"Longbottom."

Neville cringed (inwardly, he hoped, but he didn't think there was much chance of that) and turned around.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

And then he was pushed up against the wall.

Damn it. Neville had been hoping for a quick delivery, a drink with Ron and Harry, and getting out of the Hog's Head without seeing Snape or Malfoy. There were still a few good hours of sunlight left, and he'd been planning on spending them in his garden, not pinned next to the men's room door by Draco Malfoy. He sighed. Well, maybe he could just butt Malfoy with his shoulder and make a run for it.

"You're a poof, aren't you?"

Of all the things Neville had thought Malfoy might say to him, that didn't rank in the top...million. Neville blinked, opened his mouth, then blinked again. Malfoy made an exasperated noise and stepped back, pushing his stringy hair out of his eyes. It was getting long like Snape's, Neville noticed, then wondered when he'd started noticing things like Malfoy's hair. Or Snape's for that matter.

"Look, you either are or you aren't," said Malfoy, putting one hand on his hip. "It's a simple question."

"It's-- it's really not," Neville croaked, even though his throat felt dry as parchment. "Why would you want to know, anyway? Did Goyle become a housefly animagus, and you can't wait to have him tell everyone at Hogwarts?"

Malfoy laughed, a rusty noise that made it sound like he was out of practice. "Goyle couldn't transform a housefly into a housefly without killing it, and you think he's an illegal animagus? And you know I'm not going back to Hogwarts this year, so why would I care about that? No. I just want to know."

Neville bit his lip. "Well, I'm not. So see you around." Malfoy was taller than him, but also thinner and looking skinnier every day; Neville could definitely knock him over and then maybe petrify him before running back inside the pub.

"Maybe you're not getting this," said Malfoy. He put his palm flat against the wall, right next to Neville's head. Neville looked at it, examining the frayed cuffs of Malfoy's maroon jumper. "This is a proposition. I can't take another night of family fun with the Weasleys, so I'm staying here tonight."

"Here?" Neville asked, wrinkling his nose. Everything smelled like ground up troll bones and the wallpaper was peeling. Plus, the owner was terrifying. Neville only came here when asked to deliver herbs for the Order, and his Gran only let him because she thought he was being a hero like his mum and dad -- even if flower arrangements didn't exactly strike Neville as the height of heroics.

"Yeah. The owner said it was all right as long as I stayed in my room, since I'm under Order protection and all. So...will you?"

"Will I what?"

Malfoy sighed. "God, you are as stupid as you look. I'm looking to get off. I can tell you like blokes even if you won't admit it, so come back here tonight. Okay?"

Neville wanted to shake his head, he did, but there was this panic in Malfoy's eyes that he couldn't ignore. Damn it. He should have known going to the bathroom would be a bad idea. Neville nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll come."

"All right then." Malfoy smirked. "Ask the bartender for me and try not to piss yourself before you get upstairs. I'm not exactly looking for tea and conversation."

Guess I won't bring you flowers then, Neville thought, but even though that was a pretty good comeback, he couldn't get the words out. He nodded instead, and Malfoy spun on his heel and flounced back into the pub.

"All right, Neville?" Ron asked as Neville slid back into the booth.

You're a poof, aren't you? echoed Malfoy's voice, over and over in the back of his head. How had Malfoy known? Did Neville walk funny or emit some pheromone that only other poofs-- homo-- gay-- blokes who liked blokes could detect?

"Fine," he said flatly, reaching for his now-warm butterbeer. Neville made a face. The bottle was all dusty and it tasted too gross and sweet for August. For the first time in his life, Neville wished for something stronger.

Harry tipped back his chair, which looked incredibly cool. If Neville had tried that, he'd be in a heap on the floor and the chair would most likely be in a hundred pieces. "I saw Malfoy flying out of the bathroom right before you. Did something happen?"

"Nothing happened. It's just Malfoy." Just Malfoy luring him into some twisted gay sex orgy ring, that was.

"Well, watch out for him. I know we're protecting him and his mum, but he's not all there. Trust me, I know. He's a Slytherin."

Not anymore. "Malfoy's not going back to school," Neville said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "As a matter of fact, neither are you two. So I don't see why it matters."

