DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author Notes: This story contains both SLASH and blatant drug use. If these themes offend you, please do not read this story!
The characters in this story may seem a little out of character, but give it a chance. Consider this story a "coming of age" tale about the characters developing into adults. I anticipate many flames telling me off for my OOC-ness. So be it.
This story is COMPLETE. I will post new chapters weekly.
Chapter Two: Shades of Grey
What makes me think I could start clean slated
The hardest to learn was the least complicated
So what makes me think I could start clean slated
The hardest to learn was the least complicated
-- Least Complicated by Indigo Girls
.
No one could remember exactly when Neville had returned to the Tower. Everyone had already retired, exhausted by the hours of dancing and excitement of the Ball. In fact, it had come as quite a shock to both Harry and Ron to see Neville in Gryffindor Tower at all.
He was clad in his trousers from the previous night's escapades, but no shoes and no shirt. His dress robes and wand were nowhere to be found, which triggered an instant wave of concern. The quartet was mortified to think that Neville's wand could be in the possession of one silver haired git extraordinaire, and so Hermione was dispatched to the prefect's washroom in hopes of finding the missing items.
Ginny sat by Neville's bed with a pitcher of water and a glass. She had been fairly surprised at breakfast that morning when a sleek eagle owl had swooped down in front of her and stuck out its leg for her to retrieve a rolled piece of parchment, sealed in green wax.
Make sure he drinks plenty of water. Remember: water before sleep. -- DMalfoy
Ginny had scanned the Great Hall only to discover that Draco was nowhere in sight. He must be sleeping it off as well. Taking one last bite of her toast, Ginny had stood, told her friends she would see them in the Tower later and before questions could be asked, fled from the room.
Now the petite Gryffindor leaned over and shook her best friend gently, calling his name. He groaned and rolled away from her. But Ginny was not a girl to give up so easily. She rounded the bed and tried again, only this time neither her shake nor her voice was gentle.
Neville's eyes slit open gingerly. "Gin?"
"Sit up," Ginny told him in her best Mrs. Weasley's I Mean It Now, Mister! voice. "Drink this."
Neville, recognized a voice of authority despite his grogginess and pushed himself up, his head spinning with exhaustion. Only when the cool water touched his lips did he realize how incredibly thirsty he was. He gulped greedily at the water, a small amount splashing onto his chest as he did so.
"Neville," Ginny began when he handed the empty glass back to her. "I was so worried about you last night."
"What for?" Neville fell back onto the bed, motioning for Ginny to lie down beside him. She set the glass down on the nightstand and crawled into the bed as she had done perhaps two hundred times before. "I'm just a bit knackered."
"Knackered?" Ginny settled her head on Neville's shoulder and regarded him closely. "Nev, don't you remember last night?"
"Last night?" Neville's dark eyebrows knitted together in momentary confusion. "What happened las—"
Neville cut off abruptly, his eyes growing wider as the night's events seeped into his memory. The Ecstasy. The dancing. The tub. The fight with Hermione and Ron. And with great stinging slap of clarity: Malfoy.
"Oh, cows," Neville yelped, covering his face with his hands. "I mean, oh, cows!"
"Only you, Nev," Ginny giggled helplessly. "Could make 'cows' sound naughty."
"Am I remembering correctly?"
"Well, if you are remembering a sex romp with that ferret Malfoy on the floor of the prefect's bathroom, then yes, I would say that you are."
"The bath tub."
"What?"
"It was in the tub," Neville revealed in a horrified whisper. "Not the floor."
"Oh," Ginny breathed. "Cows."
Neville laughed. "Too much information?"
"Far from it, actually," Ginny draped her arm around Neville's waist. "Not enough information!"
"Ginny!" Neville sounded scandalised.
"Well, as you pointed out to Harry and everyone else last night," Ginny laughed good-naturedly. "I do fancy a good shag from him. And as I have no intentions of doing it myself, I intend to live vicariously through you."
"Oh, no!" the despairing Gryffindor wailed. "I did say that, didn't I?"
"It's okay," Ginny reassured him with a pat. "I was able to convince Harry that you were obviously delusional."
"Gee, thanks."
"I mean, really," Ginny continued airily. "Who would want that horribly pale and perfect body pressed against theirs while that deviously delectable pink mouth of his did absolutely revolting and riveting things to you?"
