Disclaimer: I own very little.
A/N: Is this soon enough?
Illusions
Potions Stink
Draco gazed down into the potion bubbling in their cauldron. The Potions lesson was now halfway through, and this far their potion was perfect. Of course, he had never expected it to be anything else.
He glanced at Neville and allowed himself a small smirk. The Gryffindor wasn't perhaps as good as he was, but he was now definitely good enough to pass the course. In fact, he felt certain that Neville was even better than some of their classmates -- whenever Severus wasn't scaring him, that was. Of course the Gryffindor could never surpass Granger, for example -- much as he hated to admit it, the annoying know-it-all truly knew how to do her potions. However, Neville would be no more melt cauldrons, that much he knew. Especially as Draco was keeping him in line.
Sighing quietly, he sent a tiny glare towards his Godfather. Once Severus realized how far Neville had got, he would no doubt tell them to stop the tutoring, thinking that it was a great relief to Draco. In reality, he dreaded the day it would happen. Although he could never express his attraction, at least he could watch Neville. And besides, he could actually talk with Neville, about things he had never talked to anyone about. Nobody else knew how much he wanted to be rid of his name, how much his father was controlling his life, and how much wished he had the courage to simply tell his father to fuck off and do things his own way. Had he been a Gryffindor, he might have done that. However, he was a Slytherin, a survivor instead of a fighter. Not daring to defy his father, he would simply have to suffer -- and wait. One day, his father would be no more. And, considering the war that was going on, that day might come soon.
He was startled out of his thoughts as something landed into the cauldron, splashing the potion. What was that? There was nothing they were supposed to add to the potion at this stage!
"Watch out!" he heard somebody -- Neville, a small part of his mind managed to figure out -- shouting. However, by the time the words had registered, it was already too late. The potion in the cauldron sizzled and bubbled, then suddenly exploded all over.
Something hit him on the chest, forcing him down onto the floor. Somebody was lying on top of him, shielding him from the damage, he realized, stunned. Who would ever leave themselves vulnerable like that only to protect him?
The screams, shouts and other sounds of general chaos lessened a bit, and he figured the worst danger was already over. "Hey, get off me," he muttered, trying to free himself of the weight of another body atop his. "Didn't you hear? I can't move!"
There was no response. Then, however, the weight was lifted, and he staggered to his feet. Turning around, he discovered to his great horror that the one who had shielded him was Neville. This horrified him because Neville hadn't got up on his own. Instead, he was being held up by a couple of very shocked students. Hanging limply in the grasp of his classmates, Neville was quite clearly unconscious.
Draco got even more distressed as he realized that there was blood dripping to the floor from the immobile form. There weren't any wounds visible as far as he could see, but then Neville had taken the damage to his back. Their cauldron was now mere pieces -- well, what was left of it, anyway. The rest of it was all around the room, sunk into various parts of ceiling, walls, furniture, and students.
"Everybody wounded to the Hospital Wing right away!" barked Severus sternly. "Potter, Granger -- as you apparently think Longbottom is worth your attention, you'll take him to the Hospital Wing. Everybody who doesn't have to go to get themselves healed, clean the classroom. The lesson is over for today."
Draco carefully made to join the students heading towards the Hospital Wing. He'd got away with mostly a fright, but he wanted to know what had happened to Neville. However, he froze as he heard his Godfather saying, "Mister Malfoy, into my office. Right away."
Slightly unsure, he made his way to Severus' office. He was fairly certain he knew what the teacher wanted to discuss. However, he wasn't entirely sure he understood what had happened himself. How could he then explain it to somebody else?
Unfortunately, an explanation was exactly what Severus expected. "What exactly was that?" he asked. "I thought you were good enough a student to be able to prevent Longbottom from making any mistakes bad enough to cause this kind of an accident. What went wrong?"
