FIC: The Enchanted Forest (Regulus/Neville - 5361 - PG-13)
Title: The Enchanted Forest
Author/Artist: ???
Pairing(s): Regulus Black/Neville Longbottom
Prompt: this image (pairing: any combination of Remus, Severus, Regulus, Sirius, James sr., Peter, Draco, Percy, Oliver, Goyle, Neville.; YEAR: 2013)
Word Count/Art Medium: 5361
Rating: PG-13
Contains (Highlight to view): *internalized fatphobia, mentioned fantastical racism, mentioned/implied sexual content *
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Neville isn’t sure how he got saddled with Regulus Black. And the worst part is that he doesn't hate him. He expected to, but in truth, he finds him perfectly companionable. So when Regulus asks him about some enchanted forest, Neville only hesitates for a moment before agreeing.
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Neville isn’t sure how he got saddled with Regulus Black.
Technically, he knows how it happened. Harry wanted to save everyone, as he always did (and Neville still can’t quite fault him for it), so he’d gone and asked every expert he could find about potentially reviving a lake full of inferi, which included Regulus Black (who hadn’t aged a day since 1979 and had the memories to match).
And Neville, as both a Pureblood from a family held in high esteem on both sides (even though no one in his family hadn’t supported the Order, or the Ministry in the First War), and as a former member - well, leader - of the D.A., was enlisted to help get him up to speed and adjusted to modern wizarding life.
He would love to say he volunteered, but really, his friends volunteered his help for him.
The worst part is that he actually doesn’t hate it.
And he doesn’t hate Regulus Black.
He expected to.
He doesn’t like Draco Malfoy, even though Malfoy’s on cordial terms with Harry and Hermione now (Ron, like Neville, seems more hesitant to forgive and forget). He doesn’t think any of the stories he’s heard of Sirius Black are all that funny, either. In fact, Neville’s first encounter with Sirius had been one of the most terrifying moments of his life thus far, even if he does feel bad for Harry that Sirius had died.
Regulus is Bellatrix Lestrange’s cousin. He was a Death Eater, and when he’d been revived, no one had thought to ask him just why he’d turned away. If it had just been for a girl, like Snape had, if it hadn’t been because of any actual moral integrity or change of heart. (Neville still can’t bring himself to forgive Snape for anything, either, but that’s neither here nor there).
But Regulus Black is - well, he’s nice. And if Neville’s being completely honest, he’s a bit of a nerd. And he’s had multiple long, drawn out conversations with Hermione about House Elf welfare, of all things.
To be sure, he speaks with the same polished accent most of the Sacred Twenty-Eight pride themselves on. His posture is always perfect, and he never has a hair out of place. Since he’s gotten his own money, his robes have never once been less than impeccably tailored. He’ll say absurdly obnoxious things from time to time (though more in the form of name-dropping or acting as if every Pureblood family understands just what the fuck is wrong with the Blacks to be the way they are)...
And yet Neville finds him perfectly companionable.
This isn’t hurt by the fact that Regulus told him, nonchalantly, that he’d joined the Death Eaters when he was just a child, and that he hadn’t been given much of a choice, and the reality of systematic racism, violence, and murder had been too much to stomach from the very start. That he’d wanted out as soon as he’d got in. That, because he was a Slytherin, he’d closed off his thoughts and bided his time and searched for any sort of weakness or vulnerability that Voldemort might show.
That even if Voldemort hadn’t nearly killed Kreacher, he’d have probably died trying to take him down anyway. That Kreacher had just been the icing on the cake, so to speak.
Which all serves to put Neville more at ease. Regulus isn’t like Snape (he’s horrified at Neville’s stories of Snape as a professor). He’s not like Bellatrix (he calls her “mental” and “seriously deranged”). He’s not like Sirius, or Malfoy, or anyone Neville has ever met before.
So when Regulus asks him about some enchanted forest, Neville only hesitates for a moment before agreeing.
It’s not in Britain. Regulus isn’t even quite sure it exists, but he’s made it clear if it does exist, he wants to see it. Neville, for his part, is interested in the qualities of this magical flora that may or may not actually exist.
They leave on Boxing Day. Neville packs for a long trip and hopes for a short one. Not that he really minds spending time with Regulus, but considering Regulus isn’t even sure this forest exists, he doesn’t want to be wandering through the wilderness for too long.
Regulus thinks it’s somewhere in Scandinavia, and they both do research to narrow it down a little bit, to try to find it a little sooner, if it does, in fact, exist.
Really, sometimes Neville can forget he’s essentially been enlisted as Regulus’s babysitter.
They don’t bother with the major cities. Neither of them see much of a point to it. Neville has a rather nice tent with two beds, though there’s only one sleeping area, and a fully stocked pantry, and it’s hardly as if a mythical, magical forest is going to be straight in the middle of Helsinki.
They spend three days searching. They’re long, hard days, with loads of hiking, map-checking, and a few check-ins at local Wizarding villages to ask questions.
On the fourth day, they find some clues that seem to indicate that the forest may be real. It’s meant to only glow for a few weeks each year - two before and two following the winter solstice.
It takes them over eighteen hours of nonstop searching from that point to find it, and when they do, they are both too exhausted to do much of anything. Regulus pitches the tent, as it’s his turn, and Neville falls asleep the second his head hits the pillow.
They’re far enough north that the sun doesn’t rise until rather late in the day, so Neville isn’t terribly surprised when he wakes up to a pitch black room, or when Regulus’s bed is empty and neatly made when Neville casts Lumos to give some light.
He pads out to the main room, through a double set of flaps, where Regulus is sitting by the stove, lamps lit, reading a book.
“Morning,” he says. “Kettle’s almost up.”
“Thanks, but I think I should shower first,” Neville says.
“All right,” Regulus says. “I’ll get started on breakfast then.”
Neville smiles. “Thank you.”
He goes back to the little bathroom. He has to fill the tank and cast a spell to set the water running, but both he and Regulus prefer showers to baths, so it really only made sense to install the shower set-up before they left.
He showers so long that he has to replenish the water twice (thinking on it now, he’s not sure whether he’s showered the past few days or if he’s just been too exhausted), and when he gets out, he allows himself the small pleasure of wrapping himself up in a fluffy bathrobe.
He doesn’t bother to dress properly before going out to the great room. Regulus is at the range, cooking something that smells delicious.
“I thought it best to wait until I heard the water stop running,” Regulus says.
Neville feels himself blush. “I think that was probably the right move.” He didn’t anticipate showering that long, but once he got in, it was just so warm and pleasant.
Regulus glances over to him, and Neville can see the way his gaze lingers for just a moment too long before he turns his head away.
Neville knows that Regulus is gay. It’s something they’ve discussed before. Neville also knows that Regulus knows he’s bi. He just doesn’t see why that would matter. Neville isn’t exactly what anyone in their right mind would call “attractive”.
He’s too fat and clumsy and his hair never sits right and his beard is patchy (and he looks worse without one) and that’s not even taking into account all of his scars and freckles and stretch marks.
