FIC: The Courage Tree [Neville/Draco]
Title: The Courage Tree
Author: rzzmg
Prompt: S3 by shiftylinguini
Pairing(s): Neville/Draco
Word Count: ~5K
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): Explicit slash sexual situations, explicit profanity, first time regrets
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Thank you so much to my beta, “gjeangirl”! This one is dedicated to you! This is my first time shipping this couple. I hope you like! Title comes from something my mother used to say to me: life is a tree, and each branch is an event that brings you close to the person you are meant to be. You just have to have the courage to climb, and you will discover your destiny.
Summary: Neville’s fallen head-over heels for his Hogwarts co-worker, but he’s lacking the necessary courage at the moment to discover if those feelings could be reciprocated or not. When Draco volunteers to help Neville save his plants in the greenhouse from an unexpected and lingering heatwave, however, this just may be fate knocking on Neville’s door…
~.~.~.~.~
Whatever courage he’d had when he’d been a reckless teenager facing down Death Eaters, it had fled by the time Neville was twenty-one and walked out of his first gay bar.
He’d gone home that stiflingly hot summer night a little tipsy from too much vodka, no longer a virgin, and humiliated that he’d let himself be fucked in the loo by a man named Gerald who’d literally given him the kiss-off after and gone to troll for a new partner the moment they’d cleared the bathroom door.
After that he’d used the excuse of tracking down the rest of the Death Eaters who had escaped the war to avoid emotional entanglements. Joining Harry’s Auror team had kept him too busy to think about a relationship, and so for three more years, he’d been content to ignore the voice in the back of his head calling him a coward for letting that first experience taint him, and found his satisfaction with his own hand.
When the last Lestrange had been caught and incarcerated, though, and he’d hung up his brown robes for good, he’d spent the next year wallowing around, trying to fit in and find the things he’d lost or given up over the years. By then, he’d been gagging for it, desperate for affection. It had been a case of bad timing, however, as there had been an ultra-conservative moment through wizarding England around that time and homosexuality was once more criminalized on the books, and so now he was forced to hide his attractions or face social stigma…or worse, jail. He thought about abandoning England for other wizarding communities where being interested in your own sex wasn’t a sin, but the idea of leaving his Gran during her twilight years didn’t settle right with him. Going into the Muggle world was the other possibility, but the thought of entering another Muggle gay bar to pull made him too nervous.
So, he’d gone back to Hogwarts, to where it was familiar, and he’d taken a job there and huddled around his plants in silent misery.
Then Draco Malfoy had come to the castle this last February and taken over the position of Potions Master when Slughorn had fallen ill and could no longer teach, and Neville thought it quite possible he’d been cast back into hell.
Not for the reason he would have assumed, either.
He glanced across the staff table for the end of year final meeting at the object of his current fascination and inwardly sighed. Malfoy had grown up into physical perfection. He’d become Neville’s ideal, in fact: tall, fit, with lovely hair and mesmerizing eyes. He was like a sculpture by one of the ancient masters, too beautiful to be real. And his attitude had changed, too. Gone was the arrogant, taunting bully, in its place a quiet, confident man who spoke little and observed much.
He made Neville ache, made a part of him that had been resigned to being dormant come alive once more. It was like being colour-blind and suddenly seeing shades of red whenever Draco walked into a room.
Simply put, he took Neville’s breath away with just a glance.
His courage, too.
~.~.~.~.~
Merlin, the curve of Malfoy’s arse was perfect in jeans…
No matter how conflicted he was over the idea of lusting after his co-worker, Neville could not deny that Draco Malfoy looked shaggable in Muggle clothing, which tended to mould itself to his muscular frame as if it had a Sticking Charm on the fabric.
It was all that training he did.
Despite the fact it was summer break, every morning before breakfast out on the Quidditch pitch for an hour or two, Neville would watch from the solid view he had of the west field from his private chambers as Draco ran the entire circle of the arena several times. He’d then marvel as the guy punished his body with a calisthenics regime that looked quite intense, too. Occasionally, he’d also get the opportunity to be dazzled by Malfoy’s flying prowess, as the man raced around the stadium, performing daring manoeuvers that seemed to work whole muscle groups at a time.
He turned back around before he was caught ogling the man, and focused on watering the Lepidote Lilacs.
But really, when he considered what he knew of his co-worker, Neville had to admit that Draco’s most charming trait wasn’t of the physical variety. It was the way Draco gave a person or a task his whole attention, his concentration on its needs absolute…it was hypnotic. Like now, for instance, his co-worker was laboring efficiently and with a delicacy Neville hadn’t expected to re-pot a sagging Moly. The slip of a flower was in dire need of attention, and Draco gave it unreservedly, assuring the soil level was just right for the plant’s nutritional needs and that it received the proper amount of water as well. He whispered to it as he worked, too, treating it as one might a beloved pet or a little child. It was a habit Neville shared in common with him, actually, for he often spoke to all the plants in his greenhouse as if they had feelings.
And that was the crux of the whole thing: Draco Malfoy loved plants.
Who knew?
Also, when the unexpected heatwave had struck five days ago, he’d volunteered to come out into the oppressive summer humidity to where Neville worked to help save his dying plants.
Who did something like that when they didn’t have to?
Seriously, it all seemed so fated, as if some cosmic entity was nudging him and Malfoy together.
So why wasn’t anything happening between them?
Perhaps it had something to do with him going all yellow and shaky at just the thought of crossing the gap between them and making an offer. Just the thought had Neville’s heart racing and his palms sweating. When it came to Malfoy, he seemed to return to the mousy, stuttering twelve-year-old he’d been once upon a time.
Plus, he had that whole gay bar fiasco hanging over his head, and the fact that he’d only ever been with one person, just the one time. The thought of being intimate again after so long…
He was too scared.
Could there be a more perfect opportunity than right here, right now, though?
His inner voice whispered to him, the one that had once cut the head off a snake to save the world. He and Malfoy had been at the caring and repairing thing for the last five days, trying to salvage the more delicate greenhouse flowers, shrubs, trees, and vines from the sweltering heat. They were alone…with nary a wedding ring in sight for either of them.
Okay, yes, they’d lost a baby Mandrake yesterday, which had soured the mood, and the Puffapod Neville was watering right then was still a sickly brown colour and didn’t look like it was long for this world.
Still, they’d made enormous progress in saving the vast majority of the greenhouse residents, and they’d seemed to work quite well together at the daunting task, too.
So why aren’t you going over there right now and asking him out for drinks tonight?
He glanced back over at Malfoy, unable to resist the urge to peek at him again …and nearly came in his pants right there as the guy bent over to pick something up off the ground. The jean material stretched tight across Malfoy’s backside, and the angle was one that had starred in more than a few of Neville’s better fantasies.
Hastily, he looked away. Cripes, if he kept eye-fucking his co-worker it was going to get him found out!
Internally, Neville sighed. It sucked being in lust with someone and not knowing how they felt about you, but it seemed today wouldn’t be the day he found out one way or the other regarding Malfoy. He just wasn’t ready yet to know.
Maybe not ever.
Turning back to own work, he fed the Puffapod some meal worms hoping to raise its flagging energy levels and brooded over his lack of courage in this one thing.
~.~.~.~.~
The heatwave remained an oppressive blanket over the countryside for the next week.
