Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.
Written for auction prompt - "Nope. We don't have time for you to have a crisis today."
Word Count - 279
Worth Every Galleon
Neville stared at Harry for a moment before he shook his head.
"Nope. We don't have time for you to have a crisis today. Get your shit together, Potter,"
Harry blinked. "Mate, I don't want to do this. I don't… I wasn't made for public… things. This is not me."
"Well, since you're due on stage in… three and a half minutes, I'm going to go ahead and say this is you."
Harry shook his head. "No. This is Hermione. And Ginny. And Luna. And all the other women in my life that think auctioning me off at a gay auction is a good idea. And then they ask me why I'm bloody gay!"
Neville snorted, pulling Harry to his feet. "Look. Mate. You can do this. Go out there, be your usual bashful charming self, and the money will fly in. Think about all the good it will do for the hospital."
Harry nodded once, swallowing hard. "Right. The hospital. Right. I mean… I could just make a donation to the fund and then it'd be the same as -"
"Harry. Go. Do the thing. You'll be great."
"What if a psycho buys me though?"
"You'll be fine," Neville reiterated. "Go."
"Right. Fine. Right."
…
Neville raised his glass to Harry as the two of them say across from each other at the intimate dinner after the auction.
"You could've told me you were going to bid on me," Harry grumbled, though he clinked his glass to Nevilles. "How much did you wind up paying for my glorious company? I think I blanked out on the entire experience."
Neville just grinned. "Never you mind. You're worth every Galleon."
