Amidst The Ashes

Chapter 2

Three weeks passed. They had been woken at dawn the morning following the raid. Charlie was immediately sent to deal with an incident involving some type of creature. Neville had gone to help defend the family of a Muggle-born student. The war continued.

He'd been "home", well back at Hogwarts, for three days. A meeting was due to start in an hour, and he should get up. He should shower and eat something. He rolled over and buried his face in his pillow instead. It was nice to sleep in a bed. There were familiar curtains and solid stone walls and sounds of laughter and grumbling from the Common Room. It felt like the past, like childhood.

It was rare for any of the seventh year boys to sleep at Hogwarts these days. They were all off, going wherever they were needed. Neville hadn't seen Harry in months. He worried about him from time to time, wished he could help carry the burden, but he knew that he could not. He had burden enough of his own. They all did.

Neville closed his eyes. The images that sprang onto the screen of his mind were in no way childish. Seamus and Dean had been best friends since first year. They had laughed together, discussed Quidditch, sampled Seamus' "home brew", thrown up together in response. Neville had grown accustomed to thinking of them as a pair. He'd never imagined them as a couple.

It hadn't been unreasonable for Seamus and Dean to assume that they were alone. He'd been awake but lying very still, with the lights off. The scene with Charlie replayed again and he'd put his fingers to his lips. There had been the sound of footsteps. The door had swung open, and slammed shut. There was whispering, which quickly grew to quiet talking. "No need to whisper in my ear, Seam, no one here to hear you now."

Neville had been lying there for some time. It was late, but it wasn't really dark in the room. The window was uncovered and the moon was fairly bright; and Neville's vision had adjusted. He had not moved, had not spoken; even when he'd known that he should. He had an unobstructed view of Dean's bed, the one that was positioned flush with the window. Neville'd made absolutely no attempt not to watch, hadn't closed his eyes or tried not to listen.

Seamus and Dean kissed, clung together, tore at each other's clothes. "Too close," Seamus said. "It was too close. I thought..."

His words had been cut off by a hard, almost punishing kiss. "I know, don't talk. It didn't happen. Not yet. Don't spoil this."

Seamus had gasped when Dean yanked his shirt over his head and proceeded to shed the rest of his clothing. "Hurry up! I..."

This time it was Seamus who had stopped the flow of words. He'd run his hand down Dean's chest, stopping somewhere below his waist. Dean's breath had caught. He had been turned away, so Neville couldn't see precisely what was happening; but then he'd not needed to see to know.

It had been fast, and desperate and hot. Seamus managed somehow to get undressed while still touching his partner at all times. Dean had shoved him back onto the bed. Seamus had pulled him after. There was more kissing, a whispered spell, gasps and moans and the occasional curse word. "Yes! Just like that. Make me forget."

The room had been light enough to see, but dark enough to blur the entire scene, form it in shadows and silhouette. Sounds as old as the castle echoed against the walls. Sweat and musk and sex perfumed the air. Neville had closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again the picture had changed. He overlaid his own features in place of his Irish friend. Dean's dark hands gained freckles, his shoulders broadened. His own fantasy moved in front of his eyes and he'd known that he should be embarrassed or ashamed or guilty, but was not.

Neville hadn't moved, though the ache in his groin eventually turned to pain. He bit hard on his own lip when Seamus arched and cried out. He held his breath until his chest burned when Dean collapsed, then shook with the effort it took to let the air go silently. Neville had closed his eyes and paid no attention to whatever it was they said to each other in the aftermath. He'd played images in his head: red hair and tanned skin and strong hands and...

There was noise in the room now. Neville was going to be late if he did not rise soon. He promised himself that he would get up, any moment now.

He'd waited until they slept. He'd lived with them long enough to know that change in Seamus' breathing, the rumble of Dean's quiet snore. Then he'd waited longer, sweating. At last, in the deepest part of the night, he had slid silently from his bed, taken his wand and cloak and shoes and clothes, and crept from the room.

Neville banished the thoughts of what he had done in the bathroom before changing back into his clothes from the day before. He hoped again that no one had heard Charlie's name, called out in the dark.