Those students taking summer studies to make up for their abysmal scores during the year and the teachers who had remained behind at Hogwarts to instruct them were equally becoming irritable now. There were incidents; fights breaking out and back-talk to the adults which was becoming problematic. Cooling Charms and Wind Charms weren’t doing much to cure tempers, either.
It was Malfoy who came up with a solution, of course: practical instruction down at the Black Lake’s shores. Charms and Transfiguration featured water spell casting, Defence and Magical Creatures doubled-up to discuss dangers from water creatures, Herbology was about gathering water-based plant materials and how they might be applied in Potions, Arithmatical probabilities regarding drownings shared time with the Divination of water tragedies.
And so it was that for several hours a day, Neville split his time between teaching down at the beach and in the greenhouse. That meant he was in the presence of Draco for most of the day, as their classes worked together on projects and then when class was dismissed, the two Professors retired to the greenhouses to bolster the sagging plants so Hogwarts wouldn’t lose its important crops.
Neville wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing to be so close to his co-worker for such long stretches of time, as watching Malfoy use the built-in greenhouse sprinkler system to hose the dirt and sweat off at the end of each day was doing things to his sanity. One afternoon in fact, Draco actually took his shirt off and stood under the spray, reveling in the cool water sluicing down his skin. With his head thrown back and his eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy, he’d looked like he was close to achieving orgasm. Rather than using that chance to make his move, Neville had instead quickly excused himself to the loo.
As he’d stood at the sink in the bathroom, head bent under a tap, letting the cold water run over his overheated skull, Neville sighed in disgust at his own lack of guts. What had happened to the boy who’d told the Carrows to sod off when they’d demanded he use the Cruciatus on fellow students, and the boy who’d stood up to Hermione, Harry, and Ron to stop them from getting Gryffindor House in trouble with their constant sneaking out after curfew?
Where had the lion gone?
When he felt sufficiently calm, he shut the water off and stood back up. The mirror before him cast his pitiful reflection back, and he winced at what he saw: a man too cowardly to go after what he wanted, quailing instead in the little boy’s room.
“You’re pathetic,” he murmured at his doppelganger, and reached for a hand towel to dry off his head.
~.~.~.~.~
The next afternoon, the Puffapod’s colouring was returning, thankfully. It seemed it might pull through after all.
Neville threw a few more scoops of dark, rich soil over it and packed it in tight before moving on to his next patient: a Chinese Chomping Cabbage that was hiccupping, a sign that it was catching a cold. As he began to go to work on reviving the poor cabbage’s health, he silently practiced again how he would approach Draco once they were done here for the day and make him an offer for drinks down at The Three Broomsticks tonight.
Yesterday, after he’d run off to the loo to escape his uncomfortable feelings, he’d hit a new low, and it had made him so disgusted with himself, that he’d practiced in the mirror all night how he might go about bucking up his courage and approaching Malfoy today.
Just two co-workers getting drinks. Not a date. Nothing illegal about it. No expectations other than a pint and some good conversation.
If he looked at it that way, it wasn’t quite so scary. Besides, he’d survived a Cruciatus or four in his time, so whatever the outcome, he’d be fine.
Right?
Speaking of his co-worker…
Glancing around, hoping to catch sight of that familiar shock of platinum blond hair in the sea of greenery, his attention landed on the Blood Rose bush in the corner that Draco had worked on just that morning. To his surprise, it wasn’t at all weeping from its pruning. Before he could stop to think, he asked aloud, “Where did you learn how to do that?” sensing Malfoy was somewhere in the same room right then.
From behind a table, where he’d been kneeling, Draco stood up. The man tweaked an eyebrow at him in curiosity.
Neville nodded towards the bush in explanation. “The Blood Rose. I never seem to be able to avoid making it bleed whenever I take the sheers to it.”
Malfoy’s expression shifted to one of understanding, and the he simply shrugged. “You heal the wounds as they happen.”
“Heal them? Like you would a human?”
Malfoy’s white-blond head dipped once.
“Huh.”
That was a technique Neville had never considered before, honestly. He glanced at the cabbage in front of him. It hiccupped again. Funny, even the medical terminology was the same as for humans. Why hadn’t he ever noticed?
“Do you think that would work on this little guy? He’s catching a cold.”
“Find out,” Draco dared him. “A small dose of Pepper-Up probably won’t hurt.”
Neville’s heart swelled at such an ingenious, clever, and kind solution. He hadn’t expected such a thing from Malfoy, in truth.
Emboldened by his co-worker’s challenge, Neville wiped the dirt from his hands and decided to go see Madam Pomfrey to ask for some of her stores. It was quite possible a lot of the drooping plants in the greenhouse might just benefit from a little pick-me-up to fight off the insufferable heat’s influence. Disease tended to breed in such conditions, Neville knew from experience, so a shot of vitamins might be just the thing.
“I’ll try it,” he said and explained his plan. “Be right back.”
When he turned at the door to ask Malfoy to keep an eye on the Puffapod while he was gone, he caught the other guy staring at his arse.
Draco’s pale cheeks suffused with pink at being caught, but the man didn’t look away. In fact, the way his grey gaze danced with wickedness and the implication in the slow, naughty smirk he gave Neville, he seemed to invite whatever sins Neville had in mind.
Pleasantly surprised that his co-worker had been checking him out and was clearly tossing him sign, Neville smiled and left.
He whistled all the way up to the Hospital Wing, feeling infinitely more confident of a sudden…and not at all concerned that the Puffapod wouldn’t be in good hands while he was away.
~.~.~.~.~
When he returned sometime later with a doctor’s satchel full of remedies, he was quick to note that Malfoy had tended to the Puffapod and the Chinese Chomping Cabbage both, in addition to having finished repotting another sick Moly.
The man was nowhere to be seen, though, probably having moved on to another greenhouse or gone to the men’s, so Neville laid out the potion vials and draught bottles on a table and began administering medicines as Madam Pomfrey had proscribed. The Cabbage immediately perked up and the Puffapod’s colour returned to a lovely shade of orange.
Around the room he went, using a dropper and teaspoon to administer help to his beloved plants. The change in them was astounding.
“It’s working, then?”
Malfoy stood in the doorway between greenhouses six and seven, his shirt sweat-stained and dirty, and perspiration dotting his forehead and top lip. His pale, elegant hands were filthy with dark soil and stained by Baneberry, and he desperately needed a shower, but rather than fuss about working in mud and getting messy, as he would most certainly have done when he was a teenager, his focus was on the plants around them. He stood in the entrance and studied them, as if assessing their health with real concern for their well-being.
Neville had never been so enchanted.
-
Or tongue-tied, his earlier confidence lost now that there had been a little bit of time for his usual set of doubts to start hammering away at his self-esteem.
How could he ever believe it possible that Draco Malfoy would want him? The guy was beautiful, and Neville was…not. He was average-looking, not ugly but definitely not in the same league as the object of his fascination. The best he had going for him was his height, that he’d maintained a good shape with age, and that his smile was nice now that he’d had his teeth fixed. Obviously, he’d misinterpreted what had happened earlier, giving it more weight than what it actually was: just a little basket shopping. Harmless, really. Meaningless, definitely.
Stupid, he thought.
