He hopes he'll be good at sex, whenever it happens. If it ever happens.

The curtains pulled tight around his bed, he casts a Silencing Charm. Knowing the charm is simply a matter of survival. All boys upon their arrival at Hogwarts learn to cast Silencing Charms, Cleaning Charms, and master a Lubrication Charm or two. Neville knows the deathly silence surrounding his bed gives him away. First of all, he snores, so it has to be obvious what he's doing. Some nights, when he's too tired or on days when he finishes Herbology earlier than the rest of his N.E.W.T. class, he doesn't need the charm, but then he hears the eerie quiet surrounding the Gryffindor Boys Dormitory and he knows some of his roommates have cast charms of their own.

That thought usually overrides any exhaustion Neville may be feeling.

Palm of his hand slick, he carefully manoeuvres the waistband of his pyjama bottoms, closing his eyes -- half in relief, half in pleasure -- once he slips inside. Worries of the day melt into dreamy fantasies as Neville leisurely pumps his fist, teasing himself. There's no time limit here and he likes seeing how long he can last because he knows that'll come in handy if anyone ever wants to touch him the way he touches himself. Neville bites his bottom lip, preventing any loud noise from escaping. There's the spell, of course, but Neville is paranoid and isn't particularly confident in his abilities. It doesn't even matter that he must have cast this charm, in this very context, hundreds of times. Thousands, maybe.

Not that he'd ever admit it to them, but Neville doesn't usually fantasise about the women in the magazines Dean and Seamus smuggle into the room, but rather, about the people he knows. Neville thinks this probably makes him a freak, but he can't help it, and when he's rubbing himself this way, -- ohGodsogood -- he doesn't particularly care.

He thinks Ginny's body would be soft and yielding and would love to see what a woman looks like naked up close. He likes her hair, the length of it, the colour, and he wonders what it'd be like to tangle his fingers through it, clutching fistfuls as he comes.

Ron's hair is nearly the same, but he knows that'd be different. Ron's body has gotten muscular after the year of playing Quidditch and Neville watches the way he handles his broom and, in Neville's fantasies, that translates to the bedroom. He knows what Ron looks like naked, of course, having shared a room with him for five years, but he's never seen him hard -- nor any boy, himself excepted -- and Neville wonders what faces Ron would make when thrown up against the wall, Neville's hand shoved roughly down his trousers. Would his skin flush and match his freckles?

A strangled cry catches in Neville's throat at the very thought.

Hermione knows everything and Neville thinks she'd know everything about sex, too, whether or not she's actually experienced it. If he concentrates hard enough, he can picture her straddling his hips, guiding his cock inside of her, moving up and down, and doing all the work. Hermione likes being in charge, he's sure of it, but sometimes, he's in charge of her instead.

But the one that sets him over the edge every time is the thought of Harry. It doesn't matter where or how, but it's always Harry. Tonight it's in the shower, Harry's tongue snaking into Neville's mouth, his small body pressed against Neville's. Neville gasps when Harry touches him, watches Harry's face without blinking because he knows if he blinks, Harry'll disappear. Neville can see the water running down Harry's face, the heat from the droplets turning his skin red. Harry pants and demands more and he always wants more of Neville and Neville can't do anything but give and give and give and soon he's coming hard, pretending his slippery hand is Harry's, wet from the shower. Harry's name is on his lips as he cries out noiselessly.

Neville's body relaxes and he gasps and blinks, familiarising himself with his surroundings again. He quickly casts the usual Cleaning Charm and, Harry still on his mind, he settles in for sleep. Neville hopes if he ever gets a chance to touch anyone for real, it'll be as good as his fantasies. Maybe it'll even be better.