Written for uniquepov for the 2012 run of hp_porninthesun. The title of this fic comes from a quote by C. JoyBell C. - "You only need one man to love you. But him to love you free like a wildfire, crazy like the moon, always like tomorrow, sudden like an inhale and overcoming like the tides. Only one man and all of this." I'd like to thank all those extra pairs of eyes that have taken a look at this - blossomdreams, for all your cheerleading, writcraft for the generous Britpick offer and all the pompom waving while I angsted and flailed over the writing process, and steamyaffair for the last-minute and speedy beta work.

I do not own or claim to own anything Harry Potter-related and make no profit from the writing of this fic, so please don't sue me.

Someone yanked at Harry's hair, pulling him off his back and up to his feet to drag him a short distance. His feet scrambled for purchase as he stumbled along a few steps; his arms moved up to scratch and claw at the arm of the man pulling him. He dug his feet into the dirt in an effort to slow his progress, but it did little good, and in a matter of seconds, he realized they had stopped moving. The hand in his hair jerked sharply and he was knocked off balance, struggling to focus through the slits of his eyes at whoever was in front of him as he was forced down into a sitting position.

Rough hands grasped his wrists and yanked his arms behind his back, and the blurry form in front of him moved to wind a thick rope around him. The rope wrapped around his chest and back several times, pulling tight until it dug uncomfortably into his skin and pinned his arms in place. Harry could feel the rope being tied off, the knot wedged up against his upper arm, just beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. The hands holding his wrists released him and he immediately began jerking at his arms until he could feel a bruise forming from the knot pressing into him, finding no give at all in the ropes.

Laughter rumbled overhead from the group of men surrounding him, and then someone grabbed Harry's hands again. Not the same man as before – his hands weren't as rough – but his grip was just as tight, and he managed to hold Harry still even when he began to struggle. Another piece of rope began twining around his wrists, the texture of it rough and scratchy against his skin. A knot wedged awkwardly between his wrists to secure the rope, and then Harry felt his hands being let go again. For the second time, he started to struggle; jerking at his arms with violent force, but there was no sign of any give in either rope.

When he finally settled down, his breathing was ragged and he could feel the skin beneath either rope rubbed raw. Closing his eyes and trying to shut out the sound of voices around him, Harry focussed on testing the ropes, straining his arms against the one wound around his chest, first. He did the same with his wrists before admitting to himself how sturdy they were – not something he'd be able to just break free of. Twisting his hands, he brushed his fingers over the knot between his wrists, a shudder rippling through him as he traced the curve of the rope where it wrapped around itself.

He began to shift, pulling at his arms again, but no longer with the same desperate desire to be free. Instead, he tugged against the ropes just to feel them rubbing against his skin. To feel the helplessness. His breath quickened as he moved, and he bent himself forward a little, rubbing his legs together when his cock began hardening and his struggling turned into something much more like writhing.

A low voice rumbled in his ear, startling him, but he couldn't place the voice. It wasn't Greyback, or the one he assumed was Scabior, he was certain of that, and the voice sounded familiar, although he couldn't quite place it. Then a hand pressed between his shoulders, feeling hot and rough even through the fabric of his shirt, and trailed down lower over his back. Harry shuddered under the touch and caught himself arching his back beneath it as the hand moved right back up along his spine, repeating the gesture as though soothing him.

His brow knitted at that, a confused sound slipping past his lips as the hand continued moving up and down over his back. The murmuring in his ear grew steadily louder. Clearer. Someone saying his name and making a soft, shushing sound...

Harry's eyes snapped open as Neville's hand continued sliding over his back, feeling him pressed against his side with his head tucked into the crook of Harry's neck. The soft rumble of his voice continued until Harry lifted his head up, turning it and laying back down against the pillow. Neville's bedside lamp was flicked on, casting a pale glow to break through the darkness in their bedroom, and Harry squinted a moment until his eyes adjusted to the light.

"Hey..." Neville murmured, offering Harry a small smile. He moved his hand up to brush a few stray strands of hair back off Harry's forehead, then turned it to press his palm against Harry's cheek when he leaned into the touch.

"Hey," Harry echoed, his own voice still rough with sleep, while Neville's had been clear, if a little soft and still tired sounding. Reaching one hand up, he laid it against Neville's hand on his cheek and squeezed. "Sorry if I woke you."

Neville shook his head, leaning over to kiss his temple. "Don't be," he said softly. There was a pause, and then, "Do you want to talk about it? The nightmare?"

Nightmare, Harry thought, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from giving a rueful smile. They weren't exactly nightmares any longer, not that Neville would know that. It had started out that way, of course. Tossing and turning half the night in bed, and waking up in a cold sweat, hyperventilating and clinging to Neville until he calmed down. Neville had had them, too, for a while, leaving them clutching each other some nights until the first rays of sunlight broke through the curtains into the bedroom. But Neville's had become less frequent as time went on, and it was now a rare occurrence for Harry to wake to Neville thrashing on his side of the bed. Harry's had faded as well, morphing into something else that was possibly worse. Something he couldn't discuss with Neville, or anyone for that matter.

Shaking his head, Harry gave Neville an appreciative smile anyway, thankful for the fact he'd stayed on his front during the dream so Neville couldn't see the erection tenting the front of his pyjama bottoms. "Same old thing, really." He lifted up a little to get a look at the clock beneath Neville's lamp and cringed at the time. "Why don't you go back to bed? I'll just go down to the sofa for a bit."

"No," Neville said, a note of pleading in his tone. "Stay, please?"

Harry hesitated, but even in the dim light, he could see the look in Neville's eyes and nodded. Turning partly onto his side, he waited while Neville reached back to flip off the lamp, then shuffle up closer to Harry's back. Harry cuddled back against his chest as he closed his eyes, catching Neville's hand as his arm wrapped around him, and lacing their fingers together to settle their entwined hands over his stomach. He murmured a goodnight to Neville, listening to the sound of his breathing for several minutes until it levelled out. Neville's hand, still clasped in his own, eased its grip as he fell back asleep, and Harry carefully moved his arm from around him, slipping his hand free of Neville's as he slid off the bed.

Bending down, he picked up his rumpled shirt off the floor and tugged it on over his head and cast one last look at the bed to be sure he hadn't disturbed Neville again before quietly padding out of the room. The stairs creaked a bit as he made his way down from the third to second floor, and Harry took it slow just to be safe, straining his ears a moment when he reached the landing. When the house around him remained silent, he breathed a soft sigh of relief and continued down the second flight to the entrance hall, and down another to the kitchen in the cellar of Grimmauld Place.

He heard a stirring sound from Kreacher's cupboard as he stepped into the kitchen, but when the door began to creak open, Harry waved a hand to dismiss him immediately. The cupboard shut again and Harry set the kettle to boil on the range. Then he dragged a chair away from the table, across the stone floor, and straddled the seat, folding his arms along the back of the chair and resting his chin on his arms while he watched the kettle. It had become an almost routine practice over the past few months, some nights with him falling asleep again while just waiting for the kettle, or at the table with his hands curled around a cup of tea. Other nights, he managed to make it back to bed before Neville woke, though he always seemed to know when Harry had gotten up, either way.

After a few moments, Harry began tapping one foot against the stones while he waited, letting his mind wander back to the dreams. He could almost call them memories, if not for the fact that they were different. His face was still painful. Puffy. The skin pulled tight, with his eyes all but swollen shut. He still heard the Snatchers' voices overhead. But the important bits – Hermione and Ron on either side of him, or Dean at his back – had changed. He struggled more, and there was no longer a trip to Malfoy Manor in store for him as the dreams progressed. It was actually quite rare that he stayed asleep for too long once they began, but even on the longer nights, Harry had the impression that the Snatchers would never pull him up off the ground.

In fact, once he was bound, they never even seemed to touch him. If he looked, he would manage to make out the blurred and unfocussed form of a pair of legs here or there, always facing towards him as though watching, but no hands reached out to grab him. The only times he felt the slightest caress was when Neville's touch would invade the dreams if he started thrashing around. It was a relief, however small, knowing that his subconscious hadn't been hiding some secret desire to be abused. That had been his first fear when the dreams began, that he might feel Greyback's hands pawing at him. Or Scabior's. Any foreign hands that meant him harm. But it had never happened, and even when Neville would stroke his hand over his back to sooth him, and he felt the same hand on him in the dream, it was clear even in his clouded mind that the touch was not coming from one of the Snatchers, and was never rough or threatening.

While the fact that there was never any sort of progression to the dreams – being carted off to Malfoy Manor or some other terrible fate – was comforting, it left Harry feeling concerned and uncomfortable upon waking. The focus always seemed to be those bloody ropes, wrapped around him until he couldn't move. Leaving him helpless and struggling, but with a distinct lack of fear. He always fought, yes, but there was never a sense of desperation when he did. No panic or real need to break free, only the instinctive reaction to struggle when his body was restrained.

It was almost as if he didn't mind being bound. Wanted it, even.

The thought that perhaps that was the case had disturbed Harry from the start, and he'd tried hard to find some other explanation. The more the dreams went on, though, the harder it became to find some other reason behind them. It was always the same pattern – the Snatchers would catch him alone and tie him up. And once he stopped his initial struggling and began simply testing and straining against the ropes, his body would react. A shudder here. A bitten-back moan there. Until his movements would turn into writhing and he would wake feeling flushed and aroused and, above all, completely ashamed.

It was never directly sexual in the dreams, or at least it never seemed to be. With no one touching him, Harry found it hard to think of it as a sexual experience, no matter what his prick seemed to think when he would wake. He wasn't being restrained to a bed, or bound and taken. He was always just tied up. Fully clothed, with coarse ropes rubbing against his skin. It wasn't about sex, at least not inherently. Harry had the impression he would be perfectly content being restrained just for the sake of being helpless for a while, if he could ever really allow himself to admit that he wanted it at all. But it had so much potential to be something sexual. Something submissive. And, in some ways, that frightened him more than anything.

The sound of the kettle whistling startled Harry out of his thoughts, and he moved up off his chair to pull down the tea from the cupboard over the sink.

"Pour one for me, would you?" asked Neville's voice from the doorway, just as Harry was reaching up for a mug. Twisting to look over his shoulder, Harry nodded and watched Neville crossing towards the kitchen table.

"Did I wake you again?" Harry asked as he pulled down a second mug and set it down on the counter. Out of the corner of his eye, as he set to fixing and pouring both their tea, he saw Neville shake his head.

"Was still up when you got up, but the bed's too cold without you. Thought I'd come down and keep you company."

