fic for noticeably: Pauses and Intentions (Harry, Neville, PG)
Title: Pauses and Intentions
Author: tulleskirt
Recipient: noticeably
Rating: PG
Characters: Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom
Warnings: Spoilers for Deathly Hallows, one minor bad word.
Author's Notes: Hey there mystery giftee-I really liked your prompts, but I couldn't decide whether to do Harry-and-Teddy, Neville-after-the-war, or something else entirely…so I tried to combine them. As such, I hope I didn't shortchange any of your hopes for this fic. I don't write Neville very often, so it was definitely a learning experience…Hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it! To the mods, thanks for running such a fun fest and putting up with my extension drama. My application is nice and sent now.
--
It was a sodden, herald-of-winter day when they finally decided to talk. Harry remembers the cat that hissed at him as he walked towards the small cafe, remembers how the air seemed marbled with cold. He didn't bother with a jacket, just an old Quidditch sweater as he walked from his apartment to Lalita's Tea and Coffee. His hands were raw and too big for his jean pockets; he couldn't remember when that had happened.
Neville was sitting in the back. He looked uncomfortable in his delicate chair and cut the waitress off too quickly when she asked if he needed anything else (followed by a prompt, pink-faced apology). His eyes glinted as Harry entered, wending his way through the scroll-legged tables and steaming mugs of tea.
"Hi," Neville said as Harry sat down.
Harry stared at Neville's teacup, and an answer tripped its way out of his mouth. "Long time, eh?"
"Yeah, long time."
The two boys sat through an ineloquent silence. Finally: "How's, uh...Hannah? Are you still dating her?"
"Oh, yeah." Neville ran his thumbnail up and down the pad of his index finger. "She's good. I, uh, just went to meet her parents." He laughed weakly.
Harry smiled and wondered when the waitress was going to show up. "Sounds like fun...no one punched anyone, I hope?"
"Kinda thought her mum was close to it a few times..."
They smiled at each other. Neville cleared his throat as the waitress bobbed over to take Harry's order. The rain thrummed overhead, and Harry felt suddenly very conspicuous in his Quidditch sweater, woven with the sweat of years past. How did he still fit into it but not his jeans? Had he really not grown past the age of sixteen above the waist? And Neville was glancing anywhere but his face. The chatter of the coffeehouse seemed dim and faraway; he wondered how long he would be here.
"How're Ron and Hermione? I haven't heard much from them in a while."
"Oh, they're fine." Harry paused. "Hermione's got a job with the Ministry now."
"Already? At nineteen?"
"Yeah, but you know...she's Hermione." They nodded at each other.
"So, how's your gra--"
Apruptly, Neville spoke. "This is ridiculous."
Harry started. "What?"
"This, come on. We're not really talking about...what we're wanting to."
He paused. Harry stared. "Well...what are you...wanting to talk about?"
"I don't know...life, you know. I just figured maybe you wanted to. The, you know...the war, jobs, stuff..." Neville took a long pull from his mug. "People have stopped talking to me."
"What?"
"Reporters, you know...in the first few days it was insane, people after me for my autograph, even..." Neville laughed under his breath. "Girls, I couldn't believe it. People forgot I was Neville Longbottom, you know?"
Harry shrugged, then nodded, then stilled awkwardly. "Yeah, people wanted me to kiss their babies. But Neville, I mean...you lopped off the head of that snake, you were...c'mon, Neville, you kind of deserved it."
The boy in question shrugged. "I guess...Well, I do. I know that." He cocked his head slightly and gazed at some indistinct point over Harry's shoulder. "You know what I kept thinking, in those first few months?"
"What?"
"I kept thinking, 'this must be what it's like to be Harry.'"
Harry looked down embarrassedly, thought, why does it always come back to this? "It's not like that all the time--"
"No, but I was famous. Everyone kept wanting to make me into this...this sword-wielding hero--"
"Neville, you were."
"I know, but they..."
"Well no, I mean--I know what you mean."
"Yeah."
The waitress finally sashayed over and slid a mug of tea in front of Harry. He sipped it for something to do, but Neville was clearly waiting for him to offer something more than smalltalk.
"Neville..." Harry drummed his fingers along the mug's handle. "I don't know what you want me to say. It's been two years, things are going...they're going as well as they can."
“I know…”
Neville looked somehow lost then, like an irresistable force was pushing him in an indecipherable direction. He curled a hand around the nape of his neck.
They sat like that for a long time, in silence. Harry watched the rain arrow down, an odd irritation squirming in his stomach. He was tired, so tired of people wanting him to say something, to do something profound, people wanting him to act like the war was still going on. Couldn't anyone progress? Couldn't anyone leave him alone after he'd killed the damn monster under the bed and called it a night?
