Gotta be larger than life
Title: Gotta be larger than life.
Rating: R, because Faith wouldn't shut up.
Disclaimer: JKR created all things Harry Potter, and Joss Whedon created all things Buffy/Angel. I didn’t.
A/N: Lucinda had a challenge on the forums of TtH. This was inspired by that, but as I didn’t quite get all of the items of the challenge, I don’t really consider it a response. It was more the inspiration. You should really listen to Bonnie Tyler’s “I need a Hero” when you read it, though. ***
Neville Longbottom was running. Running as fast as his legs could manage. He could have apparated, so why didn’t he?
Well, he could have, had he not forgotten where he’d put his wand.
Had he had his wand everything would have been much simpler. Then he could simply have done something with it, and the thing he was running from would have been rendered inactive. Or he could have been back home.
Well he could have done it, if he hadn’t forgotten his wand at home. He had grown quite good with his wand, unless he was under a lot of pressure. Which, Neville wryly thought to himself as he continued to run, seemed to sum up this situation perfectly well.
Fuck the wand; he likely wouldn’t have been able to drag it out in time anyway.
Just as he was about to turn the corner, and get out to the main road, where there would be cars, and real people, a motorcycle drove around the corner, and Neville ran straight onto it.
The motorcycle wasn’t going very fast, as it had probably slowed down to be able to drive around the corner, but it seemed like Neville managed to hit it at just the right time, and the bike toppled over.
Neville and the driver of the bike flew horizontally across the road, and when they stopped he found himself on top of someone undeniably female. Very female.
“Ugh,” the woman grunted and dragged her helmet off. “Want to tell me why you were charging at 70 miles an hour into my bike, dude?”
Neville couldn’t answer. When she had taken her helmet off, long dark locks had cascaded down, and dark eyes looked irately at him. She was very pretty. He blinked for a second, and remembered where he was.
Lying on top of a very attractive, albeit very pissed off woman.
He quickly gathered his wits and rolled off her. He could already hear Ron’s response when he would tell him about it later: “You were lying on top of her, mate, and you did nothing?”
“Well, you see,” he turned to look back to where he had been running from. “There was a kind of thing back there, and I just had… to run.” He completed the sentence lamely.
“Well, now. A thing you say? I’m very fond of…” she looked at his face and then let her gaze drop a bit, and Neville could swear she was grinning like mad. “Things.”
He did the only sensible thing.
He was 25 years old, and he still blushed when anyone insinuated anything about sex.
How pathetic was that?
Of course, Hermione, Luna and Ginny thought it was sweet. But blokes weren’t supposed to be sweet. Sweet lads got no dates. It was always the bad blokes who got the birds. The Draco Malfoys of the world, not the Neville Longbottoms.
Fortunately it was dark, and he prayed that this one wouldn’t notice.
“So,” she said. “Want to show me in the direction of the dangerous… things? They sound just like my kind of mission.”
“Your m-mission?” he stuttered. Bollocks. Now she would probably jump on the bike and drive into where the sun had set hours ago, and he would never see her again.
She grinned, and got up from the ground. She stretched out her arm, and pulled him up as well.
“It's okay, I know that I'm not the sort that people expect to be a hero. And I’m not angry that you ran into the bike, either. Truth to be told, you just made my mission a whole lot easier. Which gives me more time afterwards for more pleasurable things.”
Neville could have sworn she was licking her lips.
“Are you absolutely sure? I mean, wouldn’t it be better for you to be anywhere but here?”
“Sure,” she chirped. “But unfortunately I pulled the short straw tonight, and… I really need to get this done. We wouldn’t want it to be running around, hurting others, would we?”
Neville pointed, reluctantly, in the direction from which he had come.
The woman charged off in the direction, her motorbike lying behind, seemingly forgotten. Much like, Neville presumed, he was.
He had better stay with the bike, though. Just in case anyone decided to nick it. It wasn’t one of the better neighbourhoods of London, and quite frankly he didn’t know what had possessed him to go to the club in the first place.
Had he known that that thing masquerading as a female, a very attractive female at that, was a vampire, he never would have followed her out in the alley from the dance-floor.
It astounded him that it hadn’t chased him, as he had believed it would. But, when he wheeled the bike over to the side of the road, he had to admit it made a certain kind of sense.
Why would a vampire spend any energy chasing Neville Longbottom, when there were so many more attractive people inside, who needed no chase?
He was left to ponder that, and to admire the bike, until she returned for it ten minutes later.
“Wow, I’m all juiced up now,” she wiped her hands on her dark jeans and grinned at him. “Want to go for a ride?”
Neville supposed it was pure reflexes that had him looking behind him, for the person she *really* was asking.
“Hey,” she looked a bit more serious now. “Just you and me. Riding.”
“O-on the bike?”
“Why is it that whenever I make a simple comment about something people always assume I’m talking about sex?” she muttered. “Yeah, on the bike. At least for now.”
He was pretty sure he was blushing again.
But since his wand wasn’t around, so that he couldn’t get back to his flat, and he didn’t fancy staying around where he was any longer than absolutely necessary… and she was attractive. Neville Longbottom found himself nodding.
“Well, then,” she put her helmet on, and handed him one from underneath the seat. “You wear this, and make yourself comfortable, because you’ve just agreed to the ride of your lifetime, dude.”
“My name is Neville,” he said. “Neville Longbottom.”
“I’m Faith!” She held out a hand, and he grabbed it, relieved to feel a pulse. “Shall we get this ride on the road, or what?”
Neville got on the bike, and put his arms around Faith’s waist. He could vaguely smell the leather from her coat through the large helmet.
And before he knew it Faith had started the bike and they were off.
The air wasn’t hitting him in the face, he was too hidden behind her for that, but still he could feel it swooshing around him, and towards the hands that were folded on her stomach.
The ride wasn’t that long, before he had properly savoured the feeling of being on an actual motor-cycle, something he had heard Hermione and Harry talk about quite a lot, and he had seen Harry on one, but never tried it, the bike slowed down and came to a stop.
He tried to let go of Faith, but discovered that his hands seemed to have frozen together around her body.
This was not how things were supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to have his hands around a beautiful… wait a tick. This was how things were supposed to happen, if you were anybody but Neville Longbottom.
You were supposed to have your arms around the bird on one point or another in the evening.
Granted your hands were probably not supposed to be so bloody cold that you couldn’t remove them from the position, and you wondered if you had frostbite, but he still had his arms around her.
“You know,” she said dryly. “You can remove the hands, now, if you really want to.”
“Can’t,” and he was sure he was blushing. “They’re stuck.”