Neville never felt so unattractive as during sex with Hannah.
Sweat beaded on his brow, dampening his hair and causing it to hang lank across his face. The close quarters between him and Hannah made him self-conscious of his body, especially as it was displayed when he thrust into her. He was well aware that the angle of their bodies tended to display his… less attractive qualities.
To her credit, Hannah never said anything derogatory after they'd finished, but Neville felt the shaming silence just as vividly. After two years of marriage he was beginning to wonder why they had gotten married in the first place.
It had seemed so natural to propose to his girlfriend at their graduation party, filled with heady excitement for the future. Hannah was beautiful in a quiet way and far out of his league, but after dating for a few months Neville had taken a chance. He bought the best ring he could afford, done his best to fix his hair, knelt down… To his everlasting surprise she said yes.
Two years was a long time to be married to someone who really only liked you more than her other options. Hannah was preoccupied with her work and her social life, only home in the late evening and seldom willing or able to spend time with her husband. Sex was dealt with routinely, usually once or twice a week, and while pleasurable, often left Neville cold afterward.
Life wasn't awful though, Neville reminded himself. He had been taken on as an apprentice to Professor Sprout, who was grooming him to take over the position once she retired. Neville loved the time he spend experimenting with different combinations in the Hogwarts greenhouses, where he felt most himself.
Neville was content—of a sort. Being with Hannah was better than being alone after all. It wasn't as if his true love was going to pop out of the woodwork. Epic love wasn't for everyone anyhow, some people were better off with a milder version.
Life moved on and the status quo was maintained. That is, until Hannah—and Neville by consequence—was reacquainted with Draco Malfoy in her work at the Ministry.
Neville never felt so attractive as during sex with Draco.
It wasn't that he had lost any of the pudge that had tormented him since childhood. It wasn't that he had figured out the right way to move during intercourse that somehow masked his body. Sex with Draco was simply so enthralling that Neville forgot to care about his own awkwardness.
With Hannah, Neville had been afraid—to hurt her, to not perform adequately, to know what she was thinking, to not give her pleasure. With Draco he found it hard to do anything but just live in the moment.
Draco's arms would clutch at his shoulders frantically as the blond groaned a litany of curses and demands. Neville much preferred Draco's bitchiness to Hannah's stoic silence.
Their flat outside of London was quickly becoming Neville's favorite place. He liked to curl up on the sofa, watch the tele and give Draco a foot massage while the blond ranted about what Neville's ex had done at the ministry that day.
Hannah and Draco had a volatile relationship at best—Hannah resenting Draco for being the catalyst for her divorce, and Draco being unwilling to be the bigger man and back down from the constant nitpicking.
Neville had a better connection with Hannah— the two were cool acquaintances at present, but Neville had hopes for a friendship to form out of the shambles of their marriage. It helped that Hannah was dating a bloke from St. Mungo's—though he hadn't begun a relationship with Draco until after their divorce was finalized, the blond had played a major role in the process, and their relationship was a sore spot for Hannah.
As Neville reflected on his life at present, he was forced to admit that he was no longer content. Neville was finally happy.