Fic: Stumbled Upon a Git
Title: Stumbled Upon a Git
Username: nia_kantorka
Pairing: Neville/Harry
Type: Slash
Prompt #: 27 - One of those silly Gryffindor stories where they don't like Ginny's new boyfriend and plot together to break them apart realizing that they might just like each other...
Rating: R
Word Count: ~2.8k
Warnings/content: none
Summary: How Neville and Harry got rid of their ex-girlfriend's boyfriend in no time and stumbled into each other's arms on the way.
Notes: This fic man. This fic was like paste and it was such a struggle to extract the words from the glued mass in my brain. Didn't help that the Muse was absent for some time and wasn't at her best when she finally paid a visit- I managed in the end. Dig, I wanted to write something for you for a long time now. Hope you'll have some fun. Thank the deities for my alpha and beta reader! Once again your help was invaluable and, let's be honest, no fic of mine would ever be presentable without your feedback.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters/references are property of JK Rowling and associates. No copyright infringement is intended.
"Hi mate."
Harry put two pints on the table, slid next to him into the booth and patted Neville's shoulder.
"Hey Harry."
"What's up?"
Neville had to grin at that. It was so Harry to skip all pleasantries and come straight to the point.
"Have you met Ginny's new boyfriend, yet? Warburton, the pompous twat?"
"Wow, Neville. He must be a real arse if you, our Mr Patience, are calling him a twat. But no, I haven't had the pleasure so far. I'm invited to Sunday's lunch at the Burrow though and will meet him there. Do I need to prepare myself for the worst?"
Harry was grinning and Neville shrugged his shoulders. He didn't want to spoil Harry's cheerfulness tonight. The poor sod would meet Warburton, the insufferable git, soon enough.
Neville took Harry's relaxed posture in, the laugh lines around his bright green eyes and the casualness with which he had put his attire together; a washed out pair of khaki baggy pants, a mustard yellow tee and a light grey hoodie.
"You're not wearing your tight look-at-me-trousers, so I assume you've got off with someone lately. Who was it? Griselda from the Department of Mysteries or Wayne from Games and Sports?"
Neville watched Harry's blush approaching and grinned.
"How do you know?"
"Seriously Harry, we've been friends for fifteen years now, we shared a dorm and a flat right after school. You helped me after the break-up with Hannah and the one with Ginny. I would think, I'm your best mate next to Ron and Hermione. And you're asking me how I know what you look like when you've got laid?"
"I didn't get laid, but I had a nice groping session with Wayne at Luna's party last weekend. Where have you been, Nev? We missed you."
"Didn't I tell you about the Scottish Annual Meeting of the Botanical Society of the British Isles in Edinburgh? My paper won a prize. But don't change the topic, Harry. I know you're not that interested in Herbology. Tell me. Is Wayne really as hung as everybody says?"
"Where do you get all those juicy bits of information about my Ministry co-workers?" Harry was visibly torn between laughter and indignation.
"Ah, mate. Look at me. I have this wonderful trust-me-face which does it. People just tell me things." Neville wiggled an eyebrow at Harry who chuckled in response.
"I see. I hope nobody knows how you're treating their deepest secrets."
"Oh, I'm wounded. And I only tell you about stuff that has something to do with you. Aka Wayne's cock size."
"Neville! Shush."
"Harry, I'm not shouting. You're just paranoid and I have fun teasing you. Though I am curious."
"Well, if you must know, his cock isn't as big as Ron's...or yours."
Unbidden a picture of a naked and very hung younger Harry sprang to live before Neville's eyes, and he felt a blush creeping up his cheeks.
The silence between them lasted just that second too long to become awkward.
-----
Neville landed in front of the fireplace with a woosh and looked around. No Harry to be seen.
"Harry?"
"Wait a sec, Nev. I'm coming."
Neville took a seat on Harry's big and cozy sofa. It was coated with a crazy quilt à la Luna. Harry's was patched in various shades of blue. Twined glimmering yarn was embroidered with fishes, seaweed, dolphins, and merpeople. The imbedded magic let wool and twine ripple like water and the brunette mermaid he saw out of the corner of his eye might had just winked at him. Neville's own quilt showed an autumn forest with all shades of yellow, orange, red, brown and green, and all animals living in such a scenery. His favourite was the nut collecting red squirrel he'd named Edgar.
