Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/399858.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Neville_Longbottom/Harry_Potter
  Character:
      Neville_Longbottom, Harry_Potter
  Collections:
      Ink_Stained_Fingers
  Stats:
      Published: 2004-05-03 Words: 6545
****** Rabbit-light ******
by Memorycharm_(tzy)
Summary
     Neville's got a charm to help him get through Potions, and it helps
     him make some other moves, too. Harry's a bit clueless.
Notes
     Written in 2004 for the Woobies of Destiny ficathon for the
     challenge: "Neville is more sexually sophisticated and experienced
     than Harry."
And to feel the light is a rabbit-light,
In which everything is meant for you
And nothing need be explained;
--Wallace Stevens, "A Rabbit as King of the Ghosts."

*
 
Harry drew a breath and walked into the Advanced Potions classroom. He'd wanted
to delay it as much as possible, but the idea of walking in late and having
Snape cut into him right away made him ill.
"Don't tell me Potter got his Potions OWL." Malfoy's sneering stage whisper
made Harry grit his teeth. Of course Malfoy had to be in Advanced Potions.
Harry ignored him. He needed a Potions NEWT if he wanted to be an Auror;
therefore, he needed to bear Malfoy's taunts and Snape's malice. Thankfully,
Hermione and Ron were both in Snape's Advanced Potions class, too. He needn't
bear it alone.
"At least he didn't--" Ron muttered. He gestured for Harry to join him and
Hermione, at their table. Unlike the Potions classroom Harry was familiar with,
this room was filled with high tables, each with a set of jars and beakers and
strange distilling devices. It rather resembled a mad-scientist's laboratory
from an old black and white Muggle film.
"What? Somebody greased their way in, and it wasn't a Slytherin," Malfoy spat,
glaring at them. "Professor Snape never accepts more than three students from
each house into his NEWT Potions class. This year, he's been forced to take on
a fourth Gryffindor. My money's on Potty." Pansy and Millicent snickered. "We
know it couldn't have been you, Weasel, you haven't got the funds--"
"Really, Malfoy, haven't you got any new things to dislike about us?" Hermione
broke in, rolling her eyes.
"Who's the fourth?" Ron whispered, after checking to see if Malfoy was paying
attention. "Hermione? It's got to be a girl. Seamus and Dean burnt their
Potions texts, and well, it couldn't possibly be Neville...."
Harry wondered, too. He was worried that it was him, that Dumbledore had
pressured Snape into letting him in, and it would all turn out as disastrously
as Occlumency had. He knew Dumbledore must have stepped in somehow, since Snape
said he only accepted students with an 'Outstanding' Potions OWL, and he'd got
an 'Exceeds Expections' (and that was surprising enough). Yet, when he'd got
his list of texts for Sixth year, there it had been: Dreadfully Difficult and
Dangerous Draughts: A Perplexing Primer by Orlando Osmosis. Snape would be
worse than ever if he'd been forced to take Harry on again.
"No, Lavender and Parvati couldn't stop going on about being rid of Snape
forever... Oh!" Hermione gasped and looked at the doorway.
There, clutching his text and cauldron tightly at his side, stood Neville.
"Oh, no," Malfoy said loudly. "Everyone brush up on shielding charms."
Neville glanced at Malfoy briefly before raising his chin and walking over to
the Gryffindors.
"Neville?" Hermione said in a short squeak.
"H- hullo," Neville said flatly. Harry was about to question him when the door
opened again, and more students filed in: three Ravenclaws and two Hufflepuffs,
followed shortly by Professor Snape himself.
"You will each take a table to yourself," Snape said with no preamble. "It will
be your work area for the remainder of the year. You are responsible for its
cleanliness and care; no house-elves are allowed into the Advanced Potions
classroom." He paused and surveyed the room, glaring down his beak-like nose.
"There will be no partnered work in this room," he continued, lowering his
voice to an almost-whisper. "No opportunities to ride on the coattails of
others." His black eyes darted to each student, finally resting on the
Gryffindors.
"Ah. Mister Longbottom," he said, venom oozing from every syllable. "I had to
cut a perfectly adequate Hufflepuff to allow space for... you. Professor Sprout
was most unhappy."
Harry clenched his fists under his table. Professor Sprout was Neville's
favorite teacher; Snape wouldn't hesitate in trying to turn her against
Neville.
"You do understand, Longbottom, that the first exploding cauldron, the first
disastrous potion, you will be immediately withdrawn from this class?"
"Yes, sir," Neville said in a monotone. Harry glanced at him. He wasn't
nervously twitching, and his face wasn't flushed. Neville just looked at
Professor Snape with a blank expression.
