This work is a parody of J.K Rowling's Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, and it is not endorsed by either J.K. Rowling or her publishers. As a parody, this work is protected under the Fair Use Doctrine.
The characterizations in this work deviate significantly from the original, and this does not imply these characterizations exist in the original work. The author received no financial compensation or endorsements for the production of this work.
All characters in this story are fictional. This story depicts sexual acts between consenting minor males. This story is meant for entertainment purposes only and in no way reflects reality. Please be aware of local laws or ordinances that may prohibit the reading of such material.
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Harry avoided going down to the great hall or even the common room for diner. Neville brought him food, and a lot of it. Ron, Hermione (who sneaked in past the magical barrier), Dean, and Séamus made an appearance after dinner and demanded stories from Harry as they spread out to the beds. He told them about what he learned concerning Merscots, and he thanked Hermione for forcing him to go to the library, and how it evolved into his plan. Hermione appeared both impressed and stunned he followed her advice. Harry explained the song, repeating the title several times as his friend laughed hysterically at it, and how Professor Flitwick assisted him. Then came the parts about hiding the sound balloons, Neville's gift of the fishface lace, and then the challenge. The group of people appeared concerned when the told them about the water snake and how he roasted his own leg. The bits concerning the Merscots and freeing the captives seemed anti-climatic.
Through the entirety of the telling, Harry sat holding Neville's hand. No one asked about it. No one needed to ask. The fact the shy Gryffindor got taken as Harry's heart's desire spoke for them. Neville frequently blushed during the parts about the rescue. It lead to a question Harry wanted answered.
"Neville, exactly what did that fishface lace do to me?" He asked.
"That, um, just sorted of turned your face and neck into the face and gills of fish. That's why you could breath under water," Neville told him.
"Clever," Hermione muttered.
"Troot fash," Harry mumbled and chuckled to himself.
"What?" Ron quipped.
"The Merscots kept calling me `troot fash'... trout face. I must've looked like a trout to them."
"Better go easy on telling people that bit, mate. Could end up your nickname," Séamus warned with a smirk.
"Oh, and you're not going to tell a soul the Merscots called me troot fash, eh?"
His friends snickered in the meanest of ways possible, and Harry smiled at them all.
While his friends thought his plan bordered on genius, the tournament committee thought less so the next day. Harry got called before them for a debriefing, as did all the champions. He gave a short summary of his ideas and the execution of each. He got severely admonished for making preparations before the tournament regarding hiding the sound balloons, using an unauthorized substance to transform himself, employing the sound balloons on the Merscots, and then assisting the other champions that earned him last place. They claimed two-thirds of his actions as cheating.
"Right, right," he said feeling more angry than ashamed. "So, ah, where in the rules does it say I can't do any of that? I've read them at least a hundred times, and it doesn't ban anything I did. Don't forget in the fourteen-seventy-two tournament Malthezer used an entire army he hid on the south side of Spurmstung Keep to win the hide-and-fetch challenge. The rules never got revised even after that!"
"Stop reciting the rules and history to us! We bloody well know all of that!" Professor Dumbledore shouted at him in much the same manner as the Merscots.
"Pardon me, professor, but why didn't you expand the rules to say what we couldn't do? It's like you're making it up as we go along and after we beat the challenges?" Harry inquired in what he hoped sound both fawning and innocent.
"Not the point now, is it?"
The rest of the committee and the reporter, Miss Skeeter, stared at the headmaster of the school.
"I think it would very much be the point, Dumbledore," Barty Crouch said in a guarded fashion.
"'Arry, please be excused from us while we talk zis matter over," Mistress Maximus instructed him.
He departed from the room and sat on bench in the hall next to the door. He sat there for an hour, and then two. Following another half an hour of aggravated waiting and a short while before the evening meal, Igor Krackhead strolled by. Harry looked at him in surprise.
"Did not a person tell you we go almost two hours ago?" The man gruffly inquired.