"You were right."
Lost in his musings Neville hadn't heard Harry coming near and it took him by surprise to see him standing only two feet away. Neville's gaze swept up and down his body and up again. Harry had had a shower and was wearing only a pair of jeans and...nothing else. Neville's throat went dry as his eyes followed droplets of water dripping from wet black hair onto a bare chest. A small rivulet trickled down midclavicle through a fine layer of frizzy hair over a pinkish brown nipple that got hard from the contact. Harry's skin glistened wet around his neck, collarbones and in the hollow of his throat, and Neville felt the urgent need to...taste it; to lick over bones and smooth skin to collect every drop from Harry's body like a Tillansidia would absorb water molecules out of the air.
"Neville?"
"Umh...yes?"
"I agree with you on Warburton. He's horrible. I don't know what Ginny's thinking. How can she be with someone who offends her mother's cooking by calling it plain and rural? He implied George's shop will go down the drain if he doesn't expand soon. As if that dork had ever worked with his bare hands or knew anything about managing a business. He insulted Luna - though she thankfully didn't hear him - for just sitting there lost in one of her daydreams."
Harry choked on a disturbingly helpless laugh similar to the sounds bubbling in Neville's guts whenever he thought about his experiences with Warburton.
When they had met some weeks ago, Warburton had scrutinised him with fathomless dark brown eyes and uttered his astonishment that someone as nerdy as Neville, who talked about plants the whole time, had been capable of swinging Gryffindor's sword. Neville had only stared back relentlessly until the git retreated hastily back to Ginny's side- but the comment had stung.
His focus turned back to Harry who ranted on.
"He had the nerve to ask me how I defeated Voldemort as I'm obviously such a little twerp. Even Ginny looked embarrassed after that one. Seriously, he was even worse than Malfoy during our Hogwart's years. And I never thought that'd be possible."
Neville wholeheartedly agreed with Harry on the topic of one Warburton Bancroft the Fourth and that he was even worse than Malfoy had been back in the days.
"Told you so, didn't I?"
"Yes, and I'm sorry for not having taken you seriously. We have to get rid of Warburton as soon as possible. For all our sakes and Ginny's in particular. That's why I firecalled you. By the way, thanks for stopping by on such short notice."
Harry flopped down next to him on the sofa, with a short handclasp on Neville's thigh as a thankful gesture. His fleeting touch was warm and sent a wave of heat up Neville's leg. It was sizzling in his belly, along his spine, creeping up his cheeks. He took a deep breath to get a grip on himself.
"What do you have in mind?" He cringed inwardly about the raspy and breathless tone of his voice.
It seemed impossible. His whole body was on fire because of a brief touch... from Harry... one of his oldest friends. Who sat currently next to him with barely any clothes on. Whose freshly showered body fragrance hit Neville's nostrils with a swirl of cut wet grass after a summer rain. Who made him want though he never thought of a man like this before.
It was like foundering in a sea of tumbling thoughts, waves of desire breaking above his head, leaving him gasping for air. A broken sound escaped his mouth.
"Hey, what's wrong?"
Harry turned, reaching for his shoulders and shaking him lightly.
"Talk to me. Come on, Nev. Are you feeling dizzy? Sick? Better lie down for a minute."
Harry's firm body pushed him backwards in one fluent motion until his back met the sofa cushions. His hands grabbed Neville's calves and pushed his feet onto the rest. Harry bent over his torso, concerned green eyes locked their gaze with his.
"Nnnn...I'm okay Harry. It's fine," he said while his brain screamed, "nothing's fine. I'm having a sexual crisis over my best friend and if he doesn't back up soon, I'm going to molest him in all likelihood. He closed his eyes and whispered, "could you get me something to drink, please. A glass of water?"
"Of course. Wait a sec."
Harry's hands dropped off his shoulders and another wave of the fresh grassy fragrance washed over Neville while he padded away. Neville took some deep but shaky breaths. His face felt flushed, his body like set on fire and his prick was nearly rock hard.
"That's wonderful," he mumbled to himself while he tried to will his hard-on away by thinking of Stinking Cacti, Pungeous Onions and blossoming Voodoo lilies.
"What's wonderful?"
