As soon as Neville gets there, Draco's on him. He's been practically shaking with the wait, fingers clenched tight in his pockets and feet shifting nervously. Neville carries the set of keys that comes with being the top Herbology student—he often stops by to 'check on the plants.' Professor Sprout trusts him too much. Draco trusts him too much. Draco trusts Neville with everything he is, and the more he feels that way, the more it bothers him—the more this ephemeral, fleeting thing seems too important for him to hold onto.

Neville kisses him desperately the second they're together, pressing him back into the glass wall. They're buried away in the corner, tucked behind the foliage again. Draco's fingers fly to clutch at Neville's shoulders, pulling him in, just as needy. Neville backs into him, crushing them together. Neville's mouth is warm and soft against his, lips slightly chapped and tongue too skilled. It slips between his lips with ease; Draco moans and lets it in. It explores his mouth and slides along the roof, along the curve of his tongue, down the jagged line of his teeth. Everything's warm and Neville tastes vaguely like coffee. Neville kisses like a dream. He thumbs Draco's cheek with one hand, garden-calloused fingers brushing through Draco's platinum hair. Neville's other hand traces down Draco's hip, pulling him in and holding him close. Before Draco can stop himself, their hips are rubbing together—Neville groans fiercely into his mouth, rutting harder. Neville grinds Draco into the sturdy glass, and it's cold against the back of his skull. Neville kisses him over and over, mouths working and tongues dancing, and there's a glow in Draco's stomach that runs all the way up to his brain, making him light headed. One of Draco's hands trails down Neville's back, dipping to grab and squeeze his ass. Draco doesn't know which of their moans is louder. It's nothing short of wonderful, and he tugs at Neville's robes, wanting to drag him straight down to the ground. They can't fuck against the glass—it quivers too much, and despite the spells, Draco's always terrified he'll break it.

When Draco tugs them down, Neville follows, and Draco's back slips along the wall while his knees slip to either side of Neville. When he's sitting on his ass in the dirt, he looks up at Neville with a fire in his eyes. He's prissy. He doesn't usually like to fuck in the dirt—that's disgusting. He deserves good sheets and grand beds. ...But they can't have that, and the greenhouses are Neville's play yard, and Draco's fallen so far that he actually wants to be a part of that. Neville's hand hasn't left Draco's face. He strokes Draco's cheek gently as he leans his forehead against Draco's. Then he murmurs softly, "I'm so sorry."

Draco frowns. Neville was already frowning, and that doesn't make sense. Draco doesn't know what he's sorry for and doesn't really want to. Everything's too perfect when they're together—when it's just them. The only flaw is that it might not always be that way, and if that's what Neville's saying, Draco... Draco doesn't...

He scrunches his eyes closed. Neville mutters, "...I... I've been so distracted with school, lately. I'm sorry. I'm just not good at anything, and if I don't try really hard, I'd never even manage an 'A' on things, let alone an 'E.' But... but that's no reason to neglect you. I'm sorry."

Draco's eyes stay closed. But not as tight. He didn't at all think that was the apology he was getting. It takes some effort to be his usual self. Despite everything he feels, he finds himself sneering defensively out of habit and pride, "You're not neglecting me; I don't need you." ...Because he's a Malfoy, and that's just what that is...

Neville whispers, "I know. But I need you, and I don't want to lose you." He shifts to cup Draco's face, leaning in for a short, chaste kiss. Draco hesitates, fingers twitching at his sides.

Then he lunges forward, arms wrapping tightly around Neville, and he doesn't want to say anything or to cry, so he hooks his chin over Neville's shoulders. Neville holds him just as fiercely, rubbing his back and mumbling again, "I'm sorry. I know it's been bothering you, even if you won't say it. I do... I do really want to be with you, Draco. And to be honest, I don't care who knows or who sees. ...It's sweet of you to try and protect my future career like that, but it's hardly necessary... I just... I just want to be with you, okay?"

When he pulls away, his hands stay around Draco, enclosed and warm. Draco nods into them, drawling before he can stop himself, "Are... what are we...?"

"Boyfriends," Neville says, without hesitation. Then he adds, with a bit of an adorable blush, "Er, that is... if you want to be. I mean, we could just be friends with benefits, but... I... I know we don't talk about this much, but... I'd like to think we're more. And I want us to be serious."

Draco sniffs while he nods. He tries to school his features into their usual indifference—tries to make it look like he doesn't care. Like this doesn't affect him so torrentially much as it does. He takes a deep breath and agrees, "We're boyfriends."

Neville grins. Before Draco can blurt out anything more, Neville steals his next thoughts. Neville mumbles calmly, leaning in to peck Draco's cheek, "I'm serious. I want this to work out, and when we graduate, and it isn't so easy to see each other, and I'm hopefully an Auror and you... I don't know, but... but I want us to find a way to make this work. I know we can."

"Even if I can't be anything?" Draco mutters. "Even if no one will hire a man with the Dark Mark, and being with me will hold you back? We might grow apart. I'll probably still live with my parents, and you'll move out and succeed, and they'll lecture me about settling down with a pureblood witch..."

"And I'll hold you back?" Neville asks, lips quirking. Draco rolls his eyes. Neville sighs and reaches down to hold Draco's hands, warm and steady between them. Before he can say anything, Draco lunges in again for a quick kiss, unable to miss the opportunity. Neville leisurely kisses him back, before saying quietly, "Look, it doesn't matter. We'll find a way. I do want to be with you. And the world sucks and it's in the way, but I know we can make this work. ...If... if you want to..."

"Of course I want to." He closes his mouth quickly, trying to stop the tirade that wants to come out. There's so much in him, and so much he want so say, so much he wants to ask. It doesn't work like that, and everything's so complicated. But Neville makes it seem simple and better, like Neville makes everything seem better. Neville squeezes his hands lightly. Draco closes his eyes. He breathes out longer than he means to, trying to come up with how to express what he feels.

When he can't figure out a Slytherin or Malfoy enough way to say it, he just grumbles, "I love you," and slumps forward into Neville's arms.

Neville catches him, all strength and security. Neville's arms wrap around him like a blanket, draping him in warmth. Neville murmurs, voice deep and sincere, "I love you, too." And he kisses Draco's forehead.

Draco shifts to kiss Neville's ear. Then cheek. Then the corner of his lips, then right on the mouth, until he's knocking Neville backwards into the dirt with the force, climbing atop him and staying attached. He says, "It'll be okay," and, "we'll make it work," in that foolish, naïve, Gryffindor way of his.

And somehow, Draco begins to believe every word.