~~ Ficlet! Harry/Neville, no less!!
Jun. 1st, 2004 03:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
reenkaPerhaps the trick to not overreacting is not to overthink it. Take things as they come. Or maybe just-- talk about my kinks instead of my squicks. Oh yeah, that's it. :D I'm brilliant after all >:D Lalala, it's a beautiful world.
Anyway, I think I have a new kink, man. OMG, Weasleycest!! Not -just- Weasleycest. No, I've finally done it. I think I'm converted to twincest, because omg Icarus' `Ante Up!' is TEH HOTNESS(!!1) Wah! I... I... need recs or something! Gah! I just. Love it! Probably too much! Way too much!! No sap, no nothing!! So... mmmrgh. Yeah.
It's easier to write-- and sometimes even read-- pairings I don't care about. I feel like I'm -too- invested in H/D, -too- invested in a specific Draco (I'm rather laid back with Harry, and also most people don't really mess with his characterization too widely). Sometimes it feels impossible to read one more H/D fic without losing it in either joy or disgust. I really do think in writing, at least, I really benefit from the concept of "critical distance"-- that is, writing about things I'm not -too- close to somehow. Maybe I'm just too hard on my H/D fics, I dunno. *sigh*. But I wrote this because I was feeling Neville's rage. Go figure.
It occurs to me that Harry/Neville is a bit like the Draco/Zacharias of ships, ahahahaha. For some reason, this really amuses me. Also, when did I get over my need to have every fic be sekritly H/D? Ahahaha.
Disclaimer: I'd say I own Neville's angst, but that would be a lie. Woe...?
Warning: watch out for falling rocks & Harry/Neville.
- home of the brave -
Sometimes Neville Longbottom secretly hated the world.
It was a simple enough choice, really, when it came down to it: either he could hate himself or everything else. And he already hated himself enough of the time, and now that he didn't have the luxury of giving up, those times weren't to be allowed very often.
He'd never been a flashy sort; not the kind of bloke who'd cry or whimper at the stray Bludgers life handed him, was he? No, he was a Longbottom, and that meant something. It meant something to his Gran, and it meant something to him. What's more, he was a Gryffindor, no matter what.
Gryffindors didn't cry, Neville knew that. Gryffindors tried again.
So if it wasn't going to be Ginny, it could be someone else. That was the spirit Gran expected from him. He could almost hear her voice in his ear, scolding him. How could he turn into a wet rag like this over some girl? There was a war to fight and he didn't have the time to lie to himself anymore. He hadn't even wanted her, had he? No.
No.
What kind of friend was he? What kind of man was he?
'True strength comes from being honest with yourself', she'd say. Accept your weaknesses and focus on your strengths. After all, a weakness could become a strength at any time, and a good wizard has to be ready.
The recollection of Gran's strong voice didn't help like it used to, though.
He stuffed a fist in his mouth and tried thinking of how good he'd been getting; he'd come in second after Harry in the recent DA hexing competition. He was great. Brilliant, Harry said.
Harry said that, and Neville wanted to believe.
That look in Harry's eye-- he'd looked straight at him, like he really noticed. Like Neville was a big help, and Harry depended on him; knew he wouldn't let them down.
Harry had clasped his shoulder and told him he did a good job last week.
Thinking of the look in Harry's eyes made Neville queasy, like he'd eaten something that didn't agree with him. He could tell how much it cost Harry to give him a measure of confidence. Harry wasn't as strong as he had been, these days: Neville could tell. So he, Neville, had to be strong enough to make up for all that. Harry would thank him one day, when Neville really helped. Not just a little; not just "didn't hurt". One day, Neville was going to be essential, and he had to be prepared.
Gran had never believed in acknowledging success, because success had to become a habit, she said. You will become what you believe you are, she told him, and he still remembered that even if he couldn't quite decide what she meant. He thought maybe she meant that he'd always be a squib because he couldn't help himself, but maybe he was wrong.
He thought he was getting better, even; he'd begun to hope things were turning around. Yes, this was a dreadful state of affairs, of course; the war was a terrible thing, but he'd started forgetting why he -couldn't- do things, because they needed him, didn't they? He could help.
So he'd tried forgetting the parchment he didn't finish for Transfiguration tomorrow (what was he supposed to write, if he couldn't get the spells to work?) and the dinner he'd skipped yet again and uncomfortable look in Ginny's eyes when he'd asked her....
Neville's pudgy fist was too big to fit into his mouth, and some sound escaped. Something like a whimper, maybe; a little bit like a sob.
It had been a simple question, he thought. It was nothing special, really. He just wanted to see what the fuss was about. Will Putnam, a Ravenclaw seventh-year, said Ginny didn't need much encouragement. If he could do it, certainly Neville could do it. Will had a reputation as a dumpy, unsociable Muggle-born bookworm in a House supposedly full of bookworms. His glasses were even thicker and bulkier than Harry's, and half the time he'd trip over his own feet. He'd seemed to be Hermione's twin in almost every way, and indeed he'd had a widely known crush on her since she'd shown up in Hogwarts with her nose in the air and her hand perpetually raised, but eventually he settled for trying one of Hermione's few girlfriends.
Even if Ginny had done it out of pity, she'd still done it with sad little Will Putnam, hadn't she?
Neville felt he wouldn't have minded pity too much. He could live with it. He just couldn't bear the painfully good-natured teasing about never having had a snog any longer. Maybe it didn't show, but Neville wasn't all that different than any other sixteen year-old boy; there were needs.
Besides, he thought he'd gotten to know Ginny this past year. It wasn't like they were friends, exactly, but even so, she'd taken to smiling at him when she saw him in the corridors. Ginny had a nice, warmly mischievous smile, which made Neville feel warm around the middle. It was easy to fancy a girl was flirting while one was lost in that smile. So easy and sweet; kind of like forgetting something nasty that wasn't worth remembering anyway.
He thought of taking her slim, freckled hand between his own and smiling back at her; that would be nice. He could brush her fringe out of her eyes and make sure they were brown instead of maybe hazel or an odd sort of yellow-green like they were in his nighttime fancies.
