Revision Strategies, by Damsel-Most-Horrid
Summary: The below fic was my submission for the first wave of the 'Woobies of Destiny' (Harry/Neville) FQF. Scenario #42: Neville tutors Harry in Herbology.
Disclaimer: All 'Harry Potter' related characters and concepts are the creation and property of JK Rowling (etc). No copyright infringement is intended. I write for fun, not profit.
Harry let his head rest on Neville's chest, his eyelids suddenly heavy. Tiny vibrations tickled his cheek as Neville read, reciting property after property of aconite? Or was it trefoil? In his sleepy daze, he couldn't be certain.
"'This herb is often used in subtle acting tonics, particularly those for the nerves and muscles. It also acts as a mild anti-toxin and thus can be used against some poisons. Furthermore, depending on time of harvesting, the properties of this herb can be adapted to suit the needs of—'"
Harry's attention drifted, no longer held by the words themselves, but by the way each one brushed the back of his neck in little wisps of breath. He felt his hair ruffle, unruly stands brushed this way and that as the quick, clumsy stream of Neville's words continued to wash over him.
"'—Should never be mixed with any of the alcohols, nor with acids. Boiling in water is not advisable for periods longer than—' You're not listening!"
"Huh?" Harry snapped his head up, blinking in the harsh mid-afternoon sunlight as his trance shattered. A breeze fluttered in through the open window, teasing the dormitory curtains and sending a rush of sweet-smelling air into the room. Neville stared up at Harry, incredulous.
"You're not, are you?" Neville swatted playfully at Harry's shoulder with One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.
With a disgruntled sigh, Harry lowered his head back to his podgy pillow as Neville busied himself with flicking through the well-thumbed pages to find his place again. "Too hot to study," he protested lazily, hooking a leg over his boyfriend's knees and shifting closer.
"But not too hot for you to climb half on top of me?"
Neville chuckled and tossed the book aside, sending it bouncing over the edge of the bed and to the floor in a flutter of pages. "Perhaps you need a new revision strategy."
"Perhaps I need a break."
"Don't be silly." Neville wriggled out from under the possession of Harry's limbs and sat up. "Your test is tomorrow - I want to make sure you pass."
Harry yawned. "You've already helped loads, though. Let's study after dinner."
"And until then—"
"Come here." Harry reached up and looped his arms around Neville's neck, coaxing him down until they were inches apart and face-to-face. "How the hell am I supposed to study when all I want to do is—"
He brushed his lips over Neville's, the tiniest tease of a kiss conveying his preference over study. Neville collapsed beside him on the bed with a sigh.
Harry pressed their lips together again, teenage hunger taking over. Burying his fingers in Neville's hair, he drove in with unbridled eagerness for a deeper kiss. Neville gasped, and Harry took advantage of those parted lips.
Kissing Neville was nothing like kissing girls, Harry realised; it was sharing kisses, not just participating in them, which was one million times better. A sense of realness dominated, an unuttered confirmation that each sensation was more than just a mockery of desire; and while Harry could say that he lost himself kissing Neville, every time he equally felt found.
Harry stroked Neville's tongue with his own. He could taste the sweets they had shared earlier - peppermint, lemon, and a hint of chocolate all mingling together. He smiled against Neville's mouth, the flavours reminded him just who he was kissing and how very much he liked it and—
Neville pulled his lips from Harry's, abruptly. "Harry, what are the distinctive features of Curly Bogweed?"
"Huh?" Harry blinked. Where had that lovely mouth gone and the hell did Curly Bogweed have to do with anything?
"That question might come up on your test and—" Neville dodged Harry's attempted assault on his lips, leaving him with a mouthful of hair. "Don't think you're getting any more kisses until you answer it."
"You're not serious."
"I am." Neville placed a teasing finger to Harry's lips. "Well?"
"Um." Harry took a deep breath. The test, he reminded himself. You have a test tomorrow. "Well, I think it has lots of tiny tendrils, and pink flowers—"
"How many petals do they have?" Neville brushed a lock of hair from Harry's forehead with his fingertips.
"Five. Oh, and they smell like raspberry," Harry added. "Will that do?"
"Yes." Neville's voice was a whisper against Harry's lips. "That was good."
A kiss that had been earned felt somehow twice as sweet, impossible though Harry would have imagined that to be. Neville's lips slid across his, soft and warm and exceedingly delicious. Harry felt thoroughly rewarded. Pleasant shivers flooded him as a bold, wet tongue pushed against his lips; he greeted it instantaneously, drawing it into the welcoming warmth of his mouth.
"Harry..." Neville pulled away from Harry's mouth a fraction, and began trailing kisses across his jaw and then, "What family is mugwort in, Harry?"
"Daisy," Harry breathed, titling his head back as Neville brushed his lips against his neck, liking this new game. "Mugwort is in the daisy family, as are cudweeds and sneezeworts."
"Fantastic!" Neville rolled onto his back with a laugh, pulling Harry on top of him. His hands began to wander down Harry's back in long, soothing stokes. "See, Herbology revision isn't that painful."
"I guess not," Harry grinned.
Harry rested his head on Neville's shoulder, soaking up the caresses and kisses. From out in the grounds, the laughs and shouts of students enjoying the sun tugged at the edge of his hearing. He didn't feel even a tiny bit jealous.
Neville returned his attention to Harry's mouth, worrying his bottom lip a little with his teeth and then delicately sweeping across it with the tip of his tongue. Harry moaned, feeling his cock stir. Without thinking, he rocked his hips against Neville's.
"Oh!" Neville sat up suddenly, nearly tumbling Harry over the side of the bed. His cheeks were painted with the pinkest of blushes.
"Oh, Neville! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to - I mean-" Harry spluttered, wanting to kick himself. "I know you're not ready to..."
He trailed off, embarrassed and ashamed. As much as he wanted to share himself with Neville in a way that went so much deeper than kisses, he had resolved to wait. No matter how ready he felt, if Neville was uncomfortable with the idea Harry doubted it could be the kind of special he had always dreamed his first time would be if they rushed.
"No, I—" Neville paused and glanced down to the spot on the floor where the discarded copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi lay open on its spine. When he looked back up, Harry was surprised to see a broad grin plastered across his face.
"It's alright, Harry." Neville reached out and grabbed Harry's hand, squeezing it tightly in his short, stubby fingers. Harry loved those fingers. "I may not be ready for, well—" He waved his free hand, vaguely, in a clumsy attempt to convey that which he could not articulate. "But that doesn't mean I can't - we can't – do, um, other stuff."
Harry took his turn to blush as Neville's eyes flickered to his groin, and something warm and pleasant squirmed around in his belly. "Really?"
"Yeah, I'd really like that." Neville smiled and entwined their fingers. "Very much. There's just one thing though..."
Neville suddenly let go of Harry's hand and scooped the textbook up off the floor, laying it on the bed between then. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips against Harry's ear.
"You're going to have to answer me some questions first."