A Thousand Words Unspoken
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By the time he'd reached his Sixth Year, Colin had actually grown tired of photographing Harry Potter. He still did it, of course, shots of Harry like a quiet obsession, the album thinner every year but no less thorough for all that; moments of public adulation and humiliation, private pain and joy, all captured, replaying endlessly with no one to watch them.

No, by the time he'd gone to school with Harry for five years and more, Colin Creevey had found himself a new subject. At first the figure would show up in the background of some of the photographs of Harry and his friends, all shy and quiet, often hiding behind the others once they'd been developed. When Colin found himself developing stills sometimes just so that the image couldn't duck away, he realized it was time to explore a different subject.

Neville never seemed to realize that Colin was photographing him specifically, not even the Nevilles in the pictures themselves. He always looked around for whatever Colin's 'real' subject was when the camera flashed, brow wrinkling in adorable confusion when there was no one else in sight. "Taking landscapes now?" Nev asked him one blustery autumn day, after he'd spent half an hour taking pictures of Neville studying out by the lake.

"Nope," Colin said with a small, private smile.

He took another shot of Nev with that cute forehead wrinkle, and then escaped to his darkroom, wondering when Neville would pick up on the truth and, most likely, start avoiding him. Especially if he knew that Colin had a special album stashed in a dusty corner of his darkroom; there were photos of Neville half-dressed and lounging in the sun, pictures of him sleep-mussed and peering through the bedcurtains, and even one, shoved guiltily behind another photo, of Neville in the shower.

Colin spent an awful lot of time looking at that picture tonight, the red light of the darkroom giving a sensual tinge to the luscious curves of Neville's body, the sparkle of water on his soft-looking skin, the furtive jut of his cock. Colin hadn't been able to resist taking this one the day he'd walked into the showers and seen Neville like this, head thrown back, fist moving frantically over his prick. He'd unhooked the flash and taken a single shot, the click of the lens lost beneath the sound of running water, then turned and ran as Ron and Harry shoved their way inside, laughing loudly and interrupting Neville.

This Neville never looked confused anymore, though. When he'd first realized he was in a photograph, being watched, he'd been bashful, sure. But after Colin had taken his own clothes off, photo-Nev'd lost some of his shyness, and when Colin had begun to stroke himself to the sight of Neville's plump backside, the last bit of it faded. Colin knew it wasn't normal to have a wanking relationship with a photograph, but he figured it was the first step to someday getting up the nerve to talk to the real thing.

Tonight, Nev in the photo seemed almost eager to see him. He teased at first, keeping his back to the camera, pretending to wash himself, shooting coy glances over his shoulder. He had to know by now what that did to Colin, the shimmering curve of his back, the plump globes of his arse, the lush columns of his thighs and the dimples at the backs of his knees. All that soft-looking flesh that Colin imagined would feel wonderful beneath his hands, cushioning his own harsh angles.

Once Colin gave in and got completely nude, the photo clipped chest-high on the drying line in front of him, the boy in the image grew bolder. Colin stroked his hands down his chest, pinching his own tiny nipples until they were hard, desperate peaks. Neville seemed to love watching him do that, and tonight was no exception. The image turned to the side, lashes fluttering, sparkling with the water from the perpetually running shower, prick hard, curving up from under the softness of his belly.

He didn't have the same round pot belly that he'd had as a boy; he'd outgrown some of that baby fat, but he still had enough of a tummy that Colin longed to pillow his face on it, rub his cheek against the skin there, and nibble all around his navel before sticking his tongue inside. Colin ran his hand down the disappointing concavity of his own stomach, bypassing his needy cock to cup his balls, wishing it was Neville's hand, or Neville's balls. The boy in the photo mirrored him, turning to face him and spreading those perfectly plump legs, bracing strong shoulders against the tile wall.

He mouthed something, and Colin cursed once again that he still hadn't found a charm to give sound to the photographs. No, they were stuck forever in a few moments of life, without even words to communicate with the world, just gestures. Oh, that was a lovely gesture, Neville slicking his fingers up with soap, very ostentatiously moving away from the spray and nearly to the edge of the photograph, sinking to the floor with his legs spread wide in a way he'd never done before.

