Nighttime Tendencies
~FawkesRises
Disclaimer: Don't own em so don't sue me.
Warning: This is *cough*SLASH*cough*--though if you've read the rest of my fics you already know that so this is kind of pointless. However, there is a small mention of Neville/Ginny, so all my delicate slashers out there-be warned *grin* (This is my first attempt at some actual almost sexual 'thing' so be patient and if you feel inclined, give me some pointers)
AN: Okay…so today's my birthday -YAY!!!- and what do I want for my birthday? you might ask…how about a fluffy romp with frotteur-istic (I'm not sure that's an actual word) Harry/Sev and a side of voyeuristic Neville! Ahhh! Bask in the glow of m/m love! (Takes place in 7th year) Plus I just saw the trailor for PoA and…whew! Harry looked hot, as always. Sev was delish (even in a dress *haha*). And Siri, my Siri - I love Gary Oldman! Anyway, enough rambling…on with the fic!!!...Wait! Before we start, repeat after me *holds up right hand* 'I am a firm believer in some frottage action.' Okay, now we can start.
To the Tune of: "Fortune Faded" ~Red Hot Chilli Peppers
***
No one could really accuse Neville of being nosy – he mostly minded his own business and stayed out of the way. Things generally worked out better for everyone that way. On the odd times Neville's curiosity got the better of him, there were usually trips to the Hospital Wing involved (how could anyone forget that whole mess with his broom first year?).
So, all things considered, Neville really shouldn't be awake right now. He shouldn't be watching Harry Potter sneak out of the 7th year boys' dormitory. And he definitely shouldn't be getting up to follow him -
But he was.
Because, sure he could screw up a potion like nobody else, and sure he could botch every spell known to wizard kind - but that didn't mean Neville was stupid. He had gone to the same school as Harry for seven years, so he very well couldn't not know when something was up with everyone's favorite Golden Boy.
And lately, something was definitely going on…
Which of course was why Neville was hiding behind a statue of some oddball wizard that he could never remember the name of, a statue that marked the detour into the dungeons…
It hadn't been easy getting there either. Oh no, nothing easy for Neville. He'd almost gotten caught twice – once by Mrs. Norris and once by Harry himself. It wasn't like he had meant to stumble into the suit of armor or trip over the hem of his own robes – it wasn't as if he had loads lots of experience in the 'sneaking out of the dorm at two in the morning' department.
Though apparently Harry did.
Not that Neville was surprised of course. Harry was always doing something or other very exciting. Or dangerous.
None of this of course had anything to do with the fact he'd suddenly found it rather hard to breathe.
No…the thing was…he'd seen Professor Snape. And Snape – the one person who could still, even though Neville wasn't in his Advanced Potions class, terrify him with a mere look - had just. kissed. Harry.
Was still doing it in fact – Neville looked on with wide eyes, wondering how in Merlyn's name the two of them could breathe…
It wasn't that he was clueless when it came to romance. He'd gotten his very first kiss back in fourth year, from Ginny Weasley. Since then the two of them had grown rather close; in fact they were sort of, well,…dating. So it wasn't as if Neville was totally naïve – it's just he never dreamed he'd see Harry getting felt up in a corridor - by Snape or anyone else for that matter.
Because that's exactly what Snape was doing - his hands had disappeared under the hem of Harry's t-shirt, exposing a quantity of cream skin. Harry's voice was low and throaty, "Sev…"
Neville blushed from his hiding place. He knew good and well he shouldn't be watching – it was distinctly 'peeping tom'-ish. And ooh if his Gran could see him now…she would certainly box his ears.
But he found he couldn't stop looking - it was a bit like the morbid fascination that takes over when you watch a spider catch a butterfly. Now if he could decide who was the spider…
Though Neville now knew something that no other Gryffindor did.
Harry had never openly admitted he was gay, though everyone seemed to know that he was. No one however could figure out who, if anyone, Harry was seeing.
And now Neville understood why he'd never heard Harry brag about his 'weekend conquests' like the other seventh year boys did. It was highly doubtful the boy was going to start either – not with a lover that was twenty odd years older and who happened to be his Potions professor.
There was a shove and a thud as Harry's head hit the wall of the corridor.
Neville felt his mouth go dry as Snape ground against Harry, pushing him hard against the stone behind him. He heard the little gasp of breath that escaped – that little gasp practically screamed the fact that the older man had just taken their relationship farther than it had been before.
Neville blinked.
Snape continued driving himself against Harry and he winced from the safety of his hiding place. Harry was going to have some bruises in the morning…
Though 'the pride of Gryffindor' seemed to be enjoying himself right now if the soft moans were any indication. Harry's hands were clutched around the Potion Master's neck, his face buried in the older man's hair.
Snape on the other hand…Neville could swear the man was purring.
Neville licked dry lips, this was…this was…he didn't know what this was. It wasn't sex, not yet. And it might not turn into that tonight. But tomorrow…or the day after-
He would just have to keep a closer eye on his roommate.