Disclaimer: I own nothing. Neville, harry, Hermione, Ron, and all other Hogwarts characters, places, items, concepts, etc., etc. etc. are the property of the wonderful J,. K. Rowling. No infringement is intended.
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Author's Note: this story takes place in our heroes' fifth year. I am, however, using the images of Neville from the fourth film, as portrayed by Matthew Lewis, as I think the long hair looks cuter.
Harry walked down the Hogwarts corridor between Hermione and Ron, headed for breakfast. The morning winter sunlight streamed through the tall arch windows, creating hazy patterns on the stone floor. Their footsteps echoed and mingled with those of the other students as they made their way to the Great Hall.
The trio sat down at the Gryffindor table, towards the far end. Neville was already there, reading a book on Herbology. The lanky, black-haired boy looked up and waved as they sat down. He closed his book and began to eat a bit as the others grabbed food from the wide platters on the table. He picked up one of the large pitchers of juice.
"You want some juice, Harry?", he asked.
"Yeah, thanks, Neville.", Harry mumbled.
Neville poured a goblet full of juice, and handed it to Harry. He had emptied the jug, and so grabbed another one to give to Hermione and Ron. He continued to eat, munching absentmindedly on a piece of bacon.
Harry too began to eat. He filled his plate, and began to talk with his friends about the upcoming Quidditch matches, and the classes they had that day. He noticed the juice tasted a little funny, but thought nothing of it.
As Neville was saying something about Professor Sprout's plans for the Herbology projects, Harry found himself looking at Neville's mouth. His lips, more precisely. Neville had lovely, delicate lips. Oh, God I'd love to kiss him, he thought. Wait, what? What the hell was that? Harry shook himself.
"You alright, mate?", asked Ron, puzzled.
"Yeah, fine.", Harry said, "just feeling a bit queer."
Hermione started to say something about Herbology, and Neville took a drink of his cocoa. As he put it down, a bit of chocolate was left on his lips. I'd love to lick that off for him, Harry thought. He gave a start. What the hell is going on? Why on earth would I want to lick chocolate off of Neville's lips? Then he realized he was licking his lips. Oh my God. I like Cho! Cho! Not Neville! Maybe I'm just delirious. I haven't eaten much. Maybe that's it.
He reached for a piece of bread, at exactly the same time as Neville was removing one from the basket. Their hands brushed. Harry thought he was going to explode. He had to get out of here. Now. He stood up.
"Well, Neville,", he said nervously, "I hate to say it, but I have to love you-, er leave you right now. I have to go find some books for classes later today."
And he dashed off. Hermione looked after the running boy with a look of befuddlement, as she noticed his stack of books laying on the bench where he had just been sitting..
Meanwhile, Harry was running as fast as he could back to the Gryffindor common room. He sped past Fred and George who were concocting some mixture by the fireplace, and threw closed the heavy wooden door of the dormitory behind him. He threw himself down on the bed.
What happened? It wasn't that he had a problem with gay people, it was just that he never thought of himself as gay. He wasn't gay! He liked Cho, for God's sake. He didn't like Neville. Not that way. He had gone all batty over Cho last year, and had been so jealous of Cedric. Now Cho was available and he had been waiting to make a move.
He looked up at the ceiling, and sighed. It was probably just some kind of stress problem. Merlin knew he'd been under a lot of stress lately. Who'd be surprised if his hormones started acting up?
He sat up on the bed, feeling much better. As his eyes wandered around the room, still messy from the boys' morning rush, they hit a pair of Neville's briefs. I wonder what he looks like in those? He mused. Then he blanched. Oh, no! He flopped back on the bed.
Just then, there was a light tapping on the door. It was cautiously pushed open, and Harry raised his eyes to see Neville's shaggy head poke in from outside. Oh, Great.
"Harry?", came the hesitating voice.
"Mmm?", Harry replied miserably.
"Are you alright? You seemed kind of odd at breakfast."
"No, I'm fine.", Harry murmured. Please leave. Please. Please don't come in. Please.
Neville opened the door a bit more, and walked in. He approached Harry.
"You sure? I know you're under a lot of stress and all…"
"Yeah, I told you, I'm fine.", Harry said. Don't sit down, don't sit down!
Neville sat down on the bed next to Harry.
Harry closed his eyes and willed himself not to look at him. If he looked at Neville… No. No, I won't!
"Harry…", Neville's voice began tenderly.
Please don't touch me, don't touch me.
Neville's hand stroked Harry's bare forearm. Harry felt a thrill rush through his body. His eyes forced themselves open, and feasted on Neville. Those beautiful eyes, that shaggy black hair, those sensuous lips…
Harry launched himself onto Neville, tangled his fingers in those curly locks, and attacked those wonderful lips with a mad fervor. After a second, Harry pulled himself and threw himself back onto the bed.
"I'm sorry, Neville. Just go away.", he said weakly.
"Harry…", Neville whispered tenderly. He pulled the other boy up and kissed him passionately.