Those Curious Gryffindor Boys
If you asked Neville Longbottom what accomplishment he was most proud of in his life he wouldn't hesitate to respond. He might have slayed the snake during the war but becoming a teacher was his greatest achievement.
He cared deeply about all of his students. Even the ones that gave him lip on a regular basis and drew crude pictures of him when they thought he wasn't looking. Neville felt a great swell of pride filling empty heads with a vast amount of knowledge.
Though plants could be dangerous there were never any severe issues in his classes. Sometimes the students fell asleep and there was that one time Scorpius Malfoy nearly got decapitated. He might have chuckled quite a bit once the initial shock wore off. Maybe he passed along Draco Malfoy's scathing letter to him over the incident to his friends but the incident was nearly three weeks ago and Neville wasn't known for having the best memory.
While he loved his job there were some things he couldn't quite get used too. For the most part he felt respected and well liked. He has an issue giving more house points than docking them so though there is back talk it is minimal. Other professors whispered that he was coasting by at Hogwarts. He needed to be meaner. He needed to be tougher. It was still too early in his career for him to be so comfortable but Neville ignored his colleagues.
They could talk all they want but he knew he dealt with the difficult situations. He was the only one that ever volunteered to do rounds! Granted his motives were selfish. He often ended up in the kitchens with a few warm bread rolls in his pockets and he didn't really reprimand the students when he saw them out of bed.
Neville didn't think he was lenient. In his head he was a commanding person and liked to believe the students turned around and went straight back to bed. He only ever docked points from the ones dumb enough to cross his path again instead of taking a different route.
Deep down he knew he had it easy. Sometimes Neville was convinced it was all a lark and he would wake-up one day with his Gran banging pots and pans over his head yelling at him to get out of bed and get a job.
Neville yawned tiredly and rounded the corner. One more floor and then he would be off to bed to lay his weary head. He shook his head and tried to focus. No more lollygagging for him. He was a professor! A man in an authoritative position! He needed to focus.
He hummed to himself as he continued down the corridor. He enjoyed doing rounds because it meant he could get lost in his own thoughts.
Neville paused, snapping to attention at a sound coming from the end of the corridor. He quickened his pace and clutched his wand in his right hand. As the noise got louder he no longer felt tired. It sounded like several people were arguing. He wasn't sure about what but they were making such a commotion his head was starting to hurt.
He stopped outside of a broom cupboard, the brouhaha reaching its peak. Neville closed his eyes for a second to brace himself. He hoped it wasn't anyone from Gryffindor. It always made him uneasy taking points away from his House.
He took two deep breaths and placed his hand on the knob and slowly opened the door.
As the door opened to reveal who was inside he jumped back from shock. James Potter and Hugo Weasley were pressed against each other in a very compromising position.
Hugo was wearing a leopard brassiere over his white t-shirt that looked to be two sizes too big. James was squeezing his left breast, hand stuck to the brassiere, as he stared at Neville with pure horror in his eyes. His cheeks flushed but he made no motion of moving his hand that was frozen to his cousins' chest.
"Ah...hem," was all Neville could muster.
Hugo grinned at him and placed a hand on his free breast cup and started to rummage around. After what seemed like a century he pulled out what appeared to be a piece of crumbled bread.
"Fancy some pumpernickel, Professor?"
Neville gaped at him while James dropped his hand from the bread filled breast cup.
After last night's debacle, Neville was trying his hardest to stay away from those curious Gryffindor boys. James Potter and Hugo Weasley were always up to trouble. Neville spent the night tossing and turning in bed trying unsuccessfully to get the image of Hugo's leopard brasserie that looked like an exact replica Hannah owned out of his head. He would make sure of it that brasserie wasn't part of her rotation anymore.
Instead of reprimanding them Neville had told the boys to skedaddle. He didn't bother to ask them what they were up to because he was certain he would be horrified by the answer. He normally would have sent a letter to their parents but what was he supposed to say?
Dear Harry and Ron,
Your sons are into some weird shit.
PS: See you next weekend for poker night!
All my best,
Neville
For some reason he didn't think that would go over too well. Harry would be in a tizzy and Ron...well...Ron was Ron. He would more than likely ask if the bread was buttered and toasted.
No matter, it was nearly lunchtime and he had successfully avoided both James and Hugo the entire morning. Neither were scheduled for his class today either. Since Neville didn't have the best memory by tomorrow the incident would be so far removed from his mind he would feel little discomfort being around either boy.
