Painted Stars

After the initial awkwardness of their morning conversation had passed, the rest of Harry and Neville's day had been quite enjoyable. They'd spent a good deal of time catching each other up on the goings-on of their everyday lives and afterwards had whiled away the afternoon playing multiple rounds of wizard chess. Harry had even managed to win four out of the six games that they played, much to his delight and surprise—although he did suspect this was due to Neville allowing him to do so, as opposed to being out of practice as Nev had claimed. 

Afterwards, the two made their way back into the kitchen, where it was Harry's turn to show off his cooking prowess. Rummaging through the well-stocked refrigerator and pantry, he'd found all the necessary ingredients to make steak and ale pies, which he was tickled to find were still a favourite of Neville's. He had also found himself unable to keep the grin from spreading across his cheeks as he watched Nev go back for not just a second pie, but a third as well. 

It wasn't until after they had finished their meal, washed the dishes, and retreated back into the lounge, that Harry's nerves had set in once more. Sitting at opposite ends of the settee, sipping cocoa as they listened to Christmas carols on the radio, it felt as if Harry could physically feel every inch of space that separated their bodies—of which there were very few. Because of this, it had come as nearly a relief when Neville had stood up and announced that he, unfortunately, had some papers that needed grading. He had then taken his mug back into the kitchen and, upon returning, lingered at the foot of the stairs for a few moments, almost as if he'd had something to say, before quietly heading up them instead. 

However, Harry's frayed nerves had never seemed to relax, and instead, he found himself missing Neville's company. The electric silence that they had been amiably sharing, which had caused him to be so antsy in the first place, had turned quite hollow and cold now that he found himself alone. 

Perhaps, he thought, it wasn't awkwardness that settled between us at all but instead was a mutual longing. He initially shook such hopeful thoughts from his head, but as he sat beside the crackling flames running through the events of the day in his mind, what at first seemed like wishful thinking began to slowly take root as a real possibility. Between what had felt to him like flirty glances and lingering touches, he couldn't help but ask, Is it possible that Neville is just as interested in me, as I am in him? 

Reclining in front of the fireplace with his hands wrapped around the cup of chocolate that had long since gone from hot to cold, Harry seemed unable to stop himself as he nervously glanced over his shoulder to the bedroom loft above. 

I suppose there is only one way to find out, he resolved. Swallowing down the rest of his drink, he then returned his mug to the kitchen, extinguished the fire with a flick of his wand, straightened his back and, acting with far more bravado than he actually felt, made his way up to bed himself. 

Upon reaching the top of the landing, his breath caught in his throat at the handsome sight of Neville sitting upright in bed. Bathed in the warm glow of both bedside lamps, he painted a lovely picture as his golden curls shimmered and shone and his gorgeous tattoos peeked out at Harry from beneath blue silk pyjamas which draped deliciously over the muscles that lay beneath them. Brushing the feathered tip of his quill back and forth across his full lower lip, he was leaning against the head of the bed, propped up by a number of pillows, with an array of parchment surrounding him as he read from a stack of it in his hand. Glancing briefly up, he gave Harry an affectionate smile before returning his attention back towards his current task. 

Flushing, Harry shook his head and attempted to free himself of the sudden urge he had to shove those papers aside, crawl into Neville's lap, and replace the feather of the quill with his own lips. When he found himself unable to clear the tempting image from his mind and it was obvious that some form of distraction would be needed to do so, Harry instead glanced around the room for where he'd placed his duffle. 

A soft warmth spread through his chest when, instead of locating it beside the bannister where he'd placed it earlier in the day, he found it resting next to a dresser that stood beside an open closet. Stepping in for a closer glance, it was immediately evident that a number of his shirts, sweaters, and jackets had been hung neatly beside each other in the wardrobe. And upon further inspection, he found the rest of his clothing folded neatly and tucked away in the chest of drawers.

"You've done this?" he asked tremulously, turning around to face Neville with a look of wonderment on his face. 

At the question, Nev glanced cautiously up from the piece of parchment that he looked to be grading, and Harry was met with a pair of stunning blue eyes. For the first time in what seemed to Harry like years, a deep flush burst across Neville's cheeks, and he nodded before clearing his throat. 

"I hope you don't mind," he said, sounding slightly unsure. "You just seemed a little tense downstairs and I wanted to help ease your stress. I'm sorry if I've overstepped my bounds."