Harry stood and stomped away while swearing under his breath the entire time. He specifically needed to use the restroom.
At dinner that night they announced the official results of the challenge. Ass Cleft barely edged Diktor for a first place finish, and Foul came in ten minutes before Harry. Thus, Harry came in last, but they awarded him extra points for freeing all the prison boxes. Thus, a three-way tie for first place got created. Foul could be heard swearing in the recesses of the great hall. She did not swear alone. Professor Dumbledore got tied to his chair during the announcements, and Professor McGonagall used a volume spell to reduce his invective-laced diatribes to a mere whisper. The headmaster appeared positively enraged everyone survived.
The challenge exacted a physical toll on Harry. It took him days to recover his normal vim and vigor. Neville fretted over the Gryffindor champion the entire time. Harry mollified Neville by spending each night in his bed, although the two young males did nothing more than sleep. Despite what got revealed to them during the challenge, Harry wanted to continue much as they did beforehand. Thus, he did not place any expectations on Neville nor did he pressure him in any specific way. As unlikely as it seemed to Harry, it made him happy.
"All right, mate, out with it: what's he like?" Ron asked five days after the tournament, and especially because they lounged nearly alone in the common room on a Sunday morning.
"He's sweet, really," Harry said in a soft voice. "He's attentive."
"That's not what I mean, Harry, and you know it!"
"Then just ask the real question!"
"What's he like in bed? The sex?" Ron grunted out the questions.
Harry snickered and shook his head. Ron frowned. Harry knew his best friend wanted to know all the details, even though Ron would not divulge much about what went on between him and Diktor Kum. It fit Ron's personality in Harry's estimation.
"We haven't done anything yet," Harry truthfully replied.
"You're lying, Harry Potter, and you're a terrible liar," Ron snorted. "Now out with it. You owe me the truth."
"The truth, Ronald Billius Weasley, is that Neville thinks I need to rest after the challenge and not tire myself. It was a lot of work down under the water."
Ron gaped at him.
"I'm not lying: we haven't done a thing with each other yet... unless you want to count kissing. We do that a fair bit when we get the chance."
His best friend shook his head and said: "I can't believe this. My best mate who's bum starts to twitch after two days without a poke is telling me he's gone a week... maybe more without a single night of action. I don't believe it, Harry. I just don't. I know you..."
"And you're forgetting no one else in the school would touch me after the first challenge," Harry interjected. "I went weeks just tossing off `til that one evening with Ass Cleft and Diktor after I told `em about the Merscots. Then nothing after that. I'm sort of used to it by now."
"Great Merlin, the school wrecked you. Neville should be crawling `round on his hands and knees after a night with you, and all I hear is he's playing nanny to you. That's not right, mate. Not right at all."
Harry grinned at Ron.
"You've gone mental is what you've done."
"Oh, give it a rest, Ron. It's only a matter of time. Every time we lay down to get some sleep together we're both as hard as broomstick handle. Neville doesn't want to rush me, and I'm not going to do that to him. When we get going, I'm sure you'll probably be the first to know," Harry stated his understanding of the situation.
"Not right. Just not right," the ginger-haired teenager muttered again.
"I've got reading to get done," Harry said and returned to the history text book.
Half an hour later Ron stood up. Harry glanced over and started to laugh. The bulge in the front of Ron's pants looked comical.
"Been sitting here this whole time thinking of what you're missing, and look what's it gone and done to me. I won't be able to get any studying done like this. I'm heading down to the dock," Ron exclaimed and started trotting toward the stairs.
"Give Diktor a kiss for me!" Harry yelled through a laugh.
Ron apparently delivered some vile retort by the expression he saw on the first year girl's face who sat writing at the table next to the stairwell. She blinked several times as though it might clean out her ears or possibly erase the memory. Harry made a mental bet with himself she would repeat it by the end of term. He returned to his reading and notes.
"My eyes are burned out of my head," he complained an hour later.
