Implico Animae

Title: Implico Animae
Author: Irana Potter-Snape
Rating: Oh so very, very, Adult (aka NC17)
Pairings: Draco/Neville; Theo/Blaise, Snape/Harry, Ron/Pansy implied
Warnings: Frottage, mild angst, desperate sex
Summary: Someone wants to see Draco happy and cared for and has slipped him a potion to find the mate of his soul regardless of whom that person may be. The question is, can Draco accept it once he realises where the potion leads him?
Disclaimer: JKR I am not. Play with her toys, I do. I'll give them back, but they may be a bit worn out by then. What you don't recognize is mine.
Author's Notes: Written for for the 2006 Late Bloomer Ficathon. She wanted possible bondage kinks, and S/M games. Some slashy smut, possibly the ol’ veela plot, or a soul/love/mate/lust potion of some kind. Hope this suits. I haven't had this much fun writing in ages, so thank you for this. 7819 words. Much love and thanks to and for the lightning betas.

*~*~*

Draco listened to the healer in stunned silence. He couldn't possibly be hearing what he thought he was hearing. No way. There was no possible way anyone could be suicidal enough to slip him a love potion. Not and expect to live once he discovered who did it.

"I presume the person who did this to me is meant to be the one I declare my affections for?" he asked bitingly and wasn't surprised to see the healer visibly flinch and back away.

"I don't believe it works that way, Mr. Malfoy. I'm not a potions master, however, my understanding of the spell cast during the brewing of the potion requires that this be someone who cares deeply for you in order for the potion to take effect."

"Fine," Draco virtually snarled as he stood, frustration clear in every line of his body. "Then I'll discuss it with someone who is a Master," he added as he stalked away from the healer and out of the private room he'd been shown to. Bloody good thing his godfather happened to be the premier Potions Master in all Britain and didn't seem to mind – much – unexpected visits from the closest thing he had to family.

~*~*~*

Severus wasn't surprised to have Draco appear on his doorstep, although he pretended he was. It had taken him long enough to arrive after all. Really, his godson was so very not self-aware.

"Draco," he greeted as he stepped back from the doorway to allow his visitor to enter.

"Godfather," Draco replied as he stepped inside and headed over to the cabinet where Severus kept his brandy. He pulled out the bottle and a glass, poured himself a healthy shot, swallowed it down and poured himself another.

"Do help yourself to my best brandy," Severus said dryly as he pushed the door to his modest cottage closed. Harry was due home within the hour and he fully intended to have Draco gone before then.

"Did you want a glass?" Draco asked, reaching for another.

"No. Providing you leave some behind," he continued humour lacing his voice. "I'll have some when Harry arrives.

Draco started. He hadn't realised it was so late and he knew well his godfather valued his time with his bonded. For a brief moment envy so pure it cut like a knife flashed through him before he squashed it and reminded himself he needed no one. He was fine on his own.

"I shan't keep you," he said. "Tell me what you know about the Implico Animae potion."

"It's a love potion of sorts. Never say you have resorted to such a measure. Weren't you the one who informed me you had no need of a faulty emotion as untrustworthy as the men who claimed to feel it?" Severus asked tauntingly.

"Funny, Godfather," Draco replied as he took a seat and made himself comfortable. "You do wish me gone when Harry arrives, don't you?"

Heaving a put upon sigh, Severus sank down in the chair across from his godson. "The potion is designed to find the mate to ones soul. It does so by driving the person who drank the potion to seek out the company of the one who holds the mate to his soul, the one magic dictates best completes them."

"Who would give me such a potion?" Draco murmured, wondering. It didn't sound malicious, not at all as he'd first thought.

"I presume there is someone who believes you are not as happy as you profess to be when it comes to your love life… of lack thereof. It would have to have been made by someone who cares for you. It would fail in its purpose otherwise."

Draco rolled his eyes. "The only people who care one whit about me are you, Potter for some unknown reason, Pansy, Blaise and Theodore. You couldn't have done it because you know how I despise having my life interfered with, Potter is laughable at potions of the complexity this requires and the only other person who might have the ability to brew it is Blaise who is far too wrapped up in Theodore to see past his lover's face. Which of course, leaves Pansy. It's just the sort of harebrained thing she would do." He did wonder how she managed to convince Blaise to brew it, because he was fairly certain she couldn't.

Severus said nothing, merely waited.

Standing abruptly and drawing on his coat, Draco made a decision. "Thank you, Godfather. Enjoy your evening with Potter," he added as he made for the door.

"Do attempt not to damage the girl too badly. She is due to be married in a month after all," Severus said dryly as he rose to follow Draco to the door.