Colin moaned aloud, cock twitching at this new development. He didn't want to go too fast, but he was already on the edge of coming just from seeing, even distantly, that secret place of Neville's. The boy in the image cupped his balls, drawing them up and away before his fingers trailed down behind them, one of them disappearing into the shadows of his body. Colin bit his own lip and let his hand grip his cock, pumping slowly, trying not to finish too quickly.

Photo-Nev looked almost pouty at Colin's reaction, as though he'd expected more. It was that look -- as though he wanted to see Colin even more than Colin wanted to be able to touch him -- that look was what sent Colin over, just barely remembering to bring his other hand up to catch the spill. "Neville," he whispered, hoping the boy in the photograph could read the need on his lips, understand how much he valued this new gift.

He brought his palm up to his mouth, sticking his tongue out to lick the come. This was something he'd found that Neville loved to watch, and this time was no exception. Neville's other hand was already pulling at his cock, head back against those tiles. Colin felt his own prick give an interested twitch as both of those small, chubby hands moved faster, finger going in and out of the dark space between Neville's thighs, cockhead peeking up from the grip of a fist. Colin lapped up his creamy seed, sucking two fingers into his mouth, and was rewarded by cries he could only imagine as the photo-memory of Neville came.

Their eyes met, and then his fantasy came crashing down when he heard a knock at the door. "Colin?" said the familiar voice, the one voice he both longed for and dreaded hearing at a time like this. "Are you in here?"

"Just a m-minute, Nev, I-I've got stuff developing!" Colin stammered, quickly rinsing off his hand and scrambling into his robes. He stuffed the rest of his uniform under a chair, hoping that Neville wouldn't see that he was barefoot, then took a deep breath and opening the door.

Nev was standing in the dim hallway, cheeks slightly pink, hair looking just as windblown as it had out by the lake half an hour ago. "I d-didn't mean to in-interrupt," Neville said, holding up a hand containing one of Colin's familiar little black film canisters. "B-but you d-dropped this when you l-left."

"Oh," said Colin, oddly disappointed. "Thanks, Neville."

Neville peered around him, into the red-lit depths of the darkroom. "C-could I have a look? I've al-always wondered what it was l-like in here."

Somehow, Neville's shy stuttering gave Colin the confidence he'd been missing. "Sure," he said, stepping back and opening the door, all thoughts of his previous activity shoved aside in favor of showing his hobby off to the one person he most wanted to be interested in it. "It's a lot like Muggle photography, only you develop the film in a special potion," he said, closing the door behind Neville and turning around to grab an album of random, harmless shots of their classmates off a shelf. "It doesn't do much for landscapes but I love the way the people in the photos interact."

He turned back around to find Neville standing, staring avidly at the photograph he'd left pinned to the drying line. The tiny Neville in it seemed to be eagerly miming something horribly incriminating to his original. "Oh god, Nev, I... I..."

Neville watched the frantically gesturing photo, and Colin bit his lip, hoping the lack of words would keep Nev from figuring out what he'd been doing. "You... you wank t-t-to me?" said Neville, not turning around. "You... and my picture... together? Just now?" His voice got steadily higher until it was nearly a squeak on the final word.

Colin sighed, defeated. "Yeah," he said quietly, cheeks burning. "I never had the guts to give it a go with the real thing, but when I saw you like that, t-tossing off in the shower... I had my camera, and I'd taken a shot before I even really knew what I was doing. And once it was developed, there you were, everything I'd f-fantasized about..." he trailed off, unsure if his babbled explanation was helping or hurting.

"You fantasized about me?" Neville asked incredulously. "Y-you can see me, right there. I-I-I... I'm nothing. I'm fat and ugly and..."

"You're beautiful," said Colin angrily. "All those warm, inviting curves, that soft-looking skin. You're... you're..." He ripped his robe off, baring his naked body to Neville's startled gaze, all his bony angles, the ribs that you could see in sharp relief even in this low light. "Look at me, I'm just skin and bones. I'd love to be like you."

Colin shivered, suddenly self-conscious as his anger cooled along with his skin, goosebumps rising and nipples pebbling. He crossed his arms over his chest and stood awkwardly, waiting for Neville to hit him, yell, leave, just do something besides stare.

