bksncleverness & arionrhod
Author: bksncleverness
Title: Untitled
Challenge: no challenge
Pairing: Harry/Neville
Neville squirmed under Harry's close scrutiny.
"What are you looking at?" he asked quietly.
"The man I love, Neville," said Harry as he placed a rough hand on the other boy's cheek.
"What about Ron, Hermione? What about all the people who know you and love you and want to be with you?"
"It's you, Nev. It's always been you." Harry gently placed his lips on Neville's.
Harry pulled away and Neville whispered, "But I'm not anybody. I'm nothing." He looked at the floor.
Harry lifted Neville's chin and forced him to look into the startling green eyes. "Neville, you saved my life. You're a hero. You're *my* hero."
"Harry, I could kill a thousand death eaters and still I'd be unworthy of you. You're the the Boy Who Lived," his voice caught in his throat.
"I'm also the Boy Who Loves You," Harry said and took the trembling Neville in his arms.
Author: arionrhod
Title: Such Things Are These, Out of Dreams, Become Real
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Neville's longings seem certain to go forever unfulfilled... or do they?
Notes: Written for the hp_remix
Neville squirmed under Harry's close scrutiny.
"What are you looking at?" he asked quietly.
"The man I love, Neville," said Harry as he placed a rough hand on the other boy's cheek.
"What about Ron, Hermione? What about all the people who know you and love you and want to be with you?"
"It's you, Nev. It's always been you." Harry gently placed his lips on Neville's.
Harry pulled away and Neville whispered, "But I'm not anybody. I'm nothing." He looked at the floor.
Harry lifted Neville's chin and forced him to look into the startling green eyes. "Neville, you saved my life. You're a hero. You're *my* hero."
"Harry, I could kill a thousand death eaters and still I'd be unworthy of you. You're the the Boy Who Lived," his voice caught in his throat.
"I'm also the Boy Who Loves You," Harry said and took the trembling Neville in his arms.
-----
Neville Longbottom woke suddenly, sitting up in the bed with his heart pounding painfully in his chest. The dream-arms which had enclosed him, which had held him with such warmth and tenderness, faded into the cold realization of the empty air around him. He felt an aching loss for something he had never had - and most likely never would. It was amazing how bitter nothing could feel.
That dream again, he thought, rubbing a hand wearily over his eyes. I don't know how much more of this I can take and not blurt out how I feel in the middle of the Great Hall.
The brown haired Gryffindor sighed, listening to the sounds of the room outside his drawn velvet bedcurtains. All was silent in the seventh year boys room; well, as silent as it ever was, given Seamus' ceaseless, rumbling snore and Ron's penchant for talking - loudly - in his sleep. Every last one of the wizards who shared the room knew exactly how Ron felt about Hermione Granger, having been woken up by his nocturnal ramblings. Every one of them, that is, except Ron Weasley; it was a source of great amusement to the rest of them that the redhead was still in complete denial about it.
Neville, on the other hand, was not in denial about his feelings for Harry, not in the slightest. How could he deny that his breath grew short and his face grew warm at a mere sideways glance of forest green eyes? When a casual brush of a hand over his as plates were passed around the dinner table could make him tremble? When the sight of a naked body in the showers could rob him of breath and strength, so much so that the first time it had happened, he had actually staggered and fallen and had to stammer an apology as Harry helped him to his feet?
He had avoided the showers after that, at least when Harry was in them. Not because he didn't want to look, but because he was afraid that he would look too much.
Sighing, Neville pushed back the blankets, swinging his feet over the side of the bed and drawing back the bed curtains. He slipped out silently, standing in a spill of moonlight seeping in through the open drapes at the tall windows, throwing his shadow across the room to face him from the wall. Turning away, towards the glass-paned portal, his eyes were dazzled for a moment by the silver-white brightness - and he held up a hand to shade his eyes.
It was then that he noticed a figure, low, hunched, sitting with arms wrapped around knees at the base of the window, face averted. Even though colors were skewed and features indistinct, Neville recognized Harry at once by posture, by the curve of his neck and the long line of his back, bent forward was it was when, broom-borne, he searched for the Snitch. Neville wondered what Harry was searching for now, gazing out upon the night like silent sentinel, keeping solitary vigil in the highest window of Gryffindor Tower.
