Let it not be said that Seamus Finnigan was not open minded.
Sure, it may have looked that way to some in the past, but that was only because his first loyalty was always going to be to the people he'd known the longest– and no offense to Harry, but he did look a nutter fifth year. Everyone thought so.
Seamus, however, proved himself quite fit for the fight come seventh year. He was Neville's second in command and rather chuffed to find that he'd not lacked for birds since. A female magnet. He wasn't, after all, a bad looking bloke. He trained. He was funny. Witty. An excellent shag. He had to fight them off.
Not really. He usually let them have their way, actually.
Since then he'd been working as an Auror, sharing a flat with Dean. Well, Dean and Hannah, to be exact. She seemed to be over all the time. It was one thing when it was usually a different bird every week. No chance to get into a routine, and novelty is always good, but Dean had been seeing Hannah for months now, and it seemed like Wednesday evenings were the only time Seamus saw Dean by himself anymore. It was a shame, really. Women were such a drain of a bloke's energy.
Harry had been married to Ginny for a couple of years now, and Ron was engaged to Hermione, but he'd honestly never paid much attention to how well Neville pulled. Seamus supposed that's why what ultimately happened turned out to be a bit of a surprise. Hell, no one in their right mind would have guessed it. Well. Dean, maybe.
Every Wednesday the blokes would meet up at the Leaky. Seamus, Dean, Ron, Harry and Neville. Sometimes former D.A. people would happen by and join them. Once, even Draco Bloody Malfoy had a drink with them, but that's another story entirely.
So one February evening they were all sitting around having a pint, and Neville was telling them about his upcoming trip to Norway with Luna. Not recreational, as it happened, though they did tease him a lot about his business partner. Except Dean, for some reason. Neville kept studying Herbology after Hogwarts, and he and Luna had a nice little arrangement. She'd scout new exotic plants and he'd cultivate them. She got a tip on a rare breed of flesh eating tree that had gender, just outside Oslo. Since it was rather dangerous, Neville thought it best to go with her that trip.
"So what it boils down to is that I need someone to take care of Aggie for me for a couple of weeks starting Saturday, and the other plants as well. Anyone interested?"
Seamus piped up immediately. The idea of a place to himself for a couple of weeks was too good to resist, and Mimbletonias only needed to be sung to once a day. He could manage that.
"I'll take care of her for ya, Nev. But don't be too upset when she prefers me to you," he said with a wink.
"Yes, well, who wouldn't?" Neville replied easily.
Seamus felt his cheeks burn slightly for some reason, and returned, "Dean, for one. S'always with Abbott-"
"Her name's Hannah, Seamus," Dean interjected.
"-and I'd like the privacy. I haven't gotten to walk around starkers in years."
Neville flushed. "You plan to walk around my flat starkers?"
"Well yeah! Don't tell me you've never done it? Merlin, Nev, you're missing out. Fresh air around your bits, getting some old fashioned circulation in the privacy of your own home? I'd be naked all the time if I lived in your flat."
Neville drained his pint quickly, which was something considering that it was almost completely full. He practically knocked his chair over in his haste to get up, clutching his jacket in front of him, and nodded to everyone.
"I'll see you blokes in a few weeks. Saturday morning around 8, Seamus, alright? Thanks, mate."
As he stumbled away, Harry and Dean exchanged a look across the table.
"Did I say something?"
"Nah," Ron piped in. "You know Neville. Looks like your bits will be getting some air then. If he leaves you homebrew, I want you to tell Hermione that you need my help pruning something one evening, yeah?"
Seamus nodded, and put Neville out of his mind for the rest of the evening.
On Saturday morning, Seamus arrived at Neville's bright and early.
"I really can't thank you enough for doing this," said Neville.
Seamus smiled back. "It's nothing, really. You're doing me a favor, if you want to know the truth."
"How so?" asked Neville, grinning. "Free beer notwithstanding."
"I won't have to eat Hannah food for two whole weeks. Thinks she's a feckin' gourmet, that one. It's tripe. I get to ignore your kitchen and eat takeaway. I'm happy," Seamus replied, enthusiastically.
Neville's expression changed suddenly, and he looked rather pleased with himself, really.
"Well actually, I've already taken care of some of that, too. For the next two weeks you get to order whatever strikes your fancy from the Leaky and Patil's. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. They'll floo it over."
Seamus was flabbergasted, to say the least. He nodded feebly and followed Neville as he walked into the sitting room.
"And there are 3 different kinds of beer in the closet. Don't open it, because I've got it set to cellar temperature and I'd have to redo the charm if you do. There's a pale ale with juniper, a porter that's made with Merlin era yeast that was found on a Saxon ship, and a Belgian-style farmhouse ale that will knock you over if you drink too much of it, so be careful there. If you put your pint glass on any of the tables in the flat and say which one you want it will refill for you. Key is, you have to be able to say it. If you can't then you've been cut off. Works fairly well for me. Work for you?"