Draco snorted. "Whatever I do to her I'm certain that wild man she's marrying will undo. Pansy with a Weasley," he added, shaking his head. And who would have thought Weasley would have followed in his eldest brother's footsteps to become a curse breaker?

He stepped out into the night air and Apparated to Pansy's home, Severus closing the door behind him with a smug smile on his face. For such an intelligent man Draco was certainly more than capable of missing that which stared him in the face.

~*~*~*

Frustrated, Draco threw himself on his sofa, legs and arms sprawling to take up most of the room on the mammoth piece of furniture. Pansy had smirked and merely given him the ingredients in the potion and suggested that if he truly didn't wish to meet anyone that he find and prepare a counter potion. She hadn't come right out and said she'd done it, but she hadn't denied it either, especially not once he'd pointed out the person who gave it to him had to care for him and presumably have his best interests at heart. She'd watched him rant in amused silence before handing over the recipe – proof of her guilt as far as he was concerned – then suggested he find the counter before she'd kicked him out of her home.

He pulled the crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket and reread it, a frown creasing his face. Fucking perfect, he thought viciously. Some of the opposites for several ingredients could only be found in any sort of decent condition at Longbottom Nurseries. He'd have to get help from Longbottom even if the oaf had no idea he'd be helping Draco. Another sodding Gryffindor in his life – if only for the very short period he expected finding the counter to take – as if Weasley and Potter weren't enough.

Sighing, he hauled himself out of his chair and headed to his bedroom. He'd deal with it in the morning. Tomorrow was Saturday… the nursery would be open then. He grimaced as he remembered that the nursery was located on the Muggle-Magical dividing line in London, and that the entrance was on the Muggle side. He'd have to dress the part. The only thing he could be grateful to Pansy for in this entire mess was her love of Muggle culture and her knowledge of their finest fashion. At least he'd be dressed appropriately.

~*~*~*

Neville puttered happily about his shop, smiling in pleasure whenever he came across a new bloom, or saw the evidence of crossbreeding working. He was in the magical portion, teasing the mandrakes lightly – the mature ones naturally – carefully feeding the spider palms flies and other delicacies before moving on and steeling himself for tackling the bouncing bulbs. He'd just managed to wrestle one back into its pot and cast the charm to keep it in place when he heard the honking daffodils go off in a way that signaled a magical presence besides his own in the greenhouse. Sighing – as he'd been hoping for no magical customers today – he wiped his hands on the apron he wore and turned to head towards the door and face whomever had come to see him. He froze mid-step at the sight that greeted him.

Draco Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy looking utterly at home in black slacks, a grey silk button-down shirt with the top two buttons casually undone and a black blazer. Neville shook his head and blinked, certain he was imagining things. But no, Malfoy was still there, his brow arched, amusement clear in his expression.

Draco took in the sight of Longbottom – in an apron of all things – and was quite surprised to feel his body respond. Longbottom had changed. He'd been aware of it of course, the war and subsequent rebuilding in the past nine years had changed everyone, even him though not many people realised just how deeply the change in him went.

Neville Longbottom at twenty-five was far more alluring than he'd ever been, frame still the same only filled out with muscle and no spare inches on him that Draco could see at all. His body twitched again and he smiled at himself in amusement. I've gone far too long without sex if I'm responding to Longbottom of all people, he thought.

Neville had been so busy being shocked that Malfoy of all people was standing in his shop that he nearly jerked in surprise when Draco spoke. "Aren't you going to invite me in?" came the coolly amused query in the same smooth, aristocratic voice Neville remembered.

"Funny, I thought you were already out. Why would you want back in?" Neville's mouth replied before his brain caught up with it. He could feel the colour rising in his cheeks and looked away. This wasn't Harry or Dean who he could tease about being queer, this was Malfoy for Merlin's sake. What the hell was he doing?

The other brow joined the first when Neville turned back to face Malfoy, flush now under control. The kitten has developed teeth, Draco thought. Not surprising. He would have needed to in order to survive. "I presume you have an office of some sort, or do you normally conduct business in your glasshouse?" Draco drawled, wondering if he would garner another flush. There was something about watching that face flush… he gave himself an internal shake. Longbottom wasn't his style. He preferred his men cool and aristocratic like himself. The sort of men he favoured would never lower themselves enough to get even one finger dirty, much less their entire hand by playing in the dirt.

Neville couldn't help it; he smiled. "Actually I prefer to conduct business with former enemies within striking distance of the Venus fly traps," he said. "Much safer for me that way… they like me."

Wit as well. Surprising. "Shall we?" Draco asked. By the flytraps it was.

Brow arched, and determined to be himself regardless of how daunting Malfoy could be, Neville stepped assuredly past him and led him directly to the dangerous plants, walked just past the largest one and stopped so Malfoy would be forced to stand in front of it.