"It wasn't Neville's fault," Draco sighed. At least that he was sure about. "I kept an eye on him all the time, and he didn't do anything wrong. All I know is that I saw something landing into the potion -- somebody must have thrown something there. Then I heard Neville's warning, and the next thing I know, I'm pressed against the floor and everybody is screaming. That's all I know. It wasn't Neville's fault, though, that I'm sure about."
"So it wasn't Neville's fault," Severus echoed calmly. "And since when have Mister Longbottom and you been in such good terms? I don't recall you ever calling him by his first name before."
Draco bit his tongue. In his distress he'd indeed let the name slip out. This wasn't good, this wasn't good at all. Thankfully, any good Slytherin could think fairly quickly on their feet if need be.
"It's easier," he replied, shrugging. "I've had to call out his name so many times during the tutoring sessions that I've moved to using his first name just to save some time. If I had to shout 'Mister Longbottom' or something like that every time I want to tell him off, I wouldn't have time for anything else."
"An excellent attempt at lying, I must say," Severus said calmly. "However, you're badly mistaken if you think you can fool me. So, you'd better tell the truth."
Draco sighed. "We've been calling each other by first names for ages now, okay?" he said. "I've just tried to keep it in secret because we both have a life outside the tutoring sessions."
The Potions Professor raised an eyebrow. "I see."
And, however much Draco nervously waited, he didn't say anything else.
The Gryffindors gathered around Neville's bed sighed in relief as they saw him opening his eyes. "Are you okay?" asked Harry worriedly. "Your back seemed really bad."
"It feels like that, too," muttered Neville. He flushed a bit as he realized that not only was he the centre of attention, but his body was also bare from the waist up. Well, at least it was that if one could call bare something that was covered with bandages.
"You'd better not even try to move," Hermione said sternly. "Madam Pomfrey had to pick at least a dozen shards of the cauldron from your back. It needs time to heal."
Although he heard this piece of advice, Neville didn't reply. Instead, he turned to look at Seamus. "What exactly was that?" he asked sharply. "I saw you throwing something into the cauldron."
The other boy flushed in shame. "Look, I'm really sorry," he muttered. "I never expected it to cause such a big explosion. I, well -- I just thought that if there was an explosion in your cauldron, Snape might think that the tutoring isn't doing any good. Then you'd be free from Malfoy."
"Point one: Never, ever cause an accident on purpose," Neville said, his usual shyness forgotten as anger -- almost rage -- raised its head within him. "You can never foresee the exact results. Not only did you get me here, but also a lot of other students. What if somebody had been damaged permanently? Or even died? Good prank, Seamus, everybody's laughing. And you should have known that it'd cause an explosion big enough to shatter the cauldron, too. You would have known had you read the recipe properly. The concoction is extremely sensitive to any alien ingredients, especially when it's being heated!"
Everybody was looking at him, stunned. They were having a hard time believing that he could be talking so angrily. However, Neville simply went on.
"Point two: I don't want to be free from Malfoy. Sure, he's annoying, he's nasty, and he hates me." And he makes people lie, too. "However, if there is one thing he is good at, it's teaching. I've learnt a lot during those tutoring sessions. Just recently I thought that I might by now be able to brew a potion all by myself without melting or blowing up the cauldron! And what do you do? Decide to put my cauldron into pieces to stop me from learning more! If you get half of the class into the Hospital Wing as a side effect, well, that's only better, isn't it? At least then Professor Snape will never even consider that I might be capable of passing! Thanks a lot, Seamus! If Professor Snape decides to stop the tutoring lessons as a result of this, I'll make sure he knows who exactly caused this!"
Now, Seamus paled. It was all too easy to imagine how Professor Snape would treat him if he found out the truth. A whole year of detentions didn't seem very improbable in that scenario.
"Um... Why'd you jump over Malfoy like that, anyway?" Harry asked after a moment of silence. "You were far enough from the cauldron to get to safety yourself!"
"He wasn't, though," Neville said. "As close as he was, he may have actually died. However much of a bastard he is, he doesn't deserve to die. When I pulled him down, both of us were far enough to survive."
