Potterfic - Peace, Love & Harmony (part 1/8) - Draco/Neville - R
Title: Peace, Love & Harmony (complete at AO3)
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco/Neville
Rating: R Words: 7670 (part 1 of 8)
Warnings/Contents: combines book and movie sources, author’s sense of humour, sexual content, fluff, angst and romance
Disclaimer: characters and source material created by JK Rowling-worship her
Summary: Hogwarts needs rebuilding. The Ministry (and perhaps Hogwarts itself) insists Neville be the one to recruit Draco and Narcissa. Forced to work together the young wizards begin to see war and peace with a new perspective. Will their tentative relationship become a metaphor for peace, or a chapter in Luna’s favourite book, Romantically Tragic: True Tales of Disastrous Love?
Neville approached the gates of Malfoy Manor, uncertain as to what forms of security surrounded the property. The Dark Mark filter would no longer be effective because the Death Eaters’ brands disappeared with the last of Voldemort.
He had seen Draco’s, seen his pride in it gradually become fear of it and then shame.
We were just boys.
The gap between sixteen and seventeen had never been so great. They would be eighteen soon. Neville already felt ancient.
A female house-elf apparated inside the ornate gates. She wore a starched and very pretty floral pillowcase. “On behalf of her mistress, Topsy must ask who is calling.” Topsy’s voice was high without being squeaky or irritating. Neville told her his name. “To whom do you wish to speak?”
“Master Draco.”
“Master Draco is not receiving visitors. Have you a message to convey?”
“It’s… um… never mind.”
“Very well, sir.” Topsy disapparated before Neville changed his mind. He stared, dumfounded, for a moment then walked to the end of the lane before apparating back to the Burrow.
“Well?” Molly Weasley asked with an encouraging smile. Neville explained.
“Then you’ll have to go back tomorrow and pester the arrogant little snot,” his grandmother insisted. “Hogwarts isn’t going to rebuild itself.”
“Yes Gran, no Gran.” Neville didn’t see why Kingsley Shacklebolt stipulated he be the one to convince the Malfoys to help. Draco let Death Eaters into Hogwarts the night Dumbledore died. The Ministry should be able to force his family to restore the school to its former glory. Apparently that would weaken the magic woven into more than the physical reconstruction. Harry and Ron showed no sympathy, offering such wise advice as “Better you than me” and “I’d kill the fairy-blond twat.”
Neville must have seen every floral pillowcase Topsy owned before summer began. Each effort earned the same response, until Draco apparated to the gate instead of Topsy.
“Persistent devil aren’t you, Longbottom? Or perhaps you’re having an affair with Mother’s house-elf.”
Neville was surprised into silence.
“Still, Topsy’s probably a fair step up from what you’re used to. Lord knows what sickly nicknames the likes of Lavender Brown would call you.”
The mention of Lavender Brown stirred Neville’s vocal chords. “Greyback got her, during the invasion of Hogwarts.”
Draco’s complexion could get no paler while he drew breath. It darkened instead to the pink of suppressed consternation. “If you’ve come to list my family’s sins and weaknesses you’re too late. That worm Riddle ran through them on a daily basis while he was here. Don’t look so shocked Longbottom. That’s his name isn’t it? Changing mine to Suck-my Dick Fat-boy won’t make the likes of you think any differently of me.”
Malfoy’s attitude irritated Neville. “Why do you hate me? Since we met…”
“I’m sorry,” Draco said mockingly as he crossed his arms, “how did this conversation become about you?”
Neville said what he’d been sent to say. “Hogwarts needs rebuilding…”
“Ministry’s frozen our assets, those they haven’t already confiscated,” Malfoy interjected.
“We need wandbearers, not money. If those from every House pitch in…”
Malfoy talked over him again, as he had for the past seven years. “Join your working bee so the Ministry can round us up and shove us in Azkaban?” His sneer spurred Neville on.
“Since we were eleven you’ve done nothing but sneer, bully, and look down your nose at people but the only time anyone’s envied you was when your parents ran through the battle for Hogwarts calling your name. Yours was the only family inside the grounds that didn’t fight, on either side -Don’t be ashamed,” Neville said hurriedly, risking who knew what by grasping the bars of the gate as Draco scowled. “They love you more than they feared Voldemort, other Death Eaters, or the Order of the Phoenix. That’s how they redeemed themselves. In Harry’s book anyway-and in mine.”
“We don’t need your pity Longbottom,” Draco snapped sulkily.
“Good, because I’ve none to give you,” Neville declared flatly. “The war’s over,” he continued eagerly. “We survived. Rebuilding Hogwarts is symbolic of the world we want to shape from the aftermath. We need to do it together, to make it stronger than the one torn apart.”
Draco turned away. Neville reached between the bars to touch his arm. “Hiding from what you fear doesn’t make it go away.”
Draco shrugged off Neville’s touch. “No need to tell me.”
“What was it like?” Neville asked with slow anxiety. For a moment he thought Draco was going to answer, that his hopes for peace weren’t futile.
“Have whoever’s in charge send Mother an owl with the details.” Draco apparated into the manor house and Topsy immediately appeared beside the gate.
“Mistress says ‘Thank you for bringing Master Draco out of the haunted house and into the sunlight.’ Also that my Mistress is deeply sorry, for what she did not say, only that Master Neville will know. Do you, sir?”
Neville nodded. Perhaps he did.
*~~~*
With Harry’s assistance, the Professors of Hogwarts had already located and filled in the Chamber of Secrets. Harry had been permitted to plant a new Whomping Willow in the same place as the first, which had been destroyed by Giants and fire. Luna commented on the appropriateness of the memorial he’d chosen to commemorate his parents, godfather, and Professor Lupin.
“And Professor Snape, for that matter,” Harry agreed. “His history was caught in the branches of the original too.”
Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, and Slughorn divided and oversaw the assembled volunteers, taking particular care not to place relatives of war criminals with those of their victims - with two notable exceptions.
“Neville and Draco, I want you on my team with Harry, so over here. Now gentlemen,” Professor McGonagall demanded as she looked around like a falcon after prey. “And where are my Hufflepuffs from yesterday? Come along girls. Yes, yes the three boys are very famous, intimidating and handsome. You can discuss the lovely shape of their bottoms after we get some work done. This way.”
Gaggles of girls communicated in giggles behind their hands as they walked past the section of outer wall where the three young men worked.
“Blimey Harry, did you cop this nonsense all the time?” Neville asked in low tones.
“Not all the time,” Harry admitted. “People mostly pointed and muttered horrible things behind my back. Or to my face,” he added, looking toward Malfoy from the corner of one eye.
Draco worked silently and as far from the rest of McGonagall’s crew as he could get without being hauled back. The tension in his stance and occasional uncertainty of his wand arm showed that Draco was aware of every remark voiced in their vicinity and was pretending he wasn’t actually here. Neville had spent most of life like that.
“Stare off Longbottom, or people’ll think you’re hot for me,” Draco said without turning hand or eye from his allocated task.
Harry’s stifled laugh sounded very much like “No der.” His amusement died when Neville turned on him, possibly because the bricks Neville were shifting landed on Harry’s foot.
“You think I fancy Malfoy?”
“No, course not Neville. I was only-don’t you?”
“I don’t hate him,” Neville admitted.
“I am still here you know.” Draco’s retort sounded like the Malfoy they were more familiar with. “If you’ve started match-making now you’ve got nothing heroic to do Potter then I suggest you stop, because you’re crap at it.”
Neville started to chuckle. He was caught between Harry’s raised eyebrows declaring ‘Aha!’ and Draco’s lowered brows demanding he desist, so he stopped. “What he said, Harry.”
McGonagall strolled along the lines of reconstruction, inspecting her troops. “Well done Draco. Perhaps you can give Mr Potter some pointers.” She smiled before hurrying off to scold her Hufflepuffs. Draco muttered a tirade about not needing this pity party and deliberately put in less effort. Headmistress McGonagall was not impressed when she returned after lunch and pursed her lips at his shoddy spellwork. The same expression was aimed in Draco’s direction. He stared defiantly. McGonagall raised her wand sharply and undid it all. “Do it properly this time.” She strode away without further comment. Draco seemed pleased by this criticism rather than offended by it. Harry and Neville exchanged surprised glances.
“Can’t be Polyjuice,” Harry said loud enough for Draco to hear. “He’d have to be drinking it every few minutes to keep the transformation stable.”
Draco subtly flicked nonverbal hexes in their direction. Neville and Harry blocked it. “Nah, it’s definitely him,” Neville said with a grin.
Draco asked to be assigned to a different work crew during McGonagall’s final inspection for the day. “Stick me with Sprout if you don’t trust me with Slughorn.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that Mr Malfoy, not without losing Potter and Longbottom too.” The three looked at her curiously. “Who else would possess the necessary combination of patience and balls to put up with you?” Harry and Neville smirked. Draco sneered. “Besides which, Narcissa insists that you be grouped with Neville in any allocation.”
All three expressed identical extremes of disbelief, with Harry declaring “Malfoy’d rather nibble Niffler nuts than co-operate with Neville.”
“I haven’t seen such consensus between Slytherin and Gryffindor since that partition to have Professor Lockhart reclassified as a Brainless Bundimin was bandied about! My decision stands, gentlemen. This is where I’ve put you and where you shall remain until this section is complete.” Her boot heels clicked on the cleared cobbles. The three wizards looked at each other in dismay.
“See you tomorrow then, Draco,” Harry said blankly.
“Yeah,” Neville added.
Draco scowled wordlessly as he tucked his wand up a shirtsleeve and went in search of his mother, no doubt to complain. Neville caught himself watching the sway of Draco’s walk and nodding along with the Hufflepuff assessment of “nice arse for such an arse.” Either Harry didn’t notice or he did a thoroughly convincing job of pretending he didn’t. To play it safe, Neville asked how McGonagall knew about the Gilderoy Bundimin petition Seamus started.
“Her signature was near the top, just above Fred and George,” Harry replied with admiration.
*~~~*
The void between Neville, Harry and Draco became smaller each day, mostly because Harry kept nudging and moving Neville along.