Neville opened his eyes and saw Harry approaching his side with a glass of water in one hand and his wand in the other. Half sitting up Neville took the offered glass. The tips of their fingers brushed; hot skin met over cold even glass and all air left Neville's lungs. He didn't dare to look into his friend's eyes while Harry slid down on a small patch of sofa right next to the crook of his waist. Neville gulped the water down because it gave him something to do.
They were sitting closer than ever and Harry's thigh rested against his ribs, arse against his waist.The blazing eyes looked at his face. Shit. Desperate for a distraction yet again he focused his gaze on the empty glass in his hands.
"Neville?"
"Yes?"
"You know, I might have an idea how we could get rid of Warburton,. But right now I couldn't care less about that dork, to be honest."
Neville put the glass on the floor to avoid Harry's gaze some more.
"Nev?"
"Mmh?"
"Oh, for the love of Merlin, would you please look at me." Harry's voice held a blend of plea, exasperation and fondness. Hearing it, gave Neville the courage to look into Harry's eyes.
For half a minute...or an eternity... neither of them spoke. Then Harry said, "I get why everyone is fascinated by green eyes."
Neville cracked up because it all was so surreal; getting compliments for the colour of his eyes by Mr Emerald Eyes himself, Harry nearly sitting on his lap though half the couch was unoccupied, and himself feeling warm, fuzzy and excited in combination with a healthy dose of fear.
"Nev, look, I don't know how to say this. We've been friends for such a long time and I love you dearly as my mate. You became my confident about all things in life when Ron and Hermione started their family."
Harry ran his fingers through his hair making even more of a mess of it than usual. Then he let his hand drop on Neville's lower arm; skin brushing over skin...again. And Harry carried on.
"Something shifted when we met last week. Did you feel it too? It was and is exhilarating and terrifying at the same time- as if you've become someone unfamiliar. Though I do know you, but not like I want anymore."
Lost for words, Neville could only nod to encourage Harry to keep going.
"You know, I want more and I'm not even sure you feel the same. On the other hand you reaction just now seemed pretty obvious. I have no clue where to go from here or how to carry on. You've only ever been with women. God, I don't know what to do…"
Harry's rambling flooded him with relief; at least he wasn't the only one feeling self-conscious. Neville licked his lips once, nervous. It stopped Harry dead in his tracks, leaving him staring wantonly at his mouth. Neville rushed forwards, closing the little gap between their heads until his lips collided with Harry's. They were pliant and opened under the pressure of his onslaught. When their tongues met, all fierceness left him and he relished Harry's soft, minty-wet mouth.
Neville heard the clattering of a wand falling to the ground, but he couldn't care any less about wands, or magic, or anything. Only about Harry's divine lips on his. He pulled Harry down with him, back into the sofa cushions.
-----
Harry chuckled next to him on the sofa while Neville's Cleansing Charms got rid of both their sticky pants and jeans. Harry's good mood was contagious and it was a bit hilarious how thankful he was for being a wizard at the moment and not having to get up to clean their mess.
"What was that about having an idea to get rid of the git?" Neville asked while they cuddled up on the quilt, his hand whispering down Harry's soft flank, all the way from his ribs to his hips and back.
"There's this old song I'm thinking about. It's called 50 ways to Lose Your Lover and we could take that as an inspiration. You know, it might be successful to show Warburton all the things he should get used to when one gets involved with a Weasley."
"Oh. That's positively devious! I remember you telling me once about nearly having been sorted into Slytherin. I see where the hat got its idea from." He chuckled.
Harry's eyes were glinting mischievously, his smile more dangerous than playful, and Neville was glad he wasn't in Warburton's shoes. Then he thought about all the things they could make Warburton do and his own blooming smile looked probably as feral as Harry's.
"Ah, I see your mind has started to work out on our get rid of the lover programme," Harry chuckled, and grabbed for Neville's neck to pull him into another kiss. Soon arousal was spreading through his body again and all cohesive thoughts fled from Neville's mind.
-----
Three weeks later
Harry's plan did work and they got rid of Warburton. Cunningly, they all worked together, one after the other claiming to need Warburton's great expertise for some or another of their daily tasks.