And Regulus has seen him in nothing but his pants. It’s not like he can believe Neville is hiding a fit, toned body under his bathrobe. He’s seen the fat and the scars and the stretch marks.
Just as Neville has seen Regulus in nothing but his pants, and he knows that Regulus is lean and toned, with just the right amount of thick (not patchy) black hair. The only thing marring Regulus’s otherwise perfect body is his Dark Mark, which he keeps covered almost all the time.
Regulus is way out of Neville’s league.
Hell, Luna was way out of Neville’s league, and they dated for a whole year - and Neville was the one to end that relationship. Even though they’re just friends now, Neville still doesn’t know what Luna ever saw in him.
And even though Regulus is a gay ex-Death Eater, surely he can do better, too.
At the very least, there’s no reason for him to be attracted to Neville.
Neville can accept that Regulus seems to genuinely like him as a person, and even as a friend. He knows he’s got worth as a human being, and that he’s kind and brave and he’s apparently a good leader when it comes down to it, and that people think he’s a good friend. But that’s different from attraction.
“I’ve been reading up on the legends behind this forest,” Regulus says as he plates their breakfast.
“Oh?”
“It’s meant to grant wishes.”
“Oh,” Neville says. He can think immediately what he’d wish for, and he knows Regulus surely has some ideas of his own.
“It’s rubbish, of course,” Regulus says. “Magic doesn’t work like that. So I rather thought…”
He takes his plate from Regulus and sits down at the table. “It’s a trap?”
“Exactly.”
“So we should be careful,” Neville says.
“Yes,” Regulus says. “Though I’ll ask you not to think less of me if you see me faced with a shade of my brother. Or the boy I fancied at Hogwarts.”
“I won’t.”
It’s daylight when they venture into the forest. Neville isn’t sure yet if the magic comes from flora or fauna - well, he isn’t even sure yet whether the lights and the apparent wish-granting are related at all. Perhaps they’re two distinct phenomena, or phenomena that are intricately linked.
“Perhaps we should have brought Luna,” Neville says as they cross over the threshold.
Regulus squares his shoulders - evident even through his thick winter coat - and his expression is carefully neutral as he says, “I don’t see why.”
“I’ve only a base knowledge of magizoology,” Neville says. “If this is related to a creature - or creatures - well, Luna, Charlie, and Rolf could all be of assistance.”
“Oh,” Regulus says. “Well, I - I’ve got a N.E.W.T. in Care of Magical Creatures.”
This is the first Neville has heard of this. “You have?”
“Yes,” Regulus says. “Though it was, first and foremost, to - well, impress a boy might not be the most apt verbiage. I wanted to be better than him at something he loved.”
Neville raises an eyebrow. “And were you?”
Regulus smiles. “No. But I was good enough that he noticed me, not that anything came of it - well, nothing besides my O in the subject.”
“Something tells me he wasn’t a Slytherin.”
“Oh, Merlin, no,” Regulus says. “And he’s married now. To a wizard.”
“Oh,” Neville says. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. If I hadn’t been such an obnoxious, spoilt, purist arsehole… it’s my own fault that things turned out the way it did. I’ve no one to blame but myself. He’s happy, and - and I’m not dead.”
“Have you spoken to him?”
“What’s the point? It was over twenty years ago to him, and he and his husband seem… really quite happy. Even if - even if he… he’d felt the same way then, which I think is quite unlikely, there’d be no point in me saying anything to him now.”
Neville knows better than to press too much. This is more than Regulus has ever said about this wizard before. “I suppose it’s no longer a secret that you’re alive.”
“No,” Regulus says. “Though I shouldn’t speak ill of Harry’s choices - he could have well taken all of the Black fortune and property - it was rightfully his. He didn’t have to do anything for me.”
“Harry’s like that.”
Regulus rolls his eyes. “You say that like you’re not the same.”
“I’m not.”
“It’s not just the two of you. It’s rather a Gryffindor trait. Going out of your way for people who’ve never done anything like that for you.”
“But… you had,” Neville says. “You - you intended on dying just to stop Voldemort. And considering your upbringing, the fact that you were in Slytherin with loads of people who never would have done the same… most people wouldn’t have done what you did.”
Regulus shrugs. It’s a very undignified response for the sole heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, but Neville rather thinks he likes him best that way.
Neville knows it would be easy - painfully easy - to kiss him and blame it on the magic buzzing all around them if Regulus reacts badly. But he doesn’t do it. He can’t bring himself to do it. Regulus has just been talking about a wizard he’d been mad for at Hogwarts - which had really only been a few years ago to him.
So he does what he does best: he collects some samples to study, talks about magical flora and what might be causing the plants to glow (he already has several ideas), and decides that they should return to the tent before nightfall.
They’re so far north, they really only have a few hours in the forest, but Regulus doesn’t complain. He takes a few photographs, seems to listen attentively to Neville’s theories, and follows his lead.
Their tent is set up near a stream at the edge of the forest, and they can still see the glow from their windows.
It’s Neville’s turn to cook, and Regulus steps outside to take a few more photographs, promising him not to go back into the forest.
When the food is ready, Regulus is still gone, so Neville puts on his coat and goes outside.
Regulus has conjured a chair, and is facing the forest, his camera on the arm of the chair.
“Dinner’s ready,” Neville says.
“Sit down,” Regulus says.
Neville nearly sits on the snowy ground, but Regulus grabs him by his arm and pulls him onto his lap.
“What are you doing?” Neville asks. “I’m going to crush you.”
“You’re not that much bigger than me, and I’m not that delicate,” Regulus says. “I’ll be fine. But look.”
Neville turns his head to look at the forest.
He hadn’t gotten a good look last night, and the sky is black now - the trees are alight in silver and gold, and it is, Neville has to admit, one of the most beautiful sights he’s ever seen.
He forgets his concerns about being too heavy to sit on Regulus’s lap, and lets himself stare.
“Do you know how lucky we are to have found this?”
“We’re pretty sure it kills people,” Neville says, but it is beautiful.
“It can’t kill us from here.”
They don’t know that, though, and Neville nearly says as much. Something stops him. He’s not sure what.
“My cousin used to tell me stories about it,” Regulus says softly.
“Which one?” Neville asks.
“Narcissa. I think Andromeda did, too, before she was disowned, but Narcissa was always more the sort to be enchanted by such things. And I was, too. Of course, in her stories, it was a magical forest that killed Muggles.”
“Of course,” Neville says. “I can’t say I ever grew up on any such stories. Well, magical forests, maybe, but not Muggle-killing ones.”
“No, I suspect that was rather more unique to the House of Black and a select few other families,” Regulus says.
“Probably,” Neville says.
“I suppose you weren’t taught that the Hopping Pot was about killing Muggles?”
“Definitely not,” Neville says. “It was about helping Muggles. Hermione actually - she has a copy of the original runic stories, and she can verify that.”
“I believe you,” Regulus says. “My family was, er… quite extreme.” He leans forward and rests his chin on Neville’s shoulder. “I think they’d be horrified to see where I am now.”
“I’m a Pureblood, though.”
“You slew the Dark Lord’s snake after having led a secret rebellion against Death Eaters at Hogwarts. And didn’t you - fight Death Eaters twice before that?”
