As he was getting ready for bed, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Staring at his reflection, he traced the cursed lightning bolt shape onto his forehead. He then rubbed furiously at the spot, suddenly angry for ever having touched it. Sighing, Neville Longbottom cleaned his teeth and walked back into his dormitory.

He lay in bed, pulling the curtains closed around him and stared at the canopy's ceiling, mulling over the events that occurred earlier. Harry had taken his arm and led him to the side, Neville trying to ignore the shivers of excitement running up and down his spine at the touch. Harry looked flushed and insistent. He obviously had something important to say and it wouldn't do Harry any good to have Neville staring at his face, wondering what else might make him flush that lovely shade of pink.

In hushed tones, Harry urgently whispered, "He didn't want me to tell you, but I think you have a right to know and besides, he doesn't run my life anyway!" By the end of the statement, the urgent whisper had risen to something of a rant.

Neville was confused. Not that he wasn't accustomed to this emotion, but Harry usually didn't want to purposefully confound him. "Harry," he started tentatively, "what exactly are you talking about?"

"Oh. Oh, I'm sorry, Neville." Harry blushed again. Neville bit his lower lip in order to stop himself for reaching out for Harry's face. "The prophecy. You remember the prophecy in the Department of Mysteries?"

Remember? How could he forget? Stupid, clumsy Neville Longbottom let that prophecy slip through his fingers, crashing on the Department's floor. He nodded slowly, hoping Harry hadn't decided to let out some latent anger.

"You know that the prophecy had to do with me and Voldemort, right?" Another nod. "Well, Dumbledore told me at the end of last year that it had to do with you, too. The thing was made right before we were born - a baby at the end of July would have powers that could defeat Voldemort. It could have been either of us. I've got this," Harry said, tapping his scar, "because he chose me. I think because my mum was Muggleborn, but I'm not sure. Maybe he was planning on coming after you after he came after me. But there was no way of knowing who it was about until Voldemort attacked me."

Neville was floored, almost sure his power of speech would never return. Eventually, he found his voice, stammering, "It...could have been me? I could have been you? I-I mean, I c-could have been the one who defeated...You-Know-Who?" He felt his knees turn to water.

Harry nodded. "I just thought you had a right to know. But luckily," Harry said, his voice tinged with sadness and anger, "he picked me." Harry offered Neville an encouraging smile, which Neville couldn't return. He'd just wandered off to prepare for sleep.

Which brought him to where he was now, sombrely staring at the ceiling, mulling over the life he could have led as the Boy Who Lived. He couldn't imagine it. Harry was everything he was not - powerful, outspoken, and always, always brave. Neville would have died from a heart attack before he reached his twelfth birthday with that kind of responsibility.

Unable to sleep, he reached into his pyjama bottoms and half-heartedly began jerking off, hoping that would help him sleep. He tried drawing up visions of Harry's flushed face, but instead kept hearing Harry's voice reporting the newest complication in his life over and over. A minute later, he sighed in frustration and gave up. No matter how good that visual stimulus may be, the worried thoughts crowded Neville's mind. He sighed and pushed his curtains open again, planning on getting a glass of water. As he moved to swing his feet over the side, he suddenly stopped. Harry was staring directly at him from the next bed over. Neville felt a little breath catch in his throat.

"Harry, are you all right?" he whispered.

Harry nodded and sat up. He walked over to Neville's bed and asked huskily, "Couldn't sleep. Was thinking about you - about our conversation. Do you mind if I stay over here with you for a bit?"

Neville swallowed hard and nodded, not trusting his voice to actual words. He scooted over on the bed, making room for Harry. Harry settled next to Neville and Neville unsuccessfully tried ignoring the fact that many parts of his anatomy were now touching Harry's.

Harry rolled over onto his side, so Neville did the same. "Neville, it's okay about what happened before. You're lucky that it wasn't you."

By some miracle, Neville found his voice. "I know that, Harry. I could never have handled all this. I certainly don't wish that I had to go through everything you did. You...you're brilliant." Neville blurted this out before he had a chance to stop himself. He felt hotness spread across his face.

