Into The Long Dark

DISCLAIMER: Not mine, never will be. All HP characters belong to JK and Warner Brothers, etc, etc, etc. Rael belongs to me.

WARNING: The events in this fic take place immediately after Book 6.

Thanks to Evil Auntie Snape for being my Beta!


Sunday, 10 August 1997


~~~~~~ELEVEN ~~~~~~~~\"ON THE SUBJECT OF DREAMS\"~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


....It was dark. The blackest of nights. Draco was lost. He was running down an endless alleyway, filled with rubbish and stagnant, filthy puddles of water. Acrid smoke billowed from above, making it hard to see. He knew Severus was just up ahead, just a little bit further. All he had to do was keep going. But his legs were heavy. The faster he tried to run, the slower he seemed to move. Draco knew where he was going. But then he didn\'t. He should have been there by now. Or should he? It was getting harder to breathe. The footsteps were getting louder behind him, growing closer. He pumped his legs furiously, but he couldn\'t go any faster. The footsteps behind him, growing louder, closer, faster. He turned to see what was pursuing him, and he fell, tumbling to the ground in a tangled heap. The footsteps were upon him. Looking up, Draco saw the Dark Mark, hovering above his head, lurid green, pulsing, leering, enormous. The footsteps stopped. Draco whirled to look behind him at his pursuer. Big boots, jeans, the hair, the green eyes, the scar! The wand pointed straight at him. \"Avada Kedavra!\" And the green light shot at him, blinding him as......

.....Draco sat up in bed, gasping for air. His naked torso was covered in sweat, the thin sheet pooled around his waist. He couldn\'t figure out where he was. Running his hand through his hair, he became aware of the naked shape next to him. He recognized that jet black hair, the pale skin. The smooth, supple curve of Snape\'s arse covered only by the silk sheet. He stared at the quiet form in the bed with him.

How the hell did I get here? What about the meeting? Wasn\'t there a meeting?

Rubbing his sore wrists, Draco took in the small bedchamber. The old wardrobe next to the door. The window over the bed. Spinner\'s End. Now he knew where he was. That made sense. But how had he gotten there? His mind was spinning. He couldn\'t think properly. What was the last thing he remembered? Walking down the alley towards The Dragon\'s Lair. Right? And then what had happened? His thoughts flowed and merged into one another, morphing from one unrelated image to the next. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he tried to stand, but everything swam out of focus. Draco fell back onto the bed heavily. Snape grumbled slightly, but resumed his quiet breathing.

That dream again. Draco had had variations of that dream all summer, ever since the night on the Astronomy Tower. They had gotten progressively more intense as the summer went on, and they all contained the same basic images. The Dark Mark, or the Green Skull, or Potter, or all three or any combination of them. Even now, the last dream was fading, but Draco still shuddered at the image of Potter throwing the Killing Curse. That had never happened before.

Feeling less dizzy, Draco laid back down in the bed, pulling the thin satin sheet up to his waist. He could hear the sound of dripping water off of the eaves outside. He could feel the even rhythm of Snape breathing next to him. He tried once more to sort through the maelstrom of memories in his mind. Failing that, Draco closed his eyes, willing his uncooperative mind to see more pleasant things. The Manor garden in springtime. Blaise smiling. Chasing the snitch on his broom. Potter walking down the hallway. Potter on his broom. Potter in Potions. That raven-black hair. Those eyes. That smile.

Reaching down, Draco began to fondle his rapidly stiffening cock. Pushing the sheet down, he throttled his prick, faster and harder. He focused on those wonderful images in his mind, both real and fantastic, stroking his shaft firmly. His other hand wandered up to one of his nipples, grasping and squeezing and twisting it mercilessly. Moaning softly, Draco slowed the onslaught on his cock ever so slightly, squeezing his aching member tightly between his thumb and forefinger. He stroked it fully, from its base all the way up to the quickly moistening tip, gasping each time his fingers ran across the hyper-sensitive head. His breath hitching in his chest, he assaulted his already sore nipple all the more, steadily increasing the stroking of his throbbing dick. Quickly reaching release, Draco\'s back arched, his discharge shooting over his stomach and heaving chest. Breathing deeply, Draco slowly moved a hand over his slick, cum-stained skin. Finally catching his breath, he cast a cleaning charm. With a contented sigh, he turned towards Snape, throwing his arm across the sleeping form. A moment later, Draco joined him.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Neville gulped down the glass of warm milk, nearly choking on it in his haste to finish. His house elf patiently waited as Neville handed the empty glass back to him.

