T.T.T.H.T.O.T.
They started off backwards, because Neville's rather certain that's the only way he knows how to do anything. Not that he's completely pear-shaped, but on occasion, he tends to be a bit slow on the uptake, and he knew that Hermione couldn't possibly need any help in Herbology, but he waited for her in Greenhouse Four for an hour on Saturday anyway, and she didn't show. But Ron did. And Hermione knew how Neville felt about Ron, and just because she'd taken up with Ginny and Harry was off with Terry Boot, or was it Seamus this week? At any rate, it all made the sort of interfering sense that made Neville's stomach curl up in dragon-hide knots, because he expected better of his mates than to muck him about this way, but clearly he was wrong. And then the flowers began humming and Professor Sprout's Beguiling Blackbird began reciting poems from Merlin knew where. It was entirely too much overkill for anyone, which was obviously why Ron was hovering in the doorway, and just beyond him, Neville could see it starting to snow.
Things like this didn't happen to boys like him, because he knew better. He knew a good opening when Merlin gave it to him, and nobody wanted to be known as That Thing That Happened That One Time. No one wanted to be what people whispered about in passing or gossiped about over tea; Neville knew that.
He knew that he didn't want for his hopes and dreams, and unrequited crushes that hadn't quiet died yet, to be fodder for his fellow sixth-years. People didn't want that sort of defeat to follow them wherever they went, so he ran away, because it was The Smart Thing to Do.
When Neville found Hermione in the library, it took him ages just to get himself together to give her what for. Not that he was prone to shouting and certainly not at her, especially since he'd interrupted her snogging Ginny in the Occlumency section, but he was bit vexed by the entire business. Not about the snogging, since that only gave credit to the speculation about Madam Pince and Professor Vector, but about the Ron business.
Yes, he wanted what she had, but not like this. Not in that pity-snogging way, which was what would have inevitably happened when he went to snog Ron and Ron pulled away in disgust. No one wanted to kiss someone else and see their face screw up in repulsion. That would just suck. That would just be unbearable, and Neville'd had enough unbearable things happen to him, thanks all the same. Even the books agreed that it was cruel to set up someone and not tell them what was coming, and it took Hermione half an hour to convince Neville that Ron fancied him back, but Neville knew better. It didn't happen that often, but he could sense when someone was just trying to tell him what he wanted to hear.
A little encouragement can go a long way, unless it turns out the person isn't winking at you, and in fact, has something in their eye, so when Ron's enormous green eyes crinkled in Neville's direction over dinner, Neville chalked it up to Invisible Lint Sprites and looked away before going back to his roast chicken and potatoes. And when Hermione kicked him under the table and Ginny scowled, he pretended to have no idea what they were on about. He wasn't interested in being anybody's fool.
When written out longhand, That Thing That Happened That One Time looked pretty menacing, like a book that should've been found in the Restricted section of the library.
To Neville, it sounded like something that his gran might've used to refer to an unfortunate incident with his Uncle Algie and cats and brooms and too many Obliviate charms. And when he tried to abbreviate it, it didn't look like much of anything at all. It had too many consonants and not enough vowels and instead of copying down his Charms assignment, Neville stared at his parchment over and over again from different angles, trying to decide if he wanted to be known as some unintelligible squiggle on paper.
He resolutely didn't look across the room at Ron, because that would just be asking for trouble.
When Neville tried to shorten That Thing That Happened That One Time, it came out to be 3T H.O.T, which really meant fuck all, and sounded like something the Weasley twins might've cooked up in the Gryffindor bathroom or a wizard skin magazine that came with gloves lest someone catch on fire or all that nonsense. Even Neville'd heard the story of the poor sod who tossed off so much that his dick caught on fire and he had to have his mum take him to St. Mungo's.
Neville had never seen a heffalump before, but he reckoned he would know one if he opened the door to the Room of Requirement one afternoon and got charged by one. The same sort of logic applied when he found himself cornered by Hermione, Ginny and Luna Lovegood of all people in Greenhouse Three late on a Tuesday afternoon. He'd never been involved in an intervention before, but after all the times his Aunt Betsy had been sent off to St Mathilda's Home for the Chemically Inclined, he knew one when he was subjected to it.
In Neville's experience, being limited to living vicariously through his mates and his plants as it was, all the work tended to lie in finding someone to fancy and then some how convincing them to fancy you back. He was at a complete and utter loss for what to do without having to work for it, but the morning he left the tower early to check on his Bombastic Bluebells and found Ron practicing on the Quidditch pitch, it seemed much easier than everyone else made it out to be.
There was frost on the stands and his nose went a bit numb as he watched Ron swooping back and forth with the Quaffle, but the moment when Ron noticed he was watching and flew directly over was as close to perfect as Neville reckoned things were liable to get.
Neville had never snogged someone while they were hovering before him on a broom. Of course he hadn't actually snogged anyone before full stop, but in for a knut in for a galleon and all that, so when Ron moved close enough, Neville reached out and pulled him even closer.
The hesitation in their kiss that Neville had been expecting wasn't there, but neither was the skill. Ron was a messy kisser, and his lips were a little wet and cold; it was a bit like kissing a fish. But after a few seconds, Neville began to get into it and Ron's tongue flickered along his bottom lip, and even if Ron's lips were cold, inside his mouth was warm, and he tasted of pumpkin juice and marmalade.
Ron panted a bit harshly when Neville reluctantly pulled away.
"I don't want to be known as That Thing That Happened That One Time," Neville said, as Ron stared at him with something akin to shock on his face.
Ron blinked and then smiled before leaning back in. "Then I should probably snog you again, yeah?"
Neville thought for a moment. "That might be a good idea."