Harry smiled at that, dragging his chair back up to the table with one foot as he turned away from the counter with both mugs in hand. He placed his down, then reached across to set Neville's in front of him, leaning over the table enough to brush their lips together. "Thank you," he murmured as he pulled back and dropped himself down into his chair. "I'm sorry I keep waking you up like this, though. I know you probably don't want to be up at this hour any more than I do."

"Harry, I could really care less about what hour it is." Reaching across the table, Neville brushed his fingers across Harry's knuckles, waiting for Harry to turn his hand palm-up to clasp it in his own. "I'm a whole lot more concerned about you. Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

Dropping his gaze down to their clasped hands, Harry hesitated, stroking his thumb along the side of Neville's hand. It wouldn't be easy to open up about it, that much was certain. He wasn't even certain that he was ready to accept it for himself, let alone ask Neville to, and Harry had no way of knowing whether or not he would be able to accept it. Neville would give anything to the people he cared for, but even his loyalty would surely have its limits. Something like this could easily be pushing them, as far as Harry knew.

Finally shaking his head, he gave a light squeeze of Neville's hand and raised his gaze up to meet his eyes again. "There really isn't anything to tell that you haven't heard before a hundred times. The Snatchers..."

Neville made a noise of understanding and nodded. It was the closest Harry ever came to explaining – when they had still been nightmares, 'the Snatchers' meant dreams of what could have happened when Ron, Hermione, and he were caught by them. What Greyback could have done to them, or what would have happened at Malfoy Manor, had it not been for Dobby. Those two words were enough for Neville to assume now why Harry tossed and turned during the night when the dreams came, and he never prodded him for further explanation.

Instead, he toyed with his mug for a moment with his free hand, leaving the other clasping Harry's and allowing silence to settle between them. That Neville allowed the conversation to drop without pressuring him for details that he wasn't prepared – or willing – to give was comforting, and despite the confusion of his thoughts and emotions, the silence between them was comfortable. Their hands stayed clasped while both of them slowly worked their way through their cups of tea, until finally, his mug empty, Harry dared a glance at the wall clock and grimaced.

"You should go on back to bed, Neville," he murmured, releasing Neville's hand and reaching to pick up his mug, as well as his own, and deposit them both in the sink.

"Only if you're coming with me."

Harry shook his head at that, but Neville's expression was determined. "Really, love, I couldn't if I tried. I'm pretty much up for the day at this point, I think. Might go on in to work now; get a jump on the day."

"It's half-three," Neville said in a tone of disbelief. "You've already been up half an hour. By the time you're dressed and ready to go, you're talking of going in two hours early."

"Means I could get off two hours early, though," Harry pointed out with a shrug. To his relief, Neville cracked a faint smile even as his tone held a note of exasperation.

"And you'll be dead tired by the time you make it in for the night at that rate. But, I suppose if you're up as it is, you might as well." Pushing his chair back from the table, Neville stood and offered a hand out to Harry, who took it and allowed himself to be pulled closer. "We can both go in early. It's Friday anyway, if we're exhausted tonight, we still have all weekend together, uninterrupted," Neville said, pressing a kiss to Harry's cheek and offering him a smile. "At least this way, we can still get home about the same time, yeah?"

Returning Neville's smile, Harry nodded and turned in towards him, wrapping his arms around Neville's neck and hugging him tightly for a moment. "Yeah," he agreed in a whisper, pressing a kiss of his own to Neville's jaw before he pulled back. "Thank you. For understanding..."

Neville brought his hand up, and Harry leaned into the touch as he pressed his palm against his cheek. "Anything for you."

Despite the way his gut twisted at the words, Harry forced his smile to widen as he turned his face to brush his lips against Neville's palm, and then stepped back. "Do you want the shower first, or shall I?" he asked, and Neville made a shooing gesture.

"You get it first. I'll do up the dishes from tea and set something on for breakfast. Should be done by the time you're finished in the shower, and then I'll hop in."

Harry nodded and leaned in to press their lips together in a brief kiss. "Love you," he murmured, feeling Neville smile against his lips.

"Love you, too," Neville said as they broke apart, once again waving his hand to shoo Harry off. "Now get going. And save me some hot water!" he called out as an afterthought as Harry made his way back up the stairs.

Harry frowned at the report in front of him, tapping the inked end of his quill on his desk as he read and then re-read the page several times. "Ron!" he called out, loud enough for his voice to carry out through his open office door. He looked up expectantly, then noticed the blots of ink on the wood of his desk from all his tapping, cleaning them up with a quick flick of his wand just as his door swung further inward to admit Ron.

"You know, most department heads use a PA or memos to get someone's attention."

Grinning, Harry waved Ron into the office and gestured him towards the chair opposite the desk from him. "Yeah, but what fun would that be? Lets out a lot more frustration this way, giving me an excuse to yell."

"Right," Ron said, laughing as he pulled the chair out and dropped himself down onto it, crossing his legs at the knee and leaning against the back of the chair. "So, what can I do for you today, mate? Or is this Auror business?"

"Auror business, I'm afraid," Harry answered, passing the report across the desk to Ron. "Could you tell me what this is all about?"

Ron only glanced at the report for a moment before he laughed. "The Wright case? Merlin, that was a strange one." He tossed the report back onto the desk and gave Harry a curious look. "What do you need to know?"

"Just... what happened?" Harry asked, looking down at the report again and then back at Ron. "It doesn't make a lot of sense, really, from where I'm sitting."

"To be honest, it didn't make a whole lot of sense from where we were when we got there, either," Ron admitted with a grin. "Got the call at about half-past midnight, I think it was. Luna had me up helping her with some last minute edits on the next edition, anyway, so at least I didn't wake up for it. Seamus and I went out and spoke to the bloke and his wife about what happened. She actually left him just how she found him until we got there, so we wound up with the full view – ropes wrapped halfway up his arms and legs. Honestly, it's lucky he was on his front, or I think we'd have gotten a bit more of an eyeful than we really wanted.

"His wand was just barely out of reach of his hand, and the wife was swearing up and down that someone must have broken in and tried to rob them. Never mind that he was completely starkers, which seems like it'd be a bit odd for a robbery. I guess he'd either told her that whole tale to start with or just ran with it when she came up with it, 'cause he did nothing but agree. Thing was, once we got the ropes off him, he couldn't give us any sort of description for who had tied him up. And neither one of them could tell us anything that was missing or that had even been moved in the whole place.

"I started thinking maybe it was some whole affair situation or something, like he'd been tied up by his mistress or some crazy thing like that, and she'd darted when the wife came home without untying him. But then, he was on his stomach, so that wouldn't have made a whole lot of sense, you know? Unless he was cheating on her with a bloke, but then..." Ron trailed off and shook his head, chuckling softly. "Honestly, I sort of have to worry about what Seamus and Dean get up to, after all that, 'cause it was Seamus who put it together."

"Apparently, the bloke was doing some self-bondage stuff. Casting a localised Incarcerous on his limbs, you know? Legs first, and then one arm, swapped the wand to his other hand, and then did the other arm. He was on his stomach so he could... you know..." Ron pulled a face. "Rub. Against the bed. Anyway, he lost his grip on his wand sometime during, and couldn't get his hand on it again. Was stuck like that 'til his wife got home, and I guess that's not their usual sort of bedroom play, so he went along with whatever assumption she first jumped to. I guess he didn't think she'd just leave him like that till we got there. Bloody crazy, isn't it?"

"Yeah..." Harry agreed, studiously avoiding Ron's eyes as he nodded. Ron didn't seem to notice, much to his relief, and after a moment, Harry shook his head to clear it and picked up the report again, glancing at it once and then placing it on top of the 'finished' stack. His mind was racing with the possibilities of what he'd just heard, but he forced those thoughts to the back of his mind as best he could as he looked at Ron. Pulling his face into an expression of curiosity, he leaned forward slightly across his desk. "So Seamus figured that out? I mean, Seamus knows about that sort of thing, then?"

Ron laughed and nodded, his chair his chair onto its back legs and propping his feet up on the corner of Harry's desk. "Seems like it. I mean, he didn't really take too long to figure all that out. Made a comment after, when I asked him about it, about being pretty familiar with things like that. Not sure if that means it's his sort of thing, or Dean's, or maybe both." He gave an exaggerated shudder. "Honestly, mate, I'd really rather not think about that any further. Not my sort of thing, you know? Don't need to know about their bedroom life any more than they'd want to know about mine and Luna's."

Despite himself, Harry laughed. "I suppose that's true. All right," he said, sighing and clapping his hands together. "I should send you back off to work, yeah?"

"Oh, I don't know," Ron said, although he righted his chair and pushed himself to his feet anyway with a good-natured grin. "You could always give me the rest of the day off, being the boss and all."

Returning the grin, Harry shook his head and made a shooing gesture. "Nice try, there, Ron."

"Hey, it's always worth a shot."

Ron shrugged and made his way out of the office, and Harry waited a moment before waving his wand to close the door behind him. With a sigh, he leaned heavily against the back of his chair, passing a hand over his eyes and reaching it up to run his fingers through his hair. Seeing the report had pushed his dreams to the forefront of his mind, and Ron's explanation had done nothing to help him ignore that desire. Though the realization that there was a way that he might be able to experience what he wanted without taking the risk of sharing it with Neville was thrilling and nerve-racking all at once.

Trying it meant admitting that he wanted it, or, at the very least, was curious about it, and that was a step Harry wasn't certain he was willing to take. The fact that Seamus supposedly knew about that sort of thing, however, opened up a new possibility that he hadn't ever considered – he could talk to someone. If not Seamus, then maybe Dean. He could satisfy his curiosity just talking to them, even use the case report as an excuse for why he wanted to know, and they'd be none the wiser.

And maybe, afterwards, he would be able to bring himself to try it by himself.

Harry stared unseeingly at the closed office door for several minutes, turning those thoughts over in his head, before he finally pulled his wand out of a pocket of his robes. Talking to someone, even someone who might understand what it was he wanted, was not an option he was prepared to pursue. But what he still could do was experiment alone, so long as he was careful. Discreet.

With that in mind, Harry pointed his wand beneath the desk, pressing his legs together as he murmured, "Incarcerous."

He watched the ropes shoot from the end of his wand and wrap around his legs, binding them together from ankle to knee. Harry's breath came in soft pants as he tugged against the ropes, even through the fabric of his trousers feeling them pressing into his skin. Pulling his lower lip between his teeth, he bit back a moan and settled, letting himself just feel for a few moments. The ropes were tight around him, immobilizing his legs and offering no signs of give if he struggled. Even with his arms free, there was a sense of helplessness about it; and Harry closed his eyes, taking slow, deep breaths in through his nose. His mind was clearer than it had been all morning, now, although there was still a sense of it not quite being enough. He needed to be more restrained.