Adoration exploded in Harry's chest and he found himself having to fight back tears. It seemed silly to get so worked up over such a simple gesture, but no matter how much time went by, it still blindsided him whenever someone took the time and actually made an effort to nurture him. It was a level of care that had been entirely foreign to him in his life prior to being reintroduced to the wizarding world. Such actions were often doubly perplexing to him when they were performed by someone he felt so strongly for himself. So it was only natural that he found himself having to swallow down the growing lump in his throat to clear it and shaking his head as he struggled to find his voice.

"I don't mind," he quietly managed to reply. Glancing down towards his feet, Harry had to once again regain his composure before he was able to continue, "You haven't overstepped at all. That was very kind of you. Thank you."

"You're welcome," came Neville's gentle response, and there was a sweetness in his voice that drew Harry's gaze back up as he said, "It was my pleasure."

As the two quietly watched one another, it felt to Harry as if their relationship was shifting on its axis and he found himself both excited and terrified at where it may settle in the end. Neville was one of his oldest and dearest friends, but Harry could no longer ignore the fact that he wanted the closeness which they had shared for so many years to develop into something deeper. A soft clearing of Neville's throat distracted Harry from the jumbled mess of his thoughts, and he flushed crimson upon the realisation that he had been so blatantly staring at Nev's glorious mouth.

"I'm sorry?" he asked, belatedly noticing that Neville had been speaking as he'd been devouring the sight of him. 

A rich chuckle rose from Nev's chest and he gave Harry a sizzling grin before amiably repeating, "I've put your toiletries beside mine in the bathroom."

"Oh, " Harry murmured shyly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Neville pleasantly replied. 

With that, Harry turned towards the dresser, pulled out a clean singlet and grey joggers, and retreated to the bathroom as quickly as his legs could take him. Closing the door firmly behind him, he quickly disrobed and, upon doing so, discovered that his raging erection from earlier in the day had reappeared with a vengeance. Well, he thought anxiously, I certainly can't walk back in there looking like this. Reaching into the shower, he adjusted the temperature until it was just barely shy of scalding and hopped inside. 

Standing beneath the stream, he closed his eyes, palmed his cock, and finally allowing his imagination to run wild, slowly began to stroke it. As images of Neville in all his glorious nude perfection ran rampant through his mind, Harry bit into his lower lip in an attempt to quiet his moans, and he quickly found himself barreling towards climax. Picking up the pace with which he was stroking himself, Harry imagined that Nev was standing behind him, holding him steady by one hip as he lined up that gorgeous pierced knob to his entrance. Reaching back with his free hand, he slid his fingers down his cleft until they found his eager hole. Imagining Neville's piercing stroking back and forth across the ring of muscles there instead of his digits, he sucked in a shaky gasp and finally sank two inside. 

The pleasure was immediate and intense, causing him to whimper, and Harry tightened his grip around his cock as he began to stroke himself harder and faster, matching pace with the slick and steady pumping of his fingers. Less than two dozen strokes later and, with stars bursting across his vision, Harry came undone. As wave after wave of white-hot pleasure rolled through his body, he found himself leaning against the wall, struggling to stay standing as his knees threatened to buckle under the force of his satisfaction. Swaying beneath the warmth of the shower, Harry did his best to regain a sense of composure as his equilibrium slowly returned to normal.

Unable to remember the last time he'd had such an incredible orgasm, especially on his own, he basked in the happy afterglow of it, an afterglow which continued to stick with him long after he'd rinsed himself clean. Taking special care to wash his face and brush his teeth, he cheerfully got dressed in his pyjamas and was perfectly relaxed as he emerged from the bathroom. Humming softly to himself, he cast a quick drying spell on his hair and pulled his unruly black locks into a loose bun as he re-emerged into the bedroom beyond. 

But the sight which met him as he reached the foot of the bed caused Harry to still in his tracks and he found himself rooted to the spot, staring in wide-eyed wonder. Having already cleared the parchment off his side of the bed, Neville was standing beside his nightstand, stripped bare of his silk top and smoothing lotion into the inked portions of his skin. Watching each movement with greedy desire, Harry could feel the heat as it rose to his cheeks when Neville glanced up and gave him a playful smile. 

"You don't mind my losing the shirt, do you?" Nev asked as he swept a hand down, indicating his bare torso. "As you've already discovered, I usually sleep in the buff, due to my tendency towards overheating." 

"Not at all," Harry croaked. And while he did try to keep his eyes locked on Neville's, he once again found them wandering over the gorgeous vista created by hours of dedication and pain. 