It was Gerald and that filthy bathroom all over again-a case of misunderstanding on Neville’s part.
When the silence stretched between them, Draco finally turned that grey, magnetic gaze on him.
Instantly, Neville went hard. Quickly, he turned back to the satchel, his hands trembling as he replaced vials and rushed to close it, to return it to Madam Pomfrey. “It’s working great,” he replied, feeling like a fool for not being more articulate. “They’ll all be well in no time, I’m sure.”
“Excellent news,” Malfoy proclaimed. “We should celebrate.”
Neville froze, hoping he wasn’t imagining such an invitation…
Moving with the light step of a fox, Malfoy was suddenly at his elbow, whispering in his ear, “I’ve some finely aged Hebredian Firewhisky back at my room.” His hands slipped around Neville’s waist and held him in a way that there was no way to mistake his interests. “Care to join me?”
Hardly believing his luck, Neville glanced around, wondering if there was anyone else in the room who might confirm he wasn’t simply imagining this moment. He then wondered if he’d accidentally spilled some Felix Felicis on himself while up at the Hospital Wing, rifling through Madam Pomfrey’s cupboard. Perhaps his stars were correctly aligned today?
Or perhaps you hadn’t misinterpreted anything,
the voice of his conscience told him, and you’ve just been sabotaging your own happiness for so long that it’s become a bad habit.
God, he had been doing that, hadn’t he?
He’d been so afraid of rejection for so long, especially after what Gerald had done to him, and then what society had done in passing that stupid hate law that had made him feel like a disease and a criminal rolled into one, that he’d come to believe the bullshit lie that he was unworthy of love and respect. That’s why he’d come here and taken this job-because plants had been safer, they didn’t judge…well, except the obnoxious ones that could talk.
But here they stood, his back to Malfoy’s chest, and it was clear by the erection pressing up against his arse that the other man desired, make no mistake.
He was deserving and desirable, despite the fact he was plain-faced and practically-virginal and a little bit broken.
Malfoy wanted him.
The moment was a revelation.
Shoring up his bravery, slamming those taunting doubts in his head back into the darker recesses of his mind, he nodded once in acceptance of the offer.
“Good,” Draco purred against the bottom of his jaw, and the sound made Neville’s body go tight with anticipation. “Come on then.”
He left the satchel on the table, and waved his wand to lock up all the greenhouse doors behind them as they left together. One sidelong glance at Malfoy’s face and Neville didn’t think he was imagining anything this time; it was clear from the set of his co-worker’s jaw and the heated anticipation in his gaze that neither of them would be getting back to work tonight anyway.
~.~.~.~.~
The whisky was smooth and warm in his mouth, and Neville luxuriated in this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to sample it. He closed his eyes and let it roll over his tongue and down his throat, tasting spicy vanilla and cinnamon as it burned a trail into his belly.
“Fantastic, huh?”
He turned to his host and eagerly agreed. “It’s quite wonderful.”
Draco laughed, and it was a dark, masculine sound that shot straight to Neville’s groin. “It’s worth more than my entire wardrobe.”
Neville nearly choked hearing that, knowing Malfoy’s clothing had always been of the finest cut and cloth, from some of the most expensive European tailors. The war reparations hadn’t put much of a dent into the contents of his family’s vaults, if Witch Weekly was to be believed.
“Including the bits you can’t see,” Draco teased.
Glancing over the rim of his glass, their eyes met again and there was no question in Neville’s mind that Draco was flirting with him this time. “We should clean up,” he said after swallowing another dram of whisky. He glanced down at his dirty clothing. “Do you have a shower?”
Draco seemed surprised by such sudden boldness, but then his features shifted into a lazy, predatory expression that made butterflies erupt in Neville’s mid-section.
“Excellent idea.” He set his glass down and crossed the room to him. “Let’s do that.”
He took Neville’s glass out of his hand and set it on a nearby table. Then he grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the adjoining en suite.
When they were in the bathroom, Draco immediately began stripping down without shame. With a wave of his hand and a non-verbal spell, the shower turned on behind him as well. “Well?” the blond challenged, dropping his trousers. Of course, he was wearing nothing underneath. “Are you Gryffindor or aren’t you?”
Neville couldn’t stop staring. Malfoy’s cock was as stunning as the man, himself. Throat tightening and mouth going dry, all he could envision was dropping to his knees right then and taking that long, aroused length between his lips, sucking the pre-come from the swollen, pink head while stroking the heavy twin weights hanging below.
Draco’s smirk was positively daring, as if he knew what Neville was thinking, knew he was a thing of beauty and desire that could not be denied and silently taunting him to act.
A wall of steam and heat abruptly surrounded them, as oppressive as the summer heat that never seemed to let up. Neville started sweating and breathing heavy. His limbs felt heavy and his head was slightly dizzy.
His host turned without a word and climbed under the Roman-styled shower, letting the spray douse him and wash the dirt from his body. He reached for some soap and began scrubbing down. Neville watched him a moment longer, taking in the long line of Draco’s legs, that perfect arse that dimpled when the man arched his back under the water, the sleek muscles in his back and arms.
There was no denying in the commanding look he threw over his shoulder at Neville that Draco was a dominant lover. He’d probably be precise, exacting, determined to extract every ounce of pleasure from the moment, if the promise in his eyes was anything to trust. “Come here,” he bade, holding out his hand.
They’d come to it at last. Now was the do-or-die moment.
His heart pounded, but the lion within him stretched, stood up, and roared its defiance of fear.
Hastily removing his clothes, Neville joined Malfoy in the shower. He took the man’s hand and allowed his co-worker to choreograph their movements so Neville was under the spray then.
To his surprise, Draco began to wash him.
“Let me,” he offered, but Malfoy waved him off.
“I like to take care of my partner.”
Neville’s gut clenched and hot fire burned through him. Partner. That’s what they’d been over the last few weeks, hadn’t they? They’d saved the greenhouse together.
Draco leant closer, running soapy hands over Neville’s pectorals with an approving gleam in his eyes. “You don’t seem this fit in ordinary clothing.”
Neville’s cheeks burned as Malfoy’s fingers slipped over the ridges of his abdominals. “The war… I started exercising that year. Every morning since. It’s why I get up early, too.”
“Too? Ah, so you have been watching me.”
Wisely, Neville kept his mouth shut. Draco chuckled and gently pinched one of his nipples. Neville’s spine arched of its own accord at the electric touch, and a hiss escaped his lips.
“I’ll tell you a secret for one of yours,” Malfoy teased.
Neville nodded, curious.
“That day in fifth year when you caught me having it off with your hero friend, I’ve known since then that you were like me. That you liked cock, too.” He continued to play with the taut buds, caressing and pinching them until Neville’s knees threatened to give out on him. “Your turn.”
His brain struggled to find something suitable to tell, without revealing too much. It was damned hard to do, however, when Malfoy was inching him towards blowing his load before they’d even really started. “That same day in fifth year…that’s when I realised I was gay.”
Neville watched as his partner’s expression shifted, softening a bit with regret. “You’re saying I corrupted you.”
“No, I’m saying you freed me.”
Malfoy went still against him. Even his breathing had ceased. He looked startled, as if that hadn’t been the answer he’d been expecting.
