Disclaimer: HP? Nuh-uh. I don't own it. Unless you mean HP sauce, there might be some of that in the cupboard...

Pairing: Victoire/Neville (with credit to mew-tsubaki and Morghen)

Notes: A little background on this story: I wrote a Victoire/Neville oneshot recently, from Victoire's point of view. Afterwards I asked myself things like "What was Neville thinking here?" and "Why did Neville do that?" and... I couldn't answer. Thus, I figured I'd only be able to write this pairing from Neville's point of view. Here's my stab at it.

Feedback is, as ever, appreciated and desperately hoped for. I hope you enjoy!~

Relationships aren't built on pity. You don't get anywhere with someone if all you do is look down on them. Well, it's not like Neville looked down on Victoire, but to be honest he was more than a little embarrassed and worried by her more than little crush on him. It just wasn't appropriate.

And relationships aren't built on impropriety, either. They need to be strong and stable, and Neville knew that's why he loved Hannah, because they were just so strong together, and they always had been. Victoire... sure she was there, sure she was tempting, but she wasn't Hannah and she never would be.

Relationships aren't built on lust. Yes, it's a big part in the beginning stages, but it's not the be-all-and-end-all, and maybe when Victoire understood that she'd stop trying to attract him and realise that, well, she was making a fool of herself because Neville was married and he wanted to stay that way. He trusted that one day she would understand that, but it was hard to wait for it when every day he was getting snide little comments from colleagues and students alike and Hannah picked and picked and picked at him about what she'd heard.

Relationships, Neville knows, are built on understanding (so unlike pity because you can sympathise without patronising) and trust (so unlike lust because you're in control and it's far more permanent if it's right)... and when that trust, when that understanding you had with someone is broken, it's like your heart's suddenly made of pieces and you can't get it whole again without it looking like it's just been glued together, like it can break apart at any moment.

They're standing inside and he realises her skirt's not rolled-up and her face isn't that dolled-up and it suddenly strikes him she's an adult now, not a child, and he doesn't know why he says it, but, there the words go, and you can't take back the truth once it's been said.

"I hate her."

When she looks at him like she understands who he means without having to be told - with her such beautiful and young and, oh, god, tempting eyes - he's drawn in; he just can't look away. And, even though it's her twenty-first birthday party and he's a forty-year-old man who knows so much better, he finds himself thinking, Please no one come in here. I need this.

"...I'm glad," she admits quietly, shakily, like it hurts her to say these words she never thought she'd actually say to his face, always keeping quiet even though it was obvious what she felt. Neville knows what that's like - he's kept his share of painful secrets - and he knows that when it finally comes to saying these things aloud it hurts.

"I'm... just really, really happy."

Suddenly it's like they're glued together, kissing and kissing and kissing, and it's just so improper and wrong and out of control and he knows that that's not what relationships are made of.

But then maybe temporary connections are better than being in pieces.

Maybe it's just that your heart's beating at all that matters.