Snape narrowed his eyes. "Well, you won't have Granger to whisper the correct
ingredients into your ear. We shall see how long you last." He whipped his gaze
to Harry. "And you, Potter. Professor McGonagall is in my debt twice over. I
have never allowed students with such dismal OWLs into my class as yours and
Longbottom's."
Harry blinked and fought the urge to reply. Snape would pounce the first chance
he got; Harry didn't intend to give him a chance.
"Now, Longbottom," Snape continued, tapping his long fingers to his mouth, "why
don't you enlighten us as to the reason for adding mallowsweet last when
brewing the Diviner's Drink?"
"Er," Neville started. Harry's stomach dropped. Snape was going to eat Neville
alive. "Because the fumes can cause dizziness and hallucination, if you breathe
them for too long. Um, sir."
Snape was silent. Hermione's eyes were like trenchers.
"He got it right, didn't he?" Ron said.
"Silence!" Snape's eyes fixed on Ron. "Five points from Gryffindor for
interrupting." He turned to Neville. "And five more points from Gryffindor for
answering too slowly and delaying my lecture." He drew his back up stiff and
straight. "Now. This term, you will brew the Draught of Dreams. It is a complex
and temperamental concoction, but one that serves as the base for many other
valuable potions...."
Snape didn't call on Neville again.
*
After the lesson, Hermione cornered Neville in the corridor. "What have you
done?" she said sharply. Harry thought she sounded a little rude. Maybe Neville
had just grown up a bit over the summer holiday. They were sixteen now, not
really children anymore.
Harry had thought of Neville on his birthday, now that he knew it was probably
his birthday, too, or close to. He wondered if Neville's Gran was the sort to
go in for cakes and candles.
Neville sighed. "All right. It- it's something Professor McGonagall gave me,"
he said. He pulled up his right robe sleeve and revealed a thin silver bracelet
with some odd markings all round.
"Is that..." Hermione grabbed Neville's wrist and examined the markings.
"It's an Impavidus device," Neville said.
"Those can be really dangerous, Neville," Hermione said. "You have to be very
careful. Without a healthy fear response, you could end up doing something
foolish--"
"I know, Professor McGonagall told me everything," Neville said in the same
flat tone he'd used whenever Snape has asked him a question.
Ron and Harry exchanged a look. "What does it do?" Harry asked, peering down at
Neville's wrist.
"It, uh, it helps..." Neville's face scrunched up as he chose his words. "It
makes it so I forget about why Professor Snape makes me so afrai-
- uncomfortable. Or, no, it's more like it doesn't matter, so I don't worry
about it. I can remember things better if I'm not worried." He raised his
eyebrows, looking surprised. "There's a lot of Herbology involved. I don't know
why I didn't see that before."
"Whatever it does, that was brilliant," Ron said, slapping Neville on his back.
"Snape didn't know what hit him."
"Right," Neville said, snapping the silver band off of his wrist. His face
softened and relaxed for a minute, then settled into its usual slightly worried
state. "It was sort of nice, with Snape, wasn't it...."
Harry nodded along with Ron. "It was great," he said.
"We should make plans to study together in the library," Hermione said, pulling
out her homework planner. "What? He didn't say anything about not working
together outside the classroom." She clapped her hands together excitedly. "We
can combine research! The Alucine-class potions are supposed to be
fascinating...."
Ron rolled his eyes, but Harry and Neville agreed at once.
"Why do you want to take Potions anyway?" Ron said. "I'd drop it if I could."
Neville flushed red. "I- with the way things are, and what happened last
year... I want to do something. I can be an Herbologist anytime. I can fight, I
know I can. I'm much better with spells now that I have a new wand. I just need
to get through Potions. Every career I looked at requires a Potions NEWT."
*
The scream broke through the Gryffindor dormitory and wrenched Harry from
sleep. He reached for his wand and pulled his heavy bed drapes open. Ron poked
his head out at the same time, blinking sleep crust from his eyes. "Neville?"
he said, looking to Harry.
"I think..." Harry said. They both crept over to Neville's bed.
"Whassat?" Seamus said, sticking his head out.
"Neville?" Harry said, peering into Neville's bed. "Are you all right?"
"Fine," Neville said from the darkness. "Just a bad dream." He sat up and cast
Lumos. "Did I make a noise?"
"Noise?" Seamus said, snorting. "You screamed like a girl, mate."
Neville smiled, then quickly frowned. Two spots of red dotted his round cheeks.
