!WARNING! if you choose to read on – you will be subjecting yourself to an extreme !silly!fic! and the author will take no responsibility for any damages that may occur.

Disclaimer – I do not, cannot, and shall NEVER own Harry Potter, or any of the characters mentioned in the following story.

Pairings – hey that's a mystery you will just have to find out for yourselves. A slight warning though- there may be some slash but nothing too big, o and yes offcourse there is gonna be loooaaaddss and looooaaddss of mush, slush and sap (what do you expect with a title like that?) as well as some humour (my special brand hope ya like it)

Rating – ERRM this is always the hard part . . .id venture a Pg13 poooosibly an R, but ill warn you if that happens

A/N – my loverly beta (MISS LEXY POGO-stick GIVE HER A CLAP EVERY1) is unfortunately run off her feet with work, so if you want updates, try and ignore the mistakes.

A/N2 – if you read pleaaaasssee review! =) thankee kindly

Thanx 2 – Michelle Palmer, Ivory Tower and Miss Marauder who all reviewed my first chapter. And j.ahots and Miss Marauder once again who both reviewed my second chapter. =D MERRY CHRISTMAS

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

~Cupid Gone Crazy~

The first stirrings came at midnight that night. Like a flower unfolding its petals to greet the morning sun (though really . . . there was no sun. it was midnight. Duh), Neville's large eyes slowly blinked open, his arms stretching wide and his mouth even wider in one of the largest yawns ever known. Now, as we all know, mothers have a six sense when it comes to their children, they *always* know when little children are up and about sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night (much to our dismay) and Madame Pomfry was substitute mother to hundreds of children, her Mysterious Mothering Senses were very well developed. She was at the bedside before Neville could even what he was doing in the hospital wing, cup of tea in hand, fluffing pillows and doing other caring, thoughtful things (awww).

"DEAR! Your awake, fabulous. Now. Time for a bath. We'll have you right as rain again soon. Though we really don't know what's wrong with you . . . ."

Does anyone *really* know the healing properties of a good bubble bath? The scientists are still researching. A whole lot of intense, in person research. Very relaxed research.

Neville was unceremoniously hustled out of bed, into the waiting hot tub (ahh the wonders of modern magic), still stuttering half begun questions –

"What am I doing here?" Neville looked curiously around at the room, lots of white, white everywhere in fact . . .now *that* seemed familiar somehow.

"shhhhhh dear it's aaalright now, your safe." Madame Pomfry fussed around him, making sure the water was hot and saying a nifty little charm that caused mountains of frothy pink bubbles to appear from thin air.

Looking slightly scared Neville amended "Where *is* here????"

Madame Pomfry only chuckled to herself and added a kindly - "Enjoy your bath dear!" - over her shoulder . . . she didn't hear the last confused question . . .

"who am I?

Poor . . . umm . . . who is he again?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He lay still in the luke-warm water, contemplating the amazing revelation that long exposure to warm water caused ones skin to wrinkle like an old prune. Very interesting. (When you can't remember a damn thing, I suppose everything seems Ripley's Believe It Or Not worthy). While starring bemusedly at his now dried-fruitesque fingers, he noticed a strange shimmering glow that seemed to eminate from his damp skin, perhaps a strange side effect of the marvellous bubbles (not very likely). Splashing the few remaining pink bubbles back and forth, he concentrated on the glow and felt a strange feeling building somewhere deep inside himself.

At first it seemed like pleasant warmth, tingling, comforting and oh-so-very-nice.

Then it became slightly uncomfortable, a little too hot, the tingling turning into little pin pricks of feeling.

And then, then! He felt like he was burning up from the inside out, his blood turned to lava, melting everything inside him until he was boiling goo, liquefying his bones and turning his organs to ash. And let me tell you! Liquefied bones is nothing to laugh at, organs of ash is *not* fun!

The pain was phenomenal. Burning, poisoned daggers stabbing every inch of him, it felt like two *things* were trying to rip him apart, trying to pull his spine out through a gaping wound between his shoulder blades. He shuddered and convulsed, his mouth open in a silent scream as the bath water sloshed over the sides to create a small lake on the surrounding stone. With his body curled into the foetal position, his concentration turned inwards, cataloguing the changes, his mind burning with new knowledge, new memories . . . new power.

Half an hour later, Madame Pomfry would return to find herself missing one patient, left with only cold bathwater soaking into the ancient stones, tinted pink with blood (euh), bubbles and . . . dye from a single paper heart?

Poor Neville was no more.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Professor McGonagall stood straight and tall at the head table of the Great Hall, her spectacles fogging with a little unpredicted mist and her hands shaking slightly (unnoticeable to the many students gathered before her). As deputy head of the school, the professor was forced to make the grim announcement because Dumbledore was A.W.O.L. She would miss Longbottom but did he really have to be as insensitive as to die when Dumbledore was unreachable? Anyway. She had work to do.

"Girls and Boys, today it is my sad duty to inform you that the well loved Gryffindor, Neville Longbottom spontaneously combusted today as the result of the unforseen consequences of drinking one of his own potions. He will be greatly missed. Please remain calm, you will be informed of when the memorial service is to take place."

McGonagall fled the hall (in a stately and graceful manner) to the whisperings and mutterings of the girls and boys of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In the face of his interesting death, the old Neville seemed to have disappeared, replaced by some perfect, wonderful student . . . with the same name (ahhh alien clones).

"He was the best of us . . ."

And all the many mistakes of 17 years of bumbling buffoonery swept under the rug in one magnanimous sweep. (Should Neville have been pleased or outraged? 17 years is a lot of work.)

"So very brave . . ."

No one even dared to mention the Great Pudding Incident of 2004 (*shudders*) of which we shall never speak of again!

"What shall we do without him? . . ."

For . . . what exactly . . .

And all the while they were fondly reminiscing, no one notice the pair or sparkling blue eyes watching mischievously from the rafters, no one noticed as a single white feather drifted slowly from the heavens (AKA the roof of the great hall).

Poor Neville was no more . . . . .

But something was waiting in the shadows.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

TBC . . .

ok that was a little scary, I think I had a flash back to The Fly (has anyone seen that movie? Gah!)

ne way – no more scaryness . . .plenty of delightfully mushy chapters to come though featuring Neville gone mad and many mysterious pairings.

Stay tuned for the next exiting instalment of . . . Cupid Gone Crazy