No fear, no fear, no fear…
“Again?” Neville asked, and reached for Malfoy, pulling him close. He didn’t want to stop, didn’t want doubts creeping in to interrupt this moment now that he’d decided. “I watch you in the mornings through my window.”
Malfoy’s grey gaze shot to his, warily searching for something. Whatever it was he found in Neville’s hazel eyes, though, set him at ease. A bit of his usual arrogance even crept back into his mood; his lips curled with growing confidence.
“I know. I watch you back.”
“Again? You look good in Muggle jeans,” Neville confessed around a gasp as Draco’s fingers made an erotic trail south, caressing the ridges of Neville’s abdomen and hips, and tracing the contours of his arse. When his hard arousal was palmed in Draco’s slick hand, Neville’s body jerked forward in encouragement and a deep, satisfied groan escaped his mouth. Reaching behind him, he braced him hands against the wall, definitely on the verge now of seriously going down if he wasn’t careful. “God, I love you in jeans, and when you’re all dirty and sweaty and… Oh, don’t stop!”
“I have no intention. I’ve wanted to seduce you since the first week I came here.” Draco pressed his mouth to his throat and kissed along the throbbing vein in his neck. “Tell me, has anyone ever owned you?”
His attention fully encompassed by the slow, methodical stroking of Draco’s hand, Neville was finding it difficult to work his tongue, so he simply shook his head instead.
“Have you been fucked?”
He nodded and shuddered as his balls were gently caressed by soap-slicked fingers. “Once.”
Draco’s mouth was suddenly pressing against Neville’s earlobe, kissing gently. He purred, “Then I’ll go slow tonight, but know this: I’m going to make you utterly mine, Neville. I’m going to make sure you won’t want to leave my bed.”
“Fuck yes,” Neville sighed as Draco angled their mouths together and kissed him as he’d never been kissed before.
~.~.~.~.~
Every muscle ached, but in a good way.
Neville stretched, trying to work out the kinks. He yawned and flexed his toes and fingers…winced. His arse was hot, sore and his balls throbbed, and not even Malfoy’s expensive silk bedsheets, with their cool, smooth glide over his naked skin, could ease that hurt.
He smiled.
Last night had been a revelation of more than one kind. He’d been well and truly owned as promised, to the tune of several orgasms. He hadn’t even realised such a thing could be possible, and yet Draco’s skill in a variety of exotic sexual techniques had extracted every ounce of pleasure out of him.
Turning his head, he was surprised to find his lover was awake as well, on his side, watching him silent and cat-like.
“’Morning,” Neville mumbled, acutely aware that his mouth was going to need a good rinsing. He tried not to breathe too hard.
Malfoy’s lids lowered and his lips curled with arrogant satisfaction, and Neville was sure he was reliving the best moments of their time together last night in his head. “Good morning. How do you feel?”
It never failed to amaze him that Draco was a caretaker, but then that was the role of a good dominant, wasn’t it?
With a grunt, Neville sat up…and immediately regretted it. “Alive,” he said, and it lacked the jubilance he felt in his soul, so he tried again. “Fulfilled.” He looked over at his lover. “More content than I’ve ever been.” He felt his cheeks go hot, feeling inept with his words. “I’ve imagined it enough, but I never thought…well, that it could be that good.”
Malfoy’s smile widened and it reminded Neville of a feline predator’s, all feral and assured. “So you wouldn’t be adverse to the idea of exploring this further, I take it?”
His heart leapt in his chest in joy. “Absolutely!” he said, and realised he sounded like some sort of teenage yump, overly excited for another plateful of food. “I mean, I’d like that.”
His lover chuckled and sat up as well, reaching for him. In a quick pounce, Malfoy had him on his back again.
“A kiss to seal the deal, then?”
Neville’s face went fireball hot. “Er, I should brush first.”
Malfoy laughed, and it was a deeply masculine, darkly possessive sound. “I like the way you taste,” the man all but purred as he licked at Neville’s lips and kissed him hard.
“How’s that?” Neville dared to ask when he could breathe again, allowing his lover to spread his legs and rest between them so their slowly hardening erections kissed, too.
His lover pressed his mouth to Neville’s ear and whispered, “Like you’re finally mine.”
An hour later, Neville laid back, blissed out, wondering what any of his friends or family would say if he told them he thought he was falling in love with Draco Malfoy.
…And he realised he didn’t really care what their opinions would be, or what society thought of what he was, because somewhere between this last romp, when Draco had been moving deep inside him, slow and easy because he knew Neville was stretched and sore, and as he now watched Draco come out of the shower with only a towel around his hips and his hair sticking up everywhere, that his new lover was his, too.
Who cared what anyone else thought. He was in love.
~.~.~.~.~
The stifling heatwave passed over Hogwarts two weeks later, two days before the start of school.
Good timing.
Neville’s greenhouses had been saved. In fact, they’d never looked so happy and alive.
Everything was healed, every flowering plant was blooming. The Singing Azaleas wouldn’t shut up, and it was driving the Crabgrass mad, but the baby Mandrakes seemed to like the endlessly-looping lullaby, so Neville let it be.
“They look good,” Malfoy said coming up beside him. “You’ve a way with them I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone have with plants, not even Sprout.” He wrapped an arm around Neville’s waist, pulling them together. “It’s your kindness. It…speaks to those who need gentling.”
Neville returned a vial of Bitterroot Balsam to the satchel, its use a success on a heat-blistered Sopophorus plant. “It was your idea to heal them, rather than just repot and water them and hope for the best. Only someone with a good heart, someone who cared enough could have come up with a solution to their suffering.” He knew Draco, with his dark past, would read between the lines and really understand what he was getting at. “In fact, I owe you a great deal for helping out in the greenhouse these last several weeks,” he continued. “Without you all of this might have been lost.” He looked around at the trade of his life, proud of the work he and his lover had done to assure it survived. “I might have lost my job had we lost these plants. So, really, you’re my life-saver. Thank you.”
Draco’s head tilted as he considered him, and that lovely pink flush that Neville was only now realising was something he and no other was privy to, as Draco never let his guard down around others, painted his pale cheeks. His eyes glittered with interest.
“A saviour, huh? That’s a first. No one’s ever called me that before.”
Neville turned to him, taking Draco in his arms. He nipped Draco’s earlobe, which had become their pre-arranged signal for sex. “Want to save me again now?” he offered, feeling strangely aroused of a sudden. They’d shagged once already this morning, but Neville was dying for another go.
“Here?” Malfoy’s voice had lowered, moving into that register that indicated growing arousal. In a flash, he regained the confidence that came with the knowledge that his sexual prowess was unequalled, at least as far as Neville was concerned. “My, my, Neville…haven’t you become bold?”
Using his wand, Neville closed and locked all the doors around them, and then he reached for Draco’s belt.
“I blame the heatwave,” he said, falling to his knees before his lover and taking down his jeans. “There’s something about seeing you in Muggle jeans, all sweaty and dirty… I can’t help myself.”
As he took Draco’s hard length into his mouth, the man gasped and reached out to run his fingers through Neville’s hair. “Thank fuck for bad weather!” he said and thrust with a pleasure-filled groan.
Far above, a cleansing rain finally started to fall, bringing with it a clearing of the air. It pinged off the greenhouse glass and ran in rivulets over the side, cleaning out the gutters.