Running his tongue across his lips, Harry contemplated his wand in his hand before determinedly placing it on his desk. Doing any more to himself was running too much of a risk of something going wrong or being caught. The prospect of finding himself in a situation similar to Mr Wright was enough to deter him from trying to restrain his hands at all. But with only his legs bound – and those hidden beneath his desk – he felt safe enough to leave himself bound for a while, knowing he would be able to free himself when necessary.

Harry took another few breaths to steady himself before straightening up in his chair and looking at the stack of reports still waiting on his desk to be touched. Pulling one towards him, he started to move one leg in an effort to cross over his other knee, just out of habit, and bit back a groan when the ropes pressed tight against him to hold him in place. He swiped his tongue across his lips and picked up his quill again, clutching it tightly in one hand as he read over the report, signing off on it and pulling another close as he began working his way through what remained of the stack.

Harry was lounging on the sofa when Neville made it home from work. He'd spent much of the remainder of his shift with his legs restrained beneath his desk, releasing himself only long enough to go out for lunch and to attend a meeting just before he'd left for home. After arriving home, he'd exchanged his work clothes for jeans and a t-shirt and tossed himself across the sofa with a book to read and attempt to focus on anything but what he'd been doing in his office all afternoon. But now, with the ropes off, he almost itched with the need for more with every brush of his jeans against his skin. The sound of the Floo flaring to life pulled his attention away from anxiously rubbing his calves together as he stretched his legs out across the sofa cushions again and turned his head towards the fireplace.

"You beat me home, I see," Neville said as he stepped through, smiling at Harry as he toed out of his shoes and left them beside the hearth. "How was work?"

Heat began rising in Harry's cheeks at the question, but he shrugged, turning his focus onto the book in his hands as he marked his place and tossed it onto the coffee table. He hadn't managed to read more than a line or two anyway in all the time since he'd come home. "Same as always, I suppose. You know. Did a load of paperwork, signed off on some reports from last night's cases, that sort of thing, nothing all that interesting."

Moving at Neville's gesture, Harry sat upright for Neville to take a seat against the end of the sofa. Shuffling down a bit further, he laid back again with his head resting in Neville's lap, smiling up at him when his hand settled in his hair. "What about you, love?"

"Other than the Devil's Snare having a bit of a problem with root rot, nothing all that special to speak of," Neville answered, leaning his head back against the sofa with a sigh. His fingers moved through Harry's hair slowly and Harry hummed, turning his face a bit to nuzzle his cheek against Neville's thigh. Both of them were silent for a few minutes, content to sit together and unwind until Neville spoke in a soft murmur, his head still tipped back and eyes closed. "What would you like to do tonight? Anything specific, or shall we just see how we go?"

"Supper and a film, maybe?" Harry suggested. "I could dash off for the takeaway, you pick the film, and we can see how we go from there?" Neville nodded in agreement and Harry sat up, pressing a kiss against Neville's lips as he moved and offering him a smile as he swung his legs over the side of the sofa. He bent forward and pulled his shoes from where he'd kicked them off beneath the coffee table and began pulling them on. "What's your preference then, love?"

"It's been a while since we've had curry. Could go all out, get a good spread. Then we can do leftovers for lunch tomorrow."

Harry smiled, straightening up with his shoes on and leaned over into Neville's side for a moment. "Always the practical one, aren't you?"

"Isn't that why you love me?" Neville teased, twining one arm around Harry's waist, and with a soft laugh, Harry nodded, tipping his head against Neville's shoulder.

"Yeah, must be it."

"Well, as long as we both know why," Neville murmured with a smile. Harry hummed as one of Neville's hands tangled in his hair and allowed his head to be pulled back a bit, responding to Neville's kiss when their lips were pressed together. Breaking apart slowly, Harry leaned up once more to press their lips together for one last moment and then pulled back as Neville gave him a gentle nudge. "Off with you, now. Pick up dinner so we can start the film."

"All right, all right, I'm going," Harry said, reaching out and mussing up Neville's hair on his way past his end of the sofa and towards the Floo. Tossing a pinch of powder into the grate, he called out for Diagon Alley and stepped through in a blur of green flames. The walk out through the Leaky Cauldron and into Muggle London took only a few minutes, and then Harry was traversing the familiar streets to the curry shop he and Neville were so fond of. As he walked, his mind began to wander and he caught his thoughts straying towards the dreams once again and his activities that afternoon.

They seemed to weigh heavier on him, now, after he'd allowed himself to indulge his curiosity. A quiet, niggling voice in the back of his mind began to point out the unfairness of the secret he was keeping from Neville. Kind and loving Neville who, as far as Harry knew, never keptanything from him, and gave Harry everything. It was hardly fair to hold something like this back from him to begin with, let alone now, once he'd realized that it was something he truly did desire. But the more selfish part of himself refused to take the risk of losing Neville by sharing any of it with him – because he was certain, if Neville were to know, that his reaction to what Harry wanted would be to turn and walk away as quickly as he could.

Neville was not that sort of man, to tie up his lover. Not the type to take control of another person like that. He shared every part of their lives equally with Harry. Every decision, from finances to some new addition to the house, be it furniture or plants or anything else, was a joint one, with Neville always asking for Harry's input first. Even in the bedroom, Neville never seemed as though he wanted to really be in control of what happened. He topped happily enough, but he never treated Harry as anything but his equal, and Harry was quite happy with things that way.

Most of the time, his mind corrected.

Shaking his head, Harry pushed those thoughts away. It did him no good at all to dwell on them, knowing that even if he were ready to accept and embrace the things he thought he wanted, he was far too deep in love with Neville to let him go. Harry sighed and pushed open the door to the restaurant, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his denims as he fell into place at the back of the queue. If he needed those things – and that was a remarkably big 'if' in his opinion still, no matter what his activities over the course of the afternoon had suggested – Harry would take care of them himself. Not with the help of anyone else, although he might speak to Seamus or Dean some day, when he felt like he was ready, but no one else ever need know what it is he wanted. Especially not Neville...

Harry returned home nearly half an hour later with two sacks of takeaway boxes in hand. Neville had dimmed the lights in the sitting room while he was away, and Harry looked around with a fond smile at the room before carrying their dinner downstairs to the kitchen.

"You've been hard at work, haven't you?" he asked as he placed the bags on the table and began removing boxes and arranging them on the table beside the bags. Neville turned away from the cupboard with two dusty wineglasses in hand and flashed a grin.

"Thought we could do for a bit of a romantic night in, is all. Is it a bit too much?"

Harry eyed the wineglasses and shook his head with a soft laugh. "Definitely not too much, love. Though I'm not sure we have any wine that'll go well with the curry. Think all we've got left in the wine fridge is the red."

"Actually, I took the liberty of slipping off after you left to pick up a bottle of white," Neville admitted almost sheepishly. Blowing the dust off the rim of one of the glasses, he laughed and set them down, drawing his wand to cast a proper cleaning charm over both of them, leaving the glass clear and shining the way they'd been when they first took them out of the box at least a year earlier. Which, Harry recalled, was likely the last time they had ever even used them.

Shaking his head again, Harry leaned across the table and pressed a kiss to the corner of Neville's mouth. "Have I told you lately how sweet you are?"

"I don't think you have, actually. But it never hurts to hear it."

Neville winked as he pulled back, moving to the cupboards and pulling down dishes for their curry. He took the bottle of wine out of the fridge while he was at it and set it all out on the table while he uncorked the wine. "Do you want to eat here, or shall we sit on the sofa, you think?" he asked, and Harry only thought about it for a moment before breaking into a smile.

"The sofa. Just like our old dates, you know?" He watched Neville's face light up with that and reached out to brush their hands together for one brief moment before he gestured for him to pour the wine. "You pour and get the film rolling upstairs, and I'll take care of the plates, yeah?"

"Yeah," Neville agreed. He caught Harry's hand before he could withdraw completely and brought it up to his lips, kissing the back of his hand and then letting him go so he could pour. Harry ducked his head at the affectionate gesture, feeling his cheeks heating with a flush as he focussed on filling both their plates with generous servings from the takeaway boxes. He stuck the leftovers in the fridge, along with one of the boxes of naan bread and took the second full box up with him, balancing it carefully in the crook of one arm as he carried the plates.

Neville had already made his way up to the sitting room, and as Harry stepped in, he saw the opening credits of the film already rolling. Passing Neville one of the plates, he set the box of naan on the coffee table and sat down on the sofa beside him, half-leaning into Neville's side. He rested his plate in his lap and dug in, watching the television as he ate, letting out a soft laugh when he recognized the film and shooting Neville an adoring smile.

"An Affair to Remember?"

"What can I say? I like Cary Grant," Neville said with a shrug and a grin.

"I prefer Miss Kerr's acting, myself."

"Now who said I was talking about their acting?" Neville asked, and Harry laughed again, bumping his shoulder against Neville's.

"Prat," Harry murmured in an affectionate tone.

Neville chuckled and leaned over to kiss his cheek in reply. "But you love me."

Turning his head, Harry looked at Neville for a moment, watching him sip at his wine and taking in the sight of him in the low lights of the sitting room before he nodded, his eyes soft, and reached one hand over to settle on Neville's knee. "I really do," he whispered, earning himself a smile from Neville. He pulled his hand away after a moment longer and returned his attention to the film.

Neither spoke again as they finished eating, and Harry gathered their dishes together when they had both cleared their plates, sending them floating downstairs to the sink with a wave of his wand. Plucking up his glass of wine from the table, he pulled his legs up onto the sofa cushions, cuddling himself up against Neville's side and leaning his head against Neville's shoulder when his arm wrapped around his waist. He let out a contented hum when he felt Neville's lips press against the top of his head, nuzzling his cheek against him as they settled in to watch the remainder of the film.

Their wine glasses had both been drained by the end, and Harry reluctantly straightened up to set his empty glass down on the low table and reach for the bottle. "More wine, Neville?" he asked, turning to look at Neville over his shoulder. His breath hitched when he saw Neville had moved with him, their faces a scant few inches apart and the distance rapidly closing as Neville leaned in to press their lips together.

A soft moan rumbled in Harry's throat as Neville's hand reached into his hair, pulling him back and holding him as Neville's other arm wrapped around his waist. Parting his lips when Neville's tongue swiped across the seam of them, Harry pressed himself closer to him and darted his own tongue out to tangle with Neville's, tasting the wine and curry on him, mingled with that taste that was distinctly Neville. With Neville's answering moan echoing in his ears, he moved, scrambling over into Neville's lap as he moved to straddle him, placing his hands on Neville's chest and sliding them up to twine his arms around his neck.

"Want to... move to bed?" Harry asked when they separated, his voice breathy with arousal as Neville began trailing kisses along his jaw. Neville hummed against his skin, making no move to pull away.

