Harry climbed wearily through the portrait hole. It was late and he'd just come back from the library. He'd taken to doing his homework there instead of the common room. He found it easier to concentrate when Neville wasn't around to catch his eye. As it was, his eyes were scanning the common room for a glimpse of the round-faced boy. Actually, Harry thought as his eyes swept over the chairs by the fireplace, his face is much slimmer than it used to be. In fact, Neville's grown into his features quite nicely, what with those soft, plump lips and those clear, pretty brown eyes that light up when he smiles. Harry particularly liked the way Neville's slightly curly hair brushed the back of his neck and how his hands were large and strong but really gentle. He couldn't help wondering how it would feel to have Neville's hands on him—any part of him.

Harry had been so engrossed in his musings that he hadn't even realized he was staring at the boy as he catalogued his best assets. Now he noticed that he was indeed staring at Neville. Who looked scared. And had tears in his eyes. And was talking to Ron. Oh, no. Ron didn't. Ron wouldn't have told him. Would he? "Damn it, Ron," he cried, furious that Ron would go to Neville about his crush even when he'd specifically told him not to. "You couldn't just leave things alone, could you?"

Ron, who had jumped in his seat when Harry began yelling, turned and glared at his friend. "Someone had to do something."

"I told you to leave it!" Harry couldn't bring himself to look at Neville. He was too mortified; the boy had been crying about it, after all. "I told you not to meddle!"

All other conversation and activity had ceased; everyone's attention was focused on the arguing friends. Ron crossed his arms over his chest as he stood and stared down at Harry. "I did what you wouldn't do. Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you don't have all the answers?"

"Has it ever occurred to you to mind your own bloody business?" Harry shouted. His breathing came in harsh, shallow drags and he was on the point of tears. Why had Ron told Neville?

"Maybe if you weren't so…"

"Hey!" Harry and Ron turned toward Neville, who was looking at both of them as if they'd lost their minds. "Perhaps you two should talk about this after you've calmed down a bit," he suggested quietly. His gaze flicked from Ron's red face to Harry's. They lingered and Harry tried to decipher the myriad emotions swirling in Neville's chocolate gaze. "Don't…don't you think?"

Wrenching his eyes from Neville's, Harry turned back to Ron. "You shouldn't have done this," he said before stalking off to the dormitory.

Dropping his bag at the foot of the bed, Harry angrily stripped off his clothes and put on his pajamas. He couldn't believe Ron would do something like this to him. They were friends, best friends. If there was anyone he should be able to trust with his secrets, it was him. Flopping on the bed, Harry stared up at the canopy and tried to figure out what he was going to say to Neville. Especially since the boy clearly didn't fancy him in return. This was what he'd wanted to avoid—knowing. It was one thing to fancy someone you considered a friend. It was quite another for that person to be aware of your feelings and not reciprocate them. Not only was it heartbreaking, it also put a strain on their friendship. That was the last thing Harry wanted.

He'd just decided to sit Neville down and assure him that a strictly platonic relationship was all he expected when the boy slipped into the room. Harry's stomach lurched and he examined his fingernails so that he wouldn't stare at his dorm mate. When Neville turned his back and began to undress, Harry squeezed his eyes shut and draped his arm over them. Surely, a boy who'd just been told another boy had a crush on him wouldn't undress in front of said boy if he didn't like him a little bit. Right? Harry desperately tried to figure out what Neville's behavior meant and how he should proceed all while resisting the urge to peek at the boy's tanned, muscular back.

The bed shifted beneath him and Harry uncovered his eyes in shock. Neville, dressed in a close-fitted T-shirt and loose pajama pants, lay beside him staring at the canopy overhead. Harry gaped speechless for a long moment before turning to stare at the canopy as well. He hadn't a clue about what to do or what this new development meant or how to react to having the object of his affection in his bed. Well, all right, on his bed fully clothed though in a horizontal position, but it was disconcerting all the same.

Harry had almost worked up the nerve to speak when Neville broke the silence. "Whatever Ron did, I'm sure he meant well."

"I know," Harry sighed, "but…"

"You should make up with him."

"Did he ask you to talk to me for him?" Harry asked suspiciously.

