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For 30 Days of Neville 2009: The Passing of Neville Longbottom
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July 25th, 2009 - 08:26 pm
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Day: 25
Title: The Passing of Neville Longbottom
Author: ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) suntzu_s
Rating:PG-13
Pairing(s): Neville/Harry
Summary: Harry wants to look after Neville’s health. Neville just wants to take a leak.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction set in the Harry Potter universe – all recognisable characters and settings are the property of J. K. Rowling and her associates. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is made from this work. Please observe your local laws with regards to the age-limit and content of this work
Warning(s): Fluffy suggestive silliness and toilet humour ;)
Word Count: 1300 odd
Author's Notes: Thanks to autumn_veela for the super beta duties and written for 30 Days of Neville 2009
Neville nervously eyed the carrier bag that nestled innocently on his bed. Merlin, he loved Harry, but he hated Harry’s impulsive nature at times. Now was one of those times.
A little over a week ago Neville had heard the most awful, gut-wrenching sound emanating from their bathroom. It was a sound long-since heard but not forgotten, it was a familiar sound from the darker days of the War, it was the sound of pain. It was the sound of Harry woefully lamenting his first grey hair.
And from that day Harry had become somewhat obsessed with his age and health and, most alarmingly, with Neville’s.
Now Neville wasn’t a vain man. He knew who and what he was, and at the age of nearly 30, he was comfortable in his own skin. More importantly, after nearly ten years together, Neville was secure in his relationship with Harry. But now Harry was questioning their health, and if Harry was questioning Neville’s health was Harry also questioning his appearance?
Neville scowled at the bag. Maybe he could lose a few pounds or tone up a little. Middle-aged spread could creep up on a bloke when he wasn’t looking and then -- BAM -- you’ve been traded in for the latest edition without a kiss goodbye, a backwards glance or a boot up the jacksey.
Neville stomped over to the bag and prodded it with a finger. Harry was just being ridiculous, Neville told himself. Every night, when they were spooned together and sleep was just around the corner, Harry would anchor himself against Neville by sliding his arm across Neville’s stomach. He would sigh contentedly when it rested in the slight groove of Neville’s pot-belly and snuggle in for all he was worth.
Surely these weren’t the actions of a man about to run off with nubile eighteen year old, fresh out of Hogwarts and complete with tight buttocks and abs?
Neville sighed and shook his head before gingerly opening the bag. He was clearly being paranoid and he’d just have ride out Harry’s latest obsession until the Quidditch season began.
“Nev, are you ready yet?” Harry whinged through the door.
Neville guiltily pulled out the clothing from the bag and yelled back. “Nearly.” He shucked off his clothes and stumbled into something called a ‘tracksuit’, though secretly Neville thought they were pyjamas. They even had the stripes on them to prove it.
Neville glanced into the mirror and frowned. He looked like a pregnant man. He breathed in deeply and puffed out his chest, which drew his line of sight to the writing upon his nipple. Neville scratched his head. “Um, Harry?” he asked. “This tracksuit thing -- does Adidas mind that I’m wearing it?” Maybe this Adidas was his replacement. He was probably Adonis’s younger, fitter brother.
Harry poke his head around the door. “What? Nah, I’m sure the maker doesn’t mind,” he corrected. “It’s good advertising. Now stick your trainers on then we can go!”
“Where are we going?” asked Neville, secretly hoping it wasn’t going to be anywhere public.
“To the Memorial Gardens.”
“Oh, lovely.” It was anything but lovely as far as Neville was concerned. He was dressed for bed. “What are we going to do there?”
“I thought we’d go for-”
“It’s not a run, is it?” interrupted Neville as dread filled his stomach.
Harry shook his head slowly. “Nah, I don’t think you’d- I think, um, I think it’s too hot. I thought a swift walk.”
Neville nodded then bent to retrieve his trainers. Great. Harry clearly thought that he was unfit and couldn’t manage a jog around the park and well, Neville chided himself gently, he wasn’t going to think down those lines or he’d feel ill. Or he’d mentally start dividing up their joint Wizarding film collection or offer to be best man at Harry’s next wedding.
