Charlie/Neville fic...

[kaellite]

NOTE: Despite the title...This is not a angst fic...

Title: Shattered
Pairing: Charlie/Neville
Warnings: Mention of consensual bondage, rough smex and wall smex (nothing explicit though)
Rating: R 
Word count: 200ish
Disclaimer:  Not mine, all JKR's, I am only playing with them with no intention of committing copyright infringement or profitting from it.

Summary:  Neville finds all he ever knew is shattered, and this is a good thing.

 So many things he thought he knew; lessons he'd learned and taken to heart.    Shattered,

He was slow, incompetant, clumsy, ineffetual, untalented.   All of these he had believed.  Yet in one year these truths were laid on thier proverbial ear.    He is quick to know right from wrong, not judging peoples quirks but understanding the choices they make in the dark night of their souls.   As for the rest....ask Ginny, ask Seamus, ask any of the first or second years who didn't go to bed twitching if any of those or true, but be prepared to be laughed at, or hexed.

But a lifetime of back handed praise, of being kissed and then kicked emotionally as it were, still linger

For instance he sees in the mirror a chubby and round faced boy even though the baby fat is gone and he is quite slender (Funny how one year can have lasting impact on one's body among other things,  but only if you like irony or dark humour).

He was taught to believe that people with tattoos were deviants among other things; the last reinforced by the Dark Mark on those that took his parents from him and who would have taken his friends.

He learned on his own that while most may go through life two by two, he was the exception; just as others could be carefree but he had to be responsible.   While others could be rough, he had to be gentle.

Lastly, it was rude, inapproprite and selfish to ask for something for yourself; and that no one would understand if he did.

Or so he thought.

But when he is pressed agains the wall, his clothes spelled away and lifted like the waif he never was (not physically at any rate), he is no longer chubby.

When he is held in place by a hand and a cock so big it seems to spear right through him, he feels small in a wonderful way.

As he comes splattering the coarse hair rubbing against his own smooth stomach, his hands tear the ruched t-shirt in his grip leaving marks in their wake.

Ordered to clean up the mess, he drops to his knees and then slowly works his way up and around, all thought gone except to trace the outline of the scars and the tattos he loves so much.

"Tell me what you want, Love.  It's my job to take care of you,"

All he has to say is Please and they are gone; Molly's kitchen will never quite be the same, but she doesn't  mind not even that the wall paper is ripped and torn in new places.   She considers it a small price to pay to have a new member to her family, especially one who kept her from losing more than she could have born.

In their own flat, with his hands and feet bound and drained dry as his lover, his Love, finally allows himself release in Neville's spent form, he falls asleep.   When he wakes his arms are free and wrapped around broad shoulders, as scarred hands prepare him once again, and he knows he can ask, he can be selfish, he can be gentle and rough, needy and demanding, and so much more.

All of this will come to him as he falls apart in Charlie's arms and under his ministrations feeling a freedom he only came close to knowing that horrible year in the times he emptied himself into Seamus' willing body (and the first time he knew big could be something desireable)

Funny how watching some things shatter can be so rewarding.