My dear friend and beta SaintDionysus is to thank for the cleanliness of this chapter. Enjoy!

If one good thing, and really there was only one, came out of Neville's accidental voyeurism, it was that he no longer had a crush on Hermione Granger.

Sure, she was still pretty. That hadn't changed. And nice. He still liked her as a person. But her voice no longer inspired the butterfly herd in his stomach to flutter madly. No longer did he follow the journey of her curls as they bounced delicately when she moved. And best of all, he no longer felt a punch in the gut at seeing her on Malfoy's arm.

Every time he saw her walk through the corridors or raise her hand to answer a question in class, all he could see was Malfoy all over her. No offense to Hermione, but it was over. That did it. Aside from the fact that Malfoy was undeniably the biggest prick Neville had ever come across in his lifetime, he knew he'd never be compatible with her...like...in a sex way. Hermione Granger was no faker, and if his memory served him right (and goddammit, it really served him), she sounded as though she had truly enjoyed what Malfoy did to her.

Neville might have been a virgin, but he had an inkling as to what he'd be like in bed, and that wasn't it. In fifteen minutes of unrestrained passion, Malfoy managed to do the one thing Neville had failed to do in four years—quell his love for Hermione Granger. Now he could go back to being her friend and no hard feelings that she didn't love him back. It was kind of a relief, really.

All the same, he wasn't about to buy Malfoy a fucking fruit basket. Where his burning for Hermione had cooled, the fiery rage Malfoy inspired only heightened. That arrogant sneer the Slytherin perpetually wore seemed to shout, "Oh, yeah. I get to fuck Hermione Granger's brilliant brains out on a regular basis and the restof you losers don't. And she looooves it." Neville was positive that was the subtext behind Malfoy's overall unendurable presence. It didn't matter that Neville no longer loved Hermione. That was just fucking rude.

Neville couldn't stop the rolling of his eyes at seeing Malfoy's fingers stroke her lower back like they were contemplating building a summer home there. The kisses he placed on her cheek when they parted seemed ostentatious and unnecessary. He even held her hand in an arseholish way. Malfoy was, quite simply, undeserving. And no amount of non-crush Neville had on Hermione would ever change that.

As he no longer had to fit 'Pointless Pining' into his schedule, he had more time to devote to his babies. His beautiful, sweet-smelling babies who would never prefer blond Slytherin prats to him; they were his priority. However, he was beginning to worry that maybe he had bitten off more than he could chew. The plants were almost ready to break down, and then he'd need to weigh and package them, and before he knew it, it would be time to think about distribution. Neville might be a damned fine botanist, but he was no businessman. Maybe he needed a partner? But there was no one he trusted enough with this, so it was out of the question.

He contemplated this dilemma as he locked the greenhouse after spending several happy hours spoiling his babies. His worries dissolved when he turned his back to find himself face-to-face with Hermione and her Ferret Lover.

"Neville," she said sweetly, her eyes widened in shock. Clearly, she did not expect to see him here. "We were just…um…what are you doing here? Is…this your greenhouse?" Her cheeks turned the most adorable hue of pink. (Come on, she was still hot! Neville was cured of a crush, not blind.)

Neville looked to Malfoy who was surveying him with an unreadable expression. He had always heard girls complain about guys undressing them with their eyes. Although this wasn't at all the same thing, it still left Neville feeling as though every secret, every insecurity was laid open for Malfoy's viewing pleasure. Needless to say, he didn't care for it.

"Just a project I'm doing for independent study," he said, tucking the keys into his robe pocket. He thought he saw Malfoy's mercurial eyes flicker for a moment as he did so, following the movement, but he put it out of his mind. "What about you?"

Useless question. He knew what they were doing. They must have decided that they liked his greenhouse as a new and exciting location in which to fuck and were back for seconds. Maybe even thirds. Dear Merlin, he hoped it was only seconds.

Hermione tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Just going for a walk."

Neville nodded, not missing the way Draco's grip on her hand tightened. He supposed he should feel mildly flattered Malfoy even saw him as enough of a threat to render the display of dominance necessary. Probably not a very big threat, but a threat all the same. "That's good. It's a nice day for a walk."