George had needed his help at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Some card boxes of Exploding Pops had been ruined, with the pops scattered all over the shop and Diagon Alley. The trick about that wonderful, new invention was that they wouldn't pop until they were picked up by hands (some chemical reaction to contact with skin, Neville surmised). Of course everybody at Wheezes' knew this and put on gloves to prevent their popping; Warburton didn't. So he got showered with glue, glitter, sawdust, neon paint, confetti and all the little flying things the pops contained. George had taken a picture of a coated and very pissed Warburton, and they all had a good laugh whenever they looked at him trying to brush a pile of sparkling junk from his robes.
Harry had invited him to be his duelling partner during his yearly DADA duelling lesson at Hogwarts. Of course, only because Hugo had been ill and Ron couldn't attend as he normally would as Harry's partner. Neville wasn't sure how much any of the kids had learned during that lesson. Harry had shared his memory and it was quite a sight to see Warburton getting hit by hex after hex breaching his wobbly shield. Shortly after, he'd started ducking and cowering behind desks, chairs, even pupils- the whole time squealing, while the students roared with laughter.
Luna had recruited him to search Flubbery Fairies with her. Those lime green fairies could only be found during new moon nights in moor and marsh lands. Warburton had looked like a muddy drowned rat the next morning. Luna had capped it all by thanking him, big blue eyes blinking, and saying that she was so sorry about the fairies who were nowhere to be found and that they probably hadn't showed up because they didn't know Warburton. And that she would gladly take him out again the next new moon. Whenever she blinked excessively with her eyelashes nowadays in that excessive way, everyone giggled reflexively- their smart and innocent looking friend was, surprisingly, an excellent actress.
Molly had encouraged Warburton to cook a five-course haute-cuisine dinner for her family and some friends. He had sweated blood- figuratively and literally because he'd nearly cut off some fingers. The meal hadn't been bad, though much too fanciful for his and Harry's taste. It had been good to see Warburton's face fall when they'd told him so.
His own task had been the last before Warburton gave up on Ginny. He still smiled a devilish grin (the one Harry loved to see when they got up to do all things naughty) when he thought about Warburton trying to help him repot half a greenhouse full of baby Devil's Snare, Fanged Geraniums and Venomous Tentacula. All the plants had been to young to cause real harm, yet Warburton had been littered with cuts, scrapes and strangulation marks. Afterwards he'd to ensure that the dizzied and drugged wizard reached his home safely.
Neville wasn't sad that they never saw him again.
Username: nia_kantorka
Pairing: Neville/Harry
Type: Slash
Prompt #: 27 - One of those silly Gryffindor stories where they don't like Ginny's new boyfriend and plot together to break them apart realizing that they might just like each other...
Rating: R
Word Count: ~2.8k
Warnings/content: none
Summary: How Neville and Harry got rid of their ex-girlfriend's boyfriend in no time and stumbled into each other's arms on the way.
Notes: This fic man. This fic was like paste and it was such a struggle to extract the words from the glued mass in my brain. Didn't help that the Muse was absent for some time and wasn't at her best when she finally paid a visit- I managed in the end. Dig, I wanted to write something for you for a long time now. Hope you'll have some fun. Thank the deities for my alpha and beta reader! Once again your help was invaluable and, let's be honest, no fic of mine would ever be presentable without your feedback.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters/references are property of JK Rowling and associates. No copyright infringement is intended.
"Hi mate."
Harry put two pints on the table, slid next to him into the booth and patted Neville's shoulder.
"Hey Harry."
"What's up?"
Neville had to grin at that. It was so Harry to skip all pleasantries and come straight to the point.
"Have you met Ginny's new boyfriend, yet? Warburton, the pompous twat?"
"Wow, Neville. He must be a real arse if you, our Mr Patience, are calling him a twat. But no, I haven't had the pleasure so far. I'm invited to Sunday's lunch at the Burrow though and will meet him there. Do I need to prepare myself for the worst?"
Harry was grinning and Neville shrugged his shoulders. He didn't want to spoil Harry's cheerfulness tonight. The poor sod would meet Warburton, the insufferable git, soon enough.
Neville took Harry's relaxed posture in, the laugh lines around his bright green eyes and the casualness with which he had put his attire together; a washed out pair of khaki baggy pants, a mustard yellow tee and a light grey hoodie.
"You're not wearing your tight look-at-me-trousers, so I assume you've got off with someone lately. Who was it? Griselda from the Department of Mysteries or Wayne from Games and Sports?"
Neville watched Harry's blush approaching and grinned.
"How do you know?"