Harry perched on the edge of Neville's bed. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine," Neville said. "You don't have to make a fuss and act like I'm made
of glass."
"Where's Dean?" Ron said suddenly, looking over at Dean's silent bed. His face
looked pale and pinched. "I'm going to kill him. First him, then Ginny," he
muttered, stomping over and pulling Dean's drapes. The bed was empty.
Harry looked at Neville and grinned. Neville smiled back, and Harry's grin got
wider. Soon, they started to laugh, going from small chuckles to loud,
sidesplitting guffaws in seconds.
"What?" Ron said.
*
The next Potions class, Neville attacked his work with a ferocious single-
mindedness. He took down every word that Snape uttered, writing quickly and
smearing ink on his hand. He didn't raise his hand, but when Snape questioned
him specifically--on the differences between the three main varieties of truth
potions--he was able to answer correctly.
Harry wanted to be happy for Neville, but he couldn't help feeling a spark of
jealousy; he wanted to be able to act like Snape didn't bother him anymore.
But he couldn't. Each word out of Snape's mouth was like salt in a seeping
wound. Harry heard Sirius's death in every syllable. Trying to hold his tongue
and keep his temper in check was excruciating, and he had two more years of it
to endure. Sometimes, his body would start to shake without warning; he felt
empty when that happened.
*
"Harry? Harry, are you awake?"
"Mm, what? Who's there?" Harry half-sat and rubbed his eyes. His bed drape was
open, and moonlight streamed through the dormitory windows.
"It's me, Neville," Neville said, sitting down at the foot of Harry's bed.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I-- I just... It is nicer with Snape, now, right?" Neville rubbed his
pajama-clad arm.
"Yeah, s'brilliant," Harry said, licking the corners of his mouth. Neville's
hair stuck out in all directions. Harry thought about trying to flatten it with
his hands, and a warm feeling pooled in his stomach. "Why?"
"I don't know.... It's-- why do I need this thing?" Neville pulled up his
pajama sleeve and revealed the thin silver charm. "Why can't I do it on my own,
like you?"
Harry laughed. "I've been wondering if McGonagall would give me one."
Neville scoffed. "You don’t need one; I do. Without it, I'd have fallen apart
on the first day." He slid down, closer to Harry. "And without it, I'd never
have the nerve to--"
Harry watched Neville bend down, like he was going in for a kiss, which was
silly, because Harry had only ever kissed Cho before, and the idea of his
second kiss coming from Neville Longbottom was-- and then Neville kissed Harry,
right on the lips.
It was soft, and a little clumsy, but nice. Harry was so startled that his
mouth gaped open like a fish. Neville ran his tongue along Harry's bottom lip
and pulled away.
"Neville--" Harry said, not really understanding what had just happened. Did
Neville fancy him? Was Neville a poof? Did he fancy Neville? If Harry fancied
Neville, did that mean Harry was a poof? A very disconcerting image of Dudley
wearing a knowing grin came to mind.
"Sorry," Neville said. "I don't-- just forget it, all right?"
"No," Harry said suddenly.
"What?" Neville's voice was barely a whisper. Harry sat up and grabbed
Neville's arm.
"I won't forget it," he said. "I mean, I don't think I want to."
"What?" Neville repeated. Harry didn't really know what to say next, so he
leaned in and kissed Neville. Or, he tried--he missed Neville's mouth and
bumped their noses together.
"Ow," Neville said, but Harry could tell even in the moonlight that he was
smiling.
"Here," Harry said, cupping Neville's cheek and adjusting his trajectory. This
time, their lips met. Harry couldn't help but compare this kiss with Cho's.
Hers had been teary and nothing like he'd expected; this was firm, and there
were a few prickly hairs dusting Neville's top lip. It wasn't like anything
Harry had expected either, but this time the unexpectedness was exhilarating.
Neville parted his lips and Harry mouth opened with them, allowing Neville to
slide his tongue in. Harry stifled a moan. There was a direct wire from his
tongue to his cock; Neville's tongue slipped against and massaged Harry's,
sending liquid warmth along that wire, and to every nerve ending in between.
He did moan when he tasted Neville's mouth, chocolaty and slightly sour, but
wonderful.
The sound of the door opening startled them apart. They watched Dean tiptoe in,
holding his shoes and eying Ron's bed warily.
Harry's heart was pounding and his cock was so hard he thought if he just
rubbed it against Neville's leg once, he'd come in a flood.
"Dean!" Ron yelled. Dean yelped and dropped his shoes. Harry groaned.
"I suppose I ought to go back to my bed," Neville whispered.