Neville feels himself blush, and he’s glad that Regulus can’t see it. “Well, yeah, but…”
“Neville,” Regulus says softly, “I don’t know very many people who would have the nerve to stand up to the Dark Lord himself. I certainly didn’t. He was the most powerful Dark wizard since Grindelwald - arguably, he was more powerful than Grindelwald. He was certainly more deranged.” He feels Regulus wrap his arms around him. “You do know that you’re a very brave and admirable wizard, don’t you?”
“I - I only did what anyone in my place would have done.”
“You can’t honestly think that,” Regulus says.
“Luna would have. Ginny would have. Hermione, Ron, Harry, Seamus, Dean - any of them.”
“I don’t think so,” Regulus says. “Harry, maybe, but - you sell yourself short.”
The thought occurs to Neville that this could be interpreted as a romantic scene. He’s sitting in Regulus’s lap, with Regulus’s arms wrapped around him (Regulus’s chin resting on his shoulder), in the middle of nowhere, looking at a beautiful, illuminated, snowy, magical forest. But it’s not romantic. Because Regulus can do much better than him, and Neville knows better.
“I’m not sure why you’re so reluctant to believe good things about yourself,” Regulus says.
“I believe good things about myself,” Neville says. “I know I’m kind, and I know I’m capable of bravery - I’m just not sure I’m admirable - and I’m good at Herbology, and I’ve quite - I’ve quite improved on my spellwork, generally speaking. I’m fair, and I’m not - I’m not useless.”
“Hundreds of people - if not thousands - are alive today because of what you did. Harry might well have died if not for you, and then - well, even if he hadn’t, who would have had the opportunity and the nerve to kill the snake? And I’m sure I don’t even know all that you did, but even that goes well beyond ‘not useless’.”
“I’m not saying that I didn’t do that, but-”
“Neville,” Regulus says.
“I-it’s cold,” Neville says. “I think maybe we should go inside.”
Regulus doesn’t protest.
He lets Neville go, and grabs his camera and follows him back into the tent.
It is substantially warmer in the tent, and Neville tells himself his cheeks are only flushed from the cold as he hangs up his scarf, hat, gloves, and coat. He goes to warm up by the stove, and Regulus disappears into the bedroom (or what can best be described as a bedroom).
Wonderful. Neville has not only made an arse of himself, but he’s pissed Regulus off, too.
He sets the kettle, and is finally warm enough to take off his jumper (under which he’s wearing a plain shirt) when Regulus comes out of the bedroom wearing nothing but pyjama pants and an open pyjama top, brandishing a bottle of champagne.
“It’s New Year’s Eve,” Regulus says.
Neville tears his gaze away from Regulus’s (flat, toned, unblemished) stomach. “What?”
“It’s New Year’s Eve,” Regulus repeats. “I’d nearly forgotten I’d packed this. The best champagne money can buy - from my uncle’s defunct estate in the West Country.”
“Oh,” Neville says. “I don’t think we’ve got flutes.”
“We can make do,” Regulus says. “We’re wizards, aren’t we?”
Before Neville can respond, Regulus has conjured up two champagne coupes and placed them on the table. Regulus checks his watch. “We’ve got a few hours yet - just the one bottle - but I think I saw some brandy around the other day.”
“You want to get drunk?”
“Well, not drunk,” Regulus says. “Let’s say pleasantly tipsy.”
“Maybe we should eat first?” Neville says. “I can reheat dinner.”
“All right,” Regulus agrees, and he’s standing so close that Neville can smell him - he smells of soap and sweat and deodorant and it’s all far too much. He isn’t sure how long Regulus wants to stay here, but he already thinks that they might need some time apart once they get back to England, just so Neville doesn’t do anything stupid.
Neville reheats their dinner, and sets it on the table.
It’s a small table, but there’s no reason for Regulus to sit so close that he brushes against Neville whenever he moves. Neville can’t figure out why Regulus doesn’t just scoot over, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, he talks about the forest, and what he thinks he might see when he analyses the samples later.
Regulus listens attentively. He seems to do that a lot with Neville, though Neville’s sure it’s just the politesse that’s been impressed onto him from a young age.
He still hasn’t buttoned his shirt.
Regulus offers to wash the dishes since Neville cooked, and Neville doesn’t argue. He goes to get a shower and change into pyjamas (which he buttons up, thank you).
Regulus is reading again when Neville comes back out. Neville joins him on the sofa, but when he goes to pick up his own book (which is a Herbology book, not a novel, like Regulus’s), Regulus asks, “Do you mind if I ask you something rather personal?”
Neville doesn’t open his book. “All right. But if it’s too personal, I won’t answer.”
“That’s fine,” Regulus says. He hesitates for a moment, and Neville wonders if he’s actually going to ask anything at all, but then: “Have you ever, er, been with another wizard? I mean… sexually?”
Oh. Neville hadn’t expected that. Regulus is right: it’s definitely personal, but… Neville really doesn’t mind answering. “Not… not as such, no.”
Regulus frowns slightly. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean,” Neville says, “I’ve kissed other wizards - snogged them, even, and there was some, er - hand… stuff. During - you know, seventh year, with - all the emotions and hormones and - stress relief. And a wizard did, erm, sort of… well…”
It’s evident Regulus has no idea what Neville means by this. “You haven’t got to tell me if it’s too personal.”
“It’s not,” Neville says, though for all intents and purposes, it should be. “It’s just, er… well… so he, er, sort of, y’know, sucked me off?”
“Oh,” Regulus says.
“I, er, sort of tried to return the favour, but it’s harder than it looks. But I dunno if that counts. And then, er, Luna’s a witch, and she and I definitely - we did a lot.”
“I see,” Regulus says.
Neville wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that. “Yeah.”
“I’ve not,” Regulus says. “I’ve not - done anything like that.”
Neville isn’t nearly as practised as Regulus at controlling his expression, so he’s certain the surprise still shows on his face. “You haven’t?”
Regulus shakes his head. “No. Well - it’s not as if I could have before. I’d have been disowned if I’d been found out, and - well.”
“But you’ve - you’ve kissed a bloke before?”
“No. I haven’t.”
“But you’re gorgeous,” Neville says before he can think better of it. “Surely you’ve had the opportunity. I mean, I’ve had the opportunity.”
“Perhaps I did,” Regulus says. “But I wasn’t aware of it. And even if I had been - the risk was too great.”
“Maybe when - before, but not now. What’s the risk now? And someone’s had to have noticed you - it’s been well over a year.”
Regulus’s gaze drops. “I’ve… well, I have had some… thoughts.”
Regulus has his eye on someone. Of course. “Then you should ask him out.”
“You think so?”
“Absolutely,” Neville says.
“All right,” Regulus says. He sets his book down, and then goes over to the table to get the champagne. He pops the bottle and pours two coupes, handing one to Neville. “Happy New Year.”
“Happy New Year,” Neville says, although he feels a bit confused.
Regulus sips at his champagne.
“I didn’t mean,” Neville starts. “Obviously if it’s this married bloke, you shouldn’t try to - interfere with his marriage.”