Neville rounded the corner with pep in his step. He was looking forward to lunch. The House Elves cooking was something he missed during the summer holidays since his wife had him on a diet back home. His thoughts were solely on a second helping of mashed potatoes as he came to a screeching halt.
James Potter and Hugo Weasley were crouched next to the girls' bathroom arguing loudly.
"Hugo, you nincompoop! You can't just barge in there. What if there's a girl in there?"
"We've been standing out here for ages," he said with a huff. "If there's a girl in there we might as well check in on her. Make sure she's alright."
James stared at his cousin flabbergasted. "Girls don't do that."
Hugo crossed his arms and stared at his cousin, unconvinced. "Oh yeah? Then how come they take forever in the loo?"
"I dunno?" James said with a shrug, "Because they sit down?"
"But what's the point of sitting down if they don't do that?"
Neville stood rooted to his spot. He felt discombobulated. He wasn't quite sure he was following their conversation. If he understood them correctly he had to suppress a loud snort. His toilet back home was always getting clogged because of Hannah. She was so regular it nearly turned him off of her. Nearly. He was a man after all.
"Fine. On the count of three we'll go in."
"One," said Hugo, crouching next to his cousin.
"Two," said James, sweat building on his upper lip.
"Three," said Neville, making the two boys jump in surprise.
They turned around and immediately turned crimson, gaping at Neville with a mixture of fear and shock on their faces.
"My office," he said half-heartedly, "now."
The silence was deafening. Both boys were squirming in their seats while Neville stared at them. He figured if he stayed as still as a statute they would get the hint and leave his office even though he was the one that called the meeting.
Sweat was rolling down Hugo's forehead and James was tapping his fingers on the side of his wooden chair nervously. Neville inhaled and exhaled loudly, mentally preparing himself for what was to come.
"Now boys, I understand at a certain age there is a new found curiosity when it comes to girls but for the love of Dumbledore, what is going on with the two of you?"
He could turn a blind eye to a leopard brasserie but when he found them crouched outside the girls' loo he knew he'd have to deal with the consequences no matter how damaging to his psyche it would be. If he ignored the situation Neville was certain he'd find the two of them in the Great Hall during dinner crawling under the tables trying to look up a girls skirt.
"To be frank Professor, we wanted to know how girls get breasts. Dorcas seems to have them now. Have you touched a girls boob before?" Hugo asked quietly. Next to him, James groaned.
Neville stared at Hugo's curious big brown eyes. The boy was always asking questions about this and about that. He was just like Hermione.
"Ahhh...huh...heee..."
"It's as if they appeared out of nowhere," Hugo continued. "Like magic!"
"A seventh year told me they're like big balls of sand but his girlfriend has a rather large chest," James said while crossing his arms against his own chest. "It isn't magic, is it?" he asked uneasily. "I'm not sure if I want them myself. I mean they look good on girls but-"
Neville could feel the sweat building up in his armpits. Thank heavens for robes.
"It can't be because of magic," Hugo said snootily. "I've seen Muggles with breasts. Your Uncle's wife has massive ones."
James sighed with relief having forgotten about his aunt that he rarely ever saw in the first place.
"Are Muggle breasts and magical breasts different?" he questioned as an afterthought.
Neville didn't know what to say. Were Muggle breasts and magical breasts different? He wasn't privy to such knowledge.
"Dad says Mum has such big ones he wants to set sail in them at night."
Neville blinked at Hugo's revelation. "I'm sorry, set sail?" He didn't know Ron was a seaman.
"Well, you see," said Hugo brimming at the audience before him, "Muggles have these things called motorboats."
Neville blanched.
"I had to look it up myself when I heard him use the term."
Neville pulled at his shirt collar. He was certain he had stopped breathing. He vaguely wondered if Severus Snape had ever been put in this situation. He had to suppress a chuckle as he imagined his former Professor sitting behind his desk ready to give prepubescent Slytherins the sex talk. He was certain Draco Malfoy would have been aghast-he always seemed like a bit of a prude to Neville-and would have kicked back his chair and yelled, "My father will hear about this!"
"Boys, boys, settle down please. I think it would be best if you spoke to your parents about this. They're best suited to answer any of your questions."
"But Professor-"
He held up his hand to silence James.
"I think talking to your parents is a wonderful idea. Now, let's get some lunch before everything disappears."
The boys didn't budge from their seats as Neville rose from his. James gave him a dark look that unnerved him.
