Summary: In desperate need of money when his Gran sends an owl to tell him he will be receiving no more allowance, Neville applies to test some of the Weasley twins' latest products. Little does he know they are starting a new line directed towards a more adult audience, and consider him a prime subject for testing an aphrodisiac. Taken from Challenge #86 from Woobies of Destiny Harry/Neville fuh-q fest. Non-HPB compliant.

A/N: I've resigned myself to the fact that this really isn't a PWP, because someone would have dropped their drawers a long time ago. The smut is coming...eventually. I promise!

Chapter Two: Sneezewort, Lovage Mixed in With a Bit of Grass Always Leads to Befuddlement.

There is no aphrodisiac like innocence.
- Jean Baudrillard

After completing his homework, Neville spent the better part of his Saturday afternoon in the greenhouse. Professor Sprout long ago allowed Neville to keep a small amount of plants, approved by her, of course in exchange for some manual labour on his part in daily upkeep. The worries and anxieties outside the glass walls would fade away as soon as he inhaled the earthen smell of moist soil and the myriad of scents wafting from different plants in the close, humid air.

Neville felt the swirl of anxiety in his stomach still and his heart ease as he put on an apron and a pair of gloves. This was his environs. There was no one to taunt him here, no one staring him down, watching his every move for the exact moment when he made a mistake. Not many others cared that much about Herbology, but for him it was like coming home. The quiet peace that pervaded the greenhouse entered into him while he was there, and brought clarity to Neville's confusing existence. Neville took the watering pail and began watering the plants which needed it while going over his week.

Potions went as well as expected, which was disastrous, of course. Although Snape no longer had the ability to tower over Neville as menacingly as he once did, the man never lost his talent, nor his wont, to torture him mercilessly. Neville gave up attempting to understand exactly why he was so targeted by the bat of the dungeons, other than that Professor Snape was a sadistic bastard that found pleasure in nothing but instilling fear or pain in others.

Neville walked by the sneezewort plants, and one of them was wilted. He frowned since he knew he watered them two days ago. He put down the watering can, and lifted one of the pots onto a nearby workbench.

God, what exactly did Neville do to deserve that treatment? He knew he wasn't the smartest, quickest, or best at anything really, but did Snape really have to be so cruel?

Neville turned the pot upside down and tapped the sides of the pot solidly to loosen the plant, and let it out of the pot. He fought the tickle in his nose and tried not to breathe too deeply, since the plant was pollinating.

Perhaps Snape only meant to build his character. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, or so he'd been told. Dragon's dung! As if Snape cared a whit for his well-being.

Neville couldn't fight the urge any longer and let out a tremendous sneeze. He nearly lost his grip on both the plant and the pot, yet he managed to place the pot on the ground in one piece. He manoeuvred off his glove and wiped his nose on his hankie.

Neville scowled at the thought of the greasy git. He might actually stand up to him one day, if only he wasn't so bloody scared of him.

With his glove back on, he examined the root bulb. Although it had already flowered, he decided to go ahead and repot the sneezewort, as it outgrew its current one. He carefully placed it back momentarily in its old pot and went to the storage closet for another. Once he spotted the right size, he tossed in a burlap bag filled with mix and brought it back to the workbench.

One day, he repeated to himself. One day I will.

He covered the hole in the bottom of the pot with a broken piece of clay, and poured in a good amount of mix. He massaged the tightened rootball with his fingers, gently coaxing it to unfurl. He then placed the plant into its new home and filled the rest of the pot with mix until it was an inch below the lip of the pot. He lifted the pot with a grunt, and placed it on the ground to water.

He tilted the watering can to let a gentle stream of water pass over the plant, and let his mind wander to more pleasant things. Like how gorgeous Harry looked that day.

The watering can slipped from his fingers and its clatter shattered the peaceful silence that usually enveloped his sanctuary.