The clock on the mantle told him a half an hour still lay between him and lunch. Harry packed up his books, set his bookbag under a table, and headed for the exit. He grabbed his jacket from one of the pegs. A pinch on the Fat's Lady's bum elicited both a delighted squeal and an open door. Harry strolled quickly through the door and down the tower stairs. He made for the side courtyard on the lower levels and let nothing distract him as he aimed for the greenhouses where he knew Neville did some preparations for Madam Sprout.
"Why do you always look so happy playing in mud?" He inquired when he entered the greenhouse where his boyfriend worked.
"Because mud doesn't argue and it doesn't take much to understand," Neville replied in the same cheeky manner. "Must be near lunch."
"Yeah, plus I got bored reading that chapter for Binns on the early nineteenth century troll migration."
"Hmm, the final fallout from the giant wars."
"You know everything," Harry said as he walked up to the kneeling teenager.
"Funny it wasn't me who figured out how to neutralize the Merscots," Neville deftly parried and stood up.
"Kiss me, quick!"
Neville leaned over and soundly kissed Harry.
"Okay, I'm better now," Harry heaved and felt his entire body tingle.
"Me, too," the taller of the two responded as his cheeks turned pink.
Neville began to unbutton his coveralls. Harry stepped up and lent a hand. Their fingers got in each other's way and the two boys began to laugh at the stupidity of it. Neville shrugged out of the outfit and pulled his feet free.
"You know you smell like these greenhouses," Harry remarked.
"And that's bad?"
"No. It's earthy. Natural. I like it."
"Anyone tell you you're a little off, Harry?" Neville quipped and grinned.
"Yeah, you did this morning before you came here," he answered. "Actually, you tell me that quite a lot."
Harry got a nifty treat after Neville returned from putting away his coveralls and gloves. He wrapped his longer arms around Harry and held him close. Harry inhaled the young man's scent, and he smelled earth. He also got a whiff of sweat, and that made his head buzz a little bit. Harry loved the male scent that came with honest work. His body began to react.
"What's getting you so worked up?" Neville inquired through a chuckle.
"You. You just smell so... it's, and I know this is going to sound cheesy, but you smell really... manly right now. It's the way a guy should smell," Harry stated exactly what excited.
"You must be dangerous after a fappitch match."
Harry snorted out a laugh, and considered a response. However, he felt something pressing against his hip that arrived just seconds before. He wiggled his torso.
"And what's that I feel?" Harry sly asked.
"Just what happens to me when I get near a certain tournament champion."
Given the prescient conversation with Ron earlier that morning, Harry decided to be bold. He left his left arm slide down Neville's back, down his hips, and then slid it between them. Harry kept going and then squeezed the bulge in Neville's groin. Neville started chuckling.
"You really are randy, aren't you?"
"Well... yes. Between you and the smell of the roses and peppermint, I, ah... okay, it's you," Neville stammered through his statements.
Harry began sliding his hands over the length of Neville's erection, seventeen centimeters if he knew how to judge a hard-on, and squeezed again. Neville sharply inhaled. Harry grinned.
"I, um, maybe could give you a real hand with that if it's going to be a problem at lunch?" He asked and teased.
"I... ah, er... could, um, be," Neville stammered.
Harry rubbed the clothing encased erection a little harder. Neville reacted by bending his head down and firmly kissing Harry. Their lips parted and tongues began to dance. Harry found Neville to be a fast learner and seemed incredibly self-possessed when it came to snogging. He wondered how how much he could test his boyfriend. As they continued to kiss, Harry stealthily lowered the zipper on Neville's pants. In return, the generally shy teenager -- at least shy around other's except Harry -- slipped his hands under Harry's jacket and shirt. His slightly chilly hands began to knead his back.
"Mmmm," Harry hummed into Neville's mouth, and then he edged his hand into the opening of the pants.
It suddenly dawned on him he never touched Neville's penis before, either erect or soft, and the feel of the undiscovered country in the palm of his hand made him quiver. Neville did not protest. In fact, he took a half step back while Harry played around in his pants. The thin fabric of the underpants did little to obscure the feel of the hard, hot organ. Harry all but wrapped his hand around it and squeeze again.