\"Will that be all, sir?\" the elf rasped tiredly.

\"Yeah, thanks, Gwin. That\'ll be all. Good night.\" The elf bowed slightly, and stalked out of the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him.

Neville swung his legs back up onto the mattress, and pulled the sheets up to his chest. He shifted about a bit, and reached up to put out the bedside lamp. After a few moments, he turned the lamp back on, flung the sheets off once more, and sat up on the side of the bed. Rubbing the back of his neck, he let out an exasperated sigh, and pulled off his t-shirt, flinging it at a chair across the room. It missed, of course, landing on the floor, mocking him.

\"Cheers!\" he spat, staring at the offending shirt. Sighing again, he lay back down and put out the light, leaving the sheets off completely. It was bloody stuffy in his room, which was making it even harder to fall asleep. Dealing with all the paperwork that Tudbuckle had made him wade through earlier that evening was bad enough. Having to listen to another lecture from McGonagall afterward was the cherry on the cake of his day. Sure, he had forgotten all about the solicitor\'s visit, but why in blazes did the appointment have to be on a Saturday night? What was the rush?

Shite!

And of course, there was his ever present nagging problem. Solicitors and Headmistresses aside, The Harry Problem was more than enough to keep Neville tossing and turning all night. He had been wrestling with that issue since the Tri-Wizard Tournament, when Neville finally realized that his feelings for Harry went deeper and far beyond that of just friends. Or roommates. Or fellow Gryffindors. After that point, Harry was all Neville could think about. All he wanted to think about.

Closing his eyes, he could see all the things that he loved about his friend. Harry smiling over a joke at breakfast in the Great Hall. Harry laughing with Weasley and Finnigan in their room in the Tower. The way his brow furrowed in concentration during Potions. The look of sheer exultation when he was zooming about the Quidditch pitch on his broom. The quiet, almost angelic expression on his face as he slept, when he would leave the bed curtains open. Neville winced as he remembered how Weasley had caught him staring at a sleeping Harry one morning when he thought no one else was awake. Ron had given him a rather knowing look, but said nothing.

Tossing onto his side, Neville tried to block out those images, but he was soon feeling the usual stirrings in his groin. Great, that\'s all I need right now is a hard-on! But still the images kept coming. Harry outwitting the dragon in the Tournament. Harry lying unconscious in the Infirmary. Riding the thestrals to the Ministry. Riding the old motorcycle. Harry being held back by Remus after Sirius.....Bullocks!

Jumping out of bed, Neville stalked over to the window, and pushed the heavy curtains aside. Heaving the heavy sash up, he gasped as the cool night breeze washed over his sweaty chest. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath of the moist air, Neville felt calmer already. Reaching down, he felt his tented pajama bottoms, lightly grazing his fingers across his hardening prick. The rain had just stopped, and the scent of the air was at once everything fresh and damp and clean, with a hint of mustiness. Still taking deep breaths, he lazily stroked his erection, willing his mind to relax, pushing all the unwanted thoughts aside. All that mattered was Harry. His Harry.

Reaching down inside his pajamas and grasping himself firmly, he sighed contentedly as the fresh breeze billowed the curtains about him. Neville sucked the night air in faster and faster, groaning ever so slightly as he moved his hand with increased deliberation. His mind\'s eye saw Harry as he had been that evening. His beautiful, raven black hair, now long and wild, the sexy unshaven stubble across his chin and jaw. The achingly tight jeans that accentuated his wonderful bulge, his smile, his eyes, everything that was his Harry. Neville stroked his now rock-hard cock furiously as he recalled the brief touches and hugs. Then he imagined The Kiss, the kiss that hadn\'t happened yet, and that sent him into orgasm, spilling his release with a loud gasp and a yelp of pleasure.

Out of breath and covered with a film of sweat, he sat on the window sill, allowing the night breeze to cool him off. Withdrawing his spunk-slicked hand, Neville murmured a cleaning charm. The moon poked through a break in the clouds, and he noted how it would soon be approaching fullness. He thought of Lupin and the hell he would go through in several days time. He\'d be there for Lupin, and Harry, too. Without the Wolfsbane Potion, Harry and the werewolf needed all the help they could get during the full moon.