Neville jumped, cursed under his breath and picked up the can before all the water drained onto the floor. Luckily, the sneezewort does not react aversely to pots with Unbreakable Charms; otherwise the abused pot would have been in pieces. He breathed deeply to calm his hammering heart, and wondered why the hell he was thinking about Harry in that way. Neville had always felt gratitude and a measure of awe for him, but… what in the hell was he thinking? Gorgeous? Harry? The very brave, very male, bloke that shared his dormitory for over six years?

He was going mad. That must be it, he thought. I've spent too much time around plants and lost my bloody mind.

He sneezed again.

He finished watering the sneezewort and placed it next to the others. Right outside the greenhouse was a rain barrel, and Neville went to refill the watering pail. He stood there for a moment, but set the pail to the side, cupped some water in his hands, and splashed his face. He rubbed the frigid water out of his eyes, and hoped it would clear his obviously demented mind.

He dried his face with the hem of his apron, and took a few cleansing breaths. A semblance of normalcy returned, and Neville felt it was enough to return to task. He took the full pail back inside, and continued watering.

Over the course of the next couple of hours, Neville repotted and tended to the rest of the greenhouse. When it was almost time for dinner, Neville rinsed out the old pots no longer being used and carried them along with the bag of mix and watering pail to the storage cupboard. He took off his gloves and apron and went up to Gryffindor Tower in hopes of having enough time to shower before dinner. He wasn't going to hope to see Harry in the dormitory. Not at all.

Later that evening, the common room was full of students playing various games or telling jokes, all refusing to even think of their homework until Sunday. No one noticed Neville was missing. At least no one remarked on it.

"Argh!"

In the seventh year boys' dormitory, a crumpled piece of parchment flew across the room to join the others already residing on the floor.

Neville leaned back against his bed and ran his hand over his face. How was he supposed to write a letter to George and Fred without sounding like a complete prat? For the past week, Neville had been trying to work up his courage to write the damn letter, and the last thing he needed was another way to make a fool of himself. He looked over to the growing pile across the room, and knew he would most likely need the job just to pay for more parchment.

Swallowing his anxiety and his pride, he bent to write what he hoped was his last draft.

It read:

Fred and George Weasley,

I saw the leaflet you sent around Hogwarts, and would like to be a beta tester for one of your products. What sort of product would I test? How much would I be paid?

Regards,
Neville Longbottom.

Good. It was short, to the point, and contained no mistakes. He thought of going up to the Owlery tonight, but wondered what Fred and George would be doing. They were most likely out on dates, or developing a master prank on the Ministry. How utterly pathetic would it be to deliver a letter like that on a Saturday night? Neville decided it would be best to wait until Monday to send the letter. He placed the letter in the bottom of his trunk. Neville didn't know what he would do if anyone found it.

It was still only nine thirty, but Neville decided to go to bed. He didn't feel up to going downstairs and trying to get in a game of Exploding Snap or sitting at the edge of conversations. He went to the loo, brushed his teeth, changed, and climbed into bed. With his curtains closed and duvet up to his chin, Neville thought about the letter sitting at the bottom of his trunk. He worried his lip at the thought of what the twins would have him test. He knew it would certainly be something humiliating, he'd resigned himself to that, but its degree of humiliation was yet to be seen. Would it be terribly painful? Perhaps he should make an appointment with Madam Pomfrey ahead of time.

Knowing it was pointless to worry over something over which he had no control, he tried to put it out of his mind. Monday morning, he promised himself. He would send it on Monday and be done with it.

Fred and George Weasley sat in relative silence in their facing desks in their office at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes on what they considered to be an obscenely early Monday morning. Each nursed a cup of strong coffee and groggily read the post that came in over the weekend.

The sound of Fred spitting his coffee all over his desk and letting out a bark of laughter brought George's head up in surprise. It was almost a written rule not to expend a large amount of energy before noon, so Fred's outburst was surprising.

George let out a snort. "What, did Fudge finally come out and ask to try our rumoured enhancement elixir?" He chuckled at the thought.

"Close, mate. Listen to this," said Fred, still laughing. He proceeded to read Neville's letter.