"In a moment," he murmured, sliding his hands down to Harry's arse and squeezing lightly. "I'm enjoying having you here."

Harry made a soft sound, caught between a laugh and a moan, and pressed himself back into Neville's hands. Grinning, Harry dipped his head and pressed his own lips against Neville's jaw, trailing kisses towards his neck, eliciting a low moan from him. "Could have me like this upstairs, too, you know. In our bed."

Neville hummed, squeezing Harry's arse again as he rocked his hips to grind against him. "That's a very good point. Up with you, then," he said, giving a light swat against one cheek of Harry's arse, flashing him a smile. "Let's get up to bed."

Nodding, Harry leaned in and pressed their lips together once more before he moved, sliding out of Neville's lap to stand. He reached down and caught Neville's hand in his and pulled him to his feet as well, leaning in to bring his lips beside Neville's ear. "Catch me," he whispered playfully, winking at Neville as he stepped back, then turned and darted up the stairs, only making it halfway up the first flight before he could hear Neville coming along behind him.

Strong arms wrapped around Harry's waist from behind only a few steps down the hall once he'd hit the third-floor landing, lifting him up for a moment as he let out a peal of laughter, and then Neville set him on his feet again. Turning in his arms, Harry brought both hands up to cup Neville's face, pressing their lips together in a kiss, murmuring into it, "I love you," and smiling as Neville whispered the words back to him.

"Take me to bed, Neville," Harry said as they broke apart, taking Neville's hand and lacing their fingers together, following along happily as Neville led the way down the hall to their bedroom.

"Hello, Harry!"

Harry looked up at the sound of Luna's voice and smiled, leaning back in his chair as he waved her into his office. "Hello, Luna. Is that what I think it is?" he asked, nodding at the large bundle of magazines Luna was clutching in her arms. She flashed him a smile and stepped closer, placing the stack down on the edge of Harry's desk and slipping one of the magazines off the top, passing it to him.

"This month's Quibbler, fresh off the presses. I already stopped by to deliver Neville's earlier this morning."

"Thanks," Harry said, setting the Quibbler aside as he gestured to the chair across the desk from him. "Sit for a while. Seems like it's been ages since I've gotten to see you."

Luna nodded and nudged her stack of Quibblers to one side as she sat, perching at the edge of the seat and folding her hands in her lap. "How have you been? Neville mentioned the two of you had a good weekend together."

"Yeah, we did," Harry agreed, smiling to himself. He and Neville had spent the remainder of the weekend at home, cuddled up either in bed or on the sofa, talking and watching old films. It was the sort of leisurely thing they could have done any night of the week after both of them were in from work. But spending that leisurely time together, uninterrupted, all weekend long seemed more special, in some ways. Friday night had ended early for both of them, not long after they had fallen into bed together, since their morning had started at such an early hour. They had slept in late on Saturday, and without either of them having to work on Sunday, had stayed up well into the night.

There had been a few times when Neville had been pulled away for an hour to tend to his greenhouses, and Harry had taken advantage of them to experiment with binding his legs again. He had been overly cautious about it, waiting until Neville had been gone for at least fifteen minutes to be sure he wouldn't pop back in to pick up something he'd forgotten, and releasing himself after just twenty or so minutes, in case Neville should finish early – not that he ever had. He'd strictly kept to binding only his legs, despite the temptation to experiment with more, always conscious of the danger of losing his grip on his wand before he freed himself if he were to try restraining his arms.

It had helped, in a strange way, keeping his mind from lingering as much as usual on the dreams, which had thankfully subsided for the weekend. But the feelings of guilt for hiding it from Neville were more powerful for it.

The soft sound of a throat clearing startled Harry out of his thoughts and he flushed, offering Luna a sheepish smile. "Sorry..."

Luna shook her head and stood, leaning down across the desk and pressing a kiss to the top of Harry's head, smiling at him again when he laughed. "I'm glad for the two of you, making each other as happy as you do. You're good for each other."

"Thanks, Luna."

She nodded and scooped up the issues of the Quibbler again, carrying them towards the door. Harry dropped his gaze down to the paperwork on his desk, but when he didn't hear the door close again once Luna opened it, he looked up and saw that she'd paused in the doorway and was watching him. Her head was tipped to the side and she was looking at him with an odd expression that made Harry suddenly uncomfortable.

"Luna?" he asked, doing his best not to shift under her gaze which seemed to see too much, in that way that only Luna could do. She blinked once, slowly, and then again before straightening and adjusting her arms around the stack of magazines.

"You've got Wrackspurts buzzing around you... Don't let them make you do anything silly, Harry."

Luna stepped out of the office before he could reply and Harry only stared at the empty spot where she had stood for a moment before shaking his head. Drawing his wand, he closed the door and, for good measure, threw up a ward as well to give himself some privacy. With a sigh, he leaned heavily against the back of his chair and passed a hand over his eyes.

Don't let them make you do anything silly, Harry.

Shaking his head, Harry dropped his hand onto his desk and tipped his head back to look up at the ceiling.

"Silly would be telling Neville, wouldn't it?" he asked in a murmur to the empty room. Silence answered him, and after a moment, Harry straightened up and pulled his chair closer to his desk. Without thinking, he pressed his legs together, the way he had the first time he'd bound them. When he realized what he'd done, Harry let out a noise of frustration and slapped the quill in his hand down onto the desk with more force than he meant.

He fished his wand out of his pocket as quickly as possible and pointed it beneath the desk, but then hesitated for a moment, taking one deep breath and then another to steady himself. His legs were itching for it again, but he made himself wait until he'd calmed at least a little, shifting back to sit up straighter in his chair. Spreading his legs apart again, Harry pressed them against the front legs of the chair and then – finally – whispered the spell.

The feel of the ropes twining around his legs was an immediate relief.

His breathing levelled out and the frantic beating of his heart slowed. As much out of habit as instinct, Harry strained his legs against the ropes, testing their hold, and sighed in relief when they held him firm. With his mind clearer now, he looked down at his desk and the paperwork still waiting to be done, and nodded to himself, picking one of the scrolls out of his in-box and unrolling it slowly.

"Telling him would be very silly," Harry whispered as he smoothed out the sheet of parchment. "Very silly indeed."

Thursday found Harry leaving work a few hours earlier than usual.

It had been slow going from the start, and as soon as he'd finished the obligatory department meeting for the week, he had been more than happy to call it a day and duck out of the office When he'd arrived home, Neville was nowhere to be seen, not that he was surprised by that. Neville very rarely left his greenhouses early, and was much more likely to leave late than anything.

Shrugging off his robes as he went, Harry made his way upstairs to their bedroom and tossed his robes over the foot of the bed. His button-down, trousers, and pants followed after another moment and he padded into the master bath. He twisted the taps and stepped into the shower, letting out a low moan as the hot water began pounding away at his back and easing the ache in his muscles from the way he'd taken to sitting in his chair at work. He'd spent every day that week settling into a routine of sorts, taking his seat and binding his legs to those of his chair, keeping them that way for the majority of his shift.

He had realized quickly that he needed to release himself long enough to stretch his legs now and then, but otherwise, he would leave himself restrained from the time he arrived in the mornings until he was ready to leave in the late afternoon. It had somewhat of a calming effect on his mind, helping him to focus for the most part, although the more time he spent restrained, the more it began to make him restless, as well. Not for being bound, but because he was doing it to himself, and what had seemed like the perfect solution to his desires was quickly creating new problems for him to sort through.

Harry sighed and pressed his forehead against the cool shower wall. He reached his hands back to massage his lower back as the water ran over it, moaning softly as his fingers pressed into a knot in his muscles and rubbed at it until it loosened. The night before, he'd thought about asking Neville to massage his back for him, but the thought he might ask why his muscles were so tense had stopped him short. Although a part of his mind was insisting that he needed someone else to be restraining him to truly be happy with what he was doing, Harry was still too frightened by the prospect of sharing his desires with Neville – or anyone else, for that matter – still certain that Neville would be gone in seconds if he discovered it.

Closing his eyes, Harry allowed the water to continue beating down on his back for several minutes longer before he turned around to face into the spray. He washed himself quickly and stepped back out, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around himself as he padded back into the bedroom. Kreacher had come and taken his clothes while he'd been in the shower, and left a clean set folded at the base of the bed. Harry considered them for a moment before shaking his head, moving the neat stack of clothes over to the top of the dresser. Drying off hastily, he picked up his wand and dropped himself onto his back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling overhead for a long moment.

A nervous tension rose up in his body as he lay there, naked and stretched out on the bed, wringing his wand in his hands.

He hadn't had an opportunity like this since he'd started experimenting with restraining himself – over the weekend, his time alone had been limited to much less than an hour, and it had been too risky for him to feel comfortable when Neville could come home at any moment. But during the week, when he was actually working and not just dropping by the greenhouses to water the plants, Neville was always predictable. More than two years together had proven as much. He would leave work either on time, or late, but never had he left early, unless he had a pre-arranged plan that required him to. Turning his head to check the time, Harry let out a ragged breath and clenched his hand tight around his wand.

Two hours.

He had that amount of time at least before he would have to unbind himself again to be safe. Neville shouldn't be home for at least two and a half, and it would allow him another half hour to dress and make his way downstairs before he would arrive. Neville would be none the wiser. Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Harry turned his face away from the clock and looked up at the ceiling again as he swiped his tongue across his lips. His eyes drifted closed as he focussed on steadying his breathing, slowly stretching his body out on the bed and reaching his legs towards the corners of the mattress as he pointed his wand.

"Incarcerous."

Harry sucked in a sharp breath as ropes shot from the end of his wand and wrapped around his legs from knee to ankle, and then secured to the end-board of the bed. Even during his experiments over the weekend, he hadn't dared to undress before he restrained himself, making it the first time he'd felt the ropes against his bare skin. Giving a firm tug against them to test the strength of the new hold, a low, shuddering moan slipped from his lips.

The ropes were rough and tight around his legs, rubbing pleasantly against his skin when he moved. Keeping his eyes closed, he carefully tucked his wand against his side to keep it within reach, and then stretched his arms up overhead to grip the headboard. A tremor rippled through him as he clenched his hands tight on the headboard and pulled against the restraints on his legs, savouring the feel of the ropes wrapped tight around his limbs. The feeling of not being enough surfaced again, but he quickly pushed it away, focussing on the sensations coursing through him, imagining that same rubbing of rope against skin around his arms as he continued tugging at his bonds.

He began pulling at his arms as well, after a little while, being careful to keep his hands grasped on the headboard. But the illusion of being fully restrained was enough for the moment, and Harry slowly began to move from simply tugging at the ropes to writhing in them. His breath came in soft, quick pants and his body arched and squirmed against the sheets under him. His cock was almost painfully hard, curved up against his stomach as he moved, but his hands never strayed from the headboard to touch himself.

