TW: Injury, mentions of torture, war and homophobia (partially internalised by Theo)
Also Theo's mind is a bit in the gutter towards the end of the chapter. Nothing happens, but you know.. maybe don't read this at work. 😉
ooo
"Longbottom?" Theo's heart was racing, as he slinked around the corner to the front of Greenhouse Six.
He shouldn't have come. He didn't know what had possessed him to sneak out of the castle at night. Surely, that was a whole other level of recklessness than just sitting in an empty corridor near his Common Room after curfew.
Hissing a few choice curse words under his breath, he tiptoed along the outside of the glass-paned building, before whisper-calling for the Gryffindor again.
"Longbottom!"
Where was the idiot? It was all his fault that Theo was out here risking expulsion, or even worse, his life.
After Theo's rather awkward escape the week before, Neville hadn't joined him in the Dungeon's for eight evenings in a row, and Theo had begun to think that Neville probably didn't want to spend time with him anymore. He was sure he'd much more prefer the company of his loud and openly affectionate Gryffindor friends, than that of a strange and far too reserved Slytherin.
So, when Neville had slipped him a note that read "Meet me at 11pm at Greenhouse Six" after their shared Transfiguration lesson earlier today, Theo just couldn't resist the temptation.
"Psst!" A quiet voice came from further down along the Greenhouse. "Over here!"
Theo's heart skipped with relief as he spotted the tall wizard in the shadow of a row of hedges that divided the Greenhouses from the rest of the Hogwarts grounds.
"What the fuck, Longbottom?" He growled, when he finally reached the sandy-haired wizard, and shot him a scathing look. But Neville only grinned and put a finger to his mouth, warning him to be quiet, before pointing towards a different, slightly larger glass building and motioning for Theo to follow him.
It wasn't until they had snuck into Greenhouse number five, and Neville had thrown both a locking and a silencing charm at the door, that he spoke up.
"I'm sorry." He said, his breath as heavy as if he'd just run a marathon. "I was going to meet you at number Six, but I needed something from in here first." He cast a weak Lumos and began to walk down the corridor of the large glass building, eyeing each plant he passed with intent as if he was looking for something.
Theo took the liberty to cast a couple of well-practised Notice-Me-Not charms on him and Neville (they were in a building made of glass after all) before also lighting his wand and following him.
"What are we doing here?" He asked, taking in the rows and rows of multicoloured plants.
"I just need…a-ha!" Neville came to an abrupt halt, a smile of recognition spreading on his wand-lit face, as he knelt down and began to harvest big bushels of a sprawling plant with small, bell-shaped flowers of deep purple and rather large, pointed leaves.
"Ditterny?" Theo asked, frowning down at the plain-looking herb. "What do you need -"
"I'm not stealing it." Neville cut him off, looking guilty in spite of what he'd just said. "Professor Sprout gave me permission to use whatever I need from the Greenhouses. She…well…" He hesitated and, despite the low light of their wands, Theo could tell that he was blushing. "She said I have a knack for plants and that it would be a shame to let such talent go to waste, so she told me to come and practice in here as often as I want."
Theo wasn't surprised by this. It wasn't exactly a secret that Herbology was Neville's favourite subject. Everyone and their blind house-elf could see that.
"I'm not accusing you of stealing." Theo said, as Neville got up and walked over to an overloaded potting bench and placed the handfuls of leaves into a large terracotta pot. "I'm just wondering what you need it for."
Neville visibly stiffened at the question, but didn't reply. Instead, he picked up an old trowel, turned it up-side-down and began to pound at the leaves with the back of the tool's handle.
Theo stood for a little while and watched Neville work, but when it became clear that the stubborn Gryffindor wasn't going to answer, he tried again.
"Seriously, Longbottom." He said, voice tense and imploring. "What are we doing here?"
At that, Neville finally paused his assault on the herbs in the pot and looked up, jaw tense and nostrils flaring as he blew out a deep breath through his nose. He still didn't answer, but turned his back towards Theo, reached up to grab the back of his shirt, and pulled it off over his head to reveal his back.
Theo's breath caught in his throat as he gaped at the wizard with shock. His whole upper body was covered in bruises, with shades of deep purple and black mixing with big blodges of a sickening greenish-yellow, only interrupted by the angry red of several deep slashes near the boy's spine.
His stomach churned as he took in the offending sight. The result of a rather vicious Flagellation hex, no doubt. Theo knew that one well. It was one of his father's favourite types of punishment.
"Fuck." he breathed, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat. "What happened?"
"I couldn't let them torture a first year, Theo." Neville murmured, and Theo instantly understood. He had heard that the Carrows had introduced a new form of punishment to the school. Instead of detention, students who misbehaved were now forced to act as live-dummies for the older students to practise the Cruciatus curse on. It made Theo sick to even think about it.