His heartbeat quickened, and Neville felt a twinge at the loneliness of the sight. What he would have given to have the right to go to Harry, to take him in his arms and ease the green-eyed wizard's pain. To let him know that there was someone to share the load, take part of the burden. Neville was not as clever as Hermione, nor as strong as Ron; he knew he did not have Lupin's wisdom, nor Dumbledore's ability. He didn't even have Snape's sarcastic but effective way of spurring Harry into doing what needed to be done. He didn't possess many of the things that the other people in Harry's life did, could not support him in the same ways; but Neville had strong shoulders, and he was loyal, and he had love. For Harry, he could be brave. For Harry, he would be anything he had to be.
Only Harry didn't know this... and Neville couldn't say it.
Suddenly feeling like a spy, like an intruder, Neville turned back towards his bed.
"Hullo, Neville," Harry said suddenly, voice low but distinct in the stillness. Startled, Neville blinked, eyes wide. He hesitated for a long moment then walked over quietly, curiosity getting the better of his reticence.
"How'd you know it was me?" he asked softly, standing just behind Harry. Harry still faced outwards, moonlight playing on his messy mop of hair, and Neville longed to reach out, to run his fingers through it and see if it was as soft as it looked.
"Seamus is still snoring," Harry replied. "Dean would have asked me what I was doing, and Ron would have complained that I was letting the cold air in. I heard someone moving, someone who was quiet... and so it could only have been you."
"Oh." Neville flushed, grateful that the silvery light would bleach the color from his face, if Harry turned around to look. How odd, and quite painful in a way, to be recognized not for who he was, but for who he was not. How typical, too, come to think of it. Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived. Neville Longbottom - The-Boy-Who-Was-Not.
"That's not an insult, you know," Harry continued, almost as though sensing the direction of Neville's thoughts. "It doesn't mean I compare you to them, or that you are lacking in any way. If anything, it's quite the opposite."
Confusion overcame Neville's embarrassment. "I... I don't understand," he finally stammered.
Finally, Harry turned his regard from the night outside to the darkness inside. Moonlight glinted on his glasses, and his face was in shadow, but Neville could feel the green-eyed gaze, could feel Harry's eyes sliding over him. From his broad shoulders, down the long length of his body - Neville had grown surprisingly tall at seventeen - to his bare feet; then back up again, finally coming to rest on Neville's face, which had lost its childish roundness, slimming down into high cheekbones and a strong jaw. Somehow Neville felt as though Harry saw him, truly saw him, in a way that no one else did.
"There is a restfulness in your quiet," Harry replied, straightening from his crouch, stretching his long legs out before him on the window ledge and leaning back on his arms as he regarded the other boy. "An acceptance. For Ron, I must be the best friend... for Hermione, I have to be the brave one. For Remus - and for Snape, in a way - I have to be James Potter's son. For Dumbledore, for the Weasley's, for... well, everyone else, I have to be The-Boy-Who-Lived." Sighing Harry shook his head. "You are the only one, Neville, for whom I am Harry... nothing more, nothing less, just... Harry."
It was so much exactly how Neville felt, so close to how he thought, that he was stunned into silence. He knew he was blushing again, knew that his eyes were wide, his breathing was stopped and yet his heart was hammering loudly enough that certainly it had to wake the whole tower. He couldn't speak, even if he knew what to say... and so he stood, mute and still, as Harry flowed to his feet and took two steps towards him.
"I have to be strong for everyone else," Harry said, tilting his head to one side as he looked at Neville. "But you... you are strong for me."
"I... I want to be strong for you, Harry," Neville replied, even though, ironically, he was trembling where he stood, knees weak with the nearness of the other boy. "You..." You mean the world to me, Neville's eyes said, although his voice had once again deserted him. I love you, Harry, the thought continued. I love you with all that I am.
"I know," the green-eyed wizard responded. Neville thought he was merely responding to the spoken words... but then Harry took another step towards him, and then another. A final step, and Harry stood pressed lightly against Neville's body. They were much of a height, and so it was no problem for Harry to lean forward, one hand rising to the back of Neville's neck, and bring their lips together in a soft, gentle kiss.
I'm dreaming again, Neville thought, dazed. His eyes slid closed as he gave in, his arms wrapping around Harry, pulling him closer. If it was a dream, after all, there was no harm. I never woke up before. I never want to wake up...
Harry's other arm cupped Neville's jaw, and the dark-haired wizard deepened the kiss, slowly but insistently parting Neville's lips with his tongue. Sighing, the other wizard acquiesced, responding hesitantly at first, but then more boldly as Harry moaned softly in appreciation.
It continued, deep, slow, almost leisurely, an exploration that left them both breathing hard when it finally ended. Stunned, Neville opened his eyes once more, swallowing as he looked into Harry's eyes.