Harry stared at him, wide-eyed. Neville liked how Harry looked without his glasses. In a quiet voice, Harry said, "You really think that? That...that I'm brilliant?"

Neville nodded, only stopping when Harry's lips crashed into his. Oh. Oh. He heard himself make a small mewling noise. The kiss grew urgent and Neville parted his lips to make room for the probing tongue. Tentatively, he sucked on Harry's tongue, pleased when he heard Harry moan pleasantly against his mouth.

Harry rolled Neville onto his back and began kissing him in earnest. Neville was desperately trying not to make any noise when Harry pulled back. He looked down on Neville and asked, "Could you cast a Silencing Spell?"

A Silencing Spell! Of course. Neville fumbled for his wand and muttered the incantation. All sounds of the night died away, leaving only Harry's ragged breathing.

Desperation flooded Harry's eyes. "I...I just want to forget for awhile. I can trust you. We're in this together, right?" Neville nodded, unsure. "Please help me forget," Harry pleaded.

When the pleas fell on Neville's ears, he grew achingly hard. Reaching up to claim Harry's lips again, he nodded. "I want to help you," he said honestly. Neville laid a trail of kisses down Harry's neck. He'd never done anything like this at all, but judging by the noises Harry was making, that didn't seem to matter. Hand hovering over Harry's pyjama top, he breathed, "Is this all right?"

Harry nodded, this time the one at a loss. He rolled off Neville, so the other boy could get better access. Hand shaking slightly, Neville grappled with the buttons, finally opening the shirt all the way. Harry shrugged off the garment, still staring at Neville wide-eyed. It seemed that neither was sure exactly what to do. Neville settled for gingerly licking Harry's chest. When his tongue raked over one of Harry's nipples, Harry hissed sharply. Neville tried again, enjoying Harry's reaction. "Oh!" cried Harry. "That's...that's amazing." Neville kissed a line down Harry's stomach, before moving up to Harry's face, wanting to kiss him again.

Hungrily, they investigated each other's mouths. Harry bucked his hips, causing their erections to grind together. Neville groaned loudly, shocked that he could make that much noise with just one thrust. Harry's eyes, now darkened with lust, stared intently at him. "Take off your shirt," he directed. Neville was only too happy to comply, though once the shirt was off, he felt rather embarrassed about his still somewhat podgy frame in comparison to Harry's lean one. Harry, though, said nothing. Instead, he flipped Neville onto his back and started kissing a path down Neville's chest and stomach.

When he'd kissed his way down to Neville's waistband, Harry's hand lingered over the material. Knowing his hormones had driven him completely out of his mind, Neville bobbed his head encouragingly. He sighed in relief when the offending material was removed. "Are you sure you're okay with this?" Neville nodded. Harry experimentally wrapped his hand around Neville's cock, while Neville gasped and shuddered at the touch. Confidence obviously bolstered, Harry began to pump his fist up and down, closely watching Neville's every reaction. Neville threw his head back, closing his eyes. He was fairly sure he'd never felt this good in his entire life.

Oh. No, no. That was a complete lie. As a warm mouth engulfed him, Neville decided this was the single best thing that he'd ever felt in his life. Harry licked his way up his shaft and then flicked his tongue over the head. Shockwaves of pleasure moved throughout Neville's whole body. "Have you ever done this before?" Neville gasped.

He immediately regretted it, as Harry removed his mouth to answer. "No, never," he giggled. "Have you?"

Neville shook his head violently. "Do you think you could do that some more?" He was embarrassed before the question was even out of his mouth, but Harry only grinned and returned to his enthusiastic sucking.

Now, Neville was a teenaged boy and had never done anything like this, so when he felt Harry's hand fondle his balls, his hips bucked desperately and he chanted a mantra of "HarryHarryHarryOhGodsHarryHarryHarry" before coming with a shouted "Oh!" The bed shook with the force of his orgasm and Neville prayed that furniture was also affected by silencing charms.

