Painted Stars

Neville had long since finished brushing his teeth, but even so, his toothbrush hung precariously from his mouth as he remained standing in the shower completely unfazed by the hot stream of water still beating down over his head and shoulders. His mind was too preoccupied by the scene that had just taken place in the bedroom, and the subsequent questions which had arisen from it, for him to even realise that he should at least spit the remaining toothpaste out and the foam was slowly streaming down his chin onto his chest and stomach before finally dropping to the floor to be washed down the drain. 

Why on earth is Harry here at the cabin? he wondered.

Did Luna and Rolf plan this together? Or was it just that cunning little blonde on her own? 

Does the fact that they offered the cabin to both Harry and myself mean that she knows something about the way that Harry feels about me? In the same way that she knows how I feel about him?

What does Harry feel for me? If the flush that stained his cheeks and the hardened bulge in his jeans are any indication, he mused, then our feelings must be quite similar indeed, at least in a couple of areas. 

His cock ached at the memory of Harry's hardness, especially at the possibility that he'd been the one to cause it, and the toothbrush slipped from Neville's mouth and clattered to the floor of the tub as he recalled the flustered expression that Harry wore while attempting to not let his eyes wander too far down his body. 

Smiling, he spat the remainder of the paste from his mouth and rinsed it out before picking up the fallen toothbrush and setting it on the windowsill beside him. He then palmed his cock and began to stroke it while remembering the lust that had clouded Harry's gorgeous green eyes, basking in the knowledge that it had been he who had filled them with it. 

As Neville's hand skimmed up and down his rod, bringing him closer to climax with each stroke, he made himself a promise: I'm not going to leave this cabin until I've found out, once and for all, whether or not Harry wants me as badly as I want him. And if he does? I'm going to make him mine.

___

Harry paced frantically back and forth in front of the range as he waited for the kettle to boil and, more importantly, for Neville to finish his shower and come down to join him so that they could finish discussing the predicament in which they currently found themselves. He looked back over at the pot of Floo powder that was sitting on the kitchen mantle and frowned with worry. While he'd never admit to such an act of panicked cowardice, the first thing he'd done after retreating back downstairs was to rush over to the fire and attempt to head back to Luna and Rolf's to find out what had happened. 

But Neville and his dilemma was exacerbated when, rather than turning the brilliant shade of green that he'd been expecting, the flames flickered and melded into the cheery faces of Luna and Rolf, explaining that they were away on holiday until Saturday the Fourth of January—only one day before Harry himself had planned his return trip home—and as such their Floo would be inaccessible by the network until then. 

Glancing nervously back towards the staircase from which he expected Neville would soon appear, Harry's mind wandered—quite without his permission, he might add—back to the moment when Neville had unexpectedly let out one of the sexiest moans that Harry had ever heard. He hadn't meant to glance back in Nev's direction—it had simply been a reaction of instinct—and had only lasted for a moment, but that moment was more than enough...

Suddenly struggling to breathe, Harry licked his lips and closed his eyes against the memory as the vision of Neville stroking his gorgeous cock filled his mind. Running a skilled thumb over his knob, which had caused the light to shift, revealing the slightest glint at the tip of its head. At the time that it had happened, Harry had panicked and instantly looked away, searching the floor for his bag and struggling to secure it on his shoulder. But now that he was alone and his mind seemed bent on replaying the moment on repeat, he puzzled over that glint.

Precum? Harry wondered, before the sudden, erotic truth of the matter hit him square in the chest. A ring. 

Neville Longbottom, prim and proper and buttoned-up as could be, not only had been hiding a glorious expanse of muscle and tattoos beneath his three-piece suits and elbow-patched cardigans, but he'd also pierced that perfect cock of his. A piercing which suddenly found itself at the centre of an unexpected fantasy that Harry found himself whimpering over as he thought of how it would feel pressed against his prostate before pushing deeper inside of him.