The three were silent for a moment. Neville stared at the grass near his shoes. Hermione stared at her fingernails. Neither noticed Draco's gaze firmly fixed upon the greenhouse door.

Malfoy broke the silence first. "We should get back to the castle, love," he said, swinging Hermione's hand in his.

"Right. We should," Hermione said, following his lead past the greenhouses to the side entrance.

Neville released an internal sigh of relief at seeing them leave. Had he been paying attention to the lovers as they walked away from him, he would have noticed Malfoy turning his head just enough to shoot one last look at the greenhouse, his eyes sparkling with suspicion.

Neville was sitting by himself at a table in the library surrounded by what could only be described as a minor fortification of books on Herbology, botany, and Muggle gardening. All of them had proven worthless thus far in his quest to find a solution on simplifying the breaking down process of the plants. He was not looking forward to the laborious task. Plus, he needed to figure out how to mask the smell. Now that they were drying, they were starting to attract Hagrid's boarhound, Fang, as well as a small herd of doxies, a couple of families of fairies, several horny squirrels, and Argus Filch. Merlin, if anyone could benefit from this product, it was that old coot. However, Neville suspected his interest lay more with his ardent desire to catch students breaking school rules rather than a curiosity about botanical recreation. Neville had given it his very best Notice-Me-Not charms, but they wore off every few hours. He ran back and forth so much between the castle and the greenhouse to freshen up those charms, he was sure to be found out soon.

"Are you finished with that?"

Neville's eyes stilled on his page. Was someone talking to him?

"This one here. Can I have it, or are you still using it?"

Neville lazily followed the pleasantly throaty female voice to his immediate left. A book on Muggle agriculture. His eyes traced the finger pointing at the book, up the attached arm, over the delicate collarbone, the long neck, and into the face of a tall, rail-thin blonde girl Neville was sure he'd seen around, but he never caught her name. Was she in his year?

"You alright?" she asked.

Neville shook himself. "Yeah, sorry. Um…take it. I'm finished with it."

He wasn't. He hadn't cracked it open yet, but he was honestly so tired, he didn't think he'd find the energy to scour it.

"Thanks." She tucked a lock of fine, shiny hair behind her ear. She had a quirky confidence Neville found quite appealing. She looked like the kind of girl who might have an American guy's name, like Charley, Alex, or Andy. He bet she smelled good.

He blinked when he realized she hadn't left yet. "I'm Neville," he said.

"Hannah. And I know who you are. You're the guy who chopped that snake's head off."

Neville bit his lip to control his smile, feeling his face heat under her hazel eyes. "Yeah, that was me." He tried to keep any Malfoyesque arrogance out of his demeanor as he basked in the attention of the attractive female presence before him. "I know I've seen you around, but I can't quite place how I know you."

She smiled. "That's alright. I'm in Hufflepuff and we don't really draw too much attention to ourselves. But I was in the DA fifth year."

Neville grinned handsomely. "That's it. I knew I remembered you."

"Yeah, I remember you too." She returned his smile and tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. "Well, thanks for the book, Neville."

"Yeah, you too." His eyes crossed as he realized his blunder. You too? Nice job, dumb fuck.

Hannah laughed brightly. "I promise I'll bring it back to you in one piece."

Neville's eyebrows shot up. "Yeah. Um…thanks. That would be good. Because you know…I'll need it back."

He wouldn't.

She nodded, looking over her shoulder as she walked away. "I'll find you."

Neville sat there slack-jawed as Hannah disappeared from his view. He shook himself after a while, realizing he must look quite the sight, catching flies because a pretty girl spoke to him.

"Fuck," he whispered to himself. Malfoy be damned. It wasn't half bad to be Neville Longbottom right now.

Later that day Neville sauntered over to the greenhouse with a new bounce in his step. He wondered how soon was too soon to ask for that very important book back from Hannah. As he tried to control his swagger he hoped to Merlin, for the second time that day, that he didn't look like Draco Malfoy.