“He’s not married,” Regulus says. “Well, that wizard is, but that’s not - that’s not who I’m talking about. This is someone else.”
“Oh,” Neville says. “All right, then.”
“You… you really think he’d agree?”
“Yeah,” Neville says. “Of course.”
“Of course?” Regulus repeats.
“I don’t see why that needs questioning,” Neville says.
Regulus drains his coupe of champagne. “I’m… I’m a former Death Eater. I’ve done terrible things. I don’t see how anyone could know that and - and want to be with me.”
“Anyone who knows that would also know that you nearly died - for all intents and purposes, you were dead - to bring Voldemort down. That’s not nothing, Regulus.”
“Aren’t you the one who brushed me off barely an hour ago when I told you that your actions have merit?”
Neville blushes. “That’s different.”
“How so?” Regulus asks.
“I’m - Regulus, you didn’t know me when I was eleven and hopeless and clumsy and - I had no friends! I was the laughingstock of the whole school. Hermione was nice to me, and my roommates were friendly, but they weren’t - I spent all my time with my pet toad.”
Regulus actually rolls his eyes. “I was a spoilt brat who had no friends - but desperately wanted them - and I didn’t know how to talk to people, didn’t… do much of anything besides revise and read and try to stay at the top of the class to avoid upsetting my parents. And my brother - he was cool, and popular, and even though he was a thorn in the side of every single member of Hogwarts’ staff, they all adored him. All of that came so easily to him - no one liked me. Sometimes I think… if I’d had a friend, a real friend who genuinely cared about me… things might have been different.”
“You’d have married that wizard.”
“Maybe,” Regulus says. “Maybe not. To be honest… I’m not unhappy with the way things did end up. Though, obviously, I do wish Kreacher had managed to destroy the Horcrux before anyone else needed to risk their lives to get it. That’s beside the point.”
“What’s the point?”
“My point is that no one is the best version of themselves at age eleven - and if you are… in my experience, those people don’t amount to much in life.”
Neville nearly laughs. “That is such a Slytherin perspective.”
“I am a Slytherin,” Regulus says. He pours himself another coupe of champagne, and tops off Neville’s coupe as well. “Not that I’ve amounted to much, myself. The only thing I truly loved was Quidditch, and I made sure that I couldn’t pursue that the moment I got this.” He taps his sleeve where it covers his Dark Mark.
“I’ve not, either,” Neville says. “And most of my friends have. Ginny’s playing Quidditch professionally, Luna’s actually becoming a damn good magizoologist, Hermione’s - well, Hermione’s going to be Minister for Magic someday, and Harry and Ron…”
“You’re an excellent Herbologist,” Regulus says. “I was always horrid at Herbology. Had to get a tutor as early as Second Year.”
Neville can’t believe that. He can’t believe he hasn’t heard that before. “Really?”
“Really,” Regulus says. “And my tutor was some uppity Hufflepuff, and she really wasn’t very much help. I’m sure if you’d been my tutor… well, I’d have done better.”
Neville feels himself blush. “You’re just saying that.”
“I’m not.”
“You didn’t know me in second year,” Neville says.
“No,” Regulus agrees. “But I know you now, and I think that’s enough.” He moves closer, and Neville’s not quite sure what the hell is going on.
But then Neville sees Regulus’s gaze flit to his lips and oh. Neville isn’t sure what Regulus sees in him, but he knows he’s not imagining this. He’s not imagining the way Regulus is leaning in, closing his eyes and tilting his head so slightly, like he’s not quite sure what to do.
Neville knows in that moment that he has three options: he can sit there and let Regulus kiss him, he can push Regulus away, or… or he can lean in and kiss Regulus himself.
He chooses the third option.
Regulus’s eyes open just for a second in what Neville hopes is surprise, but then Neville closes his own eyes and focuses on kissing him. Regulus is not a phenomenal kisser, though Neville really hadn’t expected him to be. Kissing him is pleasant, though.
Neville has enough presence of mind to set his coupe of champagne down on the table at some point during the kiss, and he’s ready to - well, he doesn’t know what, but then Regulus pulls away.
“I can explain,” Regulus says.
His face is flushed, lips slightly swollen, hair askew. It’s the least put-together Neville has ever seen him, and by Merlin, he wants more. He wants to see Regulus completely taken apart, sweaty and flushed and out of breath.
He’s not sure he wants to hear Regulus’s explanation, but he says, “Go on.”
“I…” Regulus starts. “I know you’ve probably - I know you’re…” He takes a deep breath. “I quite like you. I know that’s stupid. I know I can’t even begin to measure up with anyone else you’ve dated, and I’ve got no experience whatsoever, but…”
“I’m sorry,” Neville says. “Do you - Regulus, are you saying I’m too good to be with you?”
Regulus blushes. “I know it’s obvious.”
Neville sweeps his gaze down Regulus’s face and body. “How is that obvious?”
“You’re so - you’re so good,” Regulus says. “Kind, and brave, and fair, and adorable, and when you - you’re the only person who’s ever made me think that Herbology might potentially be interesting.”
“O-oh,” Neville says. “But I’m - I mean, look at me.”
Regulus does. “You’re gorgeous.”
“I’m fat,” Neville says. “You’ve seen me in - in nothing but pants. I just don’t understand how you’d actually be attracted to me.”
Regulus frowns. “Do you think another person would be less attractive to you if they had a body like yours?”
“No, of course not,” Neville says. “But I’m me on top of that.”
Regulus leans in and kisses him chastely on the lips. “I quite like you. And, for what it’s worth, I find you very attractive.”
“But why?” Neville asks.
“I’ve always been quite weak for tall wizards,” Regulus says. “Especially when they’ve got freckles.” He takes a deep breath. “Though, obviously, if you don’t feel the same way - you haven’t got to come up with any excuses. You can just tell me.”
Regulus actually thinks that Neville doesn’t like him? That he isn’t attracted to him? “That’s not what’s going on here at all,” Neville says. “I just don’t want to get invested when… when you’ll inevitably realise that you can do far better than me.”
Regulus rolls his eyes. “Do you honestly think that’ll happen? As if I haven’t agonised over this for a year?”
“A year?” Neville repeats.
“Yes,” Regulus says. “Neville, I like how you look. I like… well, everything about you, really. If you’re only concerned that I’ll get bored with you… I’m telling you right now that I won’t.”
Neville isn’t totally convinced. Not really. It’s hardly as if Luna still wants to be with him, and the handful of people he thought might genuinely have liked him at one point are now happy and content in other relationships.
But, well, he’s never known Regulus to lie to him. He’s been an exceptionally honest Slytherin.
Besides, he knows - he knows - if he wastes every chance like this, he’ll only end up alone. He likes Regulus. Regulus says that he likes him, too, and, really, that completely lines up with his actions.
“If you’re sure,” Neville says.
“I am,” Regulus says.
Neville takes a deep breath and exhales. “All right. Yeah. But I won’t - I won’t be hidden away.”
“I would never dream of hiding you away,” Regulus says.
Neville kisses him.