"Yeah," Harry said, though it was the last thing he wanted.
It was hours before Harry got to sleep.
*
"Ginny doesn't know what she's got into with Dean," Ron muttered for the
umpteenth time.
"Shh!" Hermione said, gesturing at the large open book in front of Ron. Harry
kept his eyes focused on the book in front of him. Neville was sitting across
the table, and Harry couldn't meet his eyes without feeling a hot flush come
over his face.
"Do you know Dean was out past midnight for three nights in a row this week?"
Ron said, ignoring Hermione.
"Adding three drops of Papaver sap alters the potion significantly, producing a
thick, black, sludgelike concoction that can induce prophetic dreams in persons
inclined towards the Sight."
Harry read the sentence five times without comprehending a word. Neville's toe
kept tapping against his foot under the table, whether on purpose or by
accident, Harry didn't know, but it made it impossible to concentrate on
anything else.
"Dean had better not try anything funny," Ron went on. "Ginny can get a
little... weird when she, er, fancies someone." He shot a look at Harry.
"Oh, for pity's sake," Hermione said, slamming her book shut and standing up.
"Ginny is perfectly capable of choosing who she wants to go out with. And with
six brothers, it's not as though she doesn't know anything about boys. Why
don’t you just-- mind your own business." She gathered up her notes and started
to walk away. "I'm going back to the common room to study," she called over her
shoulder.
"Wha--? Ginny's my sister. She is my business," Ron said, sputtering. "She
doesn't get it," he told Harry and Neville. "Hermione, wait up," he said,
grabbing his books and following her, leaving Harry and Neville alone.
"He's gone mad," Harry said, still not quite meeting Neville's eyes.
"Yeah," Neville said. "Come on." He stood up and gestured towards the stacks.
Neville's body was soft, with an underlying impression of solidity. He pressed
into Harry's wiry body and kissed him. Harry's senses were enveloped in the
earthy, green scent of Neville.
"Like this?" Neville said, breaking the kiss and moving his hand to cup Harry's
erection.
"Oh, God," Harry choked out. Neville pushed Harry back against the overstuffed
bookcase. "Neville--"
"It's good; you'll like it. I'll make sure," Neville mumbled into Harry's neck,
his breath damp and hot. He tugged Harry's trouser zip down and reached in.
"Yes..." Harry said when Neville grasped his cock. It didn't take long; as soon
as Harry looked down at his prick in Neville's hand, he came, right there in
the library stacks. "Um," he said, and collapsed to his knees.
Neville knelt beside Harry and kissed his temple, then adjusted his glasses
back into place.
"You-- can I?" Harry said, reaching for Neville's trouser button.
"Wait a minute," Neville said, stopping Harry's hand with his own.
"But," Harry let his hand drop, disappointed. "But I want to." He touched
Neville's fingers. They were sticky with a few droplets of his come. "Really
want to," he whispered, pulling Neville's hand up, with the intention of
licking his fingers. The idea made him feel bold and wild. "Please?"
"I--" Neville flushed red when his sleeve slid back, revealing his bracelet.
The bracelet charm he used to suppress his fear of Snape. Harry frowned. They
didn't have Potions today; Neville had no reason to wear it. He looked right
into Neville's eyes for the first time that day.
"Why--" Harry cleared his throat. "Are you wearing that because of this?" he
said, gesturing vaguely around them. Neville didn't have to say anything. The
slump of his shoulders gave his answer. Harry's throat burned. Was Neville...
afraid of him, even after the other night, in Harry's bed?
"I should go," Harry said flatly.
*
"I kissed Hermione," Ron told Harry when they changed for bed that night.
Neville's bed was closed and silent.
"You what?" Harry said, staring at Ron.
"Kissed her. Hermione. On the mouth. And she kissed back," Ron said. He blinked
like he didn't really believe it, either.
"Oh. That's um, good?" Harry said.
"Mm-hm." Ron had an odd, dreamy expression. He looked like a large, freckled,
redheaded Luna Lovegood. Harry tried not to laugh.
"Good then," Harry said. It didn't seem quite adequate, but he didn't know what
else to say. "Oh, by the way, Neville wanked me off in the library after you
two left and I think I might be a poof who fancies Neville" certainly wasn't
the right thing to say, but it was the only thing on Harry's mind.
*
Something was wrong. Neville's hand shook when he added his three drops of
Lallyflutter nectar to his cauldron. Shook like they used to. And if Harry
could sense it, Snape was bound to.
"Longbottom... tell us what would happen should one add four or five drops of
nectar in this stage, rather than three?" Snape said, his eyes glittering.