Neville grinned. "No one I can think of."
"But to bring us back to the issue at hand," Ginny's voice turned soft and serious. "Why did you do it, Neville?"
Neville closed his eyes. He was ashamed of his actions. He had never so blatantly disregarded the rules of Hogwarts and society before. He had yelled at Hermione for goodness sake! He had had sex with Malfoy!
A surge of giddiness attacked him. He never knew he had it in him! Despite his shame, he had an overwhelming feeling of pride.
"Gin," Neville sighed, stamping out his giddiness. "It was just a one time thing. I just needed to prove to myself that I could do something."
"So, it was just once, then?"
"Yes, absolutely," Neville turned and kissed his friend's forehead reassuringly. "I swear it."
Draco sat at his desk, dividing colorful tablets and slipping them into individual tiny leather pouches.
Six Green Goblins for the Patils. Three Nimbus XXXs for Terry Boot. Five Illuminatas for Professor Trelawny. Two Dark Avengers for Pansy. Ten Dirty Bludgers for Hannah Abbott--
Draco's brow furrowed in concentration. Ten tablets were more than Hannah normally ordered from him. He consulted his notebook and seeing that ten was the number she had requested, smirked. Must be a wild party planned up in Hufflepuff this weekend.
After all of the pouches were tied shut with thin leather thongs, Draco dropped them into the deep pocket of his robes. He intended to deliver them after lunch. His mundane task complete, Draco lounged back in his desk chair and turned his thoughts to Neville Longbottom.
It had been nearly a full week since the Yule Ball. He had been observing Neville from afar, to see if he smoothed things over with his housemates. He was almost disappointed to see that Neville was keeping to himself more than usual. The Quartet certainly did not seem in a hurry to let him back into their fold. Only Ginny Weasley had any voluntary contact with the poor boy.
Draco had noticed something that interested him much more than the Gryffindors' self-righteous silent treatment. It was the way that Neville entered the room. It was different. It had taken him a while to pinpoint the difference, but when he did, he was, once again, shocked.
Neville no longer cowered when he walked. His eyes were no longer downcast as he entered the Great Hall. His head was hardly held high, but he was definitely more composed. Almost… confident.
Now why do you suppose that is?
Draco knew, of course, that Neville was still a bunny operating in a world full of wolves, but he saw a definite potential. A potential for what, Draco did not yet know.
And so he thought.
Neville leaned his head against his fist and stirred the potion before him almost nonchalantly. He was bored. He hated potions more than just about anything in the world—excepting of course, the Potions Professor. Neville's gaze flitted up from the cauldron before him to Snape, who was leaning over the table in front of him. The hideous creature appeared to be dressing down Harry and Ron for some mistake or another. Neville could not stop his eyes from rolling.
The sound of ruffling of fabric drew Neville out of his bored reverie. He sat up and turned to face the formerly empty stool beside him to see… "Malfoy?"
"Mr. Malfoy," Snape's cold voice echoed through the silent room. The students collectively jumped and turned to seek out Draco in the room. "What are you doing?"
"I forgot my book, Professor," Draco explained innocently. "I'm going to share with Longbottom."
"Why don't you share with—"
"All of the other tables are full, sir," Draco told him without missing a beat. "I'm fine here."
"Well," Snape waved a judicious hand. "See that he does not melt the cauldron, then."
After Snape turned away, Draco shot Neville a smile in greeting.
"What are you doing?" Neville demanded in a low whisper, pushing the potions textbook closer to the Slytherin. "I mean, really, why are you sitting here?"
Draco shrugged off the question and peered at the grey liquid simmering in the cauldron. "Isn't this supposed to be green?"
"Yeah, probably," Neville did not look back at the cauldron, nor did he look concerned by the mistake. "But I've always preferred grey."
"Do you really?" Draco looked at Neville in curiosity. What an odd thing to say.
"Yes," Neville held Draco's gaze unflinchingly. "Green is so obvious. It is easy to like green."
"But grey is mundane," Draco countered, wondering if they were actually talking about shades of the rainbow. "Isn't it?"
"No," Neville shook his head empathetically. "It just takes a more refined eye to really see and appreciate grey."
