Title: Faith
Author: wook77
Characters: Seamus Finnigan, Neville Longbottom
Rating: barely an R
Warnings: spoilers for DH
Themes/kinks chosen: male fellatio
Word Count: ~1700
Summary: Seamus and Neville take a private moment in the Room of Requirement.
Author's notes: So many thanks to the mods for giving me extra time. Also - thanks to elanorofcastile for the beta job (all remaining mistakes are my own).


Neville taps the edge of the quill against his lips as he thinks of a way to phrase his owl. They can't do this much longer, they're going to break soon. The break is, unfortunately, all too physical and Skele-grow can only regrow the bones, fix the breaks so many times before they have to stop the way they're going now.

Once Luna disappeared, they'd lost the outlet for truth out there in the real world because the Quibbler stopped publishing. The Daily Prophet is less than honest. It's no use, Neville decides, they've no where to turn, no one to turn to. The entire world is living in fear and they're all stuck here under threat of torture.

Seamus touches his shoulder and Neville jumps while his heart races and thuds against his chest. Instead of speaking – never know who's listening when – Seamus leans in and hugs Neville tightly. "It'll be all right. Faith."

Faith. It's a strange word that means more than Neville can possibly think of. Faith in what exactly? Faith in them? Faith in Harry? Faith in the world? Faith in truth and justice and all of that? Faith that good will win out and that might isn't right? Faith that there are heroes out there that will, just like in the comic books, come sweeping in and save the day?

"Faith," Seamus repeats as he squeezes Neville tightly. It's almost like Seamus heard Neville's thoughts because he's answered the swirling questions. Neville needs to keep faith in faith.

"Faith," Neville says back. "Harry'll come through."

"Or you will." It's a quiet vote of confidence and the way it's said – matter-of-factly and simply – does more to instill that faith than any fanfare or parade could ever have done. Seamus believes that he can do what Harry's done for years. It's inspiring, awesome and huge and… and overwhelming. Neville can't answer back, all he can do is cling to Seamus because if he pulls back, Seamus'll see the way that that confidence has shook him so much he's shaking and ready to cry.

Seamus, though, he doesn't get the message from Neville clinging, that Neville doesn't want to look at him and, more importantly, needs to have Seamus not look at him. Instead, Seamus pulls back just enough that they can look at one another. "You can do it, mate."

"No, I can't," Neville admits quietly. Seamus's hand drifts up until he cups Neville's cheek. Leaning into the warmth of that palm, Neville breathes in the scent of Seamus and concentrates on that instead of the way that the feel of Seamus's hand on his cheek makes his gut quiver.

"Fuck that," Seamus breathes out, the puff of air drifting across Neville's lips and he can't help the way his cock leaps to attention. He can feel it pressing against Seamus's thigh and he's mortified, face bright-red and throbbing with his pulse. The pulse that's currently beating against Seamus's thigh and, where's that hole in the ground when you need it? he asks himself as he sees the way that Seamus's expression changes. His mind scrambling for something anything to say to excuse it, make it go away, he doesn't notice that Seamus is kissing him or even that he's kissing Seamus back.

It's like he comes to in the middle of the kiss and it's divine, all that touching with tongue and lips, even the clack of teeth knocking into teeth. His nose is pushed against his face as Seamus presses closer. This is probably the most enjoyable thing he's ever experienced and it's just a kiss.

The demand for air sweeps over him as the kiss goes on and on until, finally, he can't help it, he has to pull back and breathe. In the stillness that follows as they pant, a hairsbreadth away from one another, Neville can hear the way his heart is pounding against his chest and when he rests his hand on Seamus's chest, he can feel the echoing thumps. Seamus's hand is still on his cheek while the other is holding on to his neck, almost as if he's afraid that if he lets go, Neville will pull back or deny him somehow.

"Did that just happen?" Neville asks and instantly feels dumb.

"Yeah, it did," Seamus answers. Neither move away. After a few long drawn-out moments (hours, they wait for hours, they have to with the way that Neville's strung so tight), Seamus asks, "Want it to happen again?"

"Yeah, you?"

Seamus responds by pressing their lips together. This kiss has a bit more teeth, a bit less care, but Neville doesn't much mind because there's more hands and skin, too. Seamus's hair tickles at his palm as he thrusts his hand into Seamus's hair while his other hand – the one pressed to Seamus's heart – fumbles with the buttons. Seamus has a bit more success with the whole removing-the-shirt thing as Neville can feel the cool air of the surrounding room dance across his bared chest. It's so cold that he shivers (it can't be that he's so fucking turned on or that a need for Seamus is so deep under his skin making him hot).

