Greenhouse Number Four
Pairing: Neville Longbottom / Colin Creevey
Rating: "R" for language and minor sexual content
DISCLAIMER: This story is fictional – that's F-I-C-T-I-O-N. It never happened, and is not real. It is the product of my own imagination. It contains descriptions of male slash (that's male/male homosexual relations). If you do not like this type of content, or if you find homosexuality or its practice offensive, please click the "Back" button or close your Internet browser NOW, and do not read any further. All characters and copyrights are owned by J.K Rowling and Warner Brothers™ (AOL Time Warner), but this story is owned by me and is all my own work.
On a cold late-October Saturday morning with the wind howling and the rain attempting to drown from above anyone who ventured outside, there was excitement in the very air of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. After all, the students had been slaving away at lessons for nearly two months now, and at last it was time for their first Hogsmeade weekend of the school year.
But not everyone from third year and above was looking forward to spending a galleon in Zonko's Joke Shop or a few knuts on butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks. For a troubled young fourth year Gryffindor sat on his four-poster clutching his prized camera to his chest. He had drawn his curtains around the bed to hide away, hoping that nobody would disturb the few moments of total privacy he had created – a very rare moment in any boarding school since your closest friends also shared your bedroom. He was trying his utmost to block out all his thoughts and feelings, if only for a few minutes. Not that he was completely miserable – after all, what did he have to be miserable about? He had his health, a roof over his head, money, two parents and a brother who loved him very much; his school grades were good, people felt that he had a real talent for photography and outwardly he appeared to be a happy, successful young man. But inside, he'd been having these strange thoughts and feelings… and they frightened him.
Suddenly the curtains were ripped apart with a whooshing sound, startling Colin Creevey out of his thoughtful reverie.
"God, Dennis, can't you give me five minutes peace?" shouted Colin, as he looked up and saw that his visitor was, as usual, Dennis, his younger brother. Just having started third year, it would be the first time that Dennis got to see Hogsmeade.
"But everybody's leaving!" Dennis whined. Colin gave a big sigh. It was going to be one of those days. 'Why does the little brat have to hang around ME all the time?' he thought sullenly. 'Why can't he see that I just want to be alone?' But Colin would never have dreamed of telling Dennis these thoughts, so instead he tried a different tactic – the excuses, excuses, excuses routine.
"Err, Dennis, I'm not going down to Hogsmeade today. I've got a stinking headache and I thought I'd just stay inside in the quiet and go and see Madam Pomfrey in an hour or so if it doesn't get better."
"Aww, but the fresh air will do you good, make you feel better," Dennis coaxed. 'Damn' thought Colin, 'it's not going to work. Okay, let's try Plan B'.
"I've also got a big Herbology assignment to finish by Monday, Den. You go on ahead, maybe I'll catch you up later?" he tried.
"But you've got all of tomorrow to do Herbology"
"Dennis…"
"Aw, c'moooon, Colin!" pleaded the boy's younger brother. "You said you'd buy me a butterbeer in the Two Brooms."
"For the last time, Den, it's the Three Broomsticks!" Colin snapped. "And you don't need me to hold your hand everywhere you go! Haven't you got friends of your own?"
"But it's my first Hogsmeade weekend! You –"
"Oh, here!" Colin sighed, throwing a sickle in Dennis' direction and just narrowly missed his head. "You and your friends have a few on me and get out!". Knowing when he was beaten, Dennis crept out of Colin's dormitory. He knew Colin got moody sometimes, but it had never been like this.
Colin tried to block the thoughts out of his head again. He lay on his bed and clutched his camera, eyes screwed so tightly that pink and purple shapes swirled in front of them. He tried to think about photography, of the wonderful pictures he'd get of the school grounds in a few weeks when winter and frost and hopefully snow hit the school. But as they always did, the horrible thoughts came sweeping back to him and suddenly he wanted – no, needed – to be anywhere but this bed, this room. He jumped up, put his camera down on the bedside table, ran out of the dormitory and, careful that nobody saw him, made his way out to the Herbology greenhouses. 'At least I can be alone there', he thought, 'being Saturday, anyone who's not in Hogsmeade won't be anywhere near schoolwork'.
Why did he have to have these stupid…urges all the time? He felt like throwing stones at the greenhouses, making them smash, taking out all his fears and frustrations on the innocent sheets of glass that could break just as easily and delicately as a hurting heart. 'I suppose I shouldn't take it out on Dennis, though' Colin thought gloomily. 'It's not his fault'.
"Well, if you want to talk about anything, I'm here, you know," his brother had said to him the other day. 'Fair enough, but how could I tell him something like this' he thought. 'And anyway, he wouldn't understand. He's just a boy. Hell, even I don't understand it…' Colin sighed deeply. Oh, to be just like Dennis. Younger, better looking, and in complete and utter ignorance of the world. But then again, did he really want to go back in time a year? No. That was irrational. 'God, I'm so confused I don't even know who I am any more!'