"Business you said," he prompted.

Draco took in his location and inwardly smiled. This might actually be entertaining. He fished out the piece of parchment – careful to fold it so only the ingredients were listed – and handed it over to Neville. "Your nursery carries the counters to most of these I believe."

This time it was Neville's brow that rose as he read over the ingredients. He'd been forced to learn more about potions during the three long years of the war and had become almost Hermione-like in his search for understanding. He recognized many of the ingredients for what they were and once it clicked in his brain what they were normally used for he looked up in surprise.

"Someone was stupid enough to dose you with a love potion?" he asked, voice showing his incredulity.

Draco decided not to respond to that, as the answer was painfully obvious. "Have you the ingredients I need in stock?" he asked instead, his tone clearly implying he doubted it.

Neville nodded and moved off to begin collecting bits of what Draco would need. "Of course," he said, slightly incensed by the tone in Malfoy's voice. Even Snape bought his ingredients from him; naturally he would have the ingredients needed for what Neville could only assume would be Malfoy's attempts at a counter potion. "How much of each do you want?' he asked, all business.

Draco smirked at the tone of Longbottom's voice. He'd managed to get under his skin. Only fitting since he seems to have managed to crawl under mine without much effort. "One hundred grams of each," he said. If he needed more he could always come back.

Neville privately thought that likely wouldn't be enough and resigned himself to seeing Malfoy at least once more before this business was over with. He quickly collected what Malfoy needed, packaged them carefully and handed the lot to Malfoy. He wanted him gone… there was something about the man that unsettled him and not in the way he was used to but in a more personal way he'd not felt in some time.

He handed the package over and said, "The clerk will take care of you out front. Tell her to put it on your tab." Unspoken was the surety Malfoy would be back, but they both knew that.

Draco's brow twitched, but he said nothing, merely nodded and turned to take his leave. Neville just managed to wait until he was past the daffodils to sigh in relief. An attraction to Draco Malfoy was something he did not need.

~*~*~*

Draco did go back – twice in the next week – growing more frustrated as his efforts to produce a counter failed. Deciding he needed to step away from the project for a while, Draco dressed for a night out the Saturday exactly a week from the first time he'd been to see Longbottom. He'd lingered far too long the last time, taking pleasure from the other man's company, from the thrill of warmth that settled along his spine when the other man was near and had come to the conclusion the only way to rid himself of the unwelcome attraction was by going out and finding himself a lovely male diversion.

That thought in mind he chose black leather trousers – cliché yes, but it did the job – and a silver mesh shirt he knew hinted at the sleek muscles of his chest, torso and nipples in a fashion that made everyone who saw him want to touch him. Dressed, he headed for Promises, not as upscale a club as he normally patronized, but perhaps there he would find what he needed to rid himself of the desire to know what Longbottom's come would feel like sliding across his tongue, what his skin tasted of, how his mouth felt. Shaking his head in mild disgust, he pushed open the door of the club and headed immediately for the bar.

Neville – caught in the sensual beat that was the music being played at Promises – was lost to everything and everyone around him. Dressed in skintight black denim without room for pants and an open short-sleeved button down blue shirt that accented his eyes, droplets of sweat rolling slowly down his chest as he danced, he was beautiful. His eyes were closed as his hips rolled to the beat, hands above his head; unaware he was oozing sensuality with every movement.

There was a small crowd gathered around him, men taking turns dancing in front of him, behind him, bodies brushing against him, but Neville was blind to it all, caught up in his own world, barely aware he was being touched and groped. A bold blond slid behind Neville and wrapped his arms around his waist, ducking his head to plant a kiss on Neville's neck while Neville danced unmindful.

Naturally, that was when Draco chose to turn from the bar and check out the action on the floor and promptly froze, his drink halfway to his lips.

"Beautiful isn't he?" asked the bartender, eyes fixed on Neville. "Comes in here every Saturday night, rarely pays for a drink of his own and spends most of his time on the floor. Never leaves with anyone though," the man added, disappointment clear in his voice making it obvious he'd tried and failed to entice Neville into his bed.

"Is that so?" he asked, voice cold, vivid flash of possessiveness running through him.

Undeterred the barman kept talking. "Dances like a fucking dream. He'll take a kiss or two, but he never initiates it, never lets it go further than that, no matter how the blokes in here try. He seems to know that lot… they're the only ones allowed to touch him."