"You need to stop fighting them so hard." He breathed, knowing even as he said it, that he never would. Neville wasn't one to stand back and watch when others got hurt. "You're going to get yourself killed."
"I'm fine." Neville groused. He didn't turn around to face him, but Theo could tell that his jaw was set in that stoic sort of way again. The one that Theo still wasn't used to seeing on the normally so friendly face. "It's just a few bruises."
"Just a few bruises?" Theo repeated weakly. "Mate…you look like you were hit by the Knight Bus!"
Neville only shrugged and went back to his mashed-up dittany, stirring it lightly, before scooping a small lump of it into his palm and trying to reach over his shoulder to spread it on a particularly nasty bruise right at the top of his spine.
Theo watched him struggle for a moment, before he clicked his tongue annoyedly and stepped closer.
"Oh, give me that." He spat, snatching the pot with the smelly poultice away from him.
"I hate this." He grumbled, carefully beginning to dab the pungent paste onto Neville's back. The Gryffindor let out a sharp hiss, which was quickly followed by a relieved sigh when the plant began to work its magic.
"I'm sorry." Neville mumbled, teeth gritted and eyes squeezed shut, as Theo began to work on one of the deep cuts a bit further down.
"Well, 'sorry' doesn't really cut it, does it?" He chided. "If you go on like this, you'll be dead by the end of term. Is that what you want?" His blood ran cold at the thought of it and he had to fight to suppress a shudder. "I'm serious, Neville. I'm not asking you to change your beliefs or stop fighting those…those monsters, but there must be a better way of doing it than to act as their personal punch bag."
"You're not?" Neville sounded surprised, twisting his neck in an attempt to look at Theo, but giving up quickly when the movement drew another pained gasp from his lungs.
"Not what?" Theo asked, confused.
"You're not asking me to change my beliefs?"
Theo hesitated for a moment. They had never talked about this before. He'd known right from the start what side Neville was on, of course, but he had never told him about his own stance on the war; mainly, because he wasn't quite sure himself. Technically, Neville was the enemy. He was actively fighting You Know Who. The person Theo's dad worked for. The person Theo was supposed to work for. But now that he thought about it, he'd never once seen Neville as his foe. If anything he admired the brave wizard; wished that he could be a bit more like him. To fight for something that was actually worth fighting for and not be afraid.
"Of course not." He eventually said, swallowing hard. "Think of me as you might, but I'm not a monster. I hate watching children being tortured just as much as you do. …Besides, it's not like I didn't know what side you're on when we first started talking."
Neville seemed to contemplate this for a moment and then, like a true Gryffindor, asked the question that most people would have been afraid to ask:
"And what side are you on?"
Theo's throat constricted painfully, forcing him to take several unsteady breaths before he could answer.
"My father works for You Know Who." He almost whispered, struggling to keep his hands steady, as he dabbed the last few bits of poultice onto Neville's back.
The statement was followed by a short and tortuous silence that was only interrupted by the thrashing sound of Theo's blood rushing through his ears, until Neville finally nodded and turned around to face him.
"I know he is." He said, not seeming surprised in the slightest. "But I didn't ask about your father. I asked about you, Theo. I want to know what side you are on."
Theo could have sworn he'd stopped breathing all together, as he stared into Neville's soft, searching eyes, his heart racing, as he opened and closed his mouth several times, struggling to find an honest answer.
"I don't know." He eventually admitted, his throat tight and eyes beginning to sting. "I…He wants me to follow into his footsteps."
"And is that what you want?"
Theo didn't understand how Neville could stay so calm. He had practically admitted to him that he was well on his way of becoming a Death Eater, and he was just standing there, looking at him with those stupidly big eyes and not a trace of hatred or disgust on his handsome face.
"Of course, I fucking don't" He spat, surprised at his unusual lack of self-preservation. When had he become so recklessly honest?
To his utmost despair Neville smiled. Smiled! He was starting to think that something was seriously wrong with the idiot. How could he smile in a situation like this?
"I thought you didn't." He said, looking almost smug as he picked up his shirt and pulled it back over his head, before tucking it carefully down over his poultice-covered back.
Theo bit down a comment about how the paste was going to permanently stain Neville's clothes and forced himself to focus on the more pressing matter on hand, as he answered with a bitter "It's not like I've got much of a choice, though." instead.
At that, Neville finally finished fidgeting with his shirt and looked up at him, a look of surprise that very quickly morphed into determination on his face.
