(I don't know if you guys hate it when people do this or not, but I know I absolutely despise it when someone writes a story where you insert your name for the main character and then they throw in some random thing like (Y/F/U). Seriously, what's that supposed to mean? Your Fishing Umbrella? Save the umbrellas for Mycroft, all right? Just let me read the story in peace.

Okay I'm done ranting. I threw a couple strange (Y/F) things in here, so I'll write a "key code" for you so it'll be easier.

(Y/F/L) = Your Favorite Lesson.

(Y/S/F/L) = Your Second Favorite Lesson.

(Y/L/N) = Your Last Name.

(Y/W/H) = Your Writing Hand.

So yeah. On with the story!)

You sigh, shifting your book bag on your shoulder to a more comfortable position. You were a fifth year at Hogwarts, and things weren't going well for you. You were a straight E student, with a couple O's scattered around your favorite lessons, such as (Y/F/L) and (Y/S/F/L), but that didn't mean life was all perfect. No, quite the opposite, actually. A new professor had come to Hogwarts, by the name of Dolores Umbridge. You hated her with a passion, she hated you... And boy did she let you know it.

Today, for example, you had stood up for Harry Potter in her lousy excuse for a Defense Against the Dark Arts class, saying that he wasn't the liar, she was. That didn't go over well, to say the least. Now you had detention this afternoon over the lunch hour, and that's where you were headed. You were glad, however, that she had given you detention this afternoon rather than this evening, mainly because Harry was teaching another class for Dumbledore's Army in the Room of Requirement, and you really wanted to be there.

Not because your long-time crush was going to be there... Of course not.

You reached Professor Umbridge's door, and you knocked hesitantly.

"Come in." A sickly sweet voice ordered, and your body moved against your will, turning the knob and walking into the office. The sight before your eyes made your stomach queazy. Everything was pink and fluffy. It was torture enough just looking at it; now you had to serve detention? This was going to be a nightmare.

A bright pink, meowing, fluffy nightmare.

"Ah, Miss (Y/L/N). So glad you could make it. Please, take a seat. Today we will be writing lines." Professor Umbridge simpered, setting down her teacup on it's saucer and standing up, smoothing her pink cardigan. She motioned her hand towards a desk in a middle of the room directly in front of her own desk, and you walked to it, trying your best to ignore the hundreds of kitten eyes on the walls watching your every move.

You sat at the desk and reached for your quill and parchment in your bag, but Professor Umbridge stopped you by clearing her throat annoyingly.

"You won't be needing your quill and parchment dear; you may use a special one of mine." She said, setting down a page of parchment and a quill before you. "Now, I want you to write, 'I must not disrespect my elders'."

You took the quill in your (Y/W/H) and looked up at the toad of a woman. "You haven't given me any ink." You stated, looking up.

"Oh, you won't need any ink." She simpered, turning to the window.

"How many?" You asked after a moment of silence punctuated by kitten mews.

"Hmm?" she squeaked.

"How many lines."

Umbridge cracked an evil looking smile. "Oh, just as long as it takes for the message to sink in."

You turn back to the parchment. "Then I guess I'll be in here a while." You thought bitterly, and began to write.

You had barely written two lines when a stinging sensation began to burn into your opposite hand. You scrunched up your face and ignored it, continuing the lines you had been instructed to write.

I must not disrespect my elders.
I must no-

The pain in your hand intensified greatly, and you gave a small gasp. Looking down, you saw quite plainly the red scratch marks of your writing not only on the parchment, but on your hand as well.

"Something the matter, dear?" Umbridge simpered, turning to face you. You were about to tell her just what was the matter when her office door opened. You looked up to see who it was, but looked down immediately to hide your blush.

Neville Longbottom stood awkwardly in the doorway, handling a rather large potted plant. "Professor Sprout said you wanted this."

Umbridge clearly looked annoyed at his disturbance, but she masked it quickly with another sickly smile. "Yes, yes, set it over there on my desk."

Neville did as he was told. He walked over, set the plant on the desk, and turned around. As he was passing your desk he suddenly tripped, landing directly on top of you. You let out a surprised yelp, and you felt his fingers slip something into your pocket. You tried to catch his eye, but he was determinedly refusing to look at you. That is, until he caught sight of your hand.

"A-are you o-"

"That'll be all then, Longbottom?" Professor Umbridge snapped, losing her simper momentarily. She quickly tried to hide it by sweetly adding, "As you can clearly see, we're in the middle of detention."

Neville nodded, taking one last look at your hand before getting up and walking hurriedly out the door. Umbridge slammed it behind him and simpered, "Continue please, Miss (Y/L/N)."

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As you shouldered your bag on your right arm, you walked quickly out of Unbridge's office. As soon as the door closed behind you, you walked around the corner and pulled out the thing Neville had slipped into your pocket.