A fission of jealousy burned its way through Draco and he tossed his drink back. "Give me another. A double," he snapped, barely turning to be certain he placed the empty glass on the bar. Watching Longbottom move was addictive and Draco had no trouble replacing the man who was virtually fucking Neville through his clothes with himself. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen something so sensual, so sexy and shook himself in an effort to block the desire he could feel rising in his gut. Determined not to succumb to his want, to not be like the men out there vying for Longbottom's attention, Draco sat and watched, forgetting entirely his purpose in being there.

It was when the need for the man he watched overwhelmed him that he paid his tab and left, hand around his cock as soon as he'd managed to Apparate home and peel his clothes off. It was only as he lay recovering from the most explosive orgasm he'd had in memory that he realised he'd been imagining himself driving into Longbottom. Groaning, he wiped his hand on the sheet and turned over, vowing to put Longbottom from his mind and to never go back to that sodding club.

Despite his resolve, Draco found himself back at Promises the next three weeks running, every time watching Neville until he could no longer take it. Then he would pay his tab and leave, going home to wank himself into orgasm and then sleep only to dream of Longbottom gracing his bed. He couldn't remember ever wanting someone this way, so much it consumed him and it was the fourth Saturday at promises when he decided to do something about it.

He was sitting at the bar, brandy in hand, determinedly not looking at Neville when the bartender spoke.

"He's heading this way, mate," he murmured to Draco.

"This would interest me why?" Draco asked only to be met with a knowing look seconds before Neville settled into place beside him.

"Whiskey, Ben," Neville panted, clearly exhausted from the dancing he'd been doing. He wore black mesh tonight coupled with leather trousers and was fully aware of who he sat beside despite his pretense to the opposite. It was as he sat back with his drink that he turned his eyes to Draco. "Malfoy," he greeted, "didn't think this was your sort of place."

"It's not," came the immediate answer. Draco was proud his voice sounded as disdainful as he wanted it to, perfectly even and not at all like he was practically vibrating with awareness of the man next to him.

Neville couldn't help but be amused. He was buzzed enough that some of his inhibitions were loose and comfortable enough to be willing to tease Malfoy despite whatever consequences might arise. He'd seen Draco leave the first night he'd been in the club, been aware of his presence and Draco's eyes on his body every night since then. He noticed also that Draco sent someone else to retrieve his potions ingredients since that first night and wondered.

"Slumming?" he asked, voice full of laughter.

Draco's head snapped around to Neville's then and their eyes locked, sparks dancing in the air between them. "I simply chose something different for my entertainment this evening," he lied smoothly.

"Funny, I was certain I saw you last week. And the week before that as well," Neville replied instantly, mischief dancing in his eyes as he took a sip of the whiskey, feeling the pleasant burn of it down his throat.

Unaware his eyes had moved to follow the working of Neville's throat, Draco replied, "You must have been mistaken."

Tossing back his drink for courage and trusting in his instinct, Neville swiveled to face Draco. "I don't think so. Dance with me?"

Draco stopped breathing. That was the one response he hadn't prepared himself for. He frowned – disliking the sensation of being wrong footed – and shook his head. "You've partners enough," he replied, drunk enough to be unaware of just what he was giving away.

"Perhaps, but I've never asked any of them to dance," Neville found himself confessing. He set his glass down and turned toward the floor. "If you change your mind I'll be out there," he murmured. He was gone before Draco could answer.

Blinking, Draco turned back to the bar to find the bartender watching him. "You know, mate, if he'd asked me to dance, I wouldn't still be sitting there. Never asked anyone to do that in the entire year and a half he's been coming here. Never bought a bloke a drink either, but he paid for all of yours before you got here," he added. "Mad to pass up a chance like that if you ask me."

"It's just as well I didn't ask then isn't it," Draco relied coldly, not liking at all that Neville had known he would be here tonight and feeling more off balance than he had before. And when did he become Neville and not Longbottom? Draco wondered as he indicated he wanted another drink.

Neville – a bit less certain of Draco's attraction to him given the rejection he'd just faced – found himself reacting with more enthusiasm than he ever had to advances of Blake, the blond that had kissed him the first night he'd seen Draco in the club. When Blake stepped in front of him and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close, Neville went willingly. If Draco wasn't interested then here was someone who was, and if he was… well, Neville would soon find out.

Draco turned to face the dance floor once more and nearly growled at the sight of Neville wrapped up in some other man's arms. He took a bracing drink from his glass and watched, eyes narrowed, as Neville let the bastard slide his hands along his back.

"Mad, mate," Ben commented from behind him, and the growl that had been building inside him escaped as he thunked the glass down on the bar and stood. Damned if he was allowing some low class git to touch what he wanted for himself. Without a backward glance he strode across to the floor, twisting his way around the bodies that got in his way until he approached his goal. He tapped pointedly on the shoulder of the man who held his prey and said coldly, voice dripping barely veiled threat, "I believe this dance is mine."