Neville had slept the last few hours of dark on the couch in the common room. He'd told his dormmates that he had gotten in late and couldn't make it past the fire. That had been two nights ago now.

"Neville, mate! Did you die? You have to get up. Did you forget the meeting? Dumbledore may not be handing out detentions to us anymore but he'll likely be unhappy if you skip it."

Neville was certain that he blushed scarlet when he groaned, feigning sleep, and rolled to his side to look at Seamus. He grabbed his pillow, covered his face, and muttered... "Yes, yes, bright, two minutes. I'm coming." He groaned again at his poor choice of words.

~~~~~~~~~~

The meeting was more of the same old thing. There were lists of casualties, discussions of strategy, and an update on what Harry was doing - carefully leaving out his location as a matter of course.

Neville was not late to the meeting, but he was late enough to miss the opportunity of having a chair. He stood near the back, behind the chairs but not against the wall. There were about 30 people in the room, and he knew just over half of them. Seamus and Dean were sitting side by side near the front. Neville noticed seemingly accidental touches and gave them new significance. Movement in the corner caught his attention and he turned to see Charlie for the first time in weeks. Neville looked away quickly, staring at Dumbledore.

A few minutes later assignments were give out. Neville's name was not mentioned on the short list. "One last thing, and then we'll take volunteers to join those already mentioned. Professor Snape has a remarkable announcement for us. Professor."

Neville still disliked the man, but he was no longer terrified by his mere presence. Snape in no way failed to make his opinion of Neville abundantly clear. Nevertheless, Neville dutifully gave his attention to the Potions Master.

"It has taken some time, and the efforts of some of my few talented students, but we have made a breakthrough." His voice was triumphant. He would have been smiling if he had been anyone else. Neville was intrigued. "A strengthened version of the impediment potion will soon be available for use on the more dangerous missions. As you may or may not be aware," he sneered at Neville, "this potion will impede curses. It will provide the drinker with protection from all but the darkest magic for a period of up to three hours."

Snape stepped back as the room broke into tumultuous applause. This was a boon for their side. Nothing yet discovered could protect someone from the unforgivable curses, but to have protection from all others would be immeasurably helpful. Neville joined in the clapping, impressed.

Dumbledore took the floor again, holding up his hands. "Yes, yes. Well done, Severus! Well done indeed." He beamed at his former student and turned back to the room. "Now, as you may suspect, ingredients will be needed for this potion. Some of them are quiet rare, but all grow in our forest. Neville, I would like you to take the lead in this. We will provide you with assistance of course."

Snape snorted, snatched the list from Dumbeldore and stalked toward Neville. "Longbottom." The name dripped disdainfully from between his yellow teeth. "I'm told," he paused, lending obvious emphasis to the fact that whatever it was he had been told was likely untrue, "that you are not entirely hopeless with plants." He held the list out. Neville took it, secretly relieved that his hand was steady.

Snape turned and took a step back towards the front of the room. Neville had only just begun to relax when the man spun on the spot, "Do try not to screw this up, Longbottom. Lives depend on it. Lives other than your own." Neville took a step back at the force of sheer venom in that voice. He hadn't meant to. Snape was near the front of the room again when Neville's foot came down on something that had been left on the floor. He wobbled, twisted and fell.

There was utter silence for a moment and then the room rang with laughter. Neville's face burned, heat rushing up from his chest. He knew that everyone was tense, that any release at all was a good thing. He knew that not every person was ridiculing him; but knowing and feeling were entirely different things. He pushed the list into the pocket of his robes and looked up find himself staring at the one person who was not laughing.

Charlie Weasley reached down, grabbed his hand, and pulled him smoothly to his feet. Neville felt sick. Charlie smiled and said something that caused everyone else to smile as well, in a kind way this time. Neville heard nothing but the rushing of blood in his ears. He nodded, stammered thanks, and promised the room that he would take care of the list. "I should really get started - now."

Neville pushed his way through the doors of the room and practically fled back to the Tower. He would have gone straight to the greenhouses if he had not needed his gloves. Neville missed the puzzled look on Charlie's face as he left the room, missed too the glare that all but pinned the Potions Master to the wall.

~~~~~~~~~

Neville forcibly stopped the mantra of "why me" that had been running through his head. Why not you, Neville? It's done. Get on with what needs getting on with. The voice of reason in his head always sounded like his Gran. He flinched, then called himself a fool for having the ability to make himself flinch.

Neville grabbed his rucksack, his heavier cloak and his dragon-hide gloves. The list was long. He took a minute to sit at the desk and go over it carefully. Some of these plants were dangerous. All were quite rare. His collection of Herbology books was relatively large and he searched for a moment before finding the correct volume. A quick review of the index reassured him that it would tell him all he needed to know. He added the book to the other items in his pack and double-checked that he still had the list. With sudden inspiration, he sat back down to copy it onto another sheet of paper. It would be such a capper to his day if he lost the list. Neville retrieved the reference book and used a sticking charm to secure his freshly made copy to the inside of the cover. He replaced everything, put the original list in his pocket and started toward the greenhouses.

To say he was startled did not even begin to cover Neville's reaction when he found Charlie waiting for him by the supply shed. He was happy to see him, and mentally catalogued the color of his shirt and the knapsack on his shoulder. His thoughts flew to inappropriate places and he blinked to remove them. They had never spoken about that night in the tent. Neville had spent hours off and on wondering if Charlie thought him hopelessly weak and foolish. Why was he here now? Were they still friends? Had Charlie wanted to work with Neville, or had he only volunteered because no one else was willing to after the show he'd put on in the meeting? Was there anything worse than pity? How would he know? The sun was glancing off that lovely thick hair. Would it be as soft as it looked if Neville ran his fingers through it?

The thoughts ran in tangled circles around each other in the few seconds of time between Neville seeing Charlie and Charlie realizing that he had been seen. Neville smiled awkwardly and searched for something to say. Charlie took that burden from him.

"Looks like it's you and me today, Nev." Neville liked the way his name sounded, shortened and falling from Charlie's lips. "I brought lunch. Tell me what else we need and we'll make like Red Riding Hood and head off into the forest."

Neville smiled in spite of himself. "I know for a fact that there are worse things than wolves in that particular forest." It was easier already. Neville pushed open the door to the shed and Charlie followed him inside.

"You'll need gloves," Neville said, "and we need a few things from this shed - tools, a few pots, a couple of gardening potions and Sprout's map of the forest." Neville opened a drawer in a low cupboard and pulled out a tightly bound scroll. "Mind you it's not exact," he cautioned as he spread the parchment out on a nearby workbench, "because the forest changes all the time. This will hopefully give us a few places to start searching."

Charlie came near and stood looking over Neville's shoulder at the map. Neville pulled out his list and began to place magical dots on the map in the places where list plants were supposed to be found. Stepping to one side, Charlie leaned across him and pointed to a spot in the upper corner. "There. Is that one? The fourth down?"

Neville nodded, placing a dot in the indicated space. He breathed in Charlie's scent as the man moved back, his arm brushing Neville's hand. Sunlight, Neville thought.

