A/N: Hi, I'm new to the HP fandom. Just thought I'm post this and see if it's any good. Alexandri.
Muggles were masochists. At least that's the conclusion Neville drew as he sat in the circle on the floor of the Room of Requirement. It was Hermione's sixteenth birthday and, with Ginny, Ron, and Harry's help, she'd organized a typical Muggle sweet sixteen party. Ginny invited the entire DA and now they were sitting in the middle of the streamer-decorated room in a large circle with an empty butterbeer bottle in the center.
Neville watched with increasing dread as Katie Bell spun the bottle. Though he was only slightly worried it would point to him, his main fear was his own turn. As he watched the glass glint in the candlelight as it turned, he wondered why Muggle teens would willingly put themselves in such an uncomfortable and embarrassing situation. The bottle slowed and finally stopped. "Seamus," Hermione announced though they could all see on whom it had landed.
With a giggle and a shrug, Katie got up and walked halfway around the circle to Seamus and knelt beside him. Then she kissed him. It wasn't graphic or overly intimate but Neville clearly saw her nip his lower lip before she stood and went back to her place in the circle. There were only two more spinners before it was Neville's turn.
Colin Creevey was next and, as they went through the motions of the game again, Neville tried to think of a way out of his turn. He wasn't exactly averse to kissing someone; he was, after all, a sixteen-year-old boy. No, his concern was the expression that was bound to cross the face of the person the bottle pointed to. He was as well aware of the lack of interest he inspired in the opposite sex as he was of the running joke he was to them. Not that he blamed them—he wasn't inclined toward clumsy, stuttering, academically deficient witches either. That didn't mean he wanted to advertise his undesirability before the entire DA.
Neville had been completely caught up in trying to conjure a reason, any reason at all, to leave when Parvati nudged him in the side. "Your turn, Neville," she chirped happily. A quick glance around the circle revealed a stunned Dean staring bemusedly at Parvati.
Swallowing, Neville turned his eyes on the bottle. It looked so innocuous, but to Neville, it was the instrument of yet another impending social humiliation.
"Oi, Nev, are you all right?" Ron asked. "You look a tad green."
As desperate as he was to get out of his turn, he knew that if he didn't go through with it that that would reflect badly on him, too. He was damned if he did and damned if he didn't. Reluctantly, Neville leaned forward, curled his fingertips around the pleasantly cool glass and spun the bottle. He watched in morbid fascination as it turned and turned. It seemed to slow down as his heart sped up. It eased to a stop on . . . "Ginny," Hermione declared.
He was going to be sick. Why? Why didn't it have to stop on the girl he'd had a crush on for the last two years? What had he done to cause Fate to aim its twisted sense of humor at him? Slowly getting to his feet, Neville made his way around the circle and knelt beside her.
Ginny laid a reassuring hand on his knee and smiled at him. Neville felt his heart flip in his chest even though it was just a friendly smile. Figuring this would be the only opportunity he'd ever get to kiss her, Neville decided not to waste it and cupped her face in his hands. Focusing solely on her brilliant, brown eyes, he leaned in and brushed his lips over hers. They were as soft as he thought they'd be.
Neville's eyes fluttered closed as he settled his mouth firmly over hers. He moved his lips over them gently, discovering their full lushness before sweeping his tongue along the seam of her mouth. Ginny gasped and Neville leisurely ran the tip of his tongue along the inside of her lower lip. He was vaguely aware of the sound of a scuffle in the background but the feel of Ginny's hands gripping the front of his robes drove away everything but his awareness of her.
Slipping his tongue deeper into her mouth, he rubbed it along hers. She tasted of rich, warm chocolate and sweet buttercream frosting. He slid his fingers into the soft, silken hair at her nape, urging her closer as his thumbs caressed the line of her jaw. Lost in the headiness of having her in his arms, Neville took his time exploring the hidden crevices of Ginny's mouth. He swallowed her intoxicating whimpers and groaned when her hand curved around his neck.
His chest began to burn and Neville realized that he was running out of air. Slowly, he withdrew his tongue, delighted when she chased it into his mouth with hers. Tenderly, reluctantly, he pulled back, his lips leaving hers with a tiny, wet smack. He stared down at her as he waited for his heartbeat to return to normal. She sat there, eyes closed, lips parted, hand resting on the back of his neck. Gradually, her eyes opened and she stared up at him with wonder shining in her eyes.
Suddenly, he realized exactly what he'd done. Flushing a deep scarlet, Neville muttered, "I need to go . . . study . . . something." Releasing his hold on her, he scrambled to his feet and fled the room, oblivious to both the awed stares and Harry and Justin restraining a furious Ron.
Ginny watched the activity in a daze. She delicately fingered her swollen lips, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.
"Let me go," Ron bellowed, breaking into her reverie. "Did you see what he did to her? Right in front of me! He did it right in front of me!"
Stifling her smile, she said, "Leave off, Ron. It's not a big deal."
"Not a big deal!" Ron had worked himself into such a state, a vein throbbed his forehead. "He . . . he . . ."
"Followed the rules. Now it's Ernie's turn."
As Ernie spun the bottle, Ginny stared at her lap to hide the smile that refused to leave her lips. She'd always suspected Neville had a thing for her. Now, thanks to the heart's desire spell she'd put on the bottle, she had a definite answer. And she knew just what to do with it.