After an interminable time, that was in all likelihood less than two minutes, Neville turned slowly to face him, taking a half-step forward, making them far too close for comfort in the tiny space. Colin had nowhere to back off to, his skinny arse brushing against the worktable behind him already, his cock beginning to fill despite the near terror, just from being out in the open air and within a foot of the object of all of his recent desires. "N-nev?" he said, unable to read whatever emotion it was glittering in those eyes bled colourless by the lights.

Neville reached up, and Colin flinched reflexively away from the shock as warm, sweaty fingers came in contact with the cold flesh of his shoulder. Neville's hand was callused from years of working in the gardens, the rough skin cushioned by the plumpness of his fingers as it drifted down over Colin's chest. Colin tried to hold his breath, but couldn't hold back a gasp as the touch wandered over a nipple and his prick grew hard and hot between his thighs.

"You liked that," said Neville quietly, voice no longer filled with disbelief but wonder instead, as though he'd been shown a new species of plant that would make him good at Transfiguration. Colin wanted to reply, but simply gasped again when those fingers plucked at his other nipple, pinching it lightly just the way Colin did to himself. "You like it when I touch you."

Colin dropped his eyes shyly, cheeks burning. "O-of course I like it, Nev. I've had a c-crush on you since last year," he admitted, then his eyes finally translated the play of shadow on shadow before him into shapes, things. Into Nev's prick, tenting out the front of his robes, just as hard and needy as Colin's. His head shot up, eyes wide, teeth sinking into his lip as Nev pinched his nipple again. "You like touching me!"

Neville nodded, peering shyly up through his long, dark lashes. He looked as though he might want to say something more but thought better of it. Instead Neville tugged on Colin's nipple hard enough to make him whimper and found his lips for a soft, sweet kiss. Colin thought he might have started to swear just at how good it was, but his words were lost as Nev's tongue found its way into his mouth and began a tentative exploration. Colin returned the favour and finally unwrapped his arms from his own chest to wrap them around Neville's neck.

Neville moaned into the kiss, pressing their bodies together, the workbench digging unnoticed into Colin's backside as he let his weight collapse against it, legs spreading of their own accord to fit Neville's bulk between them. "S'nice," whispered Nev against his lips, the fingers of one hand still busily tormenting his nipples while the other hand threaded itself in his hair, pulling his head back so that deceptively sharp teeth could nip at his throat. Colin had never felt so naked, so vulnerable, or so aroused, in his entire life.

Colin's hips thrust upwards of their own accord, scraping the sensitive head of his prick over the rough wool of Neville's robes and making him groan. "N-nev?" he said, not sure if talking was all right, not really having any idea of what the etiquette was for necking with another bloke in a tiny darkroom, especially if you were the only one naked, bits exposed to chilly air heavy with the fumes from developing potions.

"Yeah?" Nev asked, pulling back slightly, face apprehensive.

Colin took a deep breath, figuring the worst that could happen would be if Nev left him like this and he went back to what he'd been doing with the photo. "C-could you maybe..." words failed him and he tugged ineffectually on the front of Neville's robes, trying to convey what he wanted; skin on skin, to finally feel what he'd seen so many times in the photograph.

Nev's expression melted into a sort of nervous need, and Colin felt Nev's prick twitch beneath the layers of fabric, sending a thrill of desire through him. Neville nodded, and Colin thought he might be blushing, although it was hard to tell in the ruddy glow from his Lumos. Nev's hands, those plump fingers that Colin so admired, began to work awkwardly at the clasps. Shyly, Colin let his own hands drift down the front of Nev's robes, palms gliding over the rounded hills of Neville's chest and belly.

Colin thought he might die from the anticipation as each button parted, revealing more of Neville's rumpled white uniform shirt, one less layer between Colin and his goal. Once Neville got to the bottom of the buttons, he shrugged out of the robe, letting it fall to the floor to pool next to Colin's, lost in the shadows. Colin felt the fabric pull out from under his hands, leaving them resting on the scratchy fabric of Nev's trousers, and something finally made him brave enough to move his right hand inwards, cupping Nev's cock.