No, no, no! his inner monologue chided at the images racing through his mind. Rushing over to the sink, he turned the faucet on full-blast, leaned down and splashed his face repeatedly with water as cold as mountain runoff. Finally nudging the sink off, he closed his eyes and remained bent over it, nearly panting with the effort of trying as best he could to calm his racing mind.

He was so distracted by his thoughts that he didn't even hear the kettle when it began to whistle, or when the high pitched trill had slowly faded upon Neville padding into the kitchen and turning off the burner beneath it. In fact, he didn't hear a thing until the soft clearing of a throat came from directly behind him, paired with a light squeeze to his shoulder, which nearly caused him to jump out of his skin. 

___

As Neville descended down the staircase from the bedroom above, he could hear the high-pitched wail of a kettle coming from the kitchen and concern spiked in his gut when the sound continued. Taking the last few steps two at a time, his brow furrowed as he turned the corner and spotted Harry hunched over the sink as if in pain. 

"Harry?" he called out, as he made his way over to the range and moved the kettle off the heat. "Is everything alright?" When he was given no response his concern spiked again and he rushed over to where Harry was still bowed down. Reaching out hesitantly, he cleared his throat and gently squeezed Harry's shoulder, careful not to press it too tightly lest he already be suffering some sort of injury. 

The moment his fingers connected, Harry jumped, immediately straightening and turning. His verdant eyes were wide and slightly wild as they came face-to-face. Looking him over for injury, Neville's initial concern gave way to an affectionate sort of amusement as he took in Harry's slightly rumpled, but seemingly intact, state. His hands and face were wet, as though he'd been splashing it in an attempt to calm down, and droplets of water still clung to his lush black lashes and the tip of his nose. 

Unable to keep the amused, yet adoring, smile from his face, Neville stepped closer to Harry and reached for the fluffy white tea towel beside his hip. He delighted in the blush that burst across Harry's cheeks at his nearness and did his best not to let the slight inhalation of breath that accompanied it go to his head. 

All in due time, he thought. 

"Alright?" he murmured softly, and watched with barely contained joy as Harry's gaze dropped from his eyes to his lips at the question. 

Harry nodded but seemed unable to formulate a reply as Neville reached up and gently wiped the remaining moisture from his face. Seeming not to notice that he had begun to lean in closer, as though drawn to him by magnetic force, Harry's eyes fluttered shut and his lips parted when, with a feather-soft touch, Neville took special care to gently slick back and stroke the baby hairs at his temples. The expression that had settled across his face was one of such unadulterated bliss that it caused Neville's heart to lurch in his chest and his already budding hope began to flower. 

Overcome with the sudden urge to taste him, Neville had to forcibly stop himself from wrapping his arms about Harry's waist and leaning down to claim his mouth in a searing kiss. Instead, he roughly bit his inner cheek until the metallic tang of copper burst across his tongue, and slowly drew away. 

The time wasn't right. He wouldn't allow himself the indulgence of Harry's lips just yet—at least not until he was certain that's what Harry wanted. And so, with one final stroke to the tip of Harry's nose, Neville stepped back a few inches more and placed the cloth in Harry's hands so that he could dry them. 

As though he could feel his presence withdraw, Harry slowly blinked his evergreen eyes open and peered dreamily up into Neville's winter gaze. And so it was that the two men found themselves standing blanketed in the silence of the cabin and searching one another's faces for answers to questions that neither of them were yet ready to speak aloud. That is, until Harry suddenly seemed to remember himself and, flushing, he dropped his gaze down to his hands where, quite to his surprise, he found a hand towel that he couldn't recall picking up. Turning an even deeper shade of crimson, and much to the delight of Neville who still stood drinking in the sight of him, Harry let out a nervous chuckle. 

Slipping past the handsome blond, who he found more capable of discombobulating him than ever, Harry nodded even though he couldn't seem to remember what the question had been that Neville had posed to him. Struggling to come up with some way of distracting himself from the questions—and fantasies—that were currently clouding his mind, Harry made his way over towards the range, mentally kicking himself when he bumped into the corner of the kitchen table on his way. 

