j_lunatic (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} j_lunatic) wrote,@ 2008-03-21 00:08:00 |
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"His Darkest Secret" (Neville/Draco, R)
How bored was I at my most recent assignment? So bored that I wrote Neville/Draco. (I also finished a longer Neville-centric genfic, but I probably won't be able to type it up before the weekend.
Title: His Darkest Secret
Rating: R
Pairing: Neville/Draco
Summary: Neville discovers Draco's secret. And doesn't reject him for it.
Word Count: 683
Disclaimer: I am neither J.K. Rowling (creator of the Potterverse) nor any of the corporations to which she has licenced her creation.
There had been snogging in the stacks and groping in Greenhouse 6. This afternoon, Neville vowed to himself, there would be oral sex in the Room of Requirement.
(He had briefly considered the Owlery, for the sake of the alliteration. But did anyone ever clean the place? It sure didn't look like it.)
Neville contemplated his wardrobe. He wanted to look good, if possible; yet not so good that his roommates would realize something was going on and ask questions. (The dark red buttondown? He'll snark about me being such a Gryffindor. Well, if it's not that he'll snark about something else.)
As Neville entered the Room of Requirement, out of the corner of his eye he saw a slight, fair figure zoom out of an alcove and follow him. Right on time.
Once the door was closed Neville pulled Draco into his arms and kissed him deeply, breaking the liplock only when Draco turned away, towards the large bed that the room had provided. Once on the bed the two resumed their kisses and gropes. Eventually Neville found the intestinal fortitude to start unbuttoning Draco's shirt; the rest of their clothes soon followed.
Don't chicken out, Neville told himself. He pulled back from Draco, opened his eyes, and trailed his gaze down the other young man's bare body, stopping at the penis--like Draco, long, slim, pointy, fair-skinned, rising out of a patch of white-blond hair with inch-long dark roots. Dark?
Neville's astonishment must have shown on his face. Draco gasped with realization and put his hands over his crotch. He made as if to roll off the bed, but Neville grabbed his arm. "It's okay, please don't go--"
Draco moaned. "I've done the hair charm for years; how did I forget to do it below the belt?"
"You've done this for years?"
"And my mum did it for me before them." Neville didn't say anything, but Draco continued. "She's charmed her hair for years, first to dissociate herself from--her sisters...." Both young men knew Draco was avoiding saying "Bellatrix," a touchy subject for both of them. "And then because it made my parents such a striking pair. Then when I was born and turned out to have the Black family coloring, she started charming my hair, so people wouldn’t get suspicious about hers."
Neville kissed Draco, wanting to convince him not to run away. "The charm isn't permanent?"
"It's permanent, but in about a month new hair grows in as the original color. Mum taught me to do the charm at least every two weeks, before it grows out too much. When she bought me my wand, we went straight home and she taught me the charm."
Neville was briefly envious at the image of a mother--even a Death Eater sympathizer--coaching her little boy. "And nobody else at Hogwarts has seen this?" Neville brushed his hand over Draco's crotch, as tenderly as if it were a newly sprouted Mandrake. "In the dorms?"
Draco snorted. "Should I take that as a sign of what goes on in the Gryffindor dorms? Although the idea of the Weasel or Potty strutting about starkers could be useful when I've got an inconvenient stiffy."
"O-or the showers after Quidditch?"
Draco laughed. "Why do people who don't play Quidditch fantasize about orgies in the changing rooms after the match? Everyone goes into their assigned shower cubicle and doesn't come out until they're clean and properly dressed. Well, Marcus Flint after a win liked to march about the place bare-arsed and sing "A Wizard's Staff Has a Knob on the End," but everyone else thinks he's a complete tool."
Neville rolled the chuckling Draco onto his back and crouched between his parted legs. "What if I were to ask you to keep it like this?" He twined a finger into the thatch of dark-and-fair hair and tugged, just a little. "There's something about the contrast--and that you've kept it a secret so long...." Before his access of courage could dissipate, Neville leaned forward and took the head of Draco's cock into his mouth.
