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Chapter Text

Gryffindors were notorious for recklessness, for making poor decisions on impulse. It was a trait never mentioned in the Sorting Hat’s flattering song, just as it didn't sing of the passivity of Hufflepuffs, the arrogance of Ravenclaws, or the unique cruelty of Slytherins. 

Neville Longbottom was notorious for making poor decisions. Unlike others in his house, however, the decisions rarely came from recklessness. He thought out his every action meticulously, trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces. He sat in his bed, curtains closed around him, spending hours ruminating on all possible avenues for every small problem he faced. He would choose what he believed to be the most suitable action, and that action always seemed to be the wrong one. 

Three weeks into Neville’s fifth year, after being soundly humiliated every single Potions lesson, he decided he needed a tutor. 

Severus Snape had once been Neville’s worst fear. After he had seen a bogart in the form of Snape dressed in his grandmother’s vestments, much of the childlike fear had faded, but the gut deep anxiety of his presence in the potions classroom still made Neville’s hands shake as he chopped and sliced ingredients and made him nervous and forgetful. He also believes that his first three years of potions being spent paralyzed in fear had robbed him of an understanding of the fundamentals. 

Neville excelled at Herbology. Potions should have been easy for him as well; Professor Sprout had told him as much. 

“Of course, you do not need to be a potioneer to be a fantastic Herbologist, Mr. Longbottom,” she had said cheerfully, “Although I believe at least a solid foundation in the subject will bring your talents to new heights.” 

So, Neville decided to find a suitable tutor. 

There were several very good options in front of him. He didn't even have to think very hard to find them. Professor Sprout probably already had someone in mind; she was just waiting for Neville to ask. There was also Hermione Granger, one of the best in their year, who had already offered to tutor Neville in a variety of subjects since first year. 

Yet, for some reason Neville didn't fully understand, he rejected these options. 

He had half-hearted explanations he didn't completely believe. He told himself that he didn't want to bother Professor Sprout more than necessary. He had already spent enough time blubbering in her office over the years, and he wasn't even in her House. As for Hermione, she was busy enough studying for OWLs in difficult subjects as well as helping Harry Potter with his numerous problems each year. 

This year she was helping him run an illegal defense club, handily shielding him from those who called him a liar and lunatic, as well as calming down the fits of irritation and rage he was now prone to. No, Neville didn't want to burden her further with his trivial problems. Hermione had enough to deal with. 

So after holding back his tears and handing a vial of a murky black potion to a sneering Professor Snape, Neville purposely made a poor decision by quickly packing his belongings and trying to catch up with Theodore Nott. 

Neville couldn't remember a time he had ever spoken to Nott. Perhaps he may have said “Pardon me” as they reached for the same ingredient in Snape’s stores. Neville knew very little about the Slytherin boy. He knew Nott was quiet and studious. He knew that for all the praise Snape gave Malfoy and all the vitriol he spat at Hermione, Nott was actually the top of Potions in their year. 

Nott never seemed concerned with drawing attention to himself, but he was easy enough to spot among the throng of students walking through the dungeons as the day concluded. Nott was quite tall and lanky and his head could be seen above the majority of the crowd. Neville struggled to make his way towards Nott without rudely pushing other students out of the way. 

Neville had gone through a bit of a growth spurt over the summer and they wasn't as short or chubby as he had been. But his change in physique had not made him faster or less clumsy, and he squeaked out apologies as he tried to keep a gaggle of young Hufflepuffs from crashing into the wall as he passed. 

Out of breath, he finally fell into step next to Nott, who didn't seem to notice him. The boy’s lips were pursed, brows furrowed as if in deep thought. Neville felt a rush of anxiety flood him and he quickly spoke up before he lost his nerve completely. 

“Excuse me, Nott? May I have a word?” Neville said, a bit faster than he would have liked. 

Nott turned towards him. His eyes, which Neville noticed were nearly golden, were questioning. Nott nodded and wordlessly directed Neville to an empty alcove. They stood there saying nothing, Nott looking at him expectantly. Neville wiped his sweaty palms on his robes, hoping Nott wouldn't notice. 

“I was wondering if you would be willing to tutor me in, erm, Potions," Neville finally said. 

Nott appraised Neville then, his gaze studying Neville from top to bottom. Neville steadied his breathing, bidding himself not to break eye contact, to look much more confident than he felt. 

Nott smiled softly. He was very handsome, of course Neville noticed. His cheekbones and jaws were sharply defined, lips full, eyes large and shining. Nott’s hair was dark brown and tousled as if the boy spent a lot of time running his hands through it in thought. Neville felt about an inch tall next to him. He just wished the other boy would say something to break the tension before Neville ran away in shame. 

“Why ask me? Why not Granger?” Nott finally asked. 

“You're the best at it,” Neville said honestly, “Hermione is great at following the instructions in the textbook, but I can tell it comes to you naturally.” 

“Still, it would be easier for you to go to her. You are friends, are you not? You don't know me at all,” Nott replied, quirking an eyebrow. 

Neville knew he should just agree with Nott and leave. Instead, Neville found himself arguing his case. 

“Maybe so,” Neville said “but I want you. I mean, I would like you to tutor me. If you're willing. As you’ve seen I'm kind of hopeless. I don't think the class challenges you now, so…” 

“You think I would be open to the challenge of tutoring you,” Nott finished, adding “You think I have time for a challenge? It is OWLs year after all. I have my sights set on Outstandings in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. I'm sure you’re aware how difficult and time consuming that will be.” 

Neville faltered, his mouth opening to utter apologies for ever assuming he was worth anyone's time. 

Nott cut him off before he could speak. 

“I'm not saying no. Not yet, at least,” he said, “I just want to know something else.” 

“Sure!” Neville said quickly, “Anything!” 

“Anything?” Nott asked, smirking. 

Neville flushed, “Within reason.” he amended. 

Nott continued to smirk, his gaze intense. 

“Why do you want a tutor now?” he asked, “OWLs are this year. You just have to make it through another year and never have to take a class with Snape again. Surely you don't wish to take the advanced class? I know you hate our Professor as much as he despises you. You wish to spend more time in his classroom?” 

Neville shook his head. He would really wish to stay as far away from Snape as possible. 

“Then why?” Nott pressed. 

Neville’s answer came without thought. 

“Spite,” he said. 

Nott smiled warmly then, haughtiness disappearing from his features. He held out his hand for Neville to shake. 

“I will tutor you.” Nott said, “I am free most evenings. Perhaps we can meet twice weekly. You will have to find a place of course. Somewhere suitably discreet.” 

Neville nodded. It was maddeningly idiotic to him, but the climate of their school made it nearly impossible for Slytherins and Gryffindors to spend any length of time together without drawing the ire of their respective housemates. 

“Tuesdays and Thursdays after dinner? There's a tapestry in the seventh floor corridor of a man teaching ballet to trolls.” Neville said. 

It probably was another unwise decision to share Dumbledore’s Army meeting location to a Slytherin, but Neville reasoned that Nott wouldn't know of the other use of the room and it truly was the most discreet place at Hogwarts he could find. Nott looked a bit confused by the suggestion, but he nodded in acceptance. 

“I can pay, of course,” Neville said, realizing he should have led with that. 

Neville came from a very old and wealthy Wizarding family and could easily afford to pay for tutoring. Most of his pocket change went towards plants, anyway. Neville didn't know much about the Nott family, though he supposed they were wealthy as well. Nott shook his head. 

“You can tutor me in Herbology.” he said, eyes gleaming with mirth. 

As Nott started to walk away, Neville yelled after him “You’re one of the best in our year at Herbology, though!” 

Nott turned back, grinning. 

“How would you know that? We aren't even in the same class.” 

Neville sputtered, not wanting to admit he had studied the other boy for a while while working up the nerve to approach him. Nott just waved and left Neville alone in the alcove, wondering how on earth that interaction had actually gone in his favor. 

Chapter Text

Theodore was peacefully sitting alone in the Slytherin common room, reading a book and occasionally scribbling notes on a piece of parchment. He hoped to stay like this uninterrupted until dinner, but his hopes were cruelly dashed when he heard someone plop down in the seat next to him and sigh heavily. 

Theodore turned the page in his book, not looking up. It was unlikely, but maybe the unwelcome guest would realize he was busy and go off to pester another. It was not to be, as he then heard an even more dramatic sigh followed by a sharp kick to his shin. 

Theodore then lifted his head glaring darkly at Daphne Greengrass, who stared back at him doe-eyed and pouting. 

“What?” he snapped. 

“I simply cannot do this anymore!” Daphne said dramatically. 

“All the coursework not even a full month into term?” Theodore said, glancing back at his book, “I don't know if I can either, yet I soldier on.” 

Daphne then leaned over and slammed Theodore’s book closed, causing him to grimace at her incredulously. 

“You know that's not what I mean!” she hissed. 

She then took out her wand and performed a simple charm to prevent them from being overheard. 

“Can you please speak to Blaise?” she asked, “I'm sick of constantly going between the pair of you. It's exhausting.” 

Theodore moved to open his book again. 

“Blaise can speak to me if he wishes,” he said calmly, only to yelp when Daphne slapped his hand away from the book. 

“Just because you two don't want to snog anymore doesn't mean we can't all be friends!” Daphne said. 

Theodore narrowed his eyes. “You know it's not that simple.” 

He, in turn, sighed, leaning back into his chair. Maybe he wasn't being fair to Daphne. She was his best friend. Potentially his only friend at the moment. He knew her dramatic flair was just a mask for the genuine concern she felt for him. 

“It just hurts being around him, Daph,” he said wearily, “I thought it wouldn't anymore after the summer. But I can't even look at him without getting so angry.” 

“Maybe it will be difficult at first, but you can’t be friends again if you avoid one another.” 

Theodore wasn't sure if he wanted to be friends with Blaise again. He was fairly certain his romantic feelings for Blaise had now faded, but was unsure if his resentment about how things had ended ever would. 

He, Daphne, and Blaise had become fast friends in their first year of Hogwarts. The three of them had no desire to suck up to Draco Malfoy and all seemed to embody the ambition of a true Slytherin. Theodore wished to be an unspeakable and Daphne and Blaise both had lofty political aims. Their friendship had been simple and pleasurable until the previous year when The Yule Ball was announced. 

Theodore and Blaise had spent over a week sniping at each other about who would ask Daphne to the ball. Blaise had won, ever charismatic, and Theodore had asked Tracey Davis. 

Somehow, out on the grounds during the ball dressed in their finest, the two boys had discovered simultaneously that they hadn't been fighting because they had feelings for Daphne, but because they had feelings for each other. They had ended up snogging there on the ground, partly in a bush. Clumsy and quite uncomfortable, but to Theodore it was a revelation. 

Daphne had known all along, of course. One of her many talents was knowing everything about everyone, especially her closest friends. 

Everything was wonderful for months. The sky seemed brighter and smiles came easily to Theodore. He was foolish to believe that he had forever with Blaise; that the strong foundation of their friendship would make for a lasting relationship. Right before the end of term, when the whole school was still reeling after the death of Cedric Diggory, Blaise had crawled into Theodore’s bed late one night, eyes gleaming with tears. 

“Mother wrote to me today,” Blaise had said, “She wants to spend the summer meeting with prominent families on the continent. Her hopes are that she will secure a betrothal for me.” 

Theodore had immediately pulled Blaise close to him and started whispering soothing words, promising that they would find a way to prevent any marriage Blaise didn't want. They would find a way to be together. 

Blaise had surprised Theodore by breaking away, spilling excuses about his duty to his family. He said he needed to put his own feelings aside and do what was expected of him. Theodore knew that Blaise wasn't the type of person to marry a woman and keep a male lover. Theodore was also not the type of person who would allow himself to be treated as a dirty secret. 

He had just thought that maybe Blaise would be willing to fight for him. Theodore would fight for Blaise if put in the same position. Blaise had not even asked for a final night together; he had simply returned to his own bed, leaving Theodore wrecked and hollow. 

Yes, Theodore doubted very seriously that he could ever have a normal friendship with Blaise again. He hated that he was hurting Daphne though. Didn't she deserve at least a small attempt from him? 

“I'm willing to try to talk to him,” Theodore finally said, “I can't promise anything though. I won't be offended if you feel the need to choose between us.” 

She would choose Blaise, of course. People didn't choose Theodore. Well, except for Neville Longbottom, perhaps, and hadn't that been a surprise?

Daphne glared at him, looking as if she would strike him. 

“Don't be daft,” she said sharply. “Listen, let's all go down by the lake after dinner. We can work on our homework. No expectations or pressure.” 

Theodore quickly shook his head. It was Tuesday, his first meeting with Longbottom. 

“Can’t tonight. I'm tutoring someone.”

Daphne frowned. “Who?” 

“My cousin,” Theodore lied quickly, “Lorelei Selwyn, the first year Ravenclaw. She's rather precocious and my uncle asked me to help her move ahead.” 

It wasn’t a complete lie. Lorelei Selwyn was Theodore’s cousin, the daughter of his mother’s older brother, but he definitely wasn't tutoring her. He didn't really know her at all and doubted she would give him any regard whatsoever. To her family, Theodore’s father was scum and his blood in Theodore’s veins destroyed any chance of any goodness he could have gotten from his mother. Lorelei would have been told to steer clear of him. 

Daphne looked doubtful, but thankfully didn't press the subject, instead plucking Theodore’s book off the table and leafing through it. If the tutoring sessions with Longbottom continued, he would eventually have to come clean. He couldn't keep anything from Daphne for very long, and idly he wondered what type of reaction she would have. Right now, Theodore liked having a small secret to himself. 

It was strange to admit, but he found Longbottom charming, standing in that alcove breathing heavily and saying “I want you.” and refusing to back down. Theodore had never seen the boy so determined. He wasn't sure he had seen him determined at all. 

And when Longbottom had said his motivation was spite… Well, Theodore had more spite than he knew what to do with these days. 

“This isn't even revision,” Daphne complained, holding up the book, “I can't believe you’re reading poetry like some heartsick fool.” 

Theodore grabbed his copy of Leaves of Grass back from her with an exasperated huff. “It’s a good book.” he said defensively. 

“Sure,” Daphne said airly. 

She then looked at him, eyes glinting with mischief. 

“One of my cousins once told me that the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else,” Daphne began, her words immediately making Theodore stand and make his way out of the common room. 

Daphne skipped after him, lacing her arm through his. 

“I know of a few boys who might be appealing to you. Terry Boot in Ravenclaw is rather attractive, don't you think?” 

“I don't need matchmaking, Daphne. I'm fine. I'm very busy.” 

They made their way out of the common room and into the corridor, joining the students bustling towards the Great Hall for dinner. 

“Everyone is busy, Theo. Doesn't mean you shouldn't set aside time for leisure.”

“I’m done talking about this.” 

“Fine,” Daphne said, patting his arm, “Let me know if you change your mind. I do hope there's cottage pie tonight.” 

A little later, Theodore stood studying the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. It was a strange meeting place. Theodore didn't see any empty classrooms nearby. He supposed there may be a secret passageway nearby. As he waited for Longbottom, Theodore grew nervous. Was this all a setup for a prank? Was Longbottom even the type to prank someone? Probably not. 

He shifted on his feet, impatient. He had left dinner early. He had even seen Longbottom still eating at the Gryffindor table when he had left. Theodore had just had enough of Daphne making coy comments in his ear about the rumors she had heard about their male classmates. 

“I've even heard things about one of The Weasley twins,” she had said, “You'd be disowned and most likely shunned by the whole house, but it would be a lark, wouldn't it?” 

“You'd shun me as well?” he teased. 

“Of course not,” she replied sweetly before stealing a bite of cottage pie directly from his plate. 

Theodore looked away from the tapestry and spotted Longbottom barreling down the corridor towards him. The boy slid to a stop, panting, and Theodore took a moment to gaze at his flushed cheeks that looked like two apples that he might want to take a bite out of…

Theodore shook himself out of that line of thought. Perhaps Daphne was right and he needed to find a suitable snogging partner. 

“Sorry,” Longbottom wheezed, “I hope I didn't keep you waiting.” 

“Not at all.” Theodore said breezily, “I assume we’re not doing potions out the middle of the corridor though?” 

“Of course not,” Longbottom said sheepishly, face growing redder. 

Theodore wondered how he was going to manage to teach his new student a thing if the boy was going to flush and falter after everything he said. Longbottom began pacing down the corridor, mouthing something to himself. Theodore watched him curiously and gasped a bit in surprise when a large door appeared on the opposite wall after the third repetition. 

Longbottom ushered Theodore inside a fully outfitted potions lab. There were cauldrons of various sizes and materials and walls filled with ingredients. It wasn't as expansive as Snape’s own stores, but it was perfectly adequate for most potions students. Theodore wasn't sure what kind of meeting place Longbottom would find, but he didn't expect it to be this impressive. 

“Erm, this is the Room of Requirement,” Longbottom said, “It can make any kind of room you ask for so I asked for a potions lab.” 

Theodore looked around in wonder. It could make any type of room? Theodore smiled at the idea of having a peaceful place to come to when he wished to be alone. He had rejected Neville Longbottom’s offer of payment, but the shy boy had given him something worth even more than galleons. 

Theodore turned to Longbottom and gave him a small smile. “It will do very nicely. Thank you.” 

They stood there for a moment, awkwardly, before Theodore decided to take the lead. 

“I figured before you brew anything at all, we could work on your ingredient preparation. Your slicing in particular is abysmal.” Theodore said, going to the shelves to select a small variety of ingredients to set in front of Longbottom who was shakily removing his tools from his bag. 

Theodore then clasped his hands around Longbottom’s trembling ones, feeling a dip in his stomach. Longbottom looked like he might pass out. 

“You can't prepare anything properly with your hands shaking like that,” Theodore said, his voice gentle. “I’m not Professor Snape. I'm not going to scream at you even if you blow us both up. Please just relax and try to breathe.” 

Theodore’s housemate Pansy Parkinson was prone to wailing fits of anxiety. Somehow, Theodore had been appointed as the one to bring her out of these episodes, even though they weren't even friendly outside of the time Theodore spent rubbing reassuring circles on the girl’s back, encouraging her to breathe. 

Longbottom gave a long shuddering breath, then another, until his breathing steadied completely. Theodore removed his hands and noted the Longbottom’s were now steady. 

“Thank you, Nott,” Longbottom said, not meeting his eyes. 

“You can call me Theo,” Theodore decided, “Now, I want you to slice these caterpillars lengthwise into thin equal segments.” 

“Okay,” Longbottom said, selecting a knife and beginning to work. 

Theodore noticed that Longbottom’s technique was fine, now that his hands weren't trembling. Longbottom glanced up at Theodore occasionally as he worked, a look of trepidation on his face, but Theodore just nodded and the boy returned to his work. Theodore knew that Longbottom’s issues in potions went far beyond ingredient preparation, but he wondered how successful he would be if was just a bit more confident. He had a feeling that Longbottom would probably fall apart immediately when Professor Snape was in the room, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to rush over to calm the boy in a classroom full of people. 

Theodore would go to the library before their next meeting and find some books on relaxation techniques. Maybe he could try to teach those as well. Theodore noticed that the caterpillars had all been sliced and looked very nice. Not quite as nearly as if done by his own hands, but a remarkable improvement. 

“You did a nice job,” he said. 

Longbottom seemed to glow under the small bit of praise. 

“Thanks. Erm, Neville.” he said. 

“Neville is your name,” Theodore said, “I’m Theo.” 

Longbottom flushed at that. “I mean you can call me Neville. I just realized I didn't… that was really rude.” 

“It’s fine,” Theodore said, “Crush that bicon horn for me, will you, Neville?” 

Neville reached for the mortar and pestle, his face a deep scarlet. Theodore decided then that tutoring was very fun.  

Chapter Text

“Stupefy!” Ginny shouted. 

Neville clumsily spun away from the spell, managing to scantly avoid its impact. He took a deep breath, adjusted his posture and with full concentration cast the stunning charm towards Ginny. His wand produced a red light that only made it halfway towards Ginny before sputtering out. Ginny gave him a sympathetic look. 

“I know you're gonna get it, Nev!” she said cheerfully, “Just gotta keep on!” 

It was the third meeting of Dumbledore’s Army and Neville had spent most of it crash landing into cushions as Ginny deftly trounced him at stunning charms. His dodging skills had improved. Ginny hadn't managed to land the spell on him the last five times she had cast it. But Neville had not been able to hit Ginny even once. His most successful attempt at casting the spell had been expertly swerved.

Neville looked down at his wand, glaring. He never went to Ollivander’s to choose his own wand. He had been given his father’s old wand, a great honor his Gran has assured him. It didn't feel like much of an honor when he struggled to cast simple spells with it. He couldn't even completely blame his wand for his struggles, though. Ginny’s wand had once belonged to her uncle Fabian and she didn't seem to struggle at all. 

Harry’s voice broke out over the crowd. “Good work tonight, everyone! Keep your eye on your coin for the next meeting!” 

Ginny sidled up next to Neville as he gathered his bag. “Wanna go down to the kitchens before curfew?” she asked, “Luna wants to interview the house-elves.” 

“Did Hermione recruit Luna to SPEW?” 

“Nah, I don't think so. She wants to ask if any of the elves in the kitchens know Saucy the Ship Elf.” 

Neville sputtered. “Who?” 

“A notorious elf who sails the seven seas, stealing kitchen utensils everywhere he roams,” came Luna’s dreamy voice from behind him. Neville looked at Ginny questioningly and was met with a bemused smile and a shrug. 

Neville’s Transfiguration essay was most definitely not up to snuff, but he couldn't resist the temptation to have a snack and spend a little more time with his friends, even if he lost some sleep in exchange. Between tutoring sessions with Theo and defense lessons with the DA, Neville had never worked harder at his academics. He just wished the results were more noticable. 

Neville had yet to cause any explosions in his potions tutoring sessions, and Theo was patient and generous with his praise. He was improving steadily, but it didn't seem to matter at all when he was Snape’s presence. Theo had given him a book of breathing exercises to keep himself calm, which was helpful, but when he tried to use them during class Snape would swoop over to him to ask why he was sitting there like a useless lump. 

Neville was steadily improving with his defense spells as well. Stupefy had been particularly difficult, but it was the most trouble he had so far. Privately, he liked the idea of learning a really good spell and teaching it to Theo. It was the least he could do, considering that his offers of payment had been rejected and Theo really had no use for Herbology tutelage. Neville knew, though, any of the spells he had succeeded with so far were ones Theo was probably already proficient in. 

Theodore Nott was much kinder than Neville thought he would be. He knew that he wasn't a raging bully like Malfoy and his band of cronies, but Theo always had seemed aloof. He had surprised Neville by never seeming to become irritated by Neville’s incompetence and patiently walking him through the steps he struggled with until he was successful. 

Theo did tease Neville quite often, seemingly relishing any opportunity to catch him off guard and make him blush and stammer. It was friendly though, nothing like cruel things other students had taunted him with over the years. 

It was quite a long walk from the seventh floor corridor to the kitchen in the dungeons and Neville realized with a start he had already spent a good portion of it completely spaced out, recalling how Theo had called his Snore-b-gone potion “practically perfect”. He felt a bit foolish being so happy about it, after all it was a potion brewed in the third year class, but it was the first time someone had something so nice to say about something he had brewed. 

“What do you think, Neville?” Luna asked. Neville snapped abruptly out of his own thoughts and looked over at Luna who was gazing at him curiously. He looked over at Ginny who wore a wide grin that indicated that she would absolutely not be bailing Neville out of this one. 

“Pardon?” he asked weakly. 

Luckily enough for him, Luna didn't seem phased at all and immediately repeated her question. “Some people think Saucy the Ship Elf is a title passed on to the most successful pirate elves. Others say every legend of Saucy refers to the same elf.” 

“Oh,” Neville said, “Well, house elves can live a really long time. One of my Gran’s friends has an elf that she claims is over 500 years old. It could definitely be the same elf.” 

Luna made a thoughtful noise. “Maybe one day I could meet that elf. An elf that old has probably run into Saucy at some point.” 

When their little group reached the painting hiding the entrance to the kitchens, Luna paused to pull a derby cap from her messenger bag and placed it on her head. “It’s important to look professional.” she told her friends solemnly, before tickling the pear. The painting slid away and they entered the warm inviting kitchen only to be immediately swamped by elves, all clamoring to offer assistance. 

Luna began conducting her interviews while Ginny and Neville sat in a cozy corner, eating the comically large ice cream sundaes that were very nearly shoved upon them. 

“You seem thoughtful.” Ginny remarked. Apropos of nothing, she dipped her finger in the dollop of whipped cream on her sundae and plopped it on his nose. 

Neville frowned at her, trying his best to look like a wounded puppy. “Just have a lot on my mind, really. Nothing bad even. I just want to do well on my OWLs.” 

“It’s only October. Don't overdo it. It's okay to take a break from it, you know.” 

Neville nodded, wiping the whipped cream from his nose with the sleeve of his robes. “It's just… I know I'm doing better. Making progress. But it's like no matter how hard I work, I just lag behind everyone.” 

Ginny patted his shoulder. “I've definitely noticed that you're getting a lot better with your spells. You may not have noticed, but almost everyone was struggling with stunning tonight. You just were unlucky enough to pair up with a prodigy.” She flipped her long red hair playfully. 

Neville definitely hadn't noticed how anyone besides him and Ginny were faring in the lesson. He started to feel ashamed of how he was only worrying about himself. He hoped Ginny didn't think he was too self absorbed. 

“Stop that!” Ginny snapped, startling Neville so badly that he nearly dropped his bowl. 

“Wha-?”

“Stop all that thinky-brain stuff that makes you feel bad. We’re here to eat ice cream and gossip.” 

“And drag Luna out of here when she works the house elves up too much.” Neville added. 

Luna was scribbling on her notepad as a house elf tugged her ears and nearly wailed “Weedles is promising she has never heard of this Saucy. Weedles would never be around a house elf that steals. It would be the greatest dishonor!” 

Ginny giggled into her hand. “I can't believe it's already October and I haven't asked: how's your Potter thing?” 

The Potter thing, naturally, referred to Neville’s ridiculous and embarrassing crush on Harry Potter. It began in his first year, when the scrawny boy grinned merrily at Neville, holding out a remembrall that he had chased Draco Malfoy on a broomstick to retrieve for him. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for Neville. Ginny and Neville had formed their friendship based on their mutual infatuation with Harry. Most would probably think that was odd, but it seemed natural enough to bond over something they both appreciated. Besides, it's not as if they were competing for his affections. 

“I have to talk to someone about it,” Ginny had remarked once. “I tried writing about it in my diary and it possessed me.” 

Last year, Ginny suggested they change their discussions about the Potter thing from their usual gushing about every aspect of his appearance and personality to trying to move on from their feelings. “We both are fantastic catches,” she had said, “We shouldn't waste all our time getting soppy over someone who makes us feel invisible.” 

Ginny was right, as she usually was. Neville had just hated her timing, as the previous year offered prime material for anyone harboring feelings for Harry Potter. He had fought a Hungarian Horntail! He had gotten to see him in a swimsuit! And he couldn't even mention it to Ginny without her tutting at him. Spoilsport. 

“My Potter thing is done and dusted, I think.” Neville said honestly. He had worried about Harry over the summer. He knew he was probably feeling downright wretched after Cedric died. Then when Neville saw Harry on the Hogwarts Express, his stomach hadn't flipped like it usually did. For weeks, he had expected to make eye contact with Harry and for all those dormant feelings to rush back, but it never happened. 

“That's fantastic, Neville!” Ginny praised, her smile overtaking her whole face. “I knew we could do it! I've got a boyfriend and now we just need to find one for you.” 

Neville flushed. “I don't think I need a boyfriend.” 

“Trust me,” Ginny said, leaning in conspiraciously, “You gotta at least have a snog. You have no idea what you're missing.” 

“I’m fine!” Neville protested as he wiggled away from her. “I just told you I'm trying to focus on school!” 

“But you could have study dates! It would be so cute, Nev.” she said. Neville knew his face was turning bright red as the term “study date” brought his tutoring sessions with Theo to mind. Which was frankly ridiculous. Theo being nice didn't mean he would ever want… 

Yeah, forget it. Don't even finish that thought. 

“I've heard Terry Boot’s into blokes. You know him, right? Ravenclaw. In the DA. One of Michael’s best mates. Oh! Double dates!” 

Neville didn't really know Terry Boot at all. He wasn't ugly or anything, but Neville didn't find him attractive either. Not that he could afford to be picky. 

“He's nice enough.” Ginny went on, “Can be a bit condescending. Typical Ravenclaw superiority complex. Michael suffers from it as well.” There was a flash of realization in her eyes. “Oh Merlin, I've just realized Terry reminds me of Percy. I take it all back, please don't snog him, Neville!” 

Neville burst out laughing. “I really wasn't intending to!” 

Ginny glanced at her watch and grimaced. “We better grab Luna if we don't wanna run to make curfew.” They handed off their bowls to a house elf who bowed at them profusely and had to each take one of Luna’s arms to drag her away from some elf she was interrogating. 

The little group raced through the dungeons, not even trying to have a conversation. Right before they reached the stairs, Neville spotted Theodore Nott strolling languidly in the opposite direction. When he made eye contact with Neville, his broody expression turned into a warm smile. Neville smiled back and hurried on, now worried that his smile had been weird or creepy. Were his eyes bugging out of his head? He realized that it was the first time that Theo had acknowledged him publicly, even though they had been basically alone. Ginny and Luna hadn’t seemed to notice at all. 

Neville’s face was hot and his stomach was doing that flippy thing. He realized, with mounting horror, that he was probably doomed. Absolutely doomed. 

Chapter Text

This is nice,” Daphne said for the third time. 

Theodore knew it was the third time, because after the second he had begun scratching tally marks on the corner of his parchment. Theodore, Blaise, and Daphne were sprawled out on a thick emerald-green blanket, doing their homework in front of the lake. They used to spend many afternoons this way, taking advantage of any time the Scottish weather was bearable. 

Theodore supposed that Daphne thought if the three of them did something “normal”, they'd fall back into an easy camaraderie. Did she feel how heavy the space was? Did Blaise? Daphne sat between him and Blaise, her body meant to block any barbs they might throw at one another. 

Blaise hadn't said much, focused on his essay, and only offered an occasional “hm”. 

“He really misses you,” Daphne had said. Theodore thought that was either wishful thinking or an outright lie. 

Still, Theodore said he would try. So, he sat with his friends and tried to piece together a decent essay from the scraps of rubbish his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook offered. The previous Professor may have been an imposter, but at least Theodore had learned something from him. Now he had to write inane essays about the best ways to run from conflict. 

“Pity the OWL examiners aren't going to care that we haven't lifted our wands in class all year,” Daphne huffed, rolling up her parchment. 

“I've heard Saint Potter and his gang have some kind of defense practice going on,” Blaise said. 

Saint Potter. Theodore snorted. Blaise had been spending more time with Draco Malfoy and it showed. 

“Well, it's not like we'd be welcome guests if they were doing anything like that,” Daphne said. 

Theodore hadn't heard anything about any secret defense practice groups. He wondered if Neville was a member if it even existed. He could see it being a rumor Draco started to try to get his rival in trouble with Umbridge. 

Blaise shook his head. “I wouldn't voluntarily spend time with that lot. I can pass my defense OWL on my own.” 

Theodore felt a bristle of defensiveness at that. Why? Theodore didn't like Gryffindors. Never had. It didn't even have anything to do with blood purity. It was the unearned confidence and the pathological attention-seeking. The only reason he liked Neville was that he was as decidedly un-Gryffindor as someone sorted into that house could be. Unlike Neville's housemates, Theodore saw that as a credit rather than a deficit. 

Blaise was still speaking. “I can't imagine learning much of anything while everyone kisses Potter's robes and Granger regurgitates the textbook.” Theodore looked at Blaise's face, then, as he had been avoiding doing so. Over the summer, the bit of baby fat still left on his face had dissipated, leaving only sharp angles behind. 

“Longbottom would land us all in Saint Mungos, I'm sure,” Daphne joked. Theodore stiffened. 

Blaise laughed. “It’s a right shock he hasn't managed to blow up any cauldrons so far this term. It's only a matter of time though. The way he trembles when Professor Snape walks by. He's too old to be acting like that.” Theodore began rolling up his parchment, essay still unfinished, suddenly desperate to be anywhere else.  

Daphne looked at Theodore, concern evident in her gaze. Neville would understand if Theodore didn't defend him openly, right? It's not like these types of jokes were unfamiliar to Theodore. He had undoubtedly laughed along with his friends about overflowing cauldrons and misfired spells. But now Theodore just thought of Neville's trembling hands, his jaw tight in determination as he crushed boysenberries. 

“I've just realized, erm,” Theodore hastily packed away his book and parchment, “I'm going to the library. Stuff due for Runes.” 

A decent enough excuse. Neither Blaise nor Daphne took Ancient Runes. 

“It's almost dinner!” Daphne protested. 

“Not hungry,” Theodore lied. 

He made his way to the seventh-floor corridor. After their first tutoring session, Neville had told him how to access the Room so whoever got there first could just wait within. The potions lab Neville had conjured up was more than adequate, but over the past few weeks, Theodore had expanded upon it, marveling at how the Room provided for him at the speed of his thoughts. 

The Room was now split in two, the potions lab was largely unchanged, but Theodore had added a sitting area with two plush armchairs, a bookshelf filled with various titles that the Room seemed to think Theo would be interested in, and even an old gramophone with a selection of records both magical and muggle in origin. 

Theodore looked through the records first, eventually selecting Mooncalf Sonatas, dreamy piano tunes accompanied by the musical lowing of mooncalves. He sat in the armchair, intent on finishing his essay, but his thoughts would not connect with his quill. Frustrated, he got to his feet and went to the potions lab, hoping that brewing something would calm his frayed nerves. 

He leafed through a book of medicinal potions and found An Elixir to Reduce Anxiety. Not as potent as a calming draught, most likely perfect to get Neville through Double Potions. Theodore willed himself to get lost in the preparation of ingredients, the heat of the cauldron forcing him to shed his outer robes. As he stirred in the ginger, so thin it was nearly transparent, he wondered if this counted as penance. Smoke tickled his nose and he moved away from the cauldron, coughing. 

Neville entered as Theodore was putting the potion into the vials. Neville smiled shyly in greeting, as he usually did, his cheeks flushed in exertion. He pulled a stool next to Theodore's and looked curiously at the potion. 

“It's for you,” Theodore said, “Snape won't let you alone, so it's an anxiety relief elixir. Just enough to clear your mind and help you focus.” 

Neville's eyes widened. “Thank you,” he said, ‘’I, well, I don't know how to repay you for this. Any of it.” Theodore didn't deserve the way Neville looked at him then, awe in his pale blue eyes. 

“We're friends, aren't we?” Theodore replied smoothly, but his heart lurched. Was he really that great of a friend? Listening to Neville being mocked and saying nothing? 

Neville looked a bit unsure but nodded. 

While Neville crushed peppermints with a deft hand, Theodore went back to the gramophone and selected one whose cover depicted a bright-eyed muggle ingenue. 

“Got no diamonds, 

Got no pearls,

But I still think I'm a lucky girl. 

I've got the sun in the morning and the moon at night!” 

Theodore made his way back over to Neville, taking his Umbridge essay with him. Neville worked quietly while Theodore peppered his parchment with the type of bullshit that he was sure Umbridge would appreciate. 

“Still have to do that one,” Neville said. He was eying Theodore's parchment, lips pursed. Neville's honey-blonde hair was slicked to his forehead with sweat as the heat of his cauldron steadily increased. 

“Waste of time,” Theodore lamented. 

“Useless. I just can't understand how we got stuck with such a horrible teacher now. With OWLs and…” 

“Everything else,” Theodore finished. War was coming soon, certainly. They had never spoken of it before. 

“You believe?” Neville asked, voice quiet. He lowered the flame, glancing at his textbook before stirring the potion in alternating clockwise and counterclockwise directions as it directed. 

“Of course,” Theodore said. The intense look in Neville's eyes made him want to look away. 

Theodore's father had spent many nights away that summer, reporting to his returned master certainly. It had been nice, at first, to spend more time away from his father's ever-watchful eyes. But more often than not, his father would return from these clandestine meetings in poor temper, sometimes rousing Theodore from his sleep in the early hours of the morning to take out his frustrations. 

“The Dark Lord is pleased I have produced a son for him,” Yorrick Nott had told his son. “Perhaps I will introduce you.” 

When he had returned to school, Draco had begun treating Theodore as a comrade in arms, advances he had rebuffed. Theodore didn't even discuss the coming war with Daphne, whose family had expertly avoided the first war and would probably be able to stay out of it again. He wondered if the Greengrass family's purported neutrality could extend to keeping him out of the war too. Hide him away. 

Neville, mercifully, just nodded solemnly and returned to the potion, now a perfect cherry red. When Neville offered a vial for Theodore to examine, he unstoppered it and drank it down, his chest and sinuses filling with warmth. Neville giggled as smoke spewed from Theodore's ears. 

‘“I think that if I had a cold, you would have just cured it,” Theodore said. 