Harry's chair slammed down on the floor, making him grab the table for balance. "Whoa," said Ron. They both looked at him with wide eyes.

Neville looked away. He finished his bottle in three huge gulps and stood. "Sorry. I've got to get back. My Gran's expecting me."

"Sorry," mumbled Harry, glancing over Neville's shoulder. Neville looked and saw Malfoy watching them.

"Don't worry about it," Neville sighed. "I can take care of myself."

"'Course you can, Nev," Ron said. Harry nodded. Neville threw down a handful of Sickles for his drink and gave a halfhearted wave before sticking his hands into his pockets and wandering outside.

Neville felt awful for blowing up at Harry. He didn't even know why he had! Defending Malfoy. He was out of his mind. God! He'd just been trying to go to the bathroom! And now he'd yelled at his friends and agreed to some illicit encounter in a seedy inn. He was never going to the bathroom again.

Neville sneezed, climbed three stairs, then sneezed again. There was dust everywhere, and the bartender had been the least helpful person ever. When Neville had asked for Draco Malfoy's room, the man had grunted and pointed at the stairs like Neville couldn't have worked out that much on his own. He still wasn't even completely sure why he was here, and the revelation that his hormones might really have so much of a hold on him was an unsettling one at best. Shaking his head, Neville wheezed and continued on up to the top of the stairs.

Which didn't help much, other than dispersing the dust some. All the doors looked the same, and there was no telling which was Malfoy's. Neville snorted. What was he expecting, pink sparkly letters spelling out 'GAY DRACO MALFOY INSIDE'?

He decided knocking on a random door would be safe. It'd be hard to miss a teenaged boy with white-blond hair after all, had anyone seen him. And if they hadn't, Neville could just try another door.

Right then. Neville took a deep breath and knocked on the first door. The door creaked open.

"EVIL! SOUL O' THE DEVIL! BURN THE HEATHEN," shouted the hag behind door number one, pointing at Neville. Neville's eyes widened and he jumped back, right into Malfoy.

"Idiot," Malfoy muttered. He made a shooing motion at the hag, who was still ranting incoherently. "Begone, harpy!"

But it was Malfoy that left, pulling Neville across the hall as he went. Malfoy slammed the door behind him, and Neville immediately got that fluttery butterfly feeling he always got in Snape's class. That really wasn't an association he wanted to make right now, all things considered.

Malfoy frogmarched Neville into the room and pushed him. Neville fell backwards onto the bed, but caught himself before he could tumble off it again. "I gave you one task, and you fucked it up. It's any wonder you manage to deliver your little flowers at all. Or feed yourself, for that matter."

Neville glowered from the bed. "The bartender didn't tell me which room was yours. I kind of had to make do with no information."

"Whatever," Malfoy said, pursing his lips. It made him look even more like a ferret than usual. Then, suddenly, he straddled Neville's thighs, shoved Neville back into the mattress, and kissed him.

Oh, God.

For some reason, kissing had never entered Neville's getting gay with Malfoy equation. Maybe it was just because Neville had never had a getting gay with Malfoy equation before, or maybe because he figured because Malfoy was just desperate whatever he wanted had to be really efficient and orgasm-focused.

Of course, just as Neville had his orgasm-focused thought, Malfoy licked Neville's bottom lip and pushed his tongue inside Neville's mouth. The rush of want Neville felt was just embarrassing, no matter what he was there for.

Neville broke the kiss. Damn it. His first kiss...his first everything was going to be wasted on Malfoy.

"I can't do this," he mumbled. Neville pushed Malfoy off. Malfoy made a noise of protest; his eyes were wide and the faintest blush stained his cheeks.

"Was it that bad?" Malfoy asked, trying to sneer and not quite making it.

Neville blinked. "No." For some reason, ideas of decadent Slytherin bacchanals that Neville hadn't even known he'd had disappeared. "Not bad."

"Then what?"

"Er. I just." Neville propped himself onto his elbows. "You're really pushy!" he blurted. "You cornered me coming out of the bathroom to ask me if I want to go to your seedy hotel room with you, and then you get mad at me for not knowing where to go when no one even told me. And then you're kissing me and I don't even know why I'm here in the first place! I can't be the only person who'd get off with you. It's not possible."