"What was that for?" he asked. Even though he was afraid to hear the answer, he had to know, had to hear why Harry had kissed him. Was it just gratitude, and nothing more?
"For being you," came the quiet reply. "For loving me."
"Oh," Neville replied, for the second time that night. "You know." He dropped his eyes to the floor, face hot. "Harry, you don't have to... I mean... Just because I feel..." His voice trailed off, and he sighed. "Don't, not out of pity, or charity, or..."
"Pity?" Harry said, voice so disbelieving that Neville raised his eyes again, to see the incredulity written on the dark-haired wizard's face. "Charity? You think..." Sighing, Harry shook his head. "I'm a selfish enough prat, Neville, that I wouldn't kiss you out of charity, or pity, either. I kissed you because I wanted to. I kissed you because, Merlin help me, I love you, too."
Warmth spread through Neville, pure joy brighter than anything he had ever known. He was almost dizzy with it, frightened even; never before had he ever been given what he wanted. Never before had what he wished for actually come true.
Suddenly he was glad for his dreams, happy for having heard Harry's avatar whisper the words to him in his own mind. For, now that it was real, now that Harry had actually spoken the words, Neville suddenly felt no hesitation or uncertainty at all. Harry would never lie to him, and Neville would never, ever lie to Harry.
"Good," he replied, voice soft and low, belying the enormous smile which suddenly lit up his face. "That is very, very good."
Harry blinked, shocked that Neville had accepted it so calmly. In his imaginings, he had thought he might have to woo the shy boy gently, coax him into accepting Harry's feelings as being real. As always, Neville constantly surprised him with new depths, with greater courage than Harry had ever seen before. If anything, it only made him love Neville more.
And while this easy acceptance had not been expected, it was certainly welcome. In more ways than one.
"Yes it is," Harry replied, hands sliding down Neville's arms until he held the other wizard's hands in his own. "And, if you will permit it, it can get even better." He stroked his thumbs over the backs of Neville's hands, slow circles that caused gooseflesh to rise on Neville's arms.
"I want it to get better, Harry," the brown-haired wizard said simply, surely.
Nodding, smiling, Harry led him to his bed, pulling the curtains around them to seal out the moonlight; to seal out the world. Two heartbeats joined in unison, and the magic they made between them was the oldest sorcery in the world.
Title: Untitled
Challenge: no challenge
Pairing: Harry/Neville
Neville squirmed under Harry's close scrutiny.
"What are you looking at?" he asked quietly.
"The man I love, Neville," said Harry as he placed a rough hand on the other boy's cheek.
"What about Ron, Hermione? What about all the people who know you and love you and want to be with you?"
"It's you, Nev. It's always been you." Harry gently placed his lips on Neville's.
Harry pulled away and Neville whispered, "But I'm not anybody. I'm nothing." He looked at the floor.
Harry lifted Neville's chin and forced him to look into the startling green eyes. "Neville, you saved my life. You're a hero. You're *my* hero."
"Harry, I could kill a thousand death eaters and still I'd be unworthy of you. You're the the Boy Who Lived," his voice caught in his throat.
"I'm also the Boy Who Loves You," Harry said and took the trembling Neville in his arms.
Author: arionrhod
Title: Such Things Are These, Out of Dreams, Become Real
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Neville's longings seem certain to go forever unfulfilled... or do they?
Notes: Written for the hp_remix
Neville squirmed under Harry's close scrutiny.
"What are you looking at?" he asked quietly.
"The man I love, Neville," said Harry as he placed a rough hand on the other boy's cheek.
"What about Ron, Hermione? What about all the people who know you and love you and want to be with you?"
"It's you, Nev. It's always been you." Harry gently placed his lips on Neville's.
Harry pulled away and Neville whispered, "But I'm not anybody. I'm nothing." He looked at the floor.
Harry lifted Neville's chin and forced him to look into the startling green eyes. "Neville, you saved my life. You're a hero. You're *my* hero."
"Harry, I could kill a thousand death eaters and still I'd be unworthy of you. You're the the Boy Who Lived," his voice caught in his throat.
"I'm also the Boy Who Loves You," Harry said and took the trembling Neville in his arms.
-----
Neville Longbottom woke suddenly, sitting up in the bed with his heart pounding painfully in his chest. The dream-arms which had enclosed him, which had held him with such warmth and tenderness, faded into the cold realization of the empty air around him. He felt an aching loss for something he had never had - and most likely never would. It was amazing how bitter nothing could feel.
That dream again, he thought, rubbing a hand wearily over his eyes. I don't know how much more of this I can take and not blurt out how I feel in the middle of the Great Hall.
The brown haired Gryffindor sighed, listening to the sounds of the room outside his drawn velvet bedcurtains. All was silent in the seventh year boys room; well, as silent as it ever was, given Seamus' ceaseless, rumbling snore and Ron's penchant for talking - loudly - in his sleep. Every last one of the wizards who shared the room knew exactly how Ron felt about Hermione Granger, having been woken up by his nocturnal ramblings. Every one of them, that is, except Ron Weasley; it was a source of great amusement to the rest of them that the redhead was still in complete denial about it.
Neville, on the other hand, was not in denial about his feelings for Harry, not in the slightest. How could he deny that his breath grew short and his face grew warm at a mere sideways glance of forest green eyes? When a casual brush of a hand over his as plates were passed around the dinner table could make him tremble? When the sight of a naked body in the showers could rob him of breath and strength, so much so that the first time it had happened, he had actually staggered and fallen and had to stammer an apology as Harry helped him to his feet?
He had avoided the showers after that, at least when Harry was in them. Not because he didn't want to look, but because he was afraid that he would look too much.
Sighing, Neville pushed back the blankets, swinging his feet over the side of the bed and drawing back the bed curtains. He slipped out silently, standing in a spill of moonlight seeping in through the open drapes at the tall windows, throwing his shadow across the room to face him from the wall. Turning away, towards the glass-paned portal, his eyes were dazzled for a moment by the silver-white brightness - and he held up a hand to shade his eyes.
It was then that he noticed a figure, low, hunched, sitting with arms wrapped around knees at the base of the window, face averted. Even though colors were skewed and features indistinct, Neville recognized Harry at once by posture, by the curve of his neck and the long line of his back, bent forward was it was when, broom-borne, he searched for the Snitch. Neville wondered what Harry was searching for now, gazing out upon the night like silent sentinel, keeping solitary vigil in the highest window of Gryffindor Tower.
His heartbeat quickened, and Neville felt a twinge at the loneliness of the sight. What he would have given to have the right to go to Harry, to take him in his arms and ease the green-eyed wizard's pain. To let him know that there was someone to share the load, take part of the burden. Neville was not as clever as Hermione, nor as strong as Ron; he knew he did not have Lupin's wisdom, nor Dumbledore's ability. He didn't even have Snape's sarcastic but effective way of spurring Harry into doing what needed to be done. He didn't possess many of the things that the other people in Harry's life did, could not support him in the same ways; but Neville had strong shoulders, and he was loyal, and he had love. For Harry, he could be brave. For Harry, he would be anything he had to be.
Only Harry didn't know this... and Neville couldn't say it.
Suddenly feeling like a spy, like an intruder, Neville turned back towards his bed.
"Hullo, Neville," Harry said suddenly, voice low but distinct in the stillness. Startled, Neville blinked, eyes wide. He hesitated for a long moment then walked over quietly, curiosity getting the better of his reticence.
"How'd you know it was me?" he asked softly, standing just behind Harry. Harry still faced outwards, moonlight playing on his messy mop of hair, and Neville longed to reach out, to run his fingers through it and see if it was as soft as it looked.
"Seamus is still snoring," Harry replied. "Dean would have asked me what I was doing, and Ron would have complained that I was letting the cold air in. I heard someone moving, someone who was quiet... and so it could only have been you."
"Oh." Neville flushed, grateful that the silvery light would bleach the color from his face, if Harry turned around to look. How odd, and quite painful in a way, to be recognized not for who he was, but for who he was not. How typical, too, come to think of it. Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived. Neville Longbottom - The-Boy-Who-Was-Not.
"That's not an insult, you know," Harry continued, almost as though sensing the direction of Neville's thoughts. "It doesn't mean I compare you to them, or that you are lacking in any way. If anything, it's quite the opposite."
Confusion overcame Neville's embarrassment. "I... I don't understand," he finally stammered.
Finally, Harry turned his regard from the night outside to the darkness inside. Moonlight glinted on his glasses, and his face was in shadow, but Neville could feel the green-eyed gaze, could feel Harry's eyes sliding over him. From his broad shoulders, down the long length of his body - Neville had grown surprisingly tall at seventeen - to his bare feet; then back up again, finally coming to rest on Neville's face, which had lost its childish roundness, slimming down into high cheekbones and a strong jaw. Somehow Neville felt as though Harry saw him, truly saw him, in a way that no one else did.