Neville reached the greenhouse door and performed the series of unlocking charms and unearthed his key. When he opened the door, his good mood vanished.

Speak of the fucking literal devil.

"Malfoy?" Neville struggled to maintain composure. "What the fuck do you think—"

"Shh, Longbottom. I'm thinking." Malfoy just stood there, pewter eyes narrowed, taking in the behemoth of mind-altering potential before him. "Alright. You can speak now."

"Oh, may I? Thank you ever so much. You fucking twat." Neville cleared his voice. "What the living hell are you doing in my greenhouse? How did you even get in here?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes as if even contemplating how to answer those questions bored him. "A more appropriate question, Longbottom, is why don't you lock your key up when you don't have it on you?"

Neville sputtered. "I…I…I keep it in a drawer in—"

"In your bedside table. Yes, I know. That wasn't my question. It seems to me that if you had any real interest in keeping this little project a secret, that you would have kept your key under…well…lock and key." The prat smirked at his self-perceived cuteness. "And honestly, with the back-and-forth, and back-and-forth between here and the castle—you were practically begging someone to catch you."

"Why are you here, Malfoy?"

Malfoy smirked triumphantly. "I want in."

Neville stared at the blond for a moment before doubling over laughing. It was a true laugh. A cathartic laugh. It came deep from within. Did Blondie honestly think he would just hand over his babies? It was so absurd Neville couldn't even find the will to be angry about it. "You want in. Wow, Malfoy, thank you. I needed that."

"I'm not fucking around, you irrelevant piece of buggering fuck. You're lucky it was me who found your little operation here. All it took was a well-placed Accio, a bit of deduction, and a replication charm and I found you out. Plus, you can't honestly think to break all this down yourself. Face it, Longbottom. You need me."

Neville hated the words coming out of the smug gash in Malfoy's ferrety face. But he couldn't deny that they carried some merit. He had been sloppy. And overwhelmed. The two likely went hand-in-hand and he couldn't deny that he had been wondering how he could possibly do everything else himself. Under other circumstances, he would have welcomed a confidant. But Malfoy certainly would not have been his pick.

"Why should I trust you?"

"You know, Longbottom," Malfoy's smirk turning nasty. "The other day when I was making sweet love to my fiancée…you know my fiancée, right? You should. You've lusted after her since before your balls dropped."

How the fucking shit did Malfoy know about his crush on Hermione?

"Anyway, I was…shall we say, enjoying her company the other day on the other side of that wall over there, and it was just the strangest thing, Longbottom. I could have sworn I heard a noise coming from this very building. It sort of sounded like the strangled death rattle of a filthy little perverted wanker who's arse I should pummel into a pulp for even daring to listen in on us. But I could be wrong." His eyes hardened and glistened with something that looked a bit like victory.

"Look…Malfoy. I didn't mean to—"

"Those noises you heard her make? They are mine, Longbottom. Every part of her pleasure belongs to me because I am the one giving it to her and I will be the only one to do so for the rest of our lives. You are not entitled to hear her noises. They were not for you, Longbottom."

"I know. And I swear to you, I have no intention to—"

"To wank to the thought of what Hermione sounds like when she comes? Probably too late for that, I'd wager. I don't care about your intentions, Longbottom. The truth is, you fucked up. And you owe me. Because believe me," his jaw clenched, "I am fucking pissed off."

Neville's eyes sparkled with the rage of a trapped animal. "If you knew I was in here, why did you keep going?"

"The day I let you keep me from sex, Longbottom, will be a cold day in hell," Draco said humorlessly. He looked ready to pounce. "It's no one's fault but your own that you listened in on us. I wasn't even completely sure my suspicions were correct until I saw you the other day coming out of here."

"If you were a proper lover to her, you'd be more concerned about her modesty."

"Her modesty. Firstly, don't give me that patriarchal shit, Longbottom. Hermione is a woman. She knows what she wants and she doesn't need me to tell her. Second, what the fuck do you know about my concern? I'm fucking livid. The only thing keeping me from intimately acquainting your head with your arse is that fact that it'd be far more of a punishment for you if I held it over your dense, oversized head. Don't think for a minute that if you ever pull a stunt like that again I will hesitate to hang you up over the Quidditch pitch by your balls. And lastly," his wicked smirk returned. "You were there, Longbottom. You should know exactly how proper a lover I am to Hermione."