Malfoy opened his mouth, then shut it; Neville felt the teeniest bit of pride in making Malfoy speechless for once.

Neville sighed. "I'll just go."

"Don't," Malfoy said, catching his wrist. "I asked you because I know you can keep a secret. No one knew about your parents until my aunt escaped from Azkaban." Neville looked away. "Unlike Potter."

"Harry didn't know about his parents until way after everyone else did," Neville pointed out, examining the way Malfoy's bony fingers circled his wrist. "I was too scared to tell anyone about mine. That's not a good thing."

"But you'll keep this quiet."

Neville took a deep breath. "I'm not afraid of who I am. Not anymore. But this isn't anyone's business. Besides, your secret isn't mine to tell."

"Longbottom."

"Yes?" Neville finally looked at Malfoy again. His face had relaxed some, but his eyes were still wide. It made him look tired, younger.

"Don't go," Malfoy said. "I'll stop pushing. But..."

Neville cut off whatever Malfoy was going to say with a kiss. He surprised even himself with that, but Malfoy seemed receptive enough. This time, Neville pushed his way into Malfoy's mouth, hand against Malfoy's jaw, making Malfoy whimper. That was definitely good.

They ended up in an inexperienced tangle of limbs, half on, half off the bed, one Malfoy's legs hooked around Neville's hip, one of Neville's legs between Malfoy's. And then they were moving and, oh, that was even better.

Neville clutched at Malfoy's borrowed jumper and Malfoy got a handful of Neville's arse, then moved his hand up and up until his fingers slid across the patch of skin where Neville's shirt had ridden up. Malfoy's fingers were dry and warm and Neville imagined what they'd be like pushing beneath his waistband and curling around his cock.

Malfoy broke apart their kiss, looking flushed and shocked. "Uhm," he said, clearly flustered, "we should--"

"Touch," Neville agreed on a gasp, and even though he'd imagined Malfoy doing him, it was Neville that fumbled with Malfoy's trousers, getting out Malfoy's cock. He was really hard, at least as hard as Neville himself had to be, and though Neville wasn't completely sure what to do here, he thought he could figure it out.

"Dear God," Malfoy moaned as Neville gave an experimental stroke, then another. Malfoy's hands made their way to Neville's waistband, finally, and after about a million years (or ten seconds), Malfoy managed to undo the zip.

Neville groaned. Dear God was right. This was about at least ten times better than touching himself. Fifty times. A hundred. His hand was already cramping from the weird boytangle they were in, but he couldn't stop moving, moving, not when he felt like getting Malfoy off would be what got him off.

He pressed his mouth sloppily to Malfoy's and wanted everything. Neville bit Malfoy's mouth, sucked at his tongue, moaned when Malfoy licked the inside of Neville's mouth, and all the while their hands moved, moved, moved...

"Malfoy, don't stop, I'm going to--"

Neville shuddered, Malfoy right after him. They both flopped back against the bed. Neville searched for a handkerchief or towels or something, while Malfoy just wiped his hand on the bedspread. Neville wrinkled his nose, but seeing no other nearby options followed suit.

"Fuck, Longbottom."

That made Neville laugh. "Well, yes," he said. "Sort of."

"God, are all your jokes so lame?" demanded Malfoy. He didn't sound mean, though, just sort of sleepy.

"Maybe." Neville counted six cracks in the ceiling above them. "Did you want me to go now?"

"No. Don't go."

"Okay."

Malfoy had his arm thrown over his face, and Neville could just barely see the Dark Mark right at the cuff of his jumper. Maybe that was why Malfoy wore that huge Weasley jumper, even though it was summer and he surely hated it. Maybe Malfoy hated his Dark Mark more. Neville wondered if it ever hurt.

"Longbottom?"

"What, Malfoy?" Neville replied, trying not to sound startled by having his thoughts interrupted.

"Did you want to do this again?"

Neville felt a smile curling at the corners of his mouth. Maybe this wasn't the best idea. Maybe Goyle would turn out to be a homophobic fly-animagus out to get Neville after all. Maybe Malfoy would betray them and run back to the Death Eaters. It was all possible. But Neville still hadn't figured Malfoy out, and now...now he wanted to.

END