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ciirceeSome of you probably read this over at The Ink Pen (www.theinkpen.net) but I'm posting it here because...
Truthfully, I'm posting it because I wanted to talk about non-fic things here but this is a fic only journal. So instead of all of that, you get this and the knowledge that I'm so sick of people disappearing and little kids vanishing. I hate that Yahoo is full of those stories. I want them to come home.
Disclaimer: The Longbottoms and the Patil’s belong to J.K. Rowling. She is rich and I am not. Clear?
Dedication: To Valentine’s Day and to sweethearts everywhere.
Note: I got inspired to write a Neville fic thanks to ‘Surprising’ by Tari (found on the Valentine’s bookshelf). He’s such a cutie.
The Run-away Heart
“Parvati!” Neville called as he trudged across the field, slipping in the snow, clutching his package tightly in both arms. He tumbled a little way down the hill, but when he looked up Parvati was running up the slope to meet him.
She helped him to his feet and then threw both arms around him. “Neville,” she cried, hugging him tightly. “Your Nan floo’d my Nan and everybody was really, really worried about you.”
“Oh,” Neville frowned. He felt sort of bad about sneaking away, but then he remembered the box he was holding and he shoved it at Parvati. “I had to bring you your Valentine,” he explained. “Gran said to wait until tomorrow, but tomorrow isn’t Valentine’s Day.”
Parvati dug into the box and he watched her nervously as she found the two smaller, different colored, boxes. “Is mine the red one?”
Neville nodded. “I made it red because that’s your favorite color. And I made everything all on my own, except Gran helped make the sugar biscuits. They might be broken, because I fell. The purple one is for Padma, because Gran said I ought to make her a Valentine as well, but I only gave her one biscuit and I gave you two because…” he trailed off as his Gran and Parvati’s mum came racing out of the house. “Uh-oh,” he muttered.
He knew he was going to be in big trouble, but Parvati was looking at the pink and red and white hearts he’d cut out and glued together just for her and at the little cellophane bag of sugar biscuits that hadn’t broke after all, and she was beaming like he’d just handed her a whole Galleon all for herself.
“You put glitter on mine!” she squealed. She hugged him again. “You’re my best friend ever, Neville, and I love you more than anybody.”
Neville blushed as he hugged her back. “You’re my best best friend too, Parvati, and when we get big I’ll get you one of those shiny rings and we’ll get married. Okay?”
“Okay! And I made you a Valentine, too!” She held out a slightly crumpled, red paper flower. “Sorry; I think I scrunched it when I hugged you,” she said. “But Padma showed me how to cut it so that it opens up and I wrote your name on the inside, see!”
She’d used pink paint to make his name. “Wow, Parvati!” he breathed. “It’s the best Valentine ever!” She grinned and her cheeks were as pink as the paint and Neville figured that if they were going to get married then he should kiss her.
He’d only just mashed his lips against hers the way he’d seen grownups do when her mother and his grandmother reached them.
“Parvati! What were you thinking running out here barefoot! And with no coat! Don’t you remember how you hated the Pepper-Up potion?” Parvati’s mum grabbed her up, scolding her as she carried her back to the Patil’s house.
“Neville!” his gran picked him up and began marching towards home. “You’re going straight to bed when we get home. You were very naughty to run away…”
“Bye, Parvati!” Neville called, wiping his mouth on his hand and looking over his grandmother’s shoulder. Parvati waved to him, wiping her own lips on her arm.
“Bye, Neville! I love you!”
He kept waving even as Parvati went inside; he waved until he and Gran went over the hill and Parvati’s house disappeared from sight.
“Now, Neville, you must promise to never do this again,” Gran told him, setting him down and grabbing his hand as they came to the small wood that separated their back garden from the hill and field that lead to Parvati’s back garden. “Your Grandfather is worried sick and Auntie Enid was in tears when she couldn’t find you after naptime.”
“I’m sorry, Gran,” Neville said dutifully, “I promise.” He thought happily of his and Parvati’s promise. “Gran, how old do you have to be to get married? Is seven old enough?”