"Oh, Weiss!" Neville muttered into his mouth.
The sudden burst of activity following the quiet exclamation almost stunned Harry. Neville pulled his hands free and then pushed Harry's jacket off. Harry let it fall. The long, strong fingers of quiet young man then fumbled with the snap and zipper on Harry's pants. Before his knew it, Neville began to shove the pants down, and Harry found himself completely in favor of the freedom. One of Neville's hands latched onto his hard cock, and the contact made him shiver. Harry did not waste time, and repeated Neville's actions. Soon their pants slid down to their knees as they gasped each others erections.
"This feels so good," Neville said in a low voice as he tugged on the hard willy in his hand.
"Neville..." Harry began but the ready and slightly rough ministrations of his boyfriend robbed him of words.
"I want more," said the teenager bringing pleasure to Harry.
It staggered Harry with delight when Neville slowly sank to his knees. He never let go of the hard piece of meat. Once on his knees, Neville licked Harry's stiff member from base to head. Harry's body vibrated. With a complete lack of artistry or skill, Neville plunged his head down and sucked Harry into a world of pleasure. It did not matter to Harry one whit that Neville sometimes scraped his skin with teeth, the boy gave it his absolutely best effort and it pleased Harry to no end. The novice sucked and slurped his way up and down the shaft. He nibbled on the head. A solid attempt to use his tongue ensued. In short, Harry would never again think of Neville as a breeder as no heterosexual could sup on a dick like that. Several minutes passed while the young man seemed to get lost in bringing enjoyment to Harry, and Harry started to wonder who pleasured whom. The interesting aspect arrived in the fact Harry felt his climax start to tingle in his scrotum.
"My turn," he said after forcing Neville's head backward, and then crouching down on the hard, stone floor.
Neville appeared slightly irritated as he stood. Thus, Harry decided one thing would change his mind. For months he stared at Neville's penis and thought it one of the most beautiful he ever saw. He moved with deliberate slowness as his head descended. His lips touched the very top of the head. As he went down, Harry slid the foreskin back so the head became exposed.
"Oh, god," Neville warbled a word Harry never heard him utter as hands clamped onto the side of his head. The teenager's hips bucked a little.
Harry got a startling revelation as he realized the time waiting for a truly intimate moment with his boyfriend heightened the experience. As Neville's erection slid in an out of Harry's mouth, he made note of every detail: the smooth texture of the skin, the veins hid beneath the layer of foreskin, the slope of the head, the edge of the glans, the thicker middle of the shaft, and even the way the pubic hair tickled nose and chin. Harry loved the way Neville's hips shook each time he swallowed the entire length of the organ. With his left hand he began to caress the scrotum, one sparsely covered in short hairs. The ovoids contained within the sack felt about four centimeters long and rather plump. Harry rolled one around in his fingers, and Neville let out a grunting sound. After two minutes of sucking and toying with the nuggets, he saw how the scrotum began to shrink and the testes retracted to the base.
"Getting close, huh?" Harry asked after he forced himself to back off, and it proved a willful struggle.
"Core..." Neville panted the expression he picked up from Ron. "Close... yeah, close."
Harry saw the way in which the rock-hard pecker in front of his face bobbed in time to Neville's heartbeat. He thought the standing teenager still might ejaculate. Fortunately, as the seconds moved on, the motion slowed.
"Harry?" Neville asked with the name.
Harry seized Neville's hand and pulled him down into a sitting position on the cool, dirty floor. It seemed appropriate given the young man's love of all things that grew in the soil. Moreover, Harry thought the entire setting suited their first real sexual encounter with one another. As soon as Neville situated himself, Harry swooped in for a kiss. Their mouths met and they renewed the waltz of the tongues. Neville truly enjoyed a good, deep kiss, and that thrilled Harry to no end. A meaningful, solid kiss spoke to Harry better than many other forms of affection. For several minutes they luxuriated in the taste of one another. When they slowly broke apart, he saw the flush in the longer face, and the enormous smile.