"Neville," Seamus managed after picking his jaw back up. "We should probably just run away together, yeah?"
Neville blushed, which Seamus was surprised to find ...cute. His train of thought was interrupted when Neville stuttered out, "I-I-I should probably show you the plants."
After he'd been properly introduced to Aggie and Kitty, a somewhat threatening looking Fanged Geranium, and he'd been talked through the care of all the house plants, Seamus looked around.
"Nev, where's the bedroom?" Seamus raised his eyebrows questioningly.
"Down the hall this way," he replied.
Seamus picked up his duffel, slung it over his shoulder and followed Neville. He was surprised to walk into a rather impressive modern room. The walls were a deep green, calm and fresh. The sort of color that one could fall asleep and happily wake up to. There was a large bed with comfortable looking white linens in the middle of the wall. The chests and tables were painted in a shiny toffee-colored lacquer, and there were mirrored rectangular candle sconces along the walls. What was most impressive was the wall across from the bed. An angular creamy stone hearth with a mirrored wall above was flanked by two enormous bookcases that held what must have been hundreds of books. A shaggy rug and pillows were in front of it.
"Someone likes to read," remarked Seamus.
He glanced at the books and back to Seamus.
"It's not as though I go out much, is it? Bloke's got to have something to do." Seamus's eyes locked with Neville's. For some reason he felt his stomach flip flop, but for the life of him he couldn't understand why. His breakfast had gone down just fine, after all.
He thought about their conversation later on as he wandered about the flat, naked, save his socks.
As he looked around, he realized that this was where Neville spent most of his time. Here, in this flat. Laying around on the couch, reading some book on Herbology with a serious look on his face. Brewing beer in an enormous kettle in the kitchen. Tending to the plants in the sitting room. Scratching his bum as he walked down the hallway.
Seamus was on his fourth pint of ale as he wandered into the bedroom, ready to perhaps get dressed in some pyjamas and give up for the night. He pulled them out of his duffel and eyed them. The soft, warm flannel was appealing, but the warming charms Neville had on his flat made them unnecessary, in Seamus's opinion. He put them back and flopped back onto the bed. There was something soothing about the smell of the linens. Sort of earthy and warm. He wondered idly if Neville charmed them to be relaxing. He forced himself to get up and have a better look around. He picked his bag up and brought it to closet. As he opened it, that same smell wafted out. Seamus inhaled deeply and groaned happily. He loved this smell! It was nice and strangely familiar and–
Seamus looked down at his erection with faint surprise.
Seamus continued to work, sleep and eat curries until the following weekend. It was Saturday afternoon that he made a disconcerting discovery.
He was drinking again, this time the farmhouse ale that Neville had warned him about. Seamus thought it was lovely. It was ...quaffable. He was enjoying it immensely. After he'd sung a strange little song to Aggie about a hag who fell in love with an elf, he decided to raid Neville's bookshelves. He conjured a fire and began to peruse the shelves.
The left hand case was completely devoted to Herbology. There must have been have been at least a two hundred of them. The one on the right was full of Muggle paperback fiction. There seemed to be a little bit of everything. The bottom two rows were full of oversized art books. Aha! This was where Seamus and his beer needed to be. He knelt down on the floor and began to pull books off the shelves. The first one he opened was full of realistic paintings that depicted men in suits doing strange things with apples and household objects. Seamus shook his head. He continued to peruse, seeing paintings of ships at sea, farm animals, Japanese woodcuts, and some photographs involving people dressed in snack food and naked women walking on eggshells. Seamus was enthralled.
He picked up another and read the title. Men Together Today was written across the spine, and the dust jacket was flat black with nothing on it. Seamus opened it to the middle. There was a black and white photo of two men writhing together on twisted bedsheets. One of them had his hand wrapped around the other's... Seamus snapped it shut in surprise.
Neville had gay pornography.
Seamus felt sweat break out on his upper lip. Perhaps he was sitting too close to the fire. He took another gulp of beer and looked at the book again. He felt his cock twitch. There wouldn't really be any harm in looking, would there?
Neville had gay pornography.
He opened the book again and started from the beginning. One picture showed a beefy brown haired man standing right behind a bent over a sandy blond. Seamus gulped. Another had the same model's lips wrapped around the blond man's cock. The look of ecstasy on the blond's face made Seamus's pulse race. He continued to peruse and sip, and realized that it was rather hot next to the fire like this. He stood up and stripped off. Once presented with his stiffie, it only made sense to have the best wank of his life, to date. And if he happened to think of Neville's lips wrapped around his own cock as he came, well.
He could worry about that when he was sober.