Breaking the kiss long enough so he can tug Seamus's shirt over his head, Neville can't help the way his eyes trace the lines and contours of the body he's seen so many times and tried not to notice in this very way. He touches, drifting fingertips across the pale chest and then up along the collarbones before gripping Seamus's neck. His skin is soft, softer than Ginny's or Luna's or even Lavender's.

"Guess I'm just lucky like that," Seamus mumbles against Neville's lips. Mortified that he unwittingly spoke those thoughts out loud, Neville flushes and hides his embarrassment by kissing Seamus's collarbone. "It's all right, Nev. Really."

"It's a dumb thing to say."

"Yeah, well, it is," Seamus agrees, making Neville's blush flare again, "but it's honest and that's the important bit."

Neville can't move for fear that he'll embarrass himself even further. He's pushed away far enough and then Seamus's fingers tickle his chest as he pushes Neville's shirt off. Then they're bare chest to bare chest and Neville mouths his collarbone and then his shoulder before moving back along the collarbone and up the neck while Seamus nips at his ear, his shoulder.

The hand on his trousers is quite insistent, pulling at them and opening them. The cold air brushes his sensitive skin and he shudders. It's enough of an opening that Seamus takes the opportunity to push him backwards, into one of the hammocks here in the Room of Requirement. His legs are hanging over the edge while his back is bent at an unnatural angle. As he struggles to extricate himself from the fabric, Seamus puts a hand on his hip and holds him steady. "Faith, Nev, just a bit of faith."

Neville nods and then Seamus kneels down and then tips the hammock, making Neville sit upright with his trousers tangled about his knees. It's an embarrassing position but he does what Seamus asked and gives a bit of faith that he's not quite the idiot that he thinks he appears.

"What the bloody – " he starts to say though it comes out garbled and a series of noises because, before he could realise or even think of the possibility, Seamus has sucked his cock deep into his mouth. "Bloody, bloody hell, what are you doing?"

Seamus doesn't answer except to look up and wink as he pulls back and then slides down again, a slow torturous movement that leaves Neville panting. He starts to let go of the hammock only to find himself off balance. He wants to touch Seamus, dammit, but the second he lets go, the hammock misbalances and then Seamus has to stop what he's doing. That's not something that Neville can even conceive of right now considering that all of his concentration is on Seamus, the wet heat of his mouth, the way he watches Neville watching him and the fabric in between his fists.

"I can't believe you're doing this, I can't believe it, can you?" He asks rather stupidly. In his defence, his brain melted into his cock about half a second after Seamus started sucking him off and it was rather lost from all the snogging right before that. Considering that about ten minutes ago, he'd been wondering how he'd take care of everyone that's been moving into the Room of Requirement and now he's getting a blowjob for the first time in his life – and by Seamus of all people – well, he figures he'll be forgiven for making stupid comments.

Seamus answers, a hum along his cock and Neville cries out at the sensation. He's chanting in his head, can't come just yet, can't come, not twelve anymore, can't come, oh god, his mouth, the tongue, oh god so hot so wet so perfect if this is what a blowjob is really supposed to be I want one every day for the rest of my life please and… and his orgasm sweeps over him before he can finish the chanting in his head.

"Oh merlin," he breathes out as his entire body flushes bright red. Seamus laughs as he stands up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Neville's flush deepens as Seamus laughs but that laugh tastes wonderful as Seamus kisses him, sending them both sprawling backwards into the hammock. They're never going to get out of this thing with the way that they're all tangled and twisted.

"That's all right, I can handle that."

Neville curses as he realises that he's just spoken his inner thoughts out loud. Again.

"It's all right, Nev. Gotta say I'm right talented with me tongue in more ways than you think. I take it as a compliment," Seamus says as he leans in and kisses Neville. "You could touch me back, though, that'd be lovely."

Neville thinks this is just about the best idea ever. He's quite proud of the fact that his hands barely shake as he touches Seamus, hand drifting down his back and then pushing between fabric and skin to cup his arse. Neville quips, as he gives that arse a squeeze, "Told you, you just have to have a bit of faith and it'll work out just fine."

As always, I'd love to hear what you thought.