He helped Neville clean up his workstation before returning to the gramophone, the other boy following tentatively behind him. Theodore opted to restart the record from before and plopped down in an armchair. Neville looked momentarily unsure but then sat in the other chair, pulling out his schoolwork. 

They didn't speak for awhile, but their silence wasn't the oppressive kind Theodore had felt by the lake. He didn't feel compelled to say anything and took comfort in the act of just existing alongside another. 

Theodore glanced over at Neville, who was tapping his quill against his parchment and biting his lip. “Halloween's coming up,” he said conversationally. 

“Oh yeah,” Neville said, looking up, ‘’I wonder what strange event we'll get this year. Another troll in the dungeon?” 

“I contend with trolls in the dungeons daily,” Theodore said sardonically, causing Neville to gasp out in laughter. 

Neville then made a strangled sort of noise at his watch “Blimey,” he said, “it's nearly curfew. I'm close by but you're so far.” 

“I ought to put a clock in here,” Theodore said, hurrying to pack his belongings. 

“This was nice,” Neville said, a bit shyly as they approached the door. They usually took turns leaving, waiting so they wouldn't be spotted. Tonight they left as one. The corridor was empty. 

“Yeah,” Theodore agreed, “Thursday?” 

“Of course.” 

Theodore had then run down to the dungeons. He made it back slightly late, but thankfully no patrolling prefects had spotted him. He headed up to his dormitory and when he pulled back his curtains he found a bundle wrapped with cloth on his bed. He touched it, noting that the cloth had been charmed to stay warm. Within it was a roast beef sandwich, Theodore's favorite. He glanced behind him and met Blaise's eyes. Blaise looked embarrassed and quickly looked away. Eating in bed was uncouth, but Theodore was starving. He wondered how long Blaise had waited for him to discover the sandwich. Or if he had waited at all. Maybe Daphne had made it and asked Blaise to deliver it. 

No, Theodore knew that was wrong. It had assuredly been Blaise who had cut the bread unevenly and applied a little too much horseradish. If this had occurred a month earlier, Theodore's heart would have stirred at the idea of rekindling what was lost. He may even had waited until his housemates were sleeping and pulled at Blaise's bed curtains, questioningly. But now, he just felt a quiet kind of acceptance that his relationship with Blaise was moving on to something different. Not the close friendship they had enjoyed as children or the fledgling first love of the year prior, but something new. 

He fell asleep wondering what kinds of sandwiches Neville Longbottom preferred.  

Chapter Text

Terry Boot's eyes were too close together. His nose was shaped a bit like a mushroom and had a zit on the tip. His mouth was moving, but Neville wasn't processing any words, only fixating on how Terry's forehead was way too long. Oily, as well. 

Ginny had decided that comparing Terry to Percy was “a bit unfair”. “Terry's not a prat like Percy. He's a good bloke. You ought to get to know him.”. 

Thus, after a fair amount of needling, Neville sat with Terry, Ginny, and Michael in a corner booth at The Three Broomsticks. The highlight of the outing so far had been, surprisingly, when Neville had missed his mouth when taking a sip of Butterbeer and dribbled it down his front. The good part of that was how effortless casting a drying charm had been. It was an easy spell, Neville knew, but he couldn't help feeling chuffed. 

“The Bats don't have a chance now that Richards is out for the season,’’ Terry said. 

“Their reserve Seeker is decent,” Ginny pointed out, “but The Tornados will probably pull ahead now.” 

“Don't say that in front of your brother,” Michael said, chuckling. 

“He's a git,” Ginny said, without heat. 

“Which team do you support, Neville?” Michael asked. 

Quidditch. Merlin damned Quidditch. Neville's main interest in the game had stemmed from watching Harry on his broom, but now that his infatuation had snuffed out like a candle so had his desire to watch or even speak of Quidditch. 

“Erm, Appleby Arrows?” Neville said, naming the first team that popped into his mind. 

“Solid,” Terry said, drawing nods from Michael and a smile and wink from Ginny. 

Did she think this was going well? Sure, it wasn't a disaster. He just didn't seem to have anything in common with Terry Boot, besides a shared attraction to men. Neville blinked and spared a look at Terry. He looked like a normal boy again now that Neville wasn't searching his face obsessively for faults. 

“Shall we stroll?” Ginny asked once their butterbeer had all been drained. 

“Sounds lovely,” Michael said. He stood and offered his arm with a facetious “m'lady”. 

The small group left the pub and convened on the street. Ginny and Michael walked ahead, huddled close and laughing. Terry fell into step with Neville. 

“I just wanted to say,” Terry started, “you've made a remarkable improvement in the DA. We all notice, you know. You should be proud.” 

Neville felt his cheeks warm. The praise felt nice, but nothing like Theo's. “Thank you. You're doing well, too,” he replied. 

Truthfully, Neville had no idea how Terry Boot was doing in the DA. He was so self-focused during the meetings that the people around him were nothing more than shadows. 

Terry shrugged “I think I'll scrape by with an Exceeds Expectations on the OWL. It's way better than I could hope for with just Umbridge as a teacher. You've got real talent, though. You'll probably get an O.” 

Neville balked at that. Nobody thought he was going to get an O in anything but Herbology. 

Terry smiled softly at Neville's incredulous expression. “I mean it, y'know”. 

“Thank you. I'm sure you'll do better than you think.” 

Just then, up ahead, Neville spotted Theodore Nott walking towards them, arms linked with Daphne Greengrass, a blonde Slytherin girl with pointed features who always seemed to be wearing an elaborate hairband. Today she was wearing purple silk robes that looked like they cost a small fortune. They were bent close in conversation and Greengrass seemed a bit flushed as though she was trying very hard to convince Theo of something. 

As the two pairs passed, Theo met Neville's eyes and smiled. Neville smiled back and nodded, his heart beating into his ears. Theo had just acknowledged him publicly. Greengrass pulled at Theo's robes, pulling him back into their conversation. Neville strained his ears but could only make out the hiss of Greengrass's whisper as they passed by. 

“You know Nott?” Terry asked. 

“Oh,” Neville said awkwardly “Kind of, I guess.” 

“We're friends, aren't we?” 

The memory made Neville's stomach flip. 

Terry looked a bit impressed. “He's a bit aloof, yeah?” He then leaned into Neville and said much more softly “I heard he's into blokes.” 

Neville couldn't hide his shock. “What?” 

“Him and Zabini last year, I heard. ‘Course, nobody knows for sure. Just whispers. Zabini got engaged over the summer anyway. Some Swedish girl, if you can believe it.”  

“I had no idea,” Neville said, quietly. His heart raced still and he admonished himself for even thinking that meant he had some sort of chance. Place Zabini and Neville side by side, and there couldn't be any more of a difference. Neville was soft and fumbling while Zabini oozed confidence and sensuality. 

“I'd like to find out for myself,” Terry said, glancing behind him in the direction of Theo's retreating form. “He’s so bloody tall. Merlin knows what he could do with those hands.” 

Neville very suddenly wanted to punch Terry Boot right between his stupid squinty eyes. Or perhaps he wanted to agree heartily with Terry, finally having someone to discuss the finer points of Theodore Nott with. Maybe he wanted to boast that he knew very well what Theo could do with his hands, as he had spent more time watching them closely than Terry ever would. 

“Er,” Terry said tentatively, “All right, Neville?” When had Neville started clenching his hands into fists? 

“Fine. I'm fine,” Neville said, taking a steady breath and releasing his grip. 

“Oh good,” Terry said, “I'm sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable with the gay stuff. I don't know how to shut my gob sometimes. The lads in the dorm don't mind at all, but I know not everyone feels like they do.” 

“Not at all!” Neville stammered, sure he was now bright red. “I mean, I can't really be bothered by that. Seeing that I am as well.” 

“You're gay?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Merlin, I had no clue.”

Neville laughed. “I haven’t told many people,” he explained, “It's not a secret or anything.” 

As Neville said the words, he realized that maybe it was a bit of a secret. Not something he was putting much effort into hiding, he just didn't have many people around him who regarded him with enough curiosity to care what his preferences were. Ginny knew, of course. Luna had been around for plenty of “Potter Thing” conversations, but Luna seemed to think that the “Potter Thing” was referencing a conspiracy related to Harry's toenails. Neville wasn't sure if anything related to romance was on Luna's radar. 

“Well,” Terry said, “It's cool. It's nice to know there are other blokes here that are willing to be open about it.” 

“Yeah,” Neville agreed, deciding that even if he wasn't interested in Terry Boot as a potential lover, he would like to be his friend. 

Halloween came and went without fuss. No trolls, petrifications, escaped convicts, or rogue Goblets of Fire. The most horrifying experience was the sight of Professor Umbridge wearing orange robes. Somehow it was worse than the bright pink. 

The next day, Neville and Theo met for another lesson. Theo set Neville to work on a Sleeping Draught, which wasn't terribly difficult as long as Neville kept his focus. But his attention kept drifting. 

Theo was sitting languidly on a stool in front of Neville's cauldron, a book in hand, occasionally looking away from it to watch Neville at work. He had put on the muggle record again. Neville wondered if he knew if it was muggle. If he would care. They had never broached the subject of blood purity and Neville wasn't sure if Theo was just not mentioning it to avoid causing offense or if he really didn't buy into that sort of thing. After all, Cantankerous Nott was responsible for The Pureblood Directory and the Sacred 28. Surely, blood prejudice would be ingrained. 

Theo only hung out with Purebloods. Greengrass and Zabini. And Neville now, he supposed. Since Terry had mentioned the rumors of Zabini and Theo having a relationship last year Neville had noticed that they acted stiffy around each other. He noticed that Greengrass flitted between the two of them like a hummingbird, trying to spend roughly an equal amount of time with each boy. Snape had made a sardonic comment or two about how Greengrass switched between partnering with Zabini and Theo every time the class was meant to pair up. 

Zabini was probably a good kisser. Neville had never been kissed. 

Neville snapped out of his thoughts just in time to realize he was about to dump his chopped Sopophorous bean into his cauldron way too early. He quickly placed the ingredients back on his workstation and took a deep breath. 

“Close call,” Theo said, putting down his book. Neville's eyes moved to his textbook for the correct next step, but the words blurred amid his panic. 

“You know what you're doing,” Theo said calmly, “Talk me through it.” He leaned forward placing his hands on his knees and watching Neville intently. 

Neville took another deep breath, holding it, and then exhaled. After a few repetitions, the words on the page cleared up. “Flobberworm mucus is next,” he said. He added it to the cauldron. 

“Good,” Theo said, “Keep going.” 

Neville leaned in closer to the textbook. 

“Don’t look at the book, Neville. Look at me. You know what's next.” 

Neville met Theo's eyes, which gleamed gold in the light. 

“Stir it, lower heat, then add the bean.” 

“Stir vigorously. Give it your all.” Theo was smirking and Neville couldn't help letting out a small yelp as he began to stir as vigorously as he could.  

Neville finished the potion, narrating each step. Theo's eyes didn't leave him the entire time and Neville felt a bit giddy at the undivided attention. 

He's your tutor. He's supposed to pay attention to you, Neville's mind reasoned. 

Theo wasn't even being paid. He certainly didn't owe Neville anything. He didn't need to invite Neville to sit with him and work on homework after the potion was finished. He had even asked Neville to look over his Herbology essay. It was without fault, of course. Theo even managed to look surprised by Neville's praise. 

Was he spending extra time with Neville to avoid Zabini? 

“We're friends, aren't we?” 

Why was it so difficult for Neville to trust that Theo genuinely wanted to spend time with him? Was he that damaged? What would happen if Theo found out? 

He's already seen you panic. Many times. He didn't run then. He held your hands. He taught you how to breathe. He brewed potions for you. 

Theo looked up from his parchment, met Neville's gaze and flashed him a boyish grin. His heart soared. 

Maybe if life had given Neville something nice, he ought not to question it too much. 

Chapter Text

Professor Snape was looming over Neville and Granger, speaking what looked to be harsh words in a low tone Theodore couldn't quite make out. Granger was nodding wide-eyed and fervent while Neville looked at the Professor impassively, no trace of fear in his expression. 

Theodore ground his teeth in irritation. Why was Snape bothering Neville today? He usually left him alone when he was working with Granger besides an occasional comment about Neville not pulling his weight. But Neville was pulling his weight. He did roughly the same amount of work as Granger on the potion. Theodore had noticed him steadily increasing his contributions during partner work as the term went on, which first had Granger frantically trying to take over, which then led to what seemed to be a bewildered acceptance.  

Neville was no longer the worst in the class, by far. Neville had just shown Theodore a potions essay that had been recently handed back that Snape had graded EE. Neville was beaming and Theodore was happy for him, but also annoyed because he had looked over that essay and knew it deserved an O. 

Snape finished speaking to Neville and Granger and swooped back to the front of the class. Theodore watched his retreat while imagining taking a carving knife and peeling Snape's skin off like a shrivelfig. Squeezing him so hard that his eyeballs popped out with a sickening squelch. 

“Theo.” 

Theodore broke out of his dark daydream to find Daphne staring at him with a quizzical expression. “Your turn to stir, dear,” she said out of the side of her mouth. 

Theodore dutifully returned to his work, only occasionally sneaking glances at where Neville was working with Granger. Neville looked fine, breathing even, hands steady. Granger was babbling as she worked, her hair having grown frizzy and enormous from the heat and humidity in the classroom. The potion in their cauldron was a perfect light lavender. 

Theodore and Daphne's was closer to magenta. 

“What is wrong with you today?” Daphne hissed after punching him in the arm, hard enough to make him wince. 

“Snape is just a terrible teacher,” Theodore said. He started counting out spider eyes. Six of those, a roughly chopped sprig of lavender, and a dozen stirs alternating directions would hopefully put the potion to rights. 

“You're acting weird,” Daphne complained, “and I'm going to find out why.” 

Daphne could be huffy if she pleased. But at least Theodore had managed to fix their potion just in time for Professor Snape to stop by their station. 

“Decent recovery, Mr. Nott,” Snape said, “though it would behoove you to pay better attention to your work.” 

As the Potions Master stalked away, Theodore muttered “behoove” under his breath mockingly. 

“Are you trying to get detention?” Daphne snapped. 

“Not particularly,” Theodore said, “Maybe it would behoove you to pay more attention to your work and stop interrogating me. 

They finished the potion in a stony silence and when the class period ended, Theodore packed his things and left as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, Daphne could not be deterred and caught up to him, hanging on to the sleeve of his robes. 

“I have to get to Divination now,” she hissed, “but we will be having a conversation later.” 

Theodore trudged to the common room, the advent of the weekend and what would probably be a very uncomfortable conversation with Daphne hanging over his head. He considered hiding out somewhere, waiting for her to forget, but he knew she wouldn't. Absolutely bullheaded, that girl. Normally he was fond of her determination, but not when it was focused on him. 

Theodore idly wondered what Neville was doing over the weekend. Hanging out with Terry Boot? He wondered if he sent Neville an owl if it would find him immediately or wait until the morning post. 

Dear Neville, 

He imagined writing. 

In this whole castle, I only tolerate your company. This weekend I will be hiding in our room. If you are willing, please come. 

Yes, at some point Theodore has started mentally referring to The Room of Requirement as “our room”, even specifically requesting it with that title. It was domestic, almost. Embarrassing. Delightful. 

Entering the common room, Theodore selected a chair in the corner and threw his bag down on the floor, plopping down and pulling at his hair in agitation. Of course, Daphne was worried about him; he was behaving like a lunatic. 

Instead of writing to Neville, Theodore started an essay for charms. It took some time, but eventually, Theodore was able to clear his mind somewhat at focus on his task. Thus, he was not fully present when Daphne arrived and stood behind him hovering. 

“How is Lorelei?” Daphne asked, her voice sugar-sweet. 

Theodore didn't look up. “Who?” 

Theodore was then pulled away from his work with a sharp yank of his robes. Daphne stared down at him, looking positively manic. 

“Lorelei Selwyn,” she snapped, “Your cousin. The one you've apparently been tutoring twice a week. Spending hours with. Which is funny because when I asked her about it she seemed rather confused. In fact, she said that she has never spoken to you in her life.” 

Theodore opened and closed his mouth dumbly like a fish. 

“Don't you dare even speak if you're going to lie to me again.” 

Theodore said nothing and inclined his head towards his neighboring chair in an invitation to sit. Daphne sat down and stared at him, the anger in her features fading into sadness. 

“Please Theo, I just want to understand what's going on. You've been so distant all term. Isolating yourself. At first, I thought it was because of the stuff with Blaise, but that can't be all of it. You disappear twice a week for hours, barely make curfew, lying about where you've been…” Daphne leaned back into her chair, wringing her tiny hands together, “and now you're distracted during potions, insulting our head of house. It was like you wanted him to hear.” 

Theodore scoffed. “I didn't realize you held Professor Snape in such high esteem.” 

Daphne rolled her eyes. “My point is that you've never acted like that before.” 

“He was just bothering me today.” 

“Why?” Daphne asked, “Because he was bothering Longbottom? Like he's done constantly since first year? I didn't see you acting so indignant when he was threatening to poison his toad.” 

“Maybe I should have,” Theodore snapped, his anger boiling over. “Why do I have to tell you every detail of my life? Everything I feel? Am I not allowed to have secrets?” He glared at Daphne who looked on the verge of tears. 

“You've never hidden anything from me before,” she said. 

“You'll judge me,” he spat back, “You always judge. Always tell me what I need to do.” 

Daphne rose from her seat, indignant. “Theodore Nott, I have never judged you once in my life. Is that how you really see me?” 

She stalked off towards the girls' dorms, Theodore not moving to follow or call after her. He noticed some of the other students in the room gawking at him so he stared in their direction until they turned away. 

He was restless. He needed to do something with his hands. 

It was a long walk from the dungeons to The Room of Requirement and Theodore's guilt increased with each step. He knew that he shouldn't have snapped at Daphne. He knew that she cared for him; that she was worried. Theodore had never been in the habit of hiding anything from her. There were things they didn't discuss, primarily Theodore's father, but Daphne understood enough about Theodore's home life not to pry. 

At the same time, Theodore was indignant. Daphne had tracked down his cousin and questioned her! He was used to her using those tactics to ferret out the secrets of their classmates, but she had never done that to him. Never needed to, he supposed. He didn't even think she would care that he was spending time with Neville. She would be surprised, obviously. She would probably immediately insist on an introduction. Insert herself. 

Was it so wrong that he wanted Neville to himself? At least for now? 

Theodore paced in front of the entrance to the room, their room, calling it forth. The room, perhaps sensing what he desired most of all, actually contained Neville himself. 

The room had expanded. The potions lab and sitting area were still there, but now there was also a large space containing training dummies and cushions. Neville stood there, unaware of Theodore entering, shooting spells at one of the dummies. 

He was wearing muggle clothing: black trousers and white shirt, sleeves rolled up. His cheeks were flushed, a few curls of blond hair stuck to his forehead. Neville gripped his wand, perhaps too tightly. But his stance was good. Practiced. 

Someone else was tutoring Neville. Theodore felt an irrational flare of jealousy at that thought. Neville wasn't his, after all. Theodore had just tore into Daphne for asking about his secrets. It was the height of hypocrisy for Theodore to be concerned with Neville's. 

Yet he was. 

Neville finally turned around and spotted Theodore. His lips parted in surprise and he looked a bit like a child caught doing something naughty. Theodore walked up to him, feigning more confidence than he possessed, and poked at his wand hand. 

“You ought to loosen your grip a bit,” he said, grinning. Neville smiled softly and Theodore watched as his hand relaxed. 

“Sorry,’’ Theodore said, “I didn't know you'd be here. Do you want me to go?” 

Neville shook his head, eyes wide. “No no! I can leave if you want to be alone.” 

Don't go.

“Nah,” Theodore said, “It's nice to see you.” 

Neville's cheeks went pink. “Do you wanna practice dueling?” 

“Sure,’’ Theodore said, trying to sound casual. 

They stepped away from one another and Theodore immediately found himself longing for the proximity. “Friendly spells only!” Neville called out, a very good imitation of former Professor Lockhart. 

They bowed to each other. Theodore had barely lifted his head when Neville sent a lightning quick stunner in his direction. Theodore dodged the spell and sent back a tickling charm. Neville stumbled back, but managed to avoid it. 

Theodore sent another tickling charm, but this time Neville cast a protego and his spell bounced off the shield. 

“Tarantallegra!” Neville cast. Theodore caught the beam with a hastily cast mirror charm, which sent the spell back at Neville. It struck true and Neville's legs and feet began to twitch uncontrollably. Neville waddled about, but managed to shoot another stunner at Theodore before dispelling the jinx on himself. 

Theodore dropped into a crouch, avoiding the stunner. He popped back up, raising his wand to cast, but Neville was quicker and hit him in the face with a jinx that caused something to start growing from his ears. Theodore clutched at his ears in surprise, giving Neville another opening to land a jelly-legs jinx. Theodore's traitorous legs collapsed beneath him. He threw up a shield before casting the counter jinx and climbing to his feet. 

Neville looked gleeful, moving with more confidence as the duel went on. Neville bombarded him with a rapid assortment of spells, forcing Theodore to go on the defense. He cast shield and mirror charms when he could, but mostly focused on dodging. Neville advanced towards him, having grown an impressive beard thanks to a reflected jinx. Theodore cast a knockback jinx that succeeded in knocking Neville down, but his brief moment of triumph was long enough for a beam of red light to graze his hip and his vision to fade to black. 

He came to with Neville smiling down at him, offering his hand to help him up. Theodore accepted the hand, but instead yanked Neville down to the floor. Neville yelped, his body briefly landing on top of Theodore, before he rolled over to his side. 

Neville glared at Theodore playfully, gasping in laughter. He pointed a finger in accusation “Spoilsport!”

Theodore rolled over to face him. Neville looked so relaxed and happy, looking at Theodore with heavy-lidded eyes. A rush of fondness created an urge to pull the other boy towards and hold him close. Instead, he poked Neville in the nose.

“Merlin,” Neville gasped, “You're in an interesting mood today.” 

Theodore thought of his row with Daphne, a fresh wave of guilt washing over him. 

Neville must have noticed his change in expression, because his goofy smile wavered. “All right?” 

Theodore forced a smile, “I'll be okay. I was a git to my best friend. She was a git first. Still should apologize, though.” 

“Are you going to deliver your apology now? Or would you like to, I dunno, listen to a record or something?” Neville asked hopefully. 

Theodore acutely wanted to stay laying on the floor with Neville. Perhaps, move even closer, close enough to feel his breath against his face. See if Neville would move away. Instead, Theodore sat up saying “A record sounds great”. 

They moved to the sitting area. Theodore fell into a chair while Neville browsed through the record selection. He picked up each record and studied them, nose scrunched as he contemplated. After picking up one record, Neville giggled and turned it towards Theodore. 

“Is that…” Theodore peered closer to it, “a young Professor Flitwick?” 

The cover photo was a sepia toned young man with long hair and distinctly goblin features. 

“It has to be! Wanna listen?” 

“Absolutely,’’ Theodore said, grinning. 

They did not expect the heart wrenching operatic content of the record. Neville looked wistful as he listened. Theodore wondered what he was thinking of and Flitwick sang of a broken heart. 

As the record ended Theodore asked “Who taught you to duel like that?’’ 

Neville turned towards him, brows furrowed. Before he could speak, Theodore slumped into his seat. “It's okay, you don't have to tell me.” 

‘'I would,’’ Neville said, ‘’but honestly I'm a bit scared about what might happen to me if I did.” 

Theodore raised an eyebrow. “That's not ominous at all.” 

Neville cackled. “Let's just say I have some friends who are a lot more devious than they appear. Who would go pretty far to protect a secret.” 

Theodore's curiosity burned even more, but he kept his mouth shut. 

“Secret for a secret?” Neville asked. 

“What?” 

“I can't tell you who I'm learning dueling from, but I can tell you another secret.” 

“But I have to tell you one of my own?” 

Neville looked sheepish. ‘’I mean, that's how Ginny and I have always played it. It's okay if you don't want to tell me anything. I guess I just want you to know I trust you. Just because I can't answer your question doesn't mean I can't share other stuff.” 

“I'll play,” Theodore said. 

“Oh, okay, great,’’ Neville said, looking relieved. 

“Shall I go first then?” Theodore asked. 

“Erm, sure. If you want?” 

Theodore thought for a moment. He wanted to engage in this game in good faith, but he was hesitant. He wanted to share something genuine, but nothing dark enough to put Neville off. Because if he pulled back the layers, Neville, so kind and good, would recoil. 

“My father killed my mother, but I will never be able to prove it.” 

Well, that turned out to be darker than Theodore intended. Neville, to his credit, didn't react in an over-the-top fashion. He just looked sympathetic. 

“Anyone who has ever met my dad compares me to him and finds me utterly lacking,’’ Neville said, “It makes me so,” he paused, biting his lip, “Resentful. And guilty for being resentful of someone who's this paragon of all things strong and pure. The perfect Gryffindor. I've been working so hard this year because I want people to see me.” 

“I see you,” Theodore said. 

Later, Theodore returned to his common room. He didn't have to look far for Daphne. She was sitting by the fire, alone, staring into the flames. Theodore plopped down next to her. Daphne looked at him, gaze hard. 

Theodore threw up a quick anti-eavesdropping ward before asking “Secret for secret?” 

“What?” 

“I'll tell you my secret if you tell me one of yours.” 

“I don't keep secrets from you,” Daphne snapped. 

Theodore shrugged, “It doesn't need to be anything huge or life-altering. Maybe just something you haven't said out loud before.” 

Daphne sighed. She looked so tired, the firelight making the shadows on her face more prominent. “I think I'm so concerned with you, Blaise, and Astoria all the time because I'm frightened. Frightened about what might happen if I spare a thought towards myself.” 

Theodore put his arm around her and she leaned into his chest. They sat like that for a while quietly, Theodore idly stroking her hair. 

“You're supposed to share your secret now, you know,” she said. 

“I am utterly and hopelessly besotted with Neville Longbottom and I have no idea what to do about it.” 

Daphne stiffened, adjusting her posture to look Theodore in the eyes. 

“Excuse me… what was that now?” 

Chapter Text

Theodore groaned, slinking down to put his head in his hands. “Please don't make me say it again,” he begged in a whiny tone. 

Daphne placed her hand on Theodore's back and began rubbing it in small soothing circles. Theodore spared a look at her. Her eyes were gazing upward in contemplation. Her mouth opened to speak and then closed. After spotting Theodore's stricken expression she said, “Sorry, just wrapping my mind around it, I guess. Definitely not what I expected.” 

“What did you expect?”

“Dunno exactly,” Daphne said, shrugging, “Maybe you joined some top-secret anti-Dark Lord league… or you're snogging someone. So, I guess I was right. But Longbottom? Truly?” 

“I'm not snogging him, Daphne, I'm tutoring him.” 

“In potions? Oh! Okay, yes that makes sense. With today and all…” she drifted off. Theodore could practically see her mind churning. “Wait,” she gasped, “What do you mean you're not snogging him?” 

“What?” 

“Well, you said you were besotted! So, why aren't you snogging him?” 

Theodore groaned, regretting his word choice “I don't think I need to explain that just because I have feelings for him doesn't mean he returns them.” 

“Why ever not though? You're intelligent, attractive, the complete package. He's Longbottom.” 

“Hey,” Theodore growled in warning.

Daphne held up a hand. “Sorry, sorry,” she said in a sing-song voice, “There is obviously something about him that I'm not privy to that is causing you to want to snog his face off. But why wouldn't he want you? Is he straight?” 

“I have no idea.” 

“Are you telling me that you haven't even made a move?” 

“Daphne!” 

“Theoooooo.” 

Theodore glared at her and she smiled back impishly. Theodore leaned back against the couch and raked his fingers through his hair. “I don't want to do something weird and freak him out.” 

“Well, he is fairly easy to freak out,” Daphne conceded, “but I still think it would be better to go for it now instead of pining after him like a first-year. I think he'll go for it. He seems like he would be gay.” 

“What's that supposed to mean?” 

Daphne stammered, “Nothing bad! He just has that, erm, factor.” 

Theodore leaned towards her, teasingly. “Ah yes, the homosexual factor.” 

“You know what I mean!” she snapped. 

“I don't think I do,” Theodore said smoothly, “Feel free to elaborate” 

Daphne just stuck out her tongue at him. Her eyes lit up with a sudden thought. “Hey! This means you're over Blaise!” 

“I have been for a while. Like, I haven't wanted him back,” Theodore explained, “But I'm not over what happened. I know it sounds daft, but I really thought he would choose what we had over what his mother expected of him. At least try to fight her over it. But he just ended it and acts like it never mattered.”

“I dunno if it's any consolation, but it's affecting Blaise a lot more than he acts.”

It might have been a consolation a few months ago, encouraging the small spark of hope he had held then. But now, it just made Theodore feel numb. 

Even if Neville returned Theodore's feelings, how could know that he wouldn't be tossed aside one day? Then there was the matter that while Theodore's affection for Blaise was strong, it had always felt so warm and familiar. What he felt for Neville was an all-consuming inferno, bordering on obsession. If Neville broke his heart, he wasn't sure if he could come back from it. 

Daphne patted his knee. “Speaking in all my wisdom as a risk-averse individual who has never been in a relationship,” she began wryly, “I still think you should go for it. Merlin knows I don't understand it at all, but I want you to be happy, Theo. You deserve that.” 

Despite what Daphne told him, Theodore knew he didn't deserve Neville Longbottom. He didn't deserve his shy smiles. He didn't deserve to see the glint of mischief in his eyes when he was dueling. He didn't deserve to share quiet moments with him, studying together while a record played. 

Yes, he didn't deserve it at all, but he never claimed to be a good person. Anything Neville gave him, he would drink up greedily. 

Theodore had won their most recent duel, felling Neville with a petrificus totalus he was unable to dodge in time. Before dispelling the curse, Theodore laid down on the floor next to him. Free to move again, Neville turned over to face Theodore, his elbow on the floor propping up his head. Neville looked disheveled and so positively lovely that Theodore couldn't take his eyes off of him. 

For just a moment, Theodore allowed to imagine that they were on the floor for a very different reason, that Neville was sweaty and breathing heavily because Theodore had been kissing him and kissing him and kissing him. 

“Do you remember in our first year when Dumbledore gave a bunch of last-minute points to Gryffindor?” Neville asked after he had caught his breath. 

“Yes,’’ Theodore replied, “Vividly.” He had felt so proud to have won the house cup. Most Slytherins who had been there were still bitter about the sudden loss. “Didn't Potter fight Professor Quirrell? Stop him from stealing something from Dumbledore?” 

“Something like that,” Neville said, “Only it wasn't just Quirrell.” 

“Who else?” 

“You-Know-Who was possessing him.” 

“You're joking.” 

“Swear I'm not,” Neville said, crossing his heart, “he was wrapped up in the turban. All year long.” 

Theodore laughed despite himself. “What the fuck?” 

“Dumbledore gave me ten points.” 

“Right, I remember that. For standing up for your friends?” 

Neville nodded “Yeah I saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sneaking out so I tried to stop them. Even told them I would fight them. We'd already lost so many points for sneaking out before.” 

“I didn't realize you were such a troublemaker.” 

Neville flushed “Well, they were trying to help Hagrid get rid of his baby dragon-” 

“His what now?” Theodore interrupted incredulously. 

Neville chuckled “He got a dragon egg somehow and hatched it in his hut. But it was getting too big so they convinced him to give it up. Ron's brother works at a dragon sanctuary in Romania so some of his friends came to pick up the dragon. But Malfoy found out about it and tried to get them caught. So, I tried to warn them and we all got caught.” 

“That is mad,” Theodore said. 

“Quite. Anyway, when I tried to stop them from sneaking out again Hermione used petrificus totalus on me. I laid there for hours, I think.” 

Theodore's heart sank. “Shit, sorry Neville I won't use that on you again.” 

“Nah,” Neville said, shaking his head, “It's fine. It wasn't a big deal. Just reminded me.” 

Theodore thought Neville's definition of “fine” was pretty loose. He ought to go find Granger and leave her in a body bind for hours and see how she liked it. His expression must have been pretty stormy because Neville smiled at him softly and said, “Relax, I promise you I'm fine.” 

“If you say so.” 

Neville rolled over and flopped on his back, eyes on the ceiling. “Y'know I thought after that I'd be in their group. Harry, Ron, and Hermione's I mean. But I guess I never quite fit. They're always perfectly nice, of course. I just…” he trailed off, biting his lip. 

“They're fools if they can't see how great you are,” Theodore said softly. 

Of course, it had taken four years for Theodore to really notice Neville Longbottom. The real Neville, before him now, was so much more than what he had ever believed. But how had the people in Neville's own house not noticed him for so long? Despite Theodore's feelings on the house as a whole, he knew that Gryffindors weren't stupid, generally. Granger being at the top of the class was proof enough of that. 

Neville frowned “It's not like that. Like I said, they've always been really nice to me.” 

“Just closed off?” Theodore offered. 

“Yeah.” 

There was a stretch of silence where Theodore fought against the urge to grab Neville's hand and tell him how he deserved the entire world and Theodore would rip it all up by the roots and place it at his feet if he only asked. 

“Duel me again?” Neville asked, “Gotta get you back for that last one.” 

“You're on.” 

Even though Neville said it was fine, Theodore swore he would never cast the full body-bind curse on him again. 

“I've got news,” Daphne announced as she sat next to Theodore in the library. 

Theodore put down his quill. Daphne seemed giddy, bouncing her leg. Theodore raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Well, aren't you going to ask what my news is?” she asked, pretending to pout. 

“Fine,” Theodore sighed, “What news do you bring me, maiden fair?” 

“Longbottom is definitely gay. It's confirmed.” 

Theodore felt his cheeks burning. “How did you find that out?” 

“He told Terry Boot. Spread from there.” 

“Well, that settles it then,” Theodore said, resigned. 

“Settles what exactly?”

“He's dating Boot.” 

Daphne blinked. “I'm not seeing the train of thought here.” 

“They were in Hogsmeade together last weekend. We passed them. They were on a date, obviously.”

Daphne laughed. “They're just friends. Boot was just happy to have made another out-and-proud gay friend. That's all.” 

“Oh,” Theodore said. 

If Neville had been straight and rejected Theodore, it would be because he didn't like boys. Theodore thought he would be able to handle that. But now, Theodore knew Neville liked boys. So if he rejected Theodore, it obviously meant that something about Theodore was lacking. That would hurt even more, Theodore thought. 

“Sooooo,’’ Daphne said leaning in, “are you going to dramatically confess your love, or what?” 

“I'm going to finish this Transfiguration essay,” Theodore said. 

“Then snog Longbottom silly?” 

“Then revise for our charms test tomorrow.” 

Daphne rolled her eyes dramatically. “We've established that you know Longbottom way better than I do. But from what I do know, it seems like if you want something to happen you're going to have to make the first move.” 

“Neville can be assertive,’’ Theodore defended. 

“Well,” Daphne said, “Hopefully one of you will locate the bollocks to make a move soon. Or I will have to take drastic measures.” 

She steepled her fingers together and laughed villainously, causing them both to be viciously scolded by Madam Pince. 

“Maybe we can all hang out soon,” Daphne offered, ‘’I can assess how he acts around you and tell you if he likes you or not.” 

“Er,” Theodore stalled. Daphne was an intense person. She also wasn't the type to hide her feelings on anything. It had gained her the reputation of being a bitch or an ‘’ice queen”, but it really came down to her lack of verbal filter. Daphne was incredibly caring and sweet to the very few who inspired her loyalty. Theodore had a feeling that poor Neville would be terrified of her. 

“Relax,” she said, sensing Theodore's discomfort, “I won't be a bitch. I won't push it either.” She stretched her arms upwards, lowered them, and rolled her shoulders. ‘“But,” she added, “if you actually start snogging him and don't introduce him to me, your best mate, I will be very cross with you.” 

“Noted,” Theodore said. Despite all his efforts, his cheeks grew flush imagining the feel of Neville's soft lips against his own. 

Theodore has wanted things before. He had wanted his father out of his life, preferably dead but he wasn't picky as long as he never had to see him again. He had wanted to study every type of magic. He had even wanted Blaise, once. But he had never wanted anything as much as he wanted Neville Longbottom, and it took everything in him not to be terrified of that fact. 

Chapter Text

Neville couldn't recall a time when he was less stressed than Hermione Granger in a potions lesson, but while she fretted Neville felt cool, perhaps even a bit confident. He mentally thanked Theo again for the anxiety-reducing draught as he ground up the erumpent horn. 

They were brewing an Erumpent Potion, a highly explosive brew. Snape was on high alert, swooping through the room aiming sneers and suspicious looks at all the students present. Neville mused to himself that if he had been presented with this challenge even a month ago, he would have probably ended up in the Hospital Wing. Either because he had an anxiety attack or the potion exploded in his face. 

Hermione had been a lot better about allowing Neville space when they worked together in class, but the nature of the assignment had her breathing down his neck. He would have been more annoyed, but the potion he took before class tempered that. 

“Remember Neville, it has to be a fine dust. Any big pieces left behind could cause an eruption,’’ she said. Hermione was slowly stirring the potion in a figure-eight formation, counting softly to herself. When she stopped, Neville allowed her to inspect the ground-up horn before he sprinkled it into the cauldron. 