Colin paused. He looked around and saw that he was outside Greenhouse Number Three without even knowing that he had left the castle. He reached out his arm to open the door, and was about to step into the greenhouse when he stopped. Out of the corner of his eye he saw shadows moving in Greenhouse Number Four next door. He looked, and realised that it was Neville Longbottom, one of the Gryffindor fifth years, doing some extra Herbology work himself. Suddenly not wanting to be alone, he turned and walked slowly towards Greenhouse Number Four. He opened the small door of the greenhouse, took a deep breath, and stepped across the threshold.
"Hello, Colin," Neville greeted the younger boy cheerily. It was a good day today – he had found three new functions of his precious mimbulus mimbletonia and had just received a practice OWL paper back from Professor Sprout, having been given an O for 'Outstanding'! Everyone else was in Hogsmeade and he hadn't run into any of the Slytherin goons and bullies since he'd woken up.
"Hi, Neville."
"How come you're not in Hogsmeade with all the others? Don't tell me - you've had the sudden, irrepressible urge to prune galadria shrubs as well?" he asked jokingly, for that was the task he was himself completing, to help out his Herbology teacher.
"Nah," Colin laughed. "Just didn't feel like going into town today. The greenhouses seemed a nice place to be alone with my thoughts and do a bit of Herbology work since the weather's awful and Peeves is playing up again. He's throwing dungbombs at anything that moves, and Filch is on the warpath after him."
"Fair enough," the older boy shrugged as he got back to his work. Colin made no attempt to leave, even though he thought that the conversation between them had ended.
"A knut for them!"
"Wha…" For the second time that day, Colin was startled out of a thoughtful reverie a few minutes later by a cheery voice.
"Your thoughts. A knut for your thoughts!" said Neville, holding out a small bronze coin.
"Oh. Err…" stuttered the younger boy. He didn't want Neville to find out about any of those thoughts. "I was just, err… trying to remember the properties of gillyweed," he lied.
"Ha! Come off it, Colin." Neville noticed a slight look of – well, not fear, or surprise, but that 'deer-in-headlights' look, the one you get when you've just been caught doing something naughty and can't blame somebody else. He took a few steps towards the boy and spoke softly. "Do you want to talk about it? Because whatever it is that's bothering you, I won't tell a soul. But sometimes it helps if you tell someone about it."
"There's nothing wrong!" barked Colin, on the defensive. But Neville was having none of it.
"Okay, if you insist" the older boy said, almost sarcastically. "But why don't you take a chance? I guarantee it feels a lot better when you tell someone about a problem. Trust me, Colin. You can trust me."
Colin sniffed, as if trying to choke back a sob of sorrow.
"I, um, don't know how to say it," he began.
"Go on," soothed Neville, putting his arm around Colin's shoulder. Colin felt almost a sort of electric charge from his companion's contact. It made him feel warm and tingly inside, the tingly feelings starting at his shoulder, directly beneath Neville's hand, and spreading in waves all around his body as if Neville's touch was radiating peace and contentment throughout his very soul. But Neville's hand was doing more than make him feel nice, he realised. The warm, tingly feeling was courage, and it was as if the fifth year was filling Colin up with bravery. And although every ounce of his willpower and common sense was screaming at him to leave and run as far away from the Herbology greenhouses as fast as he physically could, his subconscious and his heart were telling him a different story. He looked up, and his eyes met the deep gaze of Neville's. He knew now that sheer words could not express the thoughts and feelings running through his mind, but that a single gesture could sum up all of his fears and confusion without uttering a single syllable.
Colin leaned in towards the older boy, almost hypnotized by his eyes and gaze. Their lips met with the softest touch, barely making contact. Suddenly he realised what he'd just done, pulled his head back with a jerk, and turned, meaning to run away. But Neville caught him by the arm and pulled, preventing his escape.
"I-I-… b-b-but…" Colin stammered. It was bad enough that he had nearly admitted these feelings he'd been having for the last few months, but to act on them? Oh no! It would be round the school before he even got back to his dormitory! And then everybody would know about how disgusting Colin Creevey was, how he was a… a… 'I can't even think it,' he thought. The pressure on his arm pulling back towards the older boy pulled him back to reality just in time to see Neville leaning in towards him! And this time there was again a tiny peck on the lips, but then their mouths opened and their tongues met and before long Colin had to pull away again to take stock of what was happening around him.
This wasn't how the bad thoughts always made him feel. They made him feel dirty and wicked and guilty and above all wrong, but that kiss had felt nothing but right, only right, and that meant… it meant…
"I'm… gay," he whispered.
"Sorry? Did you say something?"
"Oh, no," Colin replied. "I was just, err… clearing my throat." And with that, he leaned in again and started another kiss. 'Yes', he thought, 'I'm gay. I'm a dirty fucking queer… and… and I'm loving every bloody minute of it! It's… it's… fabulous!'
Tongues stroking tongues. Hands clasping heads and bodies. Inside Greenhouse Number Four, there were only two boys, but in their worlds, at that moment, they were the only two people who existed. All that they had was each other, and all that they wanted was to hang onto this moment, to keep it forever, never ending. But like all good things, all too soon it had to come to an end as Colin, inexperienced as he was, had forgotten to breathe through his nose in the excitement of the moment and had to come up for air.
