Becoming Neville

That night Neville slept in his own bed, without Harry. The next day was a Monday, and time for another visit to St. Mungo's. Some time after he had gone to bed, the Weasleys had conferred with Remus, suggesting that Harry visit at the Burrow while Remus accompany Neville to St. Mungo's. Neville was sorry to miss Ron, but he realized it was best for Harry to go alone.

There were no more breakdowns that morning. Remus was almost his normal self, albeit a bit more quiet and moving stiffly. Neville was grateful to discover that no one had told his grandmother about his excursion. They had decided that she didn't need the added stress, and Harry and Neville had both readily sworn that they wouldn't leave the house unattended again.

Remus and Neville paid a quick visit to Mrs. Longbottom when they arrived at St. Mungo's, and then went to the residents' ward. At the desk, Neville talked to Nurse Nettlethorne and scheduled an appointment with Dr. Driftwood for the following Thursday. Remus went with him as he entered the ward, standing by the window while Neville talked to his father and let his mother brush his hair. When Neville was ready to go, Remus didn't move.

"This wallpaper is quite pleasant, isn't it?" he observed, nodding at the walls. "It used to be painted white. I hated it. So sterile."

Neville looked at the wallpaper. "I forgot. You used to live here, didn't you?"

Remus nodded. "My bed was at the end, next to the door so I could be close to the nurse's station. There were no other children on the ward. Sometimes at night I got frightened."

Neville shuddered. He'd been coming here all his life. In some ways he'd grown up here, too. But unlike Remus, he never had to stay. "Did you go to school before Hogwarts?"

"No. There was an old woman who'd lost both her legs and one arm when her cauldron exploded. She tutored me."

"I remember her," said Neville. "Miss Mulberry. Her face was sort of melted, but she was very nice."

"Yes. I was quite fond of her. What happened to her?"

"She died the year after I started school." Neville froze, wanting to kick himself for saying the "D" word, but Remus simply said, "She must have been pretty old by then. I used to write to her when I was at Hogwarts, but I stopped when I finished school." He frowned. "I should have kept in touch with her."

They walked in silence down the hallway and rode the lift to the entrance hall.

"Why don't we go out for lunch?" Remus suggested. "I don't really feel like going home."

"That sounds good to me."

They flooed over to Diagon Alley and found a restaurant with outdoor tables so they could sit in the sun. Grimmauld Place was far too gloomy, and Neville craved light.

As they picked at their meal, Remus said, "I'm sorry about what happened yesterday."

"What do you mean?"

"Falling apart like that. You shouldn't have been burdened with that."

Neville looked down at his plate. It didn't seem right for Remus to apologize to him. "I only wish there was something I could do."

"You did a lot, Neville, looking after both me and Harry."

Neville poked at his pie. "I'm sorry Sirius died. I guess you were awfully close to him."

"Yes."

There was an odd timbre in Remus's voice, and Neville looked up to see him staring blankly at the crowds walking by. It was strange to think of him as having been a student at school once, with friends and enemies. Neville wondered if years from now he would mourn any of his own classmates so deeply. There were some he liked more than others, but he wasn't really that close to any of them. He felt a pang of regret that perhaps he was missing something important. But what could he really do about it? There was nothing in Neville Longbottom to ever make him very popular. If he disappeared overnight, he doubted anyone would miss him much. He could picture a future where Harry, Ron, Dean and Seamus, all successful, wealthy and famous, gathered to swap reminiscences. And someone saying, "Didn't there used to be five of us in our dorm?" "Yes, who was that other one? Colin Creevy, wasn't it?" "Oh, yes. Wonder what ever happened to him?"

"It must be nice to have had such good friends in school," he said.

Remus's gaze returned to him. "Don't you have such friends?"

"Not really."

Remus studied him. "I guess you were something of a loner when I was teaching."

Neville shrugged and continued eating his chips.

"I started out that way, too," Remus said. "But I eventually made friends. So will you."

"They're nice and all. I like them." He paused, considering. There were so many ways that he didn't fit in. "Sometimes the boys in my dorm do strange things."

Remus laughed. "I'd say that's normal for teen-aged boys."

