A HariPo oneshot
Note: The Harry Potter characters belong to J.K. Rowling, not to me. Done for a quote prompt. This pairing is a Mew and Mor's Weird Pairing, which you may find in the M&MWP forum (see my profile for details). Check out and join the forum FUN! Read, review, and enjoy!
"At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet." —Plato
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—it is one of the most notable and well-respected of all the magical academies.
It is also known for its teachers—some not in the way one would think.
Victoire Weasley huffed as she made her way to Herbology. Teddy Lupin finally had graduated from the school last year, so he was no longer the object of her affection. Well, that was a little misleading. She'd dropped her crush on him last year long before he'd graduated because…
She'd fallen for an older man.
Yes, Victoire knew most girls had that type of crush at some point in their lives. However, the Weasley daughter had not expected to be one of those girls herself. It happened, though, and Victoire was surprised to find she was pulled by Neville Longbottom, her Herbology professor.
It wasn't as though Neville were ugly. It was quite the opposite—he easily was the handsomest teacher—no, man—in the whole school. She knew he hadn't always been so good-looking; her family's school tales all described him as a gangly youth. He was no gangly youth anymore, though.
Victoire pursed her lips now as Neville rolled up his sleeves and churned some soil with his bare hands. He had very strong arms that called to mind the story of him beheading Lord Voldemort's last Horcrux, the snake Nagini, with Godric Gryffindor's sword. It was a tale that spoke of Neville's outstanding bravery, something which Victoire admired.
"…Weasley? Miss Weasley?" Neville waved a hand in front of her face. "Victoire?"
Victoire blinked, coming out of her reverie. How could she be so stupid as to not pay attention in his class?! She smiled her winning grin. "I'm sorry, professor. You were saying?"
His dark brow furrowed. "I asked that everyone start the assignment. You need to mix your soil and then gently place the Jittery Juniper in its hole." He passed her the magical plant. "Is something the matter, Miss Weasley? You've never disrupted class before."
She bit her tongue to keep from saying anything stupid. Her cheeks burned a red as dark as her cousin, Rose's, red hair. After she took a few breaths, she was ready. "They say it's good to daydream, professor. A daydream a day to create the wonders you may."
To her surprise, Neville laughed, but he wasn't laughing at her. "That was very insightful, Miss Weasley. It's no wonder you're in Ravenclaw."
Victoire nodded but frowned. If she was so smart, then why had she fallen for her teacher? It was the only question to which she lacked an answer.
4 weeks later…
"Ahem. Miss Weasley…"
Victoire inaudibly gasped. She'd done it again. Why—why couldn't she focus in his class anymore? Her little crush shouldn't be affecting her classwork at all.
Yet there she was, holding the Gurdygantuan (very large Gurdy Root) Pod…the same pod that had been squeezed to the point of exploding all over her and Neville. He quirked an eyebrow in annoyance—the first she'd ever seen him do that. "You were getting ahead of yourself there, Miss Weasley. I asked that you milk it under one of the available clay pots."
She frowned and dropped her eyes. "Sorry, professor. It won't happen again, professor."
"I should like to hope not, Miss Weasley."
Though she hated hearing that "Miss Weasley" in his buggered tone of voice, it quickly became the only thing she heard out of him as she kept screwing up. Poor sixteen-year-old Victoire's grade was suffering now, too.
Finally, when she'd tripped during a class and nearly decapitated him with the clippers, he snapped. "Miss Weasley!" he scolded. "Please follow me after class."
For the rest of class, Victoire was not allowed to participate. Afterwards, she followed Neville out back and helped him carry supplies into the greenhouse. An unbearable silence hung between them for a long while.
"What is wrong, Victoire?" Neville asked with his back turned to her. He watered the plants while waiting for her answer.
"I suppose…," she began slowly, "that a mind is not an impartial thing." She twisted her hair into a ponytail as he gave her the most flabbergasted face.
Victoire shrugged, ignoring the rising heat of her cheeks. "I meant what I said." She thought for a moment. "I guess I mean that no part of a human is entirely objective."
Neville pursed his lips and half scoffed. "That's your explanation for your behavior lately?" He stood and crossed his arms in front of his chest as he faced her.
She turned away, her heart beating rapidly at her wish to be fitted against that strong chest. "Answers are only what the listener perceives them to be; they are never facts." She smirked a little. The Sorting Hat had chosen correctly; her Ravenclaw intelligence was really helping her skirt around the issue.
He rolled his eyes. "So I don't get a straight answer?"
The wizard put his hands on his hips as he closed the few feet between them. "Miss Weasley, I am very close to deducting points from your House for your bothersome attitude."
She growled, her temper flaring uncharacteristically to life as she snapped, "Stop calling me 'Miss Weasley!'" Victoire blinked and gasped. Oh, crap… She hadn't meant to speak a straight word to him! Victoire had been trying so hard not to let any conversation be directed back to her—and the one thing she was trying to avoid: her feelings.
Neville stared at her, first puzzled and then slowly comprehending. "You hate that?"
She said nothing.
"You truly hate that?"
Victoire closed her eyes. The truth was that she loved hearing her name in his slightly rough voice, but she didn't want to hear it in annoyance or with detachment. "No…," she admitted.
Now it dawned on him, judging by the soft tone of his voice. "Y-You're distracted because…"
The witch heard him exhale slowly. She opened her eyes just in time to see him bend down and kiss her forehead. She blushed cherry red, a sight at which he chuckled, but his cheeks were dusted pink, too.
"No more cryptic messages, dear girl." He ruffled her hair and hugged her to him with one arm. "Plato said that at the touch of love everyone becomes a poet."
"So I'm not allowed to encode my feelings anymore?" she asked impishly.
She laughed at the look on his face. "No…but can you wait until you not my student anymore at least?"
"But I want to be your student."
"No," he corrected, surprising her with a kiss on the lips—which he followed up by squishing a Gurdygantuan Pod on both of them to get her back for earlier. "You want to be my girlfriend."
She stuck her tongue out at him. "Is that such a bad thing?"
He laughed. "Not when it's mutual, my dear Miss Weasley."
"You know… I'm dirty now. Care to clean me up, Professor Longbottom?"
He turned bright red."Victoire!"
Aw, I want Nev to call me "dear girl" now, too! XD This was so much fun to write. They are just awesome together! I think I might even have an idea of how to start a multi-chapter fic for them now, too…
Thanks for reading, and please review!
Thanks as always to Morghen for beta'ing!
2016 note: Not too terrible for my first very lighthearted Vicnev…but I still had quite a bit to edit, least of all any instances of "Vicky"—what a terrible nickname for Vic, my beloved next-gen daughter! Dx