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Harry Potter and the Quiet Life	By : marrjisback Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Neville Views: 15576 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: i do NOT own Harry potter nor am I making any profit from this story

Chapter List
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The First Guest

Neville was probably Harry’s first guest, really. He lived at the house for the next two months helping Harry plant a garden worthy of London. They planted moss and vines to grow up the side of the house, roses and enchanted lilies and butterfly bushes with great purple flowers like ink stains. They lined the path with stones and ripped up the cement sidewalk and replaced it with a patted down dirt path. As they clipped the dead branches from the shadowy poplar Harry found himself once again admiring his friend.

Neville had stretched out; though he was still thickly built it was no longer baby fat. He was strong. Harry had more muscle definition, he knew, but Neville had strong shoulders and a larger chest. He was taller as well, so it balanced nicely. But Harry was really staring at that face. He’d never spent to long staring at Neville’s face because his mind sort of filled it in. The pudgy face of a first year looking for his toad. But Neville had always had a soft face, a gentle face. Even as an adult he looked, well, kind. His bright blue eyes were sort of rosy like in old movies when they blurred the faces of the actors when they fell in love. His softness and general pleasantness seemed like some dream of normality to Harry. Neville was like a pendulum. He was constant.

“I’ve always wondered why you wanted to be friends with me.” Harry said suddenly. Neville was so startled he clipped right through a living branch, exposing flush green veins. He brought his eye brows together to stare at Harry.

“I mean, you knew we were trouble. And we weren’t particularly kind to you.” Harry murmured, shame flooding his face. “But you did right by us.”

“Are you an idiot?” Neville shook his head of hair and rubbed his stubble thoughtfully. Harry found he liked that stubble.

“I was the one always surprised you put with me. I mean, you could have been friends with any bloke. And, well, you were kind to me. You saved my rememberall. And you told me to stand up for myself. Said I was worth 12 of Malfoy. Harry, you are kind to a fault. My grandmother always said you were too nice to be a celebrity.” Harry felt his face burn.

“Right.” He muttered, turning back to the task at hand. Teddy ran out then, dragging a toy truck behind him.

“Daddy! I wanna too!” He shouted bending over to fill his truck with dirt. He rushed about loudly.

“Does he always call you Daddy?” Neville asked as he paused to adjust his hat and wipe some sweat of his brow. He squinted at the little person running about. It was bizarre to think that Harry was raising a child, or that he was opening a bed and breakfast in the middle of muggle London. Neville had always thought Harry was little impulsive, but he never thought of him as whimsical. But this place was so bizarre from the curtains to the screaming portraits to the blasted family trees. Harry himself was so…enchanting. The house, as Harry said, was meant for the meeting of strangers. He sensed it immediately. He expected it to be warm and welcoming and it was. What he did not expect was a house elf named Kreature serving him brightly or Mrs. Tonks living upstairs or the Doxies in the curtains or any of it. This side of Harry was so much softer than Neville remembered. Harry had always seemed untouchable in his great strength, power and courage. But this Harry was untouchable in a very different way. He was like the delicate bindings of the Chinese Lantern Flower. Neville feared that if he touched this soft, happy Harry, he would break.

“He does! And it causes terrible rumours on the block!” Harry laughed. “I don’t know how exactly it started. He used to call me “Hahahy” He could only say the first and last part of my name, you know? Then Hermione tried to get him to say ‘Dada’ instead and I became Daddy.” Harry ran his fingers through the messy array of hair that whistled in the wind and tangled with the dewy smell of gardening that he found so enticing on Neville’s skin. “Do you think it odd? Should I make him call me otherwise?” Harry asked suddenly, gazing out at Teddy who was, for all intents and purposes, his son.

“No. It suits you.” Neville turned back to trimming the tree and Harry did the same. Neville glanced at Harry’s back before hurriedly returning to his work. Poor Harry, raising the baby all alone.

“How have you been since, well, since…” Neville muttered. He’d been there for almost two weeks without mentioning it.

“Since what?” Harry said darkly. “Think we ought to pull up the black berry tree? Looks dead.”

Neville swallowed. “No, it’s wick. I checked.”

“Wick?” Harry asked, reaching towards it.

“Alive. Green, you see?” Neville pulled down the branch he’d cut earlier to expose it’s green, fleshy innards. Harry smiled.

“I know what wick means.” He said, but not harshly. As though he enjoyed that Neville wanted to teach him something. Neville released the branch suddenly, nervously and it whacked him in the face, cutting his cheek.

“Owch!” Neville gasped. Genuine concern mingled with amusement on Harry’s face.

“Oh, Nev, I missed this.” He chuckled, muttering some wandless magic to sew up the scratch and rubbed away the blood with a rag. Neville’s face turned a bright pink.

“Always doing this kind of thing…” Neville sort of sighed, clearly embarrassed. He tried to nonchalantly lean in to Harry a little. Their sides touched and Neville felt his whole left go numb and warm from the contact. Harry was so much brighter, he thought, than he’d been then. Perhaps he’d just needed time.