"Harry--"
"Neville, stop. Just stop." Harry closed his eyes and put a hand to his hairline for a moment. "I don't know what you want me to say. The war was…bad, obviously, but I've dealt with it--or I've tried to, but people keep wanting me to...I don't mean to be rude but I have other things to do today. Please, just tell me what you want me to say or I'm just going to leave because I have a Class 3 Field Test to practice for and--"
"Class 3 Field Test?" Neville looked oddly quiet at the rest of the diatribe, and Harry couldn't help but feel a little angrier.
"Auror stuff, it's not--"
"You're studying to be an Auror?"
"Oh--yeah." Harry watched as Neville's eyes widened. "I'm in my Concealment Trials right now and I can't use my Cloak, so it's hard stuff."
"I remember that Cloak." Neville looked down briefly, then up, his face suddenly suffused with a strange resolve. "Look, Harry, I'm sorry if I'm annoying you."
"Yeah...well, thanks."
"I just felt like we sort of...came from a similar place." He took a visibly deep breath. "I know about the prophecy. All of it."
Harry's eyes snapped open and he looked Neville full in the face. "Wh...wait, all of it, or--"
"All of it. How it could've been me." Neville's gaze stayed down this time. "I felt like I needed to talk with you. About anything, it doesn't matter. Where are you living now?"
"Neville, who told you--"
"It's not important."
"It..." Harry sighed. "Not too far from here, in a flat off Poplar Street."
"That's a nice area. How're you...I heard you're the godfather to Professor Lupin's son."
Harry smiled slightly at the mention of his godson. "Yeah, that's right. Teddy."
"He's not--living with you?"
"What?" Harry almost laughed at the image of himself changing nappies and shoving a crib between his Firebolt and old schoolbooks. "God, no. Teddy lives with his grandmother. He'd probably turn out to be a total prat if I raised him, honestly."
Neville actually laughed at that. "Does his hair change like his mum's?"
"All the time, it's a bit eerie. It was purple yesterday, but he seems to like blue. And he keeps making his fingernails grow about three feet."
Neville grinned. "Does he have Weird Sisters nappies?"
"Weird Sisters nappies..." Harry smiled a bit sadly at the memory of Teddy's fuschia-haired mother. "Nah, but his mum did leave him her collection of Damn Doxies albums. I played them for him once--it's actually what got him to walk, you know? If I put on the Weird Sisters I think he'd come out toilet-trained."
Neville laughed again, and Harry was suddenly struck by the monopoly of the conversation so far. "But come on Neville, enough about me messing up toddlers. What're you doing?"
Neville shrugged. "I don't know, just sort of figuring things out..."
"Neville, the prophecy...it doesn't even matter, they were just words. You probably did a hell of a lot more than I did in the end, with the DA and the snake and everything..."
"Don't even say that, Harry." Neville's eyes were hard, suddenly. "You don't..." All the air seemed to rush from him and he sunk back into his chair. Harry watched something indecisive play about the corners of his mouth.
When he spoke, Neville's voice was just clearing strident. "You have no idea what you--you three, really--meant to us, that year. It's half the reason we kept going, the knowledge that somewhere, you guys hadn't given up. What it meant to the whole world, Harry. I know you don't like to hear it--I really know, now--but I...I grew up hearing stories about you. We all did."
There was a long, tremulous silence. Harry cleared his throat and the noise of their fellow customers seemed to bubble around them. Outside, the world was lashed with rain and they both watched it for a while as neither could fill the sudden gulf in the conversation.
"How do you deal with it?" Neville asked, apruptly.
Harry watched the rivulets of rain meander slowly down the window. "With what?"
"You know."
He sighed. "I don't know...I mean, it was terrible those first few weeks. Months, even. But...you just go on, I guess. You try to do what you think they wanted. I show Teddy pictures of his mum and dad, and I try..." He loses his voice for a moment. "I try to do what I wanted...to be done for me, when I was a kid. I tell him the story about the boggart a lot, you know. Your boggart. How Tonks used to mess with her nose to make us laugh."
He paused for what seemed like a long time.
"I'm just trying to move on."
Neville gazed into his teacup again, but didn't speak. Neither of them did.
Finally: "I'm looking to be a professor, you know."
Harry looked up from where he had similarly been studying his coffee grounds. "Really? That's...that's really great, Neville. Herbology?"
"Yeah, it was the only thing I was ever really good at."
"Besides beheading pythons, you mean."
Neville smiled, genuinely. "I suppose so."
"That's great...how'd you go about asking for it?"
"Actually..." At this, Neville grinned and looked Harry straight in the eyes. "Professor Sprout's decided to retire and she's asked me to take over her post."
"Seriously? Neville, wow. You really did impress her."
"Yeah..." The scarless boy smiled into the rain-washed window. "Almost makes me wish Snape were still around, just to see what he'd say."