"Seriously Harry, we've been friends for fifteen years now, we shared a dorm and a flat right after school. You helped me after the break-up with Hannah and the one with Ginny. I would think, I'm your best mate next to Ron and Hermione. And you're asking me how I know what you look like when you've got laid?"
"I didn't get laid, but I had a nice groping session with Wayne at Luna's party last weekend. Where have you been, Nev? We missed you."
"Didn't I tell you about the Scottish Annual Meeting of the Botanical Society of the British Isles in Edinburgh? My paper won a prize. But don't change the topic, Harry. I know you're not that interested in Herbology. Tell me. Is Wayne really as hung as everybody says?"
"Where do you get all those juicy bits of information about my Ministry co-workers?" Harry was visibly torn between laughter and indignation.
"Ah, mate. Look at me. I have this wonderful trust-me-face which does it. People just tell me things." Neville wiggled an eyebrow at Harry who chuckled in response.
"I see. I hope nobody knows how you're treating their deepest secrets."
"Oh, I'm wounded. And I only tell you about stuff that has something to do with you. Aka Wayne's cock size."
"Neville! Shush."
"Harry, I'm not shouting. You're just paranoid and I have fun teasing you. Though I am curious."
"Well, if you must know, his cock isn't as big as Ron's...or yours."
Unbidden a picture of a naked and very hung younger Harry sprang to live before Neville's eyes, and he felt a blush creeping up his cheeks.
The silence between them lasted just that second too long to become awkward.
-----
Neville landed in front of the fireplace with a woosh and looked around. No Harry to be seen.
"Harry?"
"Wait a sec, Nev. I'm coming."
Neville took a seat on Harry's big and cozy sofa. It was coated with a crazy quilt à la Luna. Harry's was patched in various shades of blue. Twined glimmering yarn was embroidered with fishes, seaweed, dolphins, and merpeople. The imbedded magic let wool and twine ripple like water and the brunette mermaid he saw out of the corner of his eye might had just winked at him. Neville's own quilt showed an autumn forest with all shades of yellow, orange, red, brown and green, and all animals living in such a scenery. His favourite was the nut collecting red squirrel he'd named Edgar.
"You were right."
Lost in his musings Neville hadn't heard Harry coming near and it took him by surprise to see him standing only two feet away. Neville's gaze swept up and down his body and up again. Harry had had a shower and was wearing only a pair of jeans and...nothing else. Neville's throat went dry as his eyes followed droplets of water dripping from wet black hair onto a bare chest. A small rivulet trickled down midclavicle through a fine layer of frizzy hair over a pinkish brown nipple that got hard from the contact. Harry's skin glistened wet around his neck, collarbones and in the hollow of his throat, and Neville felt the urgent need to...taste it; to lick over bones and smooth skin to collect every drop from Harry's body like a Tillansidia would absorb water molecules out of the air.
"Neville?"
"Umh...yes?"
"I agree with you on Warburton. He's horrible. I don't know what Ginny's thinking. How can she be with someone who offends her mother's cooking by calling it plain and rural? He implied George's shop will go down the drain if he doesn't expand soon. As if that dork had ever worked with his bare hands or knew anything about managing a business. He insulted Luna - though she thankfully didn't hear him - for just sitting there lost in one of her daydreams."
Harry choked on a disturbingly helpless laugh similar to the sounds bubbling in Neville's guts whenever he thought about his experiences with Warburton.
When they had met some weeks ago, Warburton had scrutinised him with fathomless dark brown eyes and uttered his astonishment that someone as nerdy as Neville, who talked about plants the whole time, had been capable of swinging Gryffindor's sword. Neville had only stared back relentlessly until the git retreated hastily back to Ginny's side- but the comment had stung.
His focus turned back to Harry who ranted on.
"He had the nerve to ask me how I defeated Voldemort as I'm obviously such a little twerp. Even Ginny looked embarrassed after that one. Seriously, he was even worse than Malfoy during our Hogwart's years. And I never thought that'd be possible."
Neville wholeheartedly agreed with Harry on the topic of one Warburton Bancroft the Fourth and that he was even worse than Malfoy had been back in the days.
"Told you so, didn't I?"
"Yes, and I'm sorry for not having taken you seriously. We have to get rid of Warburton as soon as possible. For all our sakes and Ginny's in particular. That's why I firecalled you. By the way, thanks for stopping by on such short notice."