How bored was I at my most recent assignment? So bored that I wrote Neville/Draco. (I also finished a longer Neville-centric genfic, but I probably won't be able to type it up before the weekend.
Title: His Darkest Secret
Rating: R
Pairing: Neville/Draco
Summary: Neville discovers Draco's secret. And doesn't reject him for it.
Word Count: 683
Disclaimer: I am neither J.K. Rowling (creator of the Potterverse) nor any of the corporations to which she has licenced her creation.
There had been snogging in the stacks and groping in Greenhouse 6. This afternoon, Neville vowed to himself, there would be oral sex in the Room of Requirement.
(He had briefly considered the Owlery, for the sake of the alliteration. But did anyone ever clean the place? It sure didn't look like it.)
Neville contemplated his wardrobe. He wanted to look good, if possible; yet not so good that his roommates would realize something was going on and ask questions. (The dark red buttondown? He'll snark about me being such a Gryffindor. Well, if it's not that he'll snark about something else.)
As Neville entered the Room of Requirement, out of the corner of his eye he saw a slight, fair figure zoom out of an alcove and follow him. Right on time.
Once the door was closed Neville pulled Draco into his arms and kissed him deeply, breaking the liplock only when Draco turned away, towards the large bed that the room had provided. Once on the bed the two resumed their kisses and gropes. Eventually Neville found the intestinal fortitude to start unbuttoning Draco's shirt; the rest of their clothes soon followed.
Don't chicken out, Neville told himself. He pulled back from Draco, opened his eyes, and trailed his gaze down the other young man's bare body, stopping at the penis--like Draco, long, slim, pointy, fair-skinned, rising out of a patch of white-blond hair with inch-long dark roots. Dark?
Neville's astonishment must have shown on his face. Draco gasped with realization and put his hands over his crotch. He made as if to roll off the bed, but Neville grabbed his arm. "It's okay, please don't go--"
Draco moaned. "I've done the hair charm for years; how did I forget to do it below the belt?"
"You've done this for years?"
"And my mum did it for me before them." Neville didn't say anything, but Draco continued. "She's charmed her hair for years, first to dissociate herself from--her sisters...." Both young men knew Draco was avoiding saying "Bellatrix," a touchy subject for both of them. "And then because it made my parents such a striking pair. Then when I was born and turned out to have the Black family coloring, she started charming my hair, so people wouldn’t get suspicious about hers."
Neville kissed Draco, wanting to convince him not to run away. "The charm isn't permanent?"
"It's permanent, but in about a month new hair grows in as the original color. Mum taught me to do the charm at least every two weeks, before it grows out too much. When she bought me my wand, we went straight home and she taught me the charm."
Neville was briefly envious at the image of a mother--even a Death Eater sympathizer--coaching her little boy. "And nobody else at Hogwarts has seen this?" Neville brushed his hand over Draco's crotch, as tenderly as if it were a newly sprouted Mandrake. "In the dorms?"
Draco snorted. "Should I take that as a sign of what goes on in the Gryffindor dorms? Although the idea of the Weasel or Potty strutting about starkers could be useful when I've got an inconvenient stiffy."
"O-or the showers after Quidditch?"
Draco laughed. "Why do people who don't play Quidditch fantasize about orgies in the changing rooms after the match? Everyone goes into their assigned shower cubicle and doesn't come out until they're clean and properly dressed. Well, Marcus Flint after a win liked to march about the place bare-arsed and sing "A Wizard's Staff Has a Knob on the End," but everyone else thinks he's a complete tool."
Neville rolled the chuckling Draco onto his back and crouched between his parted legs. "What if I were to ask you to keep it like this?" He twined a finger into the thatch of dark-and-fair hair and tugged, just a little. "There's something about the contrast--and that you've kept it a secret so long...." Before his access of courage could dissipate, Neville leaned forward and took the head of Draco's cock into his mouth.
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