And here, the two boys laughed.
Author: tulleskirt
Recipient: noticeably
Rating: PG
Characters: Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom
Warnings: Spoilers for Deathly Hallows, one minor bad word.
Author's Notes: Hey there mystery giftee-I really liked your prompts, but I couldn't decide whether to do Harry-and-Teddy, Neville-after-the-war, or something else entirely…so I tried to combine them. As such, I hope I didn't shortchange any of your hopes for this fic. I don't write Neville very often, so it was definitely a learning experience…Hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it! To the mods, thanks for running such a fun fest and putting up with my extension drama. My application is nice and sent now.
--
It was a sodden, herald-of-winter day when they finally decided to talk. Harry remembers the cat that hissed at him as he walked towards the small cafe, remembers how the air seemed marbled with cold. He didn't bother with a jacket, just an old Quidditch sweater as he walked from his apartment to Lalita's Tea and Coffee. His hands were raw and too big for his jean pockets; he couldn't remember when that had happened.
Neville was sitting in the back. He looked uncomfortable in his delicate chair and cut the waitress off too quickly when she asked if he needed anything else (followed by a prompt, pink-faced apology). His eyes glinted as Harry entered, wending his way through the scroll-legged tables and steaming mugs of tea.
"Hi," Neville said as Harry sat down.
Harry stared at Neville's teacup, and an answer tripped its way out of his mouth. "Long time, eh?"
"Yeah, long time."
The two boys sat through an ineloquent silence. Finally: "How's, uh...Hannah? Are you still dating her?"
"Oh, yeah." Neville ran his thumbnail up and down the pad of his index finger. "She's good. I, uh, just went to meet her parents." He laughed weakly.
Harry smiled and wondered when the waitress was going to show up. "Sounds like fun...no one punched anyone, I hope?"
"Kinda thought her mum was close to it a few times..."
They smiled at each other. Neville cleared his throat as the waitress bobbed over to take Harry's order. The rain thrummed overhead, and Harry felt suddenly very conspicuous in his Quidditch sweater, woven with the sweat of years past. How did he still fit into it but not his jeans? Had he really not grown past the age of sixteen above the waist? And Neville was glancing anywhere but his face. The chatter of the coffeehouse seemed dim and faraway; he wondered how long he would be here.
"How're Ron and Hermione? I haven't heard much from them in a while."
"Oh, they're fine." Harry paused. "Hermione's got a job with the Ministry now."
"Already? At nineteen?"
"Yeah, but you know...she's Hermione." They nodded at each other.
"So, how's your gra--"
Apruptly, Neville spoke. "This is ridiculous."
Harry started. "What?"
"This, come on. We're not really talking about...what we're wanting to."
He paused. Harry stared. "Well...what are you...wanting to talk about?"
"I don't know...life, you know. I just figured maybe you wanted to. The, you know...the war, jobs, stuff..." Neville took a long pull from his mug. "People have stopped talking to me."
"What?"
"Reporters, you know...in the first few days it was insane, people after me for my autograph, even..." Neville laughed under his breath. "Girls, I couldn't believe it. People forgot I was Neville Longbottom, you know?"
Harry shrugged, then nodded, then stilled awkwardly. "Yeah, people wanted me to kiss their babies. But Neville, I mean...you lopped off the head of that snake, you were...c'mon, Neville, you kind of deserved it."
The boy in question shrugged. "I guess...Well, I do. I know that." He cocked his head slightly and gazed at some indistinct point over Harry's shoulder. "You know what I kept thinking, in those first few months?"
"What?"
"I kept thinking, 'this must be what it's like to be Harry.'"
Harry looked down embarrassedly, thought, why does it always come back to this? "It's not like that all the time--"
"No, but I was famous. Everyone kept wanting to make me into this...this sword-wielding hero--"
"Neville, you were."
"I know, but they..."
"Well no, I mean--I know what you mean."
"Yeah."
The waitress finally sashayed over and slid a mug of tea in front of Harry. He sipped it for something to do, but Neville was clearly waiting for him to offer something more than smalltalk.
"Neville..." Harry drummed his fingers along the mug's handle. "I don't know what you want me to say. It's been two years, things are going...they're going as well as they can."
“I know…”
Neville looked somehow lost then, like an irresistable force was pushing him in an indecipherable direction. He curled a hand around the nape of his neck.
They sat like that for a long time, in silence. Harry watched the rain arrow down, an odd irritation squirming in his stomach. He was tired, so tired of people wanting him to say something, to do something profound, people wanting him to act like the war was still going on. Couldn't anyone progress? Couldn't anyone leave him alone after he'd killed the damn monster under the bed and called it a night?