Harry bit the inside of his cheek. Please let him get it right, he thought,
repeating it like a mantra.
"Er.... I-- I-- I--" Neville went red and he glanced at Hermione.
Snape crossed his arms. "Yes? You-- you-- you--? I asked you, not Miss
Granger."
"Professor!" Pansy's shriek startled Harry and he almost dropped his bottle of
nectar. Everyone turned to look: one of the Ravenclaw's cauldrons was spewing
yellow and green bubbles.
"Everyone out," Snape barked. "Don't touch it!" The bubbling potion oozed down
the table to the floor, where it darkened and spread out, moving like it was
alive.
Neville kept his head down and left without a word.
*
That night, Neville's nightmare-induced yelping woke Harry again. "I'll talk to
him," Harry said before he realized Ron's bed was empty. He cast Lumos and
tiptoed over to Neville's bed. Dean was gone, too, and Seamus had his drapes
pulled tight.
"Neville, wake up," Harry whispered. Neville sat up quickly, his face creased
and his hair wild.
"I'm all right," he said. "Just a bad dream."
"It wasn't about any giant snakes, was it?" Harry said, joking.
"No," Neville said seriously. He slid over, making room for Harry to sit on the
edge of the bed. "There's this bird, in the greenhouse. I'm at one end, and
it's at the other. It's a black bird, a raven or a crow, and it's pecking at
something on the table. I think it's eating seeds, so I go down to chase it
out, but when I get there, it's not eating seeds at all." He shivered.
"What's it eating?" Harry asked, pulling his legs in and shutting Neville's
drapes.
"Different things... sometimes, it's an animal, like a rat or a toad, and it's
still alive, only too weak to get away. Once, it was baby birds. Most of the
time, I can't tell what it is."
"Do you have that dream a lot?" Harry asked, keeping his voice down.
"Yes," Neville said. "I've never woken anyone up because of it until this term,
though." He sounded embarrassed.
"Are you wearing the charm?" Harry whispered.
"No... not now. I tried to go without it today. I'd be out for sure if Lisa
Turpin's cauldron hadn't gone off." He looked at Harry. "I'm sorry for... the
other day."
"Don't wear it except for Potions," Harry said, wanting to kiss Neville but not
sure how to initiate it. "I'm not like Snape."
Neville laughed. "No, you're not."
They stared expectantly at each other for a few seconds, and then both leaned
in for a kiss at the same time. Somehow, it worked. They didn't bump noses or
foreheads or teeth. Their lips touched, and they kissed.
Harry took Neville's face in both hands and threaded his fingers back into
Neville's sleep-tangled hair. This time, he opened Neville's mouth with his and
darted his tongue in.
He wanted to touch Neville, and make him melt.
"Can I?" he said, his lips moving against Neville's cheek. He licked the spot
just under Neville's earlobe and felt a thrill of power at the moan it
produced. "Let me?" He let his hand drop to Neville's waist.
Neville nodded, and Harry kissed him again. This was it; he was going to have
another boy's prick in his hands, and he was going to like it. Definitely a
shirt-lifter. He pulled on the waistband of Neville's pajamas and put his hand
inside. Neville's cock was hard, warm, and a little bigger than Harry's.
"Move over a bit," Harry said, stretching out on the bed, getting the best
angle. He started slow, going the pace he usually liked at first.
"Little faster," Neville said hoarsely. He let his legs fall open and relaxed.
He touched Harry in random patterns on his chest, until he found one of Harry's
nipples and pinched it.
Harry squeaked in surprise, then gasped. Who knew touching your nipples could
feel like that, like an explosion that radiated through his entire body?
Wanting to make Neville feel as good, he mouthed Neville's chest through his
pajamas, hoping he hit the right spot.
"Oh," Neville said as he came in warm sticky threads. "Oh. Oh." Like he'd been
given the biggest box of Bertie Bott's available. The sweetness of that 'oh'
broke over Harry, and he felt foolish and giddy. He crushed his mouth to
Neville's, drinking in his sweetness.
After a moment, Neville pushed Harry onto his back and ground into him, rubbing
against his body, rubbing down, down-- "Neville?" he said softly, not sure he
really wanted an answer.
"Shh," Neville said. He pulled Harry's pajama bottoms down to Harry's ankles.
Harry swallowed. This was like sex. This was being naked in front of someone
because they wanted to see you naked. Neville ran his fingers over the line of
dark hairs below Harry's navel. He touched Harry lightly, exploring. Foreskin,
underside, testicles, behind... there, all brushed with Neville's gentle hand.
