Everything (REIMAGINED) neville x reader

Chapter 17-Care

The sunlight filtering into the Hospital Wing felt too bright, too invasive for the heavy exhaustion that weighed down (Y/N)'s body. Her eyes fluttered open, and the first thing she noticed was Neville now sitting beside her bed. His face was etched with concern, and she could see how the worry had drained him.

"Hey," his voice was soft, filled with relief that she was awake. He reached forward, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. The simple gesture was so tender, so careful, that it made her chest tighten.

She's awake. Thank Merlin she's awake. But she still looks so fragile... I hate seeing her like this, but at least she's here. With me.

"How are you feeling?" Neville asked quietly, his hand lingering near hers. He was close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off him.

"I'll be okay," (Y/N) whispered, her voice hoarse. "Thanks for staying with me."

Neville opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, (Y/N) leaned in, and without a second thought, pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. The action was instinctual, born from a need to express gratitude, but the moment her lips touched his skin, time seemed to freeze.

The kiss was gentle, barely a whisper, but it felt like lightning had struck both of them. Neville's breath hitched in his throat, and his mind scrambled to process the sensations coursing through him.

Did she—did that really just happen? Did she kiss me? His heart thudded violently in his chest, and he could feel the heat rushing to his face. His eyes widened slightly, but when he turned to look at her, she hadn't pulled away completely. Their faces were still close, her breath mingling with his.

(Y/N)'s eyes met his, wide and startled as if she hadn't realized what she had done until it was too late. The world around them seemed to blur, leaving only the two of them in this charged, breathless moment.

I kissed him. Oh God, I kissed him. Why did I do that so easily? And why is he looking at me like that?

Her heart raced, panic mixing with something else—something much more electric. Her lips tingled from the contact, and she couldn't pull her gaze from his. The tension between them was palpable, like a cord being pulled tighter and tighter, ready to snap at any second.

Neville swallowed hard, his eyes flicking down to her lips for the briefest moment before snapping back up to meet hers. I shouldn't be thinking about this. I shouldn't want... but I do. I do want it. God, I want it more than I should.

The air between them felt thick, laden with unspoken words and desires neither of them were ready to confront. (Y/N) bit her lip nervously, the movement drawing Neville's gaze again.

(Y/N) felt her cheeks burn under his eyes, her own pulse quickening. She had never seen him look at her like this before, so intense, so focused. The energy crackling between them felt dangerous, exhilarating even, and she couldn't deny that the idea of him closing the small distance between them made her stomach twist in knots.

She inhaled sharply, breaking the moment's spell. "Neville, I—" she began, her voice shaky.

But Neville stepped back just enough to let her breathe, his heart still pounding in his chest. "We should... head to breakfast," he said, his voice hoarse. He tried to smile, but it came out awkward, a thin attempt to ground them both.

"Yeah... breakfast," (Y/N) murmured, but even as she spoke, her thoughts lingered on the kiss, the look in his eyes, and the way her body had reacted to him being so close.

The walk to the Great Hall was filled with quiet tension. Every time their hands accidentally brushed against each other, it sent a jolt through both of them, and neither could look the other in the eye for long. They sat down at the Gryffindor table, the chatter of the students around them a distant hum compared to the thoughts running wild in their heads.

Neville kept glancing at (Y/N), still unable to shake the feeling of her lips on his skin. She kissed me. She actually kissed me. And now all I can think about is wanting more. But how can I be thinking this when she's still recovering? How can I be thinking of this when I know my place, her friend, I shouldn't take her act of gratitude for any more than it was but—

Across the room, Draco Malfoy strode up to the Gryffindor table with his usual arrogance, his eyes landing on (Y/N) and Neville. His lip curled into a smirk.

"Decided to sit with the Gryffindors now, have you?" Draco drawled, his voice oozing disdain. "How fitting. I suppose Longbottom's incompetence must be rubbing off on you."

(Y/N) stiffened, meeting Draco's gaze with a mixture of exhaustion and defiance. "I can sit wherever I want, Malfoy," she said coldly.

His sneer deepened. "Right, of course. I'm sure the Gryffindor table is thrilled to have you here. They love picking up strays, after all."

Neville clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. "Back off, Malfoy." Draco's eyes flicked between the two of them, a sharp, almost calculating glint in his gaze. His expression darkened for a moment, something hard and cold crossing his face as he looked at (Y/N). But then, just as quickly, his sneer faltered, and a trace of something else—something more human—flashed behind his eyes.

She doesn't look right... something's off. It's like she's... broken. And I know that feeling all too well.

Draco's voice softened slightly, though the arrogance was still there. "You should be more careful, (Y/N). Darkness tends to follow people like you, and it's not always the kind you can control."

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes, her fists tightening. "And what would you know about darkness, Draco?" A bitter laugh escaped his lips, but there was no humor in it. "More than you realize." His eyes met hers again, and for a fleeting second, she could see something deeper—a weight, a burden, that he was carrying. He didn't say anything more, just turned on his heel and walked away, leaving (Y/N) and Neville to exchange confused glances.

Before she could dwell on it, the Gryffindors around them began to express their own concern. Ron leaned in, his face serious. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Hermione nodded in agreement. "We've all been worried, (Y/N)." She smiled faintly, feeling a rush of warmth from the care they showed. "I'll be fine," she said, though the events of the past night still weighed heavily on her mind.

And (Y/N), despite everything, couldn't stop thinking about the kiss she had planted on his cheek. The tension between them wasn't gone—it was still there, simmering just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to erupt again.

What does this mean? And why do I feel like I want to kiss him again... for real this time?