“I’m not interested in him Harry,” Neville insisted during a drinks break on the hottest day. “Stop shoving me into his personal space.”
“Fine then, I’ll work closest to him.”
Harry earned a glare from Draco reminiscent of the good old days of openly loathing each other. They spent more time bickering and duelling than getting anything done.
“He must like you,” Harry told Neville on the way to lunch.
“He said more to you in that past two hours than he has to me all summer.”
“Yeah, but most of those were curse words.” Harry’s jeans were still smoking at the back from a hex Draco shot at his bum.
“Maybe I’m just hot for you Potter,” Malfoy quipped as he swaggered past. “Getting a nice look at my arse there, ladies?” he asked. The usual gaggle of girls behind Neville and Harry laughed.
“I thought he meant us,” Neville admitted quietly.
“You’re starting to like him.”
Neville squinted at the sunlight casting Malfoy’s form into silhouette. “I don’t want to,” he said eventually, as though finding Draco Malfoy alright was the most shameful thing ever.
“Blimey Neville, he’s not pure evil.” Harry explained events from Malfoy Manor and the Room of Requirement that Luna remained unaware of. “Twice he could have killed me or let someone else do it. Moaning Myrtle wants to marry him because he’s so gooey and sensitive deep within that icy façade.”
“Way deep.”
“Exceedingly deep.”
“Unfathomable.”
“Malfoy’s not quite that deep.” The two friends smiled at each other. “War’s over Neville. He’s not an opponent anymore. Ask him out.”
“No way. He’s not-he likes girls.” Neville gestured to where Draco hammed it up for some female admirers. Draco noticed. That bitingly arrogant expression had been pointed at Neville since they met.
“Malfoy’s just taking the piss,” said Harry. “He’s about as interested in those girls as you are. He knows you’re looking, or hopes you are.”
Neville charmed Harry’s sneakers so they bit his toes. Harry grinned triumphantly as he removed the charm. “You two are made for each other.”
Neville made Harry stay between them for the next session of the day, which continued along the same lines as the first. McGonagall’s boots cracked cobbles as she strode to them before all workers broke for afternoon tea.
“This nonsense has gone on long enough. Longbottom, swap stations with Potter so we won’t be wasting more time clearing away their mess! Honestly, how you three can continue to be so juvenile with all you’ve been through.” She lectured them through afternoon tea, ignoring Draco’s insistence that further twaddle could be avoided by transferring him to a different work crew. “Remember the time you entertained students in the quadrangle as a ferret, Mr Malfoy?” McGonagall asked pointedly. Draco scowled silently. McGonagall turned her most imposing stare on each of them. “If I need to remind either of you three to behave yourselves one more time, I will transfigure the lot of you and tie you in a sack until you sort yourselves out.”
*~~~*
They worked sensibly for the next few days and were given internal repairs as a reward. Harry was paired with Daphne Greengrass, who’d been recently recruited by Narcissa Malfoy and Professor Slughorn. Neville worked with Malfoy in the room at the centre of the corridor so McGonagall would walk past them twice as often as everyone else.
“Call this a reward?” Neville muttered as they surveyed the windowless interior.
“Potter’s not here, so yes, I do.” Those seven words were the first thing Draco said to Neville in days.
It was tempting to ask why Draco disliked Harry so much but Neville was pretty sure he already knew the answer. He’d had to keep an eye out for Malfoy the bully since day one of First Year and Harry had brushed off Draco’s offer of alliance, if not friendship, in a manner that could be described as daringly arrogant. No wizarding families held grudges tighter or for longer than Blacks and Malfoys, and Draco was both.
They worked in silence at opposite ends of the room after discussing (arguing about) whether to begin with walls or ceiling (’Walls first you nincompoop, or is your gran’s vulture hat going to prop up the ceiling while we work on that?’ - I was thinking we’d use your ego)
Friendly chatter or laughter filled the rooms around them. Voices would stop as people hurried past their door. The noiseless void became thick and heavy, as though the room was steadily filling with dark smoke. McGonagall poked her head in to call them to lunch on the third day, the same unfortunate cast to her eyes and mouth as at every inspection.
“You go,” Draco said hollowly once she’d moved along the corridor.
Neville merely nodded in reply, not caring if Draco saw, and left him alone. He felt inexplicably sad and cold and sat at the sunniest table, arms crossed over his chest to hold his shoulders and unable to eat.
“Where’s Mr Malfoy?” McGonagall asked sharply. Neville shrugged without looking up from the table. “Oh no.” McGonagall was already running, a sight unusual enough to attract mass attention. Neville’s instinct told him to follow and he obeyed.
“Professor, what’s wrong?”
“You left him alone you foolish boy!” McGonagall hadn’t taken that tone with Neville since he fought beside Harry at the Ministry.
“So?”
“So?” McGonagall kept running. “So-o? He’s only been on suicide watch since…”
Neville overtook her.
*~~~*
Draco was where Neville left him, privately correcting some errors in his spellwork.
“Worried I’d shacked up with Potter while you stuffed your face?” he asked as Neville hurried into the room.
Professor McGonagall arrived too late to hear Draco’s scathing comment. Hand over heart, she exhaled relief. “Oh thank goodness! Breathe a word of what I told you Longbottom and, no. You can be trusted. Pardon the interruption Mr Malfoy.”
Draco’s grey eyes sharpened and stabbed Neville in the face. “The tartan terror told you, didn’t she? Wretchedly overprotective mother…”
Neville grinned. Gran constantly urged Neville to seek danger while Narcissa went to extremes to keep Draco out of it.
“Something funny, Longbottom?” Draco asked caustically, wand hand preparing to attack.
“Knew you were too up yourself to deprive us of your majestic presence.” Neville calmly took out his wand and got back to work. His last year of Hogwarts had honed his reflexes as well as his instincts and Neville turned, wand raised like a sword to block Draco’s strike. He’d seen many expressions on Malfoy’s face over the past seven years, observed his features more carefully than he cared to admit, but this level of rage was entirely unfamiliar. “I’ve nothing against you, Malfoy. Lower your wand.”
Draco didn’t. They began to duel in earnest.
“At least Potter’s open in his hostilities,” Draco sneered. “Your phony pacifist niceness shits me. You know why they put us together. If you want revenge you’ll have to fight for it.”
They consistently blocked and countered the series of nonverbal hexes, jinxes and curses flung at each other. Both were adept at silent spellcasting since sixth and seventh year students had been tortured for using verbal spells in Dark Arts. It meant their voices could be used for issuing challenges and exchanging insults.
“You think being bullied by you all through school is worth this? It’s a good thing Mrs Weasley did in Bellatrix Lestrange before I got to her. So many ways I thought of killing her when she escaped from Azkaban. I’d have peeled that witch’s skin off and fed it to her!”
“I would have helped you, idiot. Sadistic bitch! Disgusting, getting off on Riddle’s power and cruelty.”
“So did you. Inquisitorial Squad ring a bell?” Neville dodged and charmed a spiral of fire from Draco’s wand so it fed the flames in the tall candles lining the corridor. He retaliated with a lightning ball that Draco flicked into a corner. The wallpaper birds took flight, colliding with walls and ceiling as the foliage of trees they perched in shrivelled. Neville and Draco glared at each other.
“They put you in here to kill me, buffoon, so get on with it. Two words.” He tossed his wand to Neville. “Use both together in case you miss.”
Neville threw Draco’s wand back. “I don’t want to be a murderer.”
Draco let it clatter to the floor. “Neither did I.”
Neville’s stance faltered. Draco smirked.
“Did you think we sat at the breakfast table and that thing said ”Pass the crumpets Draco and while you’re at it, kill Albus Dumbledore.” “Sure thing Tom. Would you like honey or jam on those? How about a cup of TEA?””
Draco kicked the fallen wand up to his hand and the duel began again. Neville defended more and retaliated less as Draco vented through words and magic. The wallpaper birds stopped flitting about in panic and found their way out of the room.
“They flatter and bribe then threaten and torture. That demented cow was as bad as that thing she worshipped-no, worse. Manipulating and tormenting her own sister! As if having a heart is a weakness and every vile thing they did was normal, acceptable, admirable! McGonagall agreed to team us up, like I said, so you’d kill me. Potter’s too soft.”
“Your mother insisted…”
“Of course she did! You’re the son she wants! The one brave enough to stand against the Dark Lord!”
“I had nothing to lose! My parents don’t know who I am. Least of my friends, if they truly were my friends, which I often doubt. A mere shadow of my father, if Gran knew I was gay…” Poop. He hadn’t meant to let that one slip, any of it actually, but that fact in particular. He lowered his wand. Draco didn’t take advantage of his weakened defences.
“Father gives me that ‘last of our noble line’ lecture all the time, more tedious than Binns’ History of Magic lessons.”
“Recites every accomplishment of every notable ancestor to provide inspiration?” Neville’s mouth quirked at the edges, so did Draco’s. “So if there were no casual conversations about assassinating headmasters over crumpets, what was it like?”
Professor McGonagall arrived at the open door and was almost forced into the room by the press of witches and wizards behind her. “What is going on here? The birds…!” She swiftly regained her composure and turned to scowl at the crowd behind her. The mob took a synchronised step away from the door. “Why are there wallpaper birds flapping hysterically about the place and insisting more murder is about to be committed at Hogwarts? Explain yours… Oh-my!”
Professor Flitwick made his way to the front of the crowd. “I take it the birds were mistaken, Minerva?”
“Indeed they were Filius.” McGonagall’s voice was unfocussed as her eyes widened with wonder at the room’s interior. Draco and Neville were equally stunned as they followed her gaze. Each wall featured the same scene during a different season. Snow fell on a large and irregular bush in winter, multi-hued blossoms bloomed among its dark green foliage in spring, leaves the colour of over-cooked pastry drifted to the runner board in autumn, and berries covered the bush in summer. Butterflies, birds, and a hare moved through the seasons, their behaviour and colouring changing to suit.
“A bunny, Longbottom? Really?”