Two and a half years ago Harry had been so busy trying to bring up a baby. Whenever Neville saw Harry he looked wrecked. Between working for the ministry trying to catch fleeing Death Eaters and bringing up a six month old Harry had withered somewhat. His eyes were ringed in dark smudges and he was irritable and dreary. At their joint birthday party that year he’d nearly passed out and Neville had lent him the use of his bed. But even then he’d seemed happy with his life. It wasn’t until Ginny had left him for Dean Thomas then he’d really seemed to fall apart. Neville had been torn about that as well. Harry had spent so little time with Ginny, he’d been so busy. But she went about it the wrong way. Poor Harry had to hear from Seamus. Seamus, of course, was under the impression that Harry already knew and that, well, Ginny had broken up with him already. Harry had been very mature about it but he became darker. Secluded. He hardly came out to meet with anyone anymore. Neville had only got scattered letters. Even Ron said he didn’t really visit often. But it seemed Harry has flourished, like the gardens. The last time Neville had seen Harry was the night his gran had died. The night he’d messed up. The night he’d ruined everything.

It seemed that Neville was suddenly surrounded by scantily clad teenage girls.

“Hi Harry!”

“Who is this, Harry?”

“Introduce us!”

“We brought lemonade!”

Neville blinked and dropped the garden shears, his face tomatoeing at the attention. He realised then that there was only four, but they seemed to take up more room.

“Uh, this is Neville. We went to school together.” Harry said awkwardly. He was having trouble remembering all the girls’ names. College girls all looked the same to him. Especially his neighbours. He was sure their names all rhymed or something.

“Mindy, Martha, Makeila and” he paused. The blonde one, um, “and M-uh-Missy!”

M-uh-Missy seemed to take his stutter as a positive note, as though Harry was embarrassed to introduce her, not as though he forgot her name. Missy was quite self important. She brushed her stunning hair behind her ear and gazed lustily through her lashes at Harry. She held Harry’s lemonade aloft and he took it awkwardly. The other girls, who weren’t as focused on one boy, fawned over Neville and Teddy who’d rushed over to receive his fair dues. They fussed over him and cooed and Teddy enjoyed it thoroughly. Then, as quickly as they appeared, they disappeared in a puff of giggles and sweet smelling perfume. Neville stared at Harry.

“What kind of life are you living here?” Neville said accusingly. Harry laughed.

“I suppose you haven’t met any of the neighbours. Let me provide you with a breakdown There are six houses on this court besides this one. Across the street is the college house, some of the occupants you’ve just met. Consists of an uncertain amount of university students who come and go in peculiar patterns. On the left we have Mr and Mrs. Livingstone and their two boys Marcus and Leon. To the right Mrs. Milton a widow who enjoys tea and gardening. To the left of the college house is the New Family. Only just in their twenties. Morris and Lisa, pregnant with the first child. Beside them is the Flagers. Sisters or lesbians, the truth is unknown. Then lastly is the Sadats. An elderly Indian couple with five children and seemingly infinite amounts of adorable grandchildren. I don’t really know anyone farther down, but they are very friendly and are mostly common families with younger kids and a couple teenagers. It’s all very suburban.” He grinned. “Right in the middle of London, suburbia is alive and well.”

Well, it wasn’t really the middle of London. It was sort of off to the side. Pleasantly so. The perfect place for a bed and breakfast. Far enough away to be quaint and beautiful and close enough to London’s main attractions to be perfect for travellers. They were almost done gardening as well. Harry supposed he should fix the inside. Mrs. Tonks had been decorating beautifully. Applying that womanly aspect that made a place liveable. Well as liveable as somewhere could be with a certain someone hanging in the foyer.

Mrs. Black screamed and hollered about dirty little blood traitors destroying the house as Harry traced chalk lines across the floors, getting Neville to move the furniture about.

“Sit on the table. All of you.” Harry suggested. Neville helped Mrs. Tonks climb onto the dining room table as Harry hoisted Teddy up to sit in her lap. He clapped happily and his Nana gave him a nervous smile.

“Harry,” Neville said as he too climbed up, “Are you sure this is, um, safe?”

“No idea.” Harry said, his accent adding an ‘r’ sound to the end of the word. “Saw it in a movie.”

“A what?!” Neville shouted as Harry raised his wand, envisioned what he wanted and shouted.

“Occasus Abeo!” The room sort of twisted a little and everyone’s vision blurred except Harry’s. Harry found he saw the room perfectly pristine, but translucent. He could reach out with his mind and bend the shapes. He aligned each wall with one of the chalk lines he drew, he flipped a few walls and when the mood struck him, he added a doorway and changed the tiles. Everyone else simply heard a few bangs, a pop and a final hearty thud. Harry glanced about.

“Didn’t think it would really work.” Harry said, grinning. Mrs. Tonks rubbed her ears.

“Little Prat.” She said, but it was with a tired sort of endearment.