Running a hand through his damp hair, he stood up, and stared out at the distant lightning flickering above the swiftly moving clouds. Taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it, Neville nodded and allowed a small, satisfied smile to creep onto his face.

Walking back over to his bed, he climbed back into it, pulling the sheet up to his waist. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he would finally tell Harry how he felt. He would show him how he felt. Whatever happened, whether he was accepted or rejected, at least he would let Harry know that he loved him. That he loved him more than anything. That he would do anything for him. Tomorrow, he would tell Harry. Closing his eyes, Neville finally relaxed and was soon dreaming of tomorrow.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Harry tossed and turned in the huge old four-poster. He should have fallen right to sleep, considering the day he\'d had. His body was crying for rest, but Harry\'s mind was ablaze, and refused to allow it. What was it Molly used to say? No sleep with a full mind and an empty stomach? Harry knew that food wouldn\'t help. Pushing the sheets down to his waist and shifting his position again, Harry tried once more to clear his mind. Of course, it didn\'t work.

He was aching for Rael. All he had to do was think of that gorgeous red hair, his smile, the smell of him, and Harry\'s cock was instantly hard. No doubt Tonks would say that was to be expected after the marking. Bugger the marking, it felt good. And Harry missed the vampire as if they had known each other for years. Still, there was something nattering about the way he felt. His mind was still somewhat fuzzy. Thinking of Rael was easiest, natural. Harry had given Rael a quick parting kiss when he had ushered him out of the back gate a few hours earlier. Almost as an afterthought, they had agreed to meet the following evening at the little coffee shop on Shipton. And then Rael had walked away up the alley.

Bugger!

He shifted in the bed again, the sheet becoming twisted around his tired legs. And Rael wasn\'t the only topic occupying Harry\'s sleep-deprived brain. Draco was gone. He was certain of it when they had found Tonks sprawled in the garden. It annoyed him intensely that his prize had been taken from him prematurely. He had wanted to scan Draco\'s mind once more, while he was awake. He had learned a great deal, but nothing that would turn the tide in the battle against Riddle. Harry was amazed that he hadn\'t exploded in the parlor from the anxiety of it all. It was slowly building through the whole discussion and ensuing argument with Tonks, and it had been all Harry could do to keep from losing control. Again.

Harry smiled to himself as he recalled losing his temper with Tonks. It had actually let off just enough pressure for him to keep his relative composure. Part of his anger had actually been with himself. As much as he hated to admit it, Tonks was right. It was just sheer luck that Rael turned out to be the world\'s coolest vampire. It was that Potter luck, his own sort of automatic Felix Felicis, that kicked in at just the right moment. By rights, he should be a bloodless corpse by now.

Harry tossed again as he recalled waiting those few agonizingly long moments after Tonks left before he flung open the basement door, rushing down the stairs and finding the cell empty. Even though he had expected it, Harry had barely controlled the rage this time. He had bloodied both his hands as he had ransacked the basement, ending by beating his fists against the unyielding brick walls. Kreacher had merely stared at him, making no attempt to block Harry when he had used Legilimency on the elf. All he got from that waste of energy were swirling clouds of misty elf-memories, much like the self-altered memories from Slughorn that Harry had seen in the pensieve.

Draco was still gone, and whomever had removed him had somehow gotten by Kreacher, which was no mean feat. And they had managed to alter the elf\'s memories. Harry was still attempting to ponder how that could have happened, when, unbeknownst to himself, he finally drifted into sleep. He was also unaware of the shadowy, silent shape that watched hungrily from his open window, lounging on the sill, luminous silver eyes fixed on the sleeping wizard. Rael watched as Harry twitched and shifted, his dream taking over control of his tired mind and body........