When he'd finally gotten up his courage, Ginny looked away and blushed, and like a total git, Neville had pressed. 'What's wrong?' he'd said; 'I can change', he'd said.
And she'd blushed more and winced and told him she'd heard he was queer, and that was all right, of course it was, it was just that it might make things awkward and she didn't want to hurt him and....
What was he supposed to say?
Neville had been getting so close. He'd started forgetting the things he wouldn't become.
He knew he was pudgy and unattractive, though he didn't eat very much. He knew he was awkward and he seemed to do nothing well, and he tried. He really tried. It was never enough, somehow. No matter what he did, he only got in the way.
If he thought about it, he didn't feel self-pity, not exactly. The last couple of winter nights before Christmas, while the few remaining Gryffindor sixth-years were off making merry yet again, Neville laid awake, seething with anger.
At least they noticed he was -there- lately, but they still didn't think he felt the same things they did, he was pretty sure.
It was no good, any of it. He'd kept trying and trying, but it could never really make a difference, because no matter what, Neville couldn't change who he was; not even if he forgot. Someone would always be there to remind him.
He paused for a second, mid-sob, hearing a muffled sound coming from the downstairs Common Room. It was unmistakably Harry's voice, he knew. He didn't know anyone else who yelled like that-- like they were a breath away from setting fires with their voice alone. Only Harry's voice had that sort of power; only Harry's voice made him shiver like this. He didn't know if it felt good or not, but he couldn't quite bring himself to feel guilty. He understood, he thought. The rest of them didn't, but he did.
No one would've believed that he and Harry were alike, and of course in most ways they weren't. But sometimes Neville laid awake and thought about how Harry had lost his parents too, and about how he never talked about it, and how he looked so lost and sad and confused when he thought no one was looking. Maybe Harry hadn't wanted to become who he was either. Neville knew he wouldn't have wanted to be the Boy Who Lived even if he could.
Neville didn't envy him; he just wanted him.
While Neville was also a little scared of Harry, he couldn't help creeping across the room and crouching quietly at the stairs to listen. It was like Harry had acquired some sort of dark, magnetic pull during their fifth year, and it had only been getting stronger and stronger. Neville had always been able to resist, but just barely. Harry was so loud-- so angry. He sounded as frustrated as Neville felt, too, and that meant he couldn't think of backing away.
There had always been a dampening spell of some sort around the Common Room, of course, so Neville couldn't make out the actual words. He could only hear the intonations: Harry's strong voice rising and falling, and Ron and Hermione in staccato counterpoint. Usually Ron got quite a bit louder than Harry in their frequent shouting matches as of late, but this time he sounded more weary than defensive. Neville chewed on his bottom lip worriedly, wondering if this was how it felt when people's parents had rows: this sort of numb, helpless feeling.
Then, suddenly, the voices stopped, and there was a loud crashing sound, the thud of a portrait swinging shut and the heavy fall of rapid footsteps just around the corner. Neville was utterly frozen: even if he hadn't been a Gryffindor, he was simply never very good at running away.
Harry blinked at him, seeming to be just as frozen as Neville himself.
"Er," he said indistinctly. "Listen, about-- that-- I don't know if you heard, so--"
"You don't have to tell me, Harry," Neville said quietly.
Harry blinked some more. The flickering torchlight reflected off his glasses in the dark of the stairway, and Neville thought Harry looked dangerous. So it really made no sense that he felt so safe somehow, did it?
After a bit, Harry grunted and sat down several steps below Neville, leaning against the curving stone wall of the Tower as if he was really tired. "Thanks," he said simply, and that was more than Neville had expected.
"You seem tired," he said tentatively, certain he was making a fool of himself yet again somehow. Maybe taking the focus off himself would help, because Neville hadn't felt this nervous in ages. That was over, he'd thought. He was better now.
A tiny smile curled the left corner of Harry's mouth. "There's no need to be polite to me, Neville," he said lightly.
Neville thought about that for a bit, and about how Harry's eyes were completely in shadow now, and about how he didn't have all that much to lose. After a short internal debate, he moved down to the step next to Harry's, so that their sides brushed together in a way that made Neville's arm and leg buzz pleasantly.
Harry pushed his glasses up his nose and sighed. His hair seemed more ridiculously mussed than usual, and he looked kind of small in that horrid oversized plaid button-down shirt. For a moment, Neville had to remind himself this was -Harry-, and he should know appearances were deceiving.
Though maybe they'd achieve a companionable silence of a sort, soon. Maybe he wasn't too embarrassed to stand without fidgeting awkwardly, and maybe his name wasn't Neville Longbottom.
"They don't mean to hurt you, you know," he said before he thought better of it. Where had -that- come from? He'd been almost-- almost there... almost enough courage at last, and he had to mess it up. "They must care a lot."
Harry snorted. "What makes you think I didn't mean to hurt -them-?"
Neville started, turning his head to stare fixedly at Harry's indistinct profile. Harry's face looked pinched and pale, and he sounded like he was speaking through his teeth, but his body-language was relaxed like he didn't have any place he'd rather be at the moment. He could be as puzzling as a girl, and certainly just as fit-- gods, those eyes. Neville had never seen a merperson up close, not like Harry, but he fancied they'd have eyes like that, so dark and green with untold secrets. What could Neville possibly say to him that would ever matter?
"You wouldn't hurt anyone on purpose, I think," Neville said slowly, painfully startled at Harry's harsh laugh before he realized how that sounded. As usual, that didn't come out right. How stupid could he be, and after--
"Is that so?" Harry was looking back at him now, and their noses were too close. Did Harry notice that? Because they were. "I have, you know. I used an Unforgivable on that -bitch- that-- that killed Sirius, and-- and I liked it. I liked it." Harry sneered at him, and he looked scarier than Neville had ever seen him, and he didn't want to leave. It wasn't about running away, not anymore. He wouldn't leave Harry like this. "I used Crucio on her, Neville. I hurt her, all right."