Instead, he gripped onto the headboard tighter, the need for friction against his prick fading quickly as he continued to move in the ropes. He tried to keep his movements light; wary of leaving behind marks on his skin from the rope, although it flickered through his mind that he would be able to hide them easily enough afterwards. That thought broke through what little resolve he'd maintained to keep himself controlled, and Harry gave himself up to the sensation of the restraints with another soft moan, beginning to move in earnest.

Using his hands on the headboard for leverage, he arched his back up off the mattress as he pulled against the ropes on his legs. Even then, he could hardly move a few inches; the ropes were tethered tightly to the end-board with very little slack between the posts and where they twined around his ankles. A shudder passed through him, powerful and overwhelming, and contributing to the haze in his mind.

The more he moved, the more that it continued to build until every inch of his skin seemed to be alive with the feelings washing through him in steady waves. His body nearly hummed with it, ripples of pleasure and a deep, aching need that only the pulling against the ropes satisfied. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had a strange sensation of floating that slowly took hold of him. He lost his sense of time as he continued writhing and tugging in the ropes until that feeling had all but consumed him, leaving him hovering on the edge of something in his mind that felt terrifying and thrilling all at once. The former won out, however, and with a quiet, strangled sound, he snapped his eyes open to look up at the ceiling.

"Fuck," Harry breathed, shuddering pleasantly again as he let himself settle against the mattress and attempt to catch his breath at last, feeling a flicker of disappointment as the haze crept back into the recesses of his mind. He had just begun to still his writhing when a faint sound that certainly didn't come from him caught his attention and he whipped his head to the side as his eyes went wide. A tall shadow in the hallway was all the warning he had as he released the headboard and scrambled to pick up his wand again, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. His fingers had only just curled around his wand when he heard the scuff of shoes against the hardwood floor, and then Neville's startled voice saying his name.

"Neville, I can explain," he started in a wavering voice, studiously avoiding looking towards the doorway as he gave a sharp flick of his wrist to release the ropes on his legs and sat up. He grabbed fistfuls of the sheets and pulled them across his lap to cover his erection, tucking his legs up to partially cover them, as though being unable to see them now might erase what Neville had seen. When he finally raised his gaze, Neville's expression was a mixture of confusion and uncertainty, with something else shining beneath it all that Harry wasn't certain he could name. Swallowing nervously, Harry reached a hand out to Neville as all of his suppressed feelings of guilt came washing to the forefront of his mind again. "Please..."

Neville didn't move from the doorway for a long moment. When he finally did, it was to take a step back from the doorway, to Harry's horror, and he dropped his hand limply to his lap.

"I think I'd rather we sit on the sofa while we talk, if you don't mind," Neville said softly. His tone didn't seem upset, but it was hard for Harry to judge with his mind racing as it was, so he simply nodded. He watched Neville shuffle in the hall for a few more seconds, his discomfort obvious, before he murmured, "I'll see you downstairs, then..." and turned away.

Harry squeezed his eyes closed against the tears welling up in them as he listened to Neville's footsteps descending the stairs, willing himself to calm down as much as possible. He stayed put in the bed until his breathing had at least evened out and then glanced at the clock as he swung his legs over the side to put his feet on the floor.

Neville was an hour early.

Fighting back the taste of bile that rose up in his throat, Harry began dressing quickly and fidgeting with his clothes just to buy himself some time. His cock had softened quick enough when Neville had caught him; Harry bit down hard on his lower lip as he thought about exactly what sort of picture he must have painted for Neville. Bound naked on their bed and writhing around with his prick at full attention. It took the taste of blood on his tongue for Harry to release his lip, shaking his head to push back the panic surging through him as best he could. Casting a glance in the floor-length mirror on the back of their door, he took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, and made his way downstairs with an air of confidence than he didn't really feel.

Neville was perched on the sofa when Harry stepped into the sitting room. Two opened bottles of Butterbeer sat on the low table in front of him, both clearly untouched. Hesitating a few steps back from the sofa, Harry looked at him uncertainly, resisting the desire to wring his hands. A flicker of relief passed through him when Neville looked up to meet his eyes and offered a small smile, gesturing to the empty cushion beside him on the sofa. Harry nodded and moved to sit, careful to leave space between the two of them. He reached out and picked up one of the Butterbeers, curling his hands tight around the bottle as he looked anywhere but at Neville.

"I'm not going to leave, you know," Neville murmured, breaking the tense silence that had settled between them. Harry finally turned to look at him and saw that Neville seemed to be avoiding looking at him, now. He was leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees and his bottle of Butterbeer dangling by the neck from his fingers. "Just because you were doing something... different. I just..." He trailed off and frowned, and as Harry watched him, Neville turned his head to meet Harry's eyes, the conflict of emotions he'd seen earlier still present in his gaze. "I want you to explain it to me. Because I'm not really sure what it is I just walked in on, and I'd rather know before we really talk."

Harry looked at Neville for a moment before he nodded, breaking his gaze away and taking a long, slow sip of his Butterbeer before he spoke.

"It started a few months ago," he admitted softly. "Not me doing that, exactly, but the... the desire for it started then..." Realizing how that sounded, Harry took a deep breath to steady himself and launched into a proper explanation.

"The dreams – with the Snatchers – haven't really been nightmares for the past half year or so. They were, when they started, and I guess, now and then. I still have a real one, but it's like you, now. It's not all that common. Now, they're more like..." Harry trailed off with a sigh and reached up to rake his hand through his hair, struggling for a word. He chanced a glance at Neville beside him, but Neville was just watching him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

"They're fantasies, I guess. Not sexual," Harry clarified quickly; wincing when he thought about what Neville had seen when he caught him. "I know how all that looked, upstairs, but it's really not sexual. That... physical reaction... just sort of comes along with it. It's just about that feeling of being restrained. The need for it."

"How are they different?" Neville asked when Harry fell silent again. "The dreams from the nightmares - how have they changed?"

Relieved to have that gentle nudge in the conversation, Harry allowed himself to relax a little against the back of the sofa. "A lot has changed, really. They're not like the memories anymore – Hermione, Ron, and Dean aren't with me, or Griphook. It's just me, and the Snatchers never do anything with me. They just tie me up and then the whole dream is about how the rope feels on me, you know? How it feels to struggle against it, knowing I'm not going to get free, and honestly, Neville, I don't want to."

Harry paused a moment, taking what felt like the first real deep breath he'd had in months, now that the words were out in the open, and he turned again to look at Neville. "I want to be restrained like that sometimes. It feels good. And it's calming, in a strange way."

"I started trying it on myself, like you saw, last week. Friday, at work, Ron and Seamus had had an overnight case and it gave me the idea. Just tying up my legs under my desk while I work has made a huge difference, I mean, you've seen that the dreams haven't been a problem lately." Harry looked down at his lap as his cheeks heated with a flush. "That's why, I think. Because I've been doing that. But it's always just been my legs. Tonight was the first time I've tried it like that, doing it on the bed or... naked."

He let another silence settle between them, leaving his admission hanging in the air between them. When Neville did not speak up after a few minutes, however, Harry began sipping at his Butterbeer again to quell the anxious feelings rising up in him. He'd just drained the bottle and leaned forward to place it on the coffee table when Neville finally broke the silence.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"I don't know," Harry sighed. Raking his hand through his hair, he gave Neville a pleading look. "I thought you'd leave. I could barely admit it to myself, how could I ask you to understand something even I didn't?" He paused and shook his head. "I thought I could just indulge it myself the way I've been doing, and that would be the end of it. If I had to choose between having you, and being able to indulge that, I would choose youevery time. I need you, Neville. I just want that."

Neville shook his head with a sigh and leaned heavily against the back of the sofa. "No. I think you more than 'just want' that, Harry." Harry swallowed the lump rising in his throat as Neville turned to meet his eyes, clenching his hands in his lap and waiting for him to stand and walk away from him. To his amazement, Neville reached a hand for him instead, prying his fist open to clasp Harry's hands in his and lacing their fingers together, murmuring softly, "And that's okay."

Harry found himself being pulled closer and made a choked sound as he moved his arms to wrap around Neville, clinging to him as he pressed his face into his neck. "You don't care that I want that?" he asked against the curve of Neville's neck, and felt Neville shake his head in response.

"No, I don't. But..." Neville's hand found its way into Harry's hair, tangling in the brunet strands and tugging to pull Harry's head back. With a hint of lingering reluctance, Harry met Neville's eyes.

"But?" he asked nervously.

"But I want us to experiment with this together from now on. No more of this hiding from me or doing it yourself... Can you agree to that?"

For a moment, Harry could only stare at Neville before he managed to move, once again pressing his face against his neck and letting out a sigh of relief. "Yes," he whispered, closing his eyes as Neville's fingers began carding through his hair. "I can agree to that."

"Harry! Would you come here for a minute?"

Marking his page in his book, Harry tossed it onto the coffee table and pushed himself up off the couch. He could hear Neville shuffling around in the bedroom as he made his way up the stairs and popped his head into the room before pushing the door open properly and stepping in. Neville was just pushing the drawer of the bedside table closed, and flashed a smile as he turned to look at him.

"What are you up to?" Harry asked as he approached the bed, perching himself on the edge of it and watching Neville curiously.

"Just putting something away." Taking a seat beside Harry, Neville wrapped his arm around his waist and pulled him against his side, pressing a kiss against his temple.

Harry arched an eyebrow at that answer, leaning into Neville. "And you needed me to come up because...?" He earned a laugh from Neville and smiled at him, tipping his head against his shoulder. "Was there something you wanted?"

"Actually, yes," Neville said. He paused and his arm tightened around Harry slightly, the silence stretching between them for long enough that Harry began to think he wouldn't speak again. He opened his mouth to say something and clamped it shut again when Neville spoke in a low murmur. "I was wondering if you wanted to try letting me tie you up tonight."

Harry's breath caught in his throat at Neville's suggestion, and he met his eyes as Neville turned to give him a look that was almost uncertain and nervous.

They hadn't discussed Harry's dreams since that first conversation the week before, passing their weekend and the whole of the following week as they always did. To Harry's relief, the dreams had not returned just yet, but he'd begun to feel that strange itch again, though he hadn't said anything about it to Neville. He'd been determined to let him decide on his own when he was ready, and despite all of the temptation, Harry had kept to his word and refrained from binding his legs any more while he was at work.

"Yes," he answered finally, his voice quiet and breathy with his desire. "If you want to, then yes."