"Harry, I was think maybe we should go upstairs," Neville quietly said.
"Why?" Harry asked and glanced around. "Who's going to interrupt us in here on a Sunday?"
"No one... I think."
"And who'd interrupt us up in the room? Holy toads, Neville, they'd join in!"
Neville appeared shocked.
"Unless you want it to turn into scrum," he responded to the look and considered the possibilities. It could prove interesting to see how Neville would react to getting snogged by four boys at once.
"Um... no, not really... not this time," his boyfriend demurely stated. "But here?"
"I think it's special in here, Neville," Harry told him. "Greenhouses will always remind me of you. It just feels so... alive in here. It's where things grow."
"Wait. So you weren't joking: this place really did get you going?"
"You being in here, a place that sort of defines you, is what got me going, Neville. You look so sexy in those coveralls!"
Neville threw his head back and started laughing.
"I'm serious, you know?" Harry responded in a slightly annoyed tone.
Neville's left hand rose and caressed his face while he said: "I'm not laughing at you, Harry. I just never thought this place, of all places... and coveralls to boot would make me appealing to anyone. You do realize I spent a lot of time hiding away form people in here?"
"And it's time for you to stop doing that, but I remember so well when you asked me to go to the dance."
"That was in greenhouse two. This is number three."
Harry grinned and rolled his eyes.
"Sorry," Neville quipped and his cheeks grew spots of red.
"You are so handsome when you blush," Harry said and slipped a hand around Neville's neck. "I'd been dreaming about you all year. What to hear something, I guess, amazing?"
Neville nodded.
"When I saw you in that the trap under the water, it didn't surprise me. It seemed... natural. Right. It told me what I already knew: I was falling in love with you. At the start of the year I never would've guessed you'd be my heart's desire, but here you are, and I'm so happy it turned out to be you, Neville."
His statements got rewarded by a new kiss, and this time he felt even more passion in Neville's lips. Harry slipped his other arm around the teenager who captured his heart and drew him in close. His butt ground against the floor, but he did not care. Everything about the moment seemed to go according to a plan he never dreamed possible. Harry's body thrummed as his emotions got more involved. Part of him feared falling in love because he saw too often what happened to other students when they could not sustain the relationship. He hoped he could learn from them. Moreover, Harry never wanted to hurt Neville who deserved real love more than any boy he knew. He kissed him with greater urgency.
"Harry," Neville breathed his name when the separated so they could properly breathe.
"Neville," Harry said the name in the same manner.
Neville started to lower himself, but Harry made him wait while he re-positioned his body. In the back of his mind he knew they would not turn back from the point of no return on this round. Once in the correct spot, Harry sank down. Neville appeared to understand what got accomplished, and he continued to lower his upper torso and head. Each scooted along the ground to get in better position. When they reached the optimal configuration, they commenced.
Harry wanted to sing when he felt Neville suck in his pecker, but his mouth got filled with a hard willy. They achieved one of Harry's favorite positions for one of his favorite acts. Pleasing a boy who pleased him at the same time bordered on mystical to Harry. He knew all about the symbolism involved, yet the actual practice took on greater meaning when it came from an emotional place. He felt his fingers tingle as the magics in his body reacted to everything in going on in his heart and mind. Moment by moment he felt transported into a special world where only he and Neville existed. He wanted to stay there as long as possible.
The moment did take over. Harry wrapped his right arm around Neville's thigh and pulled himself in tight against Neville's crotch. The cock in his mouth got buried to the root. He heard his boyfriend make a muffled moaning sound. Then Neville tried to do the same, but only partially succeeded. Harry knew he possessed an average size erection, something over which he remained fiercely proud, but knew Neville would need a lot more experience before could reach that achievement. However, he loved the attempt. It spurred him to use all his skills to please Neville.