"Regards," Fred finished, "Neville Longbottom." He looked up at his twin with a manic grin.

George's mouth fell open in shock. "I'll be buggered," he breathed. "Neville Longbottom?"

"Do you suppose he's a masochist?" Fred asked lightly, cocking his head to the side. "He's got to either be that or bloody mad! 'I'd like to be a beta tester,' he probably gets off on it, you know."

"Possible, but he's probably just broke," said George plainly. Fred's shoulders slumped in concession.

"But really, for money or no, to willingly place himself in our clutches again is… disturbing."

"Well, no matter what his reason for sending us an owl, we must decide which of our latest products to test," said George.

They both leaned back in their chairs, and bounced ideas around. Most products in development didn't need a tester as the positions were already filled by others who were in desperate need of gold.

"George, we've been thinking of our amateur products. What about our new line? Neville's of age now, isn't he?" Fred quirked his eyebrows.

George opened his mouth to protest, but a smirk grew on his face as he realized the possibilities. "Bloody brilliant, Fred." He jumped out of his seat in uncharacteristic excitement so early in the morning and began pacing the room.

Running through the list of their growing adult line, he stopped suddenly in his tracks and said with a matching grin in time with Fred, "The Yin Yang Whoo-ah."

Tuesday morning, an owl landed in front of Neville during breakfast. Neville didn't recognise the bird, but had a good idea who sent it. He gave the owl a piece of his toast and sent it on its way. Neville stared at his name written in a messy scrawl in blue ink.

"Who's the letter from?" asked Seamus. Neville looked up in surprise, unable to erase the guilty countenance from his face.

"This? Oh! It's um, from my gran," he answered. He stuffed the letter into his bag.

"Oh." Seamus frowned a bit. "Did she get a new owl? I don't remember seeing that one before."

"Yeah," added Dean. "Hers was the old, mangy one, right?"

They both looked to Neville.

"Uh… I guess she got a new owl, then." He stood hurriedly, and said, "I'm going to the library for a bit, see you in class." Seamus and Dean exchanged looks, shrugged and continued eating.

Neville sank into one of the chairs in the library. Making sure no one else was around he took out the letter and tore open the seal.

Neville,

Glad to have you on board! The potion we have in mind is an aphrodisiac, and its effects should last about an hour. Fred has already tested it, and with a few modifications we want to be sure of its potency and duration on someone other than ourselves. Sign the attached contract, and send us an owl of the date of the next Hogsmeade weekend, and we'll meet you there to administer the potion. Since we're friends, for services rendered, 10 galleons will be given after a report of the effects of the potion is written.

Fred and George Weasley,
Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes

He read over the letter once more. An aphrodisiac. Isn't that… doesn't that make you want to…

Merlin's balls! Why on earth did the twins want to give him that? He stared at the parchment in shock before dropping his face into his hands. God, how was he supposed to help as a test subject if… if he didn't…hadn't…

Dammit! He couldn't even think the word.

He let out a growl of frustration. Why did they want to give him an aphrodisiac? Was it some twisted joke? He mentally slapped himself. Of course, Fred and George would get a kick out of this. They probably knew he'd never had a girlfriend. Would he be the control test? The one who tests the effects when not getting shagged? He scowled down at the parchment.

Bloody hell.

He ran a hand through his hair and glanced over the letter again. Ten Galleons.

No! His mind protested.

It was a lot of money.

No way in hell.

It only lasts for an hour.

It's your balls' funeral.

Could it really be so bad?

Says the bloke who has the worst bloody luck in the world.

Shut it.

He stuffed the letter into his bag once more, and on his way out of the library glanced at the large grandfather clock behind Madam Pince's desk. He swore under his breath, and hitched his bag higher on his shoulder. He had less than two minutes to get down to the greenhouse for Herbology, and thankfully pushed thoughts of the letter to the back of his mind in favour of the much safer subject of his next class.

A/N: Though I am loath to admit it, I am a review slut. I have no moral fibre in that area. Any feedback would be welcome and appreciated.