One of Neville's hands moved into his hair, tugging his head back gently until their eyes met and Neville offered him a small smile. "I wouldn't be suggesting it if I weren't ready, Harry. It took me this long because I've been waiting until I had a better idea of what I'm doing. So I don't accidentally hurt you." Pulling away from Harry, Neville reached for the bedside table and removed a book, showing it to him. "I've been reading up a little. Wanted to get a better idea how this sort of thing should work, and how to be safe about it."

Harry stroked his fingers over the front cover of the book for a moment, amazed by how far Neville had apparently gone to do this for himproperly. Managing a nod, he handed the book back over and clasped one of Neville's hands in both of his, giving it a squeeze. "Thank you, Neville."

"Anything for you, love," Neville murmured, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his temple. When he pulled back, Neville was smiling and Harry felt the last traces of his uncertainty leave him with a soft sigh of relief. In its place came a fluttering of anticipation as he watched Neville return the book to its place in the drawer and remove a bundle. Neville tapped it with his wand to enlarge it and shifted over, placing it between them on the bed.

Peering closer, Harry reached out and traced his fingers over the bundle, realizing that it was several lengths of rope all bundled together. A small shudder rippled through him as he pulled his hand away and looked at Neville. "How do you want me?"

"How about the way you are in the dreams?" Neville suggested, and Harry nodded. Moving away from his side, Harry shifted back to sit in the middle of the bed. He pulled his arms behind his back, doing his best not to shift anxiously just from being in that position. "You're sure this is alright?" Neville asked as he toyed with the bundle of ropes. His expression was concerned, but underneath it, Harry saw the same look in his eyes he remembered from when Neville had first caught him bound to their bed, and realized for the first time that he knew that look.

It was the same one Neville always gave him after he'd spent time getting him wound up and finally allowed Neville to get his hands on him. Lust. Shivering pleasantly, Harry nodded again.

"Yes, I'm sure..."

"Alright then." Neville clapped his hands and rubbed them together before he moved, shifting around to kneel behind Harry, pulling the bundle of ropes apart and picking up a long length. Harry closed his eyes and focussed on keeping his breathing steady as Neville began winding the rope around his chest.

The process was different from the dreams – he could tell that much just from the start. Neville had folded the rope double, holding the lark's head in the centre of his back while he wound the rest around him, pulling the tail end of the rope through the loop and cinching it tight. Harry's arms were pinned close to his body just from the pull on the rope, and then Neville slowly continued to wind it around him, this time in the opposite direction. Even through the fabric of his shirt, Harry could feel the rope pressing into his skin as Neville pulled it taunt once again, wedging a finger between Harry's arms and the rope every now and again to check the tension before he would continue.

Each pass of the rope around him was laid carefully beneath the previous, creating a smooth, wide band of ropes around him, rather than a messy bunch, and the knot Neville tied rested neatly in the middle of his back. Harry waited while Neville bound his wrists as well, that knot nestled between his wrists, beneath the bulk of the restraints so his fingers were unable to grasp anything but the very tail ends of the rope where they hung down. Letting out a soft moan, he pulled his lower lip between his teeth and began testing the restraints, twisting his hands and pressing out with his arms in an effort to loosen either of the knots.

Rather than any sort of give, there was only the firm pressure of the rope as Harry pulled at the bindings, the feel of it softer than he expected as it rubbed against the skin of his wrists. Pleased with the secure knots, he allowed himself to settle for a moment, taking one slow, deep breath and then another before he began to struggle properly. He twisted and jerked his arms against the rope around his wrists, attempting to wrench them free of at least one loop of the rope. When it did him no good, he focussed instead on breaking the ropes around his chest, trying to push his arms away from his body and letting out a soft moan when those, too, held firm.

"Bloody hell..."

"Is it what you wanted?" Neville asked softly from behind him, startling Harry. He'd started to forget that Neville was actually there with him as he lost himself in the feel of the ropes around him. With heat rising up in his cheeks, Harry nodded and ducked his head to avoid meeting Neville's eyes when he shifted around to sit beside him.

"It's exactly what I wanted," he murmured. Neville only hummed, letting silence settle between them while they both sat there, and after another moment, Harry began to struggle again, pressing out against the ropes just to feel them digging into him. The sleeves of his shirt prevented him from feeling too much of them rubbing against his upper arms, but the ropes around his wrists rubbed and scratched lightly as he twisted in them. Letting his eyes drift closed, Harry let instinct take control for the moment and moved the way he always did in the dreams, struggling at first until the feel of being bound pushed him to writhe in place.

His breath had begun to come in soft pants when he felt Neville's hand on him for the first time, resting on his shoulder and squeezing just enough to gain his attention and still his movements. "You're going to give yourself rope burn if you keep that up," he explained when Harry turned to give him a questioning look.

"Oh..." Harry frowned and settled again, taking a few slow, measured breaths to steady himself. "I guess that means you have to untie me, then?" he asked with obvious reluctance.

Neville shook his head. "Actually," he started, leaning in to press his lips against Harry's ear, "it means you need to stop struggling so much." He sat back again with a soft chuckle and smiled. "If I'd realized you planned to pull against them like this, I'd have found softer rope or something. Or we could look into some other way of restraining you that isn't going to rub your wrists raw when you pull this way. But for now," Neville continued as he reached over to the bedside table and picked up his wand. "I may have a solution that'll make both of us happy."

Harry frowned in confusion as Neville cast an Accio to summon his book from where he'd left it downstairs, catching it as it soared into the room. Smiling when he turned to look at him again, Neville set the book down and shifted around behind Harry again, reaching for the ropes on his hands.

"I'm going to tie you a little bit tighter. Not enough to be dangerous, but so you can feel the ropes without having to struggle against them. The condition to doing this, though," he added, his voice taking on a stern note that sent a thrill through Harry, "is that you'll have to take breaks a little more often, just to be safe."

"Breaks?" Harry asked, twisting to look at Neville over his shoulder. Neville nodded as he began undoing the knot in the rope, unravelling it slowly as he spoke.

"Every little while, I'm going to untie you again so you can move. Stretch your muscles a little and let me massage your arms, and then I'll tie you right back up if you want. That way you won't be aching so much when we finally stop for the night, and it'll give me a chance to make sure everything is going alright. Fair enough?"

Harry's wrists were completely free now, much to his discomfort, and he nodded without hesitation, eager to have the rope on him again. "Yes. That seems fair."

"Good," Neville murmured in a satisfied tone, though Harry had the impression that he stalled on the word, as though he'd been about to say more. When he didn't, though, and only began winding the rope around his wrists again instead, Harry assumed he was mistaken. Closing his eyes, he let himself relax and enjoy the feel of Neville binding his wrists again, tighter than before though not by much.

When he'd finished, Neville sat back, shifting back against the headboard of the bed and reaching a hand for Harry. "Come sit with me."

Giving him a curious look, Harry shuffled a little awkwardly without the use of his hands to move towards Neville. As soon as he was within reach, Neville caught him up in his arms and pulled him back so he was nestled between his legs, leaning back against his chest. With a contented hum, Harry settled into the position, tipping his head back onto Neville's shoulder and turning his face to brush his lips against his jaw.

"So... What are you going to do to me now, hm?"

"Now," Neville said as he pulled his legs up and propped his arms against his knees. He held Harry's book open in his hands, tilted just so, for Harry to be able to read. "I'm going to let you finish your book," he finished, and Harry let out a soft laugh.

"Oh Merlin, yes, right there," Harry moaned, his voice muffled by the pillow under his head as he pressed his face further into it. "Fuck, Neville..."

Above him, Neville chuckled. "I can't say you've ever been quite this vocal before when I've done this," he teased, earning himself a half-hearted swat from Harry, which missed him entirely. "Now, if you hit me, I'm just going to stop."

"Prat." Harry's lips twisted into a smile and he peeked his eyes open, catching sight of Neville in his periphery and saw that he, too, was smiling. Closing his eyes again, he let himself relax under Neville's hands as they continued pressing into the muscles of his upper back and shoulders.

He'd been bound off and on for the better part of four hours while they enjoyed their evening together, taking short breaks to stretch twice an hour. Neville had held him back against his chest all the while, holding his book for him so he could read, since his hands had remained bound behind his back. When Neville had declared it time to stop for the night, Harry had felt too relaxed and content to argue, although he suspected he happily could have gone on like that for a few more hours. But the moment his arms and been released again and he'd given them a proper stretch, the ache in his muscles had caught up to him.

Without any prompting, Neville had gently tugged Harry's shirt off him and manoeuvred him onto his stomach on the bed, straddling his waist. Letting out another low moan as Neville's hands wandered down towards his lower back, Harry stretched his arms out again for the first time since the massage had begun and was relieved to find them ache-free when he moved. He stretched his arms out above his head, reaching to the headboard but not grasping onto it. A moment later, he moved them back down and folded them beneath his head when Neville made a soft sound above him, uncertain what it meant. When Neville didn't prompt him to stretch his arms out again, though, he assumed he'd made the proper choice and shifted a little under him to make himself more comfortable.

"Now that you've tried it," Harry asked at length, breaking off to moan softly as Neville ran his hands the length of his spine. "W-what do you think of it? Doing this sort of thing to me?"

He felt Neville shift over him and then lips pressed against his neck, sending a small ripple of pleasure through him. "I think I'd like to do it again. Whenever you want it."

"Yeah?" Twisting his head to look at Neville over his shoulder, Harry smiled when Neville took advantage of the change to press their lips together for a brief kiss.

"Yeah," he murmured as he pulled away, straightening up and running his hands over Harry's back again, searching for more knots in his muscles. "Ido think we ought to look into other means of restraining you, though. Just because you seem to be so fond of struggling like that."

Harry flushed but nodded, propping his head up on one hand as Neville moved off him to stretch out beside him on the bed on his side. "Did you have something else in mind? Or just thinking aloud with that?"

"A little bit of both, actually," Neville answered. Harry watched him roll onto his back, turning his head to the side, and dropped his own arm to fold it beneath his head as he lowered it again, just to keep them at eye-level. The gesture made Neville smile fondly, reaching a hand over to trail his fingers over Harry's cheek. "We could get a proper pair of restraints if you wanted. Leather or something – sturdy enough to hold you, but flexible enough for you to struggle in them without hurting yourself."

His eyes widening at the suggestion, Harry hesitated as he turned Neville's idea over in his mind. The dreams had always only ever been rope. There had never been anything like leather involved, and it struck him as a much more sexual thing to use 'proper' restraints. The feel of rope around him was proving to be calming, the rough scratch against skin soothing him in the strangest way. Leather, as far as he could think, could not bind him as fully – real restraints would only fit over his wrists and ankles, after all, and a large part of what he enjoyed was being truly immobilized.