"Fuck," Nev swore, and then, "Fuuuck," again, a low moan this time as Colin squeezed. Colin felt a swell of power and lust, that his touch could get such a reaction from the normally quiet, soft-spoken boy.

"Please," said Colin, stroking him through the cloth, "I want to feel your skin." Neville's responsiveness made him bold, suddenly the words he'd never needed to say to the photograph fell easily from his lips, faced with the real item.

Neville leaned forward, silencing Colin with a wet, soft kiss, his lips awkward and perfect against Colin's own. Nev's hands worked frantically now at his shirt, tugging it up out of his waistband and finally just pulling the whole thing over his head half-unbuttoned. "Fuck," he said again, when their chests finally came in contact.

Colin sighed happily at the feel of Nev's warm skin and soft, perfect flesh pressing into his own bony frame. "Better than anything," he murmured into Neville's mouth, smoothing his left hand up over Neville's rounded belly to find and toy with a nipple. The right kept on stroking Nev through his trousers; Colin wasn't quite brave enough to reach inside.

Neville made a little noise of frustration in his throat and yanked at his zip, getting the button open and shoving his pants and trousers down together. They both sighed with pleasure as Colin's hand finally closed around the prick he'd spent the last several months admiring, and Colin squeaked in an utterly undignified manner when Neville reciprocated, his grip firm, the padded calluses of his hands completely different from Colin's own skinny, potion-softened fingers.

"Perfect," Colin moaned, and it was, so perfect, everything he'd ever thought Neville could be and more. He wasn't going to last, he knew, so he set to work on Neville, hand pumping with as much dexterity as he could muster for the unfamiliar, backwards shape of Neville's cock. His orgasm was building fast, the situation, hell, Nev's actual presence in the room, was nearly enough even without the fumbling hand on his own prick.

Neville stopped the kiss to pant, then buried his face in the curve of Colin's neck. "God, Colin, I'm going to..." he gasped out, then spilled hot fluid over Colin's hand, the scent of semen turning the sharper chemical potions smell into something Colin thought would make him hard every single time he developed photographs from now on.

"Yes," Colin whispered, coming all over Neville's hand, his stomach, and quite possibly the pile of clothing on the floor. "Yes," he said again, less frantically and more firmly, then brought his hand up to taste.

Nev's eyes went round, and Colin could see the blush that crept up his cheeks even in the ruddy light. "Does it..."

"'S good," said Colin in between licks. "Sweeter than mine."

Neville brought his own hand up, and Colin sighed at the loss of contact. Nev's tongue flicked out, once, twice, and he nodded. "You're more bitter, like dark chocolate."

It was Colin's turn to have his cheeks flush with heat, and he cupped Nev's face with his licked-clean hand and kissed him deeply, passionately, hips arching up to meet Neville's despite his rapidly softening cock.

Neville put his arms around Colin, leaning into him, pressing him into the bench with pliant weight, and Colin let his hands roam, exploring with touch what his eyes had so long coveted. "Does this mean you're my boyfriend now?" Nev asked, after long minutes of idle kissing and caressing.

"I hope so," Colin replied, kissing him again before adding, "I'd really hate to have to go back to the photo after this."

Neville laughed with him, which was good, and they kissed more, there in that dark room, while Neville's image in the photograph looked on with approval, affection, and a slight wistfulness for his lost companion.

Photo-Neville was forever grateful when, a few days later, a shy and blushing nude of Colin was slipped, face to face, on top of it in the album. Neville and Colin both snuck peeks at them sometimes, and although they were often found in one of their photographs, rarely were both images found separately. In this, like in so many other ways, they were much like the real thing.


Title: A Thousand Words Unspoken
Author:
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Colin/Neville
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slash, underage (16/17), voyeurism, wanking
Summary: Colin finds a change of subjects gives more than just something new to look at.
Notes: Thanks to chasethecat and ygrane for audience and encouragement, and rubyrosered & ladyyare for the beta.



All of the works contained herein are labours of love, unauthorized by those who hold the rights to such things, and no profit is made from them. No harm is meant, and hopefully no offense given.