"So has that help explain what you wanted to say?" asked Neville softly, with a knowing look in his eyes. "I see it has!" he said without waiting for a spoken reply, for the feeling of a sudden hardness poking at his waist had answered on Colin's behalf!
"I… err…"
"Shhh." The eldest soothed, his hand stroking down Colin's chest and coming to rest in between his legs. He smiled at the sudden gasp of breath from the younger boy on contact. Neville smiled like a cat that'd gotten the cream as he slowly pulled down Colin's zip fly and undid the top button of his jeans. The older boy pulled Colin's modest but very eager erection out of the fly of his boxer shorts and his hand encircled it, stroking softly, up and down.
"Oh, my…ooh!" Colin whimpered. Nobody had ever touched him… down there. In fact, nobody had ever seen him down there, as he was a modest and shy boy and did his best to hide himself from the other boys in his year at bathing time and after quidditch lessons.
"You like?" teased Neville, knowing quite rightly that the answer was in the affirmative.
"Uh-huh!"
"Good. Just enjoy, okay?"
"Oh," Colin moaned, his eyes screwed up tightly. "Oh, yes! Mmmm, yeah! Oh, Harry!"
With that, Neville suddenly stopped his administrations, his hand clamping tightly into a fist.
"What did you say?" he whispered. Colin did not need to be the most sexually experienced person in the Universe to work out from the hurt in Neville's voice that he had just done something completely unforgivable.
"N-nothing," he stammered. "I d-didn't say a-a-anything!"
"You said 'Harry'. Harry Potter?" Silence. "Harry Potter!" the fifth year demanded, his voice gaining more and more volume. "Not happy enough that you're with me, eh? You'd rather pretend you're making out with someone else than admit you're enjoying yourself with me?" With that, Neville let go of … Colin and stepped back from him.
"No, I…"
"Just wasn't satisfied by someone who would give you the time of day, were you!"
"Yes…but – "
"But what!"
"I… err… Harry – "
"Don't you ever compare me to Harry fucking Potter!" Neville screamed, his face steadily turning redder and redder in sheer fury. "Everyone is always harping on about the famous Boy Who Lived! But didn't I live too? Doesn't anyone ever stop to think about that? Doesn't anyone ever stop to think that maybe poor old Neville Longbottom has feelings too?" he demanded. Colin winced, not so much at Neville's words but at their suddenness and the terrible ferocity and venom that they were spoken with. "Just because Harry has that bloody scar across his face everyone likes him. Everyone wants to be with him and be just like him." His words were of pure loathing.
"All because of that stupid scar" he said, more gently but his speech was still laced with acid, his eyes hot and stinging but the sheer determination to save face and keep up appearances blocked the tears which were trying at all costs to run down his face. "I have scars too, you know. Just because they're not slapped across my head where the whole world can stare at them day in day out. Yes, I have scars too," he spoke more softly now, in a voice little more than a whisper. "Only nobody can see them. They're the scars that cut into my very mind and soul."
"I-I-I'm…" stuttered Colin, barely able to utter anything at all, never mind an apology.
"Sorry?" Neville finished for him. "Yeah. You're always sorry. You all are. Well, you know something? So am I. Why does everyone think I want their sodding pity all the time?" Colin looked forlornly at the older boy, shaking from head to toe. 'It's horrible being shouted at by Neville Longbottom', he thought as he hurried to get dressed, 'because he's just like a big friendly dog biting you. It's not the actual words that hit you and hurt you the most; it's the fact that it is so completely unexpected'.
"Get out!"
"B-b-but… Neville, I – "
"Greenhouse Number Four is strictly prohibited to all students who are not studying for a NEWT in Advanced Herbology without Professor Sprout's expressed permission. Go on and get out!" Neville sneered at the trembling fourth year. "If all you wanted was a quick schoolboy fumble with Hogwarts' resident celebrity, he's down in Hogsmeade with everyone else. Otherwise I suggest that you go back to Greenhouse Number Three where all the other children belong."
The last remark was too much for Colin, and the younger student fled from an angry Neville in tears. He didn't know where he was going to, just that it would be as far from Greenhouse Number Four as physically possible without leaving the Hogwarts grounds. The last person he wanted to run into now was Mr. Filch. 'No', he thought sadly, 'the last person I want to be anywhere near now is Neville Longbottom'.
Colin walked slowly, almost hesitantly, towards the castle. The rain was still pouring down and within seconds he was soaked to the skin. He didn't care any more than he was bothered about what the precious Harry Potter was doing down in Hogsmeade. But the rain he was thankful for. It meant that anybody who might see him on his way back to Gryffindor Tower would not see the state of his face and see that he'd been crying.
"Oh Neville, my love," he said into thin air, knowing that Neville himself would never hear the words he'd been aching to say to him. "I just didn't want you to think that I was too keen, that it was you I wanted all along."