Accidentally In Love

Harry snapped shut his copy of "1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi" with an exasperated sigh. It was now half-past midnight, and he had concluded that whatever he didn't know now, he would not be able to learn before his herbology test the following morning. Straightening up slightly, Harry scanned aimlessly over his feeble attempt at revision notes.

"Oh sod it all," he sighed, slumping back onto the plump red sofa. He glanced to his left, where Neville sat, hunched over and scribbling fervently onto a roll of parchment. Although he was naturally gifted at herbology, Neville seemed unusually concerned about the upcoming assessment. It was also unlike him to be up so late, instead of getting his nightly eight hours of sleep, the benefits of which he had explained at length to the entirety of the boys' dormitory on several occasions.

"Neville, you need to go to bed," chided Harry, laying his hand on Neville's wrist to steady his frantic writing, "or you'll fall asleep in the middle of the test again."

"I know," whined Neville. "It's just that my grades are dropping and I absolutely have to get an O on this assessment or McGonagall will kill me and I've had almost no time to revise with Snape giving me detentions left right and centre even though I've only blown up one cauldron this term!"

This was all said very fast, and there was a moment of stunned silence before Neville pleaded "just another half-hour," and began scribbling again.

"Alright," said Harry "but I'm timing you. Half an hour and not a second more."

Neville merely grunted by way of reply, now focussed intently on a diagram of the root system of a venomous tentacula. Harry checked his wristwatch and pulled his knees up onto the sofa, so he was sitting like a large letter Z. He then began to gaze listlessly into the glowing embers of the common room fire, occupying his mind with fond memories of sleepless nights spent with Ron and Hermione, chatting away the hours in front of it.

As the night drew on around them, Neville continued furiously copying up notes. Harry on the other hand, felt tiredness beginning to set in. His eyes grew heavy, and several times he had to blink repeatedly to keep them open. But as his watch ticked ten to one, Harry grew so tired that he could stay awake no longer and slipped quietly into a peaceful sleep.

Neville had been taking notes on the proper care of bubotubers when Harry fell asleep, and he would have continued to do so, had it not been for the fact that Harry's entire body had lolled to one side, and his head had come to rest squarely on Neville's right shoulder. Neville froze. Could it be? He glanced nervously downwards and was greeted with a loud snore as Harry shifted in his sleep. Stupid Neville! He almost wanted to slap himself for daring to believe for even a moment that Harry Potter; gorgeous, kind, straight Harry Potter, might ever feel that way about him. Harry would never return his feelings.

Neville had known he and Harry would be good friends since the first time they'd met on the Hogwarts Express. But it hadn't been until two years ago, when he had seen Harry dancing with Parvati Patil at the Yule Ball, that he had realised his feelings were anything more than platonic. The sight of him in those green dress robes that matched his eyes so perfectly had distracted Neville so much, that he'd spent the entire evening stepping on Ginny's toes as he attempted to dance with her. Since then, Neville's feelings for Harry had only grown, and though he was pretty sure that no one at Hogwarts (except perhaps Malfoy and his cronies) would think any less of him, he'd only ever told Luna about his feelings, and had sworn her to secrecy.

For a long time, Neville didn't dare move for fear of waking Harry. He simply sat there pondering what to do and trying desperately not to stare longingly at his messy black hair and soft lips. But it was no good. Harry's warm breath was tickling the base of his neck, and Neville found himself gazing fondly at his closed eyelids, imagining the emerald green eyes that he knew lay beneath. Slowly, Neville eased his right arm from between the two of them and brought it up behind Harry's head, so that he could run his fingers through his jet black hair (something he'd wanted to do for a long time). Harry's hair was tousled and knotted, as usual, but to Neville, it was like fine strands of silk slipping through his fingers, and he couldn't help but smile as Harry sidled closer to him in his sleep, clearly dreaming of Ginny.

Neville's smile faded a little at this thought. He untangled his hand from Harry's hair and let it drift slowly downwards; past his face, over his shoulder, and coming to rest on his slender waist. Harry was so warm and soft to the touch, and Neville, almost involuntarily, drew him a little closer. It suddenly struck Neville that he would never again be able to hold Harry like this, and he felt himself tearing up. He wanted it to never end. He wanted to live forever in this perfect moment. There was only one thing missing. Neville returned his gaze to Harry's soft lips. Maybe if he was really careful…

"No Neville!" he chastised under his breath and turned away. But the temptation was too strong. He had yearned for this for the past two years, and if his only chance was now, he had to take it. Using his free hand, which had long since dropped the quill he had been taking notes with, Neville carefully raised Harry's chin and then, as if he were handling a piece of crystal that might shatter at any moment, he gently pressed his lips against Harry's.