"You've made your point, Malfoy. Hands off your girl. Don't worry. I don't feel those things anymore."

"You're no threat to me, Longbottom. I just want you to understand that you needn't waste your time. And, of course, if you decide you don't need a partner, my tongue can be rather clumsy in letting certain information slip."

"I got that, Malfoy." Neville glared daggers at him. "You want to be partners? You realize that means that you'll do half the work?"

Malfoy scoffed. "Well, I can't bloody well let you do everything, can I? Otherwise I'd never see a return on my investment."

Neville rubbed his face in frustration. "I can't believe I'm even considering this. Especially considering the fact that you barged in here and basically forced your way in on something that was supposed to be mine. I mean, where do you get off?"

Malfoy smirked. "With my bride-to-be, of course. In ways and places you can't even begin to imag—"

"I don't need a bloody reminder, Malfoy." Neville mentally kicked himself for setting Malfoy up for that one. "What can you bring to this? I understand Herbology. I developed the strain. I've done all the physical labor thus far. What can you do?"

Malfoy looked around the room. "If you break this down properly and sell it within a properly controlled operation, hiring a few foot-soldier types to interact with your clients and protect your identity, you'll be rid of all this easily before graduation. And you'll gross about…" Draco thought for a moment. "Close to 100,000 Galleons after I take my cut."

Neville's eyes widened. 100,000 Galleons? That was a lot of money. He never anticipated he could actually get rich from his little hobby. He had been in it for the love of the thing.

"But if you run this dog and pony show, Longbottom, you'll gross closer to 40,000 Galleons continuing the way you've been up to this point. And that's assuming you don't underestimate the value of your product. Knowing you, you'll probably give the stuff away. You need subtlety, elegance, someone to inspire fear."

"I chopped the head off—"

"Yes, yes, Longbottom we all heard. But unless I'm spitting Parseltongue at you and you're wielding a five stone sword, I see no reason to be in the least frightened of you. And I'm of the majority opinion. Gryffindor or not, you're a pussy."

"I'm not a pussy."

"Because you killed a snake?"

"The thing was huge."

"I Avada'd my father. I win. You need me."

Neville was taken back by that. He'd heard rumors that Malfoy had been involved in his father's demise that day the Death Eaters broke into Hogwarts, but he never knew for sure what had happened.

Fuck. Killing your own father…that shit was cold. Plus, it was Lucius Malfoy. He might have been merely a servant to Lord Voldemort, but if you stood the two of them side by side, an ignorant layman probably would have assumed their roles were reversed. After all, who wouldn't fear the impeccable, evilly elegant Lucius Malfoy over the noseless bald dude with the dicky teeth? "Why? What's in this for you, Malfoy? You don't need the money, you despise me…why do you want to go into business with me?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I'm bored."

Neville knew there had to be more, but he wasn't about to push it just yet. "What are your terms?"

Malfoy brightened. "Because I'm being such a good sport coming in and saving your, I assume, hairy arse from certain failure, I'll take seventy percent."

Neville's eyes widened. "Seventy percent? You've got to be joking. It was my idea! I did all the work."

"There's a difference between starting a business and keeping it, Longbottom."

"It's extortion!"

Malfoy narrowed his eyes in contemplation. "If you think about it, it's really more like blackmail. But sure, I'm not fussy about labels."

Neville fumed. "I don't think Hermione will be as upset by my mistake as she would be by you exhorting and stealing from one of her oldest friends. Do you think we should ask her? Thirty percent, or nothing."

Malfoy smirked. "Well, look at you, growing a pair. You know, Longbottom. Maybe you are more cut out for this than I originally thought. But it's forty percent or I'm walking out the door and you can do all this yourself."

Neville nodded. "Done."

The two boys, the fair and the dark, shook hands.

Neville wondered if he'd just made a deal with the devil.