Neville's head snapped up at that – eyes widening and face flushing at the possessive tone in Draco's voice – and stepped out of Blake's arms before Blake knew what was happening. He watched as Draco stepped smoothly around Blake and shivered as he felt the arms he'd found himself dreaming of since the second night he'd seen Draco in the club slide confidently around him, bringing him closer to Draco's body than he had been to Blake's. He rested his head against Draco's shoulder and relaxed. He hadn't been mistaken after all.

Blake stepped away, bemused, as Neville melted into the other man's embrace. Shrugging, he went to claim another man for a dance as clearly Neville had made his choice. He was disappointed yes, but he'd known… they'd all known… that Neville was picky, was waiting for something or someone, and apparently, that someone had arrived. He wasn't surprised when next he looked around to see that the man had backed Neville into a darker part of the floor against the wall and he looked away, wishing Neville well.

Desire raged through Draco as he danced with Neville, the music slow and sultry, every inch of their bodies touching. Neville was perhaps an inch or two shorter than he was and Draco found the height difference perfect, the points of contact – chest to chest and cock to cock – electrifying. He would taste the mouth that had teased him in his dreams for a month and he would taste it now.

Backing Neville against the wall, he lifted the other man's head and closed the distance between them, tongue flicking teasingly against Neville's lips before pushing its way inside and ruthlessly claiming Neville's mouth for its own. A soft, shocked sound escaped Neville's throat and Draco moaned, pressing his advantage and devouring Neville's mouth.

His hands were locked around Draco's neck before Neville realised they were moving, mouth opened wide and groin pressing against Draco as he plundered Neville's mouth like he was seeking buried treasure. Hot, ruthless and branding Neville, Draco's tongue sought out his teeth, flicked teasingly over the roof of his mouth and then stroked determinedly along his tongue. Neville groaned with need as Draco pushed a leg between his, a hard thigh connecting with the hot length of his trapped cock and he couldn't help the instinctive thrust against it.

Draco growled, hands gliding purposefully down Neville's back to close decisively on his arse. He pulled Neville closer as he rocked his own fierce need into Neville's thigh, nerves tingly as that was met with a needy whine from Neville's throat. He broke the kiss to nibble at the tempting bottom lip only to lick soothing at it before he sucked and licked his way along Neville's jaw, fierce joy filling him when Neville titled his head to give him access.

Greedily Draco gorged on the other man, teeth and tongue and lips blazing a trail down his neck to his throat and pausing at the pulse point to suck a bruise into existence. Mine he thought jealously and set about being certain anyone who looked at Neville next would know it.

Sensation flooding him, Neville's hips thrust at Draco, his own hands gripping at Draco, fingers tangling in his hair. He moaned as Draco moved against him, every nerve ending on fire as Draco marked him, tiny sounds of need escaping him despite his effort to stop them. He'd never felt like this before, never felt so much, and he gave himself over to it, passionately responding to every touch, every lick, mindlessly grinding his cock against Draco's until he could feel the orgasm building, ready to explode from his body.

Utterly controlled by his lust, Draco fastened his lips to Neville's once more, wanting to come, needing Neville to come, uncaring of the fact they were basically fucking against a wall in public, wanting only to brand Neville as his own. He pulled away to bite hard into the muscle of Neville's shoulder, triumph filling him as he felt Neville shudder in his arms, his own orgasm rocketing through him as he felt Neville come apart.

Dazed, Neville could only lean against the wall as Draco pulled away, eyes glinting.

"You're mine, Longbottom," Draco growled, once hand coming up to cup Neville's jaw. "No one touches you but me," he asserted before he pulled Neville into his arms for one last brutal kiss. "And don't you forget it," he said before he turned and moved away, intent on getting out of the club as fast as possible, shocked to the core by how much he meant the words that had just left his lips.

~*~*~*

Draco avoided the club – and Neville – for the next two weeks. He'd gone out to dinner with Blaise and Theo and was surprised to discover they'd heard about his… kiss… with Neville at the club. Apparently, Ron had gone looking for Neville that night for some reason – Draco was too shocked at knowing he'd been seen to hear what - saw him with Draco and left to return home to Pansy, laughing his arse off because Draco had fallen for a Gryffindor.

"Yes well, Pansy and Severus seem so pleased with their leonine lovers I thought I'd see what all the fuss was about. A fuck is a fuck after all, not much of interest there if you know what I mean," he lied smoothly, voice convincingly full of bored disinterest, unwilling to admit that yes, he very likely was arse over teakettle in love with Neville Longbottom.