Harry flopped down next to him on the sofa, with a short handclasp on Neville's thigh as a thankful gesture. His fleeting touch was warm and sent a wave of heat up Neville's leg. It was sizzling in his belly, along his spine, creeping up his cheeks. He took a deep breath to get a grip on himself.
"What do you have in mind?" He cringed inwardly about the raspy and breathless tone of his voice.
It seemed impossible. His whole body was on fire because of a brief touch... from Harry... one of his oldest friends. Who sat currently next to him with barely any clothes on. Whose freshly showered body fragrance hit Neville's nostrils with a swirl of cut wet grass after a summer rain. Who made him want though he never thought of a man like this before.
It was like foundering in a sea of tumbling thoughts, waves of desire breaking above his head, leaving him gasping for air. A broken sound escaped his mouth.
"Hey, what's wrong?"
Harry turned, reaching for his shoulders and shaking him lightly.
"Talk to me. Come on, Nev. Are you feeling dizzy? Sick? Better lie down for a minute."
Harry's firm body pushed him backwards in one fluent motion until his back met the sofa cushions. His hands grabbed Neville's calves and pushed his feet onto the rest. Harry bent over his torso, concerned green eyes locked their gaze with his.
"Nnnn...I'm okay Harry. It's fine," he said while his brain screamed, "nothing's fine. I'm having a sexual crisis over my best friend and if he doesn't back up soon, I'm going to molest him in all likelihood. He closed his eyes and whispered, "could you get me something to drink, please. A glass of water?"
"Of course. Wait a sec."
Harry's hands dropped off his shoulders and another wave of the fresh grassy fragrance washed over Neville while he padded away. Neville took some deep but shaky breaths. His face felt flushed, his body like set on fire and his prick was nearly rock hard.
"That's wonderful," he mumbled to himself while he tried to will his hard-on away by thinking of Stinking Cacti, Pungeous Onions and blossoming Voodoo lilies.
"What's wonderful?"
Neville opened his eyes and saw Harry approaching his side with a glass of water in one hand and his wand in the other. Half sitting up Neville took the offered glass. The tips of their fingers brushed; hot skin met over cold even glass and all air left Neville's lungs. He didn't dare to look into his friend's eyes while Harry slid down on a small patch of sofa right next to the crook of his waist. Neville gulped the water down because it gave him something to do.
They were sitting closer than ever and Harry's thigh rested against his ribs, arse against his waist.The blazing eyes looked at his face. Shit. Desperate for a distraction yet again he focused his gaze on the empty glass in his hands.
"Neville?"
"Yes?"
"You know, I might have an idea how we could get rid of Warburton,. But right now I couldn't care less about that dork, to be honest."
Neville put the glass on the floor to avoid Harry's gaze some more.
"Nev?"
"Mmh?"
"Oh, for the love of Merlin, would you please look at me." Harry's voice held a blend of plea, exasperation and fondness. Hearing it, gave Neville the courage to look into Harry's eyes.
For half a minute...or an eternity... neither of them spoke. Then Harry said, "I get why everyone is fascinated by green eyes."
Neville cracked up because it all was so surreal; getting compliments for the colour of his eyes by Mr Emerald Eyes himself, Harry nearly sitting on his lap though half the couch was unoccupied, and himself feeling warm, fuzzy and excited in combination with a healthy dose of fear.
"Nev, look, I don't know how to say this. We've been friends for such a long time and I love you dearly as my mate. You became my confident about all things in life when Ron and Hermione started their family."
Harry ran his fingers through his hair making even more of a mess of it than usual. Then he let his hand drop on Neville's lower arm; skin brushing over skin...again. And Harry carried on.
"Something shifted when we met last week. Did you feel it too? It was and is exhilarating and terrifying at the same time- as if you've become someone unfamiliar. Though I do know you, but not like I want anymore."
Lost for words, Neville could only nod to encourage Harry to keep going.
"You know, I want more and I'm not even sure you feel the same. On the other hand you reaction just now seemed pretty obvious. I have no clue where to go from here or how to carry on. You've only ever been with women. God, I don't know what to do…"
Harry's rambling flooded him with relief; at least he wasn't the only one feeling self-conscious. Neville licked his lips once, nervous. It stopped Harry dead in his tracks, leaving him staring wantonly at his mouth. Neville rushed forwards, closing the little gap between their heads until his lips collided with Harry's. They were pliant and opened under the pressure of his onslaught. When their tongues met, all fierceness left him and he relished Harry's soft, minty-wet mouth.