...Harry was in the kitchen of the Burrow, and he was walking out into the gnome-infested garden. There was someone standing there in the moonlight, with their back to him. Harry approached the shadowy form, and drank in the lovely arse, the long, shoulder length hair. He reached up and put his hand on Ron\'s shoulder, and Ron turned to him, smiling. Harry reached up and kissed Ron deeply, their tongues wrestling passionately. The kiss lasted forever, and then Ron turned and walked into the house. At the door, he motioned for Harry to follow. As he stepped towards the house, a cold hand clamped on Harry\'s shoulder, and whirled him around. Harry stared up at the vampire, whose fangs were bared and dripping blood. Rael sank his fangs into Harry\'s neck savagely, ripping flesh and muscle. Harry\'s knees went out from under him, and Rael lowered him to the ground, draining him, blood flowing all over Harry\'s bare shoulders and chest. Then, a huge brown shape crashed into Rael, ripping the fangs from Harry\'s neck. Somehow regaining his balance, Harry stood and watched as the werewolf attacked Rael, tearing and ripping at the vampire in a frenzy of fangs and claws. Harry moved towards them, and cried out to the werewolf. \"Stop! Please, Stop!\" The werewolf turned its blood-covered snout in his direction, the brown eyes blazing with fury. Moony stood up on his hind legs, and advanced on Harry, grasping him with his powerful paws. Snarling, Moony bit down on Harry\'s other shoulder, ripping and tearing the flesh. Harry screamed in pain, and Moony released him, turning to bound off into the night, howling. Stumbling, covered in his own blood, Harry moved toward the house, where Ron was standing just inside the doorway, watching, smiling, gesturing for him to come inside. Harry made it to the doorway, and stepped through into the dark passageway. The cold, wet stone walls stretched ahead, and Harry could make out a shape in front of him, moving towards a light at the end of the passage. He tried to move faster, but his legs were too heavy and betrayed him. After an eon, he reached the end of the passage, and the bright light outside obscured the figure waiting for him there. All Harry could make out was a dark shadow surrounded by brightness. As he got closer, the shadow motioned for Harry to come closer, and then pointed to his right. Looking up as he reached for the shadowy figure, Harry could make out the long, dark hair, the smile. The shadow gently put his hand on Harry\'s shoulder, and pushed him in the direction of his other pointing hand, into the bright sunshine. Harry shambled into the front yard of the cottage at Godric\'s Hollow, through the front door of his parent\'s house, just as the figure in purple robes and matching hat disappeared around a corner. Using the last of his energy, Harry sprinted forward, and reached the corner, turning it to find his Mother standing there, looking down at him, smiling. Stepping aside, Harry saw that his Aunt Petunia was standing behind her, crying, wearing a pink blouse and skirt. His Mother lifted his chin, and gestured to Harry\'s aunt, and gently pushed him towards her. Petunia put out her hands, and offered Harry the parchment she was holding. Harry gaped at it, not knowing what to do, when the fangs sunk into his shoulder once again, and Harry screamed in agony......

...as he sat straight up in his bed gasping for air. The sun had just risen, and the clouds were stained red, as with blood. The moldy old curtains flapped in the cool morning breeze, chilling Harry\'s sweat-soaked body. Frantically running his hands over his shoulders and neck, he found only the single mark from Rael. Seeing no blood on his chest or stomach, Harry slowly realized that it had been a dream, but a very realistic one. It has to do with the Mark, he thought, as he wiped the sweat from his forehead, quickly pressing his temples to help him wake up. He had dreamed of Ron before, but the images of Rael and Remus transformed sent a shudder down his spine. And he had never dreamed of his Aunt Petunia before. And she never wore pink, either. Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, Harry slowly stood up and stretched. It didn\'t seem like he had slept at all. With a deep yawn, he headed for the bathroom.

After a very long, very hot shower, Harry stood in front of the pocked mirror over the sink, wiping the condensation with a towel. Rael\'s mark looked unchanged, as fresh as ever. Barely touching one of the bite holes, Harry nearly fell to the floor as his knees went to jelly. Catching himself on the basin, it took a moment before his head cleared. He checked in the cabinet for something to cover up the mark with. Not finding anything there, Harry conjured some gauze and tape, and fashioned a crude bandage. Satisfied, he checked out the heavier stubble on his face. Harry considered shaving, but again decided to leave it. Someone likes it this way, he thought.

Wrapping a towel around him, more out of habit than anything else, Harry padded across the hallway to his bedroom. Glancing down the stairs, he heard the sound of the boombox wafting up to him from the kitchen. Smiling, he walked into his room and grabbed a pair of clean jeans from the pile that he still hadn\'t put away yet. Pulling them on, and fastening them as he walked down the stairs, Harry realized that he was very, very hungry.

As he approached the kitchen door, Harry could make out that the music was the new single from The Weird Sisters, \"Petrificus Totalus:\"

Baby, you\'ve got me under your spell,
I\'m petrified by you, can\'t you tell?
