The Neville Affair
(The Real Malfoy Files)
Part 1 - The Bathroom
By Krissy and Libertine
He came upon Neville Longbottom in an abandoned lavatory, a few days after the beginning of his sixth term at Hogwarts. Came being the operative word on this occasion, in the most literal and sticky sense. It was an accident, of course - most things of this nature were - but this certainly didn't make the event any less embarrassing for either of them.
Draco had discovered the bathroom three years previously. While dawdling on his way to potions class, quite aware that Snape would never reprimand his favourite student for being late, Draco had accidentally taken a wrong turning. His mind was focussed on other things - dinner, the nice girl he'd met during his summer holidays in Ibiza, the awesome new flying motor bike he knew his father would be buying him for Christmas - and he didn't notice that he'd gone right down the corridor instead of left until he came to a dead end.
Annoyed at himself, he was about to retrace his steps, when he spotted a small door lodged in the wall beside him. Curious as any feline, Draco pulled experimentally at the handle, and found to his delight that it was unlocked. He tugged it open, and peered in.
It smelt musty and disused - he was probably the first person to enter the place for years, maybe even decades. Keening through the gloom, he saw the outline of cubicles, and the curved, tiled wall of a urinal.
Just a toilet, he thought dismissively, and was about to close the door when an idea occured to him. Living in the close company of six other boys, with only the meagre curtains of his bed offering any semblance of privacy, meant that Draco's ‘private time’ - (his favourite terms with which to couch that rather base activity which his father assured him would turn him blind before he was twenty) - was limited to the half hour or so he could steal if he left the dining room before his Slytherin companions.
Of course, there were the normal bathrooms, but Draco felt slightly uncomfortable at the thought that somebody might walk in and hear him. Especially if that somebody was one of his Gryffindor adversaries. Especially if that somebody was squint-eyed git Harry Potter, or his equally ignorant red-haired side-kick. The various scenarios which could stem from such an inopportune meeting would no doubt reflect badly on the Malfoy name.
But here, it seemed, was the perfect room to relieve any tensions a teenage boy might have. Too far from the main parts of the school for anyone to mistakenly venture in, and certainly too far for anyone to eavesdrop.. Draco grinned.
That night, after dinner, he returned to the bathroom to give the place a fitting opening ceremony. And ever after that, on a bi-weekly basis, Draco treated himself to a little harmless, clandestine fun in his newly marked out territory. It was just part of growing up, really, as he understood it - and he was sixteen, now, wasn't he? It was quite, quite, normal..
Then Neville Longbottom showed up unexpectedly one terrible evening and everything went to hell.
It was technically Crabbe and Goyle's fault. They'd found Neville alone, sitting morosely on the steps leading to the Gryffindor common room - the kid had obviously forgotten the password yet again. And they'd thought - simpletons that they both were - that it would be a really fun idea to chase Neville half way round the school.
Puffing along as fast as he could, Neville jittered through the corridors, occasionally banging his flailing arms and knees against pieces of furniture and walls. Behind him, the bullies pounded along relentlessly - though thankfully it appeared they were as good at long distance running as Neville was. With a stitch aching in his side, Neville turned abruptly down a corner, his eyes searching for any escape route. Even a closet would be good - somewhere he could hide until the Slytherins tired of looking for him and went off to pull the wings of flies, or whatever it was that they did when they weren't teasing people smaller and weaker than they were.
Behind him he heard shouts, and Crabbe and Goyle beginning to argue - with each other? With someone else? Neville didn't know, and he wasn't inclined to hang around and find out. He spotted a small door in the wall, and tugged roughly it open. The momentum of his lunge for safety, however, caused him to trip over his own feet. Letting out a helpless wail, Neville slid six feet along the grimey tiles on his knees, and collided with a urinal wall.
Blinking back tears of pain, Neville stared blearily around him. He was in a toilet, he guessed. There were the cubicles, there were the sinks, and there were..
And there were someone's bare legs, right infront of him, the person's trousuers hanging in shackles about their ankles, all too obviously caught red-handed in the heat of the act..
Neville gulped, thickly. He looked up.
Draco did possibly the worst thing he could have done in these circumstances.
"Was that Neville I just saw you chasing?" Hermione snapped. "You nasty little boys. You know, I'm a prefect. You'll be getting into a lot of trouble for this."
Crabbe and Goyle exchanged looks. Behind Hermione, Ron and Harry pulled faces at each other. These days, having to put up with Hermione-the-prefect was almost as bad as dealing with Percy.
"You can be certain that Professor McGonnagal will find out about this," Hermione continued. "I expect you'll lose at least five house points for teasing the poor kid. Have you no shame?"
The Slytherins shrugged. They were fairly sure they didn't have any shame; if they had, Draco would have mentioned it to them by now.