The suffocating summer was officially over.
~FIN~
Author: rzzmg
Prompt: S3 by shiftylinguini
Pairing(s): Neville/Draco
Word Count: ~5K
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): Explicit slash sexual situations, explicit profanity, first time regrets
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Thank you so much to my beta, “gjeangirl”! This one is dedicated to you! This is my first time shipping this couple. I hope you like! Title comes from something my mother used to say to me: life is a tree, and each branch is an event that brings you close to the person you are meant to be. You just have to have the courage to climb, and you will discover your destiny.
Summary: Neville’s fallen head-over heels for his Hogwarts co-worker, but he’s lacking the necessary courage at the moment to discover if those feelings could be reciprocated or not. When Draco volunteers to help Neville save his plants in the greenhouse from an unexpected and lingering heatwave, however, this just may be fate knocking on Neville’s door…
~.~.~.~.~
Whatever courage he’d had when he’d been a reckless teenager facing down Death Eaters, it had fled by the time Neville was twenty-one and walked out of his first gay bar.
He’d gone home that stiflingly hot summer night a little tipsy from too much vodka, no longer a virgin, and humiliated that he’d let himself be fucked in the loo by a man named Gerald who’d literally given him the kiss-off after and gone to troll for a new partner the moment they’d cleared the bathroom door.
After that he’d used the excuse of tracking down the rest of the Death Eaters who had escaped the war to avoid emotional entanglements. Joining Harry’s Auror team had kept him too busy to think about a relationship, and so for three more years, he’d been content to ignore the voice in the back of his head calling him a coward for letting that first experience taint him, and found his satisfaction with his own hand.
When the last Lestrange had been caught and incarcerated, though, and he’d hung up his brown robes for good, he’d spent the next year wallowing around, trying to fit in and find the things he’d lost or given up over the years. By then, he’d been gagging for it, desperate for affection. It had been a case of bad timing, however, as there had been an ultra-conservative moment through wizarding England around that time and homosexuality was once more criminalized on the books, and so now he was forced to hide his attractions or face social stigma…or worse, jail. He thought about abandoning England for other wizarding communities where being interested in your own sex wasn’t a sin, but the idea of leaving his Gran during her twilight years didn’t settle right with him. Going into the Muggle world was the other possibility, but the thought of entering another Muggle gay bar to pull made him too nervous.
So, he’d gone back to Hogwarts, to where it was familiar, and he’d taken a job there and huddled around his plants in silent misery.
Then Draco Malfoy had come to the castle this last February and taken over the position of Potions Master when Slughorn had fallen ill and could no longer teach, and Neville thought it quite possible he’d been cast back into hell.
Not for the reason he would have assumed, either.
He glanced across the staff table for the end of year final meeting at the object of his current fascination and inwardly sighed. Malfoy had grown up into physical perfection. He’d become Neville’s ideal, in fact: tall, fit, with lovely hair and mesmerizing eyes. He was like a sculpture by one of the ancient masters, too beautiful to be real. And his attitude had changed, too. Gone was the arrogant, taunting bully, in its place a quiet, confident man who spoke little and observed much.
He made Neville ache, made a part of him that had been resigned to being dormant come alive once more. It was like being colour-blind and suddenly seeing shades of red whenever Draco walked into a room.
Simply put, he took Neville’s breath away with just a glance.
His courage, too.
~.~.~.~.~
Merlin, the curve of Malfoy’s arse was perfect in jeans…
No matter how conflicted he was over the idea of lusting after his co-worker, Neville could not deny that Draco Malfoy looked shaggable in Muggle clothing, which tended to mould itself to his muscular frame as if it had a Sticking Charm on the fabric.
It was all that training he did.
Despite the fact it was summer break, every morning before breakfast out on the Quidditch pitch for an hour or two, Neville would watch from the solid view he had of the west field from his private chambers as Draco ran the entire circle of the arena several times. He’d then marvel as the guy punished his body with a calisthenics regime that looked quite intense, too. Occasionally, he’d also get the opportunity to be dazzled by Malfoy’s flying prowess, as the man raced around the stadium, performing daring manoeuvers that seemed to work whole muscle groups at a time.
He turned back around before he was caught ogling the man, and focused on watering the Lepidote Lilacs.
But really, when he considered what he knew of his co-worker, Neville had to admit that Draco’s most charming trait wasn’t of the physical variety. It was the way Draco gave a person or a task his whole attention, his concentration on its needs absolute…it was hypnotic. Like now, for instance, his co-worker was laboring efficiently and with a delicacy Neville hadn’t expected to re-pot a sagging Moly. The slip of a flower was in dire need of attention, and Draco gave it unreservedly, assuring the soil level was just right for the plant’s nutritional needs and that it received the proper amount of water as well. He whispered to it as he worked, too, treating it as one might a beloved pet or a little child. It was a habit Neville shared in common with him, actually, for he often spoke to all the plants in his greenhouse as if they had feelings.
And that was the crux of the whole thing: Draco Malfoy loved plants.
Who knew?
Also, when the unexpected heatwave had struck five days ago, he’d volunteered to come out into the oppressive summer humidity to where Neville worked to help save his dying plants.
Who did something like that when they didn’t have to?
Seriously, it all seemed so fated, as if some cosmic entity was nudging him and Malfoy together.
So why wasn’t anything happening between them?
Perhaps it had something to do with him going all yellow and shaky at just the thought of crossing the gap between them and making an offer. Just the thought had Neville’s heart racing and his palms sweating. When it came to Malfoy, he seemed to return to the mousy, stuttering twelve-year-old he’d been once upon a time.
Plus, he had that whole gay bar fiasco hanging over his head, and the fact that he’d only ever been with one person, just the one time. The thought of being intimate again after so long…
He was too scared.
Could there be a more perfect opportunity than right here, right now, though?
His inner voice whispered to him, the one that had once cut the head off a snake to save the world. He and Malfoy had been at the caring and repairing thing for the last five days, trying to salvage the more delicate greenhouse flowers, shrubs, trees, and vines from the sweltering heat. They were alone…with nary a wedding ring in sight for either of them.
Okay, yes, they’d lost a baby Mandrake yesterday, which had soured the mood, and the Puffapod Neville was watering right then was still a sickly brown colour and didn’t look like it was long for this world.
Still, they’d made enormous progress in saving the vast majority of the greenhouse residents, and they’d seemed to work quite well together at the daunting task, too.
So why aren’t you going over there right now and asking him out for drinks tonight?
He glanced back over at Malfoy, unable to resist the urge to peek at him again …and nearly came in his pants right there as the guy bent over to pick something up off the ground. The jean material stretched tight across Malfoy’s backside, and the angle was one that had starred in more than a few of Neville’s better fantasies.
Hastily, he looked away. Cripes, if he kept eye-fucking his co-worker it was going to get him found out!
Internally, Neville sighed. It sucked being in lust with someone and not knowing how they felt about you, but it seemed today wouldn’t be the day he found out one way or the other regarding Malfoy. He just wasn’t ready yet to know.
Maybe not ever.
Turning back to own work, he fed the Puffapod some meal worms hoping to raise its flagging energy levels and brooded over his lack of courage in this one thing.
~.~.~.~.~
The heatwave remained an oppressive blanket over the countryside for the next week.