"Harry--"
"Neville, stop. Just stop." Harry closed his eyes and put a hand to his hairline for a moment. "I don't know what you want me to say. The war was…bad, obviously, but I've dealt with it--or I've tried to, but people keep wanting me to...I don't mean to be rude but I have other things to do today. Please, just tell me what you want me to say or I'm just going to leave because I have a Class 3 Field Test to practice for and--"
"Class 3 Field Test?" Neville looked oddly quiet at the rest of the diatribe, and Harry couldn't help but feel a little angrier.
"Auror stuff, it's not--"
"You're studying to be an Auror?"
"Oh--yeah." Harry watched as Neville's eyes widened. "I'm in my Concealment Trials right now and I can't use my Cloak, so it's hard stuff."
"I remember that Cloak." Neville looked down briefly, then up, his face suddenly suffused with a strange resolve. "Look, Harry, I'm sorry if I'm annoying you."
"Yeah...well, thanks."
"I just felt like we sort of...came from a similar place." He took a visibly deep breath. "I know about the prophecy. All of it."
Harry's eyes snapped open and he looked Neville full in the face. "Wh...wait, all of it, or--"
"All of it. How it could've been me." Neville's gaze stayed down this time. "I felt like I needed to talk with you. About anything, it doesn't matter. Where are you living now?"
"Neville, who told you--"
"It's not important."
"It..." Harry sighed. "Not too far from here, in a flat off Poplar Street."
"That's a nice area. How're you...I heard you're the godfather to Professor Lupin's son."
Harry smiled slightly at the mention of his godson. "Yeah, that's right. Teddy."
"He's not--living with you?"
"What?" Harry almost laughed at the image of himself changing nappies and shoving a crib between his Firebolt and old schoolbooks. "God, no. Teddy lives with his grandmother. He'd probably turn out to be a total prat if I raised him, honestly."
Neville actually laughed at that. "Does his hair change like his mum's?"
"All the time, it's a bit eerie. It was purple yesterday, but he seems to like blue. And he keeps making his fingernails grow about three feet."
Neville grinned. "Does he have Weird Sisters nappies?"
"Weird Sisters nappies..." Harry smiled a bit sadly at the memory of Teddy's fuschia-haired mother. "Nah, but his mum did leave him her collection of Damn Doxies albums. I played them for him once--it's actually what got him to walk, you know? If I put on the Weird Sisters I think he'd come out toilet-trained."
Neville laughed again, and Harry was suddenly struck by the monopoly of the conversation so far. "But come on Neville, enough about me messing up toddlers. What're you doing?"
Neville shrugged. "I don't know, just sort of figuring things out..."
"Neville, the prophecy...it doesn't even matter, they were just words. You probably did a hell of a lot more than I did in the end, with the DA and the snake and everything..."
"Don't even say that, Harry." Neville's eyes were hard, suddenly. "You don't..." All the air seemed to rush from him and he sunk back into his chair. Harry watched something indecisive play about the corners of his mouth.
When he spoke, Neville's voice was just clearing strident. "You have no idea what you--you three, really--meant to us, that year. It's half the reason we kept going, the knowledge that somewhere, you guys hadn't given up. What it meant to the whole world, Harry. I know you don't like to hear it--I really know, now--but I...I grew up hearing stories about you. We all did."
There was a long, tremulous silence. Harry cleared his throat and the noise of their fellow customers seemed to bubble around them. Outside, the world was lashed with rain and they both watched it for a while as neither could fill the sudden gulf in the conversation.
"How do you deal with it?" Neville asked, apruptly.
Harry watched the rivulets of rain meander slowly down the window. "With what?"
"You know."
He sighed. "I don't know...I mean, it was terrible those first few weeks. Months, even. But...you just go on, I guess. You try to do what you think they wanted. I show Teddy pictures of his mum and dad, and I try..." He loses his voice for a moment. "I try to do what I wanted...to be done for me, when I was a kid. I tell him the story about the boggart a lot, you know. Your boggart. How Tonks used to mess with her nose to make us laugh."
He paused for what seemed like a long time.
"I'm just trying to move on."
Neville gazed into his teacup again, but didn't speak. Neither of them did.
Finally: "I'm looking to be a professor, you know."
Harry looked up from where he had similarly been studying his coffee grounds. "Really? That's...that's really great, Neville. Herbology?"
"Yeah, it was the only thing I was ever really good at."
"Besides beheading pythons, you mean."
Neville smiled, genuinely. "I suppose so."
"That's great...how'd you go about asking for it?"
"Actually..." At this, Neville grinned and looked Harry straight in the eyes. "Professor Sprout's decided to retire and she's asked me to take over her post."
"Seriously? Neville, wow. You really did impress her."
"Yeah..." The scarless boy smiled into the rain-washed window. "Almost makes me wish Snape were still around, just to see what he'd say."
And here, the two boys laughed.