InsaneJournal

Current mood:

annoyed

Bah F***ing Humbug II: Electric Boogaloo
The good news: my family did not have any fights over the holidays. The bad news: a fight is impending, because my mother is living in a chaotically messy house, made excuses when my sister and I tried to bring up the subject, and brushed off offers of help. NOT NOT NOT looking forward to the next skirmish. And I've identified a county agency that counts "self-neglect" as part of its mission, but I do NOT want to sic the authorities on her.

In a happier mode, here's the holiday ficlet I promised coffee_n_cocoa.

Title: Not Quite in the Blood
Pairing: Harry/Neville
Rating: R?
Summary: Decorating for the holidays takes an unexpected turn.
Recipient: coffee_n_cocoa
Prompt: Decorating the tree
Warning: Twilight teasing
Word Count: ≈475

The tree finally stood straight in its pot. Harry was using a spell out of Flitwick’s new book--The Charming Book of Christmas Charms--to spray its branches with Never-Melt Frost.

The door to the sitting room swung open, and Neville entered, trailing garlands of holly and ivy, destined to garnish the mantelpiece. His face glowed as he struggled to contain his handiwork, the great ropes of greenery.

Harry couldn’t have explained why he then turned the wand on his lover, spraying him full in the face with silvery frost. Neville was briefly stunned, and then dropped his holiday decor to chase Harry around the sitting room of their little cottage just outside Godric’s Hollow. Very soon Neville caught up with Harry, tackling him and pulling him down onto the couch.

Harry, pinned to the cushions, gazed up at Neville, lying on top of him. Neville looked baffled beneath his glittery mask, even before Harry flung his head back to laugh. “Um, care to share the joke with me?”

“I had a stupid idea and went with it?” As Neville’s round face crinkled with incomprehension, Harry added, “But then seeing you with your face like that, it reminded me of those Twilight books of Ginny’s.”

Neville in turn flung his head back to laugh at the memory of the books Ginny had brought back from a season coaching Quidditch in the United States. The hyperidealised adolescents depicted in the lurid prose bore no resemblance whatsoever to the genuine vampires Harry and his friends had encountered, whether in person or in the illustrations of their DADA textbooks. Upon her return to England Ginny had enlivened many a dinner party with melodramatic readings, or anecdotes regarding the books’ more ardent American fans.

Neville swallowed his chuckles, and composed his face into a parody of a heroic pose. “Do...do I dazzle you, Harry?” he misquoted.

Harry gazed up joyfully. “Fuck yes.”

“The two best words ever. Tell me, do you like it when I do this?” Neville licked and nuzzled and nibbled Harry’s neck. Harry could only groan and swoon in response. “Or how about this?” Neville trailed kisses along Harry’s prominent collarbones.

Neville sat back on his heels. Harry’s eyes flew open with panic. “But I’ve never understood why vampires--real or fictional--always go for the neck, when I can think of something much more appealing.” Neville reached for Harry’s zipper, and very soon was tugging Harry’s jeans and pants toward his ankles.

Harry’s heart leapt at the sight of Neville’s face--temporarily glittering--as it sank onto his cock. And as that familiar wet, warm mouth closed around the head, Harry reminded himself that, though he and Neville were normally separated most of the year by Neville’s responsibilities at Hogwarts, the times when they could get together became all the more precious.