Neville was too busy staring at the ceiling to respond to Draco’s derisive tone. Clouds moved from corners to centre where they merged to form images of battle and affection before returning like waves on a tide.
“You gentlemen should go into business,” Flitwick declared in solemn awe.
Onlookers in the corridor craned their necks, only to be shooed away by the two Professors. McGonagall turned to smile at Neville and Draco. “Finish the floor and have an early mark. Narcissa and Augusta will be proud, indeed.”
“Where in hell did all this come from?” Draco murmured to Neville as the last stragglers were herded past.
“I don’t know. From our fight? A lot of magic was zinging about the room.”
“That doesn’t explain Mr Bunny and the Happy Joy Sunshine scenery.”
Maybe Harry’s right, and I do more than like you. “Dumbledore always talked about the school as though Hogwarts is alive. Perhaps it’s telling us that endings aren’t always separate from beginnings. One thing flows into the next and while each season comes around again it’s never the same as it was last year.”
“You really are nice!” Draco’s declaration was not as mocking as Neville believed he intended. “Do you think it’ll finish the floor for us if we fight some more?”
“What’s left to fight about?”
“Who thought of the most gruesome way to kill Bellatrix?”
“I’ve already won that one.”
“I wanted to split her in half from head to ha-ha, feed one side to her precious Dark Lord and the other to his ghastly snake.”
“She’s your Aunt!”
“Think she cared? The things she taught me weren’t for anyone’s benefit, only to get up Snape’s beak for usurping her position as Old Tom’s favourite Death Eater and help regain her title as revered brown-nose. Bellatrix tortured my mother, her youngest sister, for my failure to kill Dumbledore. Belonging to that select group was made to seem a privilege. Earn the honourable title of Death Eater. There is no honour, only horror. The fight was supposed to be for our freedom. Throw off the yoke placed around our necks by ignorant Muggles and live in the open for benefit of all.”
“You believed that?”
“You believe everything your gran tells you. Mother said the nature of the fight began to change before some prophecy was made about a baby supposedly destined to thwart the Dark Lord, but that’s when Mother knew he was truly insane. He started hunting babies born around the same time we were, born to parents that defied him and so Mother continued to play along with her husband and big sister in case… After that Wormtail anomaly brought Tom Riddle back to life it was worse. The fight was no longer for liberty, but revenge. Revenge on Albus Dumbledore! Revenge on Harry Potter! Revenge on a Mooncalf that stood on my toe fifty-seven years ago!” Draco’s imitation of Voldemort’s voice as he blasted small holes in the floor set Neville’s fight or flight reflex to Snidget speed. The wallpaper hare frantically burrowed into the snow. The ceiling clouds formed a Dark Mark and thunder rumbled. “Faceless git,” Draco added bitterly. A single swipe of his wand made the floor smooth again. The ceiling clouds separated into abstract blobs.
“Carpet or wood?” Neville asked so they could finish the floor and get out of there.
Draco shrugged. “Carpet I suppose, continue the motif? Sod that, let’s do the whole floor the colour of dry grass and go home.”
Neville nodded. They began at opposite corners of the room and worked toward the door. “Your colour’s off,” they said after five backward paces. There was a clearly defined line between the two halves of the room. They pretended not to enjoy creating irregular swatches on the floor until their colours matched, then silently got on with it. They sidled through the door, backs against opposite jambs as they finished the last row. The room looked terrific. Draco looked up and Neville down and they smiled at each other with contented pride.
“See you tomorrow,” Neville said casually.
“Yeah.”
Then they hurried out the door and away in opposite directions.
*~~~*
“You’re becoming too friendly with that Malfoy boy,” Gran scolded Neville as he dished out pudding with a wave of his wand. “Minerva McGonagall might find it a dandy notion but I’ll soon talk her round, put a stop to this nonsense before you’re tainted by any association with that horrible family. Now you’ve earned a decent name for yourself I will not have my grandson linked to Death Eaters.”
‘Meaning you wouldn’t have cared before?’ Neville thought. He found it sadly amusing that he could face down Voldemort and subvert Death Eater rule at Hogwarts but couldn’t talk with such cheek to his gran. “War’s over Gran,” he said meekly. She gave that shrewd look that always made him feel like a simpleton, a lot like Draco used to. Best not mention that to her, although the similarity actually made him bolder. “Or at least it will be once people stop holding grudges against entire families for the mistakes of individuals. Hold each accountable for their own, isn’t that what you were always saying?”
Gran’s expression showed that she disapproved of her own words being turned against her, but admired Neville’s backbone.
“I like Draco and I like working with him. These last weeks he hasn’t pushed me into walls or made me trip over my feet after doing that almost every day for the past seven years. Ask Professor McGonagall to separate us on the basis of other people’s prejudices and…” Neville fell silent and concentrated on his pudding. He’d almost said he’d continue seeing Draco regardless, but they weren’t seeing each other. They weren’t even friends. “War’s over Gran,” he repeated with emphasis, “but the clean up’s got a long way to go. Just let us get on with it, please.”
*~~~*
It took more than a week to finish the next small room because neither spoke, at all. Nothing decorative occurred, just dull restoration to its original state. McGonagall was not impressed and took each aside during a different break.
“What’s happened?” the professor asked Neville. He shrugged in reply. McGonagall sighed. “That’s precisely what Draco said.” She talked to them together once the room was done. “Substandard effort from you both. You cannot remain part of the select group who will be restoring the Great Hall if you need to re-enact Dumbledore versus Grindelwald to work to potential.” McGonagall turned from one to other, like a bird, as Neville and Draco exchanged surprised glances then quickly ignored each other again. “You’re next room is the second floor girls’ lavatory, home of Moaning Myrtle and former entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Myrtle asked for Harry to return with Draco while we were filling in the chamber I’m afraid, Neville, so she won’t be too happy to see you. I originally planned on allocating that room to Mr Potter and Miss Weasley to help cure half of Myrtle’s obsession. However, since Harry snorted “Sod off” through his nose and you two require motivation…”
“Blasted Potter,” Draco muttered spitefully as they made their way up the staircase.
“Harry told me Moaning Myrtle holds marital aspirations in regards to you, but I forgot to ask who she is.”
“Pervy ghost of the Mudblood killed by Slytherin’s basilisk.”
Neville smacked Draco across the thigh with his wand.
“She’s a complete pervert! Hiding under the bubbles in the prefect bath-tub, ask Potter. Whip me with your wand again and you’ll have to wave it by wiggling your hips.”
“Fine.” Neville hexed Draco’s nose-hair instead. “Use the word Mudblood again and hair will be growing out of holes lower down.” He undid the rapid-grow hex before Draco’s nose hairs reached his lip. Draco had raised his wand at the same time and they once again crossed like swords. Draco didn’t say anything once he understood Neville’s intentions, simply lowered his wand. There was no animosity in his expression. Neville deliberately looked at the floor and kept quiet for the remaining work period, although he was often tempted to laugh aloud at Moaning Myrtle’s attempts to seduce Draco.
“He’ll run out of ways to tell her to bog off by the end of the day,” he boasted to Harry after sharing Draco’s most memorable comebacks. They laughed again. Neville chewed thoughtfully on his roast beef and lettuce roll before noticing Harry’s smugly amused smile from the corner of his eye. He could guess what caused it. “Shove off Harry.”
Harry’s smile broadened into a grin. “Your boyfriend’s watching you again. I think he’s jealous.” He waved across the room currently being used as a canteen. It was too wet to eat outside and the Great Hall was cordoned off while professors, the Ministry and members of the School Board researched the ceiling enchantment. Neville briefly resisted the urge to look in that direction. Draco’s scowling face turned down toward his food as their eyes met. “Mummy clearly approves of you,” Harry added into his pumpkin juice.
Neville’s startled gaze moved to the woman at Draco’s right and saw Narcissa’s subtle, unexpectedly shy smile. His chest expanded with seventy-five percent inhaled breath and twenty-five percent something else as he looked again at Draco, then back to Narcissa. He awkwardly returned her smile. Relief replaced Narcissa’s reticence and she turned to say something to Draco. Neville immediately stared at the plate balanced on his knees.
“This may be difficult believe, but you can trust him. He likes you,” Harry said the last three words as though he was learning to read. “Still hates my guts, but then I did steal his wand, make him lose his mother’s and on top of that, became master of the Elder Wand before he knew it was his. A series of events like that would probably tick Luna off. She believes you and Malfoy getting together to be more wonderful than finding a Crumpled-Horn Snorkack, highlight of her life apparently. If Ron was here, he’d be taking the piss.”
“We’re not … we’re barely civil to each other. You lot’ve all got us paired off and we aren’t even friends yet!” Neville refused to look up as he kicked enamel dust from one shoe.
“Yet,” Harry said.
“What’d be the point anyway? I can’t exactly bring him along anywhere you lot hang out. No-one’d ever speak to me again. ‘specially not Ron, Seamus, Ginny or Dean. Hermione’d be checking me for the Imperius Curse or something the entire time. Plus he’s about as interested in Moaning Myrtle as he is in me.” Neville looked up. Draco looked down. Neville looked down again. “Can’t stand to look at me,” he lamented.
“Can’t stand to be caught looking at you, more like. So-you’ve thought about this then?”
“No and there’s no point thinking about it.” Or talking about it with Harry. “Seen Luna?”
Harry nodded. “About two yards to the left of your heart’s desire. Hardly surprising you didn’t notice her orange, purple and green overalls, or the singing bandanna covering her hair. Oh look, she’s sitting with him now. That should help you find her.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Watching Draco Malfoy pine after the boy he’s bullied for seven years? You bet!”
Neville transfigured Harry’s turkey and avocado bun into a tortoise. It slowly poked its head out and seemed to scold Harry with its eyes. Harry picked it up with a laugh and examined it from all angles. “Apart from a few sesame seeds on its shell, it’s indistinguishable from those I saw at the zoo on my cousin Dudley’s eleventh birthday. The day I accidentally locked him in a snake enclosure after accidentally setting the python free, did I tell you about that?” Neville was too pre-occupied with this Malfoy business to listen. Harry noticed when Neville didn’t respond to a suggestion to show the turkey-roll tortoise to McGonagall and earn a belated Outstanding in her class. “If you decide to go ahead with Draco, give me the heads up. Then I can get Ron and Ginny used to the idea before they catch you snogging him at the Three Broomsticks, and cause a scene.”