Those students taking summer studies to make up for their abysmal scores during the year and the teachers who had remained behind at Hogwarts to instruct them were equally becoming irritable now. There were incidents; fights breaking out and back-talk to the adults which was becoming problematic. Cooling Charms and Wind Charms weren’t doing much to cure tempers, either.
It was Malfoy who came up with a solution, of course: practical instruction down at the Black Lake’s shores. Charms and Transfiguration featured water spell casting, Defence and Magical Creatures doubled-up to discuss dangers from water creatures, Herbology was about gathering water-based plant materials and how they might be applied in Potions, Arithmatical probabilities regarding drownings shared time with the Divination of water tragedies.
And so it was that for several hours a day, Neville split his time between teaching down at the beach and in the greenhouse. That meant he was in the presence of Draco for most of the day, as their classes worked together on projects and then when class was dismissed, the two Professors retired to the greenhouses to bolster the sagging plants so Hogwarts wouldn’t lose its important crops.
Neville wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing to be so close to his co-worker for such long stretches of time, as watching Malfoy use the built-in greenhouse sprinkler system to hose the dirt and sweat off at the end of each day was doing things to his sanity. One afternoon in fact, Draco actually took his shirt off and stood under the spray, reveling in the cool water sluicing down his skin. With his head thrown back and his eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy, he’d looked like he was close to achieving orgasm. Rather than using that chance to make his move, Neville had instead quickly excused himself to the loo.
As he’d stood at the sink in the bathroom, head bent under a tap, letting the cold water run over his overheated skull, Neville sighed in disgust at his own lack of guts. What had happened to the boy who’d told the Carrows to sod off when they’d demanded he use the Cruciatus on fellow students, and the boy who’d stood up to Hermione, Harry, and Ron to stop them from getting Gryffindor House in trouble with their constant sneaking out after curfew?
Where had the lion gone?
When he felt sufficiently calm, he shut the water off and stood back up. The mirror before him cast his pitiful reflection back, and he winced at what he saw: a man too cowardly to go after what he wanted, quailing instead in the little boy’s room.
“You’re pathetic,” he murmured at his doppelganger, and reached for a hand towel to dry off his head.
~.~.~.~.~
The next afternoon, the Puffapod’s colouring was returning, thankfully. It seemed it might pull through after all.
Neville threw a few more scoops of dark, rich soil over it and packed it in tight before moving on to his next patient: a Chinese Chomping Cabbage that was hiccupping, a sign that it was catching a cold. As he began to go to work on reviving the poor cabbage’s health, he silently practiced again how he would approach Draco once they were done here for the day and make him an offer for drinks down at The Three Broomsticks tonight.
Yesterday, after he’d run off to the loo to escape his uncomfortable feelings, he’d hit a new low, and it had made him so disgusted with himself, that he’d practiced in the mirror all night how he might go about bucking up his courage and approaching Malfoy today.
Just two co-workers getting drinks. Not a date. Nothing illegal about it. No expectations other than a pint and some good conversation.
If he looked at it that way, it wasn’t quite so scary. Besides, he’d survived a Cruciatus or four in his time, so whatever the outcome, he’d be fine.
Right?
Speaking of his co-worker…
Glancing around, hoping to catch sight of that familiar shock of platinum blond hair in the sea of greenery, his attention landed on the Blood Rose bush in the corner that Draco had worked on just that morning. To his surprise, it wasn’t at all weeping from its pruning. Before he could stop to think, he asked aloud, “Where did you learn how to do that?” sensing Malfoy was somewhere in the same room right then.
From behind a table, where he’d been kneeling, Draco stood up. The man tweaked an eyebrow at him in curiosity.
Neville nodded towards the bush in explanation. “The Blood Rose. I never seem to be able to avoid making it bleed whenever I take the sheers to it.”
Malfoy’s expression shifted to one of understanding, and the he simply shrugged. “You heal the wounds as they happen.”
“Heal them? Like you would a human?”
Malfoy’s white-blond head dipped once.
“Huh.”
That was a technique Neville had never considered before, honestly. He glanced at the cabbage in front of him. It hiccupped again. Funny, even the medical terminology was the same as for humans. Why hadn’t he ever noticed?
“Do you think that would work on this little guy? He’s catching a cold.”
“Find out,” Draco dared him. “A small dose of Pepper-Up probably won’t hurt.”
Neville’s heart swelled at such an ingenious, clever, and kind solution. He hadn’t expected such a thing from Malfoy, in truth.
Emboldened by his co-worker’s challenge, Neville wiped the dirt from his hands and decided to go see Madam Pomfrey to ask for some of her stores. It was quite possible a lot of the drooping plants in the greenhouse might just benefit from a little pick-me-up to fight off the insufferable heat’s influence. Disease tended to breed in such conditions, Neville knew from experience, so a shot of vitamins might be just the thing.
“I’ll try it,” he said and explained his plan. “Be right back.”
When he turned at the door to ask Malfoy to keep an eye on the Puffapod while he was gone, he caught the other guy staring at his arse.
Draco’s pale cheeks suffused with pink at being caught, but the man didn’t look away. In fact, the way his grey gaze danced with wickedness and the implication in the slow, naughty smirk he gave Neville, he seemed to invite whatever sins Neville had in mind.
Pleasantly surprised that his co-worker had been checking him out and was clearly tossing him sign, Neville smiled and left.
He whistled all the way up to the Hospital Wing, feeling infinitely more confident of a sudden…and not at all concerned that the Puffapod wouldn’t be in good hands while he was away.
~.~.~.~.~
When he returned sometime later with a doctor’s satchel full of remedies, he was quick to note that Malfoy had tended to the Puffapod and the Chinese Chomping Cabbage both, in addition to having finished repotting another sick Moly.
The man was nowhere to be seen, though, probably having moved on to another greenhouse or gone to the men’s, so Neville laid out the potion vials and draught bottles on a table and began administering medicines as Madam Pomfrey had proscribed. The Cabbage immediately perked up and the Puffapod’s colour returned to a lovely shade of orange.
Around the room he went, using a dropper and teaspoon to administer help to his beloved plants. The change in them was astounding.
“It’s working, then?”
Malfoy stood in the doorway between greenhouses six and seven, his shirt sweat-stained and dirty, and perspiration dotting his forehead and top lip. His pale, elegant hands were filthy with dark soil and stained by Baneberry, and he desperately needed a shower, but rather than fuss about working in mud and getting messy, as he would most certainly have done when he was a teenager, his focus was on the plants around them. He stood in the entrance and studied them, as if assessing their health with real concern for their well-being.
Neville had never been so enchanted.
-
Or tongue-tied, his earlier confidence lost now that there had been a little bit of time for his usual set of doubts to start hammering away at his self-esteem.
How could he ever believe it possible that Draco Malfoy would want him? The guy was beautiful, and Neville was…not. He was average-looking, not ugly but definitely not in the same league as the object of his fascination. The best he had going for him was his height, that he’d maintained a good shape with age, and that his smile was nice now that he’d had his teeth fixed. Obviously, he’d misinterpreted what had happened earlier, giving it more weight than what it actually was: just a little basket shopping. Harmless, really. Meaningless, definitely.
Stupid, he thought.
It was Gerald and that filthy bathroom all over again-a case of misunderstanding on Neville’s part.