His fingers tangled at the sides of his pajama bottoms, but Neville didn't flinch. The word "crucio" tumbled around in his head, making him dizzy enough to have been grateful he was sitting down, but he kept staring into those too-green eyes. "I think I-- I understand," he whispered, swallowing.
"Are you afraid of me, Neville?"
Neville didn't like the way Harry said that, like he already knew the answer. He probably wouldn't believe him if he said 'no', either. He was only Neville, after all. Of course he'd be afraid.
There was something hot and insistent that felt like it was stuck somewhere in his chest, but it didn't feel like fear at all. In fact, if Neville didn't know better, he would have thought it was anger.
If Harry kept using his name like that, something was going to happen. He could feel it in his skin, in the prickly pounding of his heart, in his constricted throat. Harry was pushing him, and in the end, Neville didn't like being pushed. Except maybe... by Harry.
"Why should I be?" he said. The steadiness of his voice left something to be desired, overall. "She deserved it."
Harry tilted his head, fleetingly wearing some unnamable expression as he stared at him. Neville could see him pretty well at this distance, and he'd always been pretty good at noticing the relevant details when it counted. So he watched Harry's brows knit and his mouth pucker almost in slow motion, and it would've been cute if Neville wasn't absolutely terrified.
When Harry kissed him, Neville's fingernails dug sharply into his thighs and he made no sound whatsoever. His mouth seemed utterly frozen, like it wasn't his own, and his eyes wouldn't seem to close. He was distantly grateful that he didn't do something completely humiliating like choke on his own spit or moan. His breath had hitched, but that could probably be dismissed as normal. His heart might have stopped there for a second or two or three though, so it was a good thing no one knew much about Neville's heart but Neville.
Harry's eyes were closed behind his glasses, and his mouth was dry and slightly rough. Neville's lips had always been too soft, he knew. Like a girl's.
After it was over, Neville blinked again and again, but the sheer weight of the past few seconds wouldn't lift and go away. He would have thought a thing like that could crush him, but he was still sitting there, staring at Harry. Still not moving, as well.
Good old Neville. Could always be trusted to stick out a difficult situation, they'd say.
Harry still looked rather puzzled, and Neville couldn't imagine why. He was thunderstruck enough for the both of them, unless that wasn't quite the same.
"Are you scared now?" Harry whispered, as if he was asking Neville to tell him a secret. "Tell me the truth." Those eyes were turned on him full strength, and Neville thought he couldn't possibly be enough for what Harry was asking. He'd tried, but this was too much. There were limits to what he could imagine becoming.
"Yes," he rasped.
"Good," Harry nodded. "Me too."
Neville sat there on the stairs for a long time after Harry left the same way he'd come, barely noticing the soft noise of the portrait swinging shut on the other's way out.
He was reminded of being petrified, first year, and still watching the three of them leave, listening to them talk to each other and being unable to do anything whatsoever. He remembered feeling useless and frustrated and quite embarrassed, then, but he was almost certain his chest hadn't ached like this. His lips kept tingling three, four, five minutes later, and Neville thought he'd finally found something he would rather not forget.
Neville got up, groaning as his stiff body uncurled. He would look for Harry because Harry needed him. It was obvious Harry had some things he'd wanted to tell Neville, if Neville had known how to listen. And how hard could one boy be to find, if another didn't stop looking?
Sometimes Neville Longbottom secretly thought he could do anything.
~~
Anyway, I think I have a new kink, man. OMG, Weasleycest!! Not -just- Weasleycest. No, I've finally done it. I think I'm converted to twincest, because omg Icarus' `Ante Up!' is TEH HOTNESS(!!1) Wah! I... I... need recs or something! Gah! I just. Love it! Probably too much! Way too much!! No sap, no nothing!! So... mmmrgh. Yeah.
It's easier to write-- and sometimes even read-- pairings I don't care about. I feel like I'm -too- invested in H/D, -too- invested in a specific Draco (I'm rather laid back with Harry, and also most people don't really mess with his characterization too widely). Sometimes it feels impossible to read one more H/D fic without losing it in either joy or disgust. I really do think in writing, at least, I really benefit from the concept of "critical distance"-- that is, writing about things I'm not -too- close to somehow. Maybe I'm just too hard on my H/D fics, I dunno. *sigh*. But I wrote this because I was feeling Neville's rage. Go figure.
It occurs to me that Harry/Neville is a bit like the Draco/Zacharias of ships, ahahahaha. For some reason, this really amuses me. Also, when did I get over my need to have every fic be sekritly H/D? Ahahaha.
Disclaimer: I'd say I own Neville's angst, but that would be a lie. Woe...?
Warning: watch out for falling rocks & Harry/Neville.
- home of the brave -
Sometimes Neville Longbottom secretly hated the world.
It was a simple enough choice, really, when it came down to it: either he could hate himself or everything else. And he already hated himself enough of the time, and now that he didn't have the luxury of giving up, those times weren't to be allowed very often.
He'd never been a flashy sort; not the kind of bloke who'd cry or whimper at the stray Bludgers life handed him, was he? No, he was a Longbottom, and that meant something. It meant something to his Gran, and it meant something to him. What's more, he was a Gryffindor, no matter what.
Gryffindors didn't cry, Neville knew that. Gryffindors tried again.
So if it wasn't going to be Ginny, it could be someone else. That was the spirit Gran expected from him. He could almost hear her voice in his ear, scolding him. How could he turn into a wet rag like this over some girl? There was a war to fight and he didn't have the time to lie to himself anymore. He hadn't even wanted her, had he? No.
No.
What kind of friend was he? What kind of man was he?
'True strength comes from being honest with yourself', she'd say. Accept your weaknesses and focus on your strengths. After all, a weakness could become a strength at any time, and a good wizard has to be ready.
The recollection of Gran's strong voice didn't help like it used to, though.
He stuffed a fist in his mouth and tried thinking of how good he'd been getting; he'd come in second after Harry in the recent DA hexing competition. He was great. Brilliant, Harry said.