Neville shook his head. He was still staring at the canopy. "He's too angry right now. I came up to see if you're all right."

"Oh." Harry felt quite flattered that he'd come up just to check on him. Maybe there was still hope.

"Was it something to do with You-Know…" Neville flushed at Harry's pointed look, "sorry…with the 'Dark Lord?'"

Smothering his grin at Neville's artful avoidance of "Voldemort," Harry shook his head. "No. It's personal."

"Oh." He folded his hands on his stomach.

Harry watched the boy chew his bottom lip. After several minutes passed, Harry began to wonder why Neville hadn't gone back to his bed. Maybe this was his subtle way of telling Harry that their relationship was all right even though Neville didn't return his feelings. Or maybe he was working up to confronting Harry about his crush. He didn't really care for either option.

"Ron told me something," Neville said suddenly, "and I'd like to talk to you about it, if you don't mind."

Apologies and reassurances tripped over themselves in his mind, but Harry couldn't bring himself to utter any of them. "Sure, go ahead."

Turning on his side, Neville propped his head in his hand. "He said a lot of girls have been vying for my attention. Have you noticed anything?"

"Er…yeah." It was rather hard not to. Even Ginny and Hermione had commented on how hot the boy had become over the summer. Was Neville leading up to telling Harry he wasn't interested?

"Hmm." Neville flopped onto his back again. "That's odd."

"What?"

"The girls," he said, his voice contemplative. "I lost some weight and grew a few inches and suddenly girls are interested in me? It doesn't make sense. I haven't changed, so why does the change in my appearance matter?"

Harry didn't agree. Neville had changed a great deal since their first year. Though he was still rather forgetful, he'd also grown more confident. His improved self-esteem plus the magical proficiency he'd gained with his new wand had shown everyone that Neville Longbottom was not someone to dismiss. He'd even improved in potions. Yet, for all those changes, he was still sweet, unassuming Neville. Harry thought it was a rather intoxicating combination.

The bed shifted again as Neville turned back toward him. The boy tucked an arm under his head and stared at Harry through thick, straight lashes. Harry had never seen lashes like that before—long and silky and dark; they brushed the curve of his cheeks when he blinked. He bet they were soft, too.

Neville swiped his hand over the bridge of his nose. "Did I get it?"

"What?" Harry asked mystified, blinking out of his trance.

"Did I get it?" he repeated, wiping his mouth.

Harry still had no clue what Neville was talking about. "Get what?"

With a light chuckle, Neville gave him a bemused look. "Whatever you were staring at?"

"What…oh!" Fighting back a blush, Harry gave a vague nod. "Yeah, you got it."

"Are you sure you're all right?" Neville asked, concern furrowing his brow. "You're acting a bit odd."

"I'm just…" Harry shook his head. He really didn't want to explain. "So what are you going to do?"

"About the girls?" Neville shrugged. "Nothing. It's not like they actually like me."

"What makes you say that?"

Neville rolled his eyes. "Come on, Harry. We all know that I'm not exactly a grand catch. I'm certainly not in the same league as the girls Ron mentioned."

"Of course, you are," Harry countered, surprised by Neville's derisive tone.

"Uh huh."

"You are," Harry insisted as he turned on his side and jabbed the mattress with each point. "You're kind and thoughtful. You're a good listener. You never make fun of anyone. You're smart. Yes, you are," he stated fiercely when Neville opened his mouth to deny it. "You are smart and talented and powerful. You are a good person, Neville, and a good wizard and you shouldn't say you're out of anyone's league because you're not."

Ending with a huff, Harry glared into Neville's stunned brown eyes as if daring the boy to disagree. Ever since he'd learned about the prophecy, he'd hated hearing people put Neville down. But it was much, much worse when Neville did it to himself.

They stared at each other in silence. Harry watched curiously then anxiously as the shock in Neville's eyes turned to speculation. What if Neville figured out Harry's speech was born of infatuation? What if the speculation turned to disgust? What if…

Neville tilted his head and closed the short distance between them. Harry's eyes widened as Neville's lips brushed tentatively over his, brown eyes watching his intently. When he didn't pull away, Neville closed his eyes and claimed Harry's lips.