"And you are refined?"
"Well, obviously," Neville's mouth quirked into a small smile. "At least my eye is."
Draco found himself smiling back. How utterly charming.
Neville focused on the other boy's grey eyes and wondered if Draco knew that he was not just talking about colors of a spectrum. He was willing to wager that Draco knew everything.
Draco raised an eyebrow questioningly at Neville. He was just beginning to consider the implication of the obvious allegorical comparison of himself to Harry Potter when Snape swooped down upon the pair.
"Messieurs Malfoy and Longbottom!" Professor Snape barked from immediately in front of their table. "I do hope that you are trying to divine the instructions for this potion from each other's retinas, for I can think of no other reason for you to be staring at each other."
A wave of muffled laughter swept over the room.
"No Professor," Draco slid his eyes from Neville's to Snape's slowly. "We were having a dispute about the intended color of this potion."
"Is that so?" Snape looked into the cauldron, his face twisting into obvious disgust at the murky liquid inside. "And what color should it be, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Grey," Draco's clear, unaffected voice rang throughout the classroom.
Neville's eyes snapped to the professor's face in time to see his mouth open and close several times in quick succession. Just as a hysterical laugh bubbled up in his chest, Neville felt Draco's knee nudge him firmly, as if trying to deliver some cue.
"Sir--" Neville's cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of pink as he realized that he had actually spoken out loud. He frantically prayed that he had understood Draco's nudge.
"Yes, Mr. Longbottom?" Snape, despite himself, looked intrigued at his student's outcry. He could not remember one time in seven years that Longbottom had actually voluntarily spoken in the dungeon.
"I tried to tell Malfoy, sir," Neville lifted his chin slightly, if not defiantly. "That the potion ought to be green, sir."
Draco's knee bumped Neville's in a motion that reminded Neville of a pat of approval.
Snape's coal black eyes narrowed suspiciously. There was too much wrong with the situation for it to be taken at face value. Yes, Malfoy was scowling in outrage at the Gryffindor who had just bested him, but the boy still had his leg firmly pressed against Longbottom's. And Neville was looking at his teacher with absolute conviction. No, something foul was definitely afoot.
"Five points from—" Snape paused. He should take points from Malfoy for his stupidity. Just as he should award points to Longbottom for actually getting an answer correct. Of course, he would do neither. "Get back to work."
Professor Snape moved to the next table, but kept a subtle eye on the unlikely pair. Just as his suspicion of foul play was abating, he saw Malfoy wink and prop his foot up on the lower rung of Neville's stool. When Neville flashed Draco a dazzling smile in return, Snape's lips curled away from his teeth in anger.
"That does it," the potions master slammed the palms of his hands against the table before him, making its occupants jump in terror. "Malfoy. Longbottom. Detention. Tonight."
Every pair of eyes turned to see what horrible offense Snape's favourite student had committed. They were very shocked indeed to find that Hogwarts' Most Horrible was… doing nothing at all.
Neville's mouth was open as if he intended to speak out against the detention, but to the amazement of both teacher and students, Draco placed a quelling hand on Neville's arm and shook his head fervently. Neville closed his mouth and sat silently as Snape began lecturing them scathingly.
Perfect. Draco slowly pulled his hand off of Neville's arm and tried to look contrite. An hour of detention would give him an almost too convenient and largely uninterrupted forum to talk Neville into seeing things his way. At the table in front of them, Harry was glaring at Draco, as if daring him to make further trouble. In an uncharacteristic outpouring of good humor, Draco blew his enemy a kiss.
"He and Malfoy have detention with Snape tonight," Ron told his sister at dinner later that day. "They got in trouble in class today."
"Detention with Malfoy?" Ginny dropped her fork and turned to grab Harry's robes. "Tonight?"
"Yes," Harry wrenched his robes out Ginny's grasp and narrowed his eyes at his girlfriend's purpling face. "What is your problem?"
"Harry," Ginny's voice was shrill and inpatient. "This is very important—what, exactly, did they do to get detention?"
"I don't know," Harry shrugged. "Ask Hermione."
Ginny wheeled around to face the girl sitting in front of her. "What happened?"
"As far as I could tell," Hermione circled her hand in the air as if trying to find the appropriate word to describe the punishable offense. "Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Yeah," Hermione shook her head. "They were sharing a textbook and then—"
"Sharing?"