It felt good, really good, but Harry wanted more. He wished Neville would grab
him roughly like he had in the library. Neville had just said when he wanted it
faster, but the words stuck in Harry's throat.
Then Neville licked Harry, the rough flat of his tongue rubbing from balls to
tip.
"Neville," Harry said, writhing. Or he tried to say Neville's name, but it came
out more like, "Nevluh." All he knew after that was the sensation of coming in
Neville's mouth.
He pulled Neville up and kissed him, tasting his own bitterness, then burrowed
his face in Neville's chest. It felt like his body wasn't ever going to stop
shaking, but Neville was there, Neville, who was soft and solid at once.
Did this mean he and Neville were going out? Would Neville want singing
valentines and tea at Madam Puddifoot's? What did wizards even think of hom-
ga- boys who fancied boys? Harry ticked through the list of questions that kept
growing in his head. But when he opened his mouth, what he said was: "You've
done that before?"
"Er, yes." Neville whispered. "Or, um, had it done to me, rather."
Harry wrinkled his nose. Who had Neville been with? Why did it cause a strange
ache in Harry's chest?
"No one at school," Neville said. "No one you know."
"Then...?"
Neville sighed. "For my birthday. Um. Uncle Algie... he brought me to a- a-
someone who does that. For money. You know."
Harry's knowledge of prostitution was largely informed by the crime dramas
Dudley liked to watch on television. He got a sudden image of Neville with a
big-haired woman in an animal print miniskirt. But Neville's uncle Algie was a
wizard, and they did lots of things differently. "Tell me?" he prompted.
Neville turned over on his side, away from Harry. "Not much to say. She, uh,
worked out of this pub my uncle goes to. Had a room upstairs and all. Uncle
Algie said my-- my dad would've done the same, if he could... but I don't
know." He sighed. "I think maybe he thought I- I didn't want to do it with
girls," Neville whispered, so softly Harry strained to hear. "I suppose he was
right."
*
Harry didn't know how to act the next day. So he followed Neville's lead, which
consisted of not saying a bloody word about anything more interesting than what
a good growing season it was for Flapping Flytraps. It was more confusing and
frustrating than anything with Cho the year before, but entirely worth it when
Neville would pull him into a dark alcove and snog him senseless.
Secrecy it was, then. That was all right; Harry was used to keeping secrets. It
felt strange to have something so big (and not horrible) he couldn't tell Ron
and Hermione, but they were so busy with each other, Harry doubted they'd
notice if he ripped Neville's robes off and sucked his cock right in the middle
of dinner.
Well... they wouldn't notice right away, at least.
It was difficult in Potions, as their worktables were right next to each other.
Harry forced himself not to look at Neville. He worried Snape could tell.
Neville didn't know anything about Occlumency or Legilimency. He didn't know
that Snape really could read minds if he wanted. Even his charm would be hard-
pressed if Neville knew everything Snape was capable of.
If Snape knew, he'd never let up. He'd make snide remarks ever chance he got,
and he'd--oh, God--he'd tell Malfoy.
So Harry kept his eyes down and his mouth shut in Potions.
Neville stopped wearing the bracelet charm, except in Potions. He was never as
aggressive as he'd been at the start, but Harry didn't mind.
*
It was a Hogsmeade weekend that started Harry thinking about Neville's fears.
Hermione and Ron argued about whether to go to the bookshop or Honeydukes, and
Neville said he wanted to go to the flower shop. No one said anything about
Madam Puddifoot's.
In the flower shop, Neville looked at each potted flower (skipping over the cut
flowers entirely, Harry noted happily). "They use Greengrass's Grow-Up," he
sniffed. "Professor Sprout says it gives nice results in the short term, but it
makes the plant more susceptible to disease in the long run. Makes for weaker
potions ingredients, too. Oh, look! A Scopplethwaite's Surprise!" Neville ran
over to a pot in the corner.
Inside, there was what looked like a small gray stone. "Watch," Neville said.
He conjured a long feather and stepped back. He stretched so the tip of the
feather brushed the stone, which pulsed threateningly. Harry, remembering the
Mimbulus Mimbletonia, shrank away. Suddenly, a burst of color and light flew up
from the pot. A three-foot tall plant, covered in sweet-smelling blooms, now
grew out of the tiny stone.
"Wow," Harry said. Neville's round face glowed with happiness. He looked like a
Seeker who'd just caught the Snitch. Harry wanted to kiss him.
Then Neville's expression dropped, just like that. The happy glow went out. He
looked at something behind Harry.