Harry said that, and Neville wanted to believe.
That look in Harry's eye-- he'd looked straight at him, like he really noticed. Like Neville was a big help, and Harry depended on him; knew he wouldn't let them down.
Harry had clasped his shoulder and told him he did a good job last week.
Thinking of the look in Harry's eyes made Neville queasy, like he'd eaten something that didn't agree with him. He could tell how much it cost Harry to give him a measure of confidence. Harry wasn't as strong as he had been, these days: Neville could tell. So he, Neville, had to be strong enough to make up for all that. Harry would thank him one day, when Neville really helped. Not just a little; not just "didn't hurt". One day, Neville was going to be essential, and he had to be prepared.
Gran had never believed in acknowledging success, because success had to become a habit, she said. You will become what you believe you are, she told him, and he still remembered that even if he couldn't quite decide what she meant. He thought maybe she meant that he'd always be a squib because he couldn't help himself, but maybe he was wrong.
He thought he was getting better, even; he'd begun to hope things were turning around. Yes, this was a dreadful state of affairs, of course; the war was a terrible thing, but he'd started forgetting why he -couldn't- do things, because they needed him, didn't they? He could help.
So he'd tried forgetting the parchment he didn't finish for Transfiguration tomorrow (what was he supposed to write, if he couldn't get the spells to work?) and the dinner he'd skipped yet again and uncomfortable look in Ginny's eyes when he'd asked her....
Neville's pudgy fist was too big to fit into his mouth, and some sound escaped. Something like a whimper, maybe; a little bit like a sob.
It had been a simple question, he thought. It was nothing special, really. He just wanted to see what the fuss was about. Will Putnam, a Ravenclaw seventh-year, said Ginny didn't need much encouragement. If he could do it, certainly Neville could do it. Will had a reputation as a dumpy, unsociable Muggle-born bookworm in a House supposedly full of bookworms. His glasses were even thicker and bulkier than Harry's, and half the time he'd trip over his own feet. He'd seemed to be Hermione's twin in almost every way, and indeed he'd had a widely known crush on her since she'd shown up in Hogwarts with her nose in the air and her hand perpetually raised, but eventually he settled for trying one of Hermione's few girlfriends.
Even if Ginny had done it out of pity, she'd still done it with sad little Will Putnam, hadn't she?
Neville felt he wouldn't have minded pity too much. He could live with it. He just couldn't bear the painfully good-natured teasing about never having had a snog any longer. Maybe it didn't show, but Neville wasn't all that different than any other sixteen year-old boy; there were needs.
Besides, he thought he'd gotten to know Ginny this past year. It wasn't like they were friends, exactly, but even so, she'd taken to smiling at him when she saw him in the corridors. Ginny had a nice, warmly mischievous smile, which made Neville feel warm around the middle. It was easy to fancy a girl was flirting while one was lost in that smile. So easy and sweet; kind of like forgetting something nasty that wasn't worth remembering anyway.
He thought of taking her slim, freckled hand between his own and smiling back at her; that would be nice. He could brush her fringe out of her eyes and make sure they were brown instead of maybe hazel or an odd sort of yellow-green like they were in his nighttime fancies.
When he'd finally gotten up his courage, Ginny looked away and blushed, and like a total git, Neville had pressed. 'What's wrong?' he'd said; 'I can change', he'd said.
And she'd blushed more and winced and told him she'd heard he was queer, and that was all right, of course it was, it was just that it might make things awkward and she didn't want to hurt him and....
What was he supposed to say?
Neville had been getting so close. He'd started forgetting the things he wouldn't become.
He knew he was pudgy and unattractive, though he didn't eat very much. He knew he was awkward and he seemed to do nothing well, and he tried. He really tried. It was never enough, somehow. No matter what he did, he only got in the way.
If he thought about it, he didn't feel self-pity, not exactly. The last couple of winter nights before Christmas, while the few remaining Gryffindor sixth-years were off making merry yet again, Neville laid awake, seething with anger.
At least they noticed he was -there- lately, but they still didn't think he felt the same things they did, he was pretty sure.
It was no good, any of it. He'd kept trying and trying, but it could never really make a difference, because no matter what, Neville couldn't change who he was; not even if he forgot. Someone would always be there to remind him.
He paused for a second, mid-sob, hearing a muffled sound coming from the downstairs Common Room. It was unmistakably Harry's voice, he knew. He didn't know anyone else who yelled like that-- like they were a breath away from setting fires with their voice alone. Only Harry's voice had that sort of power; only Harry's voice made him shiver like this. He didn't know if it felt good or not, but he couldn't quite bring himself to feel guilty. He understood, he thought. The rest of them didn't, but he did.
No one would've believed that he and Harry were alike, and of course in most ways they weren't. But sometimes Neville laid awake and thought about how Harry had lost his parents too, and about how he never talked about it, and how he looked so lost and sad and confused when he thought no one was looking. Maybe Harry hadn't wanted to become who he was either. Neville knew he wouldn't have wanted to be the Boy Who Lived even if he could.
Neville didn't envy him; he just wanted him.
While Neville was also a little scared of Harry, he couldn't help creeping across the room and crouching quietly at the stairs to listen. It was like Harry had acquired some sort of dark, magnetic pull during their fifth year, and it had only been getting stronger and stronger. Neville had always been able to resist, but just barely. Harry was so loud-- so angry. He sounded as frustrated as Neville felt, too, and that meant he couldn't think of backing away.
There had always been a dampening spell of some sort around the Common Room, of course, so Neville couldn't make out the actual words. He could only hear the intonations: Harry's strong voice rising and falling, and Ron and Hermione in staccato counterpoint. Usually Ron got quite a bit louder than Harry in their frequent shouting matches as of late, but this time he sounded more weary than defensive. Neville chewed on his bottom lip worriedly, wondering if this was how it felt when people's parents had rows: this sort of numb, helpless feeling.