If they miss the beginning of the New Year because they’re too busy snogging, Neville hardly thinks anyone could blame them.
Author/Artist: ???
Pairing(s): Regulus Black/Neville Longbottom
Prompt: this image (pairing: any combination of Remus, Severus, Regulus, Sirius, James sr., Peter, Draco, Percy, Oliver, Goyle, Neville.; YEAR: 2013)
Word Count/Art Medium: 5361
Rating: PG-13
Contains (Highlight to view): *internalized fatphobia, mentioned fantastical racism, mentioned/implied sexual content *
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Neville isn’t sure how he got saddled with Regulus Black. And the worst part is that he doesn't hate him. He expected to, but in truth, he finds him perfectly companionable. So when Regulus asks him about some enchanted forest, Neville only hesitates for a moment before agreeing.
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Neville isn’t sure how he got saddled with Regulus Black.
Technically, he knows how it happened. Harry wanted to save everyone, as he always did (and Neville still can’t quite fault him for it), so he’d gone and asked every expert he could find about potentially reviving a lake full of inferi, which included Regulus Black (who hadn’t aged a day since 1979 and had the memories to match).
And Neville, as both a Pureblood from a family held in high esteem on both sides (even though no one in his family hadn’t supported the Order, or the Ministry in the First War), and as a former member - well, leader - of the D.A., was enlisted to help get him up to speed and adjusted to modern wizarding life.
He would love to say he volunteered, but really, his friends volunteered his help for him.
The worst part is that he actually doesn’t hate it.
And he doesn’t hate Regulus Black.
He expected to.
He doesn’t like Draco Malfoy, even though Malfoy’s on cordial terms with Harry and Hermione now (Ron, like Neville, seems more hesitant to forgive and forget). He doesn’t think any of the stories he’s heard of Sirius Black are all that funny, either. In fact, Neville’s first encounter with Sirius had been one of the most terrifying moments of his life thus far, even if he does feel bad for Harry that Sirius had died.
Regulus is Bellatrix Lestrange’s cousin. He was a Death Eater, and when he’d been revived, no one had thought to ask him just why he’d turned away. If it had just been for a girl, like Snape had, if it hadn’t been because of any actual moral integrity or change of heart. (Neville still can’t bring himself to forgive Snape for anything, either, but that’s neither here nor there).
But Regulus Black is - well, he’s nice. And if Neville’s being completely honest, he’s a bit of a nerd. And he’s had multiple long, drawn out conversations with Hermione about House Elf welfare, of all things.
To be sure, he speaks with the same polished accent most of the Sacred Twenty-Eight pride themselves on. His posture is always perfect, and he never has a hair out of place. Since he’s gotten his own money, his robes have never once been less than impeccably tailored. He’ll say absurdly obnoxious things from time to time (though more in the form of name-dropping or acting as if every Pureblood family understands just what the fuck is wrong with the Blacks to be the way they are)...
And yet Neville finds him perfectly companionable.
This isn’t hurt by the fact that Regulus told him, nonchalantly, that he’d joined the Death Eaters when he was just a child, and that he hadn’t been given much of a choice, and the reality of systematic racism, violence, and murder had been too much to stomach from the very start. That he’d wanted out as soon as he’d got in. That, because he was a Slytherin, he’d closed off his thoughts and bided his time and searched for any sort of weakness or vulnerability that Voldemort might show.
That even if Voldemort hadn’t nearly killed Kreacher, he’d have probably died trying to take him down anyway. That Kreacher had just been the icing on the cake, so to speak.
Which all serves to put Neville more at ease. Regulus isn’t like Snape (he’s horrified at Neville’s stories of Snape as a professor). He’s not like Bellatrix (he calls her “mental” and “seriously deranged”). He’s not like Sirius, or Malfoy, or anyone Neville has ever met before.
So when Regulus asks him about some enchanted forest, Neville only hesitates for a moment before agreeing.
It’s not in Britain. Regulus isn’t even quite sure it exists, but he’s made it clear if it does exist, he wants to see it. Neville, for his part, is interested in the qualities of this magical flora that may or may not actually exist.
They leave on Boxing Day. Neville packs for a long trip and hopes for a short one. Not that he really minds spending time with Regulus, but considering Regulus isn’t even sure this forest exists, he doesn’t want to be wandering through the wilderness for too long.
Regulus thinks it’s somewhere in Scandinavia, and they both do research to narrow it down a little bit, to try to find it a little sooner, if it does, in fact, exist.
Really, sometimes Neville can forget he’s essentially been enlisted as Regulus’s babysitter.
They don’t bother with the major cities. Neither of them see much of a point to it. Neville has a rather nice tent with two beds, though there’s only one sleeping area, and a fully stocked pantry, and it’s hardly as if a mythical, magical forest is going to be straight in the middle of Helsinki.
They spend three days searching. They’re long, hard days, with loads of hiking, map-checking, and a few check-ins at local Wizarding villages to ask questions.
On the fourth day, they find some clues that seem to indicate that the forest may be real. It’s meant to only glow for a few weeks each year - two before and two following the winter solstice.
It takes them over eighteen hours of nonstop searching from that point to find it, and when they do, they are both too exhausted to do much of anything. Regulus pitches the tent, as it’s his turn, and Neville falls asleep the second his head hits the pillow.
They’re far enough north that the sun doesn’t rise until rather late in the day, so Neville isn’t terribly surprised when he wakes up to a pitch black room, or when Regulus’s bed is empty and neatly made when Neville casts Lumos to give some light.
He pads out to the main room, through a double set of flaps, where Regulus is sitting by the stove, lamps lit, reading a book.
“Morning,” he says. “Kettle’s almost up.”
“Thanks, but I think I should shower first,” Neville says.
“All right,” Regulus says. “I’ll get started on breakfast then.”
Neville smiles. “Thank you.”
He goes back to the little bathroom. He has to fill the tank and cast a spell to set the water running, but both he and Regulus prefer showers to baths, so it really only made sense to install the shower set-up before they left.
He showers so long that he has to replenish the water twice (thinking on it now, he’s not sure whether he’s showered the past few days or if he’s just been too exhausted), and when he gets out, he allows himself the small pleasure of wrapping himself up in a fluffy bathrobe.
He doesn’t bother to dress properly before going out to the great room. Regulus is at the range, cooking something that smells delicious.
“I thought it best to wait until I heard the water stop running,” Regulus says.
Neville feels himself blush. “I think that was probably the right move.” He didn’t anticipate showering that long, but once he got in, it was just so warm and pleasant.
Regulus glances over to him, and Neville can see the way his gaze lingers for just a moment too long before he turns his head away.
Neville knows that Regulus is gay. It’s something they’ve discussed before. Neville also knows that Regulus knows he’s bi. He just doesn’t see why that would matter. Neville isn’t exactly what anyone in their right mind would call “attractive”.
He’s too fat and clumsy and his hair never sits right and his beard is patchy (and he looks worse without one) and that’s not even taking into account all of his scars and freckles and stretch marks.
And Regulus has seen him in nothing but his pants. It’s not like he can believe Neville is hiding a fit, toned body under his bathrobe. He’s seen the fat and the scars and the stretch marks.
