Author's note:

It was a challenge.

I am so, so sorry.

I Hate Everything About You

Why do I love you?

Neville was sweating over a steaming cauldron. The liquid had a sickly greyish colour. Neville flipped a few pages in his copy of Advanced Potion Making, looking for any further guidelines, but he knew he was only wasting more precious time-a few pages in the book were glued together by one of his earlier potion escapades, so half of the instructions were gone for good.

Neville bit his lip and looked around, but none of his classmates seemed eager to help him. He sighed.

"Neville!" Hermione whispered.

Neville turned to her, eyes wide with hope.

Hermione glanced at the front of the classroom, where Snape was going through first graders' homework.

"You have to add 6 cockroach legs, 9 crushed snake fangs and then stir clockwise three times."

"I, umm, thanks, 'Mione," Neville smiled at her, but she had already turned back to her own potion, that was producing small green puffs of smoke.

9 crushed snake fangs. But he had already added those 10 minutes ago. Neville stood up and went to the supply cabinet. He dug out the box labelled "Cockroaches" and took out a few. He started to walk back to his seat, inspecting the dried creatures on his palm; passing by the Slytherin's table, he suddenly tripped and sent cockroaches flying all over the floor.

"Mr. Longbottom!" Snape instantly appeared by his side, crushing one cockroach under his shiny black shoe. "Is there a reason for you sliding on the floor and snivelling like a baby? If you're thinking of making cleaning your career, I must disappoint you; Mr. Filch is the one that cleans up the castle."

A few Slytherins sniggered, while Gryffindors glared at the professor. Neville clenched his jaw, trying to stop the tears that were threatening to spill-his knee hurt pretty badly.

"I'm sorry, Sir," at that moment, Neville hated himself-he hated that his voice was shaking, he hated himself for being incapable of making the simplest potions, he hated himself for being a pathetic, weak, wobbly pile of spineless pudding.

"Are you trying to get a D and fail?"

"Oh, he's definitely trying to get the D," Malfoy whispered, and his Slytherin clique chuckled.

"I'm sorry, Sir," Neville repeated and limped back to his seat. He silently cursed at himself. Why couldn't he stand up to Snape? Why couldn't he stand up to him when he proposed to keep their relationship secret? Why couldn't he stand up to him when he mocked him in front of everyone just a few moments ago?

So many questions, and only one simple answer-because he, Neville Longbottom, is stupid. And he, he knows that. But for some reason that exceeds Neville's understanding, he, Draco Malfoy, the Hogwarts' playboy, loves him.

That, of course, doesn't stop him from openly bullying Neville every time they see each other in public. And yet Neville never had the guts to tell him to stop.

He sighed and went back to him potion. He suddenly realized that he still doesn't have the cockroaches, so he started to get up, his knee painfully throbbing, when Snape spoke up again,

"Mr. Malfoy, would you be so kind and help Mr. Longbottom finish?"

"Alright, Sir. I know he always needs some extra help," Malfoy smirked.

Somewhat nervous, but secretly glad, Neville slumped back into his seat. Malfoy is coming and he's going to take care of everything. Passing by, Malfoy lightly hit him on the shoulder.

The class calmed down, and they worked (Malfoy worked) in comfortable silence.

"Does your knee still hurt?" he silently asked Neville, stirring the potion. He raised his head and Neville saw real concern in those silvery orbs. He nodded.

Malfoy subtly pointed his wand at his knee and murmured a spell. Shiny white light shot out and in the moment's time, the pain was gone and relief washed over Neville. He sighed with content.

"Thank you."

"Anything for my sweetheart," Malfoy said, barely audible, but still enough to make Neville's heart flutter. Malfoy shook his head to get his blond bangs out of his eyes and then sprinkled his own cockroach legs into Neville's cauldron.

Neville didn't reply. He made a silent decision that today, in this class, he will finally gather his courage and confront his boyfriend. He won't give in to him again. Not this time. No matter how many times he calls him "his sweetheart".

"Draco," he whispered.

Malfoy cocked an eyebrow at him, "What now, Longbottom?" He said it quite loudly, warning him not to go that way in public. But for the first time in his life, Neville was confident.

"When are you going to come out, Draco?" Heads started to turn to them. Malfoy subtly shook his head at him, eyes wide.

"When are you going to tell your friends you're dating me?"

A few people laughed, dismissing it as a joke, but most were just waiting for Malfoy's reply.

He began to stutter, "I... What are you rambling on, Longbottom?" But the comeback seemed weak and unconvincing. Neville heard a girl gasp.

"When are you going to tell them that we meet every Friday in the Quidditch locker rooms?"

A soft, dumbfounded bloody hell was heard.

"Well?" Neville raised his eyebrows and a small smile graced his lips.

"Shut the hell up, Longbottom," Malfoy said, his cheeks red. He leaned in, pulling Neville by his gold-crimson tie. For a moment, Neville could see his own reflection in Draco's dilated pupils and in the next moment, Draco Malfoy was kissing him in front of all their friends.

In the background, Hermione screamed, flopped down on the floor and fainted.

Another Author's Note

This is what happens when I avoid doing my homework.

Title by Three Days Grace, characters by JK Rowling. I made up the potion instructions so don't try it at home.

EDIT: ANY SIMILARITIES WITH REAL LIFE PEOPLE ARE PURELY COINCIDENTAL

F.V.-it's not gay porn and please don't kill me

For anyone not familiar with Hogwarts' grading system:

Passing grades

Outstanding [O]

Exceeds Expectations [E]

Acceptable [A]

Failing grades

Poor [P]

Dreadful [D]

Troll [T]