Blaise and Theo looked at each other and then changed the subject. They had been hoping that Draco had finally found someone, even if it had been a Gryffindor. Both knew Draco was not as happy as he claimed to be with being single and Neville changed during the war and become the sort of confident man they both agreed Draco needed. They'd have to tell Pansy their plan had failed and that Neville wasn't the one for Draco. It seemed the potion had yet to work.

Three days later he dropped in unannounced on Severus and Harry and was surprised by the cold shoulder he received from both men, particularly Potter. No sooner had Draco stepped through the floo than Potter stood, a cold glare leveled in Draco's direction.

"I'm sorry Severus," Harry said as he made for the door. "I find myself in need of air as something foul seems to filling the air here." The door slammed behind him as he left, unwilling to stay in the cottage with Draco there.

Frowning Draco looked at the closed door for a moment before turning puzzled eyes on his godfather. Granted, he and Potter weren't the best of friends, but they'd been moving in that direction and he'd not been on the receiving end of a glare like that for nearly three years. "Trouble in paradise?" he asked, wondering if he had walked into an argument.

"Not at all," his godfather replied. "Harry merely refuses to suffer the company of fools."

Taken aback Draco responded intelligently with, "What?"

Standing, Severus poured himself a brandy, pointedly putting away the bottle without offering one to his godson. "It's a distaste he and I share and what is it if not foolishness to throw away what is likely the best thing to have ever happened to you after publicly claiming it?"

"You can't be serious," Draco spluttered in disbelief. "This is about Longbottom?" he asked, purposefully using the other man's last name in an effort to provide some distance.

Severus turned cold, furious eyes on his godson, temper held tightly in check. "The behavior you exhibited was the sort of callous, truculent behavior I would have expected from Lucius. Disappointed cannot adequately begin to express the utter discomfiture I find myself feeling at your appalling behaviour. Had I realised you would be so moronic as to squander the chance of happiness I gifted you with I would have saved myself the time and effort I put into it," Severus snapped.

Draco found himself gaping stupidly. "You made the potion."

"Brilliant deduction," Severus replied dryly. "Do take your ungrateful, unimaginative being away from my home until the good sense I credited you with has returned," he finished calmly, his tone and expression leaving no doubt in Draco's mind that he was very much not welcome.

More than anything, the tongue-lashing he'd just received pointed out what a monumental mistake he'd made. He'd forgotten that Neville had been one of the first to back them when they'd arrived unannounced one night in the camp of the Order, willing and ready to lend their aid to Potter in defeating Voldemort. He'd also forgotten that Neville had saved Severus' life at great risk to his own. That sort of thing created bonds, a bond that had apparently only grown while he'd been busy tending to his own affairs.

Draco swallowed harshly and nodded, Apparating out of Severus' home with shame running through him.

~*~*~*

The first time Draco attempted to apologise his owl was returned unopened. The second time both the note and the gift came back with a terse comment that Draco could keep his meaningless words to himself as Neville had better things to do with his time than waste it on the likes of a Malfoy. That response hurt more than Draco had expected it to. When he returned to Promises only to find himself denied admittance, Draco began to get angry.Complaining bitterly to Pansy the next day, he was shocked when she interrupted him.

"What did you expect Draco? You used and humiliated him and you expect him to forgive you just like that? Neville doesn't give himself that way to just anyone. He's not the slag you treated him as. Be grateful I've kept Ron away from you because he was quite prepared to do murder with his bare hands when he heard what you said. If you'd wanted a whore you'd have done better to visit Knockturn Alley than to treat one of his closest friends with less respect than you'd give one of the boys littering the street."

Dazed, Draco had taken himself off home and spent the entire night – and the next several days – thinking through every aspect of the situation.

A month to the day he'd claimed Neville against the wall of Promises, Draco stepped into the magical glasshouse intent on getting back what he'd so foolishly discarded. He'd blithely ignored the clerk who attempted to stop him, determined to see Neville and say what he'd come to say. He found him in the very back of the glasshouse tending wild fairy roses and stopped to watch him work.

"I know you're there, Malfoy," Neville said coldly without turning from his task. "Your supplies have been left at the front desk, you can retrieve them there." He'd been foolish enough to believe he'd meant more to Malfoy than just a conquest, but he knew better now. Malfoy had made sure of it although Neville had to wonder about Malfoy's constant effort to speak to him.

Trying desperately not to give in to his frustration, Draco said as calmly as possible, "I've come to apologise."

Neville did turn at that, standing and facing Draco, eyes cold. "Why? 'A fuck is a fuck' after all and your curiousity was satisfied enough for you to deem the experience not worth repeating. There's no reason for you to be here save to rub my nose in it," Neville said flatly, anger beginning to bubble in his blood. Bad enough he'd allowed himself to be made a fool off, damned if he was going to stand here and let Malfoy make an even bigger mockery of what he'd felt.