Then, suddenly, the voices stopped, and there was a loud crashing sound, the thud of a portrait swinging shut and the heavy fall of rapid footsteps just around the corner. Neville was utterly frozen: even if he hadn't been a Gryffindor, he was simply never very good at running away.
Harry blinked at him, seeming to be just as frozen as Neville himself.
"Er," he said indistinctly. "Listen, about-- that-- I don't know if you heard, so--"
"You don't have to tell me, Harry," Neville said quietly.
Harry blinked some more. The flickering torchlight reflected off his glasses in the dark of the stairway, and Neville thought Harry looked dangerous. So it really made no sense that he felt so safe somehow, did it?
After a bit, Harry grunted and sat down several steps below Neville, leaning against the curving stone wall of the Tower as if he was really tired. "Thanks," he said simply, and that was more than Neville had expected.
"You seem tired," he said tentatively, certain he was making a fool of himself yet again somehow. Maybe taking the focus off himself would help, because Neville hadn't felt this nervous in ages. That was over, he'd thought. He was better now.
A tiny smile curled the left corner of Harry's mouth. "There's no need to be polite to me, Neville," he said lightly.
Neville thought about that for a bit, and about how Harry's eyes were completely in shadow now, and about how he didn't have all that much to lose. After a short internal debate, he moved down to the step next to Harry's, so that their sides brushed together in a way that made Neville's arm and leg buzz pleasantly.
Harry pushed his glasses up his nose and sighed. His hair seemed more ridiculously mussed than usual, and he looked kind of small in that horrid oversized plaid button-down shirt. For a moment, Neville had to remind himself this was -Harry-, and he should know appearances were deceiving.
Though maybe they'd achieve a companionable silence of a sort, soon. Maybe he wasn't too embarrassed to stand without fidgeting awkwardly, and maybe his name wasn't Neville Longbottom.
"They don't mean to hurt you, you know," he said before he thought better of it. Where had -that- come from? He'd been almost-- almost there... almost enough courage at last, and he had to mess it up. "They must care a lot."
Harry snorted. "What makes you think I didn't mean to hurt -them-?"
Neville started, turning his head to stare fixedly at Harry's indistinct profile. Harry's face looked pinched and pale, and he sounded like he was speaking through his teeth, but his body-language was relaxed like he didn't have any place he'd rather be at the moment. He could be as puzzling as a girl, and certainly just as fit-- gods, those eyes. Neville had never seen a merperson up close, not like Harry, but he fancied they'd have eyes like that, so dark and green with untold secrets. What could Neville possibly say to him that would ever matter?
"You wouldn't hurt anyone on purpose, I think," Neville said slowly, painfully startled at Harry's harsh laugh before he realized how that sounded. As usual, that didn't come out right. How stupid could he be, and after--
"Is that so?" Harry was looking back at him now, and their noses were too close. Did Harry notice that? Because they were. "I have, you know. I used an Unforgivable on that -bitch- that-- that killed Sirius, and-- and I liked it. I liked it." Harry sneered at him, and he looked scarier than Neville had ever seen him, and he didn't want to leave. It wasn't about running away, not anymore. He wouldn't leave Harry like this. "I used Crucio on her, Neville. I hurt her, all right."
His fingers tangled at the sides of his pajama bottoms, but Neville didn't flinch. The word "crucio" tumbled around in his head, making him dizzy enough to have been grateful he was sitting down, but he kept staring into those too-green eyes. "I think I-- I understand," he whispered, swallowing.
"Are you afraid of me, Neville?"
Neville didn't like the way Harry said that, like he already knew the answer. He probably wouldn't believe him if he said 'no', either. He was only Neville, after all. Of course he'd be afraid.
There was something hot and insistent that felt like it was stuck somewhere in his chest, but it didn't feel like fear at all. In fact, if Neville didn't know better, he would have thought it was anger.
If Harry kept using his name like that, something was going to happen. He could feel it in his skin, in the prickly pounding of his heart, in his constricted throat. Harry was pushing him, and in the end, Neville didn't like being pushed. Except maybe... by Harry.
"Why should I be?" he said. The steadiness of his voice left something to be desired, overall. "She deserved it."
Harry tilted his head, fleetingly wearing some unnamable expression as he stared at him. Neville could see him pretty well at this distance, and he'd always been pretty good at noticing the relevant details when it counted. So he watched Harry's brows knit and his mouth pucker almost in slow motion, and it would've been cute if Neville wasn't absolutely terrified.
When Harry kissed him, Neville's fingernails dug sharply into his thighs and he made no sound whatsoever. His mouth seemed utterly frozen, like it wasn't his own, and his eyes wouldn't seem to close. He was distantly grateful that he didn't do something completely humiliating like choke on his own spit or moan. His breath had hitched, but that could probably be dismissed as normal. His heart might have stopped there for a second or two or three though, so it was a good thing no one knew much about Neville's heart but Neville.
Harry's eyes were closed behind his glasses, and his mouth was dry and slightly rough. Neville's lips had always been too soft, he knew. Like a girl's.
After it was over, Neville blinked again and again, but the sheer weight of the past few seconds wouldn't lift and go away. He would have thought a thing like that could crush him, but he was still sitting there, staring at Harry. Still not moving, as well.
Good old Neville. Could always be trusted to stick out a difficult situation, they'd say.
Harry still looked rather puzzled, and Neville couldn't imagine why. He was thunderstruck enough for the both of them, unless that wasn't quite the same.
"Are you scared now?" Harry whispered, as if he was asking Neville to tell him a secret. "Tell me the truth." Those eyes were turned on him full strength, and Neville thought he couldn't possibly be enough for what Harry was asking. He'd tried, but this was too much. There were limits to what he could imagine becoming.
"Yes," he rasped.
"Good," Harry nodded. "Me too."
Neville sat there on the stairs for a long time after Harry left the same way he'd come, barely noticing the soft noise of the portrait swinging shut on the other's way out.
He was reminded of being petrified, first year, and still watching the three of them leave, listening to them talk to each other and being unable to do anything whatsoever. He remembered feeling useless and frustrated and quite embarrassed, then, but he was almost certain his chest hadn't ached like this. His lips kept tingling three, four, five minutes later, and Neville thought he'd finally found something he would rather not forget.
