The Prince and His Knight
Neville wanders over to the refreshment stand, shiny shoes tapping away on the flagstones trapping feet that were, in fact, growing a little tired from all the waltzing. A smile remained on his face despite the impromptu break, trying to rationalize that a break is a good thing, and he didn’t really want to intrude on Ginny’s night too much longer anyways.
Not when Luna was here-
Not when Ginny is so gone on her, Neville thought with a small glance back over his shoulder. They deserve a chance to dance at a ball.
Neville appreciated Ginny coming to the Yule Ball with him in the first place. As he reaches for the proffered punch by one very-dour-Dungeon-Bat, he reflects on his luck securing any date at all. Though his year-mates had been less vocal in the past year, he knows most don’t see how he could’ve managed getting into Gryffindor house.
He wasn’t outgoing.
He wasn’t assertive.
He wasn’t brave.
Thing is, Neville thinks with his smile dimming further, I know I don’t deserve to be there. He had pleaded with the sorting hat, became a hat stall, all because he wanted to honor his parents’ memory.
Well- also because he was fearful of what his grandmother might think should he fail to enter the house of the gallant, of those who lead with bravery and honor. He already wasn’t compatible with his father’s wand, he didn’t want to disappoint her further…
With his thoughts spiraling further into gloom and contemplating leaving the ball entirely, Neville doesn’t realize as his brow furrows and his glowing smile beginning to dim. It isn’t likely anyone would notice if I left either way. He also doesn’t notice anyone approaching until-
“Good evening, Heir Longbottom,” comes a charming voice from his right. Neville startles, accidently sloshing a bit of his punch over the side of his cup onto his hand. Blushing heavily, hand wet and punch now partially on the floor, Neville pulls himself out of his stupor and turns his attention to one Cedric Diggory, looking resplendent in robes cut perfectly to accentuate his dashing figure. Neville recalls watching Diggory dance with Chang in the opening waltz, gliding across the floor as most purebloods are taught well before Hogwarts- though Diggory did add his own flair to his dancing. He had notably enjoyed himself.
Noticing the damage he caused to poor Neville’s nerves by the unexpected greeting, Cedric’s smile changes into something smaller, slightly sheepish. Cedric rubs a hand to the back of his head saying, “Sorry Heir Longbottom, I should’ve been more direct with catching your attention first.” He pauses for a moment, then returns with, “I noticed you seemed to be thinking rather hard about something or other.”
Neville finally straightens up, still blushing profusely- like always, he thinks with despair.
Why can’t I ever talk to people like a normal person?!
“No need, Heir Diggory, to apologize,” he manages to get out finally, “and you may call me Neville, if you’d like.” He glances downward and offers his non-punch covered hand for a formal handshake. Like all purebloods raised from the Olde Houses, Neville had been brought up to understand the manners and customs of their society. Such as, one always begins an alliance, friendship, or even simply a friendly acquaintanceship with a firm handshake between two wizards. Witches, on the other hand, had the unfortunate obligation to curtsey. At least, that was how things were in the British Wizarding Society.
Unlike many of his peers, however, Neville had lived a rather sheltered childhood due to his grandmother’s protective urges and… well, the concerns that he may be a squib.
Neville is thankfully pulled from that depressing thought process- what would my family have done with me if I’d turned out to have not a single drop of magic?- by a return for his handshake from a now beaming Cedric Diggory. Diggory returns the handshake with a genteel nod of his head before bowing slightly over Neville’s hand, glazing upwards slightly beneath his lashes. “And I would be honored if you would call me Cedric.”
Neville could only stare, somewhat flabbergasted by the bow- bowing typically entailed a deference of status, a plea for some sort of assistance, or an acknowledgement of… courting? Intentions? As Cerdric straightens and continues, smoothly returning to his princely posture and smiling beatifically, though sincerely, he says, “I hope you don’t mind my saying this, but I couldn’t help but notice your wonderful dancing all evening.”