The prospect of something like leather – which could make things more sexual – held an appeal, though, and Harry hesitated to dismiss it at first. But then, another part of his mind quickly clamped down on the suggestion. Neville had not mentioned anything sexual, and even if a part of him was interested in how being bound could play into such a thing, Harry was reluctant to be the one to suggest anything of the sort. Worrying his lower lip, Harry finally shook his head.

"I'd rather not... I need something that can really hold me, Neville. Something like handcuffs wouldn't really offer that."

He continued worrying his lip as Neville remained silent, getting a thoughtful look about him, only releasing his lip when Neville reached over and swiped his thumb across it to pull it free of his teeth. "Maybe we could look into it, one day," he suggested. "See if we can find something that'll restrain you like you want, but still not rub on you like that when you struggle." Without hesitation, Harry nodded and started to settle against the bed again when Neville rolled onto his side and wrapped his arms around him. Laughing softly, he allowed himself to be pulled closer, pressing himself against Neville's chest and wrapping his arms around his neck.

"Thank you for all of this, Neville..." Harry said softly, leaning in to press their lips together. He knew the answer before it came, and his mouth twisted up into a smile as Neville spoke into the kiss, tightening his arms around him.

"Anything for you."

"Neville!"

Harry kicked off his shoes beside the hearth and bent down to pull off his socks. Neville didn't answer, and he sighed, wondering if that meant he'd found himself working late as well. He padded barefoot towards the stairs to the third floor, yanking at his tie as he went. His shirt was half-undone already by the time he made it into the bedroom, and he finished unbuttoning it before flinging it onto the bed, along with his balled-up socks. He pulled off his trousers next and jerked open one of the dresser drawers in search of a comfortable pair to lounge in.

His skin had that uncomfortable itching sensation running over it that he'd grown accustomed to lately – Neville hadn't restrained him in a couple of days, and while that in itself was manageable, his long and rather hectic day at work had left him feeling tense and stressed. Tugging on a pair of old, worn pyjama bottoms, he grabbed a loose-fitting shirt and pulled it on over his head as he jogged down the stairs back to the sitting room. The temptation of the bedroom and the ropes that were a permanent fixture in their bedside table now was too much for him.

Dropping himself onto the sofa, Harry sprawled out across the cushions and closed his eyes, taking one deep breath and then another in an effort to calm himself and draw his focus away from that damned itching. When the sensation did not subside after a few minutes, he sat upright again and flung his legs over the edge of the sofa. Just as he was rising to his feet, the Floo flared to life and Neville stepped through, a couple of takeaway bags in his hands. Without giving Neville a moment to process that he was already home, Harry rounded the low table between himself and Neville and wrapped his arms around his neck tightly, fisting his hands in the back of his shirt.

"Harry-"

"Take me upstairs?" Harry hissed, clenching his hands tight in the fabric. "Please."

Neville only hesitated a moment before he nodded, gently removing himself from Harry's grasp, using his wand to levitate the takeaway down to the kitchen before wrapping an arm around his waist to guide him towards the stairs. "Work was bad, I take it?" he asked, and Harry made a snorting sound.

"Work was terrible, actually," he answered, letting himself be ushered up the stairs and back into their bedroom. "Why else do you think I worked four hours late?"

He stood anxiously beside the bed, watching as Neville stripped out of his clothes and changed, wringing his hands in front of himself as he waited. "I'm itching again, Neville, I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Nothing's wrong with you," Neville said in a firm tone, the same one that never failed to send a tremor rippling through Harry. Raising his gaze to meet Neville's eyes when he stepped around in front of him, Harry gave a small nod and Neville tucked his hand beneath his chin to pull him into a kiss. Their lips brushed together, lightly at first and then a firm pressure before Neville broke away and took a step back. "You just need to relax, love, that's all. There's nothing wrong with needing this like you do."

Harry nodded again; the words and the confident way that Neville said them helped him to relax while he watched Neville remove the rope from the drawer and begin laying out the individual lengths on the bed. "How would you like to do this?" he asked.

Neville was silent for a moment before he answered, picking up one length of rope and considering it. "Something new today, I think. Sit for now, please. I need to be able to get at your legs."

Intrigued by the suggestion of something new, Harry obediently perched himself on the edge of the bed, raising a leg for Neville in offering. Neville crouched down in front of him, guiding his heel to rest on one of his knees while he began working with the rope as Harry watched in fascination. In the month or so they'd been experimenting with the ropes, Neville had gotten more and more creative with them, and made it seem like an art when he bound Harry. He had also gotten faster at working with the ropes, and the process of restraining him took only a matter of minutes, most days.

He folded the rope double and to Harry's confusion, tied off a knot, leaving an open loop before he began to wind the rope around his ankle. Rather than through the loop that he'd created, Neville passed the tail ends of the rope through the spot beneath the knot, leaving the loop open and free, sticking out away from Harry's leg as he wound the rope up over his leg. The knot to fasten it in place was nestled near the bend of Harry's knee, just to one side to avoid being in the way, and then Neville started on the other leg, repeating the process over again.

Harry moved his legs when Neville had finished, looking down at the rope wound around them with his brow furrowed. He could feel the rope pressing against his skin through the fabric of his trouser legs, which was a comfort in itself, but he wasn't actually restrained, both legs still completely free. Starting to speak, to question Neville, the words died on his tongue when he looked up and saw Neville giving him an expectant look, gesturing to one of his arms.

"Arms now, please."

Despite his confusion, Harry held out his arms, pressing them together. Neville, in turn, pushed them apart and bound them both the same way he'd done his legs, leaving the ropes circling his forearms from elbow to wrist. The ropes rubbed pleasantly against his bare skin, but again, he hadn't been properly restrained. Harry gave Neville a questioning look when he stood and stepped back away from him. A few lengths of rope dangled from Neville's hands as he tipped his head towards the bedroom door.

"Come downstairs with me," he said, and Harry frowned again.

"But..."

"Trust me, Harry. I'll make sure you get what you need."

Harry hesitated before he gave in and stood, following Neville downstairs to the sitting room. He took a seat at one end of the sofa when Neville gestured for him to, watching him curiously as he moved to stand in front of him. Crouching down, Neville pulled Harry's hands together now and circled one of the extra lengths of rope through the loops near his wrists. The rope pulled tight, binding his wrists together, and Neville left the tail ends of the rope dangling free from his wrists.

"Why didn't you do that before?" Harry asked. He moved his legs when prompted to; pressing them together as well while Neville bound them the same way he'd done his hands. "Seems like it would have been less work just binding them together from the start."

"Yes, it would have." Sitting back on his heels, Neville looked Harry over once before he straightened, bending down to press a kiss to the top of his head. "But like this, the ropes aren't as tight on your limbs, so you can leave it on for hours without any risk of losing circulation." He reached one hand down and tugged at the rope connecting Harry's wrists. "I can unfasten these when we need, to let you get a bit of a stretch, and then tie you right back up without you having to be fully free of the rope. And it makes you a bit more mobile this way."

Harry's mouth pulled into an 'oh' of understanding as Neville explained. Tipping his face up towards him, he reached out and grabbed Neville by the front of his shirt to tug him closer until their lips were pressed together. "You're brilliant, you know that?" he asked as they broke apart, and Neville chuckled.

"I'm glad you think so. Now, you stay put, and I'm going to put dinner together so we can eat, alright?"

"Yeah." Flashing Neville a smile, Harry settled against the back of the sofa and turned his head to watch him leave the room before moving to lay across the cushions. It took him a moment to make himself comfortable, leaving his legs hanging over one arm of the sofa and his arms bent to leave his hands resting on his chest. He let his eyes drift closed while he waited for Neville, focussing on the feel of the ropes around him. The steady pressure of them against his arms and legs had stopped the itching sensation, and when he gave a light struggle to test the hold with the new way of binding him, he was pleased to see it was as strong as ever.

The anxiousness and stress he'd felt earlier began to subside as he laid there, taking slow, deep breaths, melting into his position except for a few light struggles now and again. It took the clatter of plates being set down on the coffee table to make him stir again, cracking his eyes open and turning his head to the side. Neville smiled indulgently at him as he set their dinner out, and Harry struggled for a moment to sit up again, laughing when he found himself flopping back against the cushions.

"Little help, love?" he asked, brushing his lips against Neville's jaw when Neville chuckled and helped him upright. "Thanks." Neville nodded and reached for Harry's hands, pulling the rope securing his wrists free and passing him his plate.

"I'll bind your arms again after you've finished, but it didn't seem too fair to make you try to eat like that."

Harry smiled, settling his plate in his lap. "I think you just didn't want to have to clean up the mess," he teased before taking a bite of rice. Neville laughed and shook his head in response, digging into his own dinner.

"We have Kreacher if that was all it was, but no. I just thought it'd be easier on you this way, especially since your legs are still bound."

Nodding, Harry leaned slightly to the side to brush his shoulder against Neville's and the two of them settled into silence while they ate. True to his word, as soon as both their plates had been cleared, Neville bound Harry's wrists again. He put Sleepless In Seattle on for them to watch and hauled Harry over into his lap. Harry shuffled around to turn sideways, leaning against Neville's chest with his legs stretched out across the cushions of the sofa, tipping his head against Neville's shoulder.

Neville didn't move to untie him until the film had finished, releasing only Harry's legs this time before nudging him out of his lap. "Time to go up for bed, I think." With a disappointed sound, Harry nodded and started to move, stopping when Neville's arms caught him around the waist. "We don't have to stop, you know," Neville murmured in his ear, pulling Harry back against his chest.

"We don't?" Harry asked, a note of uncertainty in his voice. Neville shook his head.

"Tomorrow's Saturday, love. No work. No getting up early..."

"And?"

"And," Neville said, turning his face to brush his lips against Harry's jaw, "one of the benefits of tying you the way I did is I could tie you to bed tonight and not have to worry about releasing you again until morning."

Harry closed his eyes and sagged back against Neville's chest with a low moan. "Fuck, Neville... Is that what you're going to do?" Turning his face towards Neville, Harry all but held his breath waiting for the answer, and when Neville nodded, he let out another soft sound and turned in the circle of his arms to press his face into Neville's neck. "You have no idea how much I need this," he whispered.

Neville pressed a kiss to his hair and smiled as he gently stepped back, catching Harry's bound wrists in his hands and guiding him towards the stairs. "I can guess, love. Now let's get you up to bed."

Strong, calloused hands roamed over the bare skin of Harry's chest, tracing the contours of his body and stroking fingers over the lines of his muscles. Tilting his head back, Harry used his bound arms for leverage as he arched his back up off the bed, pressing his chest up into the touch. The ropes around his wrists rubbed pleasantly against his skin as he moved, pulling a low moan from his lips as those hands moved lower over his body. Lips followed a moment later, closing over one nipple and then the other, teasing them until they hardened, then trailing down over the centre of his chest and abdomen.

