flare of her hips; the small indentation of her navel in the middle of the gentle curve of her belly, still marked with the vestiges of three pregnancies; the shapely thighs, dark red curls at the apex. Ginny flushed at the scrutiny, cheeks turning pink, her eyes lowered.
“Merlin, I’d forgotten how beautiful you are,” Neville whispered, curling around her and nuzzling at a breast, his hand slipping back between her legs to stroke her centre. More dampness slicked his fingers, and he pressed his forehead between her breasts, breathing heavily. “I thought I’d remembered, but seeing you now brings it all back.”
“You’re not so bad yourself,” Ginny answered, the words weak and thready. Lifting a hand, she rubbed the pad of her thumb across Neville’s nipple, smiling when his breathing stuttered in his throat, petting it gently until it was as hard and tight as her own. “I’d forgotten how broad your shoulders really are.”
Neville smiled at the compliment and began kissing a zigzagging path down Ginny’s body, as though making it a point to reacquaint himself with each freckle sprinkled across her torso. Ginny wriggled beneath him, laughingly pointing out the spot whenever he missed a freckle. Her fingers were soft in Neville’s hair, combing through the strands, making him hum pleasurably against her skin as he moved further down her body, around her breasts and over her ribcage as she stretched and sighed beneath his lips.
Shifting to reach, Neville kissed the scattering of freckles across Ginny’s stomach, his tongue circling her navel before dipping inside, chuckling when Ginny giggled and complained it tickled. Moving his hand, he let it come to rest atop her mound, fingers stroking the crisp curls there, trimmed into a neat triangle.
“Neville,” Ginny whispered, eyes slipping shut, legs parting so he could slide comfortably between them. “Oh yes, Neville, please...”
“Yes,” Neville agreed, lips moving over her hipbones and the tender crease separating her legs and torso, keeping the kisses light and feathery. Ginny’s head fell back against the pillows, shuddering in anticipation as his mouth moved over her, closer and closer.
Turning his head, Neville brushed his lips over the fragile skin of her inner thighs. This close, he could smell her arousal, thick and heady as he moved higher and higher until there was nowhere else to go, damp crinkly hair pressing against his cheek as Ginny’s thighs widened for him. Neville pushed them apart a little more, rubbing his cheek against the rough curls on her mound, breathing in the intoxicating fragrance that was Ginny until her hips canted upward, urging him wordlessly to move his attentions further down.
He complied willingly, mouth moving over the swollen flesh of her outer lips, marking every tender bit with his lips and tongue before gently parting her with his fingers, breathing warm air over her and taking a moment to admire the deep pink folds unfurled to his gaze like the petals of a secret rose, moist and redolent with her arousal and need. Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss to her centre, inhaling.
Neville’s name sighed past Ginny’s lips, her entire body jerking as he touched her most intimate flesh. His tongue darted out, the tip flickering over her clit, moaning at the tangy, earthy flavour filling his mouth.
“You taste so good,” he whispered, beginning to lick in earnest, greedy for more. His hands braced the backs of her thighs, holding her apart with his thumbs as Ginny tensed and trembled against the onslaught, head tossing against the pillows, keening her pleasure, hips moving up and down instinctively.
Neville moaned again as a fresh surge of wetness dampened his lips and Ginny sobbed above him, his tongue tracing and exploring every fold and crevice, her flesh seeming to swell and throb beneath his touch, fingers pressing harder against her thighs as Ginny writhed and gasped broken words that might have been encouragement or a plea. The sounds spurred Neville onward, mouth sliding over her wetness, tongue delving into her in short, hard jabs before licking up to her clit, teasing it with his tongue.
“Please, Neville, oh god,” Ginny cried out, back arching, fingers clenched in the duvet, her entire body tense and trembling on the brink. Neville’s lips closed over her clit, suckling gently, brushing against the sensitised nub with the tip of his tongue; and Ginny shattered, convulsing, her cries rising higher and higher with each wave coursing through her until she slumped into the mattress, gasping for breath, eyes dazed and heavy.
Neville peered at her over her hips, licking the taste of her from his lips, not bothering to wipe the dampness from his cheeks and chin as he moved up her body to kiss her. “All right?” he murmured.
She smiled lazily, lifting her arms over her head and stretching, her thigh pressing against his erection. Neville sucked in a breath and her smile widened.
“Ask me again when you’re done,” she answered, still breathless from her orgasm, her hand closing around him. He thrust involuntarily, swallowing a groan, and she released him long enough to shove his boxers down over his hips, freeing his length until her fingers wrapped around him again, making him buck again into her hand.