The kiss was lopsided and awkward, but Neville didn't care. The sensation of Harry's warm lips against his own was ecstatic. It did not bother him that Harry was not kissing him back. He did not mind that his neck hurt from the angle. He did not even care that he would probably spend the rest of his life searching for another moment like this and never find one. He was kissing Harry Potter! And nothing in the world could have made him happier. Just as gently as he had placed them there, Neville withdrew his lips from Harry's, wanting desperately to keep going, but knowing that any longer and Harry would likely wake. It was therefore to his great dismay when, as Neville broke the kiss, Harry's eyes fluttered groggily open.

Neville gave a horrified sob and scrambled to the other end of the sofa, where he sat, wide-eyed, with his knees pulled up to his chest. There was a brief silence before Harry opened his mouth to say something but was cut off.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I just... You fell asleep and… I couldn't… I don't know… Oh god! ...I didn't mean to…" But Neville's words degenerated into an incoherent jumble and he began bawling his eyes out.

"Whoa whoa, calm down," said Harry, moving to sit beside Neville again. He put an arm round his shoulders and allowed his head to fall onto him. "Shhhh," he soothed, patting Neville gently. "It's alright. No harm done." Neville simply continued shaking and weeping into his shoulder. "Look," said Harry, "it's late. You're tired and stressed. We'll talk about this tomorrow, after herbology. And Neville, I'm not angry." Neville's sobbing abated at this.

"You… you're not?" he asked, drying his eyes.

"No," assured Harry, "and you need to go to bed. Come on." He helped Neville to his feet and guided him across the common room and up the spiral staircase to the dormitory. All the other boys were asleep, so they changed in silence, but Harry gave Neville what he hoped was a comforting smile before they both climbed into their respective beds and drew the curtains.

Neville fell asleep swiftly, his light snores joining those of Ron and Seamus, but Harry lay awake, mulling everything over. He'd never had feelings for any of his male friends, not even Ron, with whom he shared a deep bond, but recently, he'd begun to wonder if it wasn't entirely out of the question. His relationship with Ginny was satisfying enough, their kisses were always warm and passionate, but there had been something different about the way Neville had kissed him. He'd only felt the last few seconds, but there had been hesitancy, a sense of fear that made it all so much more intense. But was he actually attracted to Neville? His first reaction was no, they'd taken almost all the same classes and shared a dormitory for the past six years and he'd never even entertained the notion. But something at the back of his mind didn't believe him. Had it not been Neville's remembrall for which he'd risked expulsion in first year? Had it not been Neville whom Harry had been so keen to help improve when the DA had formed? Unable to find an answer, Harry decided that it would do him no good to dwell on it tonight, and settled down for a few hours sleep before the impending herbology test.

The morning broke crisp and cool. A thick fog hung in the air, and a slight chill seeped into the great hall through the ancient windows. Harry was late down for breakfast the next morning. Neville might not have noticed him at all if he hadn't sat down opposite him. He watched dumbly as Harry, who hadn't yet seen him, began to pile his plate with bacon and eggs.

"I… err… need to talk to Luna about… homework," he mumbled, standing up. He then walked briskly to the Ravenclaw table, keeping his head down so as not to meet Harry's gaze. When he reached his destination, he tapped Luna on the shoulder and waited while she finished her mouthful of hash brown.

"Yes Neville?" inquired Luna, brushing her hair out of her silver eyes and blinking at him.

"Err… Luna, can we talk? Not here. Later. Lunch?" fumbled Neville

"Of course," she beamed at him

"I've got herbology fourth period. Meet you outside greenhouse 4 after that?"

"I look forward to it."

The morning passed surprisingly quickly. The herbology test had not been nearly as difficult as Neville had been dreading, and he had made a point of sitting in front of Harry, so he didn't have to look at him. It wasn't that he was particularly ashamed of what he had done. In fact, he was quite proud of himself for having had the courage to take such a massive risk. He simply felt that he wanted to approach the conversation he was going to have with Harry later that evening, with absolutely no preconceptions as to what the other boy might say. He wanted to be able to let his emotions flow freely.

As planned, Luna met Neville outside the greenhouse and they walked together until they reached the towering beach tree on the banks of the black lake. Here they sat down, and Luna waited expectantly for him to begin.

