lightning before thunder

harry/neville.

set in second year.

notes: first upload here. i like this rare ship, wish there was more of it. hope you enjoy it! :)

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The day had been a grey and sombre one; simultaneously pulling every single person in the castle down, their moods just as dark as the rolling clouds in the sky. Harry had found that he'd been dragging himself to each class.

The weight of Colin Creevey and Mrs Norris being petrified caused his shoulders to slump forward. The fact that most of the school was talking behind his back and thinking of him to be the heir of Slytherin resulted in him dragging his feet wherever he walked. The presence of Gilderoy Lockhart didn't help Harry's conscience at all, either.

So, quite frankly, Harry was more than happy to lay beneath his thick and warm duvet at the end of the day and forget it all for one night. He let the chatter between his roommates fade into nothing as he quickly entered a sweet and blissful rest.

Harry awoke to a flash of light, soon followed by a booming bout of thunder. He breathed through his nose, thinking the streak of lighting that had shadowed the dorm to be much like another streak of light he'd seen in his dreams many times before. But he shook that thought from his mind, and instead listened to the rhythmic fall of the rain against the window between his and Neville's bed.

It was much darker now, and after a few minutes, Harry blindingly reached out for his watch that rested somewhere on his bedside table. When he grasped it, he squinted at the two hands, trying to angle the face into the natural light. The clock read 2:36 in the morning, and Harry inwardly sighed, falling back into his bed.

When another wave of lightning struck, Harry knew he wouldn't be getting anymore sleep that night. The boy lay still as thunder sounded in the distance.

He listened to Ron's uneven snores, of the shuffling of sheets from the opposite side of the room, undoubtedly being Seamus. He was a very restless sleeper. Dean was very silent at night in contrast to his best friend. Whilst listening to the sounds, Harry realised there was one thing missing.

He couldn't hear the usual soft snores that came from Neville. Harry glanced over to the other boy's bed, and was surprised to see it empty. Instead, Harry saw that the round blonde sat by the window, face turned towards the glass.

It was certainly unusual to see him out of bed, as Neville was usually the heaviest sleeper of them all in their dorm.

After thinking about it for a moment, Harry decided upon sitting up, slipping his glasses on, and padding over to the low windowsill. He wordlessly sat beside Neville, sparing a glance out the window and then looking back into the side of his head, waiting.

Neville snapped his face towards Harry, eyes wide.

"Oh. Harry."

"Neville…" Harry said, looking down at his fumbling fingers. He'd never been good at comforting others, though it looked like Neville really need it. The boy looked as pale as a ghost, and his eyes were glazed over.

"Er – Are you alright?" Harry whispered after a moment's silence.

"I'm just thinking," Neville said in his soft voice, his blue eyes returning to the storm outside. "Thinking about my parents."

"Oh," Harry said dumbly. In the year and a half they'd known each other, Harry had never once recalled Neville mentioning his parents. Harry knew that the other boy lived with his Gran, but that was all.

"I don't really like thunder storms. They've… always scared me. It's silly." Neville said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"My Gran never really comforted me when storms would pass back at home. I'd like to think that… that, if they could, my parents would hold me – would be there for me when I'd be afraid... that they'd even be okay with me being different. Weaker."

Neville wrapped his arms around himself, his voice wavering as he continued.

"Gran has such high expectations. She – she expects me to be like dad. To… be as brave as him, to be as good as a wizard as him. But I'm not, and I never will be. I-I'm just Neville. Clumsy, f-fat, obsessed with flowers – I… I can't ever be like them. Never will be as – as great as th-them..."

Neville had wilted, tears appearing in his ocean blue eyes, shoulders shuddering with quiet sobs. Harry didn't wait half a second as he pulled Neville into a tight and hopefully reassuring embrace. Harry rubbed circles on the small of the other boy's back, hoping to spread some warmth.

Harry had to admit, he was more than a little shocked at Neville showing such vulnerability. Though it only filled Harry's drive to help Neville to not feel like this.

After a few long moments, Neville's breathing had evened out. But they still didn't let go of each other. Harry felt a new, raw emotion inflate in his chest, making it hard to breathe, as they held each other. Neville didn't deserve to feel like this.

"I, I'm sorry–" Neville stuttered into Harry's shoulder, but Harry hushed him before he could continue.

"You don't need to say sorry. It's not your fault. None of it is. People need to be able to let out their emotions sometimes… there isn't any good in keeping it all to yourself, and then blowing up later." Harry said, leaning back so he could look into Neville's round face. His tender eyes proved that he was surprised, and Harry himself was taken back by his own words.

"I… think you really are something else, Neville. I don't understand why other people can't see that. You're kind. You stop, and think about things. You are brave. You aren't ever afraid to have a shot. You're just… really amazing, and it hurts me to know that you can't see that yourself."

Neville breathed out, looking down into his own lap, looking like he was fighting a new wave of tears. Up this close, Harry could see every single freckle on Neville's nose and cheeks. He could point out every long eye lash that fluttered against his round face. Harry hesitantly raised a thin finger up to the other boy's cheek, catching a tear. Neville looked back up into Harry's eyes.

Harry may not have known the gravity of Neville's situation, but he knew that he wanted to be there for him.

"Sleep with me?" Neville asked softly after a long session of staring into each other's eyes.

"Of course, Nev."

Harry stood, pulling Neville up with him. Sound other than Neville's voice seemed to reach his ears now, as Ron's snores seemed louder than ever, and thunder erupted once again outside.

Harry, hand clasped into Neville's slightly cooler hand, pulled him into his own bed, making room for the other boy as they lay down. Harry drew the curtains around them, and rested beside Neville after doing so.

Maybe it would have been awkward in other circumstances, but right now Harry found Neville's body an anchor to reality. Harry moved closer to the warm body, his heart doing flips in his chest. He could hear Neville's gentle breathing, could feel his pulse through their linked hands.

Maybe he would be getting some sleep that night, Harry thought.

And with that last thing in mind, Harry fell asleep, Neville's hand in his.