The whole lay out of the house had rearranged. The room with the blasted family tree had absorbed the living room and hall to become one large living room with all the beautiful furniture Mrs. Tonks had purchased. The back of that room opened onto an entirely glass wall that allowed patrons to gaze out at the fantasy-like back yard strung with vines and impossibly large blossoms charmed to never brown. The only other room on the bottom floor was a rather spacious kitchen to the left, with an eating table for breakfast. It also had a door that opened onto the backyard but it was a swinging door. It was very reminiscent of a movie-perfect childhood, with the door constantly swinging as children ran in and out of their mum’s kitchen for lemonade. The upper floor was all bedrooms. Only Sirius’ room remained untouched. Mrs. Blacks portrait seemed to have disappeared, however Harry revealed, to a sobbing Kreature, that the shouting portrait was in the closet Kreature lived in. And Harry had charmed the closet to be sound proof. The family tree had been completely repainted, blasted blotches becoming the round happy faces of Sirius and others. Bellatrix had disappeared along with many others and replaced with distant cousins like the Potters and the Weasleys. Even Hermione made an appearance, a thin line dotted between her and Ron labeled engaged. Neville was startled to see himself, scuffed beard and all, a distant cousin looped under his parents and his Gran.

After the others had gone to bed, Harry found Neville staring at the glimmering photo of his Gran. He traced her face softly.

“She was an amazing woman.” Harry said, handing Neville a cup of tea.

“Yes, she-she always believed in me. Even when everyone said I’d liable to be Squib. She kept saying I was just a late bloomer.” He took a long sip. Harry drank tea every night, which Neville found adorable. But Harry set his tea down without taking a sip and gazed up at the wall of pictures. He eyes flicked from one shot to the next. Neville watched them touch Tonks, Professor Lupin, Sirius, Fred, Dumbledore and others. The long dead.

“They were all amazing.” Neville said. Harry nodded slowly.

“Do you miss your Gran a lot?” Harry said, crossing his arms and rubbing them together slightly.

“Yes.” Neville took another long drag of his tea. A silence eclipsed them for awhile and Neville slowly finished his tea. “I just wanted to thank you.”

“For what?” Harry asked.

“What you did last July. After Gran died. I know, well, it shouldn’t have happened. But thanks. I was feeling alone and you were there for me.”

Harry turned such a violent shade of red, Neville was startled. Harry’s hand flew to cover his mouth and he turned back to the wall quickly. The shape of his long, thin body was dark against the light of the torches. Neville smiled.

“Right, well, good-night.” Harry said quickly and rushed out of the room. Neville chuckled a little. He picked up Harry’s full tea cup and poured it down the sink and headed to bed. He dreamt of that night.

Distraught. That was all I could think. I didn’t know where to be without Gran. Alone. I’m not strong enough to be alone. Why did she have to die? I can’t even go see my parents. They’ve got visiting hours. Can you imagine? The only child in the world who has parents with visiting hours. My Gran is dead.

Somehow, I found myself at Harry’s door, then the bedroom. I’m alone and he understands. I’m alone and he’s here, alone, with me. We are alone together. I was shaking and sobbing and he was holding me to his chest. Did I move first or did he? It must have been me, Harry wouldn’t have reached out and kissed me like he just did. His lips were so shy against mine. They barely brushed against the surface. I wanted more. I bit down suddenly and he gasped, and thought to move away. A grabbed him around that slim waist. He tasted so sweet. Like tea. My tongue ran along those sweet lips as I pushed him down against the bed. His hands reached up to knot in my hair and they pulled my closer as he opened his mouth to me. My face was still wet with tears and we both tasted salt as our tongues touched. My hands pushed that constricting shirt away and found warm contact on his chest. I knew I shouldn’t reach for those nipples, but I did. I pinched and pulled and he moaned deeply into my mouth, the vibrations moving against my teeth. His knee slid up between my legs and brushed my erection like a burning flame. His hand slid down to cup it nervously. I pulled back and we paused. I gazed into his dark, half-lidded green eyes. His pupils were huge with arousal and his brutalized lips glistened red. I pulled his glasses away and put them on the table. He didn’t try to stop me. Slowly, he slid down the zipper on my jeans. It sounded like thunder in the quiet room, murmuring sultry things to the lightening. He grasped me, and I moaned and pressed my mouth around his nipple and bit down. His breath quickened. I yanked down his pants in a quick motion, just down low enough to grab his manhood. Skin to skin I pulled up and stroked down. Our rhythms matched perfectly. We went faster and faster, our mouths rocking together, our cocks and hands touching and rubbing and gasping. He moaned my name and it burned it’s sound into my mind to replay over and over every night. He came first. I’ll never forget his face, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, he was biting his own bottom lip his cheeks red and dark. His eyes shot open, wide and green they stared right into mine. They begged me for more, for everything I had and I wanted him to have it.

“Neville, p-please.” He groaned in ecstasy and came into my hand. Those eyes rocked me over the edge and I burst into his hands.

Neville startled awake and stared down at his own soiled hand. If only that hand had been Harry’s.

Down the hallway, Harry’s dreams were not quiet so deviant or happy.
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Harry Potter and the Quiet Life