"I don't know," Neville mused, staring down at his plate.

"What do you mean?"

He bit his lip, not certain whether he should say anything. But Remus had always been willing to listen to him, and Neville couldn't imagine asking anyone else about these things. "Well, sometimes they...." Oh dear. He wasn't quite sure how to talk about it with an adult. "I mean, they...." He made a rather unmistakable gesture with his hand.

Remus's eyes widened. "Well, Neville, that's *quite* normal, believe me."

"But they do it in front of each other."

"Ah, I see." Remus cleared his throat. "Well, that's normal, too. It's natural for boys your age to be exploring their sexuality."

*Sexuality.* Such a strange, academic-sounding word for something that wasn't academic at all. When did studying ever cause someone to sweat and pant and make a mess in the bedsheets? "So it doesn't mean they're poofs?"

"That's not a very nice word, Neville."

"Sorry. What should I say, then?"

"I prefer the term 'gay,' myself."

Neville did not. It seemed inappropriate. He certainly didn't feel deliriously cheerful about fancying boys. On the contrary, it involved a lot of anxiety and worry. "Well then, it doesn't mean that they're...," he couldn't bring himself to say it "...*that way*?"

"Not necessarily. As I said, it's normal for boys to experiment."

Experiment. Yes. A *lot* of that was going on among his dorm mates. "But what if one of them *was* - that way?"

Remus's eyes narrowed as he studied Neville closely. Then he sat back in his chair and shrugged. "Would that matter?"

He sounded so nonchalant, Neville could almost believe it really didn't matter. "Shouldn't it?" he asked, just to make sure.

"I should hope not, since I'm that way myself."

Neville's eyes almost popped out of his head. "You are?!"

"Indeed."

"But - how do you know?"

Remus answered with a lop-sided smile. "The usual way, I expect. When I was young, I realized that everyone I fancied was a boy."

Neville pondered that. There was a certain logic to it. He didn't quite know what to say. It had never occurred to him that he might know a grown-up who was...that way. Though admittedly he had a hard time thinking of grown-ups and sex at the same time. Certainly grown-ups had sex; babies had to come from somewhere, after all. But the thought of any grown-up having sex - especially a grown-up he knew - and most especially a teacher - was enough to induce a definite feeling of nausea. Sex seemed too messy and crazy and undignified for grown-ups. Yet here was Remus, a grown-up and a former teacher, who turned out to be *that way.*

Once he got over the shock a bit, he realized that this was an excellent opportunity to ask the really secret questions that he knew for a fact he could never ask of *anyone* he knew.

"So," he began, then stopped, not sure where to start. Remus obligingly waited, sipping at his drink. Neville licked his lips and tried again. "So if it's normal for boys to...experiment together, and it doesn't mean they're-they're," he grimaced, "*gay*, what if you are that way? How do you know another boy is too, and not just experimenting?"

"Ah. That's very tricky. Still, there are things that give you a clue. If you touch his hand or his knee and he doesn't move away. If you look at him and he doesn't look away. And kissing. Generally boys don't kiss if they're not gay."

Neville perked up at that. "They don't? Even if they say they just want to practice?"

"I suppose sometimes straight boys might practice kissing together, but I don't think it's as common as the other."

"So what if there were two boys who wanted to practice kissing, and they practiced regularly. And what if one time they pulled themselves off while kissing. And what if one of them might be, but the other one never said he was? And he only said that he wanted to practice kissing because he'd kissed a girl once and it hadn't gone very well, so he wanted to practice with someone he trusted so that next time he would do better?" Neville thought that probably covered everything, and he looked expectantly at Remus, who looked like he was about to be trampled by a Hippogriff.

"Well," Remus said, and his voice sounded unnaturally high. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Perhaps you have an uncle or someone you ought to discuss these things with?"

Neville thought of his Uncle Algie and cringed. "No way."

"Right." Remus cleared his throat again. "Of course, I couldn't say for certain, but that sounds like more than mere experimentation to me."