Kissing-Neville never let his thoughts reach that point. He wished Harry hadn’t planted the idea so deep in his head. Thinking about it would no doubt lead to other thoughts that made Neville blush. He decided to get back to the girls’ lavatory early, in order to be composed and in control of certain mental imagery before Draco arrived.
“You’re keen,” Darco remarked. “Hoping to steal Myrtle off me?”
“Not my type,” Neville replied when he’d meant to say he couldn’t possibly come between them, or something of the sort. “Know anything about S-bends?”
“Only that I don’t want to spend my honeymoon in one.”
“I heard that,” Myrtle said snappily from her toilet and flushed herself away in a sulk. Neville and Draco smiled broadly at each other and then quickly looked away.
“Walls are done. Floor, ceiling, mirrors and cubicles up to us but leave the actual plumbing and loos for someone else?” Neville suggested.
“Sounds good.”
By unspoken agreement, they always began at opposite ends of a room and travelled in the same direction to maintain the maximum physical distance until it was no longer possible. Their silence wasn’t as dreadful or menacing as it used to be. Toward the end of the next day, Draco flushed all the lavatories and ran every tap that wasn’t broken to ensure Myrtle wasn’t eavesdropping. He tucked his wand up his sleeve and perched his bum against the edge of a hand basin.
“Did you kill anyone?” he asked sombrely.
“I tried not to.” Neville expected to be berated for this ambiguous response. Draco said nothing. “Did you?”
“You ask as if you haven’t already assumed I did.”
“I try not to assume anything.”
“Everyone else assumes I did.”
Neville sat on the closed lavatory opposite Draco’s basin and put his wand on the floor between his feet. “Did you?”
“I tried not to.” Draco’s voice held none of the anger or arrogance Neville had come to believe was his natural tone of speaking. “But then other people were either made to do it or suffered for my cowardice.”
“Sparing a life isn’t cowardice. Mercy isn’t a weakness.” Unless you’re a Death Eater, Neville supposed. But he wasn’t going to say that. He wasn’t Ron.
“I didn’t stop any of them though, did I?”
Neville had no idea how to respond. After a moment of staring at the floor between Draco’s expensive sneakers, he noticed Draco’s weight shift on to them. Neville’s head snapped up. “Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“Why?” Neville slowly stood.
“I don’t belong here and you know it. Whoever sent you to our house-whatever their plan was failed.”
They weren’t a couple, but Neville wondered if this hollow, aching helplessness was what breaking up felt like. He wanted to plead, find some way of talking Draco into staying. But then Draco would know, throw it back in Neville’s face and make him feel worthless like he’d always done, so easily.
“Fine. Naff off then and hide in a corner until everything goes away, except it doesn’t work Malfoy! Just when you think life can’t possibly get worse, some arsehole like you comes along…”
Draco’s features became a stone façade. Neville fought to take back years of juvenile conflict and erase them. It was too late. Draco slammed the remaining chunk of door on his way out. It broke away from its single hinge and fell to the floor. Neville continued to work alone. His spellwork hadn’t been this awful for ages and he soon gave up. Gossip had it that witches and wizards of all ages would sneak into the Room of All Seasons when the task ahead seemed impossible, including Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. After a moment’s reflection they felt able to continue. Neville concluded that even if the rumours were bollocks, the worst that could happen is he’d be reminded of how well he and Draco had been getting along. Of how close they stood in that doorway and shared a look of mutual pride…
Draco was already there. His white-blond hair was turned away from the door, head resting on his knees as he sat on the floor with his tailor-dressed back against the winter wall, hands locked on wrists at his ankles, shoulders trembling and then still, then trembling again in a pattern of emotional agony Neville knew only too well. He closed and locked the door without a sound then knelt before Draco. He hesitated before touching the back of one hand-the veins were clearly visible because Draco gripped his wrists so tightly. Draco rapidly moved both hands behind his bum, trying to disguise his startled sniff. Neville carefully put a hand on each of Draco’s knees.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s hardly your fault I’m an arsehole. Shame of his generation,” Draco scornfully quoted an old Daily Prophet headline.
“We found it horrifying enough to live at Hogwarts with a handful of Death Eaters. We never considered how it would be to return home for the holidays and be surrounded by them, with no common room or Professor McGonagall to provide refuge. Who can say I wouldn’t have made the same choices in those circumstances? Or worse ones?”
“The Killing Stick was mine and I didn’t know it. I could have killed them all before they left the castle. Become the next him.” Draco’s bitterness, rage and self-loathing somehow infected the enchanted walls and ceiling. The winter scene became sharper and more detailed as others paled and blurred. His features were sharp as he finally turned to face Neville. “It would have been worth it to be rid of them, not having a soul. I didn’t tell my aunt they’d found your beloved Potter because if he was the Chosen One he’d free my family of cursed Riddle. I didn’t care about Potter, Weasley, or that Mudblood Granger-or you. I still don’t. I don’t give a Knarl’s arse what you lot think of me, either.”
Neville didn’t believe that. “You’re more like us than him. Dumbledore made the mistake of trusting Grindelwald…”
“Becoming friends would be a mistake…”
“We can be more than friends.” Neville wanted the ceiling to become a funnel and suck him up into the whirling clouds.
“They were more than friends. Surely your gran read Reeter Skeeter’s book about Dumbledore. I’m surprised she didn’t warn you to keep away from that evil Malfoy boy.”
“I don’t take orders from Gran.”
“Since when?”
“Since she told me to keep away from that evil Malfoy boy,” Neville admitted with a hint of smile. “I’ll avoid you because you’re a prick, not because someone tells me to.”
Draco snort-laughed abruptly, and Neville laughed at the sound. “Even Weasley?” Draco asked with characteristic mischief.
Neville smiled dorkily as he nodded. Draco kissed him, a short, dry touching of lips before leaning his head back against the wall. He looked like he regretted it. Neville’s arms and knees shook as he placed his hands on the floor, either side of Draco, and leaned in to risk kissing him in return. He tried to make it soft yet straightforward. Let there be no mistaking his intention. Their mouths met and began to move slowly, similar to eating soft ice-cream from a cone at one-quarter speed. It was a tentative but serious kiss that sent every nerve in Neville’s body haywire. Draco’s knees opened as his feet slid forward along the floor. Neville crawled closer and their kiss continued. Their hands collided as they reached for each other’s back, shoulder, neck, or face. Neville hoped Draco found the experience as incredible as he did, while expecting him to pull away at any moment to tell Neville he’s a gullible idiot and a crap kisser with it. It seemed to go on forever at the same pressure and pace.
The sound of quietly groaning stone was followed by an organic sound familiar from the Herbology Greenhouses and Forbidden Forest. Neville didn’t want to stop kissing Draco to look. They were bound to fight again once the kissing stopped and Neville was sick of fighting. He wanted to enjoy and remember the warmth of his first proper kiss, this embrace, for as long as possible.
Increased noise in the corridor suggested the work day was over. So was the illusion that they were alone. They moved slowly apart, limbs stiff from holding the same position for so long. Draco kept the moment pure by kissing Neville quickly again, more seriously than the first time. Neville returned it, with the third and final being entirely mutual. A sharp wooden retort followed each brief meeting of lips. Cautiously, they moved their heads to look. The spring scenery was brightest now, with summer almost as clear, and a large elliptical table had grown in the centre of the room from the roots of the wall-trees. Three chairs had dropped from nowhere, like fruit. One landed on its side.
“Guess we better not shag in here,” Draco quipped huskily. Neville saw his awe reflected in Draco’s expression.
“Does this mean we’re on?” He asked carefully. “I mean, if Hogwarts approves…” Neville’s left hand travelled down Draco’s right arm until his fingers traced the back of his hand. Draco’s left fingers stroked the back of Neville’s neck and his eyes held Neville’s.
“Definitely on.” They kissed again, and a fourth chair landed with a clap. “How many chairs do you think they’ll need?”
Neville grinned and helped his boyfriend to his feet. Draco kept hold of his hand as they inspected the wooden furniture. Professors Flitwick, McGonagall and Slughorn opened the door to clear the room as they did every evening.
“Here they are, Narcissa. Nothing to worry about,” Flitwick said with a cautious smile in the direction of Neville and Draco’s joined hands as Narcissa found her way past Slughorn. Their fingers twitched doubtfully but then held fast. No-one commented on it.
McGonagall strode directly to the new furniture then inspected the walls and ceiling again. “Forget the lavatories. You will both report to the Great Hall before 7am tomorrow. Leave Augusta at home, Neville. We mustn’t upset established equilibriums.” Her hand caressed the table and the back of the nearest chair. “Gentlemen,” she nodded before leaving.
Flitwick smiled encouragingly and Slughorn declared “Spontaneous too. Not since Lily Evans…” before they followed Professor McGonagall.
“Come along Draco.” Nothing in Narcissa’s tone or expression revealed her thoughts.
“See you stupidly early tomorrow then,” Draco said with a tight smile and they reluctantly released each other’s hand.
“Yeah,” Neville replied docilely and wondered if they were already off.
*~~~*
Neville thought it best not to mention his afternoon of kissing Draco Malfoy to his gran. Or anyone else just yet, not until he knew they were definitely, definitely on. Doubt didn’t stop him going over every detail in moments of silence. During the night he imagined Draco telling Narcissa and Lucius that there’d been nothing, Neville was a stupid, fat, ugly, and useless nothing who had a moment of glory and was trying to cling to it by coming on to an infamous bad boy. ‘Saint something-highly-insulting’ he’d call him, in that same snide way he referred to Harry as ‘Saint Potter’. Neville berated himself for being so pathetic and gullible.
Then he remembered Draco’s expressive mood swings, the way ‘their’ room responded to their arguments and making up, Draco’s fingers staying linked with his in Narcissa’s presence. His wry comment about shagging-it was all real.
