An entire month had passed since the funeral of two of the worlds most celebrated Aurors, Frank and Alice Longbottom, their deaths mere cannon fodder in the final stages of the Dark Lord's uprising. Death came as a swift and merciful end to their pitiful existences and a collective sigh of relief was uttered by all those in the wizarding community who still remembered them. All those, that is, except for there son.
Neville Longbottom was to be found brooding alone in a mysterious room on the seventh floor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The room, situated opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, was invisible to those who knew not of its existence and would provide the occupant with a solace fitted to there current needs. Aptly named 'The Room of Requirement' it was now providing it's sole occupant with a large four poster bed on which to cry his heart out and what appeared to be a lifetimes supply of tissues.
A muffled plea echoed around the room as he cried into his thick duvet, "Why?" Neville had never harmed another living soul and yet the God he had once believed in still found some perverse pleasure in stripping him of everyone he had ever cared about. Emotions chased each other around Neville's mind. Sorrow and guilt clashed as each fought for prominence and the wallowing teen fell quickly into another bout of tears. Sunset faded to night as the crying continued. The newly risen moon now threw the grieving Gryffindor's round face into sharp relief yet still he made no move to conjure a light. He merely wept alone in the darkness absorbed in his own self pity. A pile of discarded tissues lay in a pile next to the bed. Dusk was approaching when Neville finally decided to head back to the dormitory. The last of the bed curtains would have been drawn long ago and he would be able to cry himself to sleep without ridicule or pity.
Just then a noise caused Neville to start. Someone was opening the door. There was a rattle of a doorknob, the creak of unoiled hinges an in walked a short, dark haired bespectacled boy with stunning emerald green eyes that sparkled in the moonlight and pierced Neville's aching heart.
Oh God no! Anyone but him! Neville wasn't ready to face Harry yet. It had only been a month yet the shame still consumed him. The embarrassment ate away at him night and day. He relived the traumatising moment on a nightly basis and awoke every time in a cold sweat to find that Harry was also having nightmares. He would watch the green eyed beauty toss and turn for a long time before whispering goodnight and easing back into a troubled sleep.
Although, impossible as it was to avoid Harry during classes, Neville had successfully avoided him since the funeral by ignoring him during class and retreating to the solitude or the room of requirement during his free time but at last the source of his shame had caught up with him.
"Nev?" whispered Harry in a soft voice but he may as well have shouted it for all that the single syllable echoed around Neville's head. 'Why does he have to say my name like that?' Thoughts of fleeing the room flashed through Neville's mind but with Harry blocking the only escape it was futile.
"Neville," Harry repeated more firmly with an almost pleading note to his voice. When Neville didn't reply Harry closed the gap between them and seated himself so close that their thighs touched. An involuntary shudder swept though Neville and he was aware of the blood rushing to his face. This was it. This was the moment he had been avoiding. The real reason he cried himself to sleep at night. The passing of his parents had obviously shaken him and he mourned them greatly but secretly he was relieved that they had eventually escaped their sad excuse of a life, but this was not the real reason for his melancholy.
No, the real reason was now sitting uncomfortably close with an unreadable expression on his face. This was more of a shock to Neville than Harry's sudden appearance. For years he had studied the handsome face of Harry with much scrutiny, memorising his every expression. Neville had felt the joy emanating from the other boy with every smile, shared in his sadness and giggled at the confused look that accompanied a particularly difficult transfiguration problem. He had felt a sense of pride at the steely resolve that showed in the set gaze of Harry when faced with danger. He had felt brave too. He, more than anyone, was a master at reading Harry but this was different. It was a look Neville had never encountered before and his heart skipped a beat as his eyes widened in recognition and he dared to hope. But he must be mistaken. How could Harry ever feel anything other than resentment and hatred for him after what he had done?
"About the night of your parents' funeral..." This was it. Neville braced himself for the sudden onslaught. How could Harry not want answers? Not want revenge? His actions had been inexcusable.
Back on that fateful night Neville had sought comfort in the one friend who had cared enough to attend the funeral. They had strolled in the moonlight and Harry had whispered words of comfort and understanding. He had wiped away Neville's tears and soothed his uncontrollable shaking in a bone crushing embrace. It was that hug more than anything that had made him do it. That hug that had made him feel truly wanted, truly loved for the first time since the insanity of his parents. He had felt the warmth of Harry's touch against his wet cheeks and the beat of his heart, his heart that was just so big, against his chest and he had just leaned in close and...
"Neville, why did you kiss me?" There was no anger in his voice. If anything there was a longing as if everything hung on the answer to this question. Neville felt Harry's hand rest lightly atop his own and wondered what was going on. He had expected Harry to be outraged. He had expected coldness and hatred. He had even expected violence. But he had never expected this. It was as if Harry already knew the answer and was merely awaiting confirmation and it was this gesture that made Neville reveal what he had kept hidden for so long.
He tried to make eye contact but the intensity of those watery green eyes was too much for him so he settled on letting his gaze fall on Harry's scar as he began to mumble an explanation.
"I never said goodbye you know. After they d-died. It was so sudden and I realised. I realised that I have to say what I feel, act on impulses because I may not get another chance. I kissed you because in that moment I wanted nothing more than to kiss you and I wanted nothing more than to kiss you because I...I love you Harry. Always have. Always will." Neville's last words were said to the floor but he immediately raised his head to gauge Harry's reaction.
Harry still had that unreadable expression on his face and he didn't respond immediately but when he did it was short and to the point. "I love you too Neville."
Did he just say what I think he did? Yes! What else could it have been? Neville tentatively leaned in towards Harry and closed his eyes. Without hesitation he felt Harry's arms snake around his waist and pull him into a kiss. He felt the softness of Harry's lips against his own. This is unbelievable. For years Neville had imagined this moment. Enacted this kiss time and time again in his head and sometimes with a pillow.
Harry's lips parted slightly and Neville took this as a cue to slip in his tongue and gently massage the inside of Harry's mouth. A contented groan from Harry told him this was the correct thing to do and he found himself leaning deeper into the kiss.
Harry, with both arms around Neville lost his balance and in an instant he was lying flat on the bed with Neville on top. Neville didn't see this as a particularly bad thing and adjusted his legs so Harry was now pinned to the bed. The kiss changed from the timid exploration of two teenage boys to one of ardent passion. Neville tasted the tang of blood but was unsure to whom it belonged but as Harry didn't complain nor did he.
There was a metallic clinking noise that may have been the sound of Harry fumbling to unbuckled Neville's belt. He couldn't be sure. He was too busy unzipping Harry's trousers. Within moments both boys were stripped down to their underwear wriggling beneath the thick duvet of the four poster bed. Their clothes lay discarded in a crumpled heap at the foot of the bed. For the first time in his life Neville felt in complete control. Of course he was nervous but the adrenaline, combined with the fact that he had fantasised about Harry so often that his every move had already been performed in his head thousands of times, gave Neville the sensation he could do no wrong. He was now living out his fantasies and was prepared for every and any eventuality.Neville had always thought this was an act best performed by another boy as only the same sex would know all the buttons to press. Apparently Harry thought the same as Neville's name was on his lips at the moment of climax. Neville could feel Harry's smile against his lips as he pulled out of the kiss. Harry looked bewildered for a moment as Neville leapt from the bed, with more grace than his clumsy form had ever shown before, only to return beaming and triumphantly clutching a box of tissues in his sticky hands.
The two boys shared a grin as they surveyed their surroundings and realised the dual purpose of a room with a large bed and a lifetimes supply of tissues.
Fin