Draco felt the effect of those words like a punch in the gut. Damn but he should have known those words would have come back to haunt him. He sighed. It was clear to him nothing but completely honesty would fix this and he wasn't accustomed to being vulnerable. His desperate need to repeat the experience and more had been what kept him hiding from Neville as long as he had and he was clearly going to have to own up to it.

"Neville," he began only to be cut off.

"You have no right to my given name," Neville stated with quiet dignity. "Say what you came to say and get out."

Feeling wrong footed once more, Draco's anger flared. "Yes, the experience was unsatisfying simply because I would have preferred to have you in my bed, spread beneath me, crying my name. No 'a fuck isn't just a fuck', not with you. I lied, damn it! I lied because I couldn't accept that you – the same person I'd spent so much time belittling before the war – would be the person magic made the other half of my soul."

Neville gasped in shock and opened his mouth to retaliate, but Draco didn't give him a chance.

"Have you any idea how much of a fool I felt once I realised how I sought you out? How desperate I was just to be in the same fucking room with you? Have you any idea how disturbing it was that night after night I dreamt of you? Not just making love to you, but spending time with you, waking with you, sharing my entire fucking life with you? If nothing else, the very least you could do is allow me to make my apology before you throw it in my face," he snarled. He couldn't believe he'd bollixed it up so badly that Neville wouldn't even allow him the small comfort of making his apology.

Neville blinked. "Making love to me?" he asked softly. That implied more than physical release, more than lust. Had Draco meant that or had he not realised what he said? Judging from the sharp jolt of fear that flashed across the grey eyes at his question he suspected Draco hadn't realised what he said. "You want to make love to me?" he pressed, needing to know.

Draco pulled his composure around himself like a cloak and stood haughtily in front of Neville. "So what if I did?"

"Did? As in you no longer wish to?"

The disappointment and hurt that chased themselves around Neville's expressive face undid Draco completely. "Do. Salazar help me, but I do."

Neville stepped forward, right into Draco's space, daring him to admit the truth. "Why?"

Draco closed his eyes. There was no way he could lie to Neville, not now. "Because I love you," he admitted softly, so softly Neville almost missed the words.

"I'm sorry," Neville said; hope tightening his throat and strangling his voice. "I can't have heard you properly. It sounded like you said you loved me?" He'd meant the last to be a statement, but it came out a question instead.

Opening his eyes and taking courage from the hope and naked want he found in Neville's, Draco replied, "I did. I love you, am in love with you." And dear gods but Neville had no idea how much it took for Draco to be able to say the words, to admit to this.

"If you ever treat me that way again, demean what we have even once in jest, this is over," Neville said, quiet strength and determination in every word.

"I won't," Draco promised, meaning it more than he'd meant anything ever in his life.

"See that you don't," Neville replied, then slid both hands into Draco's hair and kissed him with every bit of love, frustration, hurt and pent up desire that had been locked inside him for the last month.

Draco responded blindly, needy hands clamping around Neville's waist as they fought for dominance in the kiss. Shit but he'd missed this, craved it, the cinnamon spice taste of Neville exploding across his tongue, the loam and air smell of him filling his nostrils. No way would he ever willingly give this up again, not ever. He moaned as he felt Neville's hands pull free from his hair and force themselves between their bodies, felt fingers tugging at his shirt and pulling it clear of his trousers. This time it was Neville branding him and Draco wanted it with a passion he'd never be able to explain.

Hungrily, Neville plundered Draco's mouth as his hands slid slowly over warm skin, pushing the material out of the way as he kissed him, claimed Draco the way he'd been claimed that night at the club. He broke the kiss long enough to haul the shirt over his shoulders before he pulled Draco down onto the moss surrounding the flowers he'd been tending when Draco found him.

"Mine," he murmured as he kissed his way down Draco chest, tongue and teeth biting and lapping at small pink nipples, bruising them red before he continued down Draco's torso, stopping to swirl his tongue around the indentation of Draco's navel. He needed this; needed to be in control this time, needed to make Draco feel the complete submission to sensation he'd felt in Draco's arms.

Draco writhed beneath the onslaught, mind bending, thoughts fraying as Neville set out to prove to Draco to whom he belonged. He couldn't think, couldn't see, could only feel as sensation after sensation rocketed through his body. His skin tingled, his teeth ached and he was barely aware of Neville speaking, blind with pleasure to everything but the feeling of his trousers being pulled off along with his shoes and socks.