Trying to get his bearings, he blinked owlishly and stared into Harry's face, which was definitely flushed with lust. Despite having just exploded into Harry's mouth, he felt his still sensitive member twitch again. It turned into more than a twitch when Harry confessed, "Neville, I want to be inside you." Harry suddenly looked shy. "If...if that's all right."

"All right," he heard himself agree, barely recognising his lust-coated voice. "I'm not really sure what to do, though," he confessed.

Harry smiled. "We can figure it out together." Nervously rubbing the back of his head, he quickly asked, "Do you have...anylubeoranything?"

Self-consciously, Neville nodded, reaching under one of his pillows to retrieve the small jar of petroleum jelly he kept inside the confines of his bed. His Gran would kill him if she ever found out about it, but what she didn't know couldn't hurt her. Neville berated himself for thinking of his Gran at such an inopportune moment, but the thought was pushed away when he felt Harry's hand wrap around him again, gently coaxing him to full hardness again. He handed the jar over, noticing that Harry had removed his pyjama bottoms, revealing a very hard and - what Neville thought to be - quite impressive erection.

Harry peered at Neville carefully. "Why don't you touch yourself?" he suggested, smearing some of the jelly from his hand onto Neville. Neville nervously agreed and began stroking himself. "Spread your legs a bit," Harry whispered.

Neville complied and gasped when he felt one lube-covered finger enter him. There was a little pain, but mostly it was just a different sensation. In conjunction with his own efforts, Neville rather liked the feeling. "More," he pleaded. Harry immediately complied, adding a second finger. When Harry's fingers pushed deep inside him, his eyes widened. "Oh! Whatever you just did, do it again." Harry did and tried adding a third finger. Neville grimaced a bit, not used to that particular pressure.

"I think you have to relax," Harry said helpfully. The advice, plus the sight of Harry stroking himself with his free hand helped Neville override the pain. He took a couple of deep breaths and relaxed somewhat. Harry withdrew his fingers slowly and Neville was surprised to realise he regretted the loss. "Still all right?" asked Harry.

Neville nodded. "Fine, actually. I...," he trailed off, suddenly feeling shy. He took a deep breath and said, "I want to feel you in me. Please."

Harry leaned over and kissed Neville deeply, who once again felt his breath hitch in his throat. Then, Harry coated his own erection with the petroleum jelly and slowly began to push his way inside of Neville. He hissed as he pushed passed the ring of muscle and Neville had to force himself to relax again. Slowly, slowly, Harry pushed all the way inside. He cried out as soon as he started moving within Neville. "Oh my God, Neville," Harry panted. "You feel so bloody good."

He began rocking a bit faster. Harry pressed against the same spot that he'd found earlier with his fingers and Neville moaned loudly. "Oh, that feels fantastic. Go faster," he implored, jerking his hips up to meet Harry. Harry nodded and braced Neville's hips. Neville clutching himself, moving his fist faster and faster, as Harry began pounding into him. Harry's breath grew more and more ragged and he started babbling a series of profanities, ending in "Oh God, Oh God, Neville, I'm going to come!" Neville felt something warm shoot within him as he brought himself to completion for the second time that night.

After a moment, Harry slowly withdrew himself from Neville and flopped down next to him. "What word is better than brilliant?"

"What?" Neville wasn't really in the right frame-of-mind for riddles.

"That was just the single best thing I've ever done." Harry grinned dopily and Neville knew his face must look much the same. "Thank you, Neville. Thanks for letting me forget for a little while." Harry hunted down his sleepwear and got dressed. Neville slowly did so, too.

Harry wrapped his body around Neville's and dreamily settled himself into sleep. Neville was surprised that instead of relaxing, some new worries invaded his head. Did Harry really commiserate with him? Or was he just - as Harry had said - a way to forget for a little while? Neville looked at Harry, knowing he'd never be able to measure up. He doubted Harry knew what Neville had felt before this even occurred. Harry's expression was peaceful; the mirror opposite to Neville's wrinkled brow.

A way to forget.

A distraction.

The Boy That Wasn't.

Always, always the fool.