Truthfully, I'm posting it because I wanted to talk about non-fic things here but this is a fic only journal. So instead of all of that, you get this and the knowledge that I'm so sick of people disappearing and little kids vanishing. I hate that Yahoo is full of those stories. I want them to come home.
Disclaimer: The Longbottoms and the Patil’s belong to J.K. Rowling. She is rich and I am not. Clear?
Dedication: To Valentine’s Day and to sweethearts everywhere.
Note: I got inspired to write a Neville fic thanks to ‘Surprising’ by Tari (found on the Valentine’s bookshelf). He’s such a cutie.
The Run-away Heart
“Parvati!” Neville called as he trudged across the field, slipping in the snow, clutching his package tightly in both arms. He tumbled a little way down the hill, but when he looked up Parvati was running up the slope to meet him.
She helped him to his feet and then threw both arms around him. “Neville,” she cried, hugging him tightly. “Your Nan floo’d my Nan and everybody was really, really worried about you.”
“Oh,” Neville frowned. He felt sort of bad about sneaking away, but then he remembered the box he was holding and he shoved it at Parvati. “I had to bring you your Valentine,” he explained. “Gran said to wait until tomorrow, but tomorrow isn’t Valentine’s Day.”
Parvati dug into the box and he watched her nervously as she found the two smaller, different colored, boxes. “Is mine the red one?”
Neville nodded. “I made it red because that’s your favorite color. And I made everything all on my own, except Gran helped make the sugar biscuits. They might be broken, because I fell. The purple one is for Padma, because Gran said I ought to make her a Valentine as well, but I only gave her one biscuit and I gave you two because…” he trailed off as his Gran and Parvati’s mum came racing out of the house. “Uh-oh,” he muttered.
He knew he was going to be in big trouble, but Parvati was looking at the pink and red and white hearts he’d cut out and glued together just for her and at the little cellophane bag of sugar biscuits that hadn’t broke after all, and she was beaming like he’d just handed her a whole Galleon all for herself.
“You put glitter on mine!” she squealed. She hugged him again. “You’re my best friend ever, Neville, and I love you more than anybody.”
Neville blushed as he hugged her back. “You’re my best best friend too, Parvati, and when we get big I’ll get you one of those shiny rings and we’ll get married. Okay?”
“Okay! And I made you a Valentine, too!” She held out a slightly crumpled, red paper flower. “Sorry; I think I scrunched it when I hugged you,” she said. “But Padma showed me how to cut it so that it opens up and I wrote your name on the inside, see!”
She’d used pink paint to make his name. “Wow, Parvati!” he breathed. “It’s the best Valentine ever!” She grinned and her cheeks were as pink as the paint and Neville figured that if they were going to get married then he should kiss her.
He’d only just mashed his lips against hers the way he’d seen grownups do when her mother and his grandmother reached them.
“Parvati! What were you thinking running out here barefoot! And with no coat! Don’t you remember how you hated the Pepper-Up potion?” Parvati’s mum grabbed her up, scolding her as she carried her back to the Patil’s house.
“Neville!” his gran picked him up and began marching towards home. “You’re going straight to bed when we get home. You were very naughty to run away…”
“Bye, Parvati!” Neville called, wiping his mouth on his hand and looking over his grandmother’s shoulder. Parvati waved to him, wiping her own lips on her arm.
“Bye, Neville! I love you!”
He kept waving even as Parvati went inside; he waved until he and Gran went over the hill and Parvati’s house disappeared from sight.
“Now, Neville, you must promise to never do this again,” Gran told him, setting him down and grabbing his hand as they came to the small wood that separated their back garden from the hill and field that lead to Parvati’s back garden. “Your Grandfather is worried sick and Auntie Enid was in tears when she couldn’t find you after naptime.”
“I’m sorry, Gran,” Neville said dutifully, “I promise.” He thought happily of his and Parvati’s promise. “Gran, how old do you have to be to get married? Is seven old enough?”