“Keep that up, and I’ll be done sooner than you’d like,” he warned her. Sitting back, he finished pulling off his boxers, letting it join the rest of their scattered clothing on the floor before moving once more between her legs, hands going to her hips as he pressed into her, slow and sure until he was flush against her body, feeling her surround him in a tight, hot sheath. He held still a moment, kissing Ginny’s neck and shoulders and collarbone, wherever his lips could reach. She felt good, she felt right. She felt perfect.
He began moving, keeping his thrusts slow and deep, his hand moving between them to find her centre again. Ginny’s thighs tightened around his, hips moving up to meet each stroke, falling into a sweet rhythm that felt as natural as breathing. Her hand covered his, guiding his movements as his fingers slid over the slick bundle of nerves, breath shortening as he quickly found and echoed the pace she seemed to want.
“That’s it,” Neville breathed, his gaze locked on hers, watching her face tense and tighten, feeling her legs clench around him, heels digging into his arse, sweat breaking out on his forehead as she squeezed around his length as he touched and stroked her. “That’s it, sweet. Let go, Gin, let go for me.”
She cried out and came again, shuddering. Neville braced himself above her, capturing her mouth with his, swallowing her cries as she rode out her climax and finally let go, moving in and out with deep, powerful strokes, speeding further and further, pulled along by her whispered encouragement and the growing friction surrounding his cock as he thrust and thrust, and thrust again. The tightness in his belly overwhelmed, balls constricting almost painfully.
“Oh god,” he gasped, eyes squeezing shut as the first spurt erupted, spilling into her, his thrusts wildly erratic as he shuddered over her.
Ginny ran her hands over his chest, waiting until he’d stilled before tugging him down to lie atop her. Neville followed willingly, catching his breath and feeling the sweat on his back cool, relaxing beneath the soothing touch of Ginny’s fingers stroking his sweat-dampened hair.
“Tell me we can make this work,” he whispered against a sudden, unexpected lump in his throat. “Tell me Lily’s not the only reason for me to come home.”
“Neville, you’re my friend before anything else,” Ginny said softly, tugging softly at his hair until he looked up at her. “Nothing will change that. Nothing. We’ll find a way.”
Reassured, Neville slid from her body, pulling Ginny against his chest and closing his eyes, drifting into a sated, well-earned rest.
~*~
Six Months Later
September was a good time for young families to enjoy the park. Most of the older children had left for another year at Hogwarts, the weather was still fine if a bit cool, and the leaves on the trees remained mostly green and lush. The area around the fountain was dotted with brightly coloured blankets, several of which supported picnic baskets.
Neville sat on one of those blankets, one eye on the chocolate cake Ginny had made to celebrate Neville’s permanent return to England now that his Canadian projects were completed, the one she swore she’d cut eventually. Most of his attention, however, was focused on the three young children darting back and forth on the grass, engaged in an energetic game that involved lots of running and chasing and a few other rules only they seemed to know, much less understand. Harry sat with Snape beneath the shade of a nearby tree, keeping a close watch on the proceedings.
James led the group, as the oldest and most opinionated, bright red hair an easily recognisable beacon in the afternoon light, bossing Albus around, telling him what to do and where to go. Al, being a mostly agreeable boy, obeyed most, if not always all of his older brother’s commands.
Lily ran circles around both of them, laughing and squealing, auburn pigtails bobbing as she dashed around Al, her toad plushie gripped tightly in her fist. Watching her run, no one would ever guess she’d ever been deathly ill earlier in the year.
“She does love that toad,” Ginny observed, leaning in and kissing Neville’s cheek. “She won’t go anywhere without her Roggie. I think it’s funny how she keeps trying to make Trevor the Second play with it.”
“Trevor the Second is a very lazy toad,” Neville replied amiably. “Trevor the First would’ve been down there with them, despite the risk of being trampled, if he wasn’t trying to hare off on one of his adventures. Can we have cake now? The frosting’s going to melt if we wait much longer.”
“Oh, fine.” Ginny rolled her eyes and reached for the cake, calling, “Kids! Time for cake!”
“Daddy, James pushed me!” Lily whined, running toward the adults. “I want a big piece.”
“Did not,” James protested.
“James...” three male voices said in unison. Neville looked up as Harry and Snape joined them, grinning. Harry grinned back, and even Snape’s lips twitched in something that could be mistaken for a smile.
“Welcome home,” Ginny murmured, turning toward her offspring as they continued squabbling over who pushed whom, and Neville could only smile, agreeing wholeheartedly.