A tall man dressed in black robes was purchasing a bouquet of flowers.
"Neville, what's wrong?" Harry said. Neville shook, and looked at the floor.
"N- nothing," Neville said. "I just thought it was Snape, for a minute." Harry
looked again. Aside from the black robes, there was nothing Snape-like about
the man. For one thing, his face was full and kind. His white hair was pulled
back into a long tail. And, to top it off, he wore a high--and bright yellow--
wizard's hat.
"It's not," Harry said, but Neville was still shaking. "It's not."
*
Neville's body was endlessly fascinating. Harry liked to touch the small bump
on his nose, from when it broke. He liked the softness of Neville's stomach,
and he rested his head on it like a pillow. He liked Neville's cock, the rich
scent and bitter-salt taste of it. He liked the three moles, one on each of
Neville's hips, one just above his navel, and he traced a lazy triangular path
between them with his tongue. He liked Neville's arse, and the noises Neville
made when Harry touched him there.
"Do you want to--" Harry said, slipping the tip of his finger in.
"Yes," Neville said. "Not here, though."
"Thank you!" Seamus yelled from his bed. Padma had broken off with him, and
he'd been staying in the dormitory more often. He was the only one who knew,
though it wasn't a 'congrats, mate,' kind of knowing. More like a 'spare me the
details' kind of knowing.
Twenty minutes later, they were huddled under Harry's cloak, in front of the
Room of Requirement. "I wonder how many times the room's been used for this,"
Harry whispered.
Neville laughed. "I wonder what it's going to give us."
A bed was the answer. A large bed, but just a bed nonetheless, and a small box
filled with different vials, and a bookcase off in the corner.
"What are those for?" Harry said, opening one of the vials. "Oh. Aren't there
spells for that?" He hadn't even thought of bringing something. Having to buy
or make a bottle of... stuff made it all seem more real.
"Sure, but I wouldn't want to use one," Neville said. "What if you make a
mistake?" His face paled. "What if you said a banishment charm on accident?"
Harry shivered. "Right. No spells."
Neville sat on the bed. "Do you want, er, or should I?"
"Can I?" Harry said, his face flushing deep red. Neville nodded. "How should
we..." Harry sat next to Neville. "Lets just do some things we already know, to
start." He unbuttoned his pajamas and took them off, and Neville did the same.
They settled down facing each other on the bed and kissed and touched for a
long time.
Harry's fingers crept from Neville's balls to his arse. Neville's hand dug into
Harry's shoulders. "Harry, you can use the stuff," he said.
Now Harry faced another predicament. "How should I, um...." Maybe he could lift
Neville's legs up high enough, but that couldn't be all that comfortable.
"Like this?" Neville said, turning over and tucking his knees under.
"God, Neville," Harry said roughly. "You look--" Fantastic. Brilliant.
Terrific. Incredible. So hot, just waiting for Harry to-- "--really good."
Neville chuckled. "Go on," he said, but Harry saw a blush spread all the way
down his back.
Harry opened one of the vials and poured out some of the slippery contents.
Neville hissed when Harry touched his arse. Harry froze.
"Just cold," Neville mumbled. "Don't stop."
The slick substance made it easy for Harry to slide his index finger in, past
the tight muscle, into the warmth. Inside Neville. His cock swelled at the
thought. He moved his finger around, exploring.
"Mm, there," Neville said, his voice thick. "S'nice."
"What does it feel like?" Harry whispered, though there was no need for
silence.
"Like every one of my muscles has melted," Neville said.
Harry bent closer and tried adding a second finger. Neville squirmed
contentedly.
On impulse, Harry leaned in and licked the wrinkled skin where his fingers
entered Neville. The organic scent of the lubricant and the bitter underlying
flavor weren't very nice, but Neville moaned loudly.
"Harry, was that your tongue?"
"Yes. Was it all right?"
"God, yes."
So Harry did it again. He didn't mind the flavor if it made Neville whimper
like that, every sound going directly to Harry's prick.
"Neville, I'm going to." Harry plunged his fingers in once more, and shifted
into position.
"Yes, now."
Harry paused. He'd have to go it slow, to avoid hurting Neville. He pushed in a
little.
"Oh, wait, stop," Neville said, tensing up. "Slower. Um, let me breathe for a
minute."
"We don't have to," Harry said, panting from the effort of holding still.
"I want to," Neville said. "I think... maybe if I push out when you push in."
He demonstrated, and Harry slipped in a bit further. "Mm, that's better."
"All right?" Harry said. He wanted to dig his hands into Neville's hips and
thrust.