It was a note, signifying the start of the DA meeting. According to the note, Harry's class was going to start any minute, and you didn't want to be late. You pulled a handkerchief out of your bag and hastily wrapped your hand, which was now throbbing with pain.

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Just as you were walking down the hallway of the seventh floor, you ran into Neville again.

No, you literally ran into him. He was coming from one direction, you from the other....

Yeah.

You stumbled back a bit, blushing. "H-hi, Neville."

Neville blushed as well. "Hi." He looked down at your hand, which he noticed was wrapped in a (House Colors) handkerchief. He started to say "H-how's your h-" but he was cut off as the two of you heard Filch's voice from around the corner. You both race down the hallway to the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and duck into the Room of Requirement, which was fading just in time.

Safely inside the Room, you and Neville leaned against the mirror-lined wall.

"Where is everybody?" You asked, looking around at the empty Room. "They should be here by now."

Neville looked sheepish, flustering with his hands absently. "I-I told you to come early so I could fix your hand," he admitted, looking down.

You smiled. "That was very sweet of you," you said, touching his arm with your good hand. Neville looked at you, seeming to perk up a bit at your words.

"Let me see your hand," Neville said quietly, sinking down the wall to sit on the floor. You did the same, holding your hand out reluctantly for him to see. He took your small hand carefully in his larger ones, making you blush, and unwrapped your makeshift bandage. What he saw caused him to gasp and you to cringe. The skin on the top of your hand had become raw and red, making it look like one giant blister. Faintly visible were the delicate, but lethal, strokes of your own handwriting. He stroked his fingers around the area of the cut, causing tingles to reverberate up and down your spine.

"I must not disrespect my elders." Neville read aloud. "At least she admits she's old."

You chuckled, and Neville laughed a little. He suddenly reached into his bag, bringing out a small jar of some thick, golden, transparent liquid.

"What's that?" You ask curiously.

"Honey and aloe. It's a mixture of two Muggle cures. Honey is usually used to prevent infection, while aloe can be used on skin sores and reduce itching. Professor Sprout and I have been working on creating a hybrid for the Wizarding world; one that will heal wounds altogether." He explained with a slight hint of pride in his voice. You smiled; you always loved hearing about the things Neville enjoyed.

Unscrewing the lid, Neville dipped two fingers into the jar and spread the gooey substance onto your now throbbing hand. You hissed slightly as it initially burned, but the sensation soon began to die down, quickly being replaced by relief. You sighed in content as the cool substance began to cure the itchiness around the edges of your cuts, and dull the painful throbbing coming from the center.

"Better?" Neville asked, his fingers lingering on your skin several moments longer than was needed. You nodded, a smile playing across your lips.

"Thank you," you said quietly as you watched him take your cloth over to a sink that had appeared out of nowhere. He rinsed it clear of blood and returned to you, sitting back on the ground and taking your hand once more in his. He rewrapped the bandage around your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing your hand softly. You blushed deeper than you ever had before, and Neville's face wasn't much different. He quickly pulled away and got up, striding to the other side of the Room.

"I'm sorry," he was muttering over and over. "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry..."

You stood slowly and walked over to him, placing your hand on his shoulder.

You should tell him now, you thought. It's the perfect timing.

"N-Neville, I-" you started to say, but he cut you off.

"(Y/N), before you say anything, there's something I need to tell you." You fell silent, awaiting his next words with baited breath. "(Y/N), I-I've like you for a long time. Actually, not like. I've loved you ever since we met in first year, and I know you'll probably never like me back, but I just couldn't help myself anym-"

Now it was your turn to cut him off. Grinning ear to ear, you placed your good hand behind his neck and pulled him down to you, his lips meeting yours in a sweet, quick kiss.

"I love you too, Neville." You whispered as you broke away. Neville's face nearly split from the enormous smile that broke free. He leaned back down and gently captured your lips in a passionate kiss. He seemed nervous at first, but when he realized you actually meant what you had said and weren't going to back away, he began to get more comfortable with himself and deepened the kiss. He slipped his hands around your waist and pulled you closer....

Suddenly the Room burst into the sounds of catcalls, clapping and whooping. Everyone else had finally showed up for Harry's lesson, just in time to catch the finale. You and Neville broke away, blushing madly.

Just as you were about to walk away, Neville caught your good hand. With a sudden burst of confidence, he looked into your (E/C) eyes and said, "Will you be my girlfriend?"

Nodding profusely, another wide grin stretched across your face. "Of course."

Never in your wildest dreams had either of you imagined that showing up for class early would have gone so well.
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A/N

Woohoo! I got another imagine done! I'm still working on an imagine for @askingthehorizon17 , so if anybody knows anything about Game of Thrones or Arya Stark please help me out! I'm going to watch episode 1 season 1 at some point, so hopefully that'll help a lot. Hopefully.

Hope you guys enjoyed this imagine... I haven't done one with Neville before so I thought, eh, why not.

Let me know what you think and please keep sending requests!

Vote. Comment. Share.

~Miluiel