Point your wand at me anytime,
I wanna be cursed by you, so sublime!
Pe--trif-i-cus To--tal--us!
Pe--trif-i-cus To--tal--us!
Your love stirs my pha--llus,
Pe--trif-i-cus To--tal--us!

Standing in the doorway, Harry watched as Neville cleaned up about the kitchen, his head bobbing up and down in time to the music. He couldn\'t fathom why Neville was so enamored with him. Still, Harry couldn\'t deny that he had developed feelings for his friend over the summer. Neville was always there for him. Until this morning, Harry had dutifully pushed those thoughts aside. Was this some sort of rebound after The Talk with Ron? Maybe so. But right now, Harry found that he had the most irresistible urge to shag the living daylights out of Longbottom.

There was a bag spilling its contents on the table, and it was clear Neville had stopped at the market on his way to Grimmauld. Looks like I\'m not the only one who couldn\'t sleep, he thought. Harry failed to suppress a chuckle as Neville did a rather sloppy bump\'n grind in accompaniment to the song\'s chorus. Neville, hearing the commentary, whirled around, blushing deeply. He awkwardly batted at the boombox to turn down the volume.

\"Harry! Mornin\'! I hope I didn\'t wake you?\" Neville\'s expression darkened when he noticed the bandage on his friend\'s neck. \"What happened there? Are you OK?\" Neville rushed over to Harry and began to examine the gauze carefully, barely poking at it and attempting to lift the edge up to peek underneath.

Harry quickly but gently moved Neville\'s hand away from the mark, and conjured up his best reassuring smile. \"It\'s nothing, Nev. Really. I was helping Kreacher with the doxies in the parlor after you left, and a really nasty one gave me a lovebite, that\'s all.\"

Neville winced, and again put his hand to Harry\'s shoulder, slowly moving his hand around his neck and the area of the bandage, his touch warm on Harry\'s bare skin. He allowed Neville to complete his examination, and after a few moments, the other wizard withdrew his hand and made a face.


\"Well, we should contact Madam Pomfrey and have her take a look at it. A bite like that could get infected. Bloody doxies! That damned elf of yours needs an attitude adjustment! I don\'t know why you ever allowed him back into this house anyway.\" Neville\'s gaze met Harry\'s, and they simply stared at each other in silence.

Harry reached over and placed a hand on Neville\'s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. \"Aw, no need to bother Poppy on a Sunday morning. I took care of it last night. I doesn\'t even hurt, really. I\'m fine, Nev. More embarrassed than anything, being bitten by a doxie.\" Neville nodded grudgingly, and Harry continued.

\"And you know as well as I do that there really wasn\'t any choice about taking Kreacher back. McGonagall said he was causing too much trouble at Hogwarts, and Hermione made it clear that there\'d be hell to pay if I didn\'t allow him to come back. Now, if you want to take Hermione on, have at it.\"

Neville made another frowny face, shaking his head. \"No way, mate. I\'d rather deal with Kreacher than piss off Hermione. She\'s one scary witch when she gets her knickers in a twist.\"

Both wizards chuckled, and Neville looked down at the floor for a moment. When he looked back up, the smile had faded, replaced by a rather serious expression.

Harry smiled. Here it comes!


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Neville had gone over what he would say to Harry all morning. He practiced and edited his speech all the way to Grimmauld Place, sometimes bumping into other pedestrians as he hurried on his way. The clerk in the Muggle market had had to come out from behind the counter and tap Neville on his shoulder to stop him as he left the shop. Neville had been so engrossed in his rehearsal, he had paid for his groceries with galleons instead of Muggle money. The clerk was polite about it, and wished Neville good luck as he went on his way. By the time he dropped the wards and opened the back door, he was satisfied with what he was going to say. Turning on the boombox, he had busied himself tidying up and getting ready for breakfast.

He had gotten into the music, and hadn\'t noticed when Harry had entered the kitchen. Neville had heard his friend\'s chuckle, and turned to see Harry standing there, his hair still wet and wearing nothing but a pair of jeans. His carefully rehearsed speech evaporated instantly as he forgot to breathe. Great Merlin, he\'s fucking gorgeous!