"It's about… Harry," said Neville tentatively. Luna nodded encouragingly and he continued. "You know I've liked him for a while now, and last night, we were alone in the common room, studying. It got really late and he fell asleep and his head fell onto my shoulder and I… I… I kissed him. And now I don't know what to do. He said we'd talk about it today, but I'm really scared. He's been such a good friend for as long as I've known him and I don't want to lose him because of my feelings, but I feel like I need to tell him just how much he means to me or I might explode from holding it all in!"

"I don't see why you need my advice Neville," ventured Luna after a beat. "You already know what you need to do."

"Do I?" asked Neville, unsure that his emotional outburst could be called advice.

"You need to tell him just how much he means to you, and if he can't handle that, then maybe he's not really your friend after all."

"Yeah," breathed Neville, realisation dawning, "you're right. Thanks Luna!" He picked up his satchel and walked away with renewed vigor in his steps.

By the time Neville reached the castle, the fog was beginning to lift and he paused for a moment, glancing back to where Luna sat beneath the beach tree, swatting vaguely at something in the air above her head, probably nargles. He smiled. As odd as she was sometimes, Luna had become a great friend of Neville's since he'd met her last year and he strongly suspected that, had been even remotely attracted to women, he might well have fallen for her instead of Harry. Neville turned on his heel and strode into the entrance hall feeling far more confident than he had only a few hours ago.

Harry watched Neville disappear into the castle from the window of the owlery, where he'd been visiting Hedwig. He jumped when he realised he'd been staring. Something about the way the sun caught Neville's golden blond hair had made him unable to tear his eyes away. Mentally, Harry slapped himself on the wrist. He might be slightly confused, but he was not a hopeless romantic. He did not listlessly watch someone strolling across the grounds or stare at the back of their head during a herbology test, no matter how gorgeously silky and thick their hair looked.

"Ugh, what is wrong with me today?" Harry turned around and slumped onto the window ledge. He'd been strangely disappointed when Neville had fled the great hall that morning and he'd been so distracted that he'd nearly taken Ron's eye out while trying to transfigure a mouse into a fire poker during first period. Somehow, he couldn't shake the events of the previous night from his head. He wasn't scared. No, that wasn't the right word. He just knew that everything rested on his next move. Only he didn't know what his next move would be. Nothing for it then. Geronimo.

That night, the common room cleared quickly. Everyone was tired and no one had anything particularly interesting to say, so it was silently decided that bed was probably the most desirable option. Neville and Harry were left alone.

"So…" said Neville as he joined Harry on the sofa. The same sofa as last night he realised with a slight shiver.

"So…" Harry repeated. "Are you…?"

"Yeah"

"Right… Does anyone else know?"

"Just you and Luna… Look, I'm sorry ok. I just… I've wanted to for so long and then, there you were, and I just couldn't stop myself, I…" Neville looked at Harry and his words trailed off. Those eyes. Those beautiful emerald eyes. His mother's eyes. They were unreadable. It was as if there was a coiled snake before him, and he couldn't yet tell if it was a cobra or a harmless corn snake. There was fire and ice and lightning in them all at once. And then they were gone. In less than a heartbeat, Harry closed the gap between them and collided their lips. Instinctively, Neville threw up a hand, but it fell to the back of Harry's head as shock became realisation, became joy. Neville felt Harry run his tongue along his bottom lip, seeking entrance, but he did not grant it. Not yet. And then Harry was on top of him, chest to chest, mouth to mouth, one hand finding purchase in Neville's golden hair and drawing him closer, the other sliding under his shirt and across his chest. But then Harry's hand was between his legs, and it felt so good, but it was too much, too soon, too fast. Neville sat up abruptly, breaking the kiss. Harry looked almost hurt.

"Harry I… I like you, I really do, but… it's too much. What about Ginny?"

"Forget Ginny," breathed Harry, as he leaned in for another kiss. But Neville put his hand on Harry's chest to stop him.

"Harry. No. I want this, but Ginny's my friend too. I won't go behind her back like this."

For a moment, there was silence. The weight of Neville's words hung in the air like a dark cloud.

"…You're right. I'm sorry." Harry let out a long sigh and twined his fingers with Neville's. Neville's breath hitched a little at the contact, but he didn't pull away. "Can I at least get a kiss goodnight?"

"Go on then," chuckled Neville, giving Harry a gentle peck on the cheek. He was suddenly struck by a sense of deep content. How many times had he dreamed of doing that? How many times had he wanted nothing more than to feel Harry's hand in his own and let everything else fall away? It must have shown, because Harry smiled at him.

"What?"

"Nothing, it's just… is this really happening Harry?"

Harry brought his free hand up to cup Neville's cheek.

"Yes, yes it is"