“Why does he keep staring at us?” Hermione asked through grit teeth. 

“Snape? He always stares at us. Just trying to trip us up. It's fine,” Neville replied. He took over the stirring while Hermione began slicing the delicate erumpent tail. 

“Not Professor Snape,” she hissed, “Nott.” 

Flushing, Neville peeked over and made eye contact with Theo. Poor Theo had been forced to work with Goyle, as Greengrass was paired with Zabini. Goyle was kicked back, half asleep, while Theo gamely did the entire potion on his own. That was probably for the best considering how volatile it was. 

Theo mouthed “You okay?” at Neville. Neville nodded and turned back around to resume stirring. 

“I didn't say look at him,’’ Hermione groused. 

“It's fine, Hermione,” Neville said. 

Hermione looked at him strangely. “He's been looking at us the entire lesson.” 

“Theo’s my friend,” Neville said, lowering his voice, “He's just checking on me.” 

“Your friend?” 

Snape honed in on the pair at that moment. “Mr. Longbottom and Miss. Granger, cease your chatter and return to your work before you kill us all.” 

“Yes, sir,” they said in unison. 

They worked quietly for the rest of the lesson, except for Hermione giving orders. Nobody's cauldron exploded and Snape merely nodded at Hermione and Neville's completed potion before moving on. 

The conversation started in potions wasn't over, however, as once they left the classroom Hermione seized Neville's arm and dragged him into a deserted alcove. 

“Since when are you friends with Theodore Nott?” Hermione hissed. 

“Since the end of September. He's been helping me with potions.” 

Hermione scrunched up her nose in thought. “Ah yes, well I guess that explains your improvement. You could have come to me though! I've been offering to help you since First Year.” 

“I know,” Neville said awkwardly, “You're really busy though.” 

“I would have made the time for you,” she said, looking a bit sad. 

“I know you would have, Hermione. You're a good person. Helpful. But you shouldn't have to make time for me. You have enough on your plate.” 

“Nott, though?” 

“You don't even know him,” Neville snapped, defensively. 

“I know enough, Neville. I know his father is a Death Eater.”

“That doesn't mean anything. Theo's a good person.” 

Of course, Theo didn't believe like his father. Theo despised his father. Neville even suspected that something else was wrong in their relationship besides the death of Theo's mother, though he was afraid to ask. 

“Do you not realize that he could be trying to get close to you under false pretenses?” Hermione asked. 

“No,” Neville said shortly, “I approached him.” 

“He could have seen it as an opportunity!” Hermione's face lit up the way it always did when she felt like she was solving a puzzle everyone else was too stupid to see, “He could use you to…” 

“To what?” 

“To get to Harry!” 

Neville took a deep breath, using a hand to grab at the stone wall behind him. The anxiety-reducing elixir had worn off and a part of him felt afraid that Hermione's words were true, but he mostly felt white-hot rage. He laughed coldly, removing his hand from the wall and forcing himself to stand up straight. 

“Of course,” he nearly snarled, “Because absolutely everything revolves around Harry Potter.  It's just not possible that someone would want to be friends with me without an ulterior motive.” 

Hermione reached out. “That's not what I mean, Neville. Of course, people want to be friends with you. I just…” 

Neville turned away before Hermione could touch him. 

“I just want you to think about it,” she said. 

“I'll see you later, Hermione,” Neville replied, as smoothly as he could manage but he knew his voice had probably trembled. He re-entered the main corridor and walked with the rest of the students. He could feel the tears on his cheeks, but he walked on with his head held high and hoped nobody noticed. 

It had been a while since Neville had helped Professor Sprout in the greenhouses outside of class. He had been way too busy between his coursework, tutoring with Theo, and The DA. Professor Sprout waved away Neville's apologies and immediately set him to caring for a sickly-looking Sneezewort plant. 

Neville focused on gently nursing the plant back to health, trying to push the argument with Hermione out of his mind. His insecurities were wailing up within him. He had no reason to not trust Theo. Theo had been nothing but honest and kind to Neville and he refused to think badly of him. 

‘But you're useless’, a small ugly voice in Neville's head told him, ‘Why does he even tolerate you?’ 

“Shut up,” Neville said into his hands. Gritting his teeth, he got back to work and was able to hold back the flood of feelings for a bit longer. A spot of blight on one of the plants captured his attention until a growl of his stomach and a glance at his watch confirmed he had worked through dinner. 

He supposed he could go down to the dungeons and visit the kitchen. He may even run into Theo on the way and he could invite him along. He cleaned up after himself and washed his hands. As he began to leave the greenhouse, he literally ran into Theo. 

“I'm so sorry,” he squeaked, “I wasn't watching where I was going.” Neville realized then that Theo had not moved when he collided with him and thus Neville's chest was pressed against his arm. He desperately hoped that his face was not a bright scarlet when he slowly moved away.  

“You weren't at dinner,” Theo said blandly. He held up a paper bag. “I went to the kitchen and got you some sandwiches.” 

“Oh,” Neville said lamely. 

Theo casually walked past him, looking infuriatingly handsome, and placed the bag on an empty work table. As he began removing its contents he said, “I didn't know what kind of sandwiches you liked, so I got a selection.” After the wrapped sandwiches were all out of the bag, Theo took a seat on one of the stools and patted the one next to him. 

Theo was so tall that he made the regular-sized stool look tiny, his feet still brushing the ground despite the stool's height. It was frankly adorable. Neville took the stool next to him. They were close together. Neville's leg was pressed against Theo's, but neither of them moved away. 

“How did you know I was here?” Neville asked. 

Theo smiled “Well, I went to the kitchens and your friend Lovegood was there. She already knew I was looking for you and told me where to find you.” 

Neville worried his lip in confusion. “But she doesn't…” he trailed off. 

“Know we're friends? And you didn't tell her you went to the greenhouses?” Theo asked. 

“Yeah, I haven't even seen her today,” 

“She's got this whole head in the clouds thing going on, but I think she's a lot more perceptive than people realize.”

Neville laughed, “I think she likes to hold on to that kind of stuff and then say something about it at a time where the person is most likely to freak out.” 

“Sounds like a less malicious version of Daphne,’’ Theo mused. He pointed to the sandwiches, “This one's turkey, next one's ham, the safe options. And the third one is Lovegood and House Elf collaboration. According to her, she's been teaching them new recipes.” 

Neville's hand hovered over each option. “I'm kind of curious about what Luna made, to be honest.” 

“Me too,” Theo said, sounding eager, “She didn't let me look at it beforehand.” 

Neville unwrapped it and looked down at a large piece of bread with a warm yellow spread, covered in something cubed, and sprinkled with some sort of seasoning. There was a small note inside reading 

Hummus, Halloumi, and Dukka Tartine. Also, I quite like your new beau. He's very nice. 

All my love,

Luna 

Neville hastily slid the note up his sleeve before Theo could read it, his cheeks burning. If Theo noticed it, he was nice enough not to say anything. Instead, he looked at the sandwich and at Neville expectantly. 

Neville had never heard of any of the ingredients Luna had listed, but he wasn't about to back down. Besides, it smelled really good. He lifted up the bread and took a bite and his eyelids fluttered. It was fantastic.

“I have no idea what I'm eating,” he said after chewing and swallowing, “but this may be the best sandwich I've ever had.” 

Theo watched him, elbow on the table and leaning his hand against his chin. His expression was soft, perhaps even fond. Neville offered him the side of the tartine he hadn't bitten. “You have to try this Theo,” he urged. 

“You haven't even had dinner! And you really like it, I don't want to take it away,” Theo protested, but Neville moved the food even closer to his mouth. 

“You've brought me a feast, Theo. I'll be fine. Take a bite? For me?” Neville fluttered his eyelashes, praying he wasn't making a total fool of himself. 

Theo smirked and leaned in, taking a bite from the tartine while Neville still held it. It was strangely intimate and immediately set Neville's heart to fluttering like mad. Theo pulled away chewing, a few crumbs falling down his front. Merlin, he was lovely. Neville giggled in spite of himself and clasped his hand over his mouth, cheeks burning. 

“Fantastic,’’ Theo said, “I will take five more.” 

Neville lifted the sandwich towards Theo in invitation and Theo shook his head, laughing. “No, no, more later. We'll have more later.” Neville grinned, a bit giddy at the thought of the promise of sharing more sandwiches in the future. 

Neville was working on the ham sandwich when Theo asked, “Are you okay? You don't normally skip dinner.” 

Did Theo frequently check to see if Neville was at dinner? “I got into a bit of a row with Hermione earlier,” he said, “I came here to cool off and then lost track of time.”

“What did you fight about?” 

“Erm, well, it's kind of…” Neville wrung his hands together. 

“It's fine. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to.” 

“I do want to talk about it, I just,” Neville took a deep breath, shuddering a bit on the exhale, “She noticed you looking at us in class, so I told her we were friends and that you'd been helping me with potions. She got weird about it.”

“How so?” 

Neville shifted a bit on his stool, very aware of how close Theo was to him and how their legs were pressed together. Theo just looked vaguely curious and didn't seem upset that Neville had told Hermione about their friendship. 

“She, er, said some things about your family, your father…” 

“That he follows The Dark Lord?” Theo asked neutrally. 

“Yeah, and well, she implied… Well, really, she said it. She said that you might only be my friend because you want to get close to Harry. For, erm, nefarious purposes.”

Theo's hand gripped Neville's knee. Neville turned to look at him, his mouth was tight and he looked enraged, but he said nothing. 

“I'm sorry,” Neville yelped, “Of course, I don't believe in any of that rot.” 

Neville waited for and dreaded the moment that Theo's hand would leave his knee. He was sure that it was all over now. Theo would leave and they would become strangers again. Neville was both desperate to stop him and desperate to not appear like a heartsick fool grabbing at his ankles. 

But Theo didn't let go and he didn't leave either. Instead, he sighed and leaned even closer, giving Neville's knee a gentle squeeze. “My father is,’’ he said, letting out a small sigh, ‘’an abysmal human being. My mother was warm and gentle. She never would have chosen my father as a husband. He was more than thirty years older than her when they married. You know how the old pureblood families are.” 

Neville nodded. The Longbottom's had moved away from more oppressive traditions over the last few generations. For example, there were no more arranged marriages. There was still an expectation for heirs to marry and produce children. Neville's Gran didn't know about Neville's romantic preferences and he was dreading the day he'd have to tell her. 

“She tried her best to protect and guide me while I was alive. I'm always going to be grateful for that. I can understand where Granger's concerns come from, but I'm still angry because,” Theo closed his eyes and sighed. 

“Because she judged you?” Neville guessed. 

Theo turned and looked at him so intensely it made Neville's breath hitch. “No,” he said, shaking his head, “Because she hurt you.” 

Without thinking, Neville put his hand on top of Theo's. Smiling softly, Theo intertwined their fingers.

Dear Godric, they were holding hands. 

“You aren't,” Theo paused, looking at Neville with a striking intensity, “A pawn. You aren't someone to be manipulated. I know Granger cares about Potter… but I care about you.” 

Theo's finger was stroking the back of Neville's thumb, and more than anything Neville wanted to lean in and capture Theo's mouth with his own. He wasn't so bold, though. Would Theo want to? Neville knew that he couldn't hold up to someone like Zabini. Besides, Theo's hand in his could just be a form of friendly reassurance. It didn't mean Theo wanted him. Because he couldn't want him. Right? 

“I, er, care about you too,” Neville said. 

So much. Perhaps more than would be reasonable in only two months. 

Theo smiled. Was that a blush on his cheeks? No, it was probably the light of the sun setting behind them. 

“Oh!” came a startled-sounding yell from the entrance of the greenhouse. It was Professor Sprout. “Mr. Longbottom! I had no idea you were still here. And Mr. Nott as well! I didn't know you two were so friendly.” 

“I was bringing Neville some dinner. He's working too hard,’’ Theo told their Professor. His smile towards her oozed aristocratic charm. Neville had never managed to master that skill, but Theo had it down to an art form. It made Neville feel uncomfortably warm all over. Theo had yet to let go of Neville's hand. It was probably hidden out of Sprout's view by the table, but Neville couldn't help feeling a bit scandalous about it all. 

He's just holding your hand. Calm down. 

“I'm sure both of you are being run ragged this year, poor dears,” Professor Sprout said fondly, “I expect O's for both of you in my class, of course.” 

“I hope I can get an O,” Theo said, falsely humble, “I'm just grateful Neville here is willing to help me out.”

Neville gave him an incredulous look that made Professor Sprout laugh in delight. 

“Oh boys,” she sighed, “It's awfully close to curfew though, so off you pop. You're both welcome here any time, but no skipping meals.” She directed the last comment at Neville in a stern tone. 

“Yes, Professor, sorry,” Neville said. 

Theo dropped Neville's hand in order to stand and Neville managed to not look sad about it. They left the greenhouses together and walked back towards the castle. 

“I don't even help you with Herbology at all,” Neville said. 

“You looked over my last essay,’’ Theo argued. 

“Yes, I looked at your perfect essay and told you it was perfect.” 

“Perfect, you say?” Theo playfully leaned towards Neville, knocking their shoulders together. 

“I daresay it was even poetic,” Neville teased. 

“Means everything coming from you.” 

When they made it to the entrance hall, Neville stood facing Theo awkwardly. It felt like something had shifted between them that evening. Like Neville should say goodbye in another way that just waving. A hug? Maybe even… no it was all in his head. His crush was making him see things lopsided. 

“I'll, erm, see you tomorrow then?” Neville said. 

“Looking forward to it,” Theo said. 

Neither of them moved away. They were turned towards each other, close enough to…

Theo reached out and squeezed Neville's shoulder. “Sweet dreams, Neville,” he said. 

“Goodnight Theo,” Neville said softly. 

They parted ways then. When Neville returned to Gryffindor Tower he avoided Hermione's stare and Ron's stormy look and headed straight to bed, head still spinning. 

Their dorm was empty, save Harry, who was sitting on his bed reading a book. 

“Oh Neville,” he said lightly, “Can I talk to you for a minute?” 

Neville's stomach dropped with dread. “Sure,” he said, tentatively approaching. 

“I just wanted to say, I think it's cool that you've made a friend in Slytherin,” Harry said, making Neville freeze in surprise, “Nott seems like an all-right bloke. Like I told Hermione, he's never said anything rude to her or the other muggleborns and he doesn't pal around with Malfoy. I told her to back off.” 

“Er, thanks, Harry.” 

“She still might, I dunno, push the issue a little longer. But she'll come around, I think. I got cross with her and Ron and kind of stormed up here.” 

Neville laughed lightly. “I know they're concerned about you. I think they have a right to be.” 

Harry looked sheepish at that. 

“But,” Neville continued, “I would never do anything to jeopardize your safety. Or betray the DA. Anything like that.” 

“I know,” Harry said, “I trust you.” 

Neville smiled. It was nice to feel trustworthy. Especially to someone like Harry who didn't really have a reason to trust most people. But Harry's words didn't send Neville reeling like they would have before. That feeling was reserved for Theo now, and it was nice to just be able to talk to Harry with a clear mind. 

“I'm gonna go back down and try to patch things up,” Harry said, “I may have yelled a bit earlier. I think I do that too often now.” 

“I have a book you could borrow! It's, erm, breathing exercises and stuff like that. Helps you combat anxiety and, er, rage? Theo got it for me actually.” 

Harry gave Neville a wide grin. “Cheers, Neville. That would be brilliant actually. You can just throw it on my bed.” 

After Harry left, Neville prepared for bed. He found Luna's more still tucked in the sleeve of his robes and he gave it a new home in the compartment of his trunk that had all his most precious mementos. He laid back on his bed, curtains closed, and allowed himself to imagine if Theo's lips were as soft as they seemed, his steady hands touching Neville everywhere. He had very sweet dreams, indeed. 

Chapter Text

Theodore methodically consumed his breakfast while trying his hardest to tune out the dull roar that pervaded The Great Hall at mealtimes. He sat amongst his peers but at the same time alone. Daphne was leaning into Tracey Davis, gossiping furiously. Draco was holding court further up the table, reading aloud from the newest edition of the Daily Prophet. 

“'He's always shouting at teachers unprovoked, losing house points, and getting detentions.’ said a source close to Potter. From the evidence presented, it seems this young man could be a danger to his fellow students,” Draco said, his voice loud and mocking with pure mirth shining on his face. 

“I bet he's the source close to Potter,” said a voice close to Theodore's ear. 

The bench creaked as someone sat and a familiar dark-skinned hand reached in front of Theodore to grab a piece of toast. Two golden rings shone on the fingers, one was a Zabini family signet ring, and the other an ouroboros, a birthday gift from Theodore. Theodore wanted to yank it right off of him. 

Theodore turned to look at Blaise who was smirking at him. Blaise, who until now, had only spoken to Theodore with Daphne as a buffer. There was a twist of dread in Theodore's gut. What did Blaise want? 

“Don't want to sit with your new best mate today?” Theodore asked, tilting his head at Draco and his gang. Vince and Greg were watching Draco with dopey grins on their faces while Pansy clutched his arm and giggled at everything he said.  

Blaise spread an egregious amount of marmalade on his toast. “ Nowhere near best mates. But I can see the way the wind is blowing,” Blaise took a noisy bite out of his toast, “Can you?” 

Draco had made near-daily comments about his “important house guest” since the term began. It increased his arrogance and status within Slytherin, but Theodore knew that Draco wasn't presenting the full picture. He probably wasn't even aware of it. 

Theodore had the dubious honor of being the son of Yorrick Nott, one of the original Death Eaters, schoolboy friend to The Dark Lord. Whilst Lucius Malfoy denounced the Dark Lord and claimed to be imperiused, Theodore's father had remained loyal. He was never charged with any crimes, always careful to cover his tracks, but his reputation had suffered as a result. He was loyal. Perhaps not loyal enough in the Dark Lord's eyes, but who could be? 

The Dark Lord was not honoring the Malfoy's by residing in their home. He was keeping them close for observation and punishing their slights against him. Draco would probably suffer the most of all. 

“You need better sources,” Theodore stated, gesturing towards himself. 

“Can't really use you as a source if you ignore me,” Blaise said, hurt leaking into his tone. 

“We've been mutually ignoring each other.” 

“I brought you a sandwich!” Blaise nearly shouted, “That meant I wanted us to be friends again.” 

“Forgive me for not being up to date on the sandwich code,” Theodore said dryly. 

Blaise clutched his head in exasperation and muttered something rude in Italian under his breath. 

“Can we speak somewhere privately?” Blaise asked. 

“I'm eating,” Theodore said. He took another bite of his toast, feeling entirely too smug about denying Blaise. 

Blaise leaned towards Theodore and whispered furiously, “You need to fall in line with the rest of your house. You know what’s coming. Slytherin will protect you.” 

Theodore wheezed out a laugh. “They are schoolboys playing at war and they will die for it. Stay out of it, Blaise. Go to Sweden.” 

Draco was a good student, above average in many subjects. However, the standard Hogwarts curriculum did not create warriors. Theodore had seen Neville practice dueling. He was nowhere near on par with a Death Eater or an Auror, but he was at least trying to prepare himself. Theodore assumed that Potter and his crowd were doing the same. Draco was studying for his OWLS and flashing his prefect's badge around. Theodore didn't think any of them were truly ready for a war, but one side knew what was at stake. Draco probably wouldn't understand until he saw the flash of green light directed at him. He believed himself to be untouchable.  

“I can go to Sweden, but where will you go, Theo? You can't escape this,” Blaise's voice was softer now, the gentle tone reserved for the dark. How dare he pretend to care after everything? 

“I will endure, as always,” Theodore said with a tight smile, “Don't trouble yourself with my welfare.” 

Blaise reached towards Theodore and clutched the front of his robes. His eyes looked almost desperate. “Theo,” he said. 

“Don't.” Theodore pushed Blaise's hand away and stood, leaving the Great Hall without sparing a glance behind him. 

Theodore couldn't get through the day with only one tedious conversation. 

When he sat down in Ancient Runes, Granger was at the front of the class speaking to Professor Babbling. As she returned to her desk, she slipped a scrap of parchment to Theodore. 

I need to speak to you after class. 

Theodore straightened his back and breathed sharply, as opposed to loudly cursing and banging his fists against the desk. He could endure a conversation with Granger. 

When class ended, Professor Babbling went to lunch with everyone else, so Theodore stayed behind slowly packing away his things. He looked up to find Granger sitting on the desk in front of him, looking down on him. It was a decent attempt at a power play, but Theodore knew that he could simply stand up and loom over her if he wanted. 

Let her have this. I just want to get this over with. 

Granger looked at Theodore appraisingly until Theodore decided he must be meant to speak first. “I assume this concerns our mutual friend?” 

“What are your intentions with Neville?” she snapped. 

Theodore almost laughed. There were so many things he longed to give Neville, to accept from him in turn. 

“To be his friend,” Theodore said, “Care for him.” Simple enough. And if Neville wanted more, Theodore would give him that as well. 

Granger looked thoughtful but didn't speak yet. Theodore had to respect her a bit. Since she arrived at Hogwarts as a tiny buck-toothed eleven-year-old, she had refused to fade into the background. Theodore thought she would either die tragically young or be the first muggle-born Minister for Magic. 

“Neville doesn't see the world like…” Granger paused and bit her lip, “He doesn't see the world like us. He doesn't see bad intentions. He's kind.” So, Granger was implying that she and Theodore were alike. Interesting. 

“He is very kind,’’ Theodore agreed, “but he's not stupid. You infantilize him.” 

Granger frowned. “I just don't want him to get hurt.” 

Theodore leaned back into his seat. “I don't think that's it, though. Neville already told me what you said to him. That you thought I would use him to hurt Potter.” 

“Of course, he told you,” Granger said, having the audacity to look betrayed. 

“We're friends,” Theodore said lightly, “we share our burdens. I don't begrudge you for caring about Potter and wanting to keep him safe, Granger. You care about him. But don't act like any of this is for Neville's sake.”

“Of course, it's for his sake!” 

“Don't lie. You don't care if Neville gets hurt as long as Potter is protected.” 

“I am perfectly capable of caring for them both.”

“When have you shown that?” Theodore asked hotly, “You either ignore Neville or boss him around. You don't really see him.”

Theodore remembered how hurt Neville sounded when he spoke of Granger, Potter, and Weasley. The stronghold he couldn't penetrate. "They've been nothing but nice to me."

“You've only been his friend for a few months. You think you know him so well?” 

“More than you! You've been around him constantly for years and you have no idea how brilliant he is.” 

Granger shuffled uncomfortably and Theodore felt proud that he had unraveled her. 

“Ask me what you really want to know,” he said. 

“Will you follow Lord Voldemort?” 

Theodore almost admonished her for saying the name but stopped himself. 

“I would give up my life before I pledged myself to him.” 

Granger nodded, seemingly satisfied. She left without a goodbye. Theodore sat alone for a while after she left, tapping his finger against the smooth wood of his desk. 

Theodore had never wanted to fight. He wanted to live. Endure. Learn. But now he found himself thinking that he couldn't stay away from the war if Neville's life was in danger. He wouldn't fight for Potter or Dumbledore, but he could fight for Neville. For a kinder world. 

Chapter Text

Neville Longbottom didn't consider himself a jealous person. 

Back when he fancied Harry Potter, he didn't get jealous when girls talked to him. Neville knew Harry was unattainable and was just content to occasionally bask in the glow of his attention. That's why he and Ginny were able to bond over their mutual crushes, rather than compete for his affections. Neville knew that if it ever came down to it, Ginny would win and he would be happy for her. 

Since Neville began spending time with Theodore Nott, jealousy had become a far more common emotion. 

There was Terry Boot who made comments about Theo's hands in Hogsmeade. Theo's hands who had now warmly held Neville's own. Neville didn't even know what to think about that. 

Then, the morning after, jealousy roiled in Neville's gut, gnawing at his throat. Because Blaise Zabini was leaning into Theo's space at the Slytherin table, way too close. 

Get away from him. Get away. Get away. 

Neville had no way of knowing if the rumor Terry told him about Theo and Zabini was true. Neville didn't think he'd find out unless Theo volunteered that information himself. There had certainly been a falling out between the pair. Even from the Gryffindor table, Neville could tell Theo wasn't enjoying Zabini's company. He was stiff and his eyes were darting around the Great Hall, looking at anything but the boy next to him. 

Neville clutched the handle of his fork, cool metal digging into his palm. He never considered himself a prankster, but he suddenly felt the urge to confer with the Weasley Twins about their catalogue of products. Zabini wouldn't be so attractive if he was bright orange and had additional hair growing out of every orifice. He let himself smile at the thought of vain Zabini cursing his ruined looks. Although to be fair, Neville had no idea if Zabini was actually a vain person at all. He knew nothing about him other than he was much more attractive than Neville would ever be and that Theo had most likely kissed him before. That was enough to make Neville despise him. 

Theo suddenly rose from his seat and practically stormed out of the Great Hall. Zabini had rocked back slightly when Theo stood. Had he been touching Theo? Had Theo pushed him away? 

Neville was considering discreetly following Theo out to check on him when he was distracted by a freckled hand stealing a sausage off his plate. 

“Y'know,” Ginny Weasley said, “I don't really appreciate finding out stuff about my best mate from Hermione Granger of all people. Kind of stings.” 

From Ginny's smile, Neville could tell that she wasn't actually cross with him. She was obviously burning with curiosity though, and Neville wouldn't be able to get away with feeding her only scraps of information. Besides, he really was desperate to talk to someone about Theo, to get some perspective. 

“I have so much to tell you,” Neville said. 

Ginny's face lit up. “Brilliant,’’ she said, “Wanna meet up after dinner?” 

Neville shook his head. “I'm actually,” he lowered his voice, “meeting Theo then.” 

Ginny clapped Neville on the shoulder. “That's why I never see you anymore! Okay, okay. After classes then? Michael can cope without me, I think.”

“You don't need to cancel on him on account of me,” Neville started. 

“Nonsense,” Ginny said flippantly, “This is much more important.” 

“Well, if you insist.” 

Later, Ginny and Neville found a quiet corner of the common room to talk. They had brought out some textbooks and parchments that vaguely suggested they were studying together, but the objects remained untouched as Ginny leaned in, wide-eyed and expectant. 

“So,” she said, “From the top, then?” 

So, Neville started from the beginning. He told Ginny he wanted to improve at potions and decided to ask Theo. He told her about how he had helped him through a panic attack, brewed an anxiety-soothing potion for him, and how they had gradually begun lingering together longer and longer. He told her how Theo teased him and how it could be flirting. But Neville wasn't so sure because he had never been flirted with before, to his knowledge. 

Finally, he told her about the previous evening when Theo had brought him dinner unprompted and held his hand. How he hadn't even let go when Professor Sprout walked in on them. The story came out in a flood, the feelings Neville had been holding finally being allowed to surface in a safe place. 

Ginny didn't interrupt but did seem to become more excited the more Neville spoke. Even gasping and clasping at his arms at certain points. “He absolutely fancies you, Neville,” she said when Neville finished speaking. 

“You really think so?” Neville asked, frowning. 

“He held your hand!”

“We've held hands before, Ginny. We don't fancy each other.”

“Or do we?” Ginny teased, raising an eyebrow. 

Neville laughed. “You've seen Zabini though. He's so…” 

“Fit?” Ginny asked. 

“Yeah, well,” Neville flushed, “There's no way he could go from that to this.” He gestured at himself. 

“You've grown up over the summer, Nev,” Ginny said, “People are noticing.” 

Neville balked. “Who?” 

“Girls,” Ginny said with a shrug, “Didn't think you'd be interested if I passed that on. But Parvati Patel was asking about you. Fay Dunbar thinks you're cute. And you've been getting attention in DA.” 

Neville frowned. “People fancy me because I'm getting better at defense?” 

Ginny shrugged. “Some girls like to think of a bloke fighting for them. Think it's hot.” 

“Not you, though.” 

Ginny laughed. “Michael knows I can fend for myself.” 

“How's that going, by the way?” Neville asked. 

Ginny's smile faltered. It didn't leave her face completely, but her lips twitched in discomfort. 

“It's good,” she said carefully, “I still fancy him a lot. He's good company. There's just this… thing.” 

“What thing?” 

Ginny leaned closer to Neville and practically whispered. “He wants to take our relationship to the next level.” 

Neville blinked, confused. “He wants to get engaged?”

Ginny let out a startled laugh. “No, Neville. He wants to have sex.” 

“Oh,” Neville said, cheeks burning. 

Ginny crossed her arms to her chest. “I'm not a prude. I'm not trying to save myself for marriage or anything like that. But I don't think I'm ready for that.” 

“You're only fourteen.” 

“Right,” Ginny sighed, “And I like Michael a lot. He's fun to be around. He's great at snogging. But, I dunno, I reckon maybe I want to be in love before I do that?” 

“That's fair,” Neville agreed. 

Ginny chewed on her bottom lip. “I'm not even sure if I'll ever get there with Michael. Falling in love, I mean.” She looked off into the distance, eyes glazed. “But I'm worried that if I keep blowing him off he'll find someone else and I'll regret it forever. I won't realize that I love him until he's gone.” 

“If he's not willing to wait until you're ready, he's not worth it,” Neville said. 

“You're right,” Ginny said with a sigh, “I probably should speak with him about it.” 

Neville nodded, “And if he's pushy about it, I'll hex his bollocks off.” 

Ginny screamed with laughter. “Neville!” 

“I mean it,” Neville said, seriously, “I could probably do that now.” 

“I don't remember learning that curse in DA.” 

“It's all in the aim,” Neville said, miming a wave of his wand. 

“You're horrible!” 

Neville grinned, “Just let me know and I'll do it. No hesitation.” 

“I promise he's not being pushy,” she said, “He's just brought it up a few times. Heat of the moment stuff. I've just been avoiding the conversation. Believe me, I could hex him if need be.” 

“Oh, I believe you,’’ Neville said, thinking of Ginny's rather infamous Bat Bogey Hex. 

Neville actually did need to study before meeting Theo later, so he and Ginny started working while engaging in some light conversation. Neville had missed spending time with her. 

Neville set down his History of Magic textbook after skimming over the same paragraph four times. “Do you ever read the History of Magic textbook in Binns's voice?” he asked. 

“All the time!” Ginny said, “I don't know how to make myself stop.” 

“If you figure it out, let me know,” Neville said, "Either way, I won't be continuing that class next year."

Hermione entered the common room, locked eyes with Neville, and she started to walk straight towards him. 

“Here we go,” Ginny said under her breath. 

Hermione sat down in a chair next to Neville and let her heavy bag of books plop down at her feet. 

“I spoke to Nott earlier,” she said, breathlessly. 

Neville fought against the urge to roll his eyes. “I told you that wasn't necessary.” 

Ginny looked like she wanted to add something, but she just leveled a glare at Hermione instead. The two girls were ordinarily friendly, but Neville had gathered that the two of them had already argued about Hermione prying into Neville's friendship with Theo. 

“I needed to be sure. I know you can understand that. After what happened with Harry…” Hermione clutched at her skirt, knuckles white. Neville realized that the whites of her eyes were reddened, and the skin under them was puffy. She may have been crying recently and seemed to be on the verge of tears at that moment.  

With a sick twist of his gut, Neville remembered watching Harry tumble onto the field holding Cedric's corpse. How Neville's horrified scream had faded into all the other ones around him. Harry hadn't told Neville exactly what happened in that graveyard, but he had enough pieces of the story to understand why Hermione was feeling so protective towards him. 

Hermione straightened out her hands and tapped her legs. “Anyway,” she said looking directly at Neville, “We spoke and I misjudged him. He's, well, very fond of you, Neville. Protective as well.” 

Neville felt very warm and a bit like he could float off of his seat. 

“He made me realize some things, actually,” Hermione continued, “I'm sorry, Neville. I shouldn't have implied that you weren't worth befriending without some other motive. I should have considered your feelings. You are a good friend. Nott is lucky to have you.” 

Neville's mind was spinning too quickly to come up with a coherent response other than “thanks.” What had Theo said to her? 

“I consider you a friend,’’ Hermione said, “But I know we mostly study together. And I know I can be… overbearing. You're proving you can stand on your own feet and you don't need me to push you. So, truly, I hope I can get to know you more personally. I think a lot of us take you for granted and I want to change that.” 

Neville was overwhelmed. It was everything he had wanted to hear from her for years and apparently it had all come out after a single conversation with Theo. It made him feel happy but a bit embarrassed as well. Just after a few months of knowing Neville, Theo had seen one of his deepest pains, that of rejection, and gone further by managing to make Hermione Granger apologize to him. He hadn't even been sure Hermione was capable of contrition. She was always so sure of herself. 

‘“Yeah, um, wow,” Neville said, stumbling over his words. ‘I would like that. Er, thank you.” 

Hermione nodded and then silence fell awkwardly between them. Ginny didn't offer any commentary either, but judging by her face she was just as shocked as Neville. After a minute or so of the group just blinking at one another, Hermione broke the silence. “I promised that I would meet Harry and Ron in the library, but I'll see you soon, okay? We can make plans to do something that isn't studying for OWLs.” 

“Bold claim,” Neville said, grinning at her. 

Hermione shrugged, “I am capable of having fun occasionally.” She stood up, gathered her bag, gave Neville another intense look, before waving and scampering out of the common room. 

Neville watched her leave, still dazed. Ginny reached over and nudged him. “I told you,” she said in a sing-song, “He fancies you. He has to.” 

Ginny's words rang in Neville's ears as he approached the Room of Requirement after dinner. He saw Theo still eating dinner, thankfully sans Zabini, but Neville wanted to get to the room first. He was desperate to see Theo, to speak to him, to be near him. But at the same time, he was so flooded with anxiety that he considered taking a potion beforehand. 

Could Theo truly fancy Neville? Ginny obviously thought so. Neville replayed their conversation in his head, looking for moments where he may have let his own wishful thinking make his narrative less truthful. He felt like he was being factual, carefully clarifying that even if he felt like Theo was flirting with him, it didn't mean he actually was. Neville was reminded of a note scrawled on the top of one of his recent transfiguration essays, “You don't have to explain yourself so much.” 

There was no solid proof that Theo felt the same way about Neville. If Theo rejected him, how would he ever be able to face him again? It was too risky and while Neville had certainly begun to lean into whatever had caused him to be sorted into Gryffindor, he didn't think he was ready to be quite that brave. 

When he entered the room, the first thing he did was ask the room for a couch in the sitting area. Perhaps it was a small act of bravery. He imagined him sitting there later and the possibility that Theo would forgo the armchairs and choose to sit next to Neville instead. That, somehow, another miracle would occur and they would find their hands tangled together again. 

Flushing scarlet at the thought, Neville approached the training dummies. He practiced the cutting charm, but his mind wouldn't stop drifting away, thinking about how Theo's hand had gripped his knee. Strong hands, indeed. Rather than decisive cuts, Neville's spell was producing shallow scratches. It wouldn't be useful at all in a real fight. But hopefully in a real fight, Neville wouldn't be so distracted thinking about what it would be like to run his fingers through Theo's hair or how soft his lips probably were. 

He tried to push away the very nice images his brain was offering him in an effort to be clear-headed when Theo eventually arrived. If Theo did have feelings for Neville, they would probably crash and burn if Neville started stuttering and bumbling about every time he was near. 

Neville was, of course, immediately aware when Theo entered the room. But in an effort to appear very cool and unbothered, he didn't turn towards the object of his affection until he heard his voice. 

“Cutting people up now, are we? Should I be concerned?” Theo asked dryly. His lips curled into a perfect smirk and Neville instantly melted, because why wouldn't he? 

Neville waved towards the dummy. “I think I'm scratching people up, actually.” 

“Diffindo,” Theo cast towards the dummy. Neville's eyes locked in on how he moved his wand so swiftly yet precisely. The resulting slash on the dummy's abdomen was thick and deep. Some of the stuffing fell to the floor with the impact of the spell. 

It was incredibly attractive. Neville could understand what Ginny had said earlier about girls being interested in him because he was doing well in DA. 

“Show me what you've been doing,” Theo said. Neville stood still for a moment, unable to move. Eventually, he regained control of his limbs, gave his shoulders a shake, and prepared to cast the spell. 

He thought of how Theo had cast the spell. He visualized Theo's confidence and raw power. He tried to emulate that, but it was hard to ignore how his stomach flipped at the mental image. His hand shook as he cast and the resulting cut was a bit deeper than his other attempts, but not clean whatsoever. 

“You still grip your wand too tightly,” Theo chided. He walked up to Neville, reached for his wand hand, and gently peeled Neville's fingers away from the wood. “Trust yourself. Trust your wand. You're not going to drop it.” 

Neville tried his best to behave normally, but Theo was touching his hand again and it was impossible to think or even breathe. His hand trembled against Theo's which caused Theo to study it with a concerned expression. “You're shaking, Neville. Are you alright?” 

“I'm fine,” Neville said weakly, because really he was fine. He just wanted Theo to snog him senseless, that was all. 

“Don't lie to me,” Theo said, his thumb brushing against Neville's knuckles. “Did you bring your potion?” 

