t h e . s e c r e t . s h a r e r

The Secret Sharer
[by victoria p.]

Rating: PG

Summary: Harry's not the only one with secrets.

Notes: Thanks as always to Jen, Pete/Melissa, Dot, and Meg. Written for StellaMaru, who requested "Neville, Sneakoscope, infatuated."

Date: March 9, 2004

In the silence of the dormitory, every sound is magnified. Neville's mastery of defensive spells has not extended to Silencio, so he relies on the time-honored method of biting down on his pillow to muffle his gasps and moans as he wanks. It's not as if they don't all do it. Ron mumbles Hermione's name, and Seamus, Lavender's. Since he's begun seeing Ginny, Dean is much more assiduous with his silencing charms. Neville doesn't blame him. He wouldn't want to get caught muttering Ginny's name with his hand on his prick, not with Ron in the same room.

But it is not Ginny or Lavender or even Parvati's face that Neville sees when he closes his eyes. It is not soft curves and long hair that smells of mysterious girlish things that makes his cock twitch.

No, Neville daydreams of a lanky body just beginning to broaden at the shoulders, green eyes behind smudged glasses, and messy black hair that smells of sweat and grass and a hint of something Neville can't identify, so he imagines it must be Harry.

He manages to keep his infatuation to himself for the first few weeks of term; his blushes when Harry compliments him on his dueling form during DA meetings are natural, the result of his delight at no longer being as clumsy as he once was.

The fight in the Department of Mysteries has changed everything, and he wishes he could offer the comfort Harry so desperately needs, the comfort he won't take from Ron and Hermione. But Harry likes girls, and he is sure that even if Harry didn't, he wouldn't want Neville.

He is helping Harry pack up after one such meeting, putting the pocket sneakoscope back in Harry's bag, when Harry says, "It's all right, you know."

"What? What is?"

"Talking about, you know, that night."

"That night?" Neville thinks he may have wandered into someone else's conversation.

"At the -- you know. That Night."

And now he hears the capital letters, and he realizes-- "Oh."

"Yeah." Harry shrugs and pushes his glasses up his nose. He is half-turned away from Neville, skinny body dwarfed by his Weasley jumper, but Neville can see beneath, the sharp jut of his shoulder blades, the hollow cage of his ribs. "Only, only you, though. 'Cause you know. I mean, it could have been -- it still could be--" Neville doesn't want to hear anymore, but Harry doesn't stop talking. "It could have been you. Probably should have been."

Neville stares at him for a moment, then, "What?" He can't mean-- "You can't mean--"

"You could have been the Boy Who Lived, Neville."

Neville backs away, almost drops his wand. "No."

Harry shrugs, though for the first time in a long time, his face holds a spark of animation. It's been missing since that night. "Yeah. Dumbledore told me, and he should tell you. He wants me to keep it a secret. But I'm through keeping secrets. The Prophecy could have been about you."

"No," Neville says again, and his voice shakes, his hands tremble.

Harry turns toward him, reaches out a hand, and Neville takes it. Harry opens his mouth to speak again, but Neville has heard enough. He pulls Harry close, feels his delicate bones and his heart racing like the wings of a hummingbird. Neville is willing to endure the humiliation, the hexing afterward, but Harry has to shut up now, and this is the only thing Neville can think of to make him stop talking. Sometimes, it's all he thinks of.

He presses his lips to Harry's open mouth.

Harry's eyes flutter closed, lashes impossibly long beneath his glasses, and Neville follows suit, hands gripping skinny shoulders, lips moving against warm, soft, chapped lips.

Harry breaks the kiss with a gasp, but he doesn't seem offended, remains in Neville's grasp. They are both breathing heavily, and Harry says, "What was that for?"

"You're not the only one with secrets. And you were talking too much."

Harry laughs nervously, but still doesn't pull away, so Neville kisses him again, more sure this time, and after another surprised gasp, Harry responds, tentatively licking at Neville's tongue. Neville shivers at the touch and is glad they've shared their secrets.

end

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Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters belong to JK Rowling., Scholastic, etc. This piece of fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights.