How to Forget

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Neville twitched, and in his semi-conscious state noted that the noises were either extremely heavy woodpeckers or footsteps.

Creak-

No need to worry. It was just his Gran checking in that he hadn't been smothered to death by his pillow.

Thump. Thump.

...

Frowning slightly, Neville rolled away from where the steps had sounded- his Gran was taking an awful long time to check on him. He felt himself jostled slightly as she sat on the bed, and wondered that he could not hear the strained creaking of her joints in the silence of the room.

Suddenly there was hot breath against his mouth, followed by a gentle brush of lips and Neville sat up wide-eyed, nearly knocking into the figure poised above him. That was not his Gran.

Harry Potter grinned brilliantly back at him.

----------

His heels clicked smartly on the marble floor. Every step timed perfectly in precision with his brisk pace, his steady gait drew eyes inevitably up from his polished shoes to his pressed slacks, to his collared shirt, dark blazer, and finally up to his attractive face.

Edmund Finley prided himself on keeping an immaculate appearance, no matter the situation. He supposed he could be considered rather vain in that regard, but the chase was so much more enjoyable when his prey thought he could be trusted, as they always did with any pleasant smile and pretty face.

With a final click of his heels on the stone, he gave an award-winning smile to the secretary gazing at him with wide eyes.

"Ah, Finley here to see Minister Fudge. 10 o'clock appointment, I believe?"

The woman blushed and waved him in. "He's expecting you, Mr. Finley. Go right in."

He beamed again in response and strode through the doors adjacent. Seeing the man behind the desk stand in greeting, he extended his hand.

"Why, Minister Fudge. So good to finally meet you."

----------

"What the bloody hell was that for?!"

Harry-something's eyes crinkled, head dipping down for another kiss. "Can't you tell, Nev? Merlin, I've missed you-"

Neville squeaked in indignation and sought in vain to escape the questing lips, the result being a sort of half lunge/wiggle to the right and against a white-plaster wall. He could feel his elbow bang painfully, but he couldn't bring himself to regret the action as the descending mouth only managed to catch the tip of his ear.

"I don't know who you are!" Neville hissed frantically. "Get off! Let me go! No more of that- mmph!"

Neville learned the hard way never to make his escape toward a wall. Harry learned how enjoyable it was to pin Neville against said wall and do rather sloppy things to him with his lips, teeth, and tongue.

Thump. Thump. ThumpThumpThump-

Oh good, Neville thought distractedly. Here comes the cavalry.

Creak-

"Oi- Weirdo! Mum says to drag your arse down to- ARGH! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! DAD! COME QUICK!"

Harry pulled away reluctantly, wiping his mouth while glaring resentfully at Dudley. "Now why'd you go and do that, you lump?"

The portly boy was red in the face- from embarrassment or anger, Neville couldn't tell. "Wait 'till Dad finds out- you'll get yours then, queer."

"You know, Dudders," Harry began conversationally, casually reaching toward the drawer of his nightstand. "I turned 17 last week- you know what that means, don't you?"

Apparently he did, as the color rapidly fled from the skin that made up his cheeks. "You wouldn't dare..."

Harry grinned. "Been missing that tail of yours much?"

Dudley groaned in fear and backpedaled out of the room as quickly as he could, slamming the door behind him. With a wall separating them, Neville could only barely hear the hefty boy making excuses of stubbing his toe to his father. Harry simply spared a chuckle, reaching down to stroke Neville's cheek again. Neville wished he would pass out again.

Luckily, a knock came at the door, and Harry, frowning at the intrusion, climbed off of the bed and answered it. The purple man from before blinked past Harry at him, and scowled.

"Not one of your weird groupies again? I won't deal with this in my home! Get him out! Out!"

Neville gave a happy sigh- Finally...

"No."

Huh?

The purple man seemed to echo his thoughts. "What do you mean, boy?!"

Harry stared resolutely back. "He fainted on the street earlier. He needs his rest. He'll stay the night, at least."

What?! 'Stay the night'? No, I won't!

Again, the purple man concurred: "THE HELL HE WILL!"

Harry twitched. "Yes, he will."

Neville stirred on the bed. "Now wait just a minute...I don't think-"

"STAY OUT OF THIS!" Neville huffed angrily- of all the nerve!

"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU TO DECIDE WHO STAYS, BOY?!"

"Remember Aunt Marge, Uncle Vernon."

The purple man- Uncle Vernon, apparently- deflated instantly. "I can't wait for you to be out of this house for good."

"Just a month left now. You can make it."

Vernon calmed down, his face bleeding from purple to the slightly more normal color of dark mauve. "He can stay. But in your room! I don't want to see him."

"Of course."

The man swept out of the room and Neville suddenly realized that he had lost his only ally. His only chance at escape... he scrambled for the door, hoping to follow after him.

"Now where do you think you're going?"

Bugger.

Neville squirmed awkwardly in his position being held against the bed. "U-um...nowhere?"

"That's what I thought."