“Erm, no. Didn't think I'd need it. Sorry.” 

“Don't worry about it,” Theo said softly, “We'll take a break. You'll pulverize the poor flobberworms in this state.” 

Neville laughed breathily. Theo dropped the hand he was holding, but gently rested it on the small of Neville's back as he led him over to the couch. They both sat on it and Neville internally congratulated himself for his foresight. Neville wished Theo would take his hand again, but they were close enough that their thighs pressed against one another, which was quite nice on its own. 

“I think I just got frustrated,” Neville explained, “With, erm, the spell.” He briefly imagined what kind of face Theo would make if he admitted he was really just panicking because Theo was devastatingly gorgeous and Neville wanted his hands all over him. 

“Hermione, erm, told me she spoke to you. I'm sorry about that. She can be bit…” Neville made a vague twirling gesture with his hand which caused Theo to purse his lips and nod. “But also, thank you. She didn't tell me what you said to her, but I reckon it was impactful.” 

“Nothing but the truth,” Theo said. Hermione's statement from earlier came to mind. 

Tell me how fond you are of me. A friendly fondness? Is your heart racing like mine? 

Neville searched in Theo's eyes for the answers, but none were offered. He just wanted to sink into the warmth of Theo's stare, pick him apart until he was as raw and exposed as Neville felt. Neville tore his eyes away, hopefully before it got too weird. 

“Anyway,” Neville said, his voice coming out a bit rough, “I'm sure you'll see it on the front page of The Daily Prophet in the morning. A Historic Event: Hermione Granger Apologizes.” 

Theo smiled in a self-satisfied way. “She apologized to you?” 

“Yeah,” Neville said, “I guess you had a hand in that?” 

“I told her she should,” Theo said with a shrug. 

Neville felt lighter and a bit braver, so he reached over and ruffled Theo's hair. Thankfully, Theo didn't appear put off by it. He actually leaned into Neville's hand, so Neville kept it there, very tentatively allowing himself to run his fingers through Theo's soft locks. Theo made a noise that made Neville feel like he was on fire and leaned closer, lowering his head so Neville could reach better. 

“My mum used to do that,” Theo said distantly, “I'd put my head in her lap. I forgot how nice it was.” 

“You can,” Neville blurted out stupidly, “Put your head in my lap. If you want.” 

Neville was in danger of combustion at this point, but miraculously Theo didn't laugh at him. He just pulled away for a moment and adjusted himself on the couch so he could lie on his side and place his head in Neville's lap. Wondering if he was dreaming, Neville resumed his petting. They were quiet like that for a while. Neville hadn't really noticed how tensely Theo had been holding himself, until it slowly drained out of him. It felt nice to be useful in this way. Neville felt his tension fading as well, his breathing becoming more steady. 

“Today was far too tedious,” Theo eventually said. 

“Because of Hermione?” 

“It wasn't the most comfortable conversation of my life,’’ Theo said, “but even before that. Irritating.” 

Neville remembered how closely Zabini leaned into Theo's space at breakfast and how uncomfortable Theo had seemed. Instead of asking for him to elaborate, Neville focused on the softness of Theo's dark brown hair against his hand. Reveled in it.  

“You know, Blaise, right? Zabini?’’ Theo asked. Before Neville could respond he said, “Well, obviously you know of him. Same year and all.” 

“Yeah, I haven't really spoken to him before.” 

“We used to be best mates. Then last year…” Theo trailed off, “Last year, we were more than that.” 

As much as Neville hated the visual of Theo snogging Zabini, his heart leapt at the confirmation. Theo liked boys. Not that it meant he liked Neville, but it was a bit of hope to grab onto. 

“But that's all over,” Theo continued, “The feelings are gone and all that. He just burnt me pretty badly, I guess. He's been so different this year. He's always chased after influence, but I thought he had higher standards.” 

Neville couldn't be completely sure what exactly Theo was referring to, but he had seen Zabini hanging closer to Malfoy this year than he ever had previously. 

“And now I'm wondering if he's actually changed or if I've just changed and see him differently,” Theo said, sounding about as vulnerable as Neville had ever heard him. 

“Both things can be true,” Neville said, “Either way, he's an idiot.” 

There was a smile in his voice when Theo replied, “Is that so?” 

“He had someone as nice as you and messed it up,” Neville allowed himself to say, because it was true. “Right fucking numpty he is.” 

Theo guffawed at that. “Right fucking numpty,” he repeated, “If he bothers me again I might have to call him that. He would be scandalized.” 

“He's bothering you?’’ Neville asked, “You know I have a great scratching charm.” 

“He's trying to be helpful, in his own misguided way,” Theo said, “I'll let you know if I need backup.” 

“I'm good in a fight,” Neville said, “I took on Crabbe and Goyle by myself in first year. Muggle style.” 

“Did you really?”

“I did. They knocked me out cold.” 

“Mad. Sometimes I wonder why you're in Gryffindor, then you go saying stuff like that.” 

“I begged for Hufflepuff.” 

“Can you imagine McMillan going up against Vince and Greg like that though? Never. Terminal Gryffindorness, I'm afraid,” Theo said. 

“Sorry to disappoint.” 

“No disappointment,” Theo said lightly, “I still think your house is collectively way too loud, but I like Gryffindor on you.” 

Neville found himself beaming at that. 

“I'm a bad tutor,” Theo said, “I came here to help you, but now I'm just a housecat.” 

Neville did not want to move. Not for anything, especially not for potions. 

“I think my marks would survive if we took a night off.” 

“Good,” Theo said, “Because this is perfect. It's not weird for you, though?” 

“No,” Neville said, “It's lovely.” 

“Lovely,” Theo echoed. 

They spoke less after that, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Neville felt blissfully relaxed in Theo's presence. He still thought about how nice it would be to be able to lean down and press his lips against Theo's cheek, but the thoughts didn't turn into the manic anxiety he had experienced earlier. 

Eventually, Theo stopped talking altogether. His breathing evened out and Neville realized he was sleeping. That knowledge made Neville's heart speed up a bit, but pleasantly so. It felt like trust being offered to him and eventually Neville felt his own eyes droop and fall close as well, a smile on his face.

Chapter Text

It had been a long time since Theodore felt safe. 

In springtime when he was young, the field behind his home would erupt in wildflowers in a dazzling array of colours. His mum would pack them both a picnic lunch and they'd spend entire afternoons there. His mum threaded her fingers through his hair and read poetry to him - muggle poetry, a secret from his father. Theodore would pick wildflowers and braid them into crowns for both of their heads. 

“My little prince!” Antonia Nott would exclaim, pulling a wriggling Theodore into a warm embrace. 

Theodore had been certain that as long as his mum was near, he would never come to harm. So, he followed her like a duckling, always close enough to grasp at her robes. 

Theodore hadn't understood it then. He had no other families to compare to his. But later, he would know that his mother's life was that of darkness and Theodore was the one good thing that she was allowed to cherish. She shielded him from his father's violent ideology and endured all of Yorick Nott's wrath alone. 

Until his father had looked at Theodore and judged him “too soft”. 

When Theodore watched the light leave his mother's eyes, the light in his home had extinguished as well. No escape was offered. The monster was at the door. 

Theodore could remember the warm blanket that was safety. He yearned for it but knew he would never obtain it again. 

Until now. 

It was just fingers- Neville's fingers- in his hair. It shouldn't have had the power to allow Theodore to drop all the things he was holding, and let them crumble to the ground. It was a vulnerability he strangely didn't mind. 

Theodore woke up, warm and disoriented. He wasn't in his bed, but he didn't immediately know where he was. There was something under his head, firmer than his pillow, but still soft and inviting. 

Oh. Neville's thighs. He had fallen asleep with his head in Neville's lap. Blearily, he raised his head, noticing with a spark of embarrassment that he had drooled a bit on Neville's robes. He sat up fully and looked at Neville. He had fallen asleep as well. His head was leaning against the back of the couch, tilted slightly downward and his lips slightly parted. 

Theodore took that opportunity to look at Neville's face closely. He was always cautious not to stare too openly when they were this close. But now, he could fully drink in Neville's appearance, so he did. Neville's entire face was distinctly kissable. His cheeks were precious, so round and rosy. Theodore had noticed them even when he had seen Neville as merely intriguing rather than maddeningly fancible. 

Neville's eyelashes were long and curved, devastatingly gorgeous. His lips, which frequently occupied Theodore's thoughts, were plump and so inviting. He had a dimple in the middle of his chin that Theodore wanted to press his finger into. A triangle of small moles under his left eye that Theodore wanted to trace. 

Before his thoughts got away from him, Theodore glanced down at the watch that adorned Neville's wrist. Watches like that were typically a gift when a wizard came of age. Like Neville's wand, Theodore assumed it had once belonged to his father. Gently, he lifted Neville's wrist to look closer, then cursed when he saw that it was two hours past curfew. 

Neville looked so peaceful that it hurt to wake him. Selfishly, he wondered what the worst thing that could happen if they spent all night there. It wasn't like Filch or anyone else patrolling the halls would find them there. But if they were gone from their beds all night, people were bound to notice. 

So, he gently shook Neville's shoulder and called his name. Theodore realized quickly that Neville was a heavy sleeper and that a gentle shake wouldn't be enough. He increased the pressure of his hand and jostled him with more force. 

Neville blinked into consciousness. “Wha-?” His eyes were glazed and it seemed that, like Theodore, he was determining where he was. A few more blinks and he finally noticed Theodore.

 “Oh, Theo, hi,” Neville said. His voice was soft and sleepy, syrupy sweet. “Sorry,” he mumbled, “Guess I was tired.” 

Neville adjusted his body, rolling his shoulders and stretching out his legs. He was undoubtedly stiff from his impromptu sleeping position. Theodore couldn't help smiling fondly as he watched him, briefly forgetting the reason he had woken Neville up in the first place. 

“Bit of a problem,’’ Theodore said “We slept through curfew.” 

“Shit,” Neville swore. Theodore found that he loved hearing Neville curse. It was strangely adorable. 

Theodore could see panic rising in Neville's eyes, his face growing paler and his breathing becoming uneven. Theodore laid a steady hand on Neville's leg. “It'll be fine,’’ Theodore said, “You have a short walk.” 

“You don't,” Neville countered, “I don't want you to wind up in detention because I couldn't stay awake.” 

“Could be a new experience for me,” Theodore said, more nonchalantly than he felt. He had never had a detention and wasn't especially eager to have one now. But he supposed he could endure it if he needed to. More so, he didn't want Neville to feel badly. “Besides,” he added, “We both fell asleep.” 

“I know,” Neville said frantically, “But I was supposed to stay awake so I could wake you up.” 

The pace of Neville's breath increased. He was close to hyperventilating. So, Theodore squeezed his leg and said “Hey, look at me.” 

Neville turned to him and Theodore wanted nothing more than to drain the panic out of his icy blue eyes, make them content and relaxed again. Theodore crept his hand down to Neville's knee and he gently rubbed there. Neville seemed to melt at the touch and Theodore certainly wanted to explore that later if he could. For now, he knew that he had to help Neville calm down enough to get back to his dorm. 

Neville's shaky hand found Theodore's. Neville closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then another. “I'm okay,” Neville said as he opened his eyes. 

“You're okay,’’ Theodore agreed. 

They let go of each other and got up. Theodore summoned both of their bags to them and they walked towards the door together. It didn't matter if they left together. If someone was patrolling the corridor, they'd both be caught anyway. When they reached the door, Neville asked “Thursday?” with a tilt of his head. 

“Of course,” Theodore said. 

They stepped out into the corridor which was thankfully quiet and empty. They nodded to each other in a quiet farewell and set off in opposite directions. Theodore's heart was beating in his ears as he made his way to the dungeons. It was difficult to both prioritize stealth and speed. Several times, he was sure he heard footsteps in his vicinity, causing him to duck into alcoves and will himself to not even breathe. 

He didn't run into cats, poltergeists, or Hogwarts staff and finally was able to breathe when he reached the Slytherin common room which was eerily empty and silent. He climbed the stairs to his room and let out a relieved sigh when he saw that every four-poster bed had their curtains closed and he could hear Vince's light snoring. 

He grabbed some pajamas from his trunk and tip-toed to the lavatory to prepare for bed. He yawned as he returned to his bed afterward, reaching up to rub his eyes as he slipped out of his shoes. 

Theodore pulled back his curtains and reared back when he found Blaise lounging in his bed, fully clothed, flipping through his copy of Leaves of Grass. 

“Welcome back,” Blaise drawled, “I silenced your curtains. Come on in.” 

Blaise patted the bed and Theodore hissed “Get out”. 

“We need to chat first,” Blaise said, “Come on now.” He gave the bed another pat and Theodore seethed. Glaring daggers at Blaise, Theodore climbed into his bed and closed the curtains behind him. 

Blaise took his time closing Theodore's book and placing it back on the shelf before he finally asked ‘’So, who is he?” 

An embarrassed heat immediately rose from Theodore's chest to his face. “What are you talking about?” he asked, his voice coming out too strained and weak to be convincing. 

“Don't do that,” Blaise said coolly. 

Trying a new angle, Theodore replied “Didn't know you were the jealous type.” 

Blaise's lip twitched, the accusation succeeding in cracking his mask. “This isn't about me,” he said. 

“Correct,” Theodore said, “It's none of your business. Nothing I do is anymore. You need to get that through your head.” 

“You know,’’ Blaise said, “I never took you for an idiot. But apparently whoever you're messing around with sucked your brain out of your cock. I'm not the only person who noticed you missed curfew. Caused quite a stir here actually.” 

“I didn't know I was so interesting to your lot these days,” Theodore remarked. 

“Draco noticed that you lingered with Granger after Ancient Runes today. He had some creative theories about that,” Blaise said. 

“We were just talking about the homework,” Theodore lied. 

“Oh, I set them straight about that,” Blaise said. When Theodore's eyes widened at that, Blaise added “Don't worry. I didn't tell them about your preferences. Just talked about what a swot you are. Still, rumors can,” he lifted a finger and waved it in a circular motion, “spiral.” 

“What do you want from me, Blaise?” Theodore said stiffly. 

Blaise leaned back lazily. “The truth, preferably. I'm trying to help you.” 

“Seems like you're threatening me.” 

“Not at all,” Blaise said, “but Draco is awfully put out by how you've been rejecting him all year long.” 

“We've never been friends,” Theodore said, “I don't know why he thought I would bow to him now that he has the world's worst houseguest.” 

“His family is favoured by the Dark Lord,” Blaise began. 

“It's not favour, it's chains,’’ Theodore spat out, “I want no part of it.” 

“Be that as it may, Draco is considering writing to his father about you. And we both know who his father frequently sees these days.” 

Theodore's blood went cold. “We don't talk about my father,” he said. It was a boundary he had set with both Blaise and Daphne long ago and Theodore's chest clenched at how coldly it had just been trampled. 

“Maybe it's time we did,” Blaise said, “Because you're obviously terrified of him, but not enough to fall in line when it's called for.” 

Dread pooled in Theodore's gut. Trying to be discreet, he wiped his sweaty palms against his bedclothes. “How dare you use him against me,’’ Theodore said, voice low and cold. 

“For fuck's sake,” Blaise grit out, “I'm just illuminating the situation for you, Theo. I don't want you to get hurt.” 

“I can take care of myself.” 

“Let me help you, Theo,” Blaise said, his voice breaking. “I care about you, you fucking idiot. And I know that if I hadn't made… certain decisions last year, you wouldn't be so reckless right now.” 

Theodore scoffed at that. “A bit full of ourselves, are we?” 

“You would be here. With me. You would be safe,” Blaise continued, ignoring Theodore's snipe. 

“Well,” Theodore said, keeping his tone flat, “You made a decision. You can't have it both ways.” 

Truthfully, Theodore thought that even if Blaise hadn't gone through with the betrothal, their relationship wouldn't have survived The Dark Lord rising again. He was the only boy in their dorm whose family wasn't associated with Lord Voldemort, and he was painfully naive to the reality of that association. Instead, he saw hints of power and tried to cling to it, not seeming to understand the lives that were on the line. 

“I know,’’ Blaise said softly, “I know I can't fix what happened with us. Just let me help you now. If you're with someone that wouldn't be approved of, I can help you cover your tracks. But I can't help you if you don't tell me who he is.” 

“I'm not with anyone,” Theodore said, because he wasn't with Neville. He was his tutor. He was his friend. 

A friend he held hands with. And napped with, felt safe with, and wanted so fiercely that whatever he once felt for Blaise felt minuscule in comparison. 

Maybe Blaise's offer was truly altruistic. Perhaps he really wanted Theodore to be happy and was willing to lie and scheme for him to make that possible. But if something was blooming between Theodore and Neville, he wanted to hold it closely until he fully understood it. He didn't want to subject it to any sort of scorn. 

“Okay,” Blaise said with a defeated air, “Just talk to me when you're ready to be honest. My offer expires when you've dug a hole you can't get out of.” Blaise moved to leave.

“I really do think you'd be safer in Sweden,” Theodore said, “Since you have that option.” 

Blaise smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. “I have nothing to be afraid of,” he said, climbing out of Theodore's bed, “But I think you do.” 

Blaise closed the curtains as he left, leaving Theodore alone and feeling sick to his stomach. He tried to distract himself with more pleasant memories of the evening, recalling the feel of Neville's hand in his hair, the warmth of his presence, and the sound of his laughter. 

But those thoughts kept being interrupted by his father's face, twisted into a snarl. A wand raised to Theodore, glowing red at the tip. 

“This is for your own good.” 

Eventually, he fell into a fitful sleep, red flashing behind his eyes, his nerves on fire with phantom pain. 

Theodore didn't sleep any better the next night and he moved through Thursday heavy with exhaustion. Since his conversation with Blaise, he always seemed to be lingering near. Theodore was positively desperate to see Neville that evening, but he worried that Blaise would try to follow him. 

Theodore also wanted to talk to Daphne. He was curious if Blaise had spoken to her about his suspicions. He knew that she wouldn't give anything away, he mainly wondered if she had a clearer view of Blaise's motivations. It was difficult to believe he was being straightforward. He also wanted to just spill all his thoughts about Neville to a sympathetic ear. He knew that she would tease him relentlessly for freaking out so much about holding hands of all things, but he thought it might be nice. 

Lately, Daphne seemed to be constantly at Tracey's side. They had been friends before, but never as close as they seemed now. Tracey had grown into herself over the previous summer. She had arrived back at Hogwarts with her hair cut short and now moved with a confidence and swagger that rivaled many of the pureblood princes of Slytherin. Daphne also seemed lighter in her presence, not wracked with anxiety like she had been when she had been trying to piece Theodore and Blaise back together. 

He missed her, all the same. 

At dinner, Theodore managed to give Blaise the slip when he was caught up in a conversation with Draco. When he arrived to the Room of Requirement, he found Neville already sitting in the potions lab, looking at his textbook. 

Theodore claimed the stool next to Neville and allowed himself to relax. “Hi there,’’ he said. 

“Hullo Theo,” Neville said. He looked over at Theodore, his eyes tracing over his face. “You look exhausted,” he said, “Do you need to lie down?” 

“I'm okay,” Theodore said, “Haven't been sleeping well lately, but I'm committed to actually being a decent tutor today.” 

“As opposed to a house cat,” Neville said with a crooked smile. 

“I thought you liked the house cat,” Theodore said. 

“I do,” Neville said lightly, eyes returning to his book, “Good day for you to help me master a sleeping draught, then?” 

There was a heat in Theodore's chest that demanded he immediately seize Neville and kiss him senseless, but instead he said “Try not to poison me, will you?” 

Neville looked up again and Theodore gave him what he hoped was a winning smirk. “I'll do my best not to put you to sleep forever. I'd like to keep you around,” Neville said. 

Neville set his textbook on the stand and got up to gather ingredients while Theodore tried to steady the fluttering of his heart. Was that flirting? 

As Neville began his work, Theodore watched, offering comments as needed. The heat from the cauldron and the fumes of the potion made Theodore's eyelids grow heavier. He must have dozed off at some point, because he jolted when he heard a strangled “Theo!” from beside him. 

Theodore leaped to his feet, anticipating disaster, but the cauldron had not overflowed or exploded, the potion just happened to be an odd puce colour. 

“I don't know what I did,” Neville said, “I just added the valerian root. It's supposed to be lavender.” 

Theodore peered into the cauldron. “I think it just needs more valerian root,” he said. 

Neville looked relieved. “One of the ones I used looked a bit thin,” he said. He went over to the ingredients and retrieved another root and began chopping it with his potions knife. 

“A little smaller,” Theo commented. 

Once the root was chopped, Neville added a small amount, his eyes squinted in concentration. When it dropped into the cauldron, the colour changed ever so slightly. 

“Add just a bit more and stir,” Theodore said. 

Neville did so and the potion turned lavender. Neville let out a relieved sigh. “Thanks,” he said. 

“It's what I'm here for,” Theodore said.

There were just a few steps left and it wasn't long until Neville presented a vial of the potion to Theodore with a hopeful expression. “Please don't actually drink it if I fucked it up,” he said. 

Theodore turned the vial in his hand, examining the color and the thickness of the brew inside. He unstoppered it and lifted it to his nose for a quick sniff before pushing the stopper back inside. “I think I'll sleep well tonight,” he said. 

Neville beamed at him. 

Part of Theodore wanted to retire to the dorms immediately. He was so bone tired, but there was still an hour and a half until curfew and he wasn't ready to leave Neville just yet. 

Neville sat on the couch with his Herbology textbook while Theodore flipped through the records for something interesting. He caught sight of a record with golden trees on the cover that sparked a vague familiarity. He put it on the gramophone and sat down next to Neville who smiled softly as a chorus of female voices began softly singing. 

“Celtic Witches Choir,’’ he said. 

‘“I think my mum had this one,” Theodore said. 

His mother's possessions disappeared overnight after her passing. Theodore had barely managed to grab a few scraps to prove she had even existed to begin with. Feeling heavy with the sudden memory, Theodore lowered his head into Neville's lap. Neville's finger immediately threaded through his hair. 

“You miss her,” Neville said softly. 

“Constantly,” Theodore said. 

Neville continued petting him. “You can talk about her,’’ he said, “If you want to.” 

Theodore's throat felt tight. “She was so good, Neville. Sometimes I wish…” he swallowed thickly, “Maybe if she had been a bit more selfish or crueler, she'd still be here. Is that horrible?” 

If only she had loved Theodore a bit less… perhaps he could have coped with that. 

“No,” Neville said. His voice was a bit distant and Theodore thought he must have been thinking of his own mother now, mindless in a hospital bed. 

Theodore felt selfish then. He had nine beautiful years with his mother, vibrant and alive. Neville's mother was still alive, but he had never really had her.

“I think things may get really bad soon,” Neville said, “I might survive longer if I choose to be selfish or cruel, but I don't want to be. Dead or alive, I want to remain myself. Maybe she would feel the same.” 

“I wish you could have met my mum,’’ Theodore said, “She would have loved you.” 

“Well,” Neville said, “Maybe you could meet mine someday. She doesn't have much to say really, but she's nice. She'll probably give you a bunch of gum wrappers.” 

It was inexplicable, the grief and hope tangled together. “I would be honored.” 

“You're exhausted,” Neville said, “it's okay if you nap again. I'll make sure to wake you up this time.” 

“Okay,” Theodore said wearily. 

The sensation of Neville's hand in his hair coupled with the soft music from the gramophone allowed him to drift off into a calm slumber. True to his word, Neville gently woke him a bit later. As they left, Theodore considered asking if Neville wanted to meet up over the weekend, but lost his nerve. 

“Tuesday, then?” Neville said, verbally confirming their next meeting as always. 

“Wouldn't miss it,” Theodore said. 

When Theodore returned to the Slytherin dorms, he bypassed the groups of people chatting and studying in the common room to go straight to bed. As he left the bathroom, he and Blaise crossed paths. They said nothing, but Blaise fixed him with a searching look before brushing past him. 

Once Theodore was in bed, he got out the potion Neville had made him and drank a dose. He slept well that night, almost as well as he did when Neville was near.  

Chapter Text

As fall term came to a close, Neville's responsibilities piled up. Between classes, coursework, DA meetings, and tutoring sessions with Theo, he barely had time to breathe. The assignments being doled out by their professors bordered on sadism, in Neville's opinion. Supposedly, they were just trying to prepare the students as much as possible for the rigor of OWL examinations. If things were this relentless in the spring, Neville thought it might kill him. 

“Will you write my eulogy when OWLs kill me?” Neville asked Theo. 

They sat on the floor of the Room of Requirement, surrounded by textbooks and parchment. Lately, their time together was dominated by studying, conversation topics limited to the massive stack of assignments they were expected to complete. 

“Absolutely not, because you won't be dying,” Theo said, “In fact, you're going to do so well on your exams, they'll erect a statue in the courtyard in your honor.” 

Neville snorted. “I think you're talking about yourself, you swot.” 

Theo's relentless pursuit of knowledge could only be rivaled by that of one Hermione Granger. Idly, Neville wondered what would have happened if Theo and Hermione had ended up in Ravenclaw together and teamed up from the start. 

“You're a bit of a swot now, too,” Theo commented. 

“Because of you,” Neville grumbled good-naturedly. 

Neville's approach to schoolwork had shifted. Before, except for Herbology, he completed his assignments out of obligation. More and more, he found himself becoming genuinely excited about his essays, becoming delighted by a new kernel of information gained from a library book. Often, he would have to quell the urge to latch onto a new piece of research and leave the rest of his coursework in the dust. He absolutely blamed Theo for this. 

Most of their time together was spent hard at work, but still, a small ritual had developed. As curfew crept closer, Theo would abandon his books and place his head in Neville's lap, sometimes even boldly swatting Neville's work away in the process with a scampish smile. 

For that short period, they would talk about other things- their mutual annoyance with Draco Malfoy, disgust at Umbridge's latest fashion choices, tiny stories from their pasts. 

Neville realized that for the first time, he wasn't looking forward to the holiday break. It was always nice to have a break from school, even with having to endure the hurtful comments of his family. But now, he didn't want to spend all that time away from Theo. Selfishly, he imagined being able to spend the holidays in the castle with Theo. They could spend all day in the Room of Requirement, talking and laughing. Bundle up and take walks on the grounds. Have snowball fights and hot chocolate with the house elves. Wizard crackers and maybe even mistletoe. 

The last DA meeting of the year turned into a Christmas party, with Harry hilariously trying to hide the themed decor his house-elf friend Dobby had made. Neville enjoyed himself. He was pulled into several conversations, had a spirited debate with Hermione about Gamp's law, listened to Terry Boot's gossip, and even danced with Luna. All the same, he wished Theo was there. 

Dobby had hung mistletoe discreetly through the room and occasionally two people would find themselves underneath, encouraged to kiss by the cheers of the other partygoers. Neville studiously avoided it. He didn't want his first kiss to be with anyone around him. He only had one person in mind. 

As the party ended and people began taking their leave, Cho Chang stayed back, waiting rather conspicuously for Harry. It was a bit of an odd coupling, considering that Harry had witnessed the death of her last boyfriend and still sometimes called out his name desperately in his sleep. But maybe they could be a comfort to each other. Neville supposed he wasn't in a position to judge. 

Ginny, however, seemed to be in a bit of a snit as they walked back to Gryffindor Tower together. She had spent the evening dancing and sharing kisses with Michael, looking happy as could be, but her mood had darkened quickly. She was demonstrating a fair amount of jealousy for someone who called her to be completely over her “Potter Thing”. 

“Chang thinks she's so great,” she commented. 

Neville didn't think this was true. He didn't know Cho all that well, but she didn't seem conceited at all. Usually, she seemed quite lonely. Still, he didn't think it wise to contradict Ginny in her current state so he changed the subject instead. 

“Seemed like you were having a good time with Michael tonight,” Neville said, “Everything going good? Is he still bothering you about… you know?” 

“Everything's fine,” Ginny snapped. 

“Oh, that's good then,” Neville said cautiously, a bit taken aback by her tone. 

Ginny's expression softened as she turned to look at Neville. “Sorry,” she said, “I don't know what's come over me. I'm just, I dunno, irritated.”

“Do you want to know what I think?” Neville offered. 

Ginny stuffed her hands into the pockets of her robes. “I don't think I'm ready for that, honestly.” 

“Well, whenever you want to talk about it, I'm here.” 

Ginny hummed, her brows furrowed and her expression dark. Eventually, she offered Neville a tight smile and asked “How about Nott, though? How are things going with that?” 

“Good,” Neville said, “I mean, nothing new has happened. But just being around him is really nice. We're meeting up tomorrow.” 

They didn't have any more work to do, so they were just meeting to spend time together. The thought that Theo just wanted to see him once more before the break made Neville feel light. 

“Should have snagged some mistletoe,” Ginny teased. 

Neville had spent quite a bit of time fantasising about meeting Theo under the mistletoe, in a corridor, in the Room of Requirement, and even in a broom closet for some reason. But deep down, he knew that if Theo ever kissed him, Neville wanted him to do it completely because Theo wanted, not influenced by a plant. 

That night, Neville and the rest of his dorm mates were startled awake by the sound of Harry's screaming. It was a sickening sight, Harry curled up clutching at his bleeding scar and begging for help. He had dreamed that Ron's dad had been attacked by a giant snake, which ended up being true. Harry and the Weasleys were gathered up and left the castle that night. Neville felt bad that he didn't see Ginny off. He decided to write to her as soon as possible.

Anxiety kept him up the rest of the night. He and Dean ended up playing exploding snap in his bed, curtains charmed closed to keep out Seamus, who was being so obnoxious about the whole thing that even his best mate was sick to death of him. 

By the morning, rumors were spiraling about the events of the night. A lot of people he barely knew seemed to think Neville would be a good source of information, so he spent much of the day brushing people off and anticipating meeting Theo after dinner. 

His heart was a bit giddy as he entered the Room of Requirement that evening. Theo was already lounging on the couch holding something wrapped in gold paper in his lap. Curious, Neville sat next to him and offered a breathy “Hi.” 

“I know it's early, but I brought your presents. I was worried about sending one of them in the post,” Theo said, handing the package to Neville. 

Neville looked down at it, a bit awestruck. He had already bought a present for Theo, but he hadn't expected anything in return. He had hoped Theo would get him something, but there was the persistent nagging thought that all of this meant so much more to Neville than Theo, so why would he want to buy Neville a gift? 

But there was a present in front of Neville now. Theo had even said presents. Plural. Neville tried to not let too much of his eagerness show as he unwrapped it to reveal the contents. The first thing he saw was a pair of emerald green potion gloves. He lifted them out, noting that they were luxuriously soft to the touch and probably quite expensive. 

“They're, erm, charmed to keep your hands steady,” Theo said. 

Neville's heart immediately started to race. He turned to look at Theo, the gloves hanging limply from his hands, too touched to even speak. There was a lump in Neville's throat and he took a shaky breath, determined to not cry over the thoughtfulness. 

“They're perfect, Theo. Thank you,” Neville said. He pulled the gloves on, feeling a tingle that he assumed was the charm going into effect. 

The other gift was a light green hardcover book with the title “Leaves of Grass”. 

“It's poetry,” Theo said, “My favourite book. I, erm, thought you might like it. I've had it for ages so there's annotations and things like that.” 

Theo's face was flushed and his eyes kept moving between Neville and the book. 

“I love it,” Neville said. It was so personal, so vulnerable, Neville couldn't help but treasure it. He couldn't recall ever feeling this emotional over a gift. Neville had received plenty of gifts in his life, but this was the first time it felt like something chosen for the person that he was, rather than the person the gifter thought he ought to be. 

“May I hug you?” Neville blurted out. Immediately he was burning with embarrassment. 

“Of course,” Theo said. His expression was one Neville had never seen before and he couldn't quite parse out the emotion behind it. 

Neville set the present and the wrapping paper next to him and hesitantly opened his arms. Theo moved towards him, fast, and wrapped Neville into his arms. Neville returned the embrace, his heart pounding. The closeness muddled his mind. Theo felt so soft and warm. He was wearing cologne, something woodsy and heady that Neville couldn't get enough of. Theo sighed and pulled Neville even closer. 

Neville had never been hugged like this before, never pulled so close or held so tightly. He rested his head on Theo's shoulder and breathed, delighting in the sensation of Theo's hand trailing up his spine. They stayed like that for quite a while and when they eventually moved apart, Neville had to stretch his arms and legs. 

Neville looked over at Theo, who had a distant look in his eyes. 

“I don't want to leave tomorrow,” Theo said breathlessly, “I want to…” His mouth closed, leaving the sentence unfinished. He was clasping his hands together in his lap and Neville realized with a start that Theo was afraid. 

Neville had fallen apart of Theo plenty of times at this point, but he had never seen Theo like this. Theo was always so good at pulling Neville back together, but now Neville had no idea what to do to help him. 

“Hey,” Neville said. When Theo looked at him, Neville adjusted his posture and patted his lap in invitation. Immediately, Theo laid down, but instead of turning to the side as he normally did, he laid flat on his back, his warm eyes gazing up at Neville. When Neville put his hand in his hair, Theo sighed and his eyes fluttered closed. 

“Sorry,” Theo said eventually, “I don't want to ruin our evening. I panicked a bit, I guess.” 

“Not ruined,” Neville said, “You know I'm in a perpetual state of panic. I guess it was your turn.” 

Theo let out a shaky laugh. “Way back in first year, I told Daphne and Blaise that my father was an off limit topic of conversation,” he said. 

“So, it's off limits with me, then?” Neville asked.

“No,” Theo said and there was a twist in Neville's chest at that. “It's just hard to talk about him. I mean, I don't ever. Only with you.” 

Neville remembered the day well, the first time they had exchanged secrets. Theo's father had killed Theo's mum. Neville realized that he was probably the only person Theo had shared that with. It was heavy knowledge to hold. 

Hagrid had returned from his sabbatical recently and the first lesson he had given had been on thestrals, the skeletal horses that pulled the carriages at Hogwarts. He, Theo, and Harry were the only ones in class who could see them. Neville hadn't realized Theo had seen his mother die. Neville had been by his grandad's bedside when he passed. It was sad, but peaceful. Theo had never said how his mother was killed, but it made Neville's chest ache to imagine him witnessing something so horrible. And now, Theo would be spending three weeks alone in a house with that monstrous man. 

“I don't want you to think I'm weak,” Theo said softly. 

“Well, that would be a bit hypocritical of me, I think,” Neville said. 

Theo's eyes opened and he gazed up at Neville with a searching look. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean, I'm useless most of the time,” Neville said with a laugh, “but you still like me for some reason.” 

“No,” Theo said firmly. His gaze was intense as he raised an arm and gently trailed two fingers down Neville's cheek. Neville trembled slightly at the touch. 

“You aren't useless at all,” Theo said.

A lifetime of memories contradicting that came to mind. There was his uncle dropping him out of a window, him nearly drowning at sea. His Gran's disappointed stares, constant comparisons to his perfect father. How his classmates teased him throughout the years. Fat crybaby. Practically a squib. Idiot. Useless. He thought of Professor Snape looming over him and snarling. 

“I mean it,” Theo said, his voice cutting through Neville's painful memories. “You're the best person I know. People don't treat you properly and I want to hex their faces off for it.” 

Neville found himself smiling. “Hexes aren't necessary.” 

“See,” Theo said, “There you go, being a good person. I'm not a good person.” 

Neville looked down at the gloves still on his hands and begged to differ. 

“I try very hard to be good,” Theo amended, “but it comes naturally to you.” 

“A lot of people don't try at all,” Neville said. 

Theo answered with a small hum. He appeared much more relaxed now, but Neville kept thinking about how scared he had looked earlier. 

Theo's father had killed his own wife. He had most likely murdered plenty more people at Lord Voldemort's command. What was he capable of doing to his own son? 

Neville wasn't so sure about him being a good person, because just the speculation made him want to violently rip Theo's father apart. 

“We can write to each other over the holidays?” Theo asked. 

“Of course,” Neville said, feeling a wave of relief that Theo was offering to stay in contact. “And, erm, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. About your dad. But if you need to leave, please write to me. I'll do whatever needs to be done, Theo. I'll blast off someone's bollocks if I need to.” 

Theo stared up at Neville with a blank expression and then fell into a fit of laughter. “Blast off someone's bollocks?” he wheezed. 

“It's a good thing for the spell arsenal,” Neville said with a crooked smile. 

“Merlin,” Theo said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, “The things you say sometimes.” 

“You say I'm a good person, but I'm actually quite dark and twisted,” Neville said with false solemnity. 

“Oh yeah?” Theo raised an eyebrow. 

“Yep,” Neville said “I lure them in with kindness and then without warning, bam! I take their bollocks.” 

“Take them?” Theo giggled. “Are you making a collection?”

“Remove, I mean,” Neville said, “Pulverize. Destroy. Dark wizard stuff.” 

“Well, you won't be getting anywhere near my bollocks any time soon,” Theo said lightly. 

Neville's cheeks immediately started to burn furiously. Because “any time soon” implied something different than “not ever”. Neville desperately tried to not read into the phrasing too much, especially since Theo's head was still resting in his lap. 

“I wouldn't do that to you,” Neville said, “Everyone else is fair game though.” 