"Thanks, mate," Neville murmured. The latter sounded more like he was speaking to a lover than a friend, which drew Harry's eyes back up to meet his where he found them filled with what looked to be longing. Pinning Harry with a hot stare, he continued, "I'd understand if you want to lose yours too."

Then, breaking some of the tension that was building between them, Neville moved his gaze to the bed and he pulled the linens aside. Crawling inside, he extinguished the light beside him, laid back and shut his eyes. 

For his part, Harry continued to stand awkwardly, chewing at his lip as he considered his options. Although Neville had no way of knowing it, the condition in which he normally slept was another thing they had in common. Harry hadn't slept in pyjamas since he'd left Hogwarts, preferring the coolness that nudity afforded him, as well as the feeling of crisp sheets against his bare skin. In fact, he'd really only brought the clothing he was wearing now to lounge around the cabin in. And while the idea of losing his shirt—and the overheating it was sure to cause—was a tempting prospect, it would also reveal Harry's own tattoos and potentially open him up to a litany of questions that he wasn't entirely sure he was ready to answer—especially the one that hugged the underside of his right pec. 

In the end, comfort—and, yes, a smidgen of desire—won out, and Harry quickly shrugged out of the singlet he'd donned only a few minutes before. Folding it and placing it atop a corner of the dresser, Harry then briefly ran his fingers across the flowing vine he was so nervous about having to explain. Quickly turning off his own lamp, he hopped into the bed beside Neville and settled into the sheets, taking special care to pull the bedding over his newly exposed skin. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Harry caught Nev's outline turning to face him, and a giddy joy filled him when the warm chords of Neville's voice wrapped themselves about him like an embrace. 

"Sweet dreams, Harry."

"Sweet dreams," came his quiet reply. And indeed, they were. 

___

The sky was just beginning to turn the deep cornflower blue of pre-dawn when Neville stirred to consciousness, pulled from his dreams by a warm breeze that was licking at his chest. Yet even in his sleep-addled state, it was only a matter of seconds before he realised the source of this breeze was Harry's breathing. At some point in the night, it seemed, Harry had crossed the divide of the huge king mattress that they shared and found his way to Neville. 

He was now sleeping curled up against Nev's side, with one leg straddling his left thigh, a hand splayed lightly atop his stomach, and his head resting gently upon Nev's shoulder—much to the overwhelming delight of the tall blond. Laying as still as he possibly could so as to not wake his bedmate and break the spell that sleep had cast upon them, Neville slowly tilted his chin and glanced down, admiring how gorgeous Harry was as he slept. He looked so much younger in sleep, similar to the boy Nev had known before Voldemort had crashed back into their lives and then stolen so many of the people whom they both held dear. Harry had already been plagued by so much pain and responsibility in his young life, and Neville was suddenly transported back to the stands following the final task of the Triwizard Tournament. He was desperate to gather Harry up in his arms, wanting to hold him tight and protect this incredible man from the rest of the world and the monsters that stalked it. But most importantly, he wanted to soothe Harry, to help lift the pain away from him, which even in happy moments, he often seemed to wear draped around him like a cloak. 

So without thinking, Nev found himself leaning in, as he'd longed to do for so many years, and pressing a gentle kiss to the jagged scar which rested above Harry's brow. Letting the caress linger for only a moment or two before, mindful not to make any sudden movements, he lowered himself back down onto the pillows. He laid that way for several minutes, staring at the wooden beams overhead, with one arm curled protectively around Harry's back, and allowed himself the small luxury of simply enjoying his longtime wish come to life.

Even as Harry began to stir, he found himself unable to loosen his hold upon him, and instead settled for closing his eyes and lying as still as possible. Pretending to sleep, he cautiously waited, wondering how Harry would react to the position which they currently found themselves in. 

Neville could feel the moment that he came to consciousness and swallowed down the bitter taste of disappointment as Harry slowly lifted himself up on one elbow and softly pulled his hand away from where it rested atop his stomach, steeling himself for the withdrawal of Harry's warm embrace. However, hope quickly replaced disappointment when that withdrawal never came and, instead, he felt Harry's fingers tentatively sweep across his brow then slowly trail down his temple and jaw. His body hummed at the contact. Although nothing could have prepared him for what came next, as Harry's thumb tenderly brushed over his chin and skated across his lips. 

"Absolutely perfect," he whispered softly. The words immediately imprinting themselves into Neville's memory. "I wish you knew how desperately I want to kiss you."

Every nerve ending in Neville's body lit up with yearning at the hushed admission, and he lay completely still, too stunned to move. 