Neville heard the clattering of a wand falling to the ground, but he couldn't care any less about wands, or magic, or anything. Only about Harry's divine lips on his. He pulled Harry down with him, back into the sofa cushions.
-----
Harry chuckled next to him on the sofa while Neville's Cleansing Charms got rid of both their sticky pants and jeans. Harry's good mood was contagious and it was a bit hilarious how thankful he was for being a wizard at the moment and not having to get up to clean their mess.
"What was that about having an idea to get rid of the git?" Neville asked while they cuddled up on the quilt, his hand whispering down Harry's soft flank, all the way from his ribs to his hips and back.
"There's this old song I'm thinking about. It's called 50 ways to Lose Your Lover and we could take that as an inspiration. You know, it might be successful to show Warburton all the things he should get used to when one gets involved with a Weasley."
"Oh. That's positively devious! I remember you telling me once about nearly having been sorted into Slytherin. I see where the hat got its idea from." He chuckled.
Harry's eyes were glinting mischievously, his smile more dangerous than playful, and Neville was glad he wasn't in Warburton's shoes. Then he thought about all the things they could make Warburton do and his own blooming smile looked probably as feral as Harry's.
"Ah, I see your mind has started to work out on our get rid of the lover programme," Harry chuckled, and grabbed for Neville's neck to pull him into another kiss. Soon arousal was spreading through his body again and all cohesive thoughts fled from Neville's mind.
-----
Three weeks later
Harry's plan did work and they got rid of Warburton. Cunningly, they all worked together, one after the other claiming to need Warburton's great expertise for some or another of their daily tasks.
George had needed his help at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Some card boxes of Exploding Pops had been ruined, with the pops scattered all over the shop and Diagon Alley. The trick about that wonderful, new invention was that they wouldn't pop until they were picked up by hands (some chemical reaction to contact with skin, Neville surmised). Of course everybody at Wheezes' knew this and put on gloves to prevent their popping; Warburton didn't. So he got showered with glue, glitter, sawdust, neon paint, confetti and all the little flying things the pops contained. George had taken a picture of a coated and very pissed Warburton, and they all had a good laugh whenever they looked at him trying to brush a pile of sparkling junk from his robes.
Harry had invited him to be his duelling partner during his yearly DADA duelling lesson at Hogwarts. Of course, only because Hugo had been ill and Ron couldn't attend as he normally would as Harry's partner. Neville wasn't sure how much any of the kids had learned during that lesson. Harry had shared his memory and it was quite a sight to see Warburton getting hit by hex after hex breaching his wobbly shield. Shortly after, he'd started ducking and cowering behind desks, chairs, even pupils- the whole time squealing, while the students roared with laughter.
Luna had recruited him to search Flubbery Fairies with her. Those lime green fairies could only be found during new moon nights in moor and marsh lands. Warburton had looked like a muddy drowned rat the next morning. Luna had capped it all by thanking him, big blue eyes blinking, and saying that she was so sorry about the fairies who were nowhere to be found and that they probably hadn't showed up because they didn't know Warburton. And that she would gladly take him out again the next new moon. Whenever she blinked excessively with her eyelashes nowadays in that excessive way, everyone giggled reflexively- their smart and innocent looking friend was, surprisingly, an excellent actress.
Molly had encouraged Warburton to cook a five-course haute-cuisine dinner for her family and some friends. He had sweated blood- figuratively and literally because he'd nearly cut off some fingers. The meal hadn't been bad, though much too fanciful for his and Harry's taste. It had been good to see Warburton's face fall when they'd told him so.
His own task had been the last before Warburton gave up on Ginny. He still smiled a devilish grin (the one Harry loved to see when they got up to do all things naughty) when he thought about Warburton trying to help him repot half a greenhouse full of baby Devil's Snare, Fanged Geraniums and Venomous Tentacula. All the plants had been to young to cause real harm, yet Warburton had been littered with cuts, scrapes and strangulation marks. Afterwards he'd to ensure that the dizzied and drugged wizard reached his home safely.
Neville wasn't sad that they never saw him again.