"Have you lost your mind? You know how awkward my dad is. He'll just gape at me wordlessly and then ask me if I'd like a snack. I'm not even sure he knows what sex is."
Neville was certain he had lost his mind. Though he did feel for James. Even after Harry got married Neville questioned if his friend was still a virgin. James was right about one thing: his father was terribly awkward. When Neville thought of Harry engaging in sexual relations he imaged knocking knees and sweat dripping down his face as he tried to unsuccessfully push his glasses up the bridge of his sweaty nose and then a lot of apologizing on his end afterwards.
"Yes...well..."
"And my Dad-"
"Enough said," Neville quickly cut Hugo off before he could continue. He didn't even want to open up that tin of biscuits. Ron was simply Ron.
"I understand there's a certain curiosity at your age but curiosity did kill the cat and all that."
He chuckled but James and Hugo stared at him expressionless. Tough crowd.
He didn't quite understand what was going on with kids these days. James was fifteen. Did he really not know what sex was? Or that a breast was practically a magical being in its own right? Hugo was on the brink of turning thirteen. He should have been a dithering idiot around girls.
How early did boys go through puberty anyway? Neville tried to think back when he felt his first stirring but all the thinking made him feel weak.
Did he know what breasts felt like? If they had asked Neville that at nineteen he would have turned red and mumbled an incoherent lie. He hadn't been much of a ladies man. It didn't help he felt scarred from his Gran and Uncle Algie giving him the talk at the ripe age of eleven.
"What exactly is sex?"
"Do you know where babies come from?"
"How do you have sex?"
"Do girls really poo butterflies?"
Neville's head was spinning from the questions.
"Alright, alright. One at a time."
"Have you had sex?" Hugo questioned loudly.
Was it too early to retire after three years of teaching? Maybe he should have stuck to being an Auror. Maybe he would be Hannah's new bartender. Why did parents trust him with their kids again?
Neville dropped his head in his hands and exhaled loudly. He was trying to think about what the appropriate thing was to say. What would someone in his position do?
He didn't want to be completely inappropriate but he also didn't want the boys to think sex was a dirty thing. Though if anyone knew what went on in his bedroom he would have surely been locked up in Azkaban. Neville had a rather big appetite when it came to sex.
Would Harry be mad if he spoke to James about sex? He would probably thank him.
Would Ron be upset if he spoke to Hugo about sex? He would probably make him a sandwich.
Neville looked up at the two bouncing boys that were impatiently waiting for a response from.
Wasn't it his job to teach and spread his knowledge to his students?
So Neville did the only thing he could think of. He grabbed two small plants off his desk, one was a cactus while the other was a dandelion, and then he proceeded to tell the boys the truth.
Forty minutes later Hugo and James walked out of Neville's office in a daze. Their cheeks were pink and their shirts clung to their sweaty bodies.
They walked at a distance from each other instead of side by side like they normally did. The air felt thick between them.
"Do you think he believed us?" Hugo asked after a few minutes of silence.
"What's that now?" James responded, lost in his thoughts.
"Do you think Uncle Neville really believed we wanted to know about...well...you know."
James snapped to attention. "Oh. No, he's none the wiser it was all part of a dare. We really ought to be more careful. If he finds us again he'll surely tell our parents."
Hugo nodded in agreement and then halted abruptly.
"Do you really think what he said was true?"
"What part?" James asked, uneasily.
"All of it."
James shook his head. At fifteen he was used to questioning authority.
"I'm not sure. I mean I can't imagine-not that I want to-my dad doing that to my mum. He's such a bumbling mess."
"Neither can I. I mean it sounds like a bit of a workout. Dad is too sedentary."
James didn't respond. He was too lost in his thoughts. Everything Neville described sounded too far-fetched. It was also very confusing when he started to bend his plants. Herbologists, James concluded, were into some weird shit.
At fifteen James wasn't ready to admit to his younger cousin he had started to feel unexplainable stirrings in a region he never gave much thought. His hands also felt sweaty around girls and he had a problem completing sentences around them and had to train himself to keep his eyes on their mouth and not elsewhere.
He assumed he was dying and hadn't alerted his parents because they were such worriers.
Was he really going through-what had Neville called it? Puberty?
It wouldn't be until the summer holidays when James would walk in on his parents in the middle of the act that James would know Neville had told them the truth.
Neville would howl with laughter when James visited him after his first class next year to ask him if it was normal to keep your socks on during the deed or if it was all up to personal preference like his father suggested.