Two things became painfully clear to Seamus after he'd managed to ingest some hangover potion.
First, Neville must be gay. How he'd never realized this was a mystery. Not that he'd ever given it any thought before. But now it occurred to him that Neville got hit on by women just as much as he did, and Neville always turned them away. Seamus had just chalked it up to being a gentleman.
Second, he'd wanked last night thinking of Neville.
This was not something that Seamus had ever considered before. Ever. Never ever. Well, not seriously, anyway. People had teased him and Dean from time to time over the years, but they'd done it to Harry and Ron as well, and if any two were closet cases it was them. Not Seamus and Dean. And he never expected in a million years to think about Neville that way.
Not that he wasn't an attractive bloke. Not at all. During seventh year he really came into his own running the D.A. He began to speak with a quiet authority that people found difficult to question even when they clearly wanted to. He made everyone who went into hiding with them feel safe, and acted with unexpected and sometimes ridiculous bravery while defending others. As a person, Seamus really respected Neville, and felt a real affection for him. He was a bit in awe of him, to be honest.
And physically, well. He lost most of that puppy fat he'd been carrying around. His hair had darkened up considerably since he'd first met him. He was at least a head taller and considerably bigger than Seamus, who was more sinewy and lean. He hauled a lot of dirt about at his greenhouse, did a lot of digging. He was left with a pleasantly round face and a rather muscular, if not slightly barrel-chested upper body. His blue eyes crinkled when he smiled. Strong legs and broad shoulders. His hands were probably rough and he already knew they were large–
Bugger. He had another stiffie. Seamus began to get a little bit nervous at that point, primarily because he was completely sober. And after his second wank imagining Neville's mouth on him, well, frantic became the only appropriate word to describe his state of mind.
"Dean. Dean, mate, I've gotta talk to ye RIGHT NOW!"
Seamus was on his knees, shouting with his head stuck through the Floo to his flat. Dean came racing out of his bedroom in his boxers. He'd clearly been in the middle of something, but Seamus couldn't give a fuck.
"Dean. Have you ever thought that you might be gay?" he asked, his face screwed up in an expression bordering on manic.
"Arse! I'm in my bloody boxers, Seamus!"
Seamus shook his head impatiently. "No, you bastard. I'm not talking about you."
"Hang on," said Dean. "You're at Neville's. You mean you finally figured it out, then?"
"What, that he's gay? Yeah, I'd say I have. I found his art books."
"Art books? What does that have to– ohhh, art books. Got it. And?"
"I dunno. Help me? I'm a bit confused."
Seamus looked utterly forlorn, and Dean took pity on him. A half an hour later they were seated in Neville's kitchen with tea. Seamus hated tea. But he held the cup, and that made him feel slightly calmer.
"So," Dean began. "You think you're bent. Tell me more."
Seamus nearly jumped out of his chair. "Ye can't just say it like that!" But at Dean's skeptical expression he sat back, shoulders slumped. "I've never thought about it before. I mean, I'm not exactly turning the birds away, am I? I can't be. Can I?"
"Well, maybe you're bisexual or something," Dean suggested, calmly. Seamus eyed him warily.
"No, seriously," he went on. "You remember people used to have a go at us and it never bothered me. Not that I'm bent at all, but you've got nothing to worry about from any of your friends. And especially not Neville, mate," he finished with a laugh.
"What d'ye mean by that?"
"I mean that I'd swear on Merlin's beard that he has a crush on you, and has for ages."
Seamus's stomach did another little flip flop. "You're serious? You really think so?" He cleared his throat. "I mean to say– ah feck it. I think I like him."
Dean grinned. "Well, he does brew brilliant beer. Match made in heaven, I'd say."
The rest of the week saw Seamus in the same routine, but with one slight modification. He thought about Neville constantly. He had to buy a tube of lube he was having at it so often. And he went through every book in Neville's flat looking for more porn.
On Monday he found two other books of photographs, one of them wizarding photos, which was especially stimulating and informative.
Tuesday evening he sat in Neville's closet with a pint, just inhaling the scent that he'd realized must be Neville's.
Wednesday found him looking through Neville's photo albums. There was one picture of the two of them taken a couple of years after the war ended. Neville was seated next to him with his arm of the back of Seamus's chair. At several points Neville would glance over at Seamus with a look of longing on his face. Seamus took the picture out and conjured a frame for it. He put it by the bed.
On Thursday he sang Burt Bacharach to the plants and afterwards felt a little bit dirty.
Friday was his last night alone in the flat, so he spent some time gathering up his things and tidying before he took it upon himself to re-pot the Flitterbloom. It looked like it could use it.
On Saturday morning he felt nervous and regretful. He wasn't sure what else to do with himself before Neville got back that night, so he decided to take this final opportunity to walk around starkers. Who knew when he'd get to do that again?