For one glorious afternoon, Draco Malfoy had been his boyfriend.
Part 2
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco/Neville
Rating: R Words: 7670 (part 1 of 8)
Warnings/Contents: combines book and movie sources, author’s sense of humour, sexual content, fluff, angst and romance
Disclaimer: characters and source material created by JK Rowling-worship her
Summary: Hogwarts needs rebuilding. The Ministry (and perhaps Hogwarts itself) insists Neville be the one to recruit Draco and Narcissa. Forced to work together the young wizards begin to see war and peace with a new perspective. Will their tentative relationship become a metaphor for peace, or a chapter in Luna’s favourite book, Romantically Tragic: True Tales of Disastrous Love?
Neville approached the gates of Malfoy Manor, uncertain as to what forms of security surrounded the property. The Dark Mark filter would no longer be effective because the Death Eaters’ brands disappeared with the last of Voldemort.
He had seen Draco’s, seen his pride in it gradually become fear of it and then shame.
We were just boys.
The gap between sixteen and seventeen had never been so great. They would be eighteen soon. Neville already felt ancient.
A female house-elf apparated inside the ornate gates. She wore a starched and very pretty floral pillowcase. “On behalf of her mistress, Topsy must ask who is calling.” Topsy’s voice was high without being squeaky or irritating. Neville told her his name. “To whom do you wish to speak?”
“Master Draco.”
“Master Draco is not receiving visitors. Have you a message to convey?”
“It’s… um… never mind.”
“Very well, sir.” Topsy disapparated before Neville changed his mind. He stared, dumfounded, for a moment then walked to the end of the lane before apparating back to the Burrow.
“Well?” Molly Weasley asked with an encouraging smile. Neville explained.
“Then you’ll have to go back tomorrow and pester the arrogant little snot,” his grandmother insisted. “Hogwarts isn’t going to rebuild itself.”
“Yes Gran, no Gran.” Neville didn’t see why Kingsley Shacklebolt stipulated he be the one to convince the Malfoys to help. Draco let Death Eaters into Hogwarts the night Dumbledore died. The Ministry should be able to force his family to restore the school to its former glory. Apparently that would weaken the magic woven into more than the physical reconstruction. Harry and Ron showed no sympathy, offering such wise advice as “Better you than me” and “I’d kill the fairy-blond twat.”
Neville must have seen every floral pillowcase Topsy owned before summer began. Each effort earned the same response, until Draco apparated to the gate instead of Topsy.
“Persistent devil aren’t you, Longbottom? Or perhaps you’re having an affair with Mother’s house-elf.”
Neville was surprised into silence.
“Still, Topsy’s probably a fair step up from what you’re used to. Lord knows what sickly nicknames the likes of Lavender Brown would call you.”
The mention of Lavender Brown stirred Neville’s vocal chords. “Greyback got her, during the invasion of Hogwarts.”
Draco’s complexion could get no paler while he drew breath. It darkened instead to the pink of suppressed consternation. “If you’ve come to list my family’s sins and weaknesses you’re too late. That worm Riddle ran through them on a daily basis while he was here. Don’t look so shocked Longbottom. That’s his name isn’t it? Changing mine to Suck-my Dick Fat-boy won’t make the likes of you think any differently of me.”
Malfoy’s attitude irritated Neville. “Why do you hate me? Since we met…”
“I’m sorry,” Draco said mockingly as he crossed his arms, “how did this conversation become about you?”
Neville said what he’d been sent to say. “Hogwarts needs rebuilding…”
“Ministry’s frozen our assets, those they haven’t already confiscated,” Malfoy interjected.
“We need wandbearers, not money. If those from every House pitch in…”
Malfoy talked over him again, as he had for the past seven years. “Join your working bee so the Ministry can round us up and shove us in Azkaban?” His sneer spurred Neville on.
“Since we were eleven you’ve done nothing but sneer, bully, and look down your nose at people but the only time anyone’s envied you was when your parents ran through the battle for Hogwarts calling your name. Yours was the only family inside the grounds that didn’t fight, on either side -Don’t be ashamed,” Neville said hurriedly, risking who knew what by grasping the bars of the gate as Draco scowled. “They love you more than they feared Voldemort, other Death Eaters, or the Order of the Phoenix. That’s how they redeemed themselves. In Harry’s book anyway-and in mine.”
“We don’t need your pity Longbottom,” Draco snapped sulkily.
“Good, because I’ve none to give you,” Neville declared flatly. “The war’s over,” he continued eagerly. “We survived. Rebuilding Hogwarts is symbolic of the world we want to shape from the aftermath. We need to do it together, to make it stronger than the one torn apart.”
Draco turned away. Neville reached between the bars to touch his arm. “Hiding from what you fear doesn’t make it go away.”
Draco shrugged off Neville’s touch. “No need to tell me.”
“What was it like?” Neville asked with slow anxiety. For a moment he thought Draco was going to answer, that his hopes for peace weren’t futile.
“Have whoever’s in charge send Mother an owl with the details.” Draco apparated into the manor house and Topsy immediately appeared beside the gate.
“Mistress says ‘Thank you for bringing Master Draco out of the haunted house and into the sunlight.’ Also that my Mistress is deeply sorry, for what she did not say, only that Master Neville will know. Do you, sir?”
Neville nodded. Perhaps he did.
*~~~*
With Harry’s assistance, the Professors of Hogwarts had already located and filled in the Chamber of Secrets. Harry had been permitted to plant a new Whomping Willow in the same place as the first, which had been destroyed by Giants and fire. Luna commented on the appropriateness of the memorial he’d chosen to commemorate his parents, godfather, and Professor Lupin.
“And Professor Snape, for that matter,” Harry agreed. “His history was caught in the branches of the original too.”
Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, and Slughorn divided and oversaw the assembled volunteers, taking particular care not to place relatives of war criminals with those of their victims - with two notable exceptions.
“Neville and Draco, I want you on my team with Harry, so over here. Now gentlemen,” Professor McGonagall demanded as she looked around like a falcon after prey. “And where are my Hufflepuffs from yesterday? Come along girls. Yes, yes the three boys are very famous, intimidating and handsome. You can discuss the lovely shape of their bottoms after we get some work done. This way.”
Gaggles of girls communicated in giggles behind their hands as they walked past the section of outer wall where the three young men worked.
“Blimey Harry, did you cop this nonsense all the time?” Neville asked in low tones.
“Not all the time,” Harry admitted. “People mostly pointed and muttered horrible things behind my back. Or to my face,” he added, looking toward Malfoy from the corner of one eye.
Draco worked silently and as far from the rest of McGonagall’s crew as he could get without being hauled back. The tension in his stance and occasional uncertainty of his wand arm showed that Draco was aware of every remark voiced in their vicinity and was pretending he wasn’t actually here. Neville had spent most of life like that.
“Stare off Longbottom, or people’ll think you’re hot for me,” Draco said without turning hand or eye from his allocated task.
Harry’s stifled laugh sounded very much like “No der.” His amusement died when Neville turned on him, possibly because the bricks Neville were shifting landed on Harry’s foot.
“You think I fancy Malfoy?”
“No, course not Neville. I was only-don’t you?”
“I don’t hate him,” Neville admitted.
“I am still here you know.” Draco’s retort sounded like the Malfoy they were more familiar with. “If you’ve started match-making now you’ve got nothing heroic to do Potter then I suggest you stop, because you’re crap at it.”
Neville started to chuckle. He was caught between Harry’s raised eyebrows declaring ‘Aha!’ and Draco’s lowered brows demanding he desist, so he stopped. “What he said, Harry.”
McGonagall strolled along the lines of reconstruction, inspecting her troops. “Well done Draco. Perhaps you can give Mr Potter some pointers.” She smiled before hurrying off to scold her Hufflepuffs. Draco muttered a tirade about not needing this pity party and deliberately put in less effort. Headmistress McGonagall was not impressed when she returned after lunch and pursed her lips at his shoddy spellwork. The same expression was aimed in Draco’s direction. He stared defiantly. McGonagall raised her wand sharply and undid it all. “Do it properly this time.” She strode away without further comment. Draco seemed pleased by this criticism rather than offended by it. Harry and Neville exchanged surprised glances.
“Can’t be Polyjuice,” Harry said loud enough for Draco to hear. “He’d have to be drinking it every few minutes to keep the transformation stable.”
Draco subtly flicked nonverbal hexes in their direction. Neville and Harry blocked it. “Nah, it’s definitely him,” Neville said with a grin.
Draco asked to be assigned to a different work crew during McGonagall’s final inspection for the day. “Stick me with Sprout if you don’t trust me with Slughorn.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that Mr Malfoy, not without losing Potter and Longbottom too.” The three looked at her curiously. “Who else would possess the necessary combination of patience and balls to put up with you?” Harry and Neville smirked. Draco sneered. “Besides which, Narcissa insists that you be grouped with Neville in any allocation.”
All three expressed identical extremes of disbelief, with Harry declaring “Malfoy’d rather nibble Niffler nuts than co-operate with Neville.”
“I haven’t seen such consensus between Slytherin and Gryffindor since that partition to have Professor Lockhart reclassified as a Brainless Bundimin was bandied about! My decision stands, gentlemen. This is where I’ve put you and where you shall remain until this section is complete.” Her boot heels clicked on the cleared cobbles. The three wizards looked at each other in dismay.
“See you tomorrow then, Draco,” Harry said blankly.
“Yeah,” Neville added.
Draco scowled wordlessly as he tucked his wand up a shirtsleeve and went in search of his mother, no doubt to complain. Neville caught himself watching the sway of Draco’s walk and nodding along with the Hufflepuff assessment of “nice arse for such an arse.” Either Harry didn’t notice or he did a thoroughly convincing job of pretending he didn’t. To play it safe, Neville asked how McGonagall knew about the Gilderoy Bundimin petition Seamus started.
“Her signature was near the top, just above Fred and George,” Harry replied with admiration.
*~~~*
The void between Neville, Harry and Draco became smaller each day, mostly because Harry kept nudging and moving Neville along.