"There is a restfulness in your quiet," Harry replied, straightening from his crouch, stretching his long legs out before him on the window ledge and leaning back on his arms as he regarded the other boy. "An acceptance. For Ron, I must be the best friend... for Hermione, I have to be the brave one. For Remus - and for Snape, in a way - I have to be James Potter's son. For Dumbledore, for the Weasley's, for... well, everyone else, I have to be The-Boy-Who-Lived." Sighing Harry shook his head. "You are the only one, Neville, for whom I am Harry... nothing more, nothing less, just... Harry."
It was so much exactly how Neville felt, so close to how he thought, that he was stunned into silence. He knew he was blushing again, knew that his eyes were wide, his breathing was stopped and yet his heart was hammering loudly enough that certainly it had to wake the whole tower. He couldn't speak, even if he knew what to say... and so he stood, mute and still, as Harry flowed to his feet and took two steps towards him.
"I have to be strong for everyone else," Harry said, tilting his head to one side as he looked at Neville. "But you... you are strong for me."
"I... I want to be strong for you, Harry," Neville replied, even though, ironically, he was trembling where he stood, knees weak with the nearness of the other boy. "You..." You mean the world to me, Neville's eyes said, although his voice had once again deserted him. I love you, Harry, the thought continued. I love you with all that I am.
"I know," the green-eyed wizard responded. Neville thought he was merely responding to the spoken words... but then Harry took another step towards him, and then another. A final step, and Harry stood pressed lightly against Neville's body. They were much of a height, and so it was no problem for Harry to lean forward, one hand rising to the back of Neville's neck, and bring their lips together in a soft, gentle kiss.
I'm dreaming again, Neville thought, dazed. His eyes slid closed as he gave in, his arms wrapping around Harry, pulling him closer. If it was a dream, after all, there was no harm. I never woke up before. I never want to wake up...
Harry's other arm cupped Neville's jaw, and the dark-haired wizard deepened the kiss, slowly but insistently parting Neville's lips with his tongue. Sighing, the other wizard acquiesced, responding hesitantly at first, but then more boldly as Harry moaned softly in appreciation.
It continued, deep, slow, almost leisurely, an exploration that left them both breathing hard when it finally ended. Stunned, Neville opened his eyes once more, swallowing as he looked into Harry's eyes.
"What was that for?" he asked. Even though he was afraid to hear the answer, he had to know, had to hear why Harry had kissed him. Was it just gratitude, and nothing more?
"For being you," came the quiet reply. "For loving me."
"Oh," Neville replied, for the second time that night. "You know." He dropped his eyes to the floor, face hot. "Harry, you don't have to... I mean... Just because I feel..." His voice trailed off, and he sighed. "Don't, not out of pity, or charity, or..."
"Pity?" Harry said, voice so disbelieving that Neville raised his eyes again, to see the incredulity written on the dark-haired wizard's face. "Charity? You think..." Sighing, Harry shook his head. "I'm a selfish enough prat, Neville, that I wouldn't kiss you out of charity, or pity, either. I kissed you because I wanted to. I kissed you because, Merlin help me, I love you, too."
Warmth spread through Neville, pure joy brighter than anything he had ever known. He was almost dizzy with it, frightened even; never before had he ever been given what he wanted. Never before had what he wished for actually come true.
Suddenly he was glad for his dreams, happy for having heard Harry's avatar whisper the words to him in his own mind. For, now that it was real, now that Harry had actually spoken the words, Neville suddenly felt no hesitation or uncertainty at all. Harry would never lie to him, and Neville would never, ever lie to Harry.
"Good," he replied, voice soft and low, belying the enormous smile which suddenly lit up his face. "That is very, very good."
Harry blinked, shocked that Neville had accepted it so calmly. In his imaginings, he had thought he might have to woo the shy boy gently, coax him into accepting Harry's feelings as being real. As always, Neville constantly surprised him with new depths, with greater courage than Harry had ever seen before. If anything, it only made him love Neville more.
And while this easy acceptance had not been expected, it was certainly welcome. In more ways than one.
"Yes it is," Harry replied, hands sliding down Neville's arms until he held the other wizard's hands in his own. "And, if you will permit it, it can get even better." He stroked his thumbs over the backs of Neville's hands, slow circles that caused gooseflesh to rise on Neville's arms.
"I want it to get better, Harry," the brown-haired wizard said simply, surely.
Nodding, smiling, Harry led him to his bed, pulling the curtains around them to seal out the moonlight; to seal out the world. Two heartbeats joined in unison, and the magic they made between them was the oldest sorcery in the world.