After about 15 minutes they had identified tentative locations for all but one plant. Neville pulled out his book and showed Charlie the color picture of Emantnalp looctresni.. "We'll just have to keep an eye out for this as we go along."

~~~~~~

The air in the forest was close, thick, redolent with age and decay and growing things. Neville told himself time and again that he could not actually feel malice from the trees. We are not walking through a novel and I am not Bilbo.

The plants closest to the forest's edge were both relatively easy to find and relatively benign. Neville and Charlie took cuttings and filled a bag with bits of leaves and stem and roots. Neville also carefully excavated and transplanted several small samples of each plant to pots.

It was Charlie's idea to find a central location and set up a shield spell. They left the samples, transplants, bags of seeds, etc. in the protective bubble. It saved them work as well as worry, because the bags would get heavy eventually, and Neville was concerned about moving the newly uprooted samples too much.

"You're very thorough, Nev. You really are good at this, aren't you?" Neville looked up, surprised. He had been taking careful notes and drawing sketches in a notebook.

"Um, I don't know. I guess, maybe. I just want to make sure that I have as complete a list of the environmental factors as possible. We'll need to try to duplicate them for each plant if we want to grow more, and grow them quickly." He looked back down at his book, not wanting to be rude but not used to being complimented about anything. Compliments from Charlie made him feel warm and oddly happy. "Thanks," he murmured as an afterthought.

They moved quickly and efficiently, winding their way ever deeper into the forest as the day continued. At one point Charlie stepped in front of Neville and cast a beam of purple light into the rustling foliage just up the path. At another place Neville placed his hand on Charlie's arm and pulled him back before stunning a particularly nasty vine that hung in their way. The items on the list gained check marks one by one.

Neville was content. The Gran voice attempted to tell him that he had no right to be content, tried to scold him from time to time, but he firmly pushed it aside. Life was for living when you had the chance.

Had Neville not known better he would have thought that Charlie was subtly flirting with him. He wondered if it was accidental. Did Charlie's hand linger just a bit too long when he helped me up after I collected that last sample? Did our fingers brush unnecessarily when I handed him the clippers? Am I projecting, imagining things, because I wish it was like that? Neville shook his head and returned to watching Charlie's back as he walked down the path in front of him. The view was nice.

When the sun was past the middle of the sky they stopped for lunch. Tramping through the forest was thirsty work and though Neville had brought water he was saving most of it for the plants. Charlie took off his cloak and spread it out over the ground before dropping his knapsack and flopping down beside it. The day had grown rather warm. Neville sat down, admiring, as he did so, the way Charlie's russet hair curled a bit damply on his forehead.

There were turkey sandwiches on thick brown bread, crisps and apples, and pumpkin juice that had been spelled to stay cold. For the first few minutes they ate silently, fresh air and manual labor having given them hearty appetites. After a while Neville was crunching an apple and studying his companion. Charlie leaned back a bit as he drained his container of juice. Neville watched the muscles in his throat contract, watched his Adam's apple bob, saw the tip of his tongue peek out and sweep across his upper lip and into the corner mouth as he chased a stray drop of juice. Neville's abdomen tightened and he found that he also had to swallow, looking away and concentrating on breathing normally.

They didn't linger long, didn't have time for a proper picnic. Neville reminded himself that there would be no reason for them to have a casual picnic in the first place. The two men cleaned up quickly not wanting to leave bits of food to draw unfriendly creatures. A hand brushed Neville's arm, fingers met when they reached for the same bit of wrapping, Charlie smiled over at Neville. When everything was packed Neville stood. Charlie met his eyes, smiled again and then stretched hugely. His T-shirt pulled tight across his chest and his neck arched as Charlie lifted his arms above his head and proceeded to crack his back. He then stood with cat-like grace before leaning over to retrieve his cloak.

Neville's mouth opened slightly before he closed it with a snap. He knows I'm watching him. He's doing this on purpose. The Gran voice reappeared, Don't be stupid Neville. Fairy tales are for children.

Several hours later they found and harvested the final plant. Charlie had spotted the elusive Emantnalp near the roots of an enormous tree on their way back to the shielded area.

"Brilliant Charlie! I never would have seen this." Neville handed the carefully packaged live sample to his partner and then pushed his sweaty hair out of his face.