Yes, sharing," Hermione shot Ginny an exasperated look. "And then Snape asked them about the color of the potion. Malfoy got it wrong."
"Excuse me?" Ginny's eyes widened in disbelief. It was common knowledge that Draco Malfoy was the best potions student at Hogwarts.
"And Neville got it right," Ron chimed in, his face lighting up at the memory of Draco getting an answer incorrect. "I thought Snape was going to brick it."
Ginny stood up abruptly and ran from the room without further comment.
Harry watched her go before turning back to his dinner. "When do you think she is just going to give up on him?"
"Fortunately for Neville," Hermione wiped her hands and rose from the table. "Never."
You shouldn't kiss me like this
Unless you mean it like that
Cause I'll just close my eyes
And I won't know where I'm at
--You Shouldn't Kiss Me Like This by Toby Keith
.
The innuendo in Snape's snarky comment was hard to miss. Draco smirked at Neville's quick, guilty blush.
After the embittered professor disappeared into his office, Draco took the bucket from Neville and sat it on the nearest table. His eyes raked over Neville's torso, which was clearly visible with the drenched fabric clinging to his skin.
Neville crossed his arms over his chest and watched as Draco dipped a sponge into the bucket, holding it submerged as the water seeped into the porous rag. Draco's eyes had not left Neville's body and a dull thudding started making its way from Neville's head down to his stomach. He felt like an animal on display.
"Malfoy," Neville uncrossed his arms, picked up a sponge and plunged his hand into the water. "What are we doing here?"
"It's detention, Longbottom," Draco told him with a hint of amusement. "And I believe we are to scrub the—"
"I got that part," Neville told him, his head pointed down, watching the soap bubbles float around their submerged hands. "What I meant is why did you do that today?"
"I don't know," Draco shook his wrist under the water, the back of his fingers brushing against Neville's. "Maybe because I didn't want Snape to have at you."
"I can handle Snape," Neville muttered unconvincingly, his hand drifting against Draco's.
"I'm sure you can," Draco's fingers released his sponge and flexed, his pinky hooking onto Neville's thumb. "But maybe I wanted us to get in trouble."
Neville grasped the sponge tightly in his fist.
"Maybe I like you," Draco's head bowed slightly, his platinum fringe falling into his eyes. He felt Neville's fingers tremble beneath his. "Maybe the only way I could find to talk to you alone was to get us both detention."
Neville's breath caught in his throat. He could not fathom that this beautiful boy would have wanted anything from someone like him. "Is that true?"
Instead of answering, Draco leaned over the bucket and brushed his lips against Neville's. It was the barest of touches. Neville's mouth fell open, although he had no words ready. He was certain that if his eyes had not been open, he would have sworn that the kiss had been a product of his overactive imagination.
Draco regarded him for a moment before withdrawing his hand from the bucket and reaching for the speechless boy before him. His soapy hand slid around Neville's neck as he pulled him against his chest, the wetness from Neville's shirt dampening Draco's own. A sigh of resignation escaped Neville's mouth a second before he wrapped his arms around the blond boy and returned the kiss.
The night of the Yule Ball flooded back into Neville's memory. He remembered kissing Draco. It had been wild, violently passionate and oh-so-good. This kiss, this tender and slow kiss with its shared breaths and caressing tongues, made every kiss before it seem like child's play.
Draco shivered from the intensity of the embrace. He felt Neville pouring every bit of emotion—fear, lust, hope—into his mouth. He was overwhelmed and knew that he should stop, knew that he was getting in too deep, but he was powerless to do so.
"Oh no," an unexpected voice wailed from the doorway, making the boys jump apart, the spell of the kiss broken. "Neville, how could you?"
"Gin," Neville shook his head to focus his thoughts, his hand wiping his mouth self-consciously. "What are you doing here?"
"I came when I heard you had detention with him," her blue eyes flashed daggers at Draco. "I was afraid that he would try something."
"Ginny," Neville hurried over to her. "I'm okay, really."
"You promised me," Ginny whispered harshly, her small foot stamping on the dungeon floor in anger. "You never intended to keep your word, did you?"