“I’m not interested in him Harry,” Neville insisted during a drinks break on the hottest day. “Stop shoving me into his personal space.”
“Fine then, I’ll work closest to him.”
Harry earned a glare from Draco reminiscent of the good old days of openly loathing each other. They spent more time bickering and duelling than getting anything done.
“He must like you,” Harry told Neville on the way to lunch.
“He said more to you in that past two hours than he has to me all summer.”
“Yeah, but most of those were curse words.” Harry’s jeans were still smoking at the back from a hex Draco shot at his bum.
“Maybe I’m just hot for you Potter,” Malfoy quipped as he swaggered past. “Getting a nice look at my arse there, ladies?” he asked. The usual gaggle of girls behind Neville and Harry laughed.
“I thought he meant us,” Neville admitted quietly.
“You’re starting to like him.”
Neville squinted at the sunlight casting Malfoy’s form into silhouette. “I don’t want to,” he said eventually, as though finding Draco Malfoy alright was the most shameful thing ever.
“Blimey Neville, he’s not pure evil.” Harry explained events from Malfoy Manor and the Room of Requirement that Luna remained unaware of. “Twice he could have killed me or let someone else do it. Moaning Myrtle wants to marry him because he’s so gooey and sensitive deep within that icy façade.”
“Way deep.”
“Exceedingly deep.”
“Unfathomable.”
“Malfoy’s not quite that deep.” The two friends smiled at each other. “War’s over Neville. He’s not an opponent anymore. Ask him out.”
“No way. He’s not-he likes girls.” Neville gestured to where Draco hammed it up for some female admirers. Draco noticed. That bitingly arrogant expression had been pointed at Neville since they met.
“Malfoy’s just taking the piss,” said Harry. “He’s about as interested in those girls as you are. He knows you’re looking, or hopes you are.”
Neville charmed Harry’s sneakers so they bit his toes. Harry grinned triumphantly as he removed the charm. “You two are made for each other.”
Neville made Harry stay between them for the next session of the day, which continued along the same lines as the first. McGonagall’s boots cracked cobbles as she strode to them before all workers broke for afternoon tea.
“This nonsense has gone on long enough. Longbottom, swap stations with Potter so we won’t be wasting more time clearing away their mess! Honestly, how you three can continue to be so juvenile with all you’ve been through.” She lectured them through afternoon tea, ignoring Draco’s insistence that further twaddle could be avoided by transferring him to a different work crew. “Remember the time you entertained students in the quadrangle as a ferret, Mr Malfoy?” McGonagall asked pointedly. Draco scowled silently. McGonagall turned her most imposing stare on each of them. “If I need to remind either of you three to behave yourselves one more time, I will transfigure the lot of you and tie you in a sack until you sort yourselves out.”
*~~~*
They worked sensibly for the next few days and were given internal repairs as a reward. Harry was paired with Daphne Greengrass, who’d been recently recruited by Narcissa Malfoy and Professor Slughorn. Neville worked with Malfoy in the room at the centre of the corridor so McGonagall would walk past them twice as often as everyone else.
“Call this a reward?” Neville muttered as they surveyed the windowless interior.
“Potter’s not here, so yes, I do.” Those seven words were the first thing Draco said to Neville in days.
It was tempting to ask why Draco disliked Harry so much but Neville was pretty sure he already knew the answer. He’d had to keep an eye out for Malfoy the bully since day one of First Year and Harry had brushed off Draco’s offer of alliance, if not friendship, in a manner that could be described as daringly arrogant. No wizarding families held grudges tighter or for longer than Blacks and Malfoys, and Draco was both.
They worked in silence at opposite ends of the room after discussing (arguing about) whether to begin with walls or ceiling (’Walls first you nincompoop, or is your gran’s vulture hat going to prop up the ceiling while we work on that?’ - I was thinking we’d use your ego)
Friendly chatter or laughter filled the rooms around them. Voices would stop as people hurried past their door. The noiseless void became thick and heavy, as though the room was steadily filling with dark smoke. McGonagall poked her head in to call them to lunch on the third day, the same unfortunate cast to her eyes and mouth as at every inspection.
“You go,” Draco said hollowly once she’d moved along the corridor.
Neville merely nodded in reply, not caring if Draco saw, and left him alone. He felt inexplicably sad and cold and sat at the sunniest table, arms crossed over his chest to hold his shoulders and unable to eat.
“Where’s Mr Malfoy?” McGonagall asked sharply. Neville shrugged without looking up from the table. “Oh no.” McGonagall was already running, a sight unusual enough to attract mass attention. Neville’s instinct told him to follow and he obeyed.
“Professor, what’s wrong?”
“You left him alone you foolish boy!” McGonagall hadn’t taken that tone with Neville since he fought beside Harry at the Ministry.
“So?”
“So?” McGonagall kept running. “So-o? He’s only been on suicide watch since…”
Neville overtook her.
*~~~*
Draco was where Neville left him, privately correcting some errors in his spellwork.
“Worried I’d shacked up with Potter while you stuffed your face?” he asked as Neville hurried into the room.
Professor McGonagall arrived too late to hear Draco’s scathing comment. Hand over heart, she exhaled relief. “Oh thank goodness! Breathe a word of what I told you Longbottom and, no. You can be trusted. Pardon the interruption Mr Malfoy.”
Draco’s grey eyes sharpened and stabbed Neville in the face. “The tartan terror told you, didn’t she? Wretchedly overprotective mother…”
Neville grinned. Gran constantly urged Neville to seek danger while Narcissa went to extremes to keep Draco out of it.
“Something funny, Longbottom?” Draco asked caustically, wand hand preparing to attack.
“Knew you were too up yourself to deprive us of your majestic presence.” Neville calmly took out his wand and got back to work. His last year of Hogwarts had honed his reflexes as well as his instincts and Neville turned, wand raised like a sword to block Draco’s strike. He’d seen many expressions on Malfoy’s face over the past seven years, observed his features more carefully than he cared to admit, but this level of rage was entirely unfamiliar. “I’ve nothing against you, Malfoy. Lower your wand.”
Draco didn’t. They began to duel in earnest.
“At least Potter’s open in his hostilities,” Draco sneered. “Your phony pacifist niceness shits me. You know why they put us together. If you want revenge you’ll have to fight for it.”
They consistently blocked and countered the series of nonverbal hexes, jinxes and curses flung at each other. Both were adept at silent spellcasting since sixth and seventh year students had been tortured for using verbal spells in Dark Arts. It meant their voices could be used for issuing challenges and exchanging insults.
“You think being bullied by you all through school is worth this? It’s a good thing Mrs Weasley did in Bellatrix Lestrange before I got to her. So many ways I thought of killing her when she escaped from Azkaban. I’d have peeled that witch’s skin off and fed it to her!”
“I would have helped you, idiot. Sadistic bitch! Disgusting, getting off on Riddle’s power and cruelty.”
“So did you. Inquisitorial Squad ring a bell?” Neville dodged and charmed a spiral of fire from Draco’s wand so it fed the flames in the tall candles lining the corridor. He retaliated with a lightning ball that Draco flicked into a corner. The wallpaper birds took flight, colliding with walls and ceiling as the foliage of trees they perched in shrivelled. Neville and Draco glared at each other.
“They put you in here to kill me, buffoon, so get on with it. Two words.” He tossed his wand to Neville. “Use both together in case you miss.”
Neville threw Draco’s wand back. “I don’t want to be a murderer.”
Draco let it clatter to the floor. “Neither did I.”
Neville’s stance faltered. Draco smirked.
“Did you think we sat at the breakfast table and that thing said ”Pass the crumpets Draco and while you’re at it, kill Albus Dumbledore.” “Sure thing Tom. Would you like honey or jam on those? How about a cup of TEA?””
Draco kicked the fallen wand up to his hand and the duel began again. Neville defended more and retaliated less as Draco vented through words and magic. The wallpaper birds stopped flitting about in panic and found their way out of the room.
“They flatter and bribe then threaten and torture. That demented cow was as bad as that thing she worshipped-no, worse. Manipulating and tormenting her own sister! As if having a heart is a weakness and every vile thing they did was normal, acceptable, admirable! McGonagall agreed to team us up, like I said, so you’d kill me. Potter’s too soft.”
“Your mother insisted…”
“Of course she did! You’re the son she wants! The one brave enough to stand against the Dark Lord!”
“I had nothing to lose! My parents don’t know who I am. Least of my friends, if they truly were my friends, which I often doubt. A mere shadow of my father, if Gran knew I was gay…” Poop. He hadn’t meant to let that one slip, any of it actually, but that fact in particular. He lowered his wand. Draco didn’t take advantage of his weakened defences.
“Father gives me that ‘last of our noble line’ lecture all the time, more tedious than Binns’ History of Magic lessons.”
“Recites every accomplishment of every notable ancestor to provide inspiration?” Neville’s mouth quirked at the edges, so did Draco’s. “So if there were no casual conversations about assassinating headmasters over crumpets, what was it like?”
Professor McGonagall arrived at the open door and was almost forced into the room by the press of witches and wizards behind her. “What is going on here? The birds…!” She swiftly regained her composure and turned to scowl at the crowd behind her. The mob took a synchronised step away from the door. “Why are there wallpaper birds flapping hysterically about the place and insisting more murder is about to be committed at Hogwarts? Explain yours… Oh-my!”
Professor Flitwick made his way to the front of the crowd. “I take it the birds were mistaken, Minerva?”
“Indeed they were Filius.” McGonagall’s voice was unfocussed as her eyes widened with wonder at the room’s interior. Draco and Neville were equally stunned as they followed her gaze. Each wall featured the same scene during a different season. Snow fell on a large and irregular bush in winter, multi-hued blossoms bloomed among its dark green foliage in spring, leaves the colour of over-cooked pastry drifted to the runner board in autumn, and berries covered the bush in summer. Butterflies, birds, and a hare moved through the seasons, their behaviour and colouring changing to suit.
“A bunny, Longbottom? Really?”
Neville was too busy staring at the ceiling to respond to Draco’s derisive tone. Clouds moved from corners to centre where they merged to form images of battle and affection before returning like waves on a tide.