Then he had noticed the huge bandage on Harry\'s neck, and had rushed over clucking like a mother hen. One Molly Weasley is enough, he had reminded himself. Still, he couldn\'t bear the idea of his Harry being hurt anymore. There\'d already been too much of that. And then Harry had touched him, squeezing his shoulder, sending a bolt of energy right down to his toes. And then Harry had smiled, and Neville drowned in it.

Without a word, Neville put both of his hands on Harry\'s shoulders, stepping closer as he ran them slowly down that impossibly smooth, wonderful skin, finally resting them on Harry\'s hips. Harry put his other hand on Neville\'s shoulder as well, and pulled Neville closer. Their hips touched together, and Neville could feel Harry\'s arousal. A soft moan escaped his lips as he pressed his own aching erection against it. Harry slowly swayed back and forth, and reaching up slightly, brushed his lips against Neville\'s. The sensation of his friend\'s moist, wet lips against his own nearly overcame him, and his head swam pleasantly as Harry\'s tongue was eagerly seeking out his own. Greedily, he returned the gesture, and the kiss became more intense, more frantic, as their breaths turned into frenzied gasps.

Neville reached his hands around to Harry\'s backside, one hand massaging that wonderful jean-clad arse, the other sliding down inside Harry\'s jeans, his fingers tingling as they explored more impossibly soft, warm skin. Harry began to move them towards the table, awkwardly pushing Neville backwards until they bumped into it with a shrill scraping of the table leg on tile. Sliding his hands down Neville\'s sides, Harry hooked them under Neville\'s t-shirt, lifting it up. They broke their kiss as Neville lifted his arms up and let Harry pull the shirt over his head, mussing his hair. Tossing the shirt across the room, Harry ran his hands over Neville\'s chest, ghosting over the nipples, dragging his fingernails lightly over them, watching as Neville gasped. Neville\'s cock was throbbing in his jeans, and he felt as if he was going to explode at any moment.

His chest heaving and sweat breaking out all over his body, Neville scrabbled at Harry\'s jeans, fumbling with the top button. Harry reciprocated, and Neville\'s jeans opened with a pop and a loud zip as Harry shoved them down, allowing Neville\'s engorged prick to bob free. Kneeling quickly, Harry grabbed it with one hand, and slowly began massaging it, while he teased the slit with his tongue, causing Neville to moan and shudder in ecstasy. Washing the head of Neville\'s cock with his tongue, Harry slowly took Neville\'s entire length into his mouth, grabbing Neville by both hips and rocking them in and out. Neville caught on, and began thrusting more quickly, his breaths becoming more and more ragged. Sensing that Neville was about to come, Harry withdrew his friend\'s throbbing member, giving it one last lash with his tongue as he quickly stood up. Ripping his jeans open, Harry shoved them down, and stepped out of them. Neville\'s eyes goggled at the sight of Harry\'s erect prick, and made to reach for it, but Harry mashed his lips into Neville\'s once again, struggling to shove his friend\'s jeans down.

Still roughly kissing Neville, Harry pushed his friend onto the tabletop, and simultaneously broke the kiss and yanked Neville\'s jeans off. Lunging on top of Neville, Harry once again pressed their lips together, and both of them moaned as their throbbing cocks slid against each other. Neville flung his arms around Harry\'s back, pulling him tighter, their sweat slicked chests and torsos sliding together as if they were made for each other. The grocery bag and its contents toppled over, spilling onto the floor. The table was busy making constant little scraping noises as it rocked to and fro on the tile. Neville clamped his hands to Harry\'s backside, grabbing his thrusting arse and aiding Harry to slide faster and faster. Neville\'s moaning increased, his breath catching in his chest. His orgasm erupted, the release shooting out and coating both of their bellies in the slick spunk. Harry thrust faster still, breaking the kiss so Neville could breathe. Neville thought he would faint as Harry\'s throbbing prick teased his own mercilessly, slick and smooth and hard. Harry moaned out loud, and a second later, he lifted himself up on his arms, releasing his load across Neville\'s stomach and chest.

Harry was still gasping as Neville hungrily reached up and pulled Harry down, smothering him with kisses, hugging him tightly. \"I love you, Harry,\" he whispered hoarsely between them. \"I love you so much.\" Harry turned his head and buried it in Neville\'s shoulder. They both laid there, sweaty, spent, sated, for a few moments while their breathing slowly returned to normal. After a time, Harry lifted his head and returned Neville\'s satisfied smile.

\"What\'s for breakfast?\"