He got himself a pint and turned on the wireless. He lounged on the couch for a bit, had a shower, stared at the plant shelves, had another pint. There was a lot of time to kill before the 8 o'clock Portkey arrived back. Perhaps another look at those art books.
By 6 o'clock that evening he was singing Besame mucho to Aggie in nothing but his socks, when he caught a whiff of that scent. He breathed in and sighed.
"Sorry for the interruption, Aggie, but I just smelled Neville, and gonna fecking miss that when I go home."
"You'll miss my smell?"
Seamus froze. Neville stepped closer behind him. "You said you'd be walking around naked, but I thought you were taking the piss."
He could feel Neville's breath on his neck.
Breath on his neck.
He was so hard.
He could feel the pull between them. He shot a quick look behind him before snapping his head back to the plants.
"Yes?" Seamus felt a large warm hand on his shoulder.
"You're back early?" He let his neck loll to the side. He felt the breath closer.
"Yeah," Neville replied, his voice a purr. "Do you want me to leave and come back later?"
Seamus exhaled shakily.
"Or I could stay."
"Say yes," he said, before placing a gentle kiss to the top of Seamus's shoulder. The kisses continued, tentatively up the side of his neck, down the back of it. Seamus was dizzy with the feel of it. His body had never reacted to anything so insignificant as a little kiss so strongly. But from Neville, it seemed, they were anything but insignificant.
Neville closed the few inches left between them and Seamus felt cool denim press against his back.
"If I'd had any idea that this is what I'd be coming home to I would have left much, much earlier," he said, his hands trembling as they ran down the sides of Seamus's arms.
Seamus broke out in gooseflesh and let out a little sigh.
"Until you were gone I had no idea. No idea at all." His head rested on Neville's chest, and he could feel an unmistakable hardness pressed against his lower back.
Seamus's body racked with shudders. Neville grabbed him, arms encircling, warm and strong around him. He felt fingertips run up and down the middle of his stomach, and then a hot callused hand gripped his cock. It was all he could do to keep standing. Thanks to Neville, he didn't have to try very hard.
"Keep doing that. Whatever you do don't stop, or I'm leaving."
Neville's hand pulled his foreskin up and down his length, gripping him around the waist with his other arm. Seamus wanted more.
"Take off your shirt. Please," he panted.
Neville complied quickly, without removing his hand, amazingly enough. Seamus grabbed the shirt from him and held it up against his face, smelling it as Neville slowly pulled.
"I've never done anything like this before," he admitted breathlessly.
"Me neither," came Neville's reply.
"Let's go to the bedroom."
The slide of Neville's tongue as they kissed was amazing. It was a man's mouth, big, demanding, prickly. But it was also Neville's. Seamus couldn't believe the pleasure he was taking from such a simple act.
Despite his admitted lack of experience, Neville was a natural. The feel of him licking up and down Seamus's cock was unbelievably brilliant. He came in such a hurry that he thought for sure Neville would gag, but amazingly he swallowed it all. Seamus was impressed.
"What about you?" he asked. "I kind of want to go slowly, if ye know what I mean."
Neville blushed profusely.
"I'm just as inexperienced as you are at this. You may not have noticed, but I don't really date much."
"At all, you mean," Seamus replied, grinning.
"Wanker." Neville grinned back. "I've a little bit, but I'm all for taking things slowly."
"Well, your bits aren't little, see, and that's exactly why I want to take things slowly," he laughed.
Neville appeared embarrassed and chuffed at the same time, if that was possible.
"I know something we could try. Hold your legs together. Hang on..." Neville reached into the night stand drawer for some lube and Seamus grabbed it out of his hand. He smeared some onto Neville's cock, and watched in fascination as something in Neville seemed to snap.
"Lay down. NOW," Neville commanded.
Seamus had no thought of refusing, and lay down. Neville was on top of him in a flash. He thrust his cock between Seamus's thighs and began thrusting at a frenzied pace. Each stroke pressed behind his balls and into the cleft of his arse, becoming slick with lube. Before he knew it, warm spurts of come were spreading between his arse and the sheets. When Neville kissed him, panting, Seamus was already hard again.
"We're nowhere near done yet," Neville breathed.
Astonishingly, Seamus became even harder.
"How long, Nev?" Seamus carded his fingers through Neville's hair, rubbing and scratching along the way. Neville was draped across him like a blanket.
"A long time," he admitted. "Since seventh year, probably. What about you? What made you consider this?"
"Seven days. But I'm hoping we can keep this up much longer."
He pulled Neville in for a kiss and began to laugh.
"And I found your art books."
"Ah. Did they turn you, then?" he asked, smiling.
Seamus nodded. "Well, them and your beer."