Neville got up, groaning as his stiff body uncurled. He would look for Harry because Harry needed him. It was obvious Harry had some things he'd wanted to tell Neville, if Neville had known how to listen. And how hard could one boy be to find, if another didn't stop looking?
Sometimes Neville Longbottom secretly thought he could do anything.
~~
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-06-01 04:22 pm (UTC)Dude, you don't want to hear my Neville mocking. It gets very vile. I mean, I actually read the fic and wrote my comments down but I really don't know how you'd take it. I liked the writing a lot, and I actually see the irony you were talking about and it is very shining (made me smirk, and hope I got it right) but the Neville commentary got very harsh. :( I am uncapable of balance.
no subject
Date: 2004-06-01 06:46 pm (UTC)I take mocking pretty well, given that things don't suck some hopeless manner upon which I would have to commit hara-kiri & never write again. Barring that, I take the vast majority of mocking/comments rather well :D I thought this Neville was self-mocking enough to possibly prevent the harshest criticisms, but :D *is curious!* >:D
Love the icon, ahahahah.
no subject
Date: 2004-06-02 03:46 am (UTC)My C&C started like this:
Sometimes Neville Longbottom secretly hated the world.
The world hates you back, Neville.
So, as I said, am a bit reticent. Ahaha, though it's not all on that note. Like...
So he, Neville, had to be strong enough to make up for all that
Besides the fact that this line sums up everything I hate about Neville, I feel it's very smart. :) Like, I get what other people get from H/N. It's this whole... supporting... sharing... collaboration thing? Which is exactly why I hate it, but at least so far, at least from Neville's part, you're portraying it well.
I like the way thoughts flow in Neville's mind. They feel very natural. Also very youngish, but brave, like he's trying to convince himself and at the same, nodding to his Gran's wisdom.
Neville's pudgy fist was too big to fit into his mouth
Oh, yay on the physical Neville in this fic. Though you're never afraid of unattractiveness. *commends*
So easy and sweet; kind of like forgetting something nasty that wasn't worth remembering anyway.
I like this metaphor! Captures the feeling perfectly. Pretty, too.
It was like Harry had acquired some sort of dark, magnetic pull during their fifth year, and it had only been getting stronger and stronger.
and
He didn't know anyone else who yelled like that-- like they were a breath away from setting fires with their voice alone.
The sexy! The sexy! And so so so totally Harry. Gah, I feel him, so close, like he's here with me, with all his fire. Why oh why isn't he fucking Draco??? Tis not fair.
and Neville thought Harry looked dangerous
Yeah. He's scary. Go away.
And on and on and on. Want more? <3
For the porn, if you want to continue (you don't have to, I mean, I'm loving it, but, I'm feeling that odd feeling of being pushy), I'll make a filtered post? Need to learn how to do it, first, though.
no subject
Date: 2004-06-02 03:58 am (UTC)Oh, totally. *is amused by snarky feedback* more is good >:D I really did think this might make you like Neville a bit more, but alternatively your snarking amuses me~:))
Oh, and... if you wanna do the filtered post thing.... go here (http://www.livejournal.com/friends/editgroups.bml), press "new" and then name the group (the "me" group, heh) something, select "reenka" from the list of usernames and click the ">>", press "private" (I dunno if this is important or not), and then "save changes", and voila! When you post, under the "security level" option, use "custom", after which point you can select the box with the name of the (me) group you'd named. Does that make any sense? heh :>
Also, 'tis fun! Gets ze creative juices flowing, y'know, the back & forth. Whenever I write something, it makes me want to write more and more things, which is prolly why I wrote the H/N, actually >:D
no subject
Date: 2004-06-02 06:27 am (UTC)The Draco mafia is cool because it's a recurring theme from the CoS movie, yay! Do you remember that shot of him as the King of the Slytherin commonroom with his henchmen looking all scary and merciless in the background? Draco's the Godfather of the camp man.
They also sort of remind me of Kill Bill I, I mean, O-Re-Shiin's gang. It's the Yakuza Draco hour. "The price for bringing out my pureblood hieracy as a negative is, I collect your fucking head." Though it's too cool for Draco. Maybe he matured? Argh, no. Organized criminality suits him, though. I just decided this is my favourite fanon Draco incarnation. <3
I like your icon too. Is it Nefeleo's art? *squints*
no subject
Date: 2004-06-02 03:11 pm (UTC)I used to beta that, but I'm so lazy.... I kinda quit by defeault. 8sigh* No one's willing to kick my butt into gear ^^;
Yep, that's Nefeleo. I miss her. meep.
...I'm definitely prejudiced against some things-- usually pairings rather than characters, but yes. Someone would have to be a miracle worker to get me to like Lucius :>
no subject
Date: 2004-06-02 04:05 pm (UTC)We should start a club for people who never get anything done. I think there's some pride to have in that. Like, at least I am not inconclusive about my total inconclusiveness.
no subject
Date: 2004-06-02 04:10 pm (UTC)I hate club-going!H&D. I hate clubs in fanfics. I sometimes think, ONE MORE CLUB IN ONE MORE GODDAMN FIC & I WILL HURT SOMEBODY!! >:O
...probably myself -.-
no subject
Date: 2004-06-02 06:28 am (UTC)Sometimes Neville Longbottom secretly hated the world.
The world hates you back, Neville.
... Okay, like, honest commentary!
(I'm trying to suspend my visceral EWWWWWWW at the thought of Neville getting some, especially from Harry, and IT IS HARD, so be kind. Tolerating. Condescend to me!)
He'd never been a flashy sort; not the kind of bloke who'd cry or whimper at the stray Bludgers life handed him, was he? No, he was a Longbottom, and that meant something. It meant something to his Gran, and it meant something to him. What's more, he was a Gryffindor, no matter what.