Draco gasped with shock as cold air hit his body and his eyes flew open. He whimpered at the sight of Neville stripping out of his clothing, aware he was about to be had right there on the greenhouse floor and he ached for it. He shook as Neville plastered his body over Draco's, mouth seeking his once more and taking it with a ferocity that stole Draco's breath from his body. Fucking hell, he was going to die and Neville hadn't even touched him properly yet.

Neville twisted Draco's head to the side and fastened his teeth in the skin just above the hollow to Draco's collarbone and bit hard, immediately sucking the skin into this mouth, not stopping until he fancied he felt the blood vessels break under his tongue. He was determined Draco would never forget this, would be as wrecked by the experience as he had been when Draco walked away from him leaving him leaning against the club wall for support.

He made his way down Draco's body and spread his legs apart, conjuring lube for his fingers and closing his mouth over the head of Draco's straining cock, pushing a finger inside the other man's body as he did so. He sucked hard, promising himself foreplay later and impatiently pushed another finger inside Draco's body, circling them in an effort to stretch the muscle as fast as possible.

Draco cried out with pleasure as Neville's fingers brushed his prostate, pushing his arse against those fingers, needing more and up into the hot mouth sucking him voraciously. "Fucking hell," he groaned. "More… fuck more," he begged, unmindful of how needy he sounded.

It was too much, Draco sprawled beneath him, arching and begging and Neville pulled his fingers free, slicking himself with what was left and pushing inside Draco with one long, hard thrust. Both men cried out as their bodies joined and overwhelmed, Neville stilled his hips and leaned down to take Draco's lips once more; sucking, biting, licking, teasing, branding Draco as surely as if he'd tattooed his name on Draco's skin.

Draco wrapped his legs wantonly around Neville's hips, clenching his muscles, begging with his body for Neville to please fucking move. He was coming apart. He didn't do this, didn't beg, had never wanted the way he found himself wanting right this second and he was convinced if Neville didn't move soon he would die from the need of it.

Spurred on by Draco's arse clutching at his cock, Neville moved, pulled his hips back and slammed brutally back in. This was going to be fast and he knew it, didn't care as he repeated the move over and over, driving into Draco so hard his body moved forward with each thrust until they were crushing the roses, the scent rising to fill the air they breathed.

Close, he was so close, he was going to come just like this, on Neville's cock alone and Draco's sense spun with the need to come. He was babbling, begging, unaware of the words of need and love pouring from his lips and his body tensed, his vision grayed, his legs and arse tightened around Neville as he came, pulse after pulse of thick fluid erupting from him.

The feel of Draco coming around him, under him broke the last of Neville's control and his thrusts went erratic as his own orgasm raced through him like lightning. He slumped over Draco's body when it was done, exhausted, heart pounding in his chest as though he'd been in the middle of a battle for his life, breath harsh and rasping through his mouth and nose.

It took a while for them both to come down, for Neville to pull slowly from Draco's body and shift slightly to the side, all he had energy for at that point. "We ruined the roses," he panted before lifting his head a little to look at Draco. "Alright there?" he asked, unable to believe how thoroughly debauched Draco looked, but feeling absurdly satisfied that he'd been the one to reduce the normally collected man to the well fucked wreckage before him.

"I think you broke me," Draco replied, eyes slitting open to land on Neville's face, only to widen as they caught the flush rising in Neville's cheeks. "How can you blush after the thorough way you just ravaged my body?" he asked, surprised.

Neville ducked his head into the crook of Draco's necked as he responded. "I've never lost control like that before. I don't know what came over me exactly," he confessed, the heat of his blush burning into Draco's skin.

Draco chuckled softly, glad he hadn't been the only one to loose all sense of where and who he was. "I'm irresistible," he said smugly. "It happens all the time, men vying for my attention, losing all sense of self in an effort to claim me."

A short bark of laughter escaped Neville before he could help it. "You're incorrigible is what you are," he replied, lips curving into a contented smile.

"Hmm, arrogant and insufferable too, but yours if you want me," Draco said softly.

"Mine," Neville replied, shifting so he could smile down at Draco. "I like that." Unable to resist he added, "I think I'll keep you."

Draco laughed, more determined than ever to never let this man go. "Will you now? Think you can keep up?"

Neville smirked. "You'll break before I will," he promised.

"We've the rest of our lives to find out," Draco said, far more assuredly than he felt. He wanted that - forever with Neville - and desperately hoped Neville wanted the same.

'We will," Neville affirmed, bending his head to place a gentle, promising kiss on Draco's lips. Wrapped in each other's arms both men fell asleep, Draco thinking to cast a privacy charm moments before he fell into slumber. Neither man was aware of the soft blue light surrounding them, twining between their bodies until it gleamed a brilliant green, the potion binding their souls together as tightly as they were wrapped around each other.

~ Finis ~