Again, there was a moment of silence. Then Hermione said, "You know, Neville, at times there are moments when I think you are more of a Gryffindor than the rest of us combined."
Neville didn't say anything at this. He just blushed.
Draco held his breath. Eavesdropping on a Gryffindor conversation had provided him with the information that Neville was still in the Hospital Wing. Thus he was now sneaking there, using his best notice-me-not charm and desperately hoping nobody would come in.
It was quiet and dark in the room as he sneaked inside. Most of the beds were empty. The third one from the door, however, was occupied by a familiar form. Making sure not to make any noise, Draco crept nearer.
Neville was asleep on his stomach. The reason for this position was clear; his whole back was covered with bandages. Swallowing, Draco wondered what his back looked like beneath those bandages. Would there be scars?
Carefully he made his way to the other end of the bed. Kneeling down, he looked closely at Neville's sleeping face. The Gryffindor looked very peaceful as he slept.
Why had Neville done that? He could just as well have taken cover and let Draco handle the trouble himself. Instead, he had flung himself between the Slytherin and the danger. It was because of Draco that there now were bandages over his back. Without him nothing would have happened to Neville.
Draco felt awful. The thought of Neville getting hurt made him uncomfortable. The thought of Neville getting hurt because of him was nauseating. He wasn't worth that!
What if the explosion had killed Neville? It had been bad, Draco knew that much. How could he have lived on, knowing he had been the cause of Neville's death? That the other boy had sacrificed himself for him?
"Stupid, stupid Gryffindor," he whispered, angrily wiping away the tear that tried to creep over his cheek. "Idiotic, brave Gryffindor. You would never make it in Slytherin."
"Just a few days ago, you said otherwise," came the response. Neville opened his eyes and looked Draco in the eye.
Startled, Draco drew away, then carefully leant closer again. "You're an idiot, you know," he said quietly. "Why did you do that? You could have got killed! I'm not worth that!"
Neville blinked as though he didn't understand the question. "You might have got hurt," he said like it had been the most obvious thing in the world. "I couldn't let that happen, so the best way of action I could think of was knocking you down."
"Did you ever pay a single thought to what would happen to yourself?" Draco hissed. "Did you even consider the possibility that you might get hurt?"
"No, I didn't," Neville said, his expression and voice both perfectly honest. "I didn't have the time to think about such things. The only thought I had was that you were in danger."
For a moment, Draco simply watched the other's open face. Then he allowed his expression to soften into a small smile. "You are an idiot," he said, affection creeping into his voice. "But then again, you're a Gryffindor, so that's probably required."
"Well, it's not exactly necessary, but it helps a lot." Neville grinned, a cheerful, carefree grin that bore no mark of the fact that he'd had his back torn open that day. And, suddenly, Draco simply couldn't hold himself back any longer.
Neville's lips were soft and warm. They tasted of healing potions, chocolate, and surprise. They were just as perfect as Draco had always imagined they would be.
When the reality of what he was doing kicked in, he drew back, ashamed. "I'm -- I'm sorry," he muttered. "I shouldn't have -- I don't know what I was thinking." A blush making its way onto his face, he started to turn away. However, a hand on his shoulder stopped him.
He turned to face Neville again, expecting to see disgust on the other boy's face. To his surprise, however, the only emotions he could read in the other's gaze were surprise and... happiness? And, momentarily, a flicker of something that seemed like decision and felt somehow very Gryffindor.
He didn't have the time to analyse it any further, though. The hand on his shoulder moved to his neck, drawing him nearer. And suddenly, those warm and soft lips were pressed against his.
Draco had often hoped that one day Lady Luck might smile down on him. However, he had never expected it to happen when he was in the Hospital Wing in the middle of night, kneeling beside a Gryffindor's bed.
Not that he minded, of course.
Next chapter:
Somebody has a secret.