Just as Neville has seen Regulus in nothing but his pants, and he knows that Regulus is lean and toned, with just the right amount of thick (not patchy) black hair. The only thing marring Regulus’s otherwise perfect body is his Dark Mark, which he keeps covered almost all the time.
Regulus is way out of Neville’s league.
Hell, Luna was way out of Neville’s league, and they dated for a whole year - and Neville was the one to end that relationship. Even though they’re just friends now, Neville still doesn’t know what Luna ever saw in him.
And even though Regulus is a gay ex-Death Eater, surely he can do better, too.
At the very least, there’s no reason for him to be attracted to Neville.
Neville can accept that Regulus seems to genuinely like him as a person, and even as a friend. He knows he’s got worth as a human being, and that he’s kind and brave and he’s apparently a good leader when it comes down to it, and that people think he’s a good friend. But that’s different from attraction.
“I’ve been reading up on the legends behind this forest,” Regulus says as he plates their breakfast.
“Oh?”
“It’s meant to grant wishes.”
“Oh,” Neville says. He can think immediately what he’d wish for, and he knows Regulus surely has some ideas of his own.
“It’s rubbish, of course,” Regulus says. “Magic doesn’t work like that. So I rather thought…”
He takes his plate from Regulus and sits down at the table. “It’s a trap?”
“Exactly.”
“So we should be careful,” Neville says.
“Yes,” Regulus says. “Though I’ll ask you not to think less of me if you see me faced with a shade of my brother. Or the boy I fancied at Hogwarts.”
“I won’t.”
It’s daylight when they venture into the forest. Neville isn’t sure yet if the magic comes from flora or fauna - well, he isn’t even sure yet whether the lights and the apparent wish-granting are related at all. Perhaps they’re two distinct phenomena, or phenomena that are intricately linked.
“Perhaps we should have brought Luna,” Neville says as they cross over the threshold.
Regulus squares his shoulders - evident even through his thick winter coat - and his expression is carefully neutral as he says, “I don’t see why.”
“I’ve only a base knowledge of magizoology,” Neville says. “If this is related to a creature - or creatures - well, Luna, Charlie, and Rolf could all be of assistance.”
“Oh,” Regulus says. “Well, I - I’ve got a N.E.W.T. in Care of Magical Creatures.”
This is the first Neville has heard of this. “You have?”
“Yes,” Regulus says. “Though it was, first and foremost, to - well, impress a boy might not be the most apt verbiage. I wanted to be better than him at something he loved.”
Neville raises an eyebrow. “And were you?”
Regulus smiles. “No. But I was good enough that he noticed me, not that anything came of it - well, nothing besides my O in the subject.”
“Something tells me he wasn’t a Slytherin.”
“Oh, Merlin, no,” Regulus says. “And he’s married now. To a wizard.”
“Oh,” Neville says. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. If I hadn’t been such an obnoxious, spoilt, purist arsehole… it’s my own fault that things turned out the way it did. I’ve no one to blame but myself. He’s happy, and - and I’m not dead.”
“Have you spoken to him?”
“What’s the point? It was over twenty years ago to him, and he and his husband seem… really quite happy. Even if - even if he… he’d felt the same way then, which I think is quite unlikely, there’d be no point in me saying anything to him now.”
Neville knows better than to press too much. This is more than Regulus has ever said about this wizard before. “I suppose it’s no longer a secret that you’re alive.”
“No,” Regulus says. “Though I shouldn’t speak ill of Harry’s choices - he could have well taken all of the Black fortune and property - it was rightfully his. He didn’t have to do anything for me.”
“Harry’s like that.”
Regulus rolls his eyes. “You say that like you’re not the same.”
“I’m not.”
“It’s not just the two of you. It’s rather a Gryffindor trait. Going out of your way for people who’ve never done anything like that for you.”
“But… you had,” Neville says. “You - you intended on dying just to stop Voldemort. And considering your upbringing, the fact that you were in Slytherin with loads of people who never would have done the same… most people wouldn’t have done what you did.”
Regulus shrugs. It’s a very undignified response for the sole heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, but Neville rather thinks he likes him best that way.
Neville knows it would be easy - painfully easy - to kiss him and blame it on the magic buzzing all around them if Regulus reacts badly. But he doesn’t do it. He can’t bring himself to do it. Regulus has just been talking about a wizard he’d been mad for at Hogwarts - which had really only been a few years ago to him.
So he does what he does best: he collects some samples to study, talks about magical flora and what might be causing the plants to glow (he already has several ideas), and decides that they should return to the tent before nightfall.
They’re so far north, they really only have a few hours in the forest, but Regulus doesn’t complain. He takes a few photographs, seems to listen attentively to Neville’s theories, and follows his lead.
Their tent is set up near a stream at the edge of the forest, and they can still see the glow from their windows.
It’s Neville’s turn to cook, and Regulus steps outside to take a few more photographs, promising him not to go back into the forest.
When the food is ready, Regulus is still gone, so Neville puts on his coat and goes outside.
Regulus has conjured a chair, and is facing the forest, his camera on the arm of the chair.
“Dinner’s ready,” Neville says.
“Sit down,” Regulus says.
Neville nearly sits on the snowy ground, but Regulus grabs him by his arm and pulls him onto his lap.
“What are you doing?” Neville asks. “I’m going to crush you.”
“You’re not that much bigger than me, and I’m not that delicate,” Regulus says. “I’ll be fine. But look.”
Neville turns his head to look at the forest.
He hadn’t gotten a good look last night, and the sky is black now - the trees are alight in silver and gold, and it is, Neville has to admit, one of the most beautiful sights he’s ever seen.
He forgets his concerns about being too heavy to sit on Regulus’s lap, and lets himself stare.
“Do you know how lucky we are to have found this?”
“We’re pretty sure it kills people,” Neville says, but it is beautiful.
“It can’t kill us from here.”
They don’t know that, though, and Neville nearly says as much. Something stops him. He’s not sure what.
“My cousin used to tell me stories about it,” Regulus says softly.
“Which one?” Neville asks.
“Narcissa. I think Andromeda did, too, before she was disowned, but Narcissa was always more the sort to be enchanted by such things. And I was, too. Of course, in her stories, it was a magical forest that killed Muggles.”
“Of course,” Neville says. “I can’t say I ever grew up on any such stories. Well, magical forests, maybe, but not Muggle-killing ones.”
“No, I suspect that was rather more unique to the House of Black and a select few other families,” Regulus says.
“Probably,” Neville says.
“I suppose you weren’t taught that the Hopping Pot was about killing Muggles?”
“Definitely not,” Neville says. “It was about helping Muggles. Hermione actually - she has a copy of the original runic stories, and she can verify that.”
“I believe you,” Regulus says. “My family was, er… quite extreme.” He leans forward and rests his chin on Neville’s shoulder. “I think they’d be horrified to see where I am now.”
“I’m a Pureblood, though.”
“You slew the Dark Lord’s snake after having led a secret rebellion against Death Eaters at Hogwarts. And didn’t you - fight Death Eaters twice before that?”