Neville, mind still sputtering somewhat from the bowing- what in the world, by Merlin- somehow manages to put out, “Oh, well thank you Cedric. That’s very kind coming from you, you’re a marvelous dancer!” Then, social grace diminishing the further he dithers on but unable to stop himself-
“But of course, I’m sure you’ve had loads of practice. My grandmother wouldn’t stand for anything less from me, though I’m grateful Ginny,” here Neville glances back to where Luna is pulling Ginny around in a spin completely out of time to the music merrily, “was willing to help me practice so much before the ball. Wouldn’t want to embarrass myself anymore than usual right? Your opening waltz was fantastic, you and Miss Chang were very well suited for each other. I noticed how you added that extra twirl into the sequence that Professor McGonagall had taught us in our house lessons-”
Here Neville finally paused in his ramblings, finally noting the wide, indulgent smile the Hufflepuff Champion was sending his way, mild color now high in Cedric’s cheeks after being complimented so profusely by the other boy. If possible, Neville felt his cheeks grow even warmer, cursing his pale complexion and knowing that at this point he undoubtedly could impersonate a tomato rather well. Ready to cut his losses and leave this mess behind- Neville grinds out, “Well, I was thinking-”
While at the same moment, Cedric extends his right hand, saying, “I had thought maybe-”
Smiling at the other, Cedric clears his throat and tries again once Neville waves an awkward hand in his direction, “Sorry! I had thought maybe you would honor me with a dance?”
And Neville…
Poor fellow…
Was. Not. Expecting. This.
Here’s the thing about Neville Longbottom. He’s a gangly herbology fanatic who tucks himself away with plants to avoid interactions with his peers where he will inevitably muck things up. He is an embarrassment to Gryffindor. He barely passes his practical spellwork classes. He doesn’t deserve attention from someone so special.
Here’s the thing about Cedric Diggory. He’s quintessentially royalty to the student body of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Every girl acts as though he’s hung the moon in the night sky. He’s the star Hufflepuff seeker. He’s a Hogwarts Triwizard Champion. He’s the most handsome boy in the school. He’s never dated anyone besides Cho Chang-
“What about Miss Chang?” Neville realizes belatedly that he hasn’t seen her nearby recently, or even in the past several waltzes now that he really thinks on it.
Cedric once again ruffles that hair on the back of his head, grinning, “She just came with me as a favor- everyone was expecting it and I didn’t want to disappoint my dad by coming with someone… else.” He falters in that last part, looking down-trodden for a split second before returning the cheery grin back to his face and giving a small laugh. “She’s with her friends now- doubt she’ll miss me much.”
Oh.
OH.
Though Neville had never met him personally, even Neville had heard of how… overbearing Lord Diggory could be. Lord of a lesser Olde House, Lord Diggory still manages to make himself something of a spectacle according to Neville’s gran… and he’d heard enough from Harry, Ron and even the twins about how Lord Diggory could wax poetic about his son’s many accomplishments.
Rather extensively, if they were to be believed.
And with an Olde House, there were certain… expectations of heirs. And who heirs could court… and who would be appropriate consorts for their house.
With Cedric’s bow earlier, he could've been indicating deference. House Longbottom is technically higher in the social strata of Wizarding Britain. But with his bow over their clasped hands, the way he looked up beneath his lashes…
Oh, indeed.
Now Neville takes in the older boy, who now seems to be becoming more nervous by the second. Neville’s need to take a moment to collect himself from a series of revelations about how they may not be so dissimilar after all had taken a small bit of time, after all: both laboring under heavy expectations, both set apart from their peers- though for entirely different reasons, and both perhaps wanting something their families would highly disapprove of.
Neville gathers his bravery, trying to put forth the visage of a great Gryffindor Knight deserving of standing next to a kindly Hufflepuff Prince, pulling his arm away from his own body and gallantly holding it out towards the other boy. “I,” Neville swallows more heavily than the situation truly requires, “I would be honored.”
Though initially seemingly startled by the abrupt change in Neville’s demeanor, Cedric grabs the slightly shorter boy’s arm and smiles softly at the acceptance, allowing Neville to lead the pair back towards the dance floor. Neville is supremely grateful for his growth spurt last summer.
Neville also, for the life of him, couldn’t remember when or where he’d set down his punch.
Oh well, not the time to panic about that.
Time to panic about making a good impression on the very handsome boy who wants to dance with him. Right now. In front of the entire school- besides the third years and below, of course. Well, excepting Ginny and Luna, though who knows where they scurried off to.
Nope, Neville is now embarking on a mission, steeling his spine and leading Cedric to the edge of the dance floor before determinedly facing him. Cedric, for his part, once again beams seeing Neville face him head on, gathering the slightly shorter boy closer and taking the position of the partner that follows.
Cedric will allow Neville to lead them through the dance. Neville is both pleased and determined to do his best for this boy who is giving him a chance, recalling the long sessions with his friends practicing every movement and gathering his confidence to lead.
“Ready?” Neville prompts with chivalrous courtesy, wanting to make sure his dance partner is prepared for their first dance.
“Born ready,” Cedric responds, letting out a bright laugh as Neville sweeps him away and uncaring of the eyes he draws to the pair as they truly begin their evening.