When the silence stretched between them, Draco finally turned that grey, magnetic gaze on him.
Instantly, Neville went hard. Quickly, he turned back to the satchel, his hands trembling as he replaced vials and rushed to close it, to return it to Madam Pomfrey. “It’s working great,” he replied, feeling like a fool for not being more articulate. “They’ll all be well in no time, I’m sure.”
“Excellent news,” Malfoy proclaimed. “We should celebrate.”
Neville froze, hoping he wasn’t imagining such an invitation…
Moving with the light step of a fox, Malfoy was suddenly at his elbow, whispering in his ear, “I’ve some finely aged Hebredian Firewhisky back at my room.” His hands slipped around Neville’s waist and held him in a way that there was no way to mistake his interests. “Care to join me?”
Hardly believing his luck, Neville glanced around, wondering if there was anyone else in the room who might confirm he wasn’t simply imagining this moment. He then wondered if he’d accidentally spilled some Felix Felicis on himself while up at the Hospital Wing, rifling through Madam Pomfrey’s cupboard. Perhaps his stars were correctly aligned today?
Or perhaps you hadn’t misinterpreted anything,
the voice of his conscience told him, and you’ve just been sabotaging your own happiness for so long that it’s become a bad habit.
God, he had been doing that, hadn’t he?
He’d been so afraid of rejection for so long, especially after what Gerald had done to him, and then what society had done in passing that stupid hate law that had made him feel like a disease and a criminal rolled into one, that he’d come to believe the bullshit lie that he was unworthy of love and respect. That’s why he’d come here and taken this job-because plants had been safer, they didn’t judge…well, except the obnoxious ones that could talk.
But here they stood, his back to Malfoy’s chest, and it was clear by the erection pressing up against his arse that the other man desired, make no mistake.
He was deserving and desirable, despite the fact he was plain-faced and practically-virginal and a little bit broken.
Malfoy wanted him.
The moment was a revelation.
Shoring up his bravery, slamming those taunting doubts in his head back into the darker recesses of his mind, he nodded once in acceptance of the offer.
“Good,” Draco purred against the bottom of his jaw, and the sound made Neville’s body go tight with anticipation. “Come on then.”
He left the satchel on the table, and waved his wand to lock up all the greenhouse doors behind them as they left together. One sidelong glance at Malfoy’s face and Neville didn’t think he was imagining anything this time; it was clear from the set of his co-worker’s jaw and the heated anticipation in his gaze that neither of them would be getting back to work tonight anyway.
~.~.~.~.~
The whisky was smooth and warm in his mouth, and Neville luxuriated in this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to sample it. He closed his eyes and let it roll over his tongue and down his throat, tasting spicy vanilla and cinnamon as it burned a trail into his belly.
“Fantastic, huh?”
He turned to his host and eagerly agreed. “It’s quite wonderful.”
Draco laughed, and it was a dark, masculine sound that shot straight to Neville’s groin. “It’s worth more than my entire wardrobe.”
Neville nearly choked hearing that, knowing Malfoy’s clothing had always been of the finest cut and cloth, from some of the most expensive European tailors. The war reparations hadn’t put much of a dent into the contents of his family’s vaults, if Witch Weekly was to be believed.
“Including the bits you can’t see,” Draco teased.
Glancing over the rim of his glass, their eyes met again and there was no question in Neville’s mind that Draco was flirting with him this time. “We should clean up,” he said after swallowing another dram of whisky. He glanced down at his dirty clothing. “Do you have a shower?”
Draco seemed surprised by such sudden boldness, but then his features shifted into a lazy, predatory expression that made butterflies erupt in Neville’s mid-section.
“Excellent idea.” He set his glass down and crossed the room to him. “Let’s do that.”
He took Neville’s glass out of his hand and set it on a nearby table. Then he grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the adjoining en suite.
When they were in the bathroom, Draco immediately began stripping down without shame. With a wave of his hand and a non-verbal spell, the shower turned on behind him as well. “Well?” the blond challenged, dropping his trousers. Of course, he was wearing nothing underneath. “Are you Gryffindor or aren’t you?”
Neville couldn’t stop staring. Malfoy’s cock was as stunning as the man, himself. Throat tightening and mouth going dry, all he could envision was dropping to his knees right then and taking that long, aroused length between his lips, sucking the pre-come from the swollen, pink head while stroking the heavy twin weights hanging below.
Draco’s smirk was positively daring, as if he knew what Neville was thinking, knew he was a thing of beauty and desire that could not be denied and silently taunting him to act.
A wall of steam and heat abruptly surrounded them, as oppressive as the summer heat that never seemed to let up. Neville started sweating and breathing heavy. His limbs felt heavy and his head was slightly dizzy.
His host turned without a word and climbed under the Roman-styled shower, letting the spray douse him and wash the dirt from his body. He reached for some soap and began scrubbing down. Neville watched him a moment longer, taking in the long line of Draco’s legs, that perfect arse that dimpled when the man arched his back under the water, the sleek muscles in his back and arms.
There was no denying in the commanding look he threw over his shoulder at Neville that Draco was a dominant lover. He’d probably be precise, exacting, determined to extract every ounce of pleasure from the moment, if the promise in his eyes was anything to trust. “Come here,” he bade, holding out his hand.
They’d come to it at last. Now was the do-or-die moment.
His heart pounded, but the lion within him stretched, stood up, and roared its defiance of fear.
Hastily removing his clothes, Neville joined Malfoy in the shower. He took the man’s hand and allowed his co-worker to choreograph their movements so Neville was under the spray then.
To his surprise, Draco began to wash him.
“Let me,” he offered, but Malfoy waved him off.
“I like to take care of my partner.”
Neville’s gut clenched and hot fire burned through him. Partner. That’s what they’d been over the last few weeks, hadn’t they? They’d saved the greenhouse together.
Draco leant closer, running soapy hands over Neville’s pectorals with an approving gleam in his eyes. “You don’t seem this fit in ordinary clothing.”
Neville’s cheeks burned as Malfoy’s fingers slipped over the ridges of his abdominals. “The war… I started exercising that year. Every morning since. It’s why I get up early, too.”
“Too? Ah, so you have been watching me.”
Wisely, Neville kept his mouth shut. Draco chuckled and gently pinched one of his nipples. Neville’s spine arched of its own accord at the electric touch, and a hiss escaped his lips.
“I’ll tell you a secret for one of yours,” Malfoy teased.
Neville nodded, curious.
“That day in fifth year when you caught me having it off with your hero friend, I’ve known since then that you were like me. That you liked cock, too.” He continued to play with the taut buds, caressing and pinching them until Neville’s knees threatened to give out on him. “Your turn.”
His brain struggled to find something suitable to tell, without revealing too much. It was damned hard to do, however, when Malfoy was inching him towards blowing his load before they’d even really started. “That same day in fifth year…that’s when I realised I was gay.”
Neville watched as his partner’s expression shifted, softening a bit with regret. “You’re saying I corrupted you.”
“No, I’m saying you freed me.”
Malfoy went still against him. Even his breathing had ceased. He looked startled, as if that hadn’t been the answer he’d been expecting.