Neville's heart pounded loudly in his ears, and he had to clasp him hands together in his lap to keep them from trembling. Could it really be? Might Harry like him? The thought filled him with equal parts joy and terror. He had been telling himself that he was just practicing, too. Yes, he fancied boys, and he definitely fancied Harry, but he hadn't gone into this expecting Harry to fancy him back. This possibility would change the terms with which they were dealing with each other, and he had no idea what if anything he should do about that.

"You really think the other boy might be that way, too?" he asked.

"It's a definite possibility."

"But how could you find out for certain?"

"The direct approach would be to ask, but I don't necessarily recommend it. Your age can be a very confusing time, and some boys are reluctant to admit to such feelings. It can be easier to act first and talk later."

Neville nodded. He couldn't imagine talking about this with Harry.

"As I said earlier, you might try holding his hand some time," Remus offered. "Discreetly, of course. But if he doesn't move away, that's a pretty good sign."

He tired to picture himself holding Harry's hand, and his stomach went all warm and wobbly at the image.

"Do you really like this boy?" Remus gently asked.

Caught up in that picture of him holding Harry's hand, he answered with a silly smile on his face, "Yeah."

Remus's expression softened. "I don't want to deceive you, Neville. Being gay is not easy. Some people can be very prejudiced. But if you find someone who really loves you back, it can be wonderful."

"Did you love Sirius? Was it like that for you?"

A shadow crossed Remus's face. "With Sirius, it was very complicated."

Neville sat forward, eager to hear more about real men who fancied each other. "How do you mean?"

"Er, well.... Sometimes the people we love aren't really the best thing for us."

Neville pondered this. "Sirius was bad for you?"

"Sirius and I were very close friends. He loved me in his own way. But twelve years in Azkaban would be hard on anyone, and he could be very difficult to deal with."

He fell silent, and Neville realized that he was prying into some very personal matters. He wondered if Harry knew that his godfather and Remus were both queer. That thought led inexorably down a certain track that he had often pondered while lying awake at night in the shelter of his curtained bed, when he contemplated the kinds of things one never should discuss with anyone. But this was a golden opportunity, and he figured he might as well ask. "So how exactly do two boys have sex?"

Remus choked and turned bright red. "Are you *sure* there isn't someone else you could talk about this with?"

Neville emphatically shook his head.

"Right." Remus sighed and looked around at the passers-by. "In that case, I suggest we find someplace a bit more discreet to continue this conversation."

In the end they went back to Grimmauld Place, where Remus obligingly answered Neville's most excruciatingly intimate questions. Ainsley Wooding had given Neville some ideas about the possibilities, but he'd always suspected that Ainsley spoke more from theory than from practical experience. Remus, however, was every bit as good a teacher in sex education as he had been in Defense Against the Dark Arts, equipping Neville with all manner of helpful information, advice, and counsel.

As their conversation wound down, Neville felt his own secret weighing heavily upon him. He wanted to thank Remus for his candor by telling him the truth, but he also just wanted to tell someone - someone that he could really trust. He'd never had such a frank discussion on any topic with an adult before; nor, for that matter, with any of his peers. So if he was going to tell someone, Remus would be the very best choice.

After a long, comfortable silence between them, Neville rallied his courage. "I think you ought to know that...." He took a deep, fortifying breath and blurted out, "I'm that way, too. I mean, I'm like you are. I...I'm gay. I guess."

A quick smile flitted over Remus's face, but it was gone quickly, replaced by his typical expression of sympathetic understanding. "That's not a very easy thing to share with anyone, and I'm honored that you told me, Neville. Rest assured, I would not break your confidence in me by telling anyone else."

"Thanks." Neville breathed a sigh of relief. "I don't think my Gran would be too happy about it."

"And I do hope things work out with that other boy."

"You knew that was me?"

"A lucky guess." Remus stood and stretched, his joints popping. "Now why don't we have some dinner? After all that talk, I'm starving."

"I'll cook," Neville volunteered. As they headed to the kitchen, he asked, "Remus, do you think you might take me and Harry to the Muggle cinema some time? We didn't find one in London yesterday."

Remus smiled at him. "It would be my pleasure."

*****

It was very late by the time Harry came back from the Burrow. He burst out of the fireplace in a shower of soot, coughing and shaking out his hair, covered in gray ash.

