Neville ran headlong through the open door and pushed it closed behind him, leaning on the oaken portal as it slowly morphed into stones to match the walls surrounding it. The sensation was that of a caress, or perhaps he only thought so because of what he'd just seen.
He took a deep, calming breath. That had been entirely too close for comfort. In his defense, he'd been shocked, and then mesmerized.
He'd never seen anything like it—thought about it, yes. Once or, er, twice… But he'd never actually seen it in practice, and he'd seen plenty while using the stealth spell that Luna had created for him.
The jaunts outside of the Room had become a sort of test of will for him. Because, apart from the need for food, it would have been too easy to stay in his haven, safely hidden away until it was all over.
And that was unacceptable.
So, Neville ventured out, usually in the late evenings, and as a result had received an entirely different sort of education.
Merlin, if it were anyone else, he might've dropped his trousers, right then and there, and wanked along with them.
Too much. It was too much, and Neville ripped his robes open and unfastened his trousers as he strode into the Room. He fell to his knees in front of the sofa, finishing the job as he pushed his pants and trousers down in one swift movement.
It shouldn't have been sexy. Crabbe and Goyle were absolutely not sexy. But the way they were together like that: big, muscular bodies, thrusting roughly and yet tender with each other at the same time, had been the most incredible thing he'd ever seen. And it had fairly well solidified the issue of Neville's sexuality—which had been not so much in question, as intentionally hazy—and he was desperate to commit every thrust, every kiss, every sigh to memory.
A round, smooth-surfaced object was suddenly in his hand.
His old Remembrall—or one just like it.
Neville laughed breathlessly and said aloud, "Not quite what I had in mind, but thank you."
Whether or not the Room was sentient enough to understand, Neville did not know.
The small glass orb was filled with red smoke, as it was whenever something needed remembering, and it had always seemed to Neville that it should be hot to the touch because of it. Quite the opposite was true.
It was always cool, and this inspired Neville to roll the thing over the heated skin of his chest, particularly the peaking nipples, which was an interesting sensation, but not nearly enough.
Neville couldn't say what inspired him, curiosity maybe, but he suddenly had a thought that was so bizarre and yet so completely naughty, it caused his throbbing prick to become even harder in his hand.
He would need lubricant.
Without warning, Neville had the oddest sensation in his arse—he felt wide open, and, well, slick.
There was a spell for that? He wished he knew what it was; there was so much he didn't know about sex.
With a thump, a large book landed on the sofa in front of him, titled Wizard Love: Everything you ever wanted to know about wizards who love other wizards but were afraid or too embarrassed to ask, for obvious reasons. And it's illustrated!
He thought he was beginning to understand how the Room worked, and so concentrated very hard on his dire need to keep this book very handy for later reading, then got back to his more immediate need.
Now that his arse was prepared for it, he reached between his cheeks and inserted the Remembrall, pressing it in as far as he could.
He thought the spell that opened him up had felt odd, but it was nothing compared to having a foreign object inside, and he had to clench a bit to make certain it wasn't expelled.
Maybe if it were bigger…oh!
The Remembrall expanded within him, pressing against something inside Neville that made him see stars.
Lubricant, he needed more lubricant. A dollop of the slick substance appeared in Neville's hand, and as he stroked it onto his cock, the subtle scent of bergamot reached his nose.
He stroked more firmly, sliding his hand up the shaft, twisting over the sensitive head then sliding back down. It was a well-established pattern of movements, familiarity in a time when everything he knew had been heaved into chaos.
Neville let his mind wander to past days, to his dorm room. The smell of spunk, the hormone-drenched atmosphere, as they wanked behind their bed curtains, and by unspoken but mutual agreement, without any soundproofing charms. He missed them, keenly—their camaraderie for certain—but at this moment, he missed more the slap slap slap of hands on hardened flesh, the little noise that Harry made just before he came, the low grunt that Dean always made, the short series of pants from Seamus. The only one who'd never made a sound was Ron, but Neville thought with Fred and George as brothers, stealthy wanking was likely a matter of survival.
In his mind, his fantasies, the sounds were always louder: for some reason the sounds of passion, of sex, made him incredibly hot.
Suddenly, the Room provided it for him.
Crabbe's, "Harder, Greg! Ungh, fuck me harder!"
Goyle's, "So tight, Vince!"
And the kissing and the squelching and slap of muscular thighs against muscular arse were overlapping with the sounds of his dorm and even some of his fantasies, filling the Room.
A cacophony of sex.
Merlin, it was so fucking hot, and he concentrated on Harry's voice, which was now calling out, "Neville, yeah, don't stop. Oh god, Nev. Fuck me harder. Yes!"
And Neville's hips thrust wildly into his tight fist and the Remembrall pressed against that spot inside him and his hand tightened further and moved faster and harder and finally he abandoned himself to raw, mindless need, until he shattered, crying out, long and low.
His cock gave one last valiant twitch, and he blacked out, falling against the sofa in front of him.
When he awoke, Neville was on a soft bed and wearing his pyjamas. The Remembrall lay next to him on the bed along with his wand. And the book.
He might have thought it an incredibly vivid dream, if his bum hadn't felt so… odd. Neville grinned slyly. Now that he knew what the Room could do, he had some very wicked plans to make.
"Lumos," he said, casting enough light to read by, and grabbing the book, he got down to doing some research.