Good Girl Gone Bad [LIV BLACK]

November, 1993

"Neville?"

She turned to the boy she'd only spoken too a couple of times, he was exactly as Liv described. Clueless. Stupid. Really sweet, actually. He wiped away the milk dripping from the corner of his mouth with the back of his sleeve and drew away his eyes from the blank spot in front of him that he seemed to be very interested in, and smiled softly.

"Hello!"

He sounded so cheerful, so full of love. If only he'd joined in with the previous conversation when everyone was unknowingly towering over a poster of her father, she'd could have done with such a jovial tone back then. Nonetheless, Liv smiled back.

She looked blankly at the spot Neville had been staring at for a brief moment, before tuning back to the boy who had a breakfast spoon gripped in one hand and a bowl of cornflakes sprinkled with sugar in the other.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes! Yes..." Neville began to stammer, and to Liv's displeasure, turned an awful shade of red. "Sorry I – I daydream a lot. You caught me off guard,"

"Oh! Okay..."

The pair both stirred awkwardly at their own bowls of cereals. Liv hadn't exactly planned out what she was going to do, or what she was going to say – and this strange boy was definitely making it a lot harder.

"I still can't believe someone broke out of Azkaban," she offered, hoping to start up a conversation with the boy. "That's scary stuff,"

"I know, it's horrible," Neville nodded, a saddened expression on his face. He turned back to his cereal, leaving Liv staring hopelessly at him.

She'd never met someone so unwilling to talk – especially to her, she was Liv fucking Black! She wouldn't want to sound patronising, but who wouldn't want to talk to her? She dug her spoon at the cereal; she'd always been taught not to play with her food, but what else could be done in a situation like this?

"I wonder what people do to get a life sentence?" Liv asked. She knew the answer – she knew her father had murdered all those people, she just needed to know if her mother had done the same.

For the first time, Neville looked Liv in the eye. "My parents were tourtured, she's in Azkaban for life,"

Liv scowled herself for taunting his lack of conversing, for he'd just spilled everything she'd wanted him too – and very quickly too, leaving her startled to the point her cheerio filled spoon splashed back down into the bowl as her grip loosed on it in shock.

She was silent.

He was silent, too.

How else could you react after finding out the awkward little boy of Gryffindor had so much trouble in his past? That his parents faced the worst consequences of the first wizarding war?

Neville stood from the table rather quickly, knocking over his bowl as he did so. The milk spilled and trickled down the side of the table forming a puddle at his feet. Maybe he hadn't noticed, or maybe he'd chose to ignore it. "I hope that answered your question, I hope I helped,"

"Wait, Neville?" Liv called, desperate to pull her legs out of the puzzle that was the great hall benches. She found her feet and was forced to run to catch up with the boy. "Do you want to come to Hogsmede with me today?" She asked, breathless.

"You – you want to go to Hogsmede with me?"

Liv, still very much out of breath after running so early in the morning, smiled widely and nodded.

"Uh, yes. Yes... okay,"

"Great!"

━━━━━━━━