"Harry, what happened to you?" Neville exclaimed.

His cheek was scratched, and a knot stood out on his forehead, above his left eye. "Oh nothing," he said cheerfully. "I just fell out of a tree."

"You were climbing?"

"Of course not! What kind of an idiot falls while climbing a tree? The broom froze."

"You fell off your broom?"

"No! I fell out of the tree. And anyway, it wasn't my broom. It was the Weasleys'. Mine wouldn't have frozen."

Neville frowned in confusion. "What does the broom freezing have to do with your falling out of a tree?"

"Well, I had to use the broom, didn't I? How else was I supposed to get the fish out of that bird's nest?"

Neville looked over to Remus, who shrugged. "It doesn't make any sense to me, either."

"We didn't mean for the fish to end up in the bird's nest," Harry explained. "It just sort of happened."

Remus nodded, as if he was used to that kind of thing happening. "I take it you had a good day, then?"

"Splendid!" Harry beamed.

Neville asked, "How's Ron?"

"He's fine. His dad is trying to talk his mum out of grounding him."

"Situation normal at the Burrow," quipped Remus.

"I bet she lets him off. It wasn't really his fault anyway. So what did you two do today?"

Neville froze, his cheeks burning in embarrassment, but Remus casually answered, "Not much. We just talked."

"That's good," said Harry, scarcely paying attention. He turned the conversation back to himself, rattling away a disjointed account of his day with Ron, while Neville and Remus nodded and periodically said "Really?" not even trying to keep up. Neville was a little jealous of Harry's close friendship with Ron. He doubted Harry would rant so enthusiastically about his time spent with Neville. But he couldn't be too angry. Harry had been so depressed when he left that morning that Neville was just grateful to see him so cheerful again.

They sat around the kitchen table chatting, until Harry started yawning. "Sorry," he said, after a particularly noisy yawn. "Guess I'm tired after all that. I think I'll turn in."

"Yeah, me too," said Neville.

Remus glanced at Neville, and he almost seemed to wink. "Good night then, boys. Sleep well."

They said good night and traipsed up the stairs, Harry following Neville into his room. "I didn't want to ask around Remus," Harry began. "What happened at the hospital? Did you find out about Driftwood?"

Pleased that Harry hadn't completely forgotten about him, Neville said, "Yeah. I have an appointment with him on Thursday."

"That's great. Ron and me sent another owl to Hermione. He said she was looking some things up about him, but hadn't found anything yet. Maybe she will by Thursday." Harry rapidly stripped out of his clothes and changed into his pajamas, crawling into Neville's bed as if he owned it. Neville changed slowly, feeling more awkward and excited and nervous around Harry than he had in a while.

"So you and Remus had a good time today?" Harry asked as Neville slid under the covers next to him.

"Yeah."

"What did you talk about?"

"Stuff," was Neville's vague reply.

It was enough of an answer for Harry. "That's good. Remus is the best, isn't he?"

"Yeah," Neville said again, glad that Harry's general good will to the world had been restored. He wondered once more if Harry knew about Remus and Sirius.

Harry crawled up next to Neville, their noses almost touching. "Still, it would have been fun if you'd come to the Burrow, too."

Neville bit his lip hard to keep from smiling giddily at that. "Maybe next time. That is, if Mrs. Weasley doesn't ground Ron."

"Mmm." Harry drowsed, his eyes sliding closed.

"I expect you're pretty tired," Neville said.

"Mmm, yeah." Harry cracked one eye open. "Not too tired, though. You want to?"

"Sure."

Without preamble, Harry stuck his hand down Neville's pants. Neville instantly went rigid as Harry's sweaty hand groped clumsily at him, and he fumbled to get his own hand into Harry's pants. They bumped noses and never quite managed to kiss as they jerked and stroked together. It was over in seconds, so awkwardly hot and wonderful Neville thought he might die from sheer ecstasy. Harry fell asleep almost immediately, his hand still down Neville's pants. Neville didn't know how all this fit in with everything he and Remus had talked about, but right now he didn't care. The mysteries of the universe didn't seem quite so urgent when Harry's hand was on his cock, and his breath on Neville's cheeks.