"Ron, Harry," said Hermione. "Can you go make sure Neville's all right?"
"Yessss, masssster," said Ron, affecting a passable Igor imitation. He hunched his back, and lurched into Harry, grinning. Harry took his cue from Ron, and tilted his head askew, letting his mouth go slack. "Your wisssh is ourrr command, massster," he slurred.
"Brainsssss," Ron added, empathically. He limped towards Crabbe and Goyle, and then seemed to think better of it. "..no brainnnsss there," he told Harry, in a conspiratoral hiss.
"You both are hopeless," said Hermione, unimpressed by their theatrics. She shook her head, pressing a hand to her temples. "I'll have to come with you. And don't either of you get any ideas about running off," she told the Slytherins, sharply. "You're coming with us. I want you to apologise to Neville."
"Uh," said Crabbe. He looked at Goyle, creasing his simian brow as he tried to work out what to do. The situation had become rather too complex for him to handle.
"Ha ha," said Goyle, unhelpfully.
Hermione glared at them. "Did you hear me?" she growled.
"Yesssss, massster," said Harry. "We hearssss.. brainssss."
The five of them started off down the corridor, the two Igor twins lurching ahead, occasionally bumping into each other and falling over.
"What the fuck are you doing in my bathroom, you fat little shit?"
"You.. you.." It wasn't exactly a squeak, but Neville was quaking with fear. Draco Malfoy had just.. Neville calmed himself enough not to burst into nervous tears, and sucked in a breath as the implications of what had just happened resurfaced.
"The fucking nerve of you. Can't you Gryffindors keep your prying little hands out of anything? This is my fucking bathroom. Mine. I want you out of here, right now, Longbottom."
Neville opened his mouth to say something, but only a low moan would come out, which he quickly clamped his lips shut at. He was not going to make a fool of himself in front of Draco, not again. Speaking again, he was glad some kind of normal sentence came out, even if it was rather.. obvious.
"You.. you came in my eyes.."
"Yes. Yes, I did. And it's your goddam fault for being in here in the first place," Draco snapped. But he relented slightly, noticing Neville had screwed up his face, as if he were on the verge of tears. "Look," he said, coldly. "There are sinks in here. Go wash your face, and then get out. And if you tell a soul about this.. well, I think you know exactly what will happen to you.."
"You came in my eyes," Neville wailed.
"I think we've been over that, Longbottom," said Draco. He was feeling beyond irritated now. Neville was repeating himself and just.. sitting there. Not doing a bloody thing. And he looked like he was going to cry. Draco did not want to deal with some blubbering idiot. But really, was that different from normal days? No, but still.
"..it's on my robe, too.." Neville's eyes skittered to gaze at the black robe, sucking in a breath at how.. well, messy it was. He could tell it was going to take some help to clean it, and how would he explain that? Neville began to check the rest of him as Draco spoke again.
"So clean your robe."
"And my hair.." Neville was sounding vaguely impressed, by this stage. "And my hands. And.."
"It's been a long fucking week, okay?" Draco gripped Neville by the shoulders, attempting to pull the boy to his feet - but Neville, while smaller, outweighed Draco by more than a few pounds. The muscles in Draco's thin arms bunched and pulled to no avail. Still shackled by the legs of his trousuers, Draco stumbled slightly, and his bare hip banged against Neville's forehead.
Neville moaned, steadying himself with his hands on Draco's thighs.
At this point, the door burst open.
The five students gaped at the unlucky duo, completely speechless. During the unpleasant silence, Draco let go of Neville's shoulders, slowly. His cheeks, he knew, had begun to turn scarlet. Still on his knees, Neville absently sucked his fingers clean, and wrinkled his nose at the taste.
"Um," said Draco. For once in his life, Draco didn't know how to explain this. It did look rather.. well, obvious what had happened, even if it really hadn't happened. Somehow he knew he wouldn't be able to pass it off as an "accident." They had evidence right there, even if they couldn't see anything: the smell, the look on Neville's face...
"Okay," said Draco. It really wasn't how it seemed. The bloody idiot came in here, and... The words died before they had chance to pass his lips. Was it that difficult to explain? Maybe not to a normal person, but these were Gryffindors and his goons.. Hey, wait a second. What were they doing here anyway?
Ron gagged, covering his mouth with his hand; he looked as if was about to be sick. Harry took off his glasses, rubbed them feverishly, and put them back on again. Crabbe and Goyle were simply standing there, glaze-eyed, unable to believe what they were seeing.
"Heh," said Draco. He gave up as he watched their reactions. If it wasn't himself and... Longbottom, he'd have found their reactions funny. Humorous. Almost.
Hermione was the first to speak.
"What on earth is going on in here?" she squeaked, her voice taking on a very shrill pitch.
"Um," said Draco. He still wasn't quite sure himself. "Really. I can explain everything.."
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