“You gentlemen should go into business,” Flitwick declared in solemn awe.
Onlookers in the corridor craned their necks, only to be shooed away by the two Professors. McGonagall turned to smile at Neville and Draco. “Finish the floor and have an early mark. Narcissa and Augusta will be proud, indeed.”
“Where in hell did all this come from?” Draco murmured to Neville as the last stragglers were herded past.
“I don’t know. From our fight? A lot of magic was zinging about the room.”
“That doesn’t explain Mr Bunny and the Happy Joy Sunshine scenery.”
Maybe Harry’s right, and I do more than like you. “Dumbledore always talked about the school as though Hogwarts is alive. Perhaps it’s telling us that endings aren’t always separate from beginnings. One thing flows into the next and while each season comes around again it’s never the same as it was last year.”
“You really are nice!” Draco’s declaration was not as mocking as Neville believed he intended. “Do you think it’ll finish the floor for us if we fight some more?”
“What’s left to fight about?”
“Who thought of the most gruesome way to kill Bellatrix?”
“I’ve already won that one.”
“I wanted to split her in half from head to ha-ha, feed one side to her precious Dark Lord and the other to his ghastly snake.”
“She’s your Aunt!”
“Think she cared? The things she taught me weren’t for anyone’s benefit, only to get up Snape’s beak for usurping her position as Old Tom’s favourite Death Eater and help regain her title as revered brown-nose. Bellatrix tortured my mother, her youngest sister, for my failure to kill Dumbledore. Belonging to that select group was made to seem a privilege. Earn the honourable title of Death Eater. There is no honour, only horror. The fight was supposed to be for our freedom. Throw off the yoke placed around our necks by ignorant Muggles and live in the open for benefit of all.”
“You believed that?”
“You believe everything your gran tells you. Mother said the nature of the fight began to change before some prophecy was made about a baby supposedly destined to thwart the Dark Lord, but that’s when Mother knew he was truly insane. He started hunting babies born around the same time we were, born to parents that defied him and so Mother continued to play along with her husband and big sister in case… After that Wormtail anomaly brought Tom Riddle back to life it was worse. The fight was no longer for liberty, but revenge. Revenge on Albus Dumbledore! Revenge on Harry Potter! Revenge on a Mooncalf that stood on my toe fifty-seven years ago!” Draco’s imitation of Voldemort’s voice as he blasted small holes in the floor set Neville’s fight or flight reflex to Snidget speed. The wallpaper hare frantically burrowed into the snow. The ceiling clouds formed a Dark Mark and thunder rumbled. “Faceless git,” Draco added bitterly. A single swipe of his wand made the floor smooth again. The ceiling clouds separated into abstract blobs.
“Carpet or wood?” Neville asked so they could finish the floor and get out of there.
Draco shrugged. “Carpet I suppose, continue the motif? Sod that, let’s do the whole floor the colour of dry grass and go home.”
Neville nodded. They began at opposite corners of the room and worked toward the door. “Your colour’s off,” they said after five backward paces. There was a clearly defined line between the two halves of the room. They pretended not to enjoy creating irregular swatches on the floor until their colours matched, then silently got on with it. They sidled through the door, backs against opposite jambs as they finished the last row. The room looked terrific. Draco looked up and Neville down and they smiled at each other with contented pride.
“See you tomorrow,” Neville said casually.
“Yeah.”
Then they hurried out the door and away in opposite directions.
*~~~*
“You’re becoming too friendly with that Malfoy boy,” Gran scolded Neville as he dished out pudding with a wave of his wand. “Minerva McGonagall might find it a dandy notion but I’ll soon talk her round, put a stop to this nonsense before you’re tainted by any association with that horrible family. Now you’ve earned a decent name for yourself I will not have my grandson linked to Death Eaters.”
‘Meaning you wouldn’t have cared before?’ Neville thought. He found it sadly amusing that he could face down Voldemort and subvert Death Eater rule at Hogwarts but couldn’t talk with such cheek to his gran. “War’s over Gran,” he said meekly. She gave that shrewd look that always made him feel like a simpleton, a lot like Draco used to. Best not mention that to her, although the similarity actually made him bolder. “Or at least it will be once people stop holding grudges against entire families for the mistakes of individuals. Hold each accountable for their own, isn’t that what you were always saying?”
Gran’s expression showed that she disapproved of her own words being turned against her, but admired Neville’s backbone.
“I like Draco and I like working with him. These last weeks he hasn’t pushed me into walls or made me trip over my feet after doing that almost every day for the past seven years. Ask Professor McGonagall to separate us on the basis of other people’s prejudices and…” Neville fell silent and concentrated on his pudding. He’d almost said he’d continue seeing Draco regardless, but they weren’t seeing each other. They weren’t even friends. “War’s over Gran,” he repeated with emphasis, “but the clean up’s got a long way to go. Just let us get on with it, please.”
*~~~*
It took more than a week to finish the next small room because neither spoke, at all. Nothing decorative occurred, just dull restoration to its original state. McGonagall was not impressed and took each aside during a different break.
“What’s happened?” the professor asked Neville. He shrugged in reply. McGonagall sighed. “That’s precisely what Draco said.” She talked to them together once the room was done. “Substandard effort from you both. You cannot remain part of the select group who will be restoring the Great Hall if you need to re-enact Dumbledore versus Grindelwald to work to potential.” McGonagall turned from one to other, like a bird, as Neville and Draco exchanged surprised glances then quickly ignored each other again. “You’re next room is the second floor girls’ lavatory, home of Moaning Myrtle and former entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Myrtle asked for Harry to return with Draco while we were filling in the chamber I’m afraid, Neville, so she won’t be too happy to see you. I originally planned on allocating that room to Mr Potter and Miss Weasley to help cure half of Myrtle’s obsession. However, since Harry snorted “Sod off” through his nose and you two require motivation…”
“Blasted Potter,” Draco muttered spitefully as they made their way up the staircase.
“Harry told me Moaning Myrtle holds marital aspirations in regards to you, but I forgot to ask who she is.”
“Pervy ghost of the Mudblood killed by Slytherin’s basilisk.”
Neville smacked Draco across the thigh with his wand.
“She’s a complete pervert! Hiding under the bubbles in the prefect bath-tub, ask Potter. Whip me with your wand again and you’ll have to wave it by wiggling your hips.”
“Fine.” Neville hexed Draco’s nose-hair instead. “Use the word Mudblood again and hair will be growing out of holes lower down.” He undid the rapid-grow hex before Draco’s nose hairs reached his lip. Draco had raised his wand at the same time and they once again crossed like swords. Draco didn’t say anything once he understood Neville’s intentions, simply lowered his wand. There was no animosity in his expression. Neville deliberately looked at the floor and kept quiet for the remaining work period, although he was often tempted to laugh aloud at Moaning Myrtle’s attempts to seduce Draco.
“He’ll run out of ways to tell her to bog off by the end of the day,” he boasted to Harry after sharing Draco’s most memorable comebacks. They laughed again. Neville chewed thoughtfully on his roast beef and lettuce roll before noticing Harry’s smugly amused smile from the corner of his eye. He could guess what caused it. “Shove off Harry.”
Harry’s smile broadened into a grin. “Your boyfriend’s watching you again. I think he’s jealous.” He waved across the room currently being used as a canteen. It was too wet to eat outside and the Great Hall was cordoned off while professors, the Ministry and members of the School Board researched the ceiling enchantment. Neville briefly resisted the urge to look in that direction. Draco’s scowling face turned down toward his food as their eyes met. “Mummy clearly approves of you,” Harry added into his pumpkin juice.
Neville’s startled gaze moved to the woman at Draco’s right and saw Narcissa’s subtle, unexpectedly shy smile. His chest expanded with seventy-five percent inhaled breath and twenty-five percent something else as he looked again at Draco, then back to Narcissa. He awkwardly returned her smile. Relief replaced Narcissa’s reticence and she turned to say something to Draco. Neville immediately stared at the plate balanced on his knees.
“This may be difficult believe, but you can trust him. He likes you,” Harry said the last three words as though he was learning to read. “Still hates my guts, but then I did steal his wand, make him lose his mother’s and on top of that, became master of the Elder Wand before he knew it was his. A series of events like that would probably tick Luna off. She believes you and Malfoy getting together to be more wonderful than finding a Crumpled-Horn Snorkack, highlight of her life apparently. If Ron was here, he’d be taking the piss.”
“We’re not … we’re barely civil to each other. You lot’ve all got us paired off and we aren’t even friends yet!” Neville refused to look up as he kicked enamel dust from one shoe.
“Yet,” Harry said.
“What’d be the point anyway? I can’t exactly bring him along anywhere you lot hang out. No-one’d ever speak to me again. ‘specially not Ron, Seamus, Ginny or Dean. Hermione’d be checking me for the Imperius Curse or something the entire time. Plus he’s about as interested in Moaning Myrtle as he is in me.” Neville looked up. Draco looked down. Neville looked down again. “Can’t stand to look at me,” he lamented.
“Can’t stand to be caught looking at you, more like. So-you’ve thought about this then?”
“No and there’s no point thinking about it.” Or talking about it with Harry. “Seen Luna?”
Harry nodded. “About two yards to the left of your heart’s desire. Hardly surprising you didn’t notice her orange, purple and green overalls, or the singing bandanna covering her hair. Oh look, she’s sitting with him now. That should help you find her.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Watching Draco Malfoy pine after the boy he’s bullied for seven years? You bet!”
Neville transfigured Harry’s turkey and avocado bun into a tortoise. It slowly poked its head out and seemed to scold Harry with its eyes. Harry picked it up with a laugh and examined it from all angles. “Apart from a few sesame seeds on its shell, it’s indistinguishable from those I saw at the zoo on my cousin Dudley’s eleventh birthday. The day I accidentally locked him in a snake enclosure after accidentally setting the python free, did I tell you about that?” Neville was too pre-occupied with this Malfoy business to listen. Harry noticed when Neville didn’t respond to a suggestion to show the turkey-roll tortoise to McGonagall and earn a belated Outstanding in her class. “If you decide to go ahead with Draco, give me the heads up. Then I can get Ron and Ginny used to the idea before they catch you snogging him at the Three Broomsticks, and cause a scene.”