"Well, occasionally all that practice I had looking for the snitch comes in handy. Lucky for us the plant was gold, isn't it?" Charlie chuckled as he stepped back and gave Neville room to stand. "You have some dirt just under your eye Nev, and over your cheek." Charlie smiled at him in a way that made Neville's stomach flutter.

Wiping his hand inelegantly on the leg of his trousers, Neville reached up to scrub at his face. "Get it?"

Charlie shook his head. "More to the left, and up a bit."

Neville tried again.

Charlie turned very deliberately, walked a couple of paces and set the plant down. Then he returned to where Neville stood, still brushing ineffectually at his face. "Let me."

Neville's eyes widened as Charlie moved toward him, stopping very close. Too close. Neville watched one thick-fingered hand move toward his face. Charlie brushed his thumb ever so slowly across Neville's cheek, under his eye, back across his cheek again. His fingers splayed out over Neville's jaw, coming to rest on his neck. Charlie was not looking at Neville's skin. He was looking at his mouth. The other hand came up and lightly cupped Neville's jaw. Neville let his eyes slide closed when Charlie's thumb ran smoothly over his lips. He opened his mouth slightly, sucking in air like a drowning man.

Time stood still. Neville's heart raced, thudding hard against his ribs. Nothing moved. There was no sound. Neville could feel a soft breeze in his hair, and Charlie's hands; hands that sent tingling warmth flooding through him. Still nothing moved. Neville opened his eyes at last and found himself staring into determined blue. The blue darkened, even as he watched. Charlie pursed his lips, his hands pressed just a bit harder against Neville's suddenly sensitive skin, and he began to move forward.

It took an hour and only an instant. Charlie moved very slowly, eyes locked with Neville's, never wavering. Neville knew that his permission was being asked without words. Neville could have stepped back, had plenty of time to turn his head or speak or break the hold Charlie had on him. He did none of those things. The last thing he wanted was to step away. Neville's eyes slid shut again just as Charlie's lips met his own.

Neville stood absolutely still, rooted to the spot like the trees that surrounded him. He dared not move lest the spell be broken. Charlie's tongue ran over his lips, before sucking Neville's bottom lip in between his own. Charlie's hands moved slightly, his fingers slipping into Neville's hair and using their leverage to position his face. The tongue was back, coaxing Neville to open, to respond, to give in. Neville groaned when Charlie took that last half-step forward and their bodies touched, chest to thigh.

The groan allowed Charlie entrance and his tongue took possession of Neville's mouth, mapping and tasting and plundering. Neville moved suddenly, wrapping his arms around Charlie as much to keep his feet as to draw the redhead closer. The kiss consumed him. Neville brought his own tongue up to dance with Charlie's, pressed his own lips against that luscious mouth. The world spun, blood rushed up to Neville's head, pounding in his ears before heading southward again with a speed that shocked him.

Surprised and slightly mortified by his own reaction Neville tried to step back, to move his lower body away. Charlie made a low sound in his throat and ran one of his hands down Neville's back, molding him against him. He tore his mouth away. "I want to know how this makes you feel, Nev. Merlin, you taste like... like the forest. Wild and dark but innocent somehow..." The words were punctuated with shallow kisses - on the corner of his mouth, his jawline, up the side of his cheek, just behind his ear.

Neville was shaking when Charlie took his lips again. This time he kissed him back, tasted him tentatively. Charlie opened his lips immediately and sucked. Charlie tasted like... he tasted like.... Neville was fast losing the ability to think coherently so he gave the whole idea up as unimportant and leaned into the kiss.

This was the single most amazing thing that had ever happened to him. Neville moved slightly, shifted his weight just a bit and then Charlie's hand was cupping a different kind of cheek, pressing him impossibly close. Neville could feel Charlie everywhere they met, the muscles in his chest, the strength of his arms, the answering hardness pressed against his hip. If Neville shifted just a bit, moved to the balls of his feet....

An owl hooted directly above them and they both jumped, breaking the kiss. Neville's hands flew away but Charlie did not let him go. Instead he continued to hold Neville, although he moved his hands from where they had been to rest at the small of his back instead. He looked around, noted the gathering dusk and leaned back in to kiss Neville quickly. "I suppose that was our cue. We really don't want to be here after dark." He kissed Neville again.

Neville, who had entirely lost the ability to use words, let alone form sentences, merely nodded.

Charlie kissed Neville's nose, his forehead, his lips one more time. "I'm not that eager to leave now, for some reason. Pity." He gave Neville a wry smile, stepped back and picked up the plant and the bags they had set aside. "Shall we?" He grabbed Neville's hand, pulling him quickly towards the path, and they set off back to the shield area. Back to retrieve the valuable specimens. Back to reality.