No fear, no fear, no fear…
“Again?” Neville asked, and reached for Malfoy, pulling him close. He didn’t want to stop, didn’t want doubts creeping in to interrupt this moment now that he’d decided. “I watch you in the mornings through my window.”
Malfoy’s grey gaze shot to his, warily searching for something. Whatever it was he found in Neville’s hazel eyes, though, set him at ease. A bit of his usual arrogance even crept back into his mood; his lips curled with growing confidence.
“I know. I watch you back.”
“Again? You look good in Muggle jeans,” Neville confessed around a gasp as Draco’s fingers made an erotic trail south, caressing the ridges of Neville’s abdomen and hips, and tracing the contours of his arse. When his hard arousal was palmed in Draco’s slick hand, Neville’s body jerked forward in encouragement and a deep, satisfied groan escaped his mouth. Reaching behind him, he braced him hands against the wall, definitely on the verge now of seriously going down if he wasn’t careful. “God, I love you in jeans, and when you’re all dirty and sweaty and… Oh, don’t stop!”
“I have no intention. I’ve wanted to seduce you since the first week I came here.” Draco pressed his mouth to his throat and kissed along the throbbing vein in his neck. “Tell me, has anyone ever owned you?”
His attention fully encompassed by the slow, methodical stroking of Draco’s hand, Neville was finding it difficult to work his tongue, so he simply shook his head instead.
“Have you been fucked?”
He nodded and shuddered as his balls were gently caressed by soap-slicked fingers. “Once.”
Draco’s mouth was suddenly pressing against Neville’s earlobe, kissing gently. He purred, “Then I’ll go slow tonight, but know this: I’m going to make you utterly mine, Neville. I’m going to make sure you won’t want to leave my bed.”
“Fuck yes,” Neville sighed as Draco angled their mouths together and kissed him as he’d never been kissed before.
~.~.~.~.~
Every muscle ached, but in a good way.
Neville stretched, trying to work out the kinks. He yawned and flexed his toes and fingers…winced. His arse was hot, sore and his balls throbbed, and not even Malfoy’s expensive silk bedsheets, with their cool, smooth glide over his naked skin, could ease that hurt.
He smiled.
Last night had been a revelation of more than one kind. He’d been well and truly owned as promised, to the tune of several orgasms. He hadn’t even realised such a thing could be possible, and yet Draco’s skill in a variety of exotic sexual techniques had extracted every ounce of pleasure out of him.
Turning his head, he was surprised to find his lover was awake as well, on his side, watching him silent and cat-like.
“’Morning,” Neville mumbled, acutely aware that his mouth was going to need a good rinsing. He tried not to breathe too hard.
Malfoy’s lids lowered and his lips curled with arrogant satisfaction, and Neville was sure he was reliving the best moments of their time together last night in his head. “Good morning. How do you feel?”
It never failed to amaze him that Draco was a caretaker, but then that was the role of a good dominant, wasn’t it?
With a grunt, Neville sat up…and immediately regretted it. “Alive,” he said, and it lacked the jubilance he felt in his soul, so he tried again. “Fulfilled.” He looked over at his lover. “More content than I’ve ever been.” He felt his cheeks go hot, feeling inept with his words. “I’ve imagined it enough, but I never thought…well, that it could be that good.”
Malfoy’s smile widened and it reminded Neville of a feline predator’s, all feral and assured. “So you wouldn’t be adverse to the idea of exploring this further, I take it?”
His heart leapt in his chest in joy. “Absolutely!” he said, and realised he sounded like some sort of teenage yump, overly excited for another plateful of food. “I mean, I’d like that.”
His lover chuckled and sat up as well, reaching for him. In a quick pounce, Malfoy had him on his back again.
“A kiss to seal the deal, then?”
Neville’s face went fireball hot. “Er, I should brush first.”
Malfoy laughed, and it was a deeply masculine, darkly possessive sound. “I like the way you taste,” the man all but purred as he licked at Neville’s lips and kissed him hard.
“How’s that?” Neville dared to ask when he could breathe again, allowing his lover to spread his legs and rest between them so their slowly hardening erections kissed, too.
His lover pressed his mouth to Neville’s ear and whispered, “Like you’re finally mine.”
An hour later, Neville laid back, blissed out, wondering what any of his friends or family would say if he told them he thought he was falling in love with Draco Malfoy.
…And he realised he didn’t really care what their opinions would be, or what society thought of what he was, because somewhere between this last romp, when Draco had been moving deep inside him, slow and easy because he knew Neville was stretched and sore, and as he now watched Draco come out of the shower with only a towel around his hips and his hair sticking up everywhere, that his new lover was his, too.
Who cared what anyone else thought. He was in love.
~.~.~.~.~
The stifling heatwave passed over Hogwarts two weeks later, two days before the start of school.
Good timing.
Neville’s greenhouses had been saved. In fact, they’d never looked so happy and alive.
Everything was healed, every flowering plant was blooming. The Singing Azaleas wouldn’t shut up, and it was driving the Crabgrass mad, but the baby Mandrakes seemed to like the endlessly-looping lullaby, so Neville let it be.
“They look good,” Malfoy said coming up beside him. “You’ve a way with them I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone have with plants, not even Sprout.” He wrapped an arm around Neville’s waist, pulling them together. “It’s your kindness. It…speaks to those who need gentling.”
Neville returned a vial of Bitterroot Balsam to the satchel, its use a success on a heat-blistered Sopophorus plant. “It was your idea to heal them, rather than just repot and water them and hope for the best. Only someone with a good heart, someone who cared enough could have come up with a solution to their suffering.” He knew Draco, with his dark past, would read between the lines and really understand what he was getting at. “In fact, I owe you a great deal for helping out in the greenhouse these last several weeks,” he continued. “Without you all of this might have been lost.” He looked around at the trade of his life, proud of the work he and his lover had done to assure it survived. “I might have lost my job had we lost these plants. So, really, you’re my life-saver. Thank you.”
Draco’s head tilted as he considered him, and that lovely pink flush that Neville was only now realising was something he and no other was privy to, as Draco never let his guard down around others, painted his pale cheeks. His eyes glittered with interest.
“A saviour, huh? That’s a first. No one’s ever called me that before.”
Neville turned to him, taking Draco in his arms. He nipped Draco’s earlobe, which had become their pre-arranged signal for sex. “Want to save me again now?” he offered, feeling strangely aroused of a sudden. They’d shagged once already this morning, but Neville was dying for another go.
“Here?” Malfoy’s voice had lowered, moving into that register that indicated growing arousal. In a flash, he regained the confidence that came with the knowledge that his sexual prowess was unequalled, at least as far as Neville was concerned. “My, my, Neville…haven’t you become bold?”
Using his wand, Neville closed and locked all the doors around them, and then he reached for Draco’s belt.
“I blame the heatwave,” he said, falling to his knees before his lover and taking down his jeans. “There’s something about seeing you in Muggle jeans, all sweaty and dirty… I can’t help myself.”
As he took Draco’s hard length into his mouth, the man gasped and reached out to run his fingers through Neville’s hair. “Thank fuck for bad weather!” he said and thrust with a pleasure-filled groan.
Far above, a cleansing rain finally started to fall, bringing with it a clearing of the air. It pinged off the greenhouse glass and ran in rivulets over the side, cleaning out the gutters.
The suffocating summer was officially over.
~FIN~