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adventdrabblesTitle: Winter Jazz Festival
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Neville/Charlie
Rating: PG
WC: 300
Neville kept the side gig quiet. By day, he worked with plants, steady and calm, the sort of person no one imagined slipping into a dim jazz club after dusk. But every winter, when the city lights blurred into soft gold, and the air hummed with cold magic, he played the piano for the Winter Jazz Festival. It was the one place he felt free, hands moving like spells across the keys.
This year, something went wrong.
A strange frost crept through the city, neither natural nor kind. Instruments froze mid-note, stages cracked, and the festival board whispered about cancelling the whole thing. Neville sat at the piano, touching the stiff, iced keys. Even the magic in his music could not melt them.
That was when Charlie walked in.
He smelled of smoke and winter air, cheeks red from the cold, hair wild from flying. He looked at the ruined stage, then at Neville, and grinned like someone ready for trouble.
“You need an ally,” Charlie said. “Lucky for you, I’m good with fire.”
Neville blinked. “You’re… volunteering?”
“Well,” Charlie said, stepping closer, heat rolling off him in soft waves, “I like festivals. And I like pianists who don’t give up.”
Together, they worked through the night. Neville played gentle warming spells into stubborn metal strings, while Charlie coaxed controlled flames through the room, melting only what needed to melt. The frost hissed and retreated, slithering out like a defeated spirit.
When the last patch of ice dissolved, Neville rested his hands on the keys and breathed out. “You saved it,” he said quietly.
Charlie shook his head. “We saved it.”
Outside, the city stirred awake again, warm lights returning, winter magic settling into something sweet instead of sharp.
And Neville realised he wasn’t going to keep this part of his life secret much longer. Not from someone who turned a frozen night into something glowing.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Neville/Charlie
Rating: PG
WC: 300
Neville kept the side gig quiet. By day, he worked with plants, steady and calm, the sort of person no one imagined slipping into a dim jazz club after dusk. But every winter, when the city lights blurred into soft gold, and the air hummed with cold magic, he played the piano for the Winter Jazz Festival. It was the one place he felt free, hands moving like spells across the keys.
This year, something went wrong.
A strange frost crept through the city, neither natural nor kind. Instruments froze mid-note, stages cracked, and the festival board whispered about cancelling the whole thing. Neville sat at the piano, touching the stiff, iced keys. Even the magic in his music could not melt them.
That was when Charlie walked in.
He smelled of smoke and winter air, cheeks red from the cold, hair wild from flying. He looked at the ruined stage, then at Neville, and grinned like someone ready for trouble.
“You need an ally,” Charlie said. “Lucky for you, I’m good with fire.”
Neville blinked. “You’re… volunteering?”
“Well,” Charlie said, stepping closer, heat rolling off him in soft waves, “I like festivals. And I like pianists who don’t give up.”
Together, they worked through the night. Neville played gentle warming spells into stubborn metal strings, while Charlie coaxed controlled flames through the room, melting only what needed to melt. The frost hissed and retreated, slithering out like a defeated spirit.
When the last patch of ice dissolved, Neville rested his hands on the keys and breathed out. “You saved it,” he said quietly.
Charlie shook his head. “We saved it.”
Outside, the city stirred awake again, warm lights returning, winter magic settling into something sweet instead of sharp.
And Neville realised he wasn’t going to keep this part of his life secret much longer. Not from someone who turned a frozen night into something glowing.
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Date: 2025-12-09 11:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-12-10 01:53 am (UTC)