Ron Weasley and the Alternative Unforgivable Curse

I wake up with a horrible jolt. The beds are still together. I am alone. The sheets are hard and stained. My mouth feels dry and like some animal crawled in there to die. My head is thumping and I know why it is, and it's not just the alcohol. I don't mind that. I am detached from myself; it's not me who's clinging onto the bed as if it will buck me off. I am outside of my head watching some guy who looks like me suffer.

I get up, wash and scrub myself until I am pink. I don't feel ashamed or dirty just... less smelly. I feel completely neutral, but with last night buzzing lazily, stumbling around my head.

At the breakfast table, Neville is nowhere to be seen. Probably out for a jog. I end up eating with Ginny and her mates. Is it me or are they laughing more than usual? Did they hear us? From the other side of the tower? I don't think so. I've got to stop this paranoia before it begins otherwise how will I live with myself? I'm still a little drunk, and I feel too stupid to think, not even to berate or hate myself for last night.

I quickly make my excuses after my porridge and go to leave the hall. I am still hungry, I think about turning back for a piece of toast when I see Neville hanging out by the door. He sees me, politely smiles and walks away.

***

As the day goes on, I feel cheap and the need to make things right with Neville gets on top of me. I don't know if I want to make last night a regular thing. Already I am a hypocrite. I hate gays. Hate their loud suits on Muggle television, their limp wrists and 'Sweetie DARLING!' attitude. If I were gay, that would be me, wouldn't it? Would I have to wear fake tan even though I have red hair, and all I do is burn, and just look like a skinny gay tomato poncing about Hogwarts? 'Hermione - sweetheart! Just say no to that hair!' and imagine me bounding up to Dean or Seamus - 'Who's your Daddy?' NO NO NO NO NO! IT'S NOT ME!

Maybe I am this one-night-stand junkie who would take man, woman, animal or object. Would I be humping a broomstick by lunchtime if I were given half a chance? I don't know! These strange thoughts are running through my head. Fantasies and metaphors are visiting. They are here to torture me. I know it.

Our lessons haven't been cancelled so I'll see Neville in Herbology.

***

He turns up all right. We partner as not to raise suspicion. (At Hogwarts we are very loyal to our house and will never partner with another unless we HAVE to) I want to talk but Neville says, 'Not now.' After the lesson, we go to the dormitory and sit on our now pushed apart beds, which the house elfs must have had a hell of a time doing.

Neville asks me what I wanted to talk about - isn't it obvious?

He also tells me he knows my attitude to gays and thought I was drunk after all that vodka and that we should put it behind us. He isn't quite looking me in the eye. It looks like to him that 'putting it behind him' would be the last thing that he would want to do. Typical - he wants to do 'the right thing'. How do we know what the right thing is though?

I feel panicky, like I want to hold onto him, keep him talking for longer as if to persuade him otherwise. I pull myself away from my thoughts and I ask him if he really wants to put it behind him. Neville replies that he likes my technique, and me. Then cheekily says he'd like to do it to me sober. That made me smile; its good to see a hint of humour in such a dire situation; because it is dire isn't it? This is madness, and these unorthodox circumstances - It could only really happen to me.

I hear myself telling Neville I want to see him again and relay my fear of being gay. Then the thought crosses my mind - what the hell do I tell my mother? She is really looking forward to me meeting a nice girl (Hermione - she always hints at Hermione) marrying her and making more Weasleys. I don't think I can pass Neville off as Hermione. Maybe it won't go that far, maybe Neville will decide he wants someone else before I get round to telling everyone. That idea makes me extremely irrational. I have to sit on my anger while Neville talks.

'Are you scared of ridicule, persecution maybe?' Neville says to me and tries to put me off. I knew it! He doesn't want me! 'We can't have a normal relationship like last night. It's too public. If the other students know as only a rumour, then it's bad enough, but the teachers knowing about us? I don't know their take on homosexuals, but I know it wouldn't be positive.'

I am mad, but this neediness overtakes that. 'Why can't we see how it goes?' I beg Neville. I suddenly think that I don't want to be without him. It is so weird. Days before I publicly verbally assassinated anyone who even thought being gay was a credible life choice. Now I want to be one. It doesn't make sense. It really... doesn't... make... sense.... I remember that stupid baby Cupid that features on Valentine's Day cards, he isn't just blind; he's got a lousy aim as well! What the heck am I doing thinking of some ancient mythical, fat, blonde, curly haired baby? I am in the middle of an adult conversation that is beginning to affect life as I know it! Am I about to enter the gay community I've always hated? Will they welcome me with open arms? I don't know and don't care; but I will prove to him why he should stay with me, and me only. I'm getting horny again.

I move over to Neville who is standing by the door, I push him against it and start to kiss him. I am really getting into the taste of him. I have virtually no experience, but just doing what feels good. Neville breaks away, is he going to reject me? Or say something important?

"What have we got next and how long?" pants Neville. I breathe a sigh of relief. I've got to stop this paranoia, he's said he likes me.

"Potions. One hour. Shut up," I reply, and carry on kissing him.

Neville breaks away again after a bit, then turns around and locks the door and I run to my bed and bounce up and down. I must look like the Muggle cartoon, Tigger, on speed, on a magic trampoline. Neville joins me and pulls the curtains around the bed.

"Nervous now you're sober?" he says. He's trying to be gentle, considerate, but he's treating me like glass - my morals anyway, there is no gentle way about his touches, I like that. Women just have fairy fingers.

I check myself. I am shaking like I'm cold. There are butterflies in my stomach, I can't tell if it is bad or not. I don't want Neville to think I am scared so I tell him I can't wait and will he just take my clothes off? I am scared though. I've never done this before, well only since last night, and I was so drunk. What if he laughs at my body in the harsh light of day now there is no alcohol to cloud his judgement?

He then goes on to mention that we could get caught, student, teacher, and house elves. The thought of that makes me excited. Neville sees the bulge in my trousers and smiles: 'I didn't even have to touch you.' He gets me naked and we do the stuff that we did last night with all the stroking and the licking. But we can't go too far as when we get to the proper deed, we may not come- apparently, I think Neville's having me on there. I want my turn to be over so I can go ahead and do him. Neville then asks if I have lubricant. I can't believe how blasé he's being about it, like he's asking to borrow a quill.

Um, hello I was 'straight' until yesterday, what is lubricant anyway? I don't want my inexperience to show, so I keep shut, and just give him a look. Neville smiles and apologises and explains to me the concept of lubricant. He then sticks his head out of the curtain and looks around the room. Harry had forgotten his moisturiser. I tell Neville straight there was no WAY in hell we'd use that. We'll have to go to Hogsmeade, Fred and George is selling a few sex things for a little extra profit in the back corner of the shop. I remember George telling me about how well these thins sell, as no other joke shop nearby does.

Neville tells me it doesn't matter and begins to kiss me and fondle my bum. I love kissing him; I could do this all day if it didn't give me an aching jaw and a numb tongue. I'm not sure if I'm ok with him doing that with my bum, but try to relax. It is all so new and alien to me. I don't know the right thing to do, or the right thing to say. My experience with women was vastly limited, and being with men would be a different kettle of fish altogether. And women are different creatures so they'll like different things. It's not a case of do to him what would please me then hope he likes it. We are all different. Damn the diversity of the human being!

***