His legs were pushed further open and the hands on him settled on his thighs, pinning them in place. Pressing his hips up in anticipation, Harry pulled at his arms again with the desire to reach for the man moving over him, desperate to thread his fingers through the familiar, dark hair.

"Please," he whispered, struggling restlessly in his bonds. A soft chuckle answered him, just before a wet heat engulfed his cock, swallowing him down in one smooth slide. With a soft cry, Harry arched up again, bucking up into the mouth around him until the hands pressed harder against his thighs to still him, the added sensation of being pinned fuelling his arousal. Panting softly, he writhed as the mouth worked over his cock with slow, steady slides back and forth over his length.

"Fuck..."

Harry splayed his legs further apart as the hands moved off his thighs to roam back up over his body. The touch of one of them disappeared after a moment, while the other continued sliding over his chest and then back down towards his waist and repeating, slow, steady strokes over his torso. A low hum rumbled in his ear, startling him a little when he could still feel the mouth on his cock, but the sensation was slowly fading as the hum became louder, and he became aware of the pressure of something against his back.

"Harry..."

Neville's voice broke through his sleep-clouded mind and Harry blinked his eyes open. He was pressed back against Neville's chest, with Neville's hand sliding slowly over his chest. His other arm was twined around his waist while both of Harry's arms were still restrained to the headboard of the bed where they'd been tied off before they went to sleep. Neville had removed the rope holding his wrists together and instead bound each arm separately to one corner of the bed to allow him more room to move, just enough slack in the ropes for Harry to comfortably roll onto his back now to look at Neville.

"Morning," Neville murmured, leaning in to brush their lips together. Harry arched up into the kiss as Neville's hand trailed lower on his chest, towards his navel and the sparse trail of dark hairs beneath it. Spreading his legs open in invitation, he flexed his hands in his restraints and swiped his tongue across his lips.

"Morning. Something you're after, love?" Harry smiled to show he was teasing, and Neville returned it, pressing close against his side as his fingers toyed with the wiry strands around the base of his erection.

"I could ask the same of you."

A faint heat rose up in Harry's cheeks as he blushed. "I might want something..." he admitted, tilting his head back as Neville hummed and pressed his lips against his throat. "Neville."

Needing no further prompting, Neville moved over him, familiar calloused hands pushing his legs open to settle between them. Harry strained upwards against the bonds to trail kisses along the curve of Neville's throat while Neville reached one hand to the bedside table. There was a sound of fumbling as Neville reached into the drawer of the table for the bottle of lubricant, and a moment later, Harry felt cool, slicked fingers pressing back behind his balls, finding and rubbing against his hole.

Neville circled the ring of muscle a few times before sliding two fingers inside Harry and twisting his hand a little. He withdrew just as quickly, replacing his fingers with the head of his cock, and Harry pulled against his arms for leverage as he lifted his hips to meet him as he thrust inside. A low, keening sound fell from Harry's lips as Neville filled him, both of them staying still a moment while he adjusted before he rolled his hips to signal Neville to move.

Harry brought his legs up to wrap around Neville's waist, pulling him flush against him and rocking his hips with every thrust, writhing beneath him. Each slow, deep slide of Neville into him rubbed over Harry's prostate, and the closeness of their bodies ground Neville's stomach against his cock, providing him the friction he so desperately needed. Neville's hands roamed over Harry's sides at first, one finally settling on his hip and clinging to him as the other hand reached beneath Harry's head to tangle in his hair.

With a moan from deep in his chest, Harry strained up again to bring their lips together as they moved in tandem. The harsh sounds of their breathing and mingled moans filled Harry's ears, overwhelming him along with the sensation of the ropes still wrapped around his legs and those binding his arms over his head. He came first with a sharp cry bursting from his lips, arching up beneath Neville as his body shuddered against him. A moment later, Neville followed suit, crying out his completion against Harry's neck and gripping onto him tightly.

Neither man moved for some time, as they lay panting and trembling against each other and struggled to catch their breath. Once he'd softened and slipped from Harry's body, Neville rolled away to stretch out on his back beside him, cuddled up against Harry's side. Smiling, Harry turned his face towards him and strained against his bound arms to lean over and press a kiss to Neville's cheek with a breathless chuckle.

"That was bloody brilliant..."

"Yeah, it was," Neville agreed without hesitation. He shifted up onto his side and trailed a hand over Harry's chest before reaching for the ropes binding his arms to the headboard. "What do you say we grab a shower together?" Harry arched an eyebrow at him with a knowing look and Neville held up both hands with a grin. "I don't know about you, love, but I'm a bit too old to recover that quickly. I really did mean a shower, although if you're up for a bit of that later, I'm not about to tell you no."

Harry laughed in answer and nodded. "Duly noted." He waited for Neville to release his arms, holding them out while he unravelled the ropes around his forearms, before wrapping his arms around Neville's neck for a moment to stop him from reaching for his legs. Instead, he pulled Neville into a kiss, slow and light at first and then pressing their lips harder together and delving his tongue into Neville's mouth to tangle them together, smiling when he earned a contented hum from Neville in response.

When they separated, Harry stretched out on his back again and waved for Neville to continue, flashing him a smile. Shaking his head, Neville obliged and reached to undo the ropes wound around Harry's legs. Without the steady pressure of ropes on his limbs, which he'd adjusted to over the course of the hours he'd been bound, Harry took a moment to shake the almost naked feeling to his arms and legs. As he sat up, one of Neville's hands slid up along his spine and he shivered beneath the touch, turning to look at him over his shoulder with a curious expression. Neville only smirked and withdrew his hand, moving off the bed.

"Payback for teasing me with that kiss," he explained. With a wink at Harry, he turned and made his way towards the bathroom, tossing over his shoulder, "Now get a move on, would you? I seem to be recovering a bit quicker than expected."

A wide smile pulled at Harry's lips at that and he scrambled off the bed to follow.

"Have you ever thought about doing that before?" Neville asked without preamble, breaking the comfortable silence in the sitting room. The two of them had stayed in the shower until the water had gone ice cold before they had actually begun to wash off. When they'd finally made their way out of the bathroom, they had both thrown on lounge clothes and made it as far as the sofa in the sitting room before dropping themselves down onto the cushions and cuddling up together, Harry lying with his head in Neville's lap. He'd begun to doze as Neville's hand carded through his hair, losing track of the time until Neville's question caught his attention and brought him back to himself.

Harry tipped his head back to get a better look at Neville. "Thought about doing what?"

"What we did this morning. With you tied up." Neville gave him a pointed look, and Harry's cheeks flushed as he turned his face away. When he didn't answer for a few moments, Neville sighed and resumed running his fingers through his hair. "Talk to me, Harry."

With a sigh of his own, Harry turned his face away and pushed himself upright. "There's nothing to talk about, Neville," he said, starting to move away until Neville caught his arm to stop him. Gently, Harry pulled himself free of the hold and stood. "Really, Neville-"

"Harry." The change in Neville's tone stopped him short, closing his eyes and taking a slow, measured breath to suppress the shudder threatening to rip through him. Harry heard Neville move up off the sofa and felt him curling his hand around his arm again. Neville's touch was firmer than before, but Harry still pulled against it, nearly breaking free until Neville's hold tightened. "Talk to me," he insisted.

Harry hesitated and then shook his head stubbornly. "There's nothing to talk about," he repeated, pulling away from Neville again. This time, to his disappointment, Neville let him go, and he took a few steps away before he turned to face him. "You already know I need to be tied up sometimes... It's just that, Neville, really-"

"No, it really isn't. I can tell that much from how defensive you're getting now."

Swallowing thickly, Harry straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin in an effort to disguise the flicker of uncertainty that coursed through him. The change in Neville's demeanour, brief as it had been, had stirred something in him – that buried need for someone to take control of him, at least for a moment. He'd had a taste of it that morning, being restrained as Neville took him, but it hadn't been enough. Neville hadn't takenenough. But admitting that seemed like too much.

"There isn't anything else that you don't know," he said, watching Neville's response closely. "Now can we just let this go? I was thinking we could-"

Faster than he could follow, Neville closed what little distance he'd managed to put between them and grasped him by the forearm, not in anger, but his grip was firm, preventing Harry from pulling away. Reluctantly, Harry met his gaze, taking in the stern look Neville had about him now and shivering pleasantly.

"Stop being evasive and tell me what you want." Neville's voice was quiet, but his tone held an obvious note of command, enforcing the words by tightening his grip just a fraction when Harry made a half-hearted attempt to break away. With another small shudder, Harry pressed himself close to Neville and ducked his head to bury his face against his neck.

"That. That is what I want, Neville," he admitted in a whisper. Bringing his free hand up, he tangled it in the front of Neville's shirt, speaking against the skin of his neck in a breathy murmur. "Be aggressive with me. Take control."

The admission left Harry breathless, feeling uncertain as he clenched his hand tighter in the fabric of Neville's shirt. Neville remained silent for a long moment, and finally, when Harry was on the verge of pulling away, Neville moved, releasing his arm in favour of closing both arms around him and pulling him flush against his chest. Tilting his face up, Harry met Neville's eyes for the brief moment before their lips were crushed together and he found himself being backed up against the nearest wall.

"You want me to take control, Harry?" Neville asked when they broke apart, pressing Harry's back firmly against the wall and bringing his lips beside his ear. "How much, and of what?" Harry made a frustrated sound and to his amazement, Neville responded by grasping his arms and pulling them up above his head, pinning them to the wall by his wrists.

"Please," Harry started, but Neville interrupted him, tightening his grip on his wrists.

"Talk," Neville demanded, and Harry leant his head back against the wall with a quiet moan at the stern tone.

"I want you to be like this with me, when I try to hide from you – and I'm going to hide, Neville," Harry said, looking Neville in the eyes. "I'm not ready to just lay it all out in the open, but I need this from you." Leaning in a little, Harry ducked his head again to brush his lips against Neville's jaw, lowering his voice to a soft murmur. "I need this with you."

He held his breath as he fell silent, waiting for Neville's reaction. It only took a moment, and then Neville turned his face to bring their lips together properly for one brief second. "We'll take it slow, alright? Figure it out together?" With a soft sigh of relief, Harry nodded, offering Neville a smile before he leaned in to press their lips together again.

"Thank you," Neville murmured when they broke apart, leaning closer to trail his lips along the line of Harry's jaw.

Furrowing his brow in confusion, Harry turned his face towards Neville's. "For what?"

"For trusting me. With all of this."

The answer took Harry's breath away for the briefest moment and he found himself sagging in Neville's hold on him, tilting his head back to expose his neck to him in offering. His eyes drifted closed as Neville moved his lips to his throat, and with a flicker of certainty, Harry whispered softly, "Anything for you, Neville."