Time after time Harry could think of nothing more than bringing Neville the most pleasure he could. He thought nothing of his own wants as he worked on the stiff pole of flesh enveloped by his mouth. Harry licked and sucked and tickled with his lips and tongue over every square millimeter. A few times he supped on the tightened scrotum of his boyfriend, an act that made Neville's entire body squirm. At some point Harry grabbed onto Neville's buttock and pulled. He felt the firm mounds, and their firmness spoke volumes to Harry, clench a bit in reaction. A smile curled his lips. He let his fingers dance around crevice. It took only a moment to find the puckered hole.
It came quite natural to Harry to want to probe an anus with his fingers, so he did. In five seconds Neville's entire body became rigid when he started to wiggle his digit against the opening. Five more seconds later Harry's mouth got flooded with the best juice he could imagine. Neville exploded into orgasm, and he came close to biting Harry's erection. Neville filled his mouth, and Harry greedily gulped it down. The smells of the body pressed against his face mixed with those of the greenhouse and alchemy took place in Harry's brain. An image of the two of them locked together in a field of grass and heather as they reached a new plateau of bliss almost seemed a reality. Harry sucked as much of Neville's pulsing organ as deeply into his maw as he could.
"Oh, Harry... Harry," Neville heaved out his name a minute later. "Harry... it's making me crazy..."
With almost a sense of regret Harry released Neville's spent tool from his clutches. As soon as it worked free of his mouth, Neville set upon on Harry's rigid pecker. It disappeared into the shy young man's face. Harry leaned back a little and closed his eyes. He tried to picture exactly what they looked like as they lay upon the floor reveling in one another. He could see the side of Neville's head, all wavy-haired with a delicately shape ears, leading down to a jaw with muscles flexing as he performed. Neville again made up for lack of skill with total enthusiasm. He learned a few tricks from Harry, and employed them. The sensation in Harry's groin grew increasingly intense, yet he focused on something entirely different. He could not believe his luck that Neville wanted him regardless of the trouble accompanying Harry's life. He did not doubt for a moment Neville truly held strong feelings for him. Thus, when Neville got around to inserting a finger into Harry's ass, it set him off like a rocket.
The intensity of Harry's orgasm became staggering. It caused a flash of brilliant light to ignite behind his eyelids. His head dropped back and a feral growl ripped out of his mouth as his hips bolted and lurched. He could not stop them from rising upward as what felt like gallons of semen erupted out of his cock. It felt as though someone reached up inside of him any squeezed all of his internal organs at the same time. A vague awareness he grunted and possibly howled reached Harry's ears. Through it all, his mind latched onto the fact Neville caused the reaction him. His heart turned to mush and his feelings for Neville expanded. Following what seemed like an hour of exquisite torture, his climax receded. His body slumped. Harry heard a chuckle.
"Brilliant," Neville quietly said. "That was brilliant."
"You... were... brilliant," Harry repeated.
"And that tasted better than I ever dreamed."
Harry lifted his sweating face and grinned at Neville who smiled like a Cheshire cat. Light played on the wetness on his lips, and it appeared a Renaissance painting in Harry's mind. The two young now lovers stared at one another. Harry felt sheer amazement sweep through him at the nature of Neville's gaze. He felt slightly unworthy.
"Harry?" Neville asked with his name.
"Never had anyone look at me like you do. Not sure I deserve it," he honestly replied.
"I'm feeling rather the same."
Harry knew his face turned pink as he felt the heat rise up his neck.
"What're you blushing about?" Neville inquired and his smirk grew wide again.
"I wasn't even looking for a boyfriend, Neville, and then you... I keep asking myself why me when you could've had anyone. Seriously, anyone, Neville."
Neville paused for a few moments and his face became more solemn.
"Harry," he said in a low voice. "Do you treat me any different that you do you the rest of the boys."
"A little. I mean, I more worried about what you think and feel than the others. Why?"