“So we shall be the only two wizards with bollocks left standing,” Theo said with gravitas. “You know, that would mean we'd be responsible for repopulation.” 

Neville shuddered. “Never mind, I shall amend my dark wizard plans.” 

Theo laughed and Neville realized that he had never even mentioned that he was gay. Theo had told him about Zabini, but Neville hadn't come out. What if Theo thought he was straight? 

“You are gay, right?” Theo asked, as if he had plucked the thoughts right out Neville’s head “I mean, I heard a rumor awhile back but I don't want to assume anything.”

“Oh yeah, I am,” Neville said. Then after a pause added “A rumor? From whom?” 

“Terry Boot,” Theo replied. 

Neville laughed. “Of course,” he said, “He is such a relentless gossip. I was just talking to him last night. I have no idea where he gets the information he has.” 

“Ooh,” Theo said looking mischievous, “Tell me something juicy.” 

Although they were the only people in the room, Neville leaned down and whispered “Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint. Quidditch showers.” 

Theo's jaw dropped. “No fucking way.” 

“Apparently it was a hate sex thing, but Terry reckons there's feelings involved now.” 

“Impossible,” Theo scoffed. 

“Just passing on unsubstantiated rumors,” Neville said with a wave of his hand. 

Theo's dark mood had broken and they spent the rest of the time leading up to curfew exchanging ridiculous rumors they had heard about their classmates. When it was time for them to leave, Theo had pulled Neville into another hug, completely unprompted. It wasn't nearly as long as their first hug, but it was still quite nice. 

Back at the dorm, Neville placed his new gloves rather reverently into his trunk. Neville brought the book into his bed with him. He smiled when he saw the inscription: This book is the property of: Theodore Gaius Nott. But Theo had crossed out his own name and replaced it with Neville Longbottom. He had also written a note on the next page in a loopy scrawl. 

Happy Christmas Neville. 

You contain multitudes. 

Theo 

With a small gasp, Neville saw why Theo was worried about sending the book in the post. Theo had pressed flowers between nearly every page of the book. If Neville had felt overwhelmed when he first got the gift, this sent him toppling over the edge. Theo didn't think he was good or kind, but his softness was right there on display with every carefully pressed wildflower and underlined passage. If Neville contained multitudes, Theo did too. 

Chapter Text

Theodore boarded the Hogwarts Express on unsteady feet. 

During his first year at Hogwarts, he had been excited to go home for Christmas. Childishly, he had believed that he would have a nice holiday. Perhaps his father had missed him and was eager to spend time with him. Very quickly, those assumptions were proven false. He never made that mistake again. 

It was frustrating that his father, who clearly despised his company, still insisted on Theodore returning home every year. It was a power play, obviously, but overall it just seemed like a waste of energy. Especially now his father was once again at the Dark Lord's beck and call. Theodore tried his best to stop wondering if Draco had ever sent that letter Blaise said he was threatening to write. If Theodore's father was able to extend so much cruelty towards him now, when he was in all appearances a dutiful son, how much more would be unleashed if he found out Theodore was actively defying him? 

Theodore was led into a compartment with Daphne and Tracey. He immediately sat next to the window and pressed his cheek against the cool glass, trying to hold back the bile rising in his throat. Daphne had been shooting him concerned looks throughout the morning, but she knew better than to ask questions. 

Theodore had been so close to telling Neville everything. He felt so raw, so disgusting, for breaking apart in front of Neville. Completely unworthy of being pieced back together so tenderly by Neville's gentle hands. 

Neville, who never pushed Theodore for anything, but somehow had Theodore willingly spilling almost every secret thought he had tucked away. 

Deep down, Theodore knew he was being hypocritical. He didn't judge Neville for his anxiety; it wasn't his fault. Yet, Theodore saw his own as a deeply personal weakness. 

Daphne and Tracey had been talking the entire time, but their voices were muted and unintelligible to Theodore's ears. Blearily, he peeled his face off the window and attempted to be present. 

Daphne and Tracey were sitting closely, Tracey leaned back in her seat talking about Quidditch- something Theodore knew Daphne had no interest in, but she was watching Tracey intently and hanging on to every word. Daphne never faked her interest so it was strange, until Theodore realized with a jolt that it wasn't the words being said, it was the person speaking them. As Tracey spoke, Daphne reached forward and grasped one of the many gold necklaces Tracey had hanging from her neck and began twirling it in her hand. Daphne was looking at Tracey like… well, frankly how Theodore assumed he looked at Neville. 

Oh. Interesting. 

Perhaps it was daft, but Theodore had always assumed Daphne was straight.  Then again, she had never mentioned having a crush on anyone. Until Neville, Theodore had never talked to her about his crushes either. When things had started up with Blaise, she had just picked up on the shift immediately and gave them a sly “Well, it's about time you stopped dancing around each other. It was becoming tedious.” 

When Tracey got up to pop off to the lavatory, Theodore scooted closer to Daphne and smiled slyly. “What's going on there, then?” 

Daphne was still looking at the door Tracey had just exited with a dazed smile on her lips. “I dunno,” she said distantly. She turned to face Theodore, palms digging into her periwinkle robes. “I'm pretty sure I fancy her if that's what you're asking.” 

Theodore tried and failed to not make a big deal out of it. He was practically vibrating in his seat. “Are you going to tell her?” he asked. 

“Maybe? I dunno,’’ Daphne said. She narrowed her eyes at Theodore, “And don't you dare tell me I ought to confess, Mr. Utterly Besotted but won't say anything about it.” 

“That's fair,’’ Theodore said with a shrug.

Daphne had a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. “Any new developments?”

Theodore was suddenly alight with eagerness to share and analyze every word and touch they'd shared, but he stuck to the basics. “Well, we've held hands a bit. He, erm, plays with my hair pretty frequently? And last night we hugged. Twice.” 

Daphne giggled. “When did you get so innocent and precious?” 

Theodore sputtered “Am not!” 

Daphne rolled her eyes. “Whatever, it's cute. Holding hands and petting each other… you and Blaise didn't even do that sort of thing. And you still don't think he's interested in you?” 

There had been moments that were so charged, that Theodore could believe that all the thoughts in Neville's head mirrored his own. But still, there was a lack of proof. No complete confirmation. Neville had rapidly become so important. How could Theodore risk scaring him away on a hunch? 

The compartment door slid open to reveal Tracey who casually flopped down next to Daphne. 

“You alright, Theo?” Tracey asked, “You're looking a bit peaky.” 

“He's just in love,” Daphne said. 

Theodore's mouth fell open. “Daphne!” 

“I didn't say with whom!” Daphne said, crossing her arms. “Besides, Tracey isn't nosey like I am. She never asks questions. I would have more luck gossiping with a flobberworm.”

Tracey nodded. “Although, I hope it's not Blaise again. He's been a right prat this year.” 

Theodore looked at Daphne incredulously. “You told her?” 

Tracey scoffed. “No, she didn't. I just happen to be a person who possesses eyes. Also, you were kind of a shitty Yule Ball date that disappeared on me halfway through the night. So, when I tried to find you I stumbled upon you and Blaise with your legs tangled and sticking out of a hedge.” 

Daphne clasped her hands together in glee. “You never told me you snogged in the hedges!” 

Theodore ignored Daphne and said, “I'm sorry I was a bad date.” 

“No big deal,” Tracey said airily, “I just went off and had a gay awakening of my own. It was fine.” 

“Svetlana,” Daphne said with a hand cupped around her mouth. She gave Tracey a teasing look which was rewarded with a playful swat. Theodore couldn't imagine being that casual about one of Neville's past relationships. 

“A gay awakening is always nice,” Theodore drawled, giving Daphne a pointed look that made her glow crimson and rapidly change the subject. 

Once the train made it to the platform, Theodore disembarked and set off reluctantly to locate his father. He wasn't difficult to find. Theodore had inherited his height from him, so like his son, he looked over the crowd. Theodore allowed himself to search for one last glance at Neville amongst the throng and found him approaching his intimidating grandmother. Neville was slumped over as he walked and it made him look distinctly younger. 

“Hello Father,” Theodore said stiffly, trying to twist his expression to something that resembled happiness. 

“Theodore, you're looking well,” his father replied, before taking him by the elbow and apparating them both directly into the entrance hall of Nott Manor. 

Theodore barely had time to catch his breath before his father said “I'll be in my study,” and left Theodore standing alone with his trunk. 

Nott Manor was a distinctly cold and impersonal space. The home was ancient, with walls and floors both made of stone. One would think that it would be overflowing with treasures from generations of Notts, but the family had never been ostentatious. Theodore's mum had made it more lively, decorating the walls with art and bringing in a variety of figurines and houseplants. Theodore looked into an empty dusty corner and imagined the statue of two intertwined dolphins that used to stand there before the whole house had been purged of his mother's influence. Psyche and Eros - she had called them. All the things that remained were dusty and ancient. Ratty curtains, uncomfortable furniture with faded upholstery, and a few goblin-made swords hanging on the wall.  

Theodore lugged his trunk up to his bedroom. There were touches of Theo throughout the room, mainly demonstrated by photos of his friends on the walls and a shelf full of books. Daphne had gifted him a tapestry for his wall for his last birthday which depicted a waterfall in a dark forest. It was enchanted to move and if close enough one could hear the soft roar of the water, smell the damp earth. He had hung it so he could watch it from his bed. The glow of the waterfall was comforting when the rest of the room grew so dark at night. 

Theodore began to unpack some of the contents of his trunk, mainly pulling out some clothes and the books he would need to complete the assignments he had over the holiday. His body thrummed with restless energy. Neville had said they could write to each other over the break, but Theodore felt like perhaps sending a letter less than an hour after he got home would be excessive. 

Dear Neville, 

I have returned home. My father is ignoring me for now. Come get me anyway. 

Theodore shook the thought out of his head. The image of Neville appearing in Nott Manor to whisk Theodore away, raining down spell fire, was more than a bit arousing. But Theodore knew his life wasn't in true danger and he hoped to keep Neville as far away from his father as humanly possible. Neville was turning into a fine duelist, but he wasn't on par with a Death Eater with decades of experience on him. 

Standing in the middle of his bedroom, Theodore breathed shakily. It was the calm before the storm, he knew. He couldn't count on his father readily ignoring him for two whole weeks, although he seemed occupied at present. It would probably be best if he just got started on his coursework. He sat down at his desk and trailed his finger over the assortment of textbooks he had set upon it. The charms essay would probably be easy enough to start with, but he couldn't will himself to crack open the book and unroll his parchment. He considered going down to the potions lab and brewing the remedies he would undoubtedly need later on. His feet remained rooted to the floor. 

What was Neville doing now? Did he have family visiting for the holidays or was he alone with his grandmother? He probably lived in a large house as well. Hopefully, it was warmer than Theodore's. Did Neville have a greenhouse at home? Was he there now, shirtsleeves rolled up, nurturing new life to grow? 

Theodore slept fitfully. He dreamed hazy dreams of running barefoot through the Forbidden Forest, thestrals devouring raw meat, him licking damp potting soil from Neville's neck. 

He woke up thoroughly cocooned in his bedclothes, the satin clinging to his skin, the chill of his bedroom doing nothing to erase the heat enveloping his body. Theodore put a hand in his hair and pulled gently, imagining it was Neville's hand. He thought about the day he had walked in on Neville shooting stunners at dummies, how the muggle shirt he wore that day beautifully exposed his throat and collarbones, his flushed cheeks…

Theodore wiggled in an attempt to free his legs, to expose his rapidly overheating body to the cool air. His breath hitched as he touched his neck, his chest, moved his hand lower all while remembering holding Neville close to him, how he smelled like lemongrass and fresh herbs. 

Theodore was considering going out to throw himself into a snowbank in an effort to cool off when he heard the distinct sound of a talon tapping at his window. It was a bit of a struggle, but he managed to get fully unwrapped so he could open his window. At the tap, he had hoped for a letter from Neville, something tangible to prove he was thinking of him too. Instead, it was a familiar barn owl, Kismet, who belonged to Daphne. 

Kismet flew into Theodore's bedroom, shaking a dusting of snow from her wings onto the floor. There was a perch in his room for visiting owls, which Kismet was very familiar with. She went straight there and Theodore fished out a couple of owl treats from the perch's attached bag to feed to her while he retrieved his letter. 

Theo, 

I hope your break is decent so far. Unfortunately, shortly after I arrived home, Astoria fell ill. Father called in a healer, but it was determined she would be best treated at St Mungo’s. Currently the healers are unsure if she will be well enough in January to return to Hogwarts. As you imagine, we are all quite worried and tense. Astoria remains a light as always. She's trying to cheer us all up when she's the one so poorly. 

I'm not sure if it would be possible, but I know Astoria would appreciate any visitors (and I would as well). 

There is a herd of Weasley's here. Too ginger by far. Do you know anything about that via Longbottom? 

All my love, 

Daphne 

Theodore frowned down at the parchment. Daphne's scrawl was a bit more hurried than usual, but she had still taken the time to add a lavender scent to it. Daphne's sister, Astoria, suffered from a blood curse. A Greengrass centuries in the past had done something so intolerable to another that every generation of parents would be forced to watch at least one of their children waste away. Yet, that pain was not enough for the bloodline to end. 

“I don't think I shall have children,” Daphne had once said, “I imagine I will be much too busy with my career.” 

The Greengrass family was known as steadfastly neutral. Perhaps a cursed lineage would incline them to not make waves. 

Theodore looked over at Kismet, who was already snoozing on the perch. He went to his desk and wrote a reply. 

Daphne, 

I am sorry to hear Astoria is unwell. We both know she packs an inordinate amount of strength in a tiny package. I have no doubts that she will be back to her shining self in no time at all. I am unsure of my obligations at home presently, but I hope I can visit. 

Is Astoria still interested in dream interpretation? Last night I dreamt of the Forbidden Forest and thestrals. There was also Neville and a possibly inappropriate use of potting soil. Don't share that part with her. 

The Weasley patriarch was bitten by a venomous snake. I don't know much more than that. 

Warmly,

Theo 

Kismet was still snoozing when Theodore tied his reply to her leg. He dressed for the day, leaving his window cracked so the little owl could return to Daphne after her nap. 

Theodore's mum had enjoyed dinner parties. Much to the chagrin of the Nott house elves, she enjoyed cooking the dishes herself. Theodore would watch her, fascinated, as she bustled around the kitchen tending to several dishes at once. Eagerly, he would open his mouth to accept tastes of rich sauces, delicate fish, and spun sugar that melted on his tongue. 

The dining room in the manor was made for these occasions. It was empty and foreboding now, with his father seated at the head lifting a fork halfway to his lips while he studied The Daily Prophet. As Theodore quietly approached, he imagined the chairs filled with people in ornate robes enjoying his mum's food and each other's company. Over the summer, the manor had more dinner guests than since before his mother died, but they were not warm occasions. Conversations were stilted, eyes were far away assumingly thinking of the approaching war. Theodore was content being ignored. 

Breakfast was bread and butter with an assortment of fruit. Passing twelve empty chairs, Theodore took his seat to the right of his father, who acknowledged him only with a nod before returning to his paper. Theodore spread butter on a warm slice of bread and held it to his mouth. His father seemed content to ignore him for now. He wasn't actively hostile. Ideally, this would be a good time to bring up visiting Astoria in the hospital. Yet, Theodore didn't particularly want to give his father a reason to look at him. 

Theodore nibbled at his breakfast while considering his options. His father didn't have any strong negative feelings towards the Greengrass family. He had never expressed displeasure at their association. Visiting Astoria once wouldn't be a huge ask, would it? 

“Excuse me, Father?” Theodore asked. 

Yorrick Nott silently finished reading the page he was on before looking at Theodore. “Yes?” 

“I got an owl from my friend Daphne this morning. Greengrass. Her sister is in the hospital and I was wondering if I might visit sometime this week?” Theodore clasped his hands in his lap as he spoke, not quite looking his father in the eyes. His throat was dry by the time he finished speaking and he desperately wanted to drain the glass before him in one gulp. 

Theodore's father narrowed his eyes at him, fixing him with an appraising stare. Theodore forced himself to lift his eyes to meet his father's, to take in the face that so hauntingly resembled his own. Many times, Theodore would stare at himself in the mirror, searching for traces of his mother in his reflection. Tried to remember his mother's face well enough to truly make a comparison. His father had much bushier eyebrows, but that was more due to Theodore's commitment to personal grooming than genetics. The most stark difference, Theodore thought, was that of their noses. Theodore's was slighter with a pointed tip. “Fairy nose” Blaise had called it, before pressing a tender kiss there. It was an uncharacteristically sweet move from Blaise, who was normally all rough hands and hot kisses. 

“I need you to replenish our potion stores,’’ his father said, “Perhaps you may visit your friend after you have completed that task successfully.” 

“I understand. Thank you,” Theodore said. ‘Perhaps’ didn't inspire much hope, but it was far better than a straight-out refusal. 

His father returned his attention to his paper, while Theodore hastily finished his breakfast. He would complete his brewing as fast as he could. Perhaps his father would even be pleased with him. 

There was already a list of needed potions waiting for Theodore in the potions lab. As he sat down to look over the list, Theodore missed his little potions lab with Neville immensely. Visually, the lab he was in was quite similar to Snape's classroom at Hogwarts, a dark room of stone. It was damp and draughty, with the metallic tang of blood scenting the air. 

Theodore wished for music coming from the gramophone, the crisp aesthetic of the room and plenty of light to see with. Most of all, he missed watching Neville chop ingredients next to him, the pink tip of his tongue sticking out his mouth. 

The list left for Theodore to complete was exhaustive. It was days of work. Nerve replenishers, blood replenishers, pastes for burns and bruises, wide eye potion, dreamless sleep… There was even a recipe for a nameless potion that was incredibly complicated and contained a number of illegal ingredients that would need to be tended to periodically the entire Theodore was home. 

It was a crushing realization. He would be chained to this potion for his entire break. It wouldn't be possible to even visit Astoria for a few hours. Theodore's father had always known this and probably was taking sick satisfaction in his disappointment. 

There was a muggle fairy tale his mum had liked. Cinderella. The poor girl had been forced into servitude by her wicked stepmother. When she asked to attend the king's ball, the stepmother had emptied a pot of lentils in the ashes of the fireplace and told Cinderella that if she picked them all out in time, she could attend. Her heart remained cheerful as she completed the arduous task. She happily presented the bowl full of recovered lentils to her stepmother, only to be laughed at. She was much too dirty to attend the ball now. 

There was more to the story. A fairy godmother. A carriage made from a pumpkin. A glass slipper. Amputation of toes and eventually happily ever after. Currently, Theodore was the one hopelessly staring at the lentils scattered in the fireplace, trying to access his mother's cheerful spirit. 

Theodore moved his school supplies to the potions lab and steadily worked through his holiday assignments during lulls in his brewing. Before he received a reply from Daphne, he used one of the family owls to inform her that regretfully he would be unable to leave the manor at all. 

The mystery potion was one of the fussiest he had ever dealt with. The recipe demanded that it be stirred every two hours for three days straight. He brought a few blankets and a pillow to the lab and dozed on and off on the stone floor. He wasn't eager to immediately start using the wide eye potions he had brewed. 

Once that step was completed, he drug himself back to his bedroom to rest awhile in the comfort of his own bed. His eyes were so heavy, mind so muddled, he might not have noticed the unfamiliar owl waiting at his window. A spark of happiness bloomed through his misery as he hobbled to the window to let his visitor inside. 

He led the austere-looking horned owl to the perch and gave it treats as he retrieved the letter. He smiled as he recognized Neville's loopy scrawl. 

Theo, 

I hope you're okay. 

My great-uncle Algie is visiting for the holidays. I think I've mentioned him a few times. He's the one who has the irritating habit of dropping me (out of the window, into the sea etc). I wish he would go home. There's so many rooms in this house, but somehow he finds his way into every room I'm in. It's a bit suffocating. 

You'll be proud of me. I've almost completed all of my holiday assignments. I've also been reading Leaves of Grass as well. The words are lovely, as are your flowers and your notes. It's all making me quite eager for spring. New blooms and the warmth of the sun. I've tried writing a few poems of my own, but they're all rubbish. 

Have you ever been camping? I think it would be nice. Maybe we could go someday. 

Looking forward to seeing you soon,

Neville 

Ps: The owl is called Gertrude. She looks kind of mean, but she's a sweetheart. 

Theodore clutched the parchment to his chest. It wasn't magically scented like Daphne's, but Theodore thought he could smell lemongrass all the same. In his sleep-addled state, his reply was a bit more raw than he would have written otherwise. 

Neville, 

I've been practically chained to the potions lab since I've been home. I miss our potions lab. I miss you. 

I wish you were here. Although perhaps not because here is rubbish. Perhaps I will come to yours, drop your dreadful uncle on his head somewhere, and we can fuck off to Australia to go camping. It's summer there now. You were made for sunny days, I think. 

I bet your poems are brilliant. As you are brilliant. 

Fondly, 

Theo 

Before he had the chance to think too much about it, Theodore gave his letter to Gertrude before diving into his bed face down and passing out fully clothed. 

Theodore smiled as he doodled on his parchment. He didn't consider himself an artist at all, but he hoped that Neville would laugh at his depiction of a bollocks-snatching dark wizard. 

After his first letter from Neville, Gertrude arrived with a new letter almost daily. The owl needed rest and presumably Neville had other people he was writing to, otherwise Theodore thought he might be getting more letters. It was nice, being thought of. Theodore and Daphne had exchanged a few letters as well, but they had been short and tense from Daphne's end. Astoria's condition was improving, but there was still no definite release date in sight. Most likely, the family would be spending Christmas in the hospital. 

A week into the holiday, Theodore and his father were eating dinner in a stilted silence that was interrupted by a pained grunt. Theodore turned his attention to his father, who was rising quickly clutching at the part of his arm where his Dark Mark resided. Theodore had seen this happen many times over the summer and was a bit surprised a summoning had not happened sooner. 

As his father swept out of the room, Theodore found his appetite swiftly fading. He stared at the plate of salmon and rice until the revulsion was so strong, he had to abandon his plate. He went to the potions lab and brewed an extra batch of nerve replenisher, added more ingredients to the mystery brew, and paced. Eventually, he went to bed. 

A bright light pulled him out of his dreams of floating in the Black Lake. Wearily, he blinked at the intrusion, pushing himself into a seated position. His father was standing at the foot of his bed, breathing raggedly, with his wand pointed directly at Theodore. Their eyes met. His father's were distant and bloodshot. 

“There's potions down in the lab,” Theodore began his words stumbling out, “I can help you. I'll just go get-” 

“Silence.” 

Theodore's mouth clamped shut. He watched his father tentatively, struggling to not let his fear show in his expression. 

“Associating with mudbloods, Theodore?” His father asked, “Have I not taught you better?” 

Well, it seemed that Draco hadn't let that little nugget of information go. Theodore opened his mouth to defend himself, but the resulting glare made him close it again. 

“Crucio,” his father said, and Theodore's existence was pain. 

A scream ripped out of his throat as every nerve inflamed and every muscle convulsed. No matter how many times Theodore had been subjected to the curse, the pain never diminished. It was the worst thing he had ever felt, every single time. His screams echoed through the empty manor. Nobody was coming to save him, so he rode the wave of pain and waited for the relief of unconsciousness, at least a little grateful that he was already in bed. 

Theodore came back to himself slowly. There was a thick haze around his thoughts and he felt oh so heavy. He grunted as he lifted himself, grunting as his muscles spasmed. At some point, his nose had bled. The blood was congealing on his face and the sheets needed to be changed. He managed to make it to the edge of his bed where he lowered his head between his knees and took heaving breaths. 

Overall, it wasn't the worst he had felt after the Cruciatus Curse. The connection must have not been held for too long. Theodore still had brewing to do after all, his father probably didn't want him to be completely useless. Theodore would make a miserable trek to the potions lab, take the potions he had made for this, and endure. 

He lifted his head when he heard the tap at his window. He squinted as he looked to the window, the light of the morning sun glaring. Gertrude was there, holding a package. 

It was Christmas, Theodore realized with a hollow laugh. It was Christmas, everything hurt, but he had a present from Neville. 

Theo, 

Happy Christmas! 

Uncle Algie will finally go home today. I am ready and eager for him to fuck on off. Gran and I will visit my parents today. It's our main tradition. I hope you can do something fun today. 

Like I've already said, the gifts you gave me were brilliant. Truly, the best gifts I have ever received. Mine pales in comparison, but I hope you like it anyway. It's a scarf. Which I know sounds horribly boring, but it's the softest scarf I've ever felt and I thought you might like it. It's even green! 

Also enclosed is a book of poetry by a muggle chap named Lord Byron. I don't know much about poetry, to be honest, but the bookseller highly recommended it. Apparently Lord Byron lived quite an interesting life. Very promiscuous. He was called a rake, I think. I hope you enjoy the poems. Either way, I thought you might like a new place to put your flowers. 

I'm looking forward to seeing you very soon. I know we don't normally meet up on Mondays, but maybe we could this time. If that's okay, of course. 

I hope to hear from you soon, 

Neville 

Theodore desperately needed a shower and his potions. But for now, he crawled back into bed and wrapped his new scarf around himself and breathed in the scent of lemongrass. He smiled softly, imagining Neville trying on the scarf before sending it. He would have no idea that the warm comfort would be exactly what Theodore needed, truly the perfect gift.

Chapter Text

Neville stood with his back straight and an expression he hoped portrayed confidence and allowed his grandmother to inspect him. His hair was combed neatly. He had found a bottle of hair tonic, forgotten in the back of a bathroom cabinet, which smelled a bit like rotten apples, but gave his blond hair a healthy sheen. His robes were royal blue, with golden dragons climbing up each of his sides. Neville worried that they were a bit too much, too showy, that he was drowning a bit in them. But perhaps, he looked a bit handsome. Not that his parents would notice. 

Neville wondered what Theo would think of them and smiled slightly imagining a compliment coming from his lips. 

“You're looking very smart, dear. Quite grown up,” Augusta Longbottom said. Her eyes were soft and a bit misty. It made Neville feel vaguely itchy and uncomfortable. He wondered if she even saw Neville standing there. Was she staring at the ghost of her son- not dead but lost to her? 

“Thank you, Gran,” Neville said. He glanced towards the window, foolishly hoping that Gertrude would return with a letter from Theo before they left for St Mungos. There wouldn't be enough time, Neville was sure. Besides, Theo was probably too busy with Yuletide festivities to write Neville back immediately. Did he have family coming? Would they sing carols together? 

Neville had received a small pile of presents from his friends that morning. Harry and Ron had both sent sweets from Honeydukes. It was a tad impersonal, yet appreciated all the same. Hermione had sent him a thick tome on Middle Eastern Botany. Ginny's gift was a much thinner book proclaiming to contain all the instructions, charms, and potions gay wizards could need in the bedroom, which had Neville blushing furiously and scrambling to hide it from his Gran's view. He had not expected a gift from Terry Boot, who had sent along a book on Victorian flower language. Finally, Luna had sent a mound of iridescent fabric that may have been a cloak or hat, but Neville had so far had no luck decoding how it was meant to be worn. 

Neville was fretting a bit about the scarf he had sent Theo. It had felt divine in his hands. Luxuriously soft. Neville wanted Theo to feel cozy and warm. He delighted in the image of Theo, a bit sleepy eyed, lifting his scarf to face to nuzzle it. Neville wanted to send him blankets and pillows, a mountain of comfort. Did Theo own any stuffed animals? Would he want one? A lion would be silly. Neville imagined Theo dangling it by the tail, raising his eyebrow and smirking. 

Yes. Next present giving opportunity. 

With one last forlorn look at the window, Neville followed his grandmother to the floo. 

Neville focused on lifting his heavy feet, one at a time. The slap of his dragonhide boots against the tile floor was a grounding force through his miserable haze. He had appreciated St Mungo's attempts at Christmas decor when he entered the hospital, smiled at the glowing lights, trees, and garland. Now, he wanted to exist in a dark room and forget about the holiday entirely. 

Visiting his parents was never pleasant, but that wasn't the point. Last year, he hadn't visited for Christmas because he had stayed for the Yule Ball. He had cried himself hoarse in the shower after, missing something he could never have. Wondering if his parents were a bit sad on that day and didn't know why. Hating himself for wishing the pain of missing him upon his parents who already had lost everything. Neville just wanted someone to miss him when he wasn't near. Was that wrong? Unbearably selfish? 

Neville thumbed the bubblegum wrappers in his pocket. When he got home, he would put them in a box with the rest. 

There was a new and crushing knowledge swimming in his mind. Ron, Ginny, and Hermione hadn't known about his parents. The only person who didn't look shocked at his grandmother's proclamation was Harry, who merely looked distant and sad. Hermione not knowing made sense. After all, she had not grown up hearing stories about the war and its many casualties. The lost children who were left behind. 

But Ron and Ginny? Ginny was one of his best friends. She knew in detail what Neville had thought about Harry Potter in swimwear, but she didn't know one of the most fundamental pieces of his past? 

It was Neville's fault, probably. He assumed that people never brought up his parents in front of him because they were being tactful. He never really mentioned them, but frequently talked about how he lived with his Gran. Only his Gran. Did people wonder where his parents were? Did they even care? 

Was Neville just a wisp who floated about, imperceivable? 

The Floos loomed ahead, the flames singing promises of an evening with the curtains drawn, warm and alone in his bed. He was nearly there when his ears finally registered the voice calling after him. 

“Longbottom!’’ 

Neville's feet trod on his Grandmother's heels, causing her to let out an indignant yelp. 

“So sorry, Gran,” he muttered, not feeling as sorry as he ought to, considering how thoroughly she had lambasted him in front of his friends. 

“Longbottom! Hi!” 

Neville turned around to come face to face with Daphne Greengrass, who was flashing him a winning smile. She had never spoken to him before. 

The majority of the people visiting St Mungo's on Christmas Day were dressed well for the occasion, but Greengrass put them all to shame. Her robes were emerald green with cascades of ruffles at each hip. Instead of her usual hairband, she wore what could only be described as a headdress. Jeweled holly berries and ivy hung down, perfectly framing her pale face. She looked like she had walked out of an issue of Witch Weekly. 

Neville's grandmother turned as well, looking from Neville to Greengrass with poorly concealed interest. Neville supposed it was probably an odd sight: a pretty, wealthy, most likely pureblood girl chasing down her useless grandson. Greengrass turned her smile towards his Gran and bowed her head. 

“Madam Longbottom, I'm Daphne Greengrass. I'm so pleased to finally meet you,” she said sweetly. Gran was uncharacteristically silent, looking at Neville with narrowed eyes before extending a wrinkled hand for Greengrass to take and press a dainty kiss to her knuckles. 

“A pleasure,” Gran said, “Neville here has had nothing but wonderful things to say about you, of course.” A blatant lie. Neville had never mentioned Greengrass to his grandmother before in his life. 

Greengrass surely knew that as well, but she continued to direct her charming smile at the both of them. “My poor sister is ill at the moment and she appreciates any visitors at all. She's been so lonely, cooped up here. Perhaps you would be willing to spare your darling grandson for just a little while?” 

Apparently, Neville didn't get a say at all in this. He told himself that she was Theo's friend. Surely she was harmless. 

“I don't think that would be a problem,” Gran finally said, “You can come find me at the tea shop when you've finished, Neville.” 

“Wonderful!” Greengrass said. She grabbed Neville's arm and looped it around hers. Confused and a little overwhelmed, Neville's feet didn't move right away so Daphne gave him a little tug to coax him into walking with her. 

Once out of earshot, Neville turned to Greengrass. “Erm, nice to meet you, Greengrass?” he said weakly. 

“Oh, call me Daphne,” she said lightly, “Theo was insisting on keeping you all to himself, so I supposed I needed to find out what all the fuss was about.” 

“I'm nothing to fuss about.” 

Daphne hummed. “We'll see,” she said, a gleam in her eye. They got on the lift together and she pressed the button to take them to the sixth floor. Like the rest of the hospital, this corridor they landed on was done up in Christmas cheer. Daphne led Neville to a door, but paused there. 

“Just a moment,’’ she said, unlinking their arms. She seized Neville by the shoulders and rather roughly turned him to face him. She tutted at his noise of surprise and indignation and proceeded to press at his shoulders until his posture straightened, then moved her hands down to smooth his robes. She tilted his chin upwards and their eyes met. Daphne's were a soft light green, like lichen. 

Apparently now satisfied with her fussing about, she let go of Neville and stepped back. Unsure of what to say or do, Neville kept himself very still as Daphne's gaze examined him from top to bottom. As she tilted her head, the strings of ivy clacking against her cheek, Neville came to the conclusion that Daphne Greengrass was rather odd. 

After way too many seconds, Daphne remarked ‘’I don't think I'm attracted to boys.” 

“Er, alright? Thanks for sharing.” 

Daphne nodded, thoughtful. “Just means I've got a limited perspective.” 

Neville wasn't sure what Daphne was talking about and didn't think she would elaborate if he asked. 

“Anyway,’’ Daphne said, turning back towards the door, “Stori's through here. She's the sweetest most precious thing, so don't be mean to her.” 

Neville opened and closed his mouth, his jaw clicking. What had Theo said about him that would make Daphne believe he would be cruel to her little sister? 

“Oh, don't be affronted,” Daphne waved her hand, “I know you're just as sweet as can be. Yet, I am required by honor to tell everyone that.” 

“I suppose that makes sense,” Neville said with a shrug. 

“Stori, I brought a friend!” Daphne sang out as they walked in the room.

Astoria Greengrass was a tiny avian thing, perched on her hospital bed and draped with blankets and shawls, yet she still shivered under the litany of warmth. She was thin, painfully so. Every visible part of her body revealed protruding bones. Her skin was so pale that it was nearly translucent, blue veins popping out below the surface. Astoria was wearing a golden paper crown on top of her head. Presumably it has come from a Christmas cracker. She smiled brightly at their entrance.  

Every surface of the room was covered in unwrapped presents. The walls were covered in pinned up letters and photos. There was a small skinny Christmas tree in the corner of the room covered in multicoloured baubles that spun around. Astoria was undoubtedly quite loved. 

“Oh! You're Neville Longbottom. I see you in the greenhouses sometimes. Though you haven't been coming as much this year. Professor Sprout says you're just brilliant.” 

“Oh,” Neville said. He had never noticed Astoria in the greenhouses when he came to work there. Though he usually went there to get lost in a task and let the rest of the world fade out. 

“Herbology's Stori's best subject,” Daphne said. She swept away a crumbled box in one of the chairs near Astoria's bed and motioned for Neville to sit. “Quite like you, Neville. Though I hear you're more for potions, these days.” There was a quirk of her lip as she cleaned off the neighboring seat and sat down as well. 

“I'm becoming more appreciative of how Herbology and Potions can come together,” Neville said, “But I doubt I'll ever excel at the subject.” 

“I've heard differently,” Daphne said mildly. 

“I think I would like potions more if Snape wasn't so horrid,” Astoria offered, “But right now, I'm mostly into Herbology and Divination.” 

“Divination,” Daphne scoffed. 

“You take it too!” Astoria cried.

“I shan't for much longer,” Daphne said. 

“Me either,” Neville agreed. He winced at Astoria “Sorry, but it's horrid. Every class it's just,’’ Neville attempted an impression of Professor Trelawney, “Harry Potter, your death draws nigh. You shall choke on a grape and tumble off a cliff.” 

Daphne laughed. “At least she kind of spreads the death omens around a bit in my class.” 

“Well, yeah, Professor Trelawney isn't the best teacher, but that doesn't mean the subject is bad. Reading tea leaves, dream interpretation… all sorely unappreciated forms of magic that more people should take advantage of,” Astoria said with a huff. 

“Astoria has been doing dream interpretations for Theo,” Daphne said conversationally. 

“Oh,” Neville said dumbly, trying not to imagine what Theo may be dreaming of. Theo's presence had been overwhelming in Neville's own dreams recently in ways both extremely pleasant and embarrassing and sometimes quite strange. 

“I wish he could have come to visit,” Astoria said wistfully, “I like him. He's funny.” 

“Me too. I wish he could be here with us now. Don't you agree, Neville? Wouldn't it be nice if Theo was here today?” Daphne gave Neville a vaguely shark-like grin. 

“Er, yeah. Would be nice, sure,” Neville said, looking away. 

It was obvious that Daphne was needling at Neville, but he was unsure of her purpose. Was she just attempting to embarrass him? If so, it was working. 

Astoria yawned. “Already so sleepy again, Daph,” she whined “Not fair.” 

“Not fair at all, lovey,” Daphne said softly. 

“And you came to see me and everything,” Astoria directed towards Neville. Her eyes were already nearly closed. 

“You can rest if you need to,” Neville said, “It was nice to talk to you a little bit.” 

Astoria smiled. “When I get back to Hogwarts you should start coming back round the Greenhouses. Professor Sprout will let me work with more difficult plants if you're there, I bet.” 

“I'll do that,’’ Neville said. 

“Kay,” Astoria said and in no time at all her eyes fully closed. Her head dropped to the side and her paper crown fluttered towards the floor. 