Harry's heart skipped a beat then began to gallop in his chest. Neville was kissing him. He was kissing Neville and it was every bit as sweet and gentle as he'd imagined it would be. Soft, warm lips moved leisurely over his, coaxing him to relax. Harry moaned then gasped when Neville swept his tongue over his lips before darting in to explore Harry's mouth. Sighing, Harry scooted closer to Neville, slipped his arms around the boy's waist and eagerly followed his lead.

They got closer and closer until they were as close as they could get. Neville pressed forward, pushing Harry onto his back. Not that he minded bearing Neville's weight. He slid his arms up Neville's back and wrapped them around his shoulders, lost in the exhilarating sensation of finally kissing the object of his affection.

The kiss seemed to last forever, an enchanting melding of lips and tongues and breath. When Neville pulled back, Harry blinked up at him, bewildered. Had Neville Longbottom really just snogged him senseless? Neville smiled down at him before brushing a quick kiss on Harry's lips. "Are you sure I'm in anyone's league?" he whispered, his voice deliciously hoarse.

Harry nodded; he didn't trust his voice not to crack or squeak or do anything else equally embarrassing.

"Does this mean that we're..." Neville carefully considered his words, "seeing each other?"

He wanted to nod or shout out an emphatic yes, but Harry stopped as he opened his mouth. While he desperately wanted to have a relationship with Neville, he was far too aware of the danger that always surrounded him. Though he didn't know when it would happen, the final confrontation with Voldemort was coming sooner than later and what if Neville got injured in the crossfire. Harry couldn't bear the thought of anything hurting Neville because of him. He was dangerous to know or be around, let alone love. He really cared about Neville. If they were to date, the from-a-distant adoration would deepen and solidify. If that happened, there was no telling what he would do or sacrifice to save Neville.

"Do you just want to snog, then?" Neville asked in the ensuing silence, the disappointment he was trying to hide evident in his voice.

"I want more than that," Harry whispered back. "I'm just not sure if I should."

Neville cocked his head curiously. "Why?"

"You'd be a distraction," Harry said. It was as close as he could come to admitting his real fears.

Nodding thoughtfully, Neville brushed another kiss on Harry's lips before lying beside him. "If they get me and try to use me against you, don't let them. The world is more important than me."

Harry gaped at him, shocked that Neville had picked up on the very thing he feared most. "How did you..."

"We've been dorm mates for over six years," Neville answered with a smile. "Did you think I never paid any attention to you?"

Chuckling, Harry shook his head. "I couldn't let anyone hurt you."

"Whether you and I have a relationship or not, we're all in danger, Harry. And if I don't make it, I'd rather have the memory of really loving you in my heart than wonder what if."

For a long moment, Harry simply stared at Neville. Finally, he asked, "Really?"

Neville nodded.

"You could love me?"

"Yes."

"Me, too," Harry whispered, leaning over Neville and taking his lips in a thorough, happy kiss.

He didn't know how long they'd been kissing when a most deliberate cough interrupted them. Cursing the cougher to perdition, Harry glanced up to find Ron leaning in the doorway. "You should have closed the hangings if you didn't want to be disturbed," Ron said quietly.

Neville moaned and buried his hot face in the crook of Harry's neck. Harry stared at his best friend, a smile slowly dawning on his face. "I know you didn't tell."

"You should have known that from the beginning," Ron retorted good-naturedly.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, practically spitting the distasteful words out.

Biting his lips to keep from laughing, Ron nodded before turning back toward the hall. "You two probably have another half-hour before the others come up."

Harry smirked. "Thanks."

With a shrug, Ron closed the door behind him.

"Neville?" Harry rubbed the brown-haired boy's shoulder. "He's gone."

"That was embarrassing."

"Are you ashamed of me?"

"Of course, not," Neville said, glaring at Harry for even suggesting such a thing. "But I don't care for everyone witnessing the most passionate snogging session of my life either."

Harry grinned. "Well, as your boyfriend, I can guarantee more in the future. That is if you want to be my boyfriend."

Neville smiled at Harry and cupped the boy's cheek, lightly stroking it with his thumb. "I'd like that," he whispered as he closed the bed hangings and set out to show Harry just how much.