Behind him, a dashing smile came to rest upon Neville's lips as he watched Harry's increasingly flustered demeanour with ever-growing delight. 

Drawing closer to the stove, Harry called out to Neville over his shoulder in an overly chipper voice. "I put the kettle on to boil so we might enjoy a spot of tea. It should only be a moment or two more."

And while he may have missed Neville's smile as it transformed into a full-on grin, he could still hear the amused satisfaction in Nev's voice when he softly replied, "I know. I turned it off when I joined you in the kitchen... due to all the whistling and whatnot."

Sure enough, Harry could still see the steam as it rose from the kettle's spout, much to his own mortification. Of course, he thought. This day just gets better and better.  Further embarrassing himself in front of Neville had not been at the top of his list of things to do, but he powered through the discomfort before turning back around with a bashful smile and downcast eyes. 

"Right you are," he said, struggling against the urge to fidget. "Thank you. I've no clue how I missed it."

When he finally managed to fix his gaze back on Neville, Harry found his longtime crush leaning casually back against the kitchen sink. A cheeky smile rested upon his lush lips, which caused Harry to smile back at him in return. They stood like that, happily gazing back at one another, until Neville finally pushed off the counter and crossed over to the kitchen table. He pulled out a chair and then walked over and met Harry at the stove.  

Harry's pulse quickened in response as Neville wrapped one arm around his waist before softly pressing nimble fingers into the small of his back and nodding towards the vacant seat.

 "You must have had to get up pretty early in order to catch Luna and Rolf before their flight," he said amiably, his voice velvety with affection. "Why don't you take a seat and relax? You can catch me up on how you've been while I fix us up a couple of cuppas. Sound good?"

Gazing affectionately back up at him, Harry nodded in agreement, already missing Neville's touch when he followed the instructions he'd been given and shyly walked over to sit down at the head of the table, completely unaware of the way that Neville's blood sang in response to him doing exactly as he'd been asked.

Twenty minutes later they sat side-by-side enjoying twin cups of Irish Breakfast laced with sugar and cream, accompanied by warm rowies that were fresh from the oven and slathered in butter and jam. Harry had finally managed to relax and now that he'd done so, he was animatedly recapping a row that he'd witnessed at the Leaky Cauldron only a few days prior. His eyes sparkled and danced as he wildly gestured about, setting the scene while also somehow managing to steal another piece of Neville's heart. 

It was rare for someone to find a career that so thoroughly fulfilled and suited them, especially so early in life, but from the moment that Harry had taken his Aurors' Vows, it had been obvious to anyone who knew him that he'd found his calling. Seeing such joy and passion plastered across his face made Neville feel temporarily wistful for his old job, but the feeling was fleeting and he knew deep within his heart that Harry had always been the best part of the job.

Law enforcement had never called to him in the same way that Herbology and teaching did, and every time he had the opportunity to watch wonder spark in the eyes of a student, he knew that he wouldn't trade his current position for all the riches in the world... aside from, perhaps, the treasure who sat across from him now. Although, with every longing glance he caught flashing in Harry's emerald eyes, he became steadily more convinced that there wasn't a single reason that he couldn't have both. Distracted by the newly budding hope of the possibility of a future with Harry, Neville flushed when he glanced up from his tea and found Harry with a relaxed smile playing at the corner of his lips and an expectant look upon his face. 

"I'm sorry, mate," he murmured with a flush and returned Harry's smile with a bashful one of his own. "Will you forgive me if I ask you to repeat that last bit? I must still be waking up and I'm embarrassed to admit that I missed it."

"Oh, of course," Harry replied and then paused, cheeks pinking deliciously when he finally continued. "I was just saying that you look great. Teaching really seems to suit you."

Unable to help himself, Neville grinned, almost preening beneath Harry's praise. 

"Thank you," he said, eyes softening as they drank Harry in. "You're looking quite well yourself."

