A/N: It's another one of those 'random ships' fics. Thank you, abbieJAYNE, for the ship.
THIS STORY IS SET DURING OotP
Summary: You could've been so much more, Longbottom.
.-xXXx-.
Neville moaned, letting his head hit the desk with a clunk. A few shamrocks drifted to the ground, disturbed by Neville's display of frustration.
"And so," Snape sneered, "this makes the potion particularly difficult. As Mr. Longbottom knows, the Felix Felicis potion requires an inordinate amount of concentration. Your measurements must be precise, and mistakes will not-" here his eyes flickered over Neville's slumped form, "-be tolerated."
Next to Neville, Hermione smiled and pulled her massive textbook out of her bag. Neville reluctantly straightened up and cast a nervous glance around the room. Malfoy's mocking grey eyes were staring straight at him. Neville gulped and turned to the front. Malfoy continued to stare.
.-xXXx-.
"Hey, Neville?" Hermione's voice broke through the comfortable bubbling noise that the boiling cauldrons made. "We're out of peppermint oil. Could you get more?"
Neville raised his head from the desk and watched as Hermione tossed a handful of shamrocks into the cauldron; the liquid within shone a neon pink. Behind her, Snape sneered and walked away.
"Right," Neville said, a little dazed by the light emanating from the cauldron. He got up, clutching a ladle, and then crossed the dungeon to the store cupboard.
He entered the darkness of the cupboard, grateful for the dim that settled around him. He leaned on a shelf, pretending to look for peppermint oil, but actually absorbed in his own thoughts.
"Longbottom," said a voice coolly from behind him.
Neville swung around, brandishing the ladle. "M-Malfoy," he stammered.
Malfoy arched an eyebrow. "The peppermint oil is right in front of you."
Neville lowered the ladle and reached out a shaking hand to take the bottle. Malfoy continued to stare at him.
"You could've been great," Malfoy said quietly. "You could've been someone, instead of one of Harry Potter's miscellaneous friends."
"I told you, Malfoy," Neville replied, braver now that he wasn't looking at Malfoy. "No."
"I didn't think you'd changed your mind."
"How could you think I'd want to?" Neville's fingers tightened around the handle of the ladle. His hands were shaking so much he was afraid he would drop the bottle of oil. He slowly turned to face Malfoy, awaiting a biting comeback.
Malfoy just looked at him, a touch of pity mingling with the dislike in his eyes.
"You could've been so much more, Longbottom. It's such a pity you're willing to settle for second best."
"I'd be settling for second best if I became friends with you!" Neville spat, his knuckles whitening on the ladle. Malfoy stepped back into the shadows, shaking his head.
"I wouldn't know what second best is," said his voice from the darkness, "As I've never had it myself."
"So why are you here?" Neville replied, scared that Malfoy wouldn't answer, but at the same moment, scared that he would.
"Because you're not second best, Neville," Malfoy said. "You know why I'm here."
"Neville," Neville repeated. His name sounded so awkward on Malfoy's lips.
"My name is Draco," Malfoy said, and Neville could hear the smirk in his voice.
"Draco," Neville said quietly.
"Neville," Malfoy replied, just as quietly.
"Malfoy."
"Longbottom."
The finest brush of velvet skin – that was Malfoy's hand on his wrist.
Neville actually did drop the bottle of oil in alarm.
"You could be so much more" – that was Malfoy's voice in his ear.
"What if I don't want it?" Neville said, trying to keep his voice steady. He could feel the wood of the ladle's handle digging into his palm and he gripped it tighter, as if it was the only thing anchoring him to reality.
"We both know that you do," Malfoy hissed.
And then Neville felt himself being roughly shoved into one of the shelves. He felt the shelf at his back teeter dangerously, and a bottle of something toppled and shattered at his feet.
But Malfoy's face was looming right in front of him, and Neville was suddenly being kissed dangerously hard. His eyes widened in shock as Malfoy's hands dug into his back and tugged at his hair.
He didn't want this – he didn't want Malfoy – he couldn't scream – he was helpless.
White teeth bit at his bottom lip as Neville struggled. Malfoy held on to his shoulders like a drowning man clutching at straws.
"I – don't – want – no!" Neville gasped, pushing Malfoy away. Malfoy stumbled backwards into a shelf.
Panting, Neville wiped the blood from his bleeding lip as Malfoy straightened up. He froze as steely grey eyes fixed upon him.
"You could've been so much more," Malfoy hissed.
He took care to slam the door shut behind him as he left.
The ladle fell to the floor with a clatter as Neville stood in the darkness, alone but for his own thudding heart.