"I keep telling you this, and you really need to believe me, but no one else does that with me. Ron and Dean and Séamus'll talk to me, but it's only social. I can't quite say when I first noticed, but you started to care about me as a person, Harry. Maybe not like you do now, but it changed and I could feel it. So you're wrong, in case you don't know it."
"Wrong about what?"
"Me getting anyone I wanted. Maybe it works that way for you, but not for me. A person has to get noticed by another person first, see them... something in them, and you're the only one who's done that with me. Think you ask yourself why? I think that a million times a day about you," Neville said, and it sounded like raw emotions bubbled under the surface of his words.
"Neville, come on!" Harry responded in mild disbelief at what he heard and saw. "You're a brilliant, handsome, caring bloke who'd do anyone proud to be with. It's as obvious as the glasses on my nose!"
A smile, but a sad one, tripped across Neville's mouth. When two tears raced down Neville's cheeks, Harry got concerned. He scuttled over to his boyfriend, a feat given his pants stayed wrapped around his ankles, and threw his arms around Neville.
"What'd I say? I'm sorry, Neville. I'm truly sorry!" He rambled as fast as he could.
"Don't be. You only said the things I wanted to hear from anyone since I came here. You may thinks it's obvious, but I don't even see that in myself... and I can't figure out for the life of me why you can," the somewhat distraught young man intoned.
For the first time in his young life, Harry understood something. He felt as though he matured a small amount in that second. He also realized Neville's words reflected what many people likely thought of themselves, including him. Society taught them to focus on the negatives about their lives. Society taught them to trust the judgments of others before their own. Society would admonish anyone who took even the slightest bit of pride in their real achievements. It made him think of Ass Cleft and Diktor, both accomplished in their own right and people he greatly admired. He studied the tear-streaked face of the boy he honestly grew to love over the preceding months because Neville simply acted as himself and accepted Harry for himself.
"We do this ourselves, you know?" He slowly began. "Somehow we learn to look at only what we think is shit about ourselves and what we what envy in other people... what we wish we could be. You think I'm brave when I never believed that. I think you're kind and caring and smart, and you can't see that I'm right. Neville, I don't believe or say those things `cause I'm trying to trick you: it's what I honestly believe and think. It's... my reality of you."
Neville lowered his head to Harry's shoulder and began to cry. Harry held him tight. He never expected their first sexual foray would lead to an unveiling of emotions and thoughts that extended far beyond what they held for each other. It seemed perverse for the moment, but Harry felt a swell of empathy for Lord Holdequart, a person's who twisted body led to a twisted life filled with hate and revenge. Harry wondered what path Tom Widdle's life would follow if someone early on showed him genuine concern and love without regard to his perceived deformity. It caused Harry to embrace his boyfriend even tighter. It made him fear what society could almost unwittingly do to a person and the destruction it wrought.
"I will never lie to you about anything I feel or think about you, Neville," he said to the quaking form. "I owe you the truth, even when it might hurt you. You deserve so much better than what you got. I might only be a poor substitute, but I will do my damnedest by you. I swear that much."
Neville struggled against Harry's embrace, and he loosened it. Neville lifted his face, eyes red and puffy, and nose a little snotty. A hard gleam entered his eyes.
"Don't make promises you can't keep, Harry Potter," Neville warned him in a voice grown coarse. "You said we shouldn't tell each other what we think the other person wants to hear. Is that what you're doing right now?"
Harry gaped at Neville. Neville, despite his current condition, held his gaze. He did not blink or waver. Never in his life did Harry feel as tested as he did in that moment.
"Maybe I'm trying to be a better person, Neville. I don't understand relationships like we've got. I think I know how it got started, maybe not why, and I don't know where it goes from here," he began a somewhat muddle response. "All I can see right now is you're feeling pain, and I want to help make it go away. I know that pain, Neville. I've felt it. I felt it `til I came here. I think... think I'm asking you to trust me. I won't be a perfect boyfriend, Merlin knows I won't, but I at least want to try to be a good one. Does that make sense?"