The mutual compliments seemed to render them both speechless and it was a few moments before Harry finally pushed forward, attempting to dissipate the electricity that was crackling between them. 

"So, it appears that Luna and Rolf have offered the cabin to both of us, and forgotten that they did so." 

"That is indeed what appears to have happened," Neville replied. But he doubted very much the supposed absent-mindedness of the latter, especially when he caught Harry stealing yet another glance in his direction. 

Deciding to test the waters, he cleared his throat and amiably continued. "Whatever the circumstances of this surprise may be, I'm happy that it's afforded us the opportunity to catch up with each other."

Harry brightened and turned to face him fully, speaking softly as he said, "So am I."

Delighted by the promise of his response, Neville decided to push the boundaries a little further, hoping to find even more clarity when he cautiously said, "I do hope you weren't too disappointed when you arrived this morning and found me instead of the peace and quiet I'm sure you were expecting."

"Not at all!" The response from Harry was immediate and his eyes softened as he reached out and smoothed his slender fingers over Neville's bare forearm before continuing. "I wasn't disappointed at all. Quite the opposite, as a matter of fact."

Hope exploded in Neville's chest at Harry's words and heat raced through his veins at the unexpected touch, causing him to shift in his seat at the sudden tightening of his trousers.

"Nevertheless," he murmured, mindful not to play his hand too quickly in case there was still a chance that he was wrong, "You must have been looking forward to this stay for quite a while, as Rolf only extended the offer to me about twelve days ago. While I would be delighted to steal a little more of your time, I also understand if you came here looking for some privacy. I can pack my things up and head back to Hogwarts if you'd prefer."

The way that Harry's eyes widened at this information only acted to increase his suspicion of Luna's matchmaking motives. This wouldn't have been the first time that she'd tried to urge Neville in the direction of someone she'd thought he would fancy. However, it was the first time he found himself hoping her scheming would work. The shaking of Harry's head pulled Neville away from his musings.

"No!" Harry nearly shouted before clearing his throat and confirming Neville's suspicions as he continued, "Luna actually only asked me to cabin-sit a couple of weeks ago, during our Sunday tea." The quizzical expression that settled across his brow as he puzzled over the mixup was so endearing that Neville's stomach did a small flip at the sight of it. Harry seemed to mull the revelation over a few moments before tentatively speaking up again.

"So, as you can see, you've just as much right to be here as me." His eyes softened with affection as they came back up to meet Neville's. "Anyways, I'd much prefer to spend the holidays with you than all on my own. That is, if you would like to spend them with me."

"I would like that very much," Neville replied, rejoicing in the smile that immediately burst forth on Harry's lips. "There's just one small hitch in that plan."

"Really?" Harry asked with innocent concern, until a spark of recognition seemed to light up his eyes. His voice trembled as he continued, "What’s that?"

"Well," Neville said with as straight a face as he could manage, given the circumstances. "This cabin only has one bed: the one you found me in this morning. I know that it's large, but... we would have to share it."

Harry began to flush as Neville spoke, biting into his full lower lip and swallowing hard as the last few words hung heavily between them. 

"I don't mind if you don't," he finally managed. 

"Not at all," Neville breathed, trying to gain control over his emotions as joy and lust lit him up like a firework on Bonfire Night.

"Good," Harry replied, looking just as elated and surprised as Neville felt. In fact, Neville was convinced that he could feel the blood as it pounded through his veins and into his cock when Harry's nervous babbling continued. "Besides, we shared a room for six years. It can't be very much different from that." 

But not even he looked to be convinced by his own logic. 

And even as Neville heard the "Definitely" leave his lips, he knew it to be a lie. First of all, there had always been three other boys to share their room with in the past. Second, they'd slept in separate beds. And lastly, when they'd lived together in the past Harry had never looked at Neville the way that he'd been looking at him since they'd discovered each other earlier that morning: with a look of pure, unadulterated longing. 

A longing which Neville could relate to entirely, and which he was now determined to end.