"I think you're wrong." He said simply, looking at Theo with such an intensity that it seemed to suck all the air out of the room. "I think there's always a choice."
ooo
Later that evening Theo was lying alone in his four-poster bed, unable to sleep. After his rather careless confession that he didn't want to be a Death Eater, Neville had taken him to Greenhouse Six, like he had originally planned, and showed him a fairly ugly and inconspicuous plant that he had grown himself. Apparently, the little plant was a rare variety of Goldenseal, that had multiple medicinal uses and was one of the key ingredients of Madam Pomfrey's famous Pepperup Potion. According to Neville the Hogwarts Matron had been unable to source the plant since the beginning of the war and had to revert to using the more common and much less potent Creeping Buttercup instead.
The look of unrestrained glee and pride on Neville's face, as he had shown Theo the small plant was still burned into his memory, and yet again, he wondered how someone could find so much joy in doing the right thing. He could be spending his time growing the fiercest varieties of Venomous Tentacular or the beautiful, yet dangerous fire-breathing Dragon Orchid, not some boring little herb that Pomfrey wants for her potions.
But that was the thing about Neville, wasn't it? To him the herb wasn't boring, because it would help people. Neville always wanted to help. It was in his nature, and Theo couldn't help but envy him a little for it. He wished he was just a little bit braver… a little bit better… too.
Not for the first time this evening Theo's mind wandered back to their conversation in Greenhouse Five, wondering if Neville was right. Did he really have a choice? And more importantly, did he want to have a choice? He knew that he didn't want to be like his father and his Death Eater friends. He was sure of that. …But to join the other side and fight against the Dark Lord? He didn't think he'd have the guts to do that.
He heaved a heavy sigh and closed his eyes, wondering what it would take for him to step up and be as brave and courageous as Neville Longbottom.
Maybe if he had something worth fighting for… or someone.
As if summoned by the deepest and most depraved part of his subconscious, the picture of Neville came to the forefront of his mind again. Neville standing in front of him, shirtless and with that annoyingly handsome smile on his face.
Of course, Theo hadn't allowed himself to think about the fact that Neville had been in a state of half-undress when he was rubbing smelly plant matter onto his back earlier this evening. Neville had been hurt, and the tending to his wounds had been Theo's main priority. But now that the bruises and cuts had been dealt with and Theo was alone in his bed, he couldn't really stop his mind from replaying the scene over and over again. The moment when Theo had finished administering the poultice and Neville had turned around to face him.
Theo could feel his heart speed up as he thought about the Gryffindor's exposed torso and bit his lip.
Neville was fit.
Not in a conventional way, with washboard abs and those sharp v-lines that Blaise had on his hips, and that all the girls seemed to drool over. No, Neville was definitely a little softer around the middle, his abdominals covered in a thin layer of excess fat and a light dusting of blonde hair below his belly button; but his chest was strong and well defined, his shoulders broad and muscular, and his arms big and impressively toned. He somehow managed to look both cuddly and powerful at the same time.
Theo's breath hitched, as he imagined what it would feel like to be held by those strong, protective arms, until he realised what he was doing and instantly felt mortified.
Fuck!
He had promised himself to never think about boys like that again. Not after his father had discovered the picture of Kirley Duke, lead guitarist of the Weird Sisters, that Theo used to keep under his pillow (and regularly toss off to) when he was fifteen. His father had been absolutely livid and had tortured him into near insanity, before he had left him lying in his own urine on the floor to think about his 'disgusting perversions'.
After that, Theo had gone and collected all his hidden wank material and vanished it, before finding Draco and asking him to teach him Occlumency to protect some of his more incriminating memories from his father's prying mind, but found quickly that he wasn't very good at it. So, in the end, he decided to fill his head with less offending memories instead. He did all the things a normal teenager would do: He attended parties, got drunk with his friends, snogged girls, lost his virginity to Daphne Greengrass and even dated her for a while…and, most importantly, never allowed himself to look at, or even think about boys in any way that wasn't strictly platonic, ever again.
…Until Neville fucking Longbottom, and his stupid handsome face, and that stupid tall body and stupid strong arms… and...FUCK! Theo let out a low groan and pushed a frustrated hand through his tousled hair.
'Stop it, you idiot!' he chided himself. 'Just think of something else.'
Sucking in a deep breath through his nose, he tried to steer his mind towards girls instead. He could do this. All he needed was a little distraction.
'Okay…Girls.' he thought, trying to paint a picture in his head. 'Long hair…preferably blonde. Big tits, of course…soft, rosy lips…small, gentle hands…'
'Neville's hands are gentle too.' His mind supplied unhelpfully. Theo knew this, because he'd seen the kind Gryffindor handle his plants with a sweet and attentive tenderness that he himself had always lacked. But, as gentle as Neville's hands could be, they weren't small. They were big and strong, with large palms and long, calloused fingers that would probably feel incredibly good around Theo's…
"For fuck's sake!" Theo groaned, turning onto his stomach and burying his head under his pillow. This was going to be a long night.
ooo
Poor Theo! How long do you think it will take him to realise that he can't fight who he is?