Harry watched Neville tie his laces with untamed glee. “Ready?” he asked before dragging Neville from the bed.
Neville grumbled in Harry’s wake, mourning the days when Harry was dragging him to bed. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!” Merlin, it was like detention with Professor Snape again, only with somebody better looking and not as tall.
888
After ambling around the gardens for half an hour, Neville was hot, but not in a good way. Sweat poured from, well, every pore and he was sure there was chafing. But Neville didn’t think a swift swipe of his fingers down the front of his track-suit pants/pyjama bottoms in a public place was appropriate for a Hogwarts professor, or indeed any other professor, so he’d just have to surmise.
Harry, on the other hand, looked positively delicious. His cheeks glowed healthily in the summer sun, his track-suit pants seemed to hang gracefully upon his still-slim hips and the little fucker was bone dry.
Neville closed his eyes for a brief second, not knowing if it was to block out the afternoon sun or the perfection that was Harry.
“Nev? You alright?” broke in Harry.
Neville sighed then shrugged. “Yeah…I was, yeah,” he trailed off at a loss, not knowing what to say to Harry, who was looking so encouragingly at him. “I think…I think I need a pee!” he blurted, rather liking the idea now that his brain and bladder had caught up.
“Oh, oh alright. I think there’s a Gents just around the next bend….I could do a Point Me spell,” offered Harry.
Neville strode out for the gents, mildly affronted that Harry thought him incapable of finding the damned loo in one piece. Fair enough there’d been that one time, but it had been dark and Neville had had one too many firewhiskeys and-. Alright there were all those times at school, but he’d been eleven for Godric’s gallbladder!
Neville pushed open the door to the Gents, feeling decidedly smug that he’d arrived without any assistance or effort. He braced himself for the stale smell of public conveniences and sighed happily when he discovered the lack of ammonia and people. He ambled over to the urinals, intent upon a quick slash.
Neville whistled as he prepared to pee, cursing the fact that he hated peeing in strange places. Shortly after he’d hit the third verse, another patron joined him at the next urinal. Neville nodded briefly in acknowledgement then determinedly stared ahead at the ceramic tiles, grimly thinking about waterfalls and gushing taps.
“I’ve not seen you in here before.” The voice came from Neville’s left.
Neville glanced sideways and coughed. “I don’t usually come here,” he answered, somewhat perplexed. Merlin, this was why he could never pee in a public place for strange men asking him stupid questions and- Neville’s brain caught up with what he’d just witnessed.
Neville looked at his companion. Yup, he was leering and wanking.
Neville snapped his head skywards and breathed out deeply, hoping to cool his now-burning cheeks. Shit, where the hell was Harry when he needed him? He’d only nipped in here to avoid answering an awkward question and have a leak and he’d somehow or other wandered into a Cottaging hangout.
“Ohhh, I’m sure you could come anywhere you’d like, big boy,” purred Neville’s admirer.”
Neville wished the ground would open up and swallow him. “I….um-
”
“He comes with me!” growled Harry from the doorway.
Neville sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Gods above and smiled gratefully at Harry. “Umm, yes. What he said!”
Neville’s admirer sniffed. “Pity.” He cast one last lingering gaze over Neville before tucking himself away and sauntering out of the Gents.
Neville lent his head against the cold, ceramic tiles and sagged in relief.
Harry burst out laughing.
Neville spun around and glared at him. “What’s so funny?”
“This!!”
Neville was indignant. “Well, thanks very much, I must say!”
“I’m not laughing at you. I mean the bloke had damned fine taste, it’s just this!” Harry gestured with a wave of his hands.
Neville folded his arms and turned back towards the urinals. “If you say so!”
“Oh, I do, I do,” nodded Harry before smiling slowly. “You know, I could do with a quick slash whilst I’m here.”
Harry walked over towards Neville and stood beside him.
Neville looked at Harry.
Harry looked at Neville. “Do you come here often?” he asked impishly.
Neville bit back a grin, recognising the gleam in Harry’s eyes. “I could do.”
Harry leered at Neville. “I’m sure you could.”
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