Neville feels himself blush, and he’s glad that Regulus can’t see it. “Well, yeah, but…”
“Neville,” Regulus says softly, “I don’t know very many people who would have the nerve to stand up to the Dark Lord himself. I certainly didn’t. He was the most powerful Dark wizard since Grindelwald - arguably, he was more powerful than Grindelwald. He was certainly more deranged.” He feels Regulus wrap his arms around him. “You do know that you’re a very brave and admirable wizard, don’t you?”
“I - I only did what anyone in my place would have done.”
“You can’t honestly think that,” Regulus says.
“Luna would have. Ginny would have. Hermione, Ron, Harry, Seamus, Dean - any of them.”
“I don’t think so,” Regulus says. “Harry, maybe, but - you sell yourself short.”
The thought occurs to Neville that this could be interpreted as a romantic scene. He’s sitting in Regulus’s lap, with Regulus’s arms wrapped around him (Regulus’s chin resting on his shoulder), in the middle of nowhere, looking at a beautiful, illuminated, snowy, magical forest. But it’s not romantic. Because Regulus can do much better than him, and Neville knows better.
“I’m not sure why you’re so reluctant to believe good things about yourself,” Regulus says.
“I believe good things about myself,” Neville says. “I know I’m kind, and I know I’m capable of bravery - I’m just not sure I’m admirable - and I’m good at Herbology, and I’ve quite - I’ve quite improved on my spellwork, generally speaking. I’m fair, and I’m not - I’m not useless.”
“Hundreds of people - if not thousands - are alive today because of what you did. Harry might well have died if not for you, and then - well, even if he hadn’t, who would have had the opportunity and the nerve to kill the snake? And I’m sure I don’t even know all that you did, but even that goes well beyond ‘not useless’.”
“I’m not saying that I didn’t do that, but-”
“Neville,” Regulus says.
“I-it’s cold,” Neville says. “I think maybe we should go inside.”
Regulus doesn’t protest.
He lets Neville go, and grabs his camera and follows him back into the tent.
It is substantially warmer in the tent, and Neville tells himself his cheeks are only flushed from the cold as he hangs up his scarf, hat, gloves, and coat. He goes to warm up by the stove, and Regulus disappears into the bedroom (or what can best be described as a bedroom).
Wonderful. Neville has not only made an arse of himself, but he’s pissed Regulus off, too.
He sets the kettle, and is finally warm enough to take off his jumper (under which he’s wearing a plain shirt) when Regulus comes out of the bedroom wearing nothing but pyjama pants and an open pyjama top, brandishing a bottle of champagne.
“It’s New Year’s Eve,” Regulus says.
Neville tears his gaze away from Regulus’s (flat, toned, unblemished) stomach. “What?”
“It’s New Year’s Eve,” Regulus repeats. “I’d nearly forgotten I’d packed this. The best champagne money can buy - from my uncle’s defunct estate in the West Country.”
“Oh,” Neville says. “I don’t think we’ve got flutes.”
“We can make do,” Regulus says. “We’re wizards, aren’t we?”
Before Neville can respond, Regulus has conjured up two champagne coupes and placed them on the table. Regulus checks his watch. “We’ve got a few hours yet - just the one bottle - but I think I saw some brandy around the other day.”
“You want to get drunk?”
“Well, not drunk,” Regulus says. “Let’s say pleasantly tipsy.”
“Maybe we should eat first?” Neville says. “I can reheat dinner.”
“All right,” Regulus agrees, and he’s standing so close that Neville can smell him - he smells of soap and sweat and deodorant and it’s all far too much. He isn’t sure how long Regulus wants to stay here, but he already thinks that they might need some time apart once they get back to England, just so Neville doesn’t do anything stupid.
Neville reheats their dinner, and sets it on the table.
It’s a small table, but there’s no reason for Regulus to sit so close that he brushes against Neville whenever he moves. Neville can’t figure out why Regulus doesn’t just scoot over, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, he talks about the forest, and what he thinks he might see when he analyses the samples later.
Regulus listens attentively. He seems to do that a lot with Neville, though Neville’s sure it’s just the politesse that’s been impressed onto him from a young age.
He still hasn’t buttoned his shirt.
Regulus offers to wash the dishes since Neville cooked, and Neville doesn’t argue. He goes to get a shower and change into pyjamas (which he buttons up, thank you).
Regulus is reading again when Neville comes back out. Neville joins him on the sofa, but when he goes to pick up his own book (which is a Herbology book, not a novel, like Regulus’s), Regulus asks, “Do you mind if I ask you something rather personal?”
Neville doesn’t open his book. “All right. But if it’s too personal, I won’t answer.”
“That’s fine,” Regulus says. He hesitates for a moment, and Neville wonders if he’s actually going to ask anything at all, but then: “Have you ever, er, been with another wizard? I mean… sexually?”
Oh. Neville hadn’t expected that. Regulus is right: it’s definitely personal, but… Neville really doesn’t mind answering. “Not… not as such, no.”
Regulus frowns slightly. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean,” Neville says, “I’ve kissed other wizards - snogged them, even, and there was some, er - hand… stuff. During - you know, seventh year, with - all the emotions and hormones and - stress relief. And a wizard did, erm, sort of… well…”
It’s evident Regulus has no idea what Neville means by this. “You haven’t got to tell me if it’s too personal.”
“It’s not,” Neville says, though for all intents and purposes, it should be. “It’s just, er… well… so he, er, sort of, y’know, sucked me off?”
“Oh,” Regulus says.
“I, er, sort of tried to return the favour, but it’s harder than it looks. But I dunno if that counts. And then, er, Luna’s a witch, and she and I definitely - we did a lot.”
“I see,” Regulus says.
Neville wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that. “Yeah.”
“I’ve not,” Regulus says. “I’ve not - done anything like that.”
Neville isn’t nearly as practised as Regulus at controlling his expression, so he’s certain the surprise still shows on his face. “You haven’t?”
Regulus shakes his head. “No. Well - it’s not as if I could have before. I’d have been disowned if I’d been found out, and - well.”
“But you’ve - you’ve kissed a bloke before?”
“No. I haven’t.”
“But you’re gorgeous,” Neville says before he can think better of it. “Surely you’ve had the opportunity. I mean, I’ve had the opportunity.”
“Perhaps I did,” Regulus says. “But I wasn’t aware of it. And even if I had been - the risk was too great.”
“Maybe when - before, but not now. What’s the risk now? And someone’s had to have noticed you - it’s been well over a year.”
Regulus’s gaze drops. “I’ve… well, I have had some… thoughts.”
Regulus has his eye on someone. Of course. “Then you should ask him out.”
“You think so?”
“Absolutely,” Neville says.
“All right,” Regulus says. He sets his book down, and then goes over to the table to get the champagne. He pops the bottle and pours two coupes, handing one to Neville. “Happy New Year.”
“Happy New Year,” Neville says, although he feels a bit confused.
Regulus sips at his champagne.
“I didn’t mean,” Neville starts. “Obviously if it’s this married bloke, you shouldn’t try to - interfere with his marriage.”