"I haven't broken my promise," Neville shot a glance over his shoulder at Draco before continuing. "I promised you that I would never take Ecstasy again. And I don't intend to!"
"No!" Ginny shook her head, her long red hair falling over her shoulders. "We were talking about him!"
"I'm still in the room," Draco pointed out sarcastically. "It's rude to—"
Ginny sent him a withering look. "This is all your fault, Malfoy."
"Ouch," Draco drawled sarcastically, approaching her like a lion with its eyes on a prey. "No one has ever said my name so scathingly before."
"I'm going to hex you into next year," Ginny growled, reaching for the wand in her pocket.
"Bring it," Draco shoved his damp sleeves up to his elbows and went for his own wand.
"Ginny," Neville grabbed the small Gryffindor by the shoulders and shook her gently. "Stop."
Ginny's eyes filled with tears as she looked at her friend. She watched in morbid fascination as the soapy water from the back of Neville's neck made its way beneath his shirt collar. His cheeks were pink and his lips were swollen. Quite unintentionally, her eyes darted to Draco who stood just behind Neville. He was in an identical state, down to the path of soapy water on his neck.
"You want him?" Ginny croaked. "And you, Malfoy, want Neville?"
Neville turned his head to look at Draco before responding. Draco's lips turned up slightly and his head inclined regally. Neville grinned broadly and turned back to Ginny. "Yes."
"I—" Ginny pulled her arms free and started backing away, her face drawn and her body tense. "I have to go. I can't—I just have to go."
Neville's heart sank. "Et tu, Ginny?"
"Hey," Draco rested a hand on Neville's shoulder tentatively. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Neville ran his hand through his dark locks. "Let's get this shit done. I'm exhausted."
Neville sat slumped into the armchair closest to the fire, his long legs propped up on a footstool. He gazed into the crackling flames, weighing his options as they were presented to him earlier. He knew that the time had come to make a decision.
On one hand, he had Ginny and all that she offered: friendship, stability, a protection of sorts, through Harry, but ultimately, loneliness.
On the other hand, there was Draco and all that came with him: companionship, unpredictability, protection of a different sort, and most likely danger.
Neville ground the heel of his hands into his eyes. How did he end up in this situation, with these choices? Less than a month ago his life had been idyllic. No one expected anything from him—perhaps because they knew that he was incapable of accomplishing anything more than surviving the day. Yes, his life had been simple. And unsatisfying.
At the Yule Ball, Neville had gotten a taste of freedom from that life. It had been unconventional and exciting. He had broken several rules and had made the entire school drop their jaws at his association with Draco Malfoy.
And now, a week later, he was back in his stultifying life. It was as if his eyes had been closed his entire life, and now, finally, they were beginning to open. Was this growing up? Neville would have guessed, had you asked him two weeks ago, that it would have been a more gradual process instead of happening in a jolting instant.
But now he knew better. Now he knew that one defining moment could set the course for everything that comes to pass thereafter. That moment came for Neville when he looked at Ginny and saw her unspoken ultimatum: Me or Him.
His first instinct was to choose the safe and predictable Ginny and the Gryffindors. Ginny loved him and would always be there for him when he cried.
No, his mind yelled viciously. She will not! She has turned her back on you for daring to want something that does not fit into her plans.
Would Draco stand by him through thick and thin? Doubtful, but at least with Draco, he knew what to expect. He could not be disappointed by someone who never made promises, could he?
It's my fault. Neville leaned his head back, breathing deeply as his sorrow seeped into his bones. He had never really been a part of the Gryffindor House. He had been foolish to think that it did not matter. It mattered in everything. He would never be allowed to pursue anything that did not fit in with the Gryffindor Ideal.
Neville slowly pulled his maroon and gold striped tie off and dropped it on the floor by his feet. The sun had been up for hours. The Gryffindors would be making their way to breakfast in a few minutes. As if on cue, the Gryffindor Seventh Year boys thundered down the staircase and disappeared out the portrait hole. Not one of them had spared Neville a glance.
Neville stood up, stretching. He needed a shower before going down. After a long night of solitary contemplation, Neville had finally reached a decision that would alter the course of his future forever.
He bounded up the stairs, his mood light and refreshed despite his lack of sleep.
His tie lay crumpled on the floor, forgotten.