Neville wasn't sure what to do now. Take his leave? Daphne was looking at her sister, looking stricken. Neville fiddled with his hands in his lap until Daphne broke the silence. “She probably won't come back to Hogwarts this year. She can finish up the year via correspondence and my family already has a tutor lined up. She just needs to be able to stay awake more than an hour at a time.” 

Neville didn't know what to say. “She doesn't deserve all of this,” he offered. 

Daphne sniffed and Neville realized she had started to cry. She pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “I wish it could have been me,” she said, “I should have been the one to carry this all.” 

Her words hung heavy in Neville's chest. Who was he to judge or contradict her? 

“I think you and I both care about people a lot,” Daphne said, “In different ways. You're a listener while I'm more of a meddler.”

Neville nodded. 

“And believe we both care about Theo very much,’’ Daphne continued. 

“Yes,” Neville breathed. So much. 

“I am trying very hard not to meddle,” Daphne said, “You, being here now is meddling.” 

“You're wanting to meddle in Theo's life?” 

Daphne laughed. “In so many ways. But,’’ she lifted a finger, “for the most part, I will refrain. I just think this is something important.”  

“What is?” 

“Tell me, does Theo speak to you about his father?” 

“Erm, he told me it was an off-limits topic with you and Zabini,” Neville said. 

“Off-limits to you as well?” 

Neville felt vines of discomfort creeping from his chest to his neck, squeezing at his windpipe. “No,” he swallowed, “Not to me. But honestly he hasn't told me much, and I don't want to betray-” 

“That's quite alright,” Daphne said quickly, “I wouldn't ask that of you. I just want your opinion on something that's been on my mind for quite some time. And the only other person who could possibly have a perspective is someone I'm not… on the best terms with at the moment.” 

Zabini, Neville assumed. For awhile, it seemed that Daphne had been trying to maintain a friendship with both boys. He wondered what had shifted. 

“Alright then,” Neville said. 

Daphne took in a deep breath, let out a trembling exhale. “Do you think Theo is safe at home? With his father?” 

There had existed in a pocket of Neville's mind, cherished, an image of Theo warm by a fireplace, wrapped in his scarf, sipping from a steaming mug of hot chocolate. It blurred and twisted, taking on a new and hideous shape. 

Neville tried to keep himself tethered, but his consciousness was a spider creeping up on the ceiling, weaving a horrific tapestry of his anxieties. What was Theo's father capable of doing to his own son? Neville imagined blood. Pain. Theo alone through it all. 

“No,’’ Neville shook his head, “I don't think he is.” 

Daphne made a soft sad sound and Neville continued talking. “He hasn't said so directly. But right before we left for the holidays-” Neville recalled Theo's eyes, frantic and almost pleading. “Does he always get like that before he goes home?” 

“I think there's always some anxiety,” Daphne said, “He does his best to hide it. Right before the summer was pretty bad, but Theo was going through a lot then. The stuff with Blaise. And erm, the new political reality we all find ourselves in.” 

A very mild way of speaking of Lord Voldemort's return. 

“And you weren't around when the term started. Theo was in a really bad way when we first got back to school. Sullen, I'd say. And it's like he couldn't get warm at all. Always shivering. But then again, I could come up with other theories.” 

Neville wondered, not for the first time, what had caused Theo and Blaise to split up. Terry had said that Blaise was engaged now. He wasn't going to ask Daphne though. He reckoned that was Theo's story to share and he already felt slimy enough speaking behind his back like this. 

“Thinking back, it was strange back in first year when Theo was so insistent that he never wanted to talk about his father. I had only asked what he did for work. Maybe I should have known something then.” 

“You were only eleven,” Neville said, “You couldn't have known.” 

“Right,” Daphne said, “and I thought that all fathers would be like mine, I suppose. He would do anything to keep our family safe. Why would Theo's father be any different?” 

Really, Neville had always viewed fatherhood through the lens of sacrificial love. Only present through echoes of the past. His own father had sacrificed his own sanity. There was always a chasm in Neville's chest where he and his mother ought to have been. A grief that couldn't really be called grief, as it had no real name. Still, if Neville ever had a family of his own, he thought he would be willing to do the same. Leave his child lonely, but miraculously alive. 

“I don't know much about having a father,” Neville said. 

“Ah,” Daphne said. 

“Do you know what happened to them, my parents?’’ 

“Erm,” Daphne shifted in her seat, “Yes, I do. I think most people do.” 

“Until today I thought the same,” Neville said. 

Ginny and Hermione had both clasped their hands over their mouths, shocked. They had looked positively anguished.

“Anyway,” Neville said, pushing the memory away, “How can we help Theo?” 

“Would you be amenable to a bit of scheming?” Daphne asked.

“Scheming?” Neville couldn't recall ever scheming in his life. 

“Mild scheming,” Daphne flicked her wrist, “Nothing nefarious. I think we need to come up with a reason to keep Theo away from home this summer. Asking him to come visit isn't enough.” 

“Er, burn down his house?” 

Daphne squawked out a laugh. “Merlin, I said nothing nefarious. Arson, murder, and getting Theo's father arrested for crimes both real and fabricated could be future options. But for now, I was thinking of an apprenticeship.” 

“Ah, yeah. I mean, Theo's brilliant.” 

“Quite,” Daphne smiled, “it would have to be suitably prestigious though. Something his father couldn't possibly deny.”

“He would need to stay there,” Neville added, “Not just floo home every day.” 

“Something out of the country then,’’ Daphne said with a decisive nod. “He'll probably ace all of his exams. His name is notable, if not widely respected these days. But that won't matter as much if he's out of the country. He won't be of age though so whoever took him on would have to be willing to do the work involved to get him a special dispensation for underage magic.” 

“He's worth it, I think,” Neville said. 

“Of course you think so,” Daphne said with a small smile. “As far as I know, your grandmother is very well connected. My father is as well. We could ask some Professors as well? Don't worry, I won't make you deal with Professor Snape.” 

“Thanking you,” Neville said. 

“We should be able to find something good together, yeah? I'll push the opportunities at him and when he comes to you agonizing about how meddlesome I am, your job would be to charm him into giving in.” 

“Er, I dunno about charming,” Neville said, his cheeks growing warm. 

“I have it on good authority that you can be quite charming,” Daphne said, wrinkling her nose. “It's a decent plan, though?” 

“Yeah, we'll make it happen.” 

“Hopefully you'll have room in your schedule for more clandestine meetings,” Daphne said, grinning at him. 

“I’ll make the time,” Neville said. For Theo, he would. 

Daphne stood up, looking quite regal. Neville took the cue to stand as well. She extended a hand. “Allies, then?” she asked. 

Neville rolled his eyes. “I don't have allies. I have friends.” 

Daphne giggled. “Fine, then. Friends?” 

“Absolutely,” Neville said. He took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles like she had done to his Gran earlier. He looked up, feeling a bit foolish, but Daphne seemed pleased. 

“As this friendship is quite new, you'll excuse the lack of Christmas present, I hope.”

Neville dropped her hand. “Not a problem.” 

“Oh wait,” her eyes lit up, “I'll send you home with fruitcake.” 

She started searching through the room. Her headdress had to be rather cumbersome, Neville thought, watching the embellishments clack about as she moved. Eventually, she handed him a box. 

“I'll be expecting a belated gift of my own, of course,” she teased, “Better make it good. I have a discerning taste.” 

Neville laughed, imagining sending her one of Gran's vulture hats. 

Neville, 

Happy Christmas! 

Thank you for the gifts. They're lovely. I think the scarf you send must be made of magic. I shan't be taking it off. I'm looking forward to reading the poems later on. They seem quite interesting. 

I'll have a quiet sort of day here. We don't do much celebrating here. Perhaps later, I'll have some cake. Walk about in the snow. I'm looking forward to seeing flowers again. It's all too grey. 

I hope seeing your parents went okay. I'm here if you need to talk about it. 

I'll see you Monday, in our usual spot. 

Warm regards,

Theo 

Theo's handwriting was less neat than usual. Neville had taken another one of his letters to compare it to, just to confirm. It looked as though his hand may have been trembling as he wrote. But maybe after his conversation with Daphne, Neville's imagination was running away from him. He knew he couldn't tell Theo the full extent of it, but he didn't feel right hiding the fact he had befriended Daphne from him. 

Theo, 

I'm so glad you're enjoying the gifts. 

There were a lot of familiar faces at St Mungos this year. I saw the Weasleys. Hermione and Harry were with them as well. Surprisingly, I also ran into your friend Daphne Greengrass. She, rather insistently, took me to meet her sister as well. I suppose we're friends now. I hope that's okay. I don't think I could have gotten out of it, to be honest. 

She sent me home with fruitcake and apparently I owe her a gift now as well. What does she like? I was thinking maybe something for her hair? I admit I'm not well versed in fashion.  

I miss you, 

Neville 

Neville, 

I'm so sorry. I had no idea. You never said. I feel so foolish. I knew I had to say something, but I really have no idea what to say. Other than: I love you, Neville. I love you so much. 

Ginny 

Chapter Text

Greg had received a kitten for Christmas. A tiny white ball of fluff that scampered around the dorm room in a blur while everyone unpacked after the holidays. 

“It better not piss on my shoes, Goyle,” Draco sneered, toppling awkwardly as the cat whizzed past his ankles. 

“She won't,” Greg said. He was sitting on his bed watching the cat with adoration in his eyes. It was an odd sort of picture. Theodore had never imagined Greg to be the sort to be so enchanted by an animal, but maybe he didn't know Greg that well. 

“What's your cat's name?” Theodore asked. 

Greg blinked, as if surprised that Theodore was speaking to him. “Er, Belle Bete,” he said. 

“Cute,” Theodore said. 

They watched as Belle Bete swatted at the laces of a pair of Blaise's boots. Blaise yanked the boots away, letting out a string of Italian that Theodore was certain was mostly swears. 

“Why don't you like me?” Greg asked quietly. 

Theodore bristled. “I like you just fine, Greg,” he said. 

“Don't lie. You think you're better than all of us,” Greg's voice was forceful but also sounded sad. 

“Is that what Draco's been saying?” 

“He doesn't have to say. I can tell,” Greg snapped. 

Theodore looked at him, really looked at him, and examined what he really thought about this boy he had slept next to since he was eleven years old. Draco's crony. Dumb brute. Future Death Eater footsoldier. Eventual casualty. Theodore wanted to kick himself for being so callous about another human being. Why should a boy who looked at a little cat so tenderly be forced to kill or be killed? 

None of it was fair. 

“I've got some yarn,” Theodore said, “For your cat. If you want.” 

It wasn't an apology. Theodore still thought Greg was a bit of a thug who was so attached to Draco Malfoy he was practically a hemorrhoid. But he also was a human being with feelings. 

Maybe Theodore was looking at the world with Neville-tinted lenses nowadays, but he thought Greg could be more than he was, if given the chance. 

“Sure, yeah, she'd like that,” Greg said. 

Belle Bete approached them then. Greg scooped her up into his lap and stared down at her with a dopey smile on his face as he stroked her back. 

“Have a nice holiday, Theo?” Draco called out. It was a casual question, but Draco was looking at Theodore with a predatory gleam in his eyes. 

“Fine,” Theodore said, “Yours?” 

“Oh, wonderful as usual. Plenty of guests at the manor, of course. I saw your father a few times. I was disappointed you didn't come along,” Draco said. 

Theodore froze. In his peripheral vision, he noticed Blaise stop whatever he was doing as well, a vein of tension popping up in his neck. 

“I was indisposed,” Theodore said coolly. 

“Ah, yes,” Draco tilted his head and curled his lips into a haughty smile. His next words were mocking baby-talk “Little Theo was in trouble.” 

The room was silent. Displaying a truly astounding amount of self-control, Theodore did not hex him. 

After all, Draco didn't know. He most likely believed that Theodore had been lectured. Maybe been given some additional chores or been forbidden from seeing his friends. Theodore doubted Draco Malfoy could even conceptualize being woken up from a dead sleep to be tortured. 

During the rest of the break, Theodore had brewed and practiced dueling with his father. Dueling with Yorrick Nott was more of a mind game than anything. Theodore had to both appear to be trying very hard, but could also never actually come close to winning. Once over the past summer, Theodore had actually managed to stun him. He was momentarily proud but what followed was one of the worst nights of his life. 

So, Theodore brewed. He was hurt and humiliated. He peeled himself off the floor, patched himself up, wrote to Neville, and endured. 

He had faced far worse things than little spoiled princes like Draco Malfoy. 

“Y'know,” Theodore said, cocking a brow, “I’ve spoken to Granger exactly once. About homework, mind you. But from my perspective, it seems like you speak to her all the time.”

Draco's mouth formed a thin line. 

“It's interesting,” Theodore continued because he just couldn't stop himself, “it seems like you were awfully affronted that I talked to her. It's almost as if you want her all to yourself.” 

“That's preposterous!” Draco scoffed. 

Theodore put his hands up placating. “Just an observation.” 

“If you really think I would be interested in a uppity little know-it-all mud-” 

“Oh no, actually. I know you're not interested in Granger. Because there's only one person you're constantly making a point to speak to. Who you're constantly speaking about. That your little world seems to spin around. And it's not Granger. She's just… adjacent.” 

“Shut up,” Draco said. His eyes were furious.

“Strike a nerve, did I? Don't worry. Unlike you, I'm not a tattletale,” Theodore said. He knew it was downright idiotic, goading Draco like this. It was just so satisfying to see him squirm. 

“You're just jealous that I stole your best friend!” Draco yelled. He leaned back, looking entirely too smug. 

Theodore looked from Draco to Blaise, who looked seconds away from bolting from the room. Theodore couldn't stop himself from laughing. “You are a child,” he told Draco. He picked up his pajamas from the foot of his bed and headed off to change for bed. 

Theodore had seen Neville several times since returning to Hogwarts. First, he saw him climbing into a carriage with Weasley and Lovegood. At dinner afterward, then breakfast the next day. Theodore glanced over to the Gryffindor table at lunch, watching Neville chat with Granger. In potions class, they had gone to the storeroom at the same time and brushed up against each other with a whispered “Hi”. It wasn't enough. 

“Someone's eager to go off somewhere,” Daphne teased as Theodore inhaled his steak and kidney pie that evening. 

“Shut up,” he said. He tried to glare at her, but couldn't help smiling. 

Theodore had very badly wanted to admonish Daphne for accosting Neville at the hospital on Christmas. Neville was probably already feeling vulnerable after visiting his parents and Daphne had inserted herself after Theodore had already told her he would eventually introduce them. But then Daphne had arrived on the train sans Astoria looking so defeated that Theodore couldn't bear being angry with her. 

Besides, it seemed like Neville and Daphne had gotten along fine. Neville had even said they were friends now. If anything, Neville seemed worried that Theodore would be cross with him for speaking to Daphne, as if Neville could control Daphne's pathological need for meddling.  

“You gonna snog him tonight?” Daphne whispered into his ear. 

“Dunno, you gonna snog Tracey?” Theodore whispered back. Daphne’s cheeks went pink and Theodore was pleased to actually have some leverage with her for once. 

“Smug bastard,” Daphne said. She moved Theodore's glass of water just out of his reach, just to be a pain. “Anyway, ton cherie has already left. Best not to dawdle.”

Shoving one last forkful of pie into his mouth, Theodore left the Great Hall. 

Neville was already in the room when Theodore got there. He was standing in the middle of the room, back to Theodore. He didn't seem to be looking at anything in particular, perhaps just thinking. Then, Neville turned around, locked eyes with Theodore, and smiled, a bright beam of sunshine cutting through a dreary winter's day. 

Theodore moved, in a manner that was probably undignified, over to Neville to wrap him into a tight hug. Neville made a startled sound before melting into the embrace. After two weeks of freezing misery, this is what Theodore needed more than anything. Neville, warm and solid in his arms. 

“Missed you,” he said into Neville's hair. He felt light like all his concerns had been left in a heap outside of the room. 

“Missed you too,’’ Neville said. Neville's hands were at Theodore's back, grasping fistfuls of his robes to pull him closer. Theodore wanted to run his hands down every inch of Neville, just to prove to himself he was there. Theodore settled on running his hands down Neville's back, grinning when he heard Neville's breath hitch as they moved lower. 

Interesting. 

Neville moved back so they were facing each other, but didn't let go of Theodore completely. “Have you been here since we've been back?” he asked. 

“No,” Theodore said, “why?” 

“The room gave us stuff!” Neville said. He smiled, a little scrunch of his lips that made his cheeks puffer and his eyes squint. “I didn't even ask for any of it. See?” 

Theodore hadn't noticed any changes to the room at all. He had only been looking at Neville. He supposed it was a good time that it had taken him so long to notice Neville or else he would have flunked out ages ago due to the distraction. 

Theodore mourned the loss of contact when Neville let go of him to give him a tour. “More books, more records, see the shelves are bigger? I haven't looked through them yet. Haven't been here all that long. Ooh, see the fireplace by the couch? Cushions,” he gestured towards several purple cushions arranged in a circle on the floor next to the couch. “Another table and cauldron in the potions lab.” 

“Guess the room is telling me I should be practicing for my OWL as well?” Theodore said. 

“Nah, you're aces,” Neville said, “and erm, it gave us a bed?” 

Neville was right. Tucked in a corner was a bed, not very large but enough for two people to lay quite close to one another. It was covered with a patchwork quilt and a variety of pillows. Neville stared at it, chewing at his lip. “Trying to help with your sleep deprivation?” he guessed. 

Theodore tried very hard not to think about snogging Neville there, pushing him into the mattress, and then curling up with him for a nap. 

Not far from the bed, there was a plain wooden door. Theodore pointed at it. 

“Yeah, haven't gone through it yet,” Neville said, “Wanna see?” 

It was a bathroom. With a very large shower. 

“Well, that's handy, I guess?” Neville said before shutting the door. 

“We could just live here,” Theodore said. He made sure to keep his tone light, but truthfully he thought living there with Neville would be the best idea ever. There were some logistical challenges posed by the people around them who couldn't mind their own business, but Theodore reckoned they could just ignore them. 

“I wish,” Neville said and he sounded a bit like he meant it. 

They went over to peruse the new selection of books. There were books on potions, herbology and defense. Theodore noticed some books that looked rather dark in origin. Also, there was quite a large selection of poetry. 

Neville removed a book from the shelf and immediately went scarlet. Theodore peeked over his shoulder before Neville could shove it back where it came from. It was a magazine, potentially from the seventies, displaying a very hairy and very nude wizard who was posing and winking at the camera. 

Neville looked up at the ceiling. “You gave us porn?” he shouted at the room, “Really?” 

The room didn't respond, but Theodore doubled over in laughter. Neville glared at him but fell into giggles as well. Theodore snatched the magazine out of his hand. “Is he your type?” he teased, pointing to the man on the cover. 

“N-no!” Neville stuttered adorably, “He's way too…”

“Hairy? Beefy?” 

“He looks like he needs a bath,” Neville said, scrunching his nose. The man in question made a come-hither gesture with his finger. “Sodding Morgana, put him away!” Neville said, shielding his eyes. 

Chuckling, Theodore put the magazine away. “Pick us out a record?” he asked. 

“Sure,” Neville said and went off to do so. 

Theodore sat down on the couch and allowed himself the simple pleasure of watching Neville as he pulled records off the shelves and examined them. Back at home, the room and Neville seemed almost hazy, like a dream he once had. But now it was solid, vivid, and real.

Our room. 

Neville put his selection on the gramophone and Theodore was surprised when a vaguely familiar classical song began to play. A waltz. 

Neville walked towards the couch with a bit of a flounce in his step. “The Blue Danube,” he said, doing a little twirl. 

“Neville Longbottom,” Theodore said, grinning, “Are you a dancer?” 

“A bit,” Neville said, “It was the only thing my Gran made me do that I was halfway decent at.” He shrugged. “It's pretty fun.” 

Theodore imagined Neville, small and ruddy-cheeked, learning how to waltz with a group of other children. 

“Well, let's see then,” Theodore said, standing and putting out his hand. 

Dancing lessons were pretty standard for most pureblood families like Theodore's and Neville's, but Theodore had never been enrolled in them. 

They moved into position, Neville's hand on Theodore's back and Theodore's on Neville's, their other hands entwined. They danced, Neville leading them effortlessly in an easy rhythmic box-step.

“Who did you go with the Yule Ball with?” Theodore asked. 

“Ginny. You?” 

“Tracey,” Theodore said, “I was a shoddy date. Probably should have danced with her more.” 

Neville huffed out a laugh. “Ginny and I danced so much that people were convinced we were dating afterwards. People would genuinely get cross with us when we'd insist we were just friends. I just like dancing!” 

Theodore thought that if Neville had been his date to the Yule Ball, he would have stayed out on the dance floor all night long. 

“I wish we had a ball every year,” Neville said, “I know it's kind of a hassle with the dress robes and finding a date. So much fighting about dates. You should have seen it when people found out Hermione went with Viktor Krum. Pandemonium.” 

“Plenty of fighting in Slytherin as well,” Theodore said, remembering how angry he and Blaise had gotten at one another over who got to ask Daphne. 

“I'd just like to dance more,” Neville said. 

“I'll dance with you any time,” Theodore said. 

“Cheers,” Neville said, “Spin?” 

“Sure,’’ Theodore said. Neville swung out Theodore into a spin and then pulled him back, dizzy and laughing into Neville's chest. Keeping his hand steady, Neville then dipped him. Startled, Theodore thought he might slip onto the floor, but Neville's hand was strong and sure at the small of his back. Holding Theodore up, as usual.  

They were still clutching at each other and laughing when the music shifted. It was more dramatic, a song with gravitas. 

“Oh, I think this one's a tango,” Neville said. 

“A tango?” Theodore asked, unfamiliar. 

“Seamus and Dean do it sometimes for a laugh, but I don't actually know much about it. It's er,” Neville pulled Theodore closer, their chests flush, then pressed their cheeks together. “I think we both are meant to be holding each other's back maybe? And usually they extend the other arm and sort of dramatically trot?” 

Neville moved them, stepping forcefully and dramatically. “But as I do this, I'm beginning to realize that what they're doing is probably dead wrong and perhaps a mite bit culturally insensitive?” 

“Perhaps,” Theodore agreed, although he was relishing in the feeling of Neville pressed so closely against him. 

“Oh, and there's this silly bit they do,” Neville said. He let go of Theodore's hand and fumbled in his pockets for his hand. With a flourish, he conjured a single long-stemmed red rose which he promptly stuck sideways in Theodore's mouth. With a cheeky grin, Neville took Theodore's hand back and resumed their bastardized tango dance. 

When the song ended, they were both rather flushed and sweaty. They moved apart and Neville took the rose from Theodore's mouth and tucked it behind his ear. 

Neville regarded Theodore, eyes soft. “Perfect,” he said. 

If Theodore was braver, he would have kissed Neville then. But he wasn't all that brave, so they collapsed on the couch together instead. 

“Did you have cake?” Neville asked, apropos of nothing. 

“Mm?” 

“You said in your letter that you might have cake on Christmas. I was hoping you had cake,” Neville said. 

Theodore did have a bit of cake. Black Forest gateau snuck to him by one of the house-elves. “Yes, I had cake. Did you?” 

“Mhm,” Neville gazed up at the ceiling, “Uncle Algie brought so many cakes. Insisted we try them all. Wouldn't shut up about how expensive they all were. But then when I would have some he'd start commenting about my weight.” 

“Fucking git,” Theodore said, hating Neville's bloody uncle a touch more every time he was mentioned. 

“Can't win,” Neville sighed. 

“You said, er, Daphne gave you fruitcake as well?” 

“Yeah, it was good. Quite boozy. Actually, I brought her Christmas gift with me. Maybe you could pass it on? It's just a hairpin. Thought it was nice.” 

“Sure,” Theodore said, “She always appreciates something new for her hair. Did she, er, say anything strange to you when you saw her?” 

“Oh no, she was lovely,” Neville said, “Although now that you mention it, she kind of examined me? Then told me she wasn't attracted to boys. That was potentially strange.” 

“Examined you?” Theodore wheezed. 

“It was mildly uncomfortable, I guess,” Neville said, “but I'm glad I was able to help her on her way to settling her sexual orientation.” 

Theodore snorted. That fucking harpy. 

“I think she's been mulling it over for a bit. So, it's nothing on you. You're, er, quite handsome.” Theodore said. 

“Oh. Ah, thank you?” Neville said, “I mean, you too. Quite handsome.” 

Neville was looking at him, eyes a bit dazed, breath a bit raggedy. Handsome as sin. A gorgeous bow-mouth practically begging for a kiss. 

And if Theodore was brave, he would have leaned in to demonstrate how handsome he thought Neville was. But he wasn't that brave so instead he knocked their shoulders together. 

“Just a pair of strapping young lads,” Theodore said.

Back at Slytherin tower, Theodore hummed The Blue Danube as he cleaned his teeth before bed. 

Interrupting his reverie, Blaise came into the lavatory and settled at the sink next to him, pulling out his vast array of skin and hair potions. 

“Draco shouldn't have said that last night,” Blaise began, giving Theodore a tentative glance, “He doesn't know. Er, what we were to each other.” 

Theodore spat out his toothpaste, wiping away the foam from his mouth. “Okay,” he said. 

“But you shouldn't have said all of that to him either, Theo. He's really angry with you now. I don't know what he might do.” 

“Well, you're his best mate now,” Theodore said, “Surely he'll confide in you.” 

Blaise started rubbing a cream onto his face, his dark skin taking on an oily and ghoulish pallor. In the past, they had done this nearly every night. Got ready for bed together.  The memory felt so distant now. Theodore used to enjoy the scents of all the creams and salves, how they muddled together and lingered on Blaise's skin when he crawled into Theodore's bed after everyone else in the dorm fell asleep. But now the stench was unpleasant. Overpowering enough that a small ache formed in Theodore's temple. 

 “I know he can be a bit of a tit,” Blaise admitted, “but you know, you've hurt him a lot.” 

“What? With that stuff I said last night?” 

“Since first year, Theo. You never gave him a chance. Neither did I. I think deep down he just wants you to like him,” Blaise said. 

Theodore shrugged. “He could try being likable?” 

Blaise sighed. “I don't know why I keep trying,” he murmured. 

“I'm a stubborn git to the end, it seems,” Theodore said, flashing him a smile full of false cheer. 

“All the way to the grave,” Blaise said darkly. 

“At least I'll die with some dignity.” 

“Oh?” Blaise laughed humorlessly and turned to fix Theodore with a level stare. “And I won't?” 

“You won't die at all,” Theodore said, clapping Blaise's shoulder. “You'll go to Sweden.” 

As Theodore turned to leave, Blaise called after him. 

“Yes?” Theodore asked.

“I just,” Blaise turned his eyes towards the floor, “Is Daphne okay? I heard about her sister.” 

“Can't you ask her?” Theodore asked, confused. 

Blaise smiled sadly. “She's not exactly speaking to me at the moment.”

“Oh,” Theodore said, because that was news to him. Although now that he thought about it, he remembered how when Tracey called Blaise a prat on the train, Daphne hadn't said anything in his defense. 

“I'm just worried about her,” Blaise said. 

“I think,” Theodore paused and actually thought. Daphne was sad. Missing her sister. Worrying. But also still laughing. Still teasing Theodore about Neville. Watching Tracey with a secretive smile. Clinging to the good through her adversity. 

“I think you should fix whatever happened between you and her. Because she needs people right now,” Theodore said, “and she's the one always fixing things so it's your turn.” 

“I'm not sure I can,” Blaise whispered. 

“Figure it out,” Theodore said slowly. He shrugged and left Blaise alone at the sinks. 

Chapter Text

It was a brilliant day, thought Neville. Just a wonderful day to be alive. 

“Where the feck are my socks?”

“I dunno, mate. They're your socks.’

“Sodding expensive socks they are. You better not have wanked in them!” 

“Oi! That's disgusting! Shut your gob!” 

Well, the rest of Neville's dorm mates had woken up in testy moods, but Neville was floating high above the petty squabbles. He hummed The Blue Danube as he dressed for the day. He splashed tonic in his hair and smiled at himself in the mirror, trying to get a glimpse of what Theo had described as “quite handsome”. 

‘Pudgy,’ said the voice of Uncle Algie in Neville's head. Neville shook that particular vile thought away. It was a good day. 

Theo had held Neville so tightly, danced with him, and even said he'd dance with Neville anytime he liked. And there were the moments, like before, where Neville had wanted to kiss Theo so badly he could believe that Theo wanted the same. It wasn't an insurmountable gap between their lips. Neville just needed to move a bit closer. He could do it, maybe. He should be able to. Bravery and all that. 

Maybe Ginny would have some insight into the situation. How do you know that someone wants to be kissed? She ought to know. If only she'd stop acting so distant and strange around Neville. 

Neville hummed, tapping the beat of the waltz onto his bedpost as he slipped on his shoes. 

“Oi Longbottom, be a little less cheerful, eh mate? Some of us are feckin' sufferin'” Seamus groused. 

“Let Neville be happy, you absolute bellend!” Ron shouted. 

“Wanker!” 

“Tosser!” 

“Will you both just shut it?” Harry growled, heavy-eyed and clutching at his head. 

While Neville had been waltzing in the Room of Requirement with Theo, Harry had been doing remedial potions lessons with Snape. Apparently, it had not gone well. Harry wasn't the best potioneer, but Neville thought he probably fell in the middle of the pack, skill-wise. It was odd that remedial lessons would be offered to him and not someone who was having a more difficult time in class. Neville surmised that it was all Dumbledore's doing. 

“Do it now or it will be too late! There is no time to hesitate!” A squeaky voice called out. 

Hermione had gotten talking homework planners as gifts for Ron and Harry for Christmas. When he saw them, Neville was surprised he had not received one as well. It was a testament to Hermione's commitment to the apology she had made. They were still annoying, however, even when the rhyming words of encouragement weren't directed towards Neville. 

“Toss that shite in the bin!” Seamus roared. 

“I've already tried, haven't I? It just bounced back and hit me in the head!” Ron yelled back. 

Neville left them to their squabbling, smiling absently as he half-hopped half-danced down the stairs to the common room. Ginny was standing near the portrait hole chatting with Demelza Robins. Neville bounced up to her, looping his arm through hers and spinning her towards the exit. 

“Stealing you,” he said. 

“Er, okay. Bye, Dezzie!’’ Ginny called as Neville yanked her outside. 

“Ginny, Gingin, hello,” Neville said cheerfully. 

“Er, hullo Nev?” Ginny gave him a quizzical look. 

Neville put his thumb on the furrow in Ginny's brow and smoothed it down. 

“Are we not going to talk about-” Ginny started. 

Neville cut her off before she could say the hospital or his parents. He knew it had to happen eventually. He hadn't responded to the letter she sent after Christmas. Couldn't think of what to say. “Not today, Gin. Please. We can have a massive heart-to-heart and cry about it later, but not right now, okay?” 

Ginny nodded hesitantly. “Okay,” she said softly, “You seem, ah, cheerful?” 

“It's a good day,” Neville said lightly, “I wanted to ask for your opinion. Perspective? Advice?” 

“Sure,” Ginny said. 

Neville lowered his voice as they reached the stairs. “So, with you and Michael… How did you know? That you both fancied each other? Like who kissed who first and how did it happen?”  

“Well, he asked me for a dance at the ball last year. I thought he was cute, but wasn't sure. Then, he asked me to Hogsmeade and I figured I'd give it a go. So, I reckon he fancied me then? We went out and had some laughs. He was attentive, you know, like he really cared about everything I was saying. And I started to think, oh, he's quite nice. Then, at the gate, he asked if he could kiss me and I just said yes.” Ginny said. 

Neville frowned. “I'm not sure if that helps me,” he said truthfully. 

“I've already said I think Nott fancies you,” Ginny said. 

“I think so too sometimes, but what if I'm wrong?” 

“What if you're right?” Ginny asked softly. 

“Well, what do I do then? There are these moments where it seems we're so close. Then, he cracks a joke or something.” 

“Sounds like he's nervous too,” Ginny remarked, “You could try asking. Like Michael.” 

Terrifying. “What if he says no?” 

“Then you move on with your life?” Ginny said lightly, “You'll be certain at least. But like I've been saying, I really don't think he'd turn you down.” 

“He called me handsome,” Neville said quietly, his cheeks warming, “And he seemed so happy to see me. Hugged me for a really long time. And we danced.” 

“Awww,” Ginny cooed, “That's properly romantic. I want some romance.”

“Michael isn't being romantic?”

“Not as of late. Lots of being dragged in broom closets,” Ginny shrugged, “But I have hopes for the Valentine's trip to Hogsmeade.” 

Neville imagined him and Theo, bundled up in a corner booth at the Three Broomsticks drinking butterbeer and sharing kisses. It ached a bit, knowing that even if they were together they probably wouldn't be able to do that openly. 

“Well, Michael better step up,” Neville warned. 

“Oh yeah,” Ginny grinned, “What are you gonna do about it?” 

“Well, have I told you I'm a dark wizard these days? I'll have to show you the picture Theo drew, it's quite funny-” 

They entered The Great Hall and Neville instinctively stopped speaking. There was something in the air. An overarching wrongness. 

People at every table were crowded around copies of The Daily Prophet, even those Neville knew didn't read the paper anymore. There were gasps and some people seemed to be crying. 

And there were eyes. So many eyes staring right at Neville. 

“What's going on?” Ginny whispered. 

“Dunno,” Neville said. He took slow steps towards the Gryffindor table, his feet dragging with dread. 

When he sat down, he was immediately enveloped in a hug by a teary-eyed Parvati Patil. “Oh Neville, I had no idea,” she wailed, “I'm so sorry. This must be awful for you.” 

Neville wiggled a bit so Parvati would release him. “Er, I'm not sure what's happening right now,” he said. 

“Oh, yes I guess you haven't seen it yet, have you?” 

“Seen what?” 

Parvati pushed the newspaper towards Neville and he just stared at it slack-jawed.

Mass Breakout from Azkaban 

And underneath the headline there were ten photographs of former Death Eaters, once again free on the streets. Three with very familiar last names. Lestrange. Underneath each of their pictures, there was a line explaining the crimes they were imprisoned for. For Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan Lestrange the crimes were the same. Torturing Neville's parents into insanity. 

Each of them was wild-eyed, mad, lunging towards Neville in their photos. He couldn't decide if he wanted to keep staring at it or push it away. He moved his hand absently, knocking over a cup of pumpkin juice which flowed onto the paper and stained Bellatrix Lestrange a sickly orange. 

“Sorry, Parvati, your paper,” Neville said weakly. 

“No worries, Neville,” Parvati said softly. She got out her wand and vanished from the puddle.

Neville couldn't breathe. His vision blurred as his throat tightened. “I have to go,” he forced out, his arms shaking as he pushed against the table to stand. 

Ginny hopped up immediately, moving to follow. 

“No,” Neville said, “I need to be alone.” 

“I don't think you should be,” Ginny tried. 

“Please,” Neville begged. 

He couldn't bear to feel her sympathetic eyes on him, watch her try to work out what to say to him. 

“Okay,” Ginny said, sitting down. 

Neville directed a half-hearted nod of thanks in her direction before walking out of The Great Hall, the whispers of his classmates roaring in his ears. 

A variety of voices called after him as he ran through the Entrance Hall and burst through the doors leading to the grounds. He stumbled, gasping in lungfuls of cold air. Neville ran, unfocused, until his calves burned. His knees buckled as he reached a tree and he sank onto the frosty grass. He grasped at the grass, pulling it, trying to remember a breathing exercise from the book Theo had given him. But all his mind supplied were faces. The Lestranges cackling. His parents smiling at him absently. The imposter Professor Moody pointing his wand at a spider in a jar. Ginny and Hermione with their hands covering their mouths, eyes filling with tears. 

They looped. Neville swore he could hear Bellatrix Lestrange's laughter in his ears. When he was around dementors in his third year, he would hear the laughter. The screaming. 

“I told you, we don't know anything!” 

Neville tucked his head between his knees. 

“Please. Don't hurt our son.” 

Neville choked on sobs. Dug his fingernails into his shins. 

“Oh dear, oh dear. I believe we've broken them.” 

“Silly Bella, always breaking her toys.” 

“Where's the brat?” 

“Not tonight, dear. The Aurors are probably already on their way.” 

There were no dementors, but Neville was so cold. He shivered, his body already shaking from his panic and the crying. It was too much sensation. He would give anything just to crawl out of his skin. 

There was a soft voice coming from above him. “Neville.” 

Neville looked up, roughly wiping away his tears with his sleeve. Theo stood in front of him. His cheeks were red and he was breathing heavily. Had he been running? 

Theo bent down in front of Neville and offered him a vial. “This one's a bit stronger,” he said. 

Neville took it and poured the contents down his throat. Almost immediately, his breathing slowed. The panic was fading, but there were still feelings present that Neville wasn't ready to examine. 

“I don't want to talk about it,” Neville said, “I can't.” 

“Okay,” Theo said simply. He sat down on the grass next to Neville and stretched out his legs. 

“You'll get wet,” Neville protested. 

“It’s fine,” Theo said with a shrug. 

Neville gazed up at the cold grey sky. There was no warmth from the sun. Only wisps of clouds. 