Kissing-Neville never let his thoughts reach that point. He wished Harry hadn’t planted the idea so deep in his head. Thinking about it would no doubt lead to other thoughts that made Neville blush. He decided to get back to the girls’ lavatory early, in order to be composed and in control of certain mental imagery before Draco arrived.
“You’re keen,” Darco remarked. “Hoping to steal Myrtle off me?”
“Not my type,” Neville replied when he’d meant to say he couldn’t possibly come between them, or something of the sort. “Know anything about S-bends?”
“Only that I don’t want to spend my honeymoon in one.”
“I heard that,” Myrtle said snappily from her toilet and flushed herself away in a sulk. Neville and Draco smiled broadly at each other and then quickly looked away.
“Walls are done. Floor, ceiling, mirrors and cubicles up to us but leave the actual plumbing and loos for someone else?” Neville suggested.
“Sounds good.”
By unspoken agreement, they always began at opposite ends of a room and travelled in the same direction to maintain the maximum physical distance until it was no longer possible. Their silence wasn’t as dreadful or menacing as it used to be. Toward the end of the next day, Draco flushed all the lavatories and ran every tap that wasn’t broken to ensure Myrtle wasn’t eavesdropping. He tucked his wand up his sleeve and perched his bum against the edge of a hand basin.
“Did you kill anyone?” he asked sombrely.
“I tried not to.” Neville expected to be berated for this ambiguous response. Draco said nothing. “Did you?”
“You ask as if you haven’t already assumed I did.”
“I try not to assume anything.”
“Everyone else assumes I did.”
Neville sat on the closed lavatory opposite Draco’s basin and put his wand on the floor between his feet. “Did you?”
“I tried not to.” Draco’s voice held none of the anger or arrogance Neville had come to believe was his natural tone of speaking. “But then other people were either made to do it or suffered for my cowardice.”
“Sparing a life isn’t cowardice. Mercy isn’t a weakness.” Unless you’re a Death Eater, Neville supposed. But he wasn’t going to say that. He wasn’t Ron.
“I didn’t stop any of them though, did I?”
Neville had no idea how to respond. After a moment of staring at the floor between Draco’s expensive sneakers, he noticed Draco’s weight shift on to them. Neville’s head snapped up. “Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“Why?” Neville slowly stood.
“I don’t belong here and you know it. Whoever sent you to our house-whatever their plan was failed.”
They weren’t a couple, but Neville wondered if this hollow, aching helplessness was what breaking up felt like. He wanted to plead, find some way of talking Draco into staying. But then Draco would know, throw it back in Neville’s face and make him feel worthless like he’d always done, so easily.
“Fine. Naff off then and hide in a corner until everything goes away, except it doesn’t work Malfoy! Just when you think life can’t possibly get worse, some arsehole like you comes along…”
Draco’s features became a stone façade. Neville fought to take back years of juvenile conflict and erase them. It was too late. Draco slammed the remaining chunk of door on his way out. It broke away from its single hinge and fell to the floor. Neville continued to work alone. His spellwork hadn’t been this awful for ages and he soon gave up. Gossip had it that witches and wizards of all ages would sneak into the Room of All Seasons when the task ahead seemed impossible, including Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. After a moment’s reflection they felt able to continue. Neville concluded that even if the rumours were bollocks, the worst that could happen is he’d be reminded of how well he and Draco had been getting along. Of how close they stood in that doorway and shared a look of mutual pride…
Draco was already there. His white-blond hair was turned away from the door, head resting on his knees as he sat on the floor with his tailor-dressed back against the winter wall, hands locked on wrists at his ankles, shoulders trembling and then still, then trembling again in a pattern of emotional agony Neville knew only too well. He closed and locked the door without a sound then knelt before Draco. He hesitated before touching the back of one hand-the veins were clearly visible because Draco gripped his wrists so tightly. Draco rapidly moved both hands behind his bum, trying to disguise his startled sniff. Neville carefully put a hand on each of Draco’s knees.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s hardly your fault I’m an arsehole. Shame of his generation,” Draco scornfully quoted an old Daily Prophet headline.
“We found it horrifying enough to live at Hogwarts with a handful of Death Eaters. We never considered how it would be to return home for the holidays and be surrounded by them, with no common room or Professor McGonagall to provide refuge. Who can say I wouldn’t have made the same choices in those circumstances? Or worse ones?”
“The Killing Stick was mine and I didn’t know it. I could have killed them all before they left the castle. Become the next him.” Draco’s bitterness, rage and self-loathing somehow infected the enchanted walls and ceiling. The winter scene became sharper and more detailed as others paled and blurred. His features were sharp as he finally turned to face Neville. “It would have been worth it to be rid of them, not having a soul. I didn’t tell my aunt they’d found your beloved Potter because if he was the Chosen One he’d free my family of cursed Riddle. I didn’t care about Potter, Weasley, or that Mudblood Granger-or you. I still don’t. I don’t give a Knarl’s arse what you lot think of me, either.”
Neville didn’t believe that. “You’re more like us than him. Dumbledore made the mistake of trusting Grindelwald…”
“Becoming friends would be a mistake…”
“We can be more than friends.” Neville wanted the ceiling to become a funnel and suck him up into the whirling clouds.
“They were more than friends. Surely your gran read Reeter Skeeter’s book about Dumbledore. I’m surprised she didn’t warn you to keep away from that evil Malfoy boy.”
“I don’t take orders from Gran.”
“Since when?”
“Since she told me to keep away from that evil Malfoy boy,” Neville admitted with a hint of smile. “I’ll avoid you because you’re a prick, not because someone tells me to.”
Draco snort-laughed abruptly, and Neville laughed at the sound. “Even Weasley?” Draco asked with characteristic mischief.
Neville smiled dorkily as he nodded. Draco kissed him, a short, dry touching of lips before leaning his head back against the wall. He looked like he regretted it. Neville’s arms and knees shook as he placed his hands on the floor, either side of Draco, and leaned in to risk kissing him in return. He tried to make it soft yet straightforward. Let there be no mistaking his intention. Their mouths met and began to move slowly, similar to eating soft ice-cream from a cone at one-quarter speed. It was a tentative but serious kiss that sent every nerve in Neville’s body haywire. Draco’s knees opened as his feet slid forward along the floor. Neville crawled closer and their kiss continued. Their hands collided as they reached for each other’s back, shoulder, neck, or face. Neville hoped Draco found the experience as incredible as he did, while expecting him to pull away at any moment to tell Neville he’s a gullible idiot and a crap kisser with it. It seemed to go on forever at the same pressure and pace.
The sound of quietly groaning stone was followed by an organic sound familiar from the Herbology Greenhouses and Forbidden Forest. Neville didn’t want to stop kissing Draco to look. They were bound to fight again once the kissing stopped and Neville was sick of fighting. He wanted to enjoy and remember the warmth of his first proper kiss, this embrace, for as long as possible.
Increased noise in the corridor suggested the work day was over. So was the illusion that they were alone. They moved slowly apart, limbs stiff from holding the same position for so long. Draco kept the moment pure by kissing Neville quickly again, more seriously than the first time. Neville returned it, with the third and final being entirely mutual. A sharp wooden retort followed each brief meeting of lips. Cautiously, they moved their heads to look. The spring scenery was brightest now, with summer almost as clear, and a large elliptical table had grown in the centre of the room from the roots of the wall-trees. Three chairs had dropped from nowhere, like fruit. One landed on its side.
“Guess we better not shag in here,” Draco quipped huskily. Neville saw his awe reflected in Draco’s expression.
“Does this mean we’re on?” He asked carefully. “I mean, if Hogwarts approves…” Neville’s left hand travelled down Draco’s right arm until his fingers traced the back of his hand. Draco’s left fingers stroked the back of Neville’s neck and his eyes held Neville’s.
“Definitely on.” They kissed again, and a fourth chair landed with a clap. “How many chairs do you think they’ll need?”
Neville grinned and helped his boyfriend to his feet. Draco kept hold of his hand as they inspected the wooden furniture. Professors Flitwick, McGonagall and Slughorn opened the door to clear the room as they did every evening.
“Here they are, Narcissa. Nothing to worry about,” Flitwick said with a cautious smile in the direction of Neville and Draco’s joined hands as Narcissa found her way past Slughorn. Their fingers twitched doubtfully but then held fast. No-one commented on it.
McGonagall strode directly to the new furniture then inspected the walls and ceiling again. “Forget the lavatories. You will both report to the Great Hall before 7am tomorrow. Leave Augusta at home, Neville. We mustn’t upset established equilibriums.” Her hand caressed the table and the back of the nearest chair. “Gentlemen,” she nodded before leaving.
Flitwick smiled encouragingly and Slughorn declared “Spontaneous too. Not since Lily Evans…” before they followed Professor McGonagall.
“Come along Draco.” Nothing in Narcissa’s tone or expression revealed her thoughts.
“See you stupidly early tomorrow then,” Draco said with a tight smile and they reluctantly released each other’s hand.
“Yeah,” Neville replied docilely and wondered if they were already off.
*~~~*
Neville thought it best not to mention his afternoon of kissing Draco Malfoy to his gran. Or anyone else just yet, not until he knew they were definitely, definitely on. Doubt didn’t stop him going over every detail in moments of silence. During the night he imagined Draco telling Narcissa and Lucius that there’d been nothing, Neville was a stupid, fat, ugly, and useless nothing who had a moment of glory and was trying to cling to it by coming on to an infamous bad boy. ‘Saint something-highly-insulting’ he’d call him, in that same snide way he referred to Harry as ‘Saint Potter’. Neville berated himself for being so pathetic and gullible.
Then he remembered Draco’s expressive mood swings, the way ‘their’ room responded to their arguments and making up, Draco’s fingers staying linked with his in Narcissa’s presence. His wry comment about shagging-it was all real.
For one glorious afternoon, Draco Malfoy had been his boyfriend.
Part 2