Neville nodded.
"And the same goes for you. I'm really not expecting more from you than you can give me. You have to believe me about that. And you have to believe me that I fell for all of you; not just the brilliant and caring and handsome parts."
Harry felt his face harden a bit as he watched Neville process what he said. More thoughts stampeded through his brain. He decided to add more to what he said.
"Just for the record: I know you're not a perfect person, Neville," Harry said and a small grin played on his face. "You've got flaws, just like me. You get pushy when you think you're right and I'm wrong. You can use silence as a weapon at times. You hide down here instead of telling the world to fuck off like you should. My eyesight mightn't be good, but I'm not blind."
Some of the darkness in Neville's face broke, and he smiled.
"Thanks, Harry. I did need to hear that," he said in his gentle manner. "I kept wondering if you got the wrong idea of me. What you were saying earlier didn't sound anything like the real me. Least ways I know now you're not entirely fooling yourself about who I am."
"Neville," Harry whispered the name and leaned in closer. "Part of what I love about you is your secret arrogance. It's where some of your strength comes from."
"Harry, you talk in your sleep and you snore," Neville rejoined. "I know you're not fond of kippers with their eyes in `cause you think they can see you cutting into them."
"What? Neville!"
"I'm not the one who said it, mate: you did!"
The mood shifted, but in a weirdly wonderful manner. Harry looked at Neville and he saw Neville. Nothing changed, yet it seemed different. He liked the difference. The glamour from their moment of intense intimacy and profound interpersonal revelations fell away. Harry simply saw Neville Longbottom, and he realized yet again how much he truly liked the teenager. He felt the love, but the like suddenly seemed far more important.
"What?" Neville asked.
"Got a question for you, Neville, and you need to really, really think about it before you answer. Okay?"
Neville nodded.
"Right, so here goes," and Harry steeled himself. "Neville, do you honestly like me as a person? And I mean as a person who you'd kick around with even if there wasn't a promise of sex and snogging and cuddling and all that?"
Neville opened his mouth, and Harry quickly held up a finger. He truly wanted a thoughtful answer and not just a knee-jerk one. Neville stared at him and slowly squinted his eyes. The scrutiny intensified, and Harry began to wonder if he erred in asking such an important question. However, he managed to survive the Merscots, and he doubted Neville would chop him into chum at the moment.
"You know what? I do like you," Neville said. "And I mean I like you as a friend. I would hang around with you even if we didn't try to share the same bed each night."
He sighed, Neville snickered, and then Harry said: "I think I know what we really need to do. I think no matter what else happens between us we should always try to be friends first. Does that sound okay?"
"Yeah, but why? Where'd you get this notion all of sudden?"
"It just sort of hit me, but now that I think about it, I remember what some of my mum and dad's friend said about them. They said my mum and her lady Lyra stayed friends even though they loved each other, and my dad and Sirius did the same. They all lived together after I was born, and they worked at staying friends: mum with Lyra and dad with Sirius. I didn't get why my godfather told me that, but I do now. I think he was trying to get me ready for a moment like this."
"Never heard it put like that, but it makes a lot of sense," Neville said while one side of his mouth crooked upward in thought. "So it's friends first and boyfriends second?"
"Something like that, but they sort of go together. If my mum and dad got it right, we need to like each other all the time," Harry said as he continued to think through what he said. "How many times have you seen two guys get together, act like they're madly in love, and then hate each other month later? I think it's `cause they forgot to like each other first."
"Then we did it, right, didn't we? We got to know each other and like each other first."
"Yeah, plus we tossed off a lot," Harry reminded him.
"Like friends do," Neville quipped with what sounded like absolute certainty.
Harry burst out laughing, and Neville quickly joined in the amusement. Of everything that transpired in the greenhouse late on that Sunday morning, Harry immediately began to sense the talk about being friends might be the most important. For a brief moment he felt more mature than his years. However, he laughed with all the gusto of a fourteen-year old.