But isn't Neville sort of a wuss for a long time, in the books? :/
I like Neville thinking of his Gran. In fact, I like his Gran period, and how you portray her.
He stuffed a fist in his mouth and tried thinking of how good he'd been getting; he'd come in second after Harry in the recent DA hexing competition. He was great. Brilliant, Harry said.
Of course you come second, you moron, JKR likes you!
Thinking of the look in Harry's eyes made Neville queasy, like he'd eaten something that didn't agree with him.
The Harry in this fic makes me queasy as well, actually! I think he scares me just as he scares Neville. Also with the unwanted lust. Or maybe Neville wants it? (Is he searching for a Ginny substitute, btw? How lame of him.)
So he, Neville, had to be strong enough to make up for all that
Besides the fact that this line sums up everything I hate about Neville, I feel it's very smart. :) Like, I get what other people get from H/N. It's this whole... supporting... sharing... collaboration thing? Which is exactly why I hate it, but at least so far, at least from Neville's part, you're portraying it well.
I like the way thoughts flow in Neville's mind. They feel very natural. Also very youngish, but brave, like he's trying to convince himself and at the same, nodding to his Gran's wisdom.
no subject
Date: 2004-06-02 06:28 am (UTC)She dumped him? Ahahaahaha. Ah. Ah.
Uhm. Sorry.
Neville's pudgy fist was too big to fit into his mouth
Oh, yay on the physical Neville in this fic. Though you're never afraid of unattractiveness. *commends*
Even if Ginny had done it out of pity, she'd still done it with sad little Will Putnam, hadn't she?
Oh, ew, even Ginny fucked him? But I love that she did it out of pity. Why else? Though this whole passive-aggressive self-pity Neville is always putting up really irks me.
So easy and sweet; kind of like forgetting something nasty that wasn't worth remembering anyway.
I like this metaphor! Captures the feeling perfectly. Pretty, too.
At least they noticed he was -there- lately, but they still didn't think he felt the same things they did, he was pretty sure.
Dude, if you want to be noticed, try to be funny or something.
He knew he was pudgy and unattractive, though he didn't eat very much. He knew he was awkward and he seemed to do nothing well, and he tried. He really tried.
Who cares! You still don't do it!
No one would've believed that he and Harry were alike, and of course in most ways they weren't.
No, in ALL ways you aren't.
But sometimes Neville laid awake and thought about how Harry had lost his parents too, and about how he never talked about it, and how he looked so lost and sad and confused when he thought no one was looking.
Dude, wishful thinking won't get you anywhere. Oh, wait, you're not getting anywhere anyway.
It was like Harry had acquired some sort of dark, magnetic pull during their fifth year, and it had only been getting stronger and stronger.
and
He didn't know anyone else who yelled like that-- like they were a breath away from setting fires with their voice alone.
The sexy! The sexy! And so so so totally Harry. Gah, I feel him, so close, like he's here with me, with all his fire. Why oh why isn't he fucking Draco??? Tis not fair.
no subject
Date: 2004-06-02 06:29 am (UTC)Yeah. He's scary. Go away.
Harry snorted. "What makes you think I didn't mean to hurt -them-?"
This Harry is so wasted on Neville. Seriously. Though it's good to see his effect on Neville of all people. How Neville tries to adjust. It's well done. :)
"Is that so?" Harry was looking back at him now, and their noses were too close. Did Harry notice that? Because they were. "I have, you know. I used an Unforgivable on that -bitch- that-- that killed Sirius, and-- and I liked it. I liked it."
Yes, yes, yes! This is exactly how I think Harry would tell the story.
So Harry, get ranting. And, you can also crucio Malfoy if you like.
It wasn't about running away, not anymore. He wouldn't leave Harry like this.
Ooooh, so noble. I suppose this is where I fall on my knees and tell him I'm not worthy? I'm sorry, but I just really dislike characters that think things like this one. Makes me froth at the mouth. Like, show-offs. Enjoy thinking of yourself as the good guy, don't you?
"Are you afraid of me, Neville?"
God, I seriously hope Harry was taking the piss with this whole thing. In fact, I am sure he was. Yanking on Neville's chain. See how far he could push him.
When Harry kissed him, Neville's fingernails dug sharply into his thighs and he made no sound whatsoever. His mouth seemed utterly frozen, like it wasn't his own, and his eyes wouldn't seem to close. He was distantly grateful that he didn't do something completely humiliating like choke on his own spit or moan. His breath had hitched, but that could probably be dismissed as normal. His heart might have stopped there for a second or two or three though, so it was a good thing no one knew much about Neville's heart but Neville.
You know, if this kiss hadn't featured Neville, I would have liked it a lot. Intellectually, I like it a lot. The ickiness factor is all there, the awkwardness, weirdness, fear - and I like bad sex and bad snogging.
But... Neville.
"Are you scared now?" Harry whispered, as if he was asking Neville to tell him a secret. "Tell me the truth." Those eyes were turned on him full strength, and Neville thought he couldn't possibly be enough for what Harry was asking. He'd tried, but this was too much. There were limits to what he could imagine becoming.
"Yes," he rasped.
"Good," Harry nodded. "Me too."
I really hate how poignant this passage is. I hope Harry isn't meaning he's scared of having feelings for Neville. I hope he just meant he has proven his point (though, why was he puzzled?) and made Neville understand what being scared really meant. Yeah, I like my delusional disorder, it's shiny.
It was obvious Harry had some things he'd wanted to tell Neville, if Neville had known how to listen.
This is Neville deluding himself, isn't it? I mean, I am not bashing him here, actually, I'm just wondering if the irony you alluded to before about the last line is this. :)
no subject
Date: 2004-06-02 03:35 pm (UTC)Really? Harry made you queasy?? Oh man. I think I'm proud or something :> Well, y'know, he's always "liked" Harry, though I dunno if he's -queer- exactly, but then, uh. I was trying to hint he -did- want Harry and was trying to use Ginny as a snog-giver. All that stuff about not wanting her & having to be honest with himself, y'know.