“He’s not married,” Regulus says. “Well, that wizard is, but that’s not - that’s not who I’m talking about. This is someone else.”
“Oh,” Neville says. “All right, then.”
“You… you really think he’d agree?”
“Yeah,” Neville says. “Of course.”
“Of course?” Regulus repeats.
“I don’t see why that needs questioning,” Neville says.
Regulus drains his coupe of champagne. “I’m… I’m a former Death Eater. I’ve done terrible things. I don’t see how anyone could know that and - and want to be with me.”
“Anyone who knows that would also know that you nearly died - for all intents and purposes, you were dead - to bring Voldemort down. That’s not nothing, Regulus.”
“Aren’t you the one who brushed me off barely an hour ago when I told you that your actions have merit?”
Neville blushes. “That’s different.”
“How so?” Regulus asks.
“I’m - Regulus, you didn’t know me when I was eleven and hopeless and clumsy and - I had no friends! I was the laughingstock of the whole school. Hermione was nice to me, and my roommates were friendly, but they weren’t - I spent all my time with my pet toad.”
Regulus actually rolls his eyes. “I was a spoilt brat who had no friends - but desperately wanted them - and I didn’t know how to talk to people, didn’t… do much of anything besides revise and read and try to stay at the top of the class to avoid upsetting my parents. And my brother - he was cool, and popular, and even though he was a thorn in the side of every single member of Hogwarts’ staff, they all adored him. All of that came so easily to him - no one liked me. Sometimes I think… if I’d had a friend, a real friend who genuinely cared about me… things might have been different.”
“You’d have married that wizard.”
“Maybe,” Regulus says. “Maybe not. To be honest… I’m not unhappy with the way things did end up. Though, obviously, I do wish Kreacher had managed to destroy the Horcrux before anyone else needed to risk their lives to get it. That’s beside the point.”
“What’s the point?”
“My point is that no one is the best version of themselves at age eleven - and if you are… in my experience, those people don’t amount to much in life.”
Neville nearly laughs. “That is such a Slytherin perspective.”
“I am a Slytherin,” Regulus says. He pours himself another coupe of champagne, and tops off Neville’s coupe as well. “Not that I’ve amounted to much, myself. The only thing I truly loved was Quidditch, and I made sure that I couldn’t pursue that the moment I got this.” He taps his sleeve where it covers his Dark Mark.
“I’ve not, either,” Neville says. “And most of my friends have. Ginny’s playing Quidditch professionally, Luna’s actually becoming a damn good magizoologist, Hermione’s - well, Hermione’s going to be Minister for Magic someday, and Harry and Ron…”
“You’re an excellent Herbologist,” Regulus says. “I was always horrid at Herbology. Had to get a tutor as early as Second Year.”
Neville can’t believe that. He can’t believe he hasn’t heard that before. “Really?”
“Really,” Regulus says. “And my tutor was some uppity Hufflepuff, and she really wasn’t very much help. I’m sure if you’d been my tutor… well, I’d have done better.”
Neville feels himself blush. “You’re just saying that.”
“I’m not.”
“You didn’t know me in second year,” Neville says.
“No,” Regulus agrees. “But I know you now, and I think that’s enough.” He moves closer, and Neville’s not quite sure what the hell is going on.
But then Neville sees Regulus’s gaze flit to his lips and oh. Neville isn’t sure what Regulus sees in him, but he knows he’s not imagining this. He’s not imagining the way Regulus is leaning in, closing his eyes and tilting his head so slightly, like he’s not quite sure what to do.
Neville knows in that moment that he has three options: he can sit there and let Regulus kiss him, he can push Regulus away, or… or he can lean in and kiss Regulus himself.
He chooses the third option.
Regulus’s eyes open just for a second in what Neville hopes is surprise, but then Neville closes his own eyes and focuses on kissing him. Regulus is not a phenomenal kisser, though Neville really hadn’t expected him to be. Kissing him is pleasant, though.
Neville has enough presence of mind to set his coupe of champagne down on the table at some point during the kiss, and he’s ready to - well, he doesn’t know what, but then Regulus pulls away.
“I can explain,” Regulus says.
His face is flushed, lips slightly swollen, hair askew. It’s the least put-together Neville has ever seen him, and by Merlin, he wants more. He wants to see Regulus completely taken apart, sweaty and flushed and out of breath.
He’s not sure he wants to hear Regulus’s explanation, but he says, “Go on.”
“I…” Regulus starts. “I know you’ve probably - I know you’re…” He takes a deep breath. “I quite like you. I know that’s stupid. I know I can’t even begin to measure up with anyone else you’ve dated, and I’ve got no experience whatsoever, but…”
“I’m sorry,” Neville says. “Do you - Regulus, are you saying I’m too good to be with you?”
Regulus blushes. “I know it’s obvious.”
Neville sweeps his gaze down Regulus’s face and body. “How is that obvious?”
“You’re so - you’re so good,” Regulus says. “Kind, and brave, and fair, and adorable, and when you - you’re the only person who’s ever made me think that Herbology might potentially be interesting.”
“O-oh,” Neville says. “But I’m - I mean, look at me.”
Regulus does. “You’re gorgeous.”
“I’m fat,” Neville says. “You’ve seen me in - in nothing but pants. I just don’t understand how you’d actually be attracted to me.”
Regulus frowns. “Do you think another person would be less attractive to you if they had a body like yours?”
“No, of course not,” Neville says. “But I’m me on top of that.”
Regulus leans in and kisses him chastely on the lips. “I quite like you. And, for what it’s worth, I find you very attractive.”
“But why?” Neville asks.
“I’ve always been quite weak for tall wizards,” Regulus says. “Especially when they’ve got freckles.” He takes a deep breath. “Though, obviously, if you don’t feel the same way - you haven’t got to come up with any excuses. You can just tell me.”
Regulus actually thinks that Neville doesn’t like him? That he isn’t attracted to him? “That’s not what’s going on here at all,” Neville says. “I just don’t want to get invested when… when you’ll inevitably realise that you can do far better than me.”
Regulus rolls his eyes. “Do you honestly think that’ll happen? As if I haven’t agonised over this for a year?”
“A year?” Neville repeats.
“Yes,” Regulus says. “Neville, I like how you look. I like… well, everything about you, really. If you’re only concerned that I’ll get bored with you… I’m telling you right now that I won’t.”
Neville isn’t totally convinced. Not really. It’s hardly as if Luna still wants to be with him, and the handful of people he thought might genuinely have liked him at one point are now happy and content in other relationships.
But, well, he’s never known Regulus to lie to him. He’s been an exceptionally honest Slytherin.
Besides, he knows - he knows - if he wastes every chance like this, he’ll only end up alone. He likes Regulus. Regulus says that he likes him, too, and, really, that completely lines up with his actions.
“If you’re sure,” Neville says.
“I am,” Regulus says.
Neville takes a deep breath and exhales. “All right. Yeah. But I won’t - I won’t be hidden away.”
“I would never dream of hiding you away,” Regulus says.
Neville kisses him.
If they miss the beginning of the New Year because they’re too busy snogging, Neville hardly thinks anyone could blame them.