Neville felt something soft against his chin and he realized that Theo had taken off his scarf and was wrapping it around Neville's neck. Neville's shoulders slumped as warmth returned to his body. The scarf smelled just like Theo, oak and spice. 

“You'll be cold,” Neville said weakly. 

“You're not wearing a cloak,” Theo said gently, “Silly boy.” 

Neville choked out a laugh. Theo's hands were splayed out on the grass and Neville reached towards the one beside him, brushing their freezing fingers together. Theo picked Neville's hand and encased it with both of his, warming it. 

“I'm sure you could get out of class today. Nobody would judge you for it,” Theo said, “Nobody with sense anyway.” 

Neville wanted to agree. He could even hide away from everyone in their room. But he would only have his thoughts for company, and eventually, he'd shatter. 

“I need to keep moving,” Neville said resolutely.

Theo nodded. “I'll be here when you need to stop.” 

Neville had believed for a long time that people knew about his parents, but were either kind or uncomfortable enough to keep their mouths shut about it. 

It was painfully naive, really. After all, Neville had seen how people spoke to Harry about his parents despite his obvious discomfort. 

But Harry was remarkable, a survivor in the truest sense of the word. Neville was nothing. Of course, they would be treated differently. 

This is what it was like when people actually knew: 

Neville was hugged entirely too much by people he barely knew. Some strangers, even. His robes were soaked through with tears that weren't his own. People whispered as he walked by. There was so much staring. 

He was a spider trapped in a jar, Professor Moody leering down at him. 

Ernie Macmillan clapped him roughly on the shoulder and said ‘’Chin up, old chap.” 

Terry Boot pushed a napkin full of pumpkin pasties towards him in Transfiguration and Professor McGonagall pretended not to notice as Neville scarfed them down. 

Luna Lovegood stuffed a handful of flower petals and rocks into the pockets of his robes and kissed him on the forehead. 

People asked questions. The most common one being “Are you okay?” 

But there were others that were less tactful. 

“Were you there when it happened?” 

Yes. 

“Do you remember it?” 

I was too young, but the dementors brought some of it out anyway. Cheers to them. 

“Maybe you'll get a chance to get some revenge now.” 

It frightens me, how much I want them dead. How I want their deaths to be at my hands. How I want it to be painful and messy. 

Neville didn't actually answer those questions. He stared ahead like he couldn't hear them at all. One of his friends always seemed to hover near enough to tell off anyone who kept asking. 

“Hey Longbottom,” Pansy Parkinson said shrilly, “Did you catch a few stray crucios? Would explain how useless you are at everything, if you're a bit touched in the head.” 

Parkinson ended up in the Hospital Wing later that day, covered in painful boils. Nobody knew who had hexed her. 

When classes ended that day, the calming potion had faded from Neville's system, but there was no panic. He felt something cold and sharp in his chest. Rage. Disgust churned in his gut at every face he saw. So, he went to the Room of Requirement. 

He tossed his bag down next to the potions lab. Neville paced through the room, considering. It was a while before he was meant to meet Theo. He thumbed through records and books, titles blurred, nothing was appealing. He kicked off his shoes and laid down on a cushion, on the couch, even on the bed. Too restless to stay still, he paced more, wrung his hands together, dug his fingernails into his palms until he left marks. Wanted to bite and claw at his own skin. 

Neville made his way over the practice dummies. He wanted to destroy and realized he could. 

He drew his wand and pointed at one of the dummies. “Reducto,” he cast. He groaned when the dummy didn't explode into dust, merely blew into chunks. 

Neville moved on to another one. This time, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and visualized the photo of Bellatrix from the newspaper. Allowed her laughter to loop in his head. 

His next spell struck true, completely obliterating his target, save for the mist of dust floating in the air, some landing on Neville's robes and hair. He breathed in the burning scent of destruction and smiled. 

Neville was kneeling in the pile of dust when Theo found him. The dummies were all gone and Neville felt a bit wild, a bit mad. The air was thick with his magic, the remnants of his rage. 

Neville looked up at Theo, chest heaving. Theo said nothing, only giving him a questioning look. 

“Don't want to talk about it,” Neville said. 

Theo nodded. “Whatever you need.” 

Neville stood up and made an attempt at dusting himself off. It was mostly futile as he was completely covered in grains of blasted leather and stuffing. He looked into Theo's eyes, trying to determine the emotion behind his expression. It didn't appear to be pity. 

Neville wanted to run into Theo's arms. Collapse into him, allow Theo to hold him up. But he couldn't fall apart yet. Neville thought that if Theo even touched him at all, he'd combust into a mist of viscera. 

“So,’’ Neville said. He clapped his hands together. “Potions?” 

“Lead on them,” Theo said, his voice sounding strained. 

Theo didn't give Neville any instructions, so he just flipped through his textbook and selected something at random. Neville gathered ingredients: lacewing flies, doxy blood, boomslang skin, arrowroot. 

Theo sat quietly on the stool next to Neville, just observing. 

Neville brought the cauldron to a boil and poured in the doxy blood. Plucked the wings off the flies and ground their bodies into a paste. Things started to fall apart when Neville began chopping the arrowroot. He narrowly avoided slicing his hand open when his hand started to shake, causing the knife to slip out of his hands to clatter onto the tabletop. 

“My gloves,’’ Neville sighed helplessly. He had forgotten them. Useless. 

Neville started to pick up his knife, but Theo was faster. He plucked it up and moved his stool closer, sweeping the arrowroot in front of him to take over chopping. 

It was that quiet bit of tenderness that caused Neville to finally break. He picked up the stirring rod and it dropped from his hands. His face was wet, he realized. He breathed in, making a sort of pathetic strangled sound. 

Theo looked over at Neville, took out his wand, and with a whispered spell the cauldron was encased in a bubble, paused mid-boil. 

“I'm okay,” Neville said, sucking in a breath, “I can keep going.” 

“You're not okay,” Theo said softly. 

“I can finish this,” Neville argued. 

“You picked a sensitive potion,” Theo remarked, “If anything else got mixed in, sodium for example, it could explode.”

“Oh.”

“It's time to stop, Neville,” Theo said gently. 

Neville's shoulders sank. He was limp, suddenly. Boneless. Theo was there then, pulling Neville to his feet. Theo's arm snaked around Neville's waist as he led him over to the couch and didn't let go as they sat down together. Neville's eyes fell shut as Theo used his free hand to pick the dust out of Neville's hair and used his thumb to swipe the tears on his cheeks. 

With a gentle hand on Neville's back, Theo pulled him close to him. “Let go, honey,” he whispered. 

So, Neville let go. He fell into the front of Theo's robes, body shaking with sobs. He cried for his parents. He cried for himself. He cried for the life they could have had together. 

Neville wept like a child while Theo held him. Theo was speaking softly, just saying things like: “I've got you” and “I'm here” and “honey”. There were lips, pressed against the top of Neville's head, a warm hand rubbing his back. At some point, Neville's head had fallen against Theo's chest and he could hear the heartbeat against his ear. Steady. Neville breathed, mimicking the rise and fall of Theo's chest. When Neville's tears stopped, he realized he was quite tired. Perhaps he had been tired for a long time. 

“There were four of them who did it,” Neville finally said, his voice coming out rough and strained, “The Lestranges and Barty Crouch Junior.” 

“The imposter,” Theo said. 

“He was kind to me,” Neville said, “Invited me for tea after the lesson where he showed us all the Unforgivable Curses. He said that he knew it must have been difficult for me to watch, but it was important for us to learn about. That he hoped I wouldn't hate him for it.” 

“Nev,” Theo sighed. 

“He kept inviting me for tea after that. He gave me books about Herbology. I found out later that he was hoping that I would read them and tell Harry to use gillyweed for the second task. I was too useless for that apparently. But he also told me stories about my parents. Funny things. Real things. Because all I ever hear is ‘They were so brave' or ‘They loved you so much'. Nothing substantial, not even from Gran.” 

Theo's fingers were threading through Neville's hair. 

“But it was all lies,” Neville continued, “He didn't know them. I don't think they had even met before that night. He didn't really know my mum's favorite flower or what my parents did on their first date. What they argued about. He lied to me, day after day, and I never questioned him at all. Just ate up everything he had to say because I was starving for it.” 

“That’s horrible,” Theo said quietly. 

“Some people think the Dementor's Kiss is the worst thing that could happen to someone. Losing your soul, what could compare to that? But when I found out Crouch got kissed, I thought that it wasn't enough. Too easy, I thought. I wanted him to suffer more. All of them to suffer more. I'm not sure I could ever be satisfied. I would want more and more. Because it won't bring my parents back, but I could keep taking from them until maybe they understood. Maybe could regret it.” 

Theo pulled Neville closer. 

“Theo,” Neville gasped, “it's terrifying. I'm terrified by my own thoughts. I don't want to want all of that. You've said so many times that I'm a good person, but I'm so filled with rage and spite. How can I be good?” 

“I've killed my father in my mind thousands of times. In thousands of ways,” Theo said, “like you, I know I couldn't be satisfied from it. I wouldn't get what he took from me. But the urge is still there. The rage and the spite, as you said. When he's in front of me, I know I could kill him. He takes the potions I brew for him and never even checks them for poison. It would be easy for me, but I don't do it. And I don't think you would either.”

“How can you be sure of that?” Neville said, moving up to meet Theo's warm eyes. 

“You said your feelings terrify you,” Theo said, “People like The Lestranges, Crouch, and my father aren't afraid of those feelings. They feel vindicated by them. They do all sorts of horrible things because of them. They hurt the people who hurt them, if they can, but when there's no satisfaction they turn toward others.” 

Theo moved his hand out of Neville's hair and cupped his jaw. “You haven't hurt anyone,” Theo said. 

Neville laughed. “Well, there was that whole thing with Crabbe and Goyle,” he said, “Though I guess I wasn't really successful.” 

Theo smiled softly, “I don't think you'd hurt anyone without a really good reason and I think you'd stop when you needed to stop.” 

“You really think so?” 

“Yeah,’’ Theo said, “because you're like the sun, Nev, you're like everything that's beautiful and good.” 

Theo's expression was so soft and he was staring at Neville in a way that seemed almost reverent. 

Neville felt like an open wound, exposed, but it wasn't bad. He had shown Theo his broken jagged pieces and for some reason Theo still called him beautiful and good. Like he really truly believed it. 

“What did you call me?” Neville asked in a hoarse whisper.

“Nev?”

“No,” Neville said, “Before.” 

Theo closed his eyes, took a breath as his cheeks turned a beautiful pink. Theo opened his eyes once more, stared directly at Neville, and said “Honey.” 

Neville took a shuddering breath as his heart beat wildly in his chest. 

Neville was a mess, covered in tears, sweat, and debris. When he had pictured this moment, he hadn't imagined looking like this, eyes swollen and wrung out like a dirty dishcloth. 

But he leaned in and kissed Theo anyway. 

Chapter Text

When Theodore felt Neville's lips hit his own, he froze. His mind stuttered. His thoughts vanished. There was only warmth, sensation, and Neville. 

Neville. Finally, Neville. 

And if Theodore didn't start kissing him back soon, Neville might think he didn't want to be kissed. Which could not happen, because oh how he wanted. 

Theodore ran his thumb across Neville's jaw and pulled him closer. Neville sighed sweetly, parting his lips to let Theodore in. Theodore ran his tongue across Neville's bottom lip and pulled it into his mouth to suck on it. When Neville's tongue entered Theodore's mouth, it was slow and a bit unsure, so Theodore made sure to welcome it enthusiastically, pressing his own into Neville's mouth. 

Neville's hands were clutching the front of Theodore's robes, pulling him closer in a way that felt desperate. When Theodore had imagined this moment, he thought Neville would taste sweet and citrusy, like a lemon pie perhaps. But he was ashy from obliterated practice dummies, staticy from spellfire. It was breathtaking. An inferno against Theodore's mouth. 

They pulled apart, gasping for air. Neville's eyes were focused on Theodore's, an oasis of cool water. There was ash on his face, stuck in his long curled eyelashes, caked in places. Neville's cheeks were brilliantly flushed, lips swollen. 

“Fuck,” Theodore breathed, his eyes moving over Neville to capture every detail. 

There was a flash of fear in Neville's eyes. “Is this okay?” he choked out. 

Theodore's heart lurched. “It's good, honey,” he said quickly to reassure, “So good. You're so good.” 

Neville smiled and Theodore moved in to press kisses to the dimples that formed. Kissed each warm cheek. Then moved back to Neville's mouth and captured it again. Theodore ran his fingers through Neville's hair and Neville groaned in a lovely way that took Theodore's breath away. 

Theodore felt frenzied as he kissed Neville deeper, overwhelmed by the need to claim. When they broke apart again to breathe, Theodore moved his head down to run his lips and tongue across Neville's throat. He tried to somehow express the depth of his feelings with each tender kiss down Neville's neck. 

“Theo,” Neville sighed, soft and breathy. 

Theodore buried his head into Neville's neck, nuzzling. Every inch of him was so smooth and soft. Theodore wanted to touch, to kiss, every single part. He wanted to lay Neville beneath him and draw a map on his skin. Neville kissed the top of Theodore's head and stroked his hair like he loved so much. 

“Merlin,” Neville said, “I'm disgusting.” 

Theodore lifted his head to fix Neville with an intense gaze. “You absolutely are not,” he said forcefully. 

Neville laughed then. “I mean literally, Theo. Look at the state of me. I need to be scoured. And I've gotten it all on you as well.” 

Theodore grinned, diving in to give Neville a hard peck on the lips. “Worth it,” he said. 

Neville smiled sheepishly. “Well, if you insist.” 

“I do insist,” Theodore said. 

Neville lunged forward to kiss Theodore enthusiastically, placing his hands on each side of Theodore's jaw. Theodore licked into Neville's mouth, feeling a bit high on it all, still wondering absently if he was dreaming this all up. 

The reverie was interrupted by Neville's stomach growling. 

They laughed against each other's mouths. Neville leaned back, hiding his face in his hands. “Shit, that's embarrassing.” 

“I brought you some dinner,” Theodore said, “Sorry, slipped my mind.” 

Neville peeked at him from between his fingers. “You're so nice to me,’’ he said. 

“It’s easy being nice to you,” Theodore said simply. 

Neville uncovered his face and Theodore was nearly overcome by the wave of tenderness that washed over him. Theodore removed his arm from around Neville's waist, kissed his temple, and got up to fetch the excessive amount of hand pies the House-elves in the kitchen had loaded into a paper sack. 

When Theodore sat back down he said “Eventually we need to talk about this habit you have of skipping meals. Three a day, it's important.” 

“I know,” Neville said, “I just can't be around all those people sometimes. Especially today.” 

Theodore nodded solemnly. He had seen throughout the day how everyone couldn't seem to keep their hands off Neville. How they pulled and prodded him. It was nauseating. Theodore had spent most of the day clenching his fists, resisting the urge to raise his wand and blast interlopers out of Neville's path. Theodore set some napkins on the couch beside each of them and began divvying up the pies. “I haven't had dinner either,” he admitted. 

“Tsk, tsk,” Neville said, waggling a finger. 

“Well, I was worried about you, wasn't I?” 

Neville's face fell. “I'm sorry,” he said, “I don't want to worry you.” 

“I wouldn't have it any other way,” Theodore said. 

Neville cocked his head. “What do you mean?” 

Theodore wrinkled his brow, searching for the right words. “You came into my life and now I don't think I could ever let you go. I want to be a part of all your days, good and bad. I want to be someone you can lean on if you need to. I’d much rather worry about you than not know what's going on with you at all.” 

“I want to be the same for you,” Neville said, “I don't think I've ever really leaned on anyone before. Or had them lean on me. But I want to try. I, er, feel safe around you.” 

Theodore thought about Daphne, who very badly wanted to be a person for Theodore to lean on. Theodore just couldn't get there with her. He couldn't open up all the way, and maybe it was because he had preemptively closed doors to her when they met as children. 

Something about Neville caused Theodore to crack open and for once in his life, Theodore wasn't scrambling to put himself back together. He wanted Neville to see him and not look away. 

Neville was holding a pie in both hands, nibbling at it like a chipmunk. Theodore felt so full of fondness he could burst. 

“I just think you're so lovely,” Theodore said, voice thick.

Neville blushed as he finished up his pie. There was a scattering of crumbs around his mouth. Theodore would kiss them off later. 

“I decided when I was just a kid that I needed to close myself off. It was just easier, I thought, to not acknowledge some parts of my life. I didn't even question it until I met you,” Theodore said. 

“I like it when you open up,” Neville said, “I want to know everything about you.” 

“I want that too,” Theodore said, because he did want it. But when he imagined telling Neville about his father, his chest hurt.  “I think some things are still too hard.” 

“We have time, yeah?” Neville picked up Theodore's hand and kissed his knuckles. “Besides,” he said, “I mean the mundane things too. Like I don't know how you like your tea or your favourite colour.” 

“One sugar, just a splash of milk,” Theodore said. He thought about Neville's eyes when he said, “My favourite colour is blue. Light blue.” 

“Gran says I like a bit of tea with my milk and honey,” Neville said, “and I like green. Y'know, leafy green. Plants and all.” 

“Favourite animal?” Theodore asked. 

“Ducks,” Neville said immediately. 

“Huh, I wasn't expecting that,” Theodore said. 

“What did you envision?” 

“Well, I know you have a toad, Trevor, right?” Theodore asked. Neville nodded and Theodore continued, “but I was thinking maybe a dog? Golden retriever, perhaps?” 

“I do like dogs. But I dunno, ducks are neat. When I'm home for the summer, I go to the pond every day and watch the ducks. Bring them snacks and such. I even talk to them sometimes. I know that's probably strange.” 

“That's adorable,’’ Theodore said. 

“Your favourite animal, then?” 

“They'll kick me out of Slytherin if this gets out, but I've always been fond of big cats. Lions, Tigers, Panthers and such,” Theodore admitted. 

Neville gasped. “I was actually thinking about getting you a lion.” 

Theodore raised an eyebrow. 

“Stuffed animal,” Neville clarified, “A real lion would be a bit problematic.” 

“You want to get me a stuffed animal?” The idea made Theodore's throat feel strangely tight. 

“I just kind of imagined it and thought it would be cute. I dunno.” 

Theodore thought back. “I don't think I've ever had one.” 

They were a strange pair, Theodore thought because Neville looked more shocked by that fact than he had looked when Theodore told him his father had murdered his mother. 

“Well, you have to have one now, obviously,” Neville stated, seeming frightfully indignant on Theodore's behalf. 

“Obviously,” Theodore drawled, smirking. “Why were you thinking of a lion, though?” 

“Irony,” Neville said and then breathlessly added “and I thought having it would maybe make you think of me.” 

“I don't need anything to think of you. You're already always on my mind,” Theodore said, sap freely flowing from his mouth like it was the trunk of a maple tree. 

Neville's eyes crinkled. “You say the loveliest things.” 

“All for you, honey,” Theodore said. 

Around Neville, Theodore was just a blazing ball of sentiment. Really, he should be more embarrassed by it, but Neville responded to Theodore's tender words so nicely. 

Neville put away the extra pies and napkins hastily, clearing space so he could slide closer to Theodore and kiss him gently. 

“Tell me something else?’’ Neville asked. 

“I've been wanting to kiss you for ages. I didn't think I'd ever find the courage,” Theodore said. 

“Good thing I'm a Gryffindor, eh?” 

“Terminally,” Theodore teased. 

They began kissing again in earnest, and Theodore thought that despite the pain and horror in his life, he still might be the luckiest person alive. 

Later, Theodore and Neville were thoroughly worn out, tangled together on the couch. Neville was petting Theodore's hair, eyes half-closed. 

“Can I ask you something?” Neville asked. 

“Sure,” Theodore said. 

“Maybe it should be obvious, but I need things spelled out for me sometimes. So, erm,” Neville groaned, “Merlin, this is embarrassing.” 

“You can ask me anything,” Theodore said. 

Neville shifted, steadying himself. “I guess what I want to know is how you see, erm, all of this,” He gestured vaguely between them. 

“Best thing that's ever happened in my life,” Theodore said without pause. 

Neville laughed. “Okay, but like, do you want to be my boyfriend or-” 

“Oh yeah,” Theodore said, kissing Neville's neck, “I absolutely want to be your boyfriend.” 

Neville grinned. “Great, because I want that.” 

Theodore wanted to bask in the contentment he now felt, but unfortunately, there was something else he needed to address. 

“I'm not really ready to tell you everything about my father. I want to someday, I promise. But erm, he can't find out about this. It could be really bad for both of us and I need you to be safe. Draco already gave him information about me over the holidays. It was bad. When I turn seventeen, I can get away from him. I know that's a long time to wait, but would you be willing to keep this between us and our closest friends until then?” 

“Of course,’’ Neville said without a moment of hesitation. 

“You're so good,” Theodore said, “I want to shout it from the top of the astronomy tower, honestly.” 

“Good idea for your seventeenth birthday party,” Neville said wryly, “Although now I'm realizing that I don't know your birthday.” 

“April 20th,” Theodore said. 

“Oh!” Neville exclaimed, eyes growing wide, “That's soon! Mine's July 30th.” 

“Summer,” Theodore groused. 

“I'll just have to work extra hard to get my birthday kiss then,” Neville said, a little smirk playing on his lips. 

It was reckless, but Theodore thought he might do just about anything to make sure Neville got a kiss on his birthday. 

“Circling back, though, Malfoy was feeding your father information about you? What the fuck?” Neville's eyes were blazing now, cheeks puffed, looking angry in a way that was a bit adorable. 

Theodore kissed Neville sloppily on each rosy cheek. Neville's face softened, but still looked at Theodore intently, waiting for an explanation. Theodore knew that if wanted to table the discussion, Neville would immediately acquiesce. Neville never tried to take anything Theodore didn't want to give him, which was precisely why Theodore found himself wanting to give Neville so much. 

Theodore needed to tell Neville about Draco, though. Neville needed to know to avoid that pointy little prat. 

“Granger and I stayed back after Ancient Runes one day to speak about my completely noble and innocent intentions towards you,’’ Theodore began. 

“Innocent, eh?’’ Neville raised an eyebrow. 

Theodore looked over Neville in a way that was most decidedly not innocent. “Anyway,” Theodore continued, not letting himself get distracted, “Draco noticed. Blaise even warned me that Draco wanted to tell his father about it. I guess I didn't really believe he would.” 

“Why would Malfoy want to go that far though? What did you ever do to him?” 

“Blaise reckons I damaged Draco's fragile ego because I don't really want to be a part of his little gang. We were cordial enough before now, but Draco was inclined to believe that I would be more willing to be his lap dog this year and I made sure he knew I wouldn't be,” Theodore explained. 

“Pompous prick,’’ Neville muttered. 

“Unfortunately, I think I may have made it worse,” Theodore winced at the admission, “Draco decided to boast about how he had spoken to my father and I, erm, got angry and implied something about Draco he didn't like.” 

“Implied what?” 

“That he has a huge crush on Harry Potter,” Theodore said. 

“Ew!” Neville scrunched up his lips in revulsion, “Why in Circe's name would you imply such a thing?” 

“Because Draco Malfoy has a huge crush on Harry Potter,” Theodore said. 

Neville sat up, staring at Theodore incredulously. “No way, you've got to be joking.” 

“Afraid not,” Theodore said darkly, “I've shared a dorm with him for four and a half years. I've picked up on some things.” 

“Wow,” Neville said. He took on a thoughtful expression, his eyes moving sideways and upward, “Huh. Well, he's certainly a bit obsessive over Harry.” 

“Understatement,” Theodore said. 

“Terry would have kittens,” Neville said with a gleam in his eyes, “Not that I'd tell him, mind.” 

“I would hope not,” Theodore said dryly. 

“I guess I don't get why someone would be so mean to someone if they liked them. Like I understand the concept, just seems counterproductive,” Neville mused. 

He really was the sweetest fucking thing. 

“You don't ever want to be mean to me? Even a little bit?” Theodore asked, staring at Neville's soft pink lips. 

“Only in good ways,” Neville said. 

They kissed each other again, but slowly and sleepily. Theodore allowed himself to imagine a night where Neville and he might go to bed together, exchanging slow kisses before holding each other to sleep. Maybe in a home they lived in together with no war hanging over their heads. 

A greenhouse. A potions lab. A pond full of ducks. 

“OWLs,” Neville said suddenly. 

“Yes?” Theodore asked, a bit startled. 

“We have to pass our OWLs, Theo. We can't be snogging all the time,” Neville said, flushed and determined. 

Theodore kissed his forehead. “I'll keep us on track,” he promised. 

“And,” Neville looked at his wrist, “Buggering fuck. Curfew.” 

They reluctantly untangled their limbs and gathered their belongings. One of Neville's shoes hit Theodore on the shoulder when Neville summoned them from across the room. Neville insisted on “kissing it better” which caused several minutes of distraction before they finally parted for the night. 

Theodore made it to the Slytherin Common Room with minutes to spare. At first, he thought the room was empty and made his way over to climb the stairs, but was interrupted by a loud cough. 

Daphne was sitting on the couch next to the fireplace, grinning at Theodore devilishly while Tracey read a book next to her. 

“So, you've finally done it,” Daphne said when Theodore approached. 

“That obvious, huh?” Theodore asked, unable to keep the smile off his face. 

She shook her head fondly. “About time,” she said, “but did you snog him in a trash heap? What's all over your robes?” 

Theodore looked down at his robes, covered in ashy flecks. “He, er, blew some stuff up.” 

“Kinky,” Daphne said. 

“Not during,” Theodore said, laughing. 

“Well, I suppose it was one of those days, wasn't it?” Daphne said softly. 

“Your turn, then?” Theodore said, pointedly looking over at Tracey who was still absorbed in the pages of her book. 

In response, Daphne lifted her hand showing how it was currently entwined with Tracey's. “Done. I win.” Tracey still didn't lower her book, but now was wearing a sideways smirk. 

“That's brilliant, Daph,” Theodore said, grinning, “but perhaps we should compare timestamps before you just declare yourself the winner.” 

“It's based on time elapsed between acknowledging the feelings and action,” Daphne said, “Ergo, I win.” 

“Fine,” Theodore huffed. Besides, it had been Neville who made the first move anyway. And hadn't that been a marvel?  

“I think we'll have the whole dorm to ourselves tonight as Pansy is still in the hospital wing and dear Millie is there standing vigil,” Daphne drawled. 

“Then what on earth are you two still doing down here?” Theodore asked. 

“Waiting on you,” Daphne said, shaking her head with a soft smile, ‘’Idiot.” 

“Oh,” Theodore said, filled with fondness for his friend. His best friend, who cared so fiercely for him. 

He thought back to the conversation he and Daphne had by the same fireplace, the night he told her about his feelings for Neville. Daphne had confessed that she was afraid of doing anything solely for herself. Now she had gone after Tracey, seizing her own happiness. Theodore was so proud that it choked him up a bit. 

Theodore thought that if he could open up to Neville, he could give more of himself to Daphne as well. 

Leaning closer, Theodore lowered his voice to a whisper. “Did you curse Pansy?” 

Daphne giggled. “Unfortunately, I can't claim that honor.” She tilted her head, bopping Tracey on the shoulder. 

“You?” Theodore hissed at Tracey. 

“Well, she said something completely horrid to my friend's sweet little boyfriend,” Tracey said flatly. 

Theodore glared daggers at Daphne, who only shrugged. 

“Honestly,” Tracey said, putting her book down, “It's astonishing how shocked people are when I notice things that are right in front of my eyes. It's all over your face every time you look at him. Which is constantly, by the way.” 

Theodore gaped at her. 

“Shall we go to bed, darling?” Tracey asked Daphne, kissing the back of her hand. 

“Goodnight Theo,” Daphne said with rapidly reddening cheeks. 

“Night, you two,” Theodore said. 

He watched Tracey and Daphne nearly knock each other over in their shared eagerness to get upstairs. 

Theodore was happy. Overjoyed, in fact. There was a hopeful whisper in his mind that told him that maybe he could keep this feeling, so warm in his chest.  

Chapter Text

Honey. 

Neville watched, mesmerized, as golden honey dripped from the wooden spoon in his hand and pooled onto his toast. There was no other way he could possibly take his toast this morning, or perhaps ever again. 

Neville was seeing the world through a golden haze. He was warm, sticky with feelings that were tooth-achingly sweet. There was a small bruise, right under Neville's collar, a spot where Theo had gotten carried away. When Neville snuck his finger there and lightly pressed it, he smiled. Not a ruse. Not a trick of the mind. 

Theo had kissed Neville like it was a physical need, regarded him with blown out eyes like Theo would perish if he didn't touch him. Theo's stoic mask had cracked most spectacularly to reveal pure unbridled want and Neville remained surprised and so grateful that he could be the one to cause that. 

Neville wanted to live in the snug spot where kissing Theo had been the only significant event of the previous day. It was certainly what Neville's mind kept coming back to. Everything else felt distant.

The Great Hall was quieter than usual, with less chatter and laughter. All around, solemn faces studied this their copies of The Daily Prophet. Even those who still refused to believe that Lord Voldemort had returned could undoubtedly recognize that something dark was approaching. Ten Death Eaters, the worst of the worst, were free to take revenge in whatever twisted way they desired. Even if someone was still idiotic enough to believe there was no living Dark Lord for them all to rally behind, it was a terrifying concept. 

“No real news,” Hermione said with a huff, her newspaper landing against the table with a smack “Just blaming all the wrong people as usual.” 

Neville had attracted a protective detail of Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Luna. He was surrounded by them on all sides, boxed in. There were already fewer stares and comments in Neville's direction. Anyone who got too close was subjected to Ginny hissing and snarling at them like a kneazle dropped in a bathtub. 

“Alright, Nev?” Ron asked, pointedly looking from Neville's hand to his toast. 

Neville had spaced out, thinking, and now there was a frankly obscene amount of honey soaking through his toast. “Oh,” he said. He put the spoon back in the honey pot and grabbed a second piece of toast to smash against the first one. A sandwich. Neville lifted it to his lips and took a sweet sloppy bite. 

“My parents would perish,’’ Hermione said with a grimace. 

“‘'S good,” Neville replied with a sticky grin, “Feel like bathing in honey today.” 

Everyone just nodded at him like that made sense. Neville supposed that when the arseholes who tortured his parents into insanity broke out of prison, he was given a certain allowance for saying things that sounded mental.

He had an allowance for looking strange as well, he gathered. Neville had looked frightful when he returned to Gryffindor Tower after meeting Theo. He had spent nearly an hour in the shower, exhausted, scrubbing himself down. His dorm mates all looked like they were dying to say something about it, but everyone kept their mouth shut. Including Seamus. 

“Nev, did you see your, er,” Harry dropped his voice to a murmur, “coin?” 

Neville's DA coin had indeed warmed up that morning, informing him of a meeting that evening. He nodded at Harry, mouth full of toast. 

“People were asking, but if you'd rather not come-” Harry began. 

“I'll be there,” Neville said, “It's the best thing we could be doing right now.” 

The second best thing, actually. 

Like the day before, Neville spent most of his classes in a distracted haze, though now the source of the distraction differed. He wasn't sure how much longer his Professors would put up with it, but most of them were letting him be. 

Classes with Theo only increased the distraction, and both of their shared lessons, Creatures and Potions, happened to be held on that day. 

In Care of Magical Creatures, they split into groups to gather treacle from Glumbumble hives. Everyone was wearing strange formerly white but now stained yellow protective suits with netted hats. Neville was quietly grateful to Umbridge for one specific thing, because he was certain that if Hagrid wasn't so worried about losing his job, they wouldn't be wearing the protective gear and would most likely be running around getting stung. 

Neville held a smoker in his hands, keeping the hive calm with occasional puffs, while Harry, Ron, and Hermione took on the brunt of the labour. 

“Smells good,” Harry commented. Everyone who knew Harry was aware of his passion for treacle tart. It was potentially the only reason he weighed anything at all. Unfortunately, even though the treacle the group was digging out of the hives looked and smelled like the kind in Harry's preferred desert, it induced an intense melancholy when consumed. 

“Lick it,” Ron dared, “I’ll give you ten galleons.” 

“You haven't got ten galleons,” Harry laughed. 

“I might have. Go on, then. Give it a taste.” 

Ron dipped his finger in the treacle and extended it towards Harry who playfully snapped at it. 

“Boys!” Hermione groaned, “Honestly. Hagrid will be cross if he catches you two goofing about.” 

Hagrid stood near Lavender and Parvati, goofing about, letting the Glumbumbles gather in his massive beard while the girls giggled at him. 

Neville glanced at Theo who was working in the distance. Pansy Parkinson, no longer covered in boils but still blotchy and a bit purple, stood near him holding the smoker and scowling. Neville was in awe that Theo somehow made the crinkled and droopy suit look so good on him. Newt Scamander, eat your heart out. Neville wanted Theo to take him into the woods and press him against a tree. 

“Nev, mate, I think they're getting angry,” Ron said in a strained voice. 

Sure enough, the dull buzzing of the Glumbumbles was getting louder and more menacing. Neville quickly puffed smoke in their direction, trying not to imagine yanking that weird netted hat off of Theo's head and snogging him senseless. 

What had he said about passing his OWLs? Suddenly, it didn't matter all that much. Good Godric, Neville was absolutely gone for Theo now, incapable of rational thoughts or behavior. 

“Neville, I don't need smoke directly in my face, thank you,” said Hermione in a much kinder tone than she would normally use for such an offense. 

“Sorry,” Neville said with a weak smile. 

From the corner of his eye, Neville watched as Theo entered the potions storeroom. His stomach gave a delighted flip, and he stood up rather abruptly. 

“I need to go get,” Neville looked down at the table he was sharing with Hermione, seeing all the ingredients they needed accounted for and meticulously placed, “a thing,” he finished flatly.

Hermione made a sound of protest, but Neville took off towards the storeroom, wanting just a moment alone with Theo. Just a chance to share a whispered hello or brush past each other. 

When Neville walked into the storeroom, Theo wasn't browsing any shelves. He was standing and facing the door. Waiting, Neville realized. Theo was expecting Neville to follow him. 

With a furtive smile, Theo flicked his wand, locking the door. Before Neville could say anything, Theo had him pinned against the door, kissing the air out of his lungs. Neville reached up to run his hands through Theo's hair then moved it down to the nape of his neck. 

Theo broke away, grinning. “Hey, honey,” he said, “Missed you.”

“Wow,” Neville said, breathless and lightheaded, “Hi.” 

The doorknob jiggled against Neville's back and there was a whiny voice from the outside. “Professor Snape,” Parkinson called, “The storeroom is locked!” 

Neville shot Theo a panicked look but Theo returned it with a breezy sort of smile. He pressed a weird gnarled stalk in Neville's hand, pulled him forward, smoothed down his robes, and then cast another spell to unlock the door. 

Theo brushed past Neville casually and nodded at Snape who was standing in the doorway with his wand raised. 

“Maybe something's faulty with your wards schema,” Theo drawled as he strolled past. 

“There is nothing faulty with my wards schema,” Snape said through gritted teeth as Neville quickly followed Theo out the door, eyes firmly on the stone floor. 

Neville lumbered back over to his station, dropped down onto his stool, and placed whatever Theo had handed him on the work table. 

Hermione glanced over at it, brows furrowed. She narrowed her eyes at Neville. “And why would we need petrified contorted beech?” she asked. 

“Er,” Neville fumbled, before a passage he had recently read bloomed into his mind's-eye, “If we dunk it in as we're adding the lime, it will dilute much easier. Less of a chance of sediment at the bottom.” 

“That's not in the textbook,” Hermione said warily. 

“Mr. Longbottom is correct,” came Snape's deep voice from behind, “Though I struggle to believe he came across that information on his own.” 

A little later, when Theo dunked his own petrified contorted beech in his cauldron, Snape awarded him ten points to Slytherin. Neville had to put his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing as Hermione swore colourfully under her breath. 

They were practicing shield charms in the DA meeting. Neville thought his shield was fairly decent, but so far all Luna had been casting at it was streams of blue butterflies and rainbows of ribbons. 

Neville would be irritated if his partner had been anyone else. He would feel like he was being coddled. But his partner was Luna and she was only being herself. She was comfortable in her odd consistency. 

“You have fewer whackspurts today,” Luna commented idly, “That's good.” 

“Today is better,” Neville said. 

“You have something else though,” Luna tilted her head, gazing over Neville with dreamy eyes, “Looks a bit like Glumbumbles actually, but brighter. Yellow.” 

“Honeybees?” 

“Yes, honeybees. That's it. I was going to say there wasn't any melancholy,” she said. 

Neville smiled at a wave of bluebirds flew towards his shield to uselessly peck at it.  

“I would go so far as to say you're not bothered,” Luna said. 

“Not bothered?” 

“Mhm,” Luna hummed with a drawn out nod, “Nott bothered.” 

Neville felt himself flush and in his distraction, Luna cast a perfect stunner at his shield. The shield absorbed its impact but shattered after. 

Luna winked. “Stay sharp, Longbottom.”

Neville put up another hasty shield charm. “How is it that you seem to know everything?’’ 