Also. Duuuuuuuuuuude, the idea of canonish!Harry using Crucio on Malfoy just.... upsets me :( WAH. HARRY :( (Isn't it sad that I feel bad for Harry instead of Malfoy? Ahahahah)
I was thinking Gryffindors enjoy thinking of themselves as the good guy just as Slytherins would enjoy thinking of themselves as the bad nasty guy or whatever. Hah. It's like, they're such incestuous flip-sides of the same coin. DUDE I WANNA WRITE SALAZAR/GODRIC, if only I had a plot!! Woe!! THEY'D BE SO HOT TOGETHER!! :((!! Wah. Like. Can't you see it? I mean... it's not Harry/Draco-- it's like, more basic. Mmmm, symbolic!sex. Heh.
Funny thing is, usually when I write Harry&Draco kissing, I go way over the top with the hotness & the saliva & the OMG THE WORLD IS ENDING OMG SEX!! of it all (prolly 'cause it's so hot to -me- or something). *sigh* I really do need 'critical distance' to be realistic a lot of times.
I was totally having Harry teach Neville a lesson in fear somewhat, yes, but like... um. On the other hand, Harry really isn't -that- manipulative, so he was puzzled that he did it, and just... the unnamable weirdness of how he feels in general. Harry prolly confuses himself a lot. I mean, he just kissed a boy, didn't he? What the hell, y'know? He prolly did it 'cause he wanted to, too, and he prolly could tell.
I don't think Harry -did- have anything to tell Neville, really, but I think he could, theoretically, because Neville's so non-threatening and also because eventually they -would- have to talk or whatever, what with all the prophecy junk.
One of my biggest kinks with H/D is getting them to talk civilly. It's sad :>
no subject
Date: 2004-06-02 04:00 pm (UTC)Yes! He made me queasy! He tends to do that. :D You also write him very well. Seems to me that a lot of Harry lover have huge... delusions about his characters. But you don't! You love his whole him! That's like me and Draco, ahaha. We should feel superior together and pat each other on the back, or something.
Can you believe it's 1 am here and I've just eat an entire block of feta all by myself? I am so pathetic. Mmmh, do you have aim?
Don't feel bad for the Harry pain. I understand your Harry pain. Harry crucio-ing Draco is one bulletproof kink of mine, I mean, if I ever get around to write my H/D fic, it'll have it for sure. And every time, it's all about the Harry. Draco is most like a symbol, more like an object. I also feel funny because I'm always defending Harry to my friends - that is SO WEIRD - cause they're like, Ron and Sirius lover who think Harry's a little privileged super-human creature that never does anything funny. Unlike Draco and his gang, whom they like for the funny. So in the fandom I am always rolling my eyes at blind Harry fans who white-wash him to the point where he's unrecognizable to me, and when I am with my friend I always have to try to guilt-trip them into liking him.
Yanno, the Salazar/Godric sounds very neat. Especially if you managed to parallel it with H/D BECAUSE NOTHING IS GOOD UNLESS IT HAS H/D IN IT! Ahah, okay, obsessiveness aside, I think a parallel between symbol and real would be cool. But, you know, if you wrote it I'd read it anyway.
But the Slytherins think of themselves as the good guys too! Which makes them less annoying because at least in their case authorial voice is always rebuffing them.
You should write a sequel to this fic where you make clear Neville like totally passes under Harry's radar. Cough. Joking. I actually wrote a sequel. But, don't worry. I won't plagiarise you.
Our H/D will marry and have 2.5 Hyppogryffs. Except for the marriage part.
no subject
Date: 2004-06-02 04:22 pm (UTC)Basing a House on bravery & boldness is also tres lame (don't even get me started on the virtues of cunning & so on). Ravenclaw is prolly the least lame House, but it's also boring, heh.
In my mind, Godric & Salazar aren't totally symbols, y'know... like, if I wrote it, they'd be people. This is pretty skewed by the Draco Trilogy, however, where Godric & Salazar -are- together (AHAHAH YOU CAN SO TELL CASSIE IS AN H/D SHIPPER). Anyway, I'm prolly heavily borrowing from Cassie Claire, there. And also... the little bit of their story in the song in OoTP, y'know-- the whole betrayal issue, how they were close as brothers. ACK. They were just. In love. I just KNOW IT IN MY BONES. And Salazar! Now -there- is a hot Slytherin. With Snape's bitterness but without his self-doubt, y'know, with Riddle's obvious power & charm but without his overt psychosis. *siiigh* It's great.
And Godric! He reminds me of James Kirk, a little, y'know? With his bumbling naivete and battle-lust & insane enthusiasm & forthright sincerity & so on. Simple-minded, a bit, but strong & sexy I imagine, and Godric prolly hated himself for wanting such a deluded fool or whatever, but Godric must've had a lot of natural magnetism & fire that Salazar couldn't resist, etc. Hmmmm. I like the parallel idea, but I shy away from things that are too complex ^^; Heh. I just, love the idea of how exciting it must've been to live in that time, y'know? So dramatic, so... new. Kinda sad, too. Wah. *sigh*
I don't think Neville could totally pass under Harry's radar, not after he found out about the prophecy, man ^^;
A lot of pro-minor-character people think Harry is boring or whatever. Wah. Admittedly, I only -really- adored him in OoTP where he's... not boring -or- goody-goody (mmm, angst), but... they just Don't Understand. He was always like that-- he was always so fiery & unreasonable, like the way he treated Dudley in the first book with the snakes, y'know? He's a vindictive little boy :D *pets him* And yet he's so needy and vulnerable and he won't accept things unless they're -true- and. Awwww, Harry. I'm all protective of him~:)
Heheh I have aim-- my username's "zutto reenka" but I'm rather rarely on 'cause like, I never get anything else done if I chat :>
>:O
Date: 2004-06-01 11:56 pm (UTC)>:OOOO
*cries*
(ps Can't find your porn. Much sadness, as your porn is hot.)
Re: >:O
Date: 2004-06-02 03:50 am (UTC)I'll give you a link to the porn when I've polished it!