Then Harry was cautiously lowering himself back onto the mattress and retreating to his own side of the bed. A few moments later, Harry's breathing had slowed once again to the familiar rhythm of sleep, and the opportunity for Neville to pull him back into his embrace had passed. However, Harry's actions and admission had given Nev all the confirmation that he needed, and as he drifted closer towards slumber himself, he vowed that come morning, Harry's wish would become their reality.

___

The soft white light of early morning pulled Harry from his dreams, and he lazily stretched as he came to consciousness. Blearily blinking his eyes open, he gave a little start upon realising that he'd once again gravitated over towards Neville's side of the bed. However this time, unlike the last, there were still a few inches that separated them, and he took a couple of moments to admire how handsome Nev was as he slept. Tall and lean, he lay on his back, sprawled across his side of the bed in such a way that his arm was extended across the mattress. It seemed as if it was meant to beckon Harry over so that he might once again curl against Nev's side, and Harry flushed at the memory of waking up doing just that. He felt slightly guilty for having done so, but as he hadn't intended to, he was quickly able to push said guilt away. Instead he smiled as he remembered the steady beating of Neville's heart beneath his ear and the softness of Neville's skin as it pressed against his. Allowing himself one final longing glance, he slid carefully from the bed and retreated to the bathroom. 

A few minutes later, he had relieved himself, washed his hands and face, and had just begun brushing his teeth when a sexily mussed Neville filled the doorway and leaned against its jam with a smile that caused Harry's stomach to do a small somersault. 

"Mind if I join you?" he asked in a voice still gravely with sleep. 

Mouth full of toothpaste, Harry was unable to reply and instead settled for shaking his head and pointing to Nev's toothbrush in a welcoming gesture.

Pushing off the door jam, Neville entered the bathroom and sidled up behind him. His heart skipped a beat when, pressing close to his back, Nev reached around Harry's side to grab his toothbrush and paste. 

"Thanks," he murmured softly against Harry's ear, causing goosebumps to burst across his skin in response. 

Closing the gap between their bodies further still, he briefly turned on the faucet and ran the bristles of his brush beneath it, before covering them with toothpaste. But even as he began to brush his teeth, Neville never withdrew. Instead, the warmth of his body radiated into Harry's and that, combined with the look in his eyes as their gazes connected in the mirror, caused a flush to blossom upon Harry's cheeks and his pulse to quicken. 

There was something deeply intimate about standing so close to one another as they performed their morning routine, and Harry found himself unable to look away. At some point, while their eyes had been devouring one another, Neville's electric brush had shut off. Yet, it still came as a surprise, and Harry had to stifle a moan when Nev splayed one large hand across the small of his back and leaned around him to spit the foam out of his mouth and into the sink. Rinsing his brush clean, he then placed it back in the cup where it had been resting and moved back to lean against the wall as Harry followed suit. 

"Sleep well?" Neville asked, as Harry turned around to face him. 

There was a flirtatious quality to his voice as he posed the question and it caused a siren to ring out from Harry's subconscious. Whether from desire or alarm, he didn't fully know—perhaps it was both. 

"Very."

Harry heard the breathy reply leave his lips before he'd even thought to speak it aloud, and his heartbeat hammered in his ears as Neville once again pushed off of the wall and came to stand directly before him. Towering above him as they stood toe-to-toe, Nev reached out with one hand and tilted Harry's chin up so that their eyes met before dropping his gaze to fall upon his lips. 

"You've missed a bit of toothpaste. Just here," he murmured, the deep nature of his voice immediately causing Harry's toes to curl. With his other hand, Neville reached up and brushed his thumb across the corner of Harry's mouth before bringing it up to his own and slowly sucking it clean. 

Desire raged through Harry's veins at the erotic sight, and he suddenly found it hard to breathe, having to suck in harsh gasps of air in order to fill his straining lungs. But it would seem that his delicious torture was not yet over, as Neville dipped his head, positioning his lips until they were poised barely a centimeter above his own. Whispering in a husky voice, he repeated Harry's own words from earlier in the morning back to him. "I wish you knew how desperately I want to kiss you."

Harry's pupils dilated and his eyes widened in surprise as he brought them up to meet Neville's.

"You do?" he murmured, voice trembling. 

"Very much so," came Nev's heady reply. Nodding for emphasis, he lowered his head further still, until their noses grazed together and his lips skated across Harry's in the promise of a caress. Finally, he asked, "May I?"