"Yeah. Try it again."
One more push, and Harry was in. All the way in, where it was tight and hot and
he was surrounded by Neville. He pulled out a bit and thrust in, trying to find
the angle Neville had liked when he'd explored with his fingers. He wasn't
going to last long.
"Let go, Harry," Neville said. "Just go hard, I want you to."
Harry groaned and gave in. Four more hard thrusts, and he came, pulsing hot.
"Neville, Neville," he said, slipping out and turning Neville over to swallow
his cock. He wanted to surround Neville and suck him in as deeply as he'd just
felt.
Neville hissed and came, bitter fluid that tasted better than the best sweets
to Harry, because it meant he had made Neville feel good.
*
"D'you think the Room would let us stay here forever? We could have Dobby bring
us food," Harry said, fingering Neville's sweaty hair.
"What if someone else needs it?"
"They can get their own room," Harry said yawning. "Look, there's a window."
There was, indeed. It showed an eastern view, with the gray-yellow light of
dawn just starting to show.
A pair of crows flew past the window and circled back, flapping and landing on
the sill in a flurry of caws and feathers. Neville stiffened beside Harry.
"It's only crows," Harry said.
"I know. I just don't like them," Neville said. A surge of protectiveness ran
through Harry.
"I'll get rid of them," he said. He got up and walked naked over to the window.
"Go away!" he said, waving his hands at the crows. He hit the small bookcase
and knocked off several books. The crows cawed and flew away.
"Thanks. I know it's silly, but I can't help it," Neville said. Harry stared at
the jumble of books on the floor. "What is it?"
"I think the Room thinks we have something to talk about," Harry said,
gathering up the books and dumping them on the bed.
Blame it on the Parents? A New Study by Prunella Sprigg.
Dead or Just Gone: Coping With Absent Parent Syndrome by Angela Horowitz.
Modern Orphans by Muriel Spun.
There were at least a dozen more.
"What are these?" Neville asked.
"Muggle books," Harry said. "My aunt has a lot of them, only they're more about
how to raise your child to be a genius. Fat lot that did for Dudley."
"This one's not Muggle," Neville said, pulling out a thin pamphlet. Eaten By
Death: The Children of The Dark Lord's Victims (with a special section on
helpful cheering charms!) by Artemisia Handle.
"What are we supposed to do?" Harry said, annoyed. "It's nothing we don't know
already. My parents were k- killed, and yours were, um, almost killed..." he
trailed off.
"They should have died. They'd be better off," Neville said. He looked
horrified at his own words.
"Neville. Don't say that. I'd rather-- I'd rather have gum wrappers than
nothing at all." Harry touched Neville's knee tentatively. This was new
territory, and he felt unsure.
"You don't know," Neville said, brushing his hand away. "You don't know what
it's like, so how can you say what you'd want?"
"Right," Harry said. He frowned. Maybe he should just go.
"I remember my parents dying," he said instead. "I didn't, for a long time, but
then those Dementors... they made me remember it."
Neville looked at him through guarded eyes. "I don't remember anything," he
said quickly.
"You don't?"
"No. No." Neville said, his eyes screwed shut. "No- not really." His shoulder
muscles twitched. "Just... blackness. And flashes of light. But mostly black
things. Blackness, I mean."
Harry felt ill. Had Neville-- "Were you there, when it happened?" --been there,
when his parents were tortured into insanity?
"No!" Neville's body slumped, and he said in an empty tone, "I don't know."
Harry crawled under the covers and rested his head against Neville, just
listening to him breathe for a long while.
"Blackness like... black robes and birds and things?" he said. Neville's
breathing jumped.
"I-- I don't know..." Neville said, but this time he sounded curious, and a
little bit hopeful.
*
The end of term came, and both Neville and Harry actually completed their
potions in a 'serviceable' manner. Neville's Gran was allowing him to stay at
Hogwarts for most of the Christmas holiday.
"Look, I didn't slip it on once," Neville said, holding up his bare wrist. He'd
been trying to slowly wean himself off the fear-blocking charm, but he hadn't
been able to make it though an entire class without it before.
"Brilliant," Harry said.
"I wouldn't ditch something like that," Ron said, pulling a clip out of
Hermione's hair. "Be handy for, you know, fighting evil doers."
"I can be brave, when I have to. When it's dangerous not to," Neville said. "I
need to try it for everyday things." He laughed. "I mean, it's not as big as
the whole savior of the Wizarding World thing and whatnot," he said, shoving
Harry shoulder playfully.
"Right," Harry said, shoving back. "Listen, about all that...."
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