“I'm a journalist,” Luna said. She cast another spell that Neville didn't recognize, which went right through his shield and hit right under his neck. It didn't hurt though. He looked down and realized that his tie was now green and silver. “Shields can't block everything,” Luna tutted, “You have to dodge as well.” 

Unfortunately, Neville wasn't thinking about his shield charm or dodging. He was only imagining wearing Theo's tie. He winced as a stinging hex hit his thigh. He had accidentally dropped his shield completely. Before he could counter, a tripping jinx had him sprawled out on the floor. 

“Alright, Nev?” Terry said from somewhere nearby. 

Luna was twirling her wand in her hand with a vulpine grin. “Neville's just got a head full of honeybees,” she said sweetly. 

Neville leapt to his feet, wand out. “Incarcerous!” Neville waved his wand, conjuring ropes to wrap around Luna, who immediately cut them off with a shield charm. 

General assignment forgotten, the pair began dueling. Neville cast out his arsenal of offensive spells, while Luna sprinkled in a variety of distractions like conjuring a little cloud that rained over Neville's head. 

Her technique was just as odd as she was, but effective. It definitely kept Neville on his toes. Quite literally at one point, because Luna cast a spell on his feet that forced him to walk en pointe. Neville was particularly proud of a quick bit of spellwork that caused Luna's radish earrings to bite at her cheeks. He used that distraction to summon over stacks of cushions to serve as a physical shield. 

It was a decent plan, but Luna turned it against him by transfiguring them into garden gnomes which immediately began to attack Neville's ankles as well as some of the people who had paused their own work to watch him and Luna. 

Neville sent one of the gnomes flying at Luna. It landed on her chest and climbed up her robes. Luna sweetly kissed the grubby little thing on the forehead before turning it back into a cushion and sending it tumbling back towards Neville's head. Before it could reach him, Neville shot a bombarda at it in the air, making it explode in a shower or sparks. 

Neville threw up a strong shield that Luna's expelliarmus bounced off uselessly. For a fraction of a second, Luna's eyes moved upward in thought and Neville seized the opportunity to shoot a stunner at her. She made a small shocked face as it struck true and knocked her out. 

The room erupted in applause as Neville walked over to Luna to revive her. When he pulled her up, Luna laughed and pulled him into a warm hug. Lighthearted, Neville lifted her and swung her around. 

Harry was grinning at them. “When you're up against Death Eaters, all the rules go out the window. You have to expect the unexpected and give it back to them just as hard,” he told the group, “Good work tonight everyone. Keep your eyes on your coins for the next meeting.”  

Neville stood next to Luna as people left the Room of Requirement in small groups. “You ought to speak to Ginny,” she said. 

“I know,” Neville said, “It's just that I want to focus on the good things that are happening, but I know she's going to want to talk about that other thing.” 

“I think you'll feel better if you discuss both the honeybees and the Glumbumbles,” Luna said sagely. 

“Did you know? About my mum and dad?” 

“Of course,” Luna said softly, “I'm a journalist.” 

“You never said anything,” Neville said, “But I reckon I never expected you to either.” 

“It wasn't time,” Luna said. 

Neville wondered, not for the first time, exactly how Luna's brain worked. Sometimes her words sounded prophetic. Other times they were just strange. There was a kinship there, Neville felt. Luna's general demeanor was dreamy and unbothered, but he could tell there was a part of her that was just as desperate for acceptance as he was. 

“Ginny's leaving,” Luna remarked, nudging him gently, “Go with her.” 

Neville caught up to Ginny in an awkward lope and fell into step beside her as they walked out of the Room of Requirement. 

“Bedtime snack?” he offered. 

“I suppose,’’ Ginny said with a shrug. 

On the walk to the kitchens, Ginny occasionally looked over at Neville with words half-formed on her lips, but turned away before speaking them. Neville felt tense, with a nagging anxiety that made him want to turn around and put off this conversation for longer. 

Once in the kitchens, Neville and Ginny were ushered to the hearth by a huddle of excited elves who laid trays of chamomile tea and biscuits upon them. The biscuits were honey-flavoured shortbread, of course.  

For quite some time the only sounds present were the clack of mugs against the tray, small splashes of biscuits being dipped in the tea, chewing, and the house-elves bustling in the background. 

Neville couldn't recall ever feeling this wall of tension between him and Ginny. It had always been easy with them. He worried it was irreparable, but still didn't know what to say. She wasn't talking either. 

Eventually he settled on: “I thought you knew.” 

Ginny let out a choked noise, mouth still full of biscuit. Panicked, Neville clapped her on the back. She managed to swallow and gulped down some tea before finally looking at Neville with a wounded expression. 

“You thought I knew and never said anything?” she asked incredulously. 

Neville looked away, uncomfortable with her piercing stare. “It's not a nice thing to talk about. I understand why people wouldn't want to.” 

“I care about everything in your life, Nev. Not just the things that are nice to speak about,” Ginny said sharply. 

“I just,” Neville sighed, slumping over, “I don't like thinking about them if I'm honest. And I know that makes me an awful son. Maybe I am ashamed like Gran said. Not of them or their condition, but that they've set this impossible standard for me. How could I measure up?” 

“I don't think I've mentioned it, but I don't care much for your Gran,” Ginny remarked. 

Neville found himself laughing softly. 

“She's a bit shit, isn't she?” he choked out, wiping away a small tear that had formed in the corner of his eye. 

“I swear when she insulted you, I was ready to make that ugly bird on her head peck her eyes out,” Ginny said. 

Neville snorted. “Can't say I haven't had that thought a time or two.” 

They looked at each other and smiled. Ginny scrunched up her freckled nose and they both fell into a fit of giggles. 

When they were a bit calmer, Neville spoke again. “I feel like we all grew up being told how terrible the war was, but nobody is ever specific. They just go on and on about how bad and scary it was. So maybe that's why people didn't know about my parents.” 

“People are too scared to even say Voldemort's name, let alone actually talk about what he's done and what he's up to now,” Ginny said darkly. 

“How are we meant to fight if nobody will even tell us what to expect?” 

Ginny shook her head. “It's fucked up,’’ she said, “We're just kids. But it seems kind of inevitable that this fight will fall to us.” 

Harry's parents had only been twenty-one years old when they died. Neville's dad had lost his sanity at only twenty-four. His mum was a bit older at thirty. Still, way too young. They never got a chance to live. 

“Back when the dementors came, I remembered some stuff about the night my parents were tortured,” Neville said. 

“Oh Nev,” Ginny said sadly. 

“I think it's going to be me against Bellatrix Lestrange eventually,” Neville admitted, his throat dry, “She wanted me that night. I reckon she wants the complete set.” 

Ginny reached over to grab Neville's hand. 

“I dunno how I'm meant to stand up to that. My parents couldn't and everyone says they were brilliant,” Neville choked up, tears springing to his eyes, “I don't want to die or go mad. Especially now when it seems like I have so much to live for. More than I've ever had.” 

Ginny had tears streaming down her cheeks as well. “You're brilliant, Nev,’’ she said, “Always have been.” 

“You too,” he said. 

Ginny had been possessed by Lord Voldemort himself at only eleven years old and forced to carry out terrible acts. Yet she remained funny and fierce, burning and bright like a sky full of fireworks.  

“It's easier when we have things worth fighting for,” she said. 

Neville sniffed and Ginny offered him a handkerchief. He wiped away his tears and handed it back. “I know we had this important conversation to have, but I also wanted you to be the first person I told that Theo's my boyfriend now,” he said. 

“Oh!’’ Ginny said, smiling through her tears, “That's fantastic!” 

“Yeah,’’ Neville said, “Still think I'm dreaming sometimes. But it's so good. You were completely right about the snogging thing, by the way.” 

“Course I was,” Ginny said smugly. 

“Luna knows too, but I told you first.” 

“Well yeah she knows, she's Luna. She's got pixies and whatnots whispering in her ear. I want details though. Spill!” 

Neville spilled, telling Ginny how Theo had taken care of him through several breakdowns. 

“Y'know, he didn't have time to brew that extra strength calming draught before he found you. He must have been carrying it around in case you ever needed it,” Ginny pointed out. 

Neville's heart sped up at the thought of how Theo anticipated him. It was as if Theo knew exactly what Neville needed before Neville even thought of it. 

“He called me ‘honey’,” Neville continued, “I think that's when I finally realized that he felt the same way I did.” 

“Well yeah, you had to kiss him after that,” Ginny said. 

“Right, and mind you, I was really gross at that point, but I was like fuck it? And it was like wow, he still couldn't keep his hands off of me. It was incredible,” Neville said with a sly smile. 

“I'm so pleased for you,” Ginny said. 

“I guess I can thank the Lestranges for one thing, yeah?” Neville said. 

Ginny shook her head. “Nah, just thank yourself for being the daring boy I know you are.” 

Neville puffed up his chest. “I am a bit brave, aren't I?” 

“Heaps of bravery,” Ginny said. 

“Theo calls me a terminal Gryffindor.” 

“Sounds like he's benefiting,” Ginny said, nudging him. 

“I know I am,” Neville said dreamily.

“You can finally put that book I gave you for Christmas to use!” Ginny said. 

Neville blushed, “Merlin Gin, that was embarrassing. Gran was right there when I opened it, you absolute menace.”

Ginny cackled wildly. 

“Where did you even get such a thing?” 

Ginny leaned in, a sneaky smile on her face. “Nicked it from Fred.” 

“Ginny!” 

“He deserved it,” Ginny said, shrugging, “and I think it might have been my most brilliant prank against him. It was hysterical, watching him stomp around the house in the right strop because someone had taken his precious gay sex book, but he didn't want to actually tell anyone what he was missing.” 

Neville and Ginny talked and laughed together until just before curfew. They nearly sprinted up the stairs to Gryffindor tower, tripping over each other's feet and falling into fits of giggles. Neville felt a bit silly for ever thinking that he could lose Ginny. 

The future loomed over them, dark and unknowable. But for the time being, Neville had Ginny digging her fingers into his ribs, Luna's cascades of butterflies, and of course the sweet spark of starting something new with Theo. 

Things to fight for. 

Chapter Text

Neville was concentrating deeply, it seemed, his eyes pouring over a book while idly flicking his wand in his hand and worrying at his lip. He didn't lift his head when Theodore entered the Room of Requirement, too absorbed in whatever task he had set for himself. Theodore let a fond smile fill his face as he came to a stop, deciding his quest for a kiss hello could wait a while longer. 

All the debris from Neville's explosive confrontation had vanished and a pristine set of practice dummies had replaced the ones that had been destroyed. Or perhaps, the dummies had repaired themselves? Theodore had noticed that the dummy he had slashed with a cutting charm had been completely unmarred the next time he had seen it. 

The magic of the room was unlike any Theodore had ever seen and he craved to understand it. Where did the items come from? What caused the room to provide items that weren't asked for? Was the room sentient? Some people thought the entirety of Hogwarts Castle was sentient. It was certainly old enough to be. 

Nott Manor certainly did not have sentience. It was a cold dead thing. But his mum had spoken fondly of the house she grew up in where vases of fresh-picked flowers just appeared on the table and the perfect set of robes always found their way to the front of the wardrobe. Theodore dreamed of living in a house like that, where the stairs chimed musically under his feet and he would always feel warm. 

Neville lifted his eyes from his book and straightened his shoulders, still not noticing Theodore watching him. He pointed his wand at one of the dummies, glanced back down at the book, and then with a resolute nod of the head conjured a small canary that went careening towards the dummy. As Theodore was wondering why Neville seemed to be working so hard on a spell that  he already could perform, the bird hit the dummy and exploded, reducing its target to rubble. 

Neville grinned, looking very pleased with himself, then turned his head and finally met Theodore's eyes. His smile only grew then and he scrambled off of his stool to move towards Theodore. Theodore moved to meet him and they crashed into one another, eager mouths meeting. 

There was the spark of Neville's magic still on his tongue, but alongside it was the faint taste of chamomile and honey. He smelled as he usually did: like herbs and lemongrass. Since the holidays, he had been putting something in his hair that smelled of apples. It was fresh and green, the overall effect was ambrosial. 

So tantalizing that Theodore had locked Neville in the potions stores the day before just to experience a moment of it.

Daphne had lambasted Theodore for it, of course, calling him a besotted fool. But even through her lecture he couldn't help but smile and he could tell Daphne was secretly amused as well. Mainly, Theodore was disappointed that it was a trick he could only get away with once. 

“Hi,” Neville said, breathless. 

“Hey, honey,” Theodore said. 

Theodore wasn't sure where the endearment had come from, it had just slipped off his tongue the first time he said it, too concerned about Neville to fully control what came out of his mouth. But Theodore found it fit Neville perfectly and he reacted so gorgeously whenever Theodore called him it, swooning almost. 

“What are you working on?” Theodore asked. 

“Spell chains,” Neville said merrily. He took Theodore's hand and led him towards his workspace, secret swot mode engaged. 

“I dueled Luna yesterday and her style was incredibly eccentric, like her. Lots of strange little spells layered in amongst the offensive and defensive. So, I got to thinking about spell chains, making these kinds of superfluous spells secretly offensive. Take them by surprise,’’ Neville said excitedly, gesturing with his free hand, “I've gotten pretty good at birds and reducto so I put them together. But I want to try something subtler, I think. Like a canary in a coal mine type of thing?” 

“Canary in a coal mine?”

“Something Hermione mentioned once. We use coal for potions but muggles use coal for everything. They can't spell it up like we do so they wear strange little hats and dig for it way underground. And they use carts like at Gringotts to move it around. Terrible for the environment, apparently. But I suppose the digging can cause poisonous gas to leak out so the muggles would take a canary down with them and if it stopped singing they would know to get out of the mine before they got poisoned too.” 

“Sounds like a horrific vocation,” Theodore mused. 

“Awful,” Neville agreed, still grinning, “but it got me thinking. It would be cool if I could make something happen when the bird flew over the target instead of touching it. Or something time delayed.” 

“We could work on it together?” Theodore offered. 

“Yeah, sure!” Neville said, “Is it okay though? I know it's not actual coursework. I don't want to put you behind.” 

“Doing something like that for the OWL examiners would be really impressive, I think. It's the kind of higher-level thinking they're looking for. Worth the time.” 

Neville flushed, averting his gaze. 

“Everything okay?” Theodore asked. 

“Yeah,” Neville said, “I'm still not used to anyone thinking my ideas are worth their time.” 

“Every bit of you is worth my time,” Theodore said, squeezing Neville's hand, “You're brilliant.” 

“Mmm, flattery,” Neville said. 

“Devastatingly handsome as well,” Theodore continued. 

“Keep that up and we'll be pausing for a study break before the studying's begun,” Neville said. 

“Oh, I was counting on it,” Theodore teased. 

Neville looked at him, eyes hot and hungry. 

Theodore very nearly shoved Neville onto the couch, managing to throw out a hand at the last second to slow the landing. Neville didn't seem to mind being manhandled, if anything it turned his kisses even more enthusiastic. 

While they kissed, Theodore's fingers pulled at the front of Neville's robes, just to expose a bit more of the creamy skin underneath. Theodore trailed kisses from Neville's jaw and down his neck, finally reaching the small bit of sternum he had uncovered. There was a tiny bruise marring the skin there, already faded to yellow. Theodore had been so caught up with the overwhelming sensation of finally having Neville, that he couldn't even recall making the mark. 

“I liked it,’’ Neville said, his words strung together and sounding shy, “I liked that you left a mark.” 

Theodore looked up at Neville, who was looking down at him with blown-out pupils, chest heaving under Theodore's hands. 

Theodore could still only scarcely believe that he could have this. 

Theodore turned his attention back to the little bruise and the skin surrounding it. Hesitantly, he lowered his mouth to Neville's sternum, first kissing the skin there tenderly. Neville hummed sweetly, carding his fingers through Theodore's hair. Theodore smiled against Neville's skin. He gave the space an experimental nibble before dropping pretenses completely and sucking at the skin hard. He heard Neville gasp at the contact, a gorgeous angelic sound. Theodore removed his mouth with a small pop and was rewarded with the sight of a red mark, much larger than the first bruise. 

“Was that alright?” Theodore asked. Warm desire was rushing through him, but he was still wary of hurting Neville. 

“Merlin, yes,” Neville said. His voice sounded completely wrecked. “Come back up here, Theo, please.” 

Theodore obliged, moving up to crash their mouths back together. 

“I take it back,” Neville said a little later. He was leaning back on the couch, looking like the personification of bliss. “I don't have to pass my OWLs. It's not like anyone expected me to anyway.” 

Theodore ignored that bit of self-deprecation for the moment, choosing to twirl a strand of Neville's buttery soft golden hair around his finger instead. “I meant what I said in my letter. We can just fuck off to Australia. Right now.” 

“Right now?” 

“Well, maybe in a few days. We'd have to get the portkeys in order. But Tracey's dad is head of the portkey office so I bet we could get expedited.”

“Oh ho ho, you've got friends in high places, Mr. Nott,” Neville teased. 

“You as well,” Theodore said, “Tracey's your friend now too.” 

Neville furrowed his brow. “I've never spoken to Davis in my life.” 

“Yet she put Pansy in the hospital wing in defense of your honor,” Theodore said. 

Neville burst out laughing. “Truly? I'll have to send her flowers,” Theodore opened his mouth but Neville cut him off, “Normal flowers. Don't you dare say a word about the carnivorous amaryllises.”

Theodore raised his hands. “I wasn't saying anything.” 

Neville narrowed his eyes, as if he was searching for deceit while Theodore kept up his innocent expression. Finally, Neville gave Theodore an easy smile and leaned into him. “Everyone has been blaming Hermione for the curse. It's been driving her a bit mental.” 

“People have been blaming Granger?” 

“I mean, she's more than capable of doing something like that,” Neville said with a shrug. 

“Magically, absolutely. But the morality and rule-breaking of it all couldn't be appealing.”

Neville snorted. “Sometimes I think Hermione is just dancing on the edge of being a Dark Lady. Bit scary, she is.” His tone was fond though, and Theodore found himself reevaluating his impression of Hermione Granger. 

“I've heard Australia has a lot of dangerous creatures. Even the non-magical ones,” Neville said. 

“I'll protect you from the wee beasties,” Theodore said, kissing Neville's temple. 

“My prince,” Neville said, smiling and pushing his head into the kiss. “I bet the plants there are fascinating as well. Oh, and there's the coral reef as well.” 

“Opera House, too.” 

Neville quirked a brow. “You want to go to the muggle opera?” 

“Could be interesting,” Theodore said, “but also there's a secret wizarding opera house under the muggle one.” 

“That sorts it,” Neville said, “Expedite the portkey.”

“Theoretically, this one could work,” Theodore said, pointing at a page in the book of curses he had found on the bookshelf, “Completely incapacitates the target for the time length determined by the caster and only the caster can perform the counter curse.” 

Neville rested his head on Theodore's shoulder to look over the spell. “Merlin, that's complex,” he said, “I don't know if I could cast it. Let alone modify it.” 

Even though the couple had stopped their snogging session in favour of brainstorming a spell chain, they still sat pressed together on the couch. It was quite distracting, actually. Theodore found himself skipping over passages or reading the same set of words over and over when Neville casually trailed his fingers over Theodore's body as he read his own selection. 

“A canary, a time delay, this absolute beast of a spell… and it would be nice if it could incapacitate multiple targets after the time delay without having to cast the spell on all of them,” Neville drummed his fingers against Theodore's forearm as he parsed out his thoughts. 

“Intent-based target selection,” Theodore said. 

Neville hummed thoughtfully, “Or automatic targeting based on selected parameters.” He sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I'm starting to feel like I'm not quite Slytherin enough for an idea this ambitious,” Neville said glumly. 

“Nonsense,” Theodore chided. He started scribbling on the piece of parchment they had been passing back and forth. Neville tilted his head, watching as Theodore attempted to chart out an advanced Arithmancy equation from scratch.  

“I knew I should have taken that class,” Neville commented. 

“Why didn't you?” 

“Just kind of chose the ones people said would be easiest,” Neville said quietly. 

“If you self-studied this summer, you could probably take the OWL later at the ministry.” 

Neville made a vague sound of assent. He had started wringing his hands together, a sign that he was feeling self-conscious. Theodore stuck his own hand between Neville's, weaving his fingers through and giving Neville's a squeeze. 

Theodore couldn't pretend that Neville's interest in this was purely academic. 

When Neville was destroying the practice dummies, his magic was alive, filling the room with the thrum of its beating heart. Neville had looked like a vengeful god then, jaw set and eyes blazing. The sight had taken Theodore's breath. It made him want to fall to his knees and bask in the sight of him. 

Neville was the kindest person Theodore had ever met. He radiated compassion. But he was carving himself into a soldier nonetheless. Neville had spoken of his rage and spite, but Theodore knew that Neville would have never chosen this path if it wasn't necessary. 

So, Theodore would help him. He would do the things that Neville couldn't bring himself to do. And afterward, once the dust had settled, they could exist peacefully together. 

“I'm proud of you, y'know?” Theodore said.

“Really?” 

“Mhm, you decided you wanted to improve this year and you have.”

“Well, you've helped,” Neville said hesitantly. 

“You're the one who decided to seek me out,” Theodore countered. 

Neville smiled radiantly. “Quite glad I did.” 

“Me too,” Theodore said, “Otherwise I may have never gotten the chance to do this.” Grinning, he swiped everything off of his lap onto the floor so he could grab Neville's face and pull him in for a searing kiss. 

“I think I'm going to go help Professor Sprout in the greenhouses,” Neville told Granger as they left the potions classroom. 

Neville rarely spoke very loudly. If his voice rose above a certain octave, he would freeze like a startled prey animal. In fear of himself. 

Therefore, Theodore knew those words weren't meant for Granger, they were meant for Theodore who was leaving the classroom just a few steps behind them. 

Neville was still skittish around large groups of people since the Azkaban breakout. People weren't approaching him as often and he tended to have a group of Gryffindors (and Lovegood) surrounding him most of the time, but Theodore knew that The Great Hall had become a source of anxiety for Neville. At mealtimes, Theodore would watch him from across the hall, chest tightening as Neville's eyes darted towards the exit. Theodore had to dig his feet into the floor to keep himself from running to him in those moments. 

Theodore smiled to himself as he nearly skipped to the Kitchens. He would bring Neville a picnic and hopefully this time they would do a bit more than hold hands under the table. 

Theodore was swarmed by helpful house elves as soon as he entered the Kitchens. Gingy, the house elf who had assisted him the last time he had visited, was more than eager to provide Theodore with more of the tartines that Neville had enjoyed so much before. 

Theodore realized with a miserable lurch that he didn't know what kind of deserts Neville favoured. He had a strong suspicion that his boyfriend had a bit of a sweet tooth. He had mentioned cake. 

“Mister Neville likes all of the sweets Mister Theo, sir,” Gingy said helpfully, “Last time he was being here, he was enjoying the honey shortbread biscuits.” 

“Do you have some sort of honey cake?” Theodore asked, “If it's not too much trouble?”

“No troubles, Mister Theo. Gingy is happy to help Mister Theo with everything he is needing for his date,” Gingy said brightly. 

“A date, huh?” came a voice from behind. 

Theodore whirled around, heart pounding, to come face to face with Granger who was studying him with unguarded curiosity. Like Theodore was a specimen of some sort. 

“I had my suspicions, of course,” Granger said blandly, “After I saw you running after him on Tuesday.” 

Theodore had practically chased Neville out of The Great Hall the morning that the Daily Prophet reported on the mass breakout. He had passed Granger, Potter, and Weasley in the Entrance Hall. All of them had moved after Neville had burst out of the door. 

“No, no!” Theodore had nearly shouted at them. He knew they weren't what Neville needed then. He wasn't even certain that Neville needed him. 

“What's going on?” Granger had asked, frantic. 

“Just read the Prophet,” Theodore had gasped out, before running out to the grounds. 

Thinking back, Theodore wasn't very subtle at that moment. 

“May I help you, Granger?” Theodore asked. Her presence was unnerving to him and he wasn't entirely sure as to why. 

“Bit scary, she is,” Neville's voice echoed in Theodore's head. 

Granger scoffed. “I didn't follow you, if that's what you're thinking.” Theodore realized then that Granger was carrying what appeared to be a bundle of blankets. “I'm here to visit Winky.” She looked at Gingy when she asked, “Is she here, by chance?” 

Gingy looked hesitant, frowned even, before bowing her head at Granger. “Gingy will be going to find her for you, Miss,” she said before scampering off. 

“I didn't know about the house elves here until last year. They aren't mentioned in Hogwarts: A History, you know?” Granger said, “I, well, came on a bit strongly when I first learned. I don't think the elves really trust me, these days. Except for Dobby. Do you know Dobby?” 

Theodore shook his head. 

“He's a free elf that works here. Winky as well. She used to belong to the Crouch family.” 

The mention of the Crouch family made Theodore's blood boil. He steadied himself on the counter in front of him as he caught his breath. 

“Are you okay?” Granger asked. 

“Yeah,” Theodore said, smoothing down his features, “I just have an aversion to the Crouch family.” 

“Oh? Did Crouch Senior make things difficult for your family, then?” 

Theodore laughed, without any mirth behind it. “No,” he said, “He couldn't find anything on my father. I'm sure it was infuriating for him. My anger is reserved for his son.” 

“Ah,” Granger said, “I suppose that makes sense.”  

They were silent for a few moments, just looking at each other. 

“Does your family own house elves?” Granger asked bluntly. 

“Yes,” Theodore said tersely, “and before you say anything, my father most certainly won't be persuaded to free them.” 

“I didn't think so,” Granger said, “I'm still as committed to the liberation of house elves as ever, of course, but I'm trying to be more realistic about it.” 

Theodore nodded. “Do you know much about the history of house elves? My mum told me stories when I was younger.” 

“I haven't been able to find much information about it in the library,” Granger said, “It's like they're trying to hide it from us.” 

“House elves have always bonded with magical families and their homes. They do so both because they're naturally helpful creatures, but also because the bond strengthens their magic. But it used to be a reciprocal bond. House elves were cherished members of the family and it was a great honour to be chosen by one. Wizards, of course, had to find a way to subjugate them anyway.” 

Granger looked close to tears. “Your mum sounds pretty… progressive. To have, you know…” 

“Married a Death Eater?” Theodore asked dryly. 

“Well, yeah.” 

“Not by choice,” Theodore explained, “I don't know the full story, but her family got in some sort of trouble. Financial, I believe. My mother's dowry kept the family from ruin.” 

“That's awful,” Granger breathed. 

Theodore wasn't sure why he was telling Granger any of this. It hurt. It made him remember the days when he would run into his mother's bedchamber as a child and find her lying as still as a corpse and she would spend the entire day frozen and unspeaking. Theodore would curl up beside her and read to her. He would try out funny voices, hoping that he could make her laugh. 

Theodore blinked. At some point, without his notice, tears had welled up in his eyes. He felt vulnerable, but at the same time he wanted to keep talking, even if only to fill the silence that filled the air around them. 

“Gingy is being very sorry, Miss Hermione, but Winky is poorly and is not wanting visitors,” Gingy said, having appeared out of seemingly nowhere. 

“That's okay,” Granger said kindly, “Will you pass this on to her? Just blankets, I promise.” 

Gingy eyed the blankets suspiciously, but accepted the bundle. “Gingy will be giving this to Winky. Mister Theo, Gingy is sorry for the waiting. Cake is almost being ready.” 

“I don't mind waiting. Thank you, Gingy,” Theodore said. 

Gingy bowed her head and scampered off once more. 

“Mum loved the house elves,” Theodore told Granger, “She refused to give them orders. It was, er, a point of contention.” 

Theodore blinked again, his throat tightening at a sudden memory of his father, wrathful and looming, raising his hand and striking his mother in the face. Theodore, shaking and terrified, had tried to put his tiny body between his parents, but his mother's magic had wrapped around him and moved him away. 

Groffy, Rimple, and Koko had all perished on the same day as Theodore's mother. Tizzle and Loppy had been spared, but told to always stay out of sight unless called for. 

Theodore remembered Tizzle appearing for only a moment on Christmas Day to give Theodore a piece of cake. It was the only thing he had to eat that day. Tizzle most likely had to punish herself afterwards. 

Theodore was crying properly, now, silent streaks of tears falling down his face. Granger noticed, surely, but didn't acknowledge it. 

“I'm glad you and Neville have each other,” was all she said. 

Theodore sat out on the grounds for a while before going to Neville. The conversation he had with Granger had unmoored him. 

His mother dying, the house elves dying: these were all accepted facts in Theodore's mind. He had not forgotten them. But somehow, over time, the emotions connected to the events had been locked away. They were flooding him now. 

Theodore groaned into his hands. All he had wanted out of the evening was to have a nice time with Neville, but he was already ruining it. 

‘Neville deserves better,’ said a cruel inner-voice. 

‘I like it when you open up. I want to know everything about you,’ the memory of Neville replied. 

Sighing, Theodore stood, grabbed the picnic basket, and made his way towards the greenhouse. 

Professor Sprout looked positively giddy when Theodore walked into Greenhouse One. She glanced from Theodore to the basket, smiling widely. “He's in Three, dear. In desperate need of a break, might I add.” 

Theodore wondered if Neville had mentioned he was coming or if Professor Sprout had come to her own conclusion. 

Neville was wrestling with some great thorny tree, brandishing a pair of shears. Theodore placed the basket on a table as he entered the greenhouse, but didn't dare approach Neville when he was in such a precarious position. 

Neville jumped back, one of the branches slapping against his cheek. Theodore teetered forward, instincts screaming at him to get Neville away from the damn homicidal plant, but knowing deep down that Neville was in control, completely in his element. 

Neville took out his wand and waved it intricately. He chanted rhythmically, golden light emerging from his hand to wrap around the tree, spreading from the trunk and up through the branches. Neville's eyes were closed in concentration, face illuminated by the light. 

Neville had looked like a vengeful god amongst the rubble in the Room of Requirement, but he looked like a different sort of God now. One that nurtured life rather than destroyed it. 

Theodore wanted to place his own tender bleeding heart in Neville's hands and witness how he would care for it. 

Neville lowered his wand and the light faded. He cautiously approached the tree, this time meeting no resistance when he placed his hand on the trunk. He smiled radiantly. 

“Good girl,” he told the tree, stroking the trunk lovingly “Everything is okay now.” 

Theodore went to Neville then, wrapping his arms around him from behind, basking in the warmth of his body. Neville leaned against Theodore, angling his head back to catch Theodore's lips in a kiss. 

“I was worried you didn't hear me,” Neville said. 

“I had preparations to make,” Theodore said, holding Neville tighter against him. 

“Oh?” 

“Are you able to part from your tree friend?” Theodore asked. 

“Yeah, Mel B is all better for now.” 

“Mel B?”

“Yeah, one of the Hufflepuffs named her. Because she's spicy and scary, apparently. I admit I don't get the reference at all,” Neville said. 

Theodore didn't get the reference either. 

“Come on then,” Theodore said brightly, grabbing hold of Neville’s hand and leading him over to the picnic basket. He began unpacking the basket with magic, the food and utensils spreading out over the table. He hadn't realized that Gingy had packed candles. She must have really wanted to go all in on the romantic atmosphere. Neville was watching with rapt attention, wearing a smile that lit up his whole face. 

Neville always looked so surprised when Theodore did something kind for him. It was a bit frustrating, as Theodore knew that it came from a lifetime of people generally treating Neville with unkindness. But Theodore also had to admit that Neville's soft looks of wonder were lovely to behold. He always wanted Neville to look at him like that. 

“This is incredible, Theo,” Neville said, eyes shining, “thank you.” 

Theodore flicked his wand to light the candles at the center of the table. “You're welcome,” he said, drinking in Neville's flushed face glowing in the candlelight. 

Neville talked about the hostile tree, Mel B, while they ate. He was delighted by every little detail of the meal, especially marveling at the honey cake. Theodore's mind kept drifting back to talking to Granger in the kitchens and the memories that conversation had dug up. 

It wasn't Theodore's fault. He was a child. But the logic of that didn't stop Theodore from feeling small and unworthy. 

“Are you okay?” Neville asked. He reached forward to grasp the tips of Theodore's fingers. His expression dimmed with concern. Theodore felt like he had snuffed Neville's happiness out like a candle.

He wanted Neville to smile again. He wanted to pretend everything was fine. He wanted to weep in Neville's arms. Kiss him until his brain turned off. Run away before he could ruin Neville completely. 

Theodore's fingers were trembling against Neville's palm. 

“Theo?”

Theodore squeezed his eyes shut and breathed in sharply through his nose. “I'm fine,” he said. 

“I'd really rather if you didn't lie to me,” Neville said softly. He didn't look or sound angry, though. “We don't have to talk about it.” 

Theodore was awash with red hot shame. Shame and longing all jumbled together. 

“I just want you near,” Theodore said. 

Neville let go of Theodore's hand and hopped off of his stool. For a moment, Theodore was afraid he was leaving, but Neville just went over to Theodore's side of the table and sat next to him. Their thighs were pressing together. Neville put his arm around Theodore's waist and Theodore tucked his head into Neville's neck nearly instinctively. 

“This okay?” Neville asked. 

Theodore mumbled a “yes” into Neville's collarbone, nuzzling into the warm skin. He felt Neville's lips kiss the top of his head, his mouth staying pressed there. 

As Theodore reveled in the warmth and safety of Neville's presence, he idly thought that one day he might actually feel like he deserved this. 

“Talk to me,” Theodore said eventually, “Tell me more about your plants.” 

Neville laughed softly. “Okay,” he said, “Well over the summer, Gran got me a Mimbulus Mimbletonia. It has a fascinating defense mechanism, if a bit inconvenient. You see, I took it on the train with me…” 

The night Blaise had ended things with Theodore, he had said, hunched over and as vulnerable as Theodore had ever seen him, “I'm sorry, Theo, but I can't love you properly.” Theodore was beginning to believe that Neville could love him properly. Theodore wanted to do the same, but what if he was too broken? What would happen if one day Theodore looked in the mirror and only saw the face of his father staring back? 

Theodore considered himself cautious. He didn't make leaps of faith. But for Neville, he leapt and leapt again. He would find a way to be worthy of him. 

Chapter Text

Neville was going to flunk his OWLs. He couldn't keep his mind (or his hands) off of Theo and he was doomed. Absolutely doomed. 

“Er, mate? What happened to you?” Ron asked, gaping at Neville from the floor of their dorm room where he was sitting with Harry playing chess. 

Neville tried and failed not to blush at his dorm mates' rapt attention. He had been hoping that he could go straight to the showers without being noticed. 

Of course, there was a shower in the Room of Requirement now… but Neville refused to think about that too hard. 

“Just spilled some ink on myself,” Neville said sheepishly. 

The fib should be believable enough. After all, Neville was known for his clumsiness. Theo had knocked the entire bottle over when he pounced on Neville like a predatory cat. If one looked close enough, they could see the inked whorls of Theo's fingertips pressed into Neville's skin. His face, neck, arms, and the top of his chest, hidden by his robes, all greedily claimed. Neville was satisfied knowing that Theo looked similar to himself at the moment. Neville had even dipped a finger in the ink and drawn on Theo's forearm: ivy, flowers, and even little snakes. 

“Do you need help getting it off?” Ron asked, “I think Hermione knows a spell.”

Merlin, no. Neville already had enough of Hermione's knowing glances. 

“I can get it myself, thanks!” Neville squeaked out, “Bye!” 

He scampered into the bathroom to scrub himself clean, but not before pausing to admire his disheveled appearance in the mirror. The voices that normally came out to mock him when he looked at himself were muted. Instead, his mind supplied: Desirable. 

Neville was still worried, naturally. 

He thought a lot about Theo's experience. He wondered how far he had gone with Zabini but was too afraid to ask outright. Theo certainly kissed like someone who knew what he was doing, but had he done more? 

Neville and Theo had been snogging passionately almost every day since they started dating, but Theo had not pushed for more than that. Theo often took control but remained cautious of Neville's comfort level, lightly brushing his fingers against the parts of Neville's body he wanted to grasp, waiting for Neville to kiss him deeper to give permission. 

Neville finally put in the effort to learn how to spell his curtains closed so he could obsessively look over the book Ginny had given him for Christmas. The contents were as lovely as they were terrifying. Neville knew he wasn't ready for all of it, emotionally at least. But he got caught up thinking about it, imagining him and Theo moving like the drawings in the book. He even practiced some of the charms in the book, just so he wouldn't fumble them whenever the time came. 

But sometimes when he imagined him and Theo, his traitorous mind supplied Theo and Zabini instead. There were things in the book that Neville thought couples probably only did together after they had been together for years or at least were a lot older than he and Theo were. But what if Theo had already done everything in the book? What if Neville was moving too slowly? What if Neville could never measure up to Sex God Zabini with his perfectly coiffed hair and chiseled jaw? Zabini, who stalked around the castle like he owned it. 

Zabini was now sharing a cauldron with Malfoy in potions class. He lounged like a bored cat while Malfoy did the majority of their work. Neville tried his best not to stare at Zabini as he worked on his potion. He just couldn't help envying Zabini’s easy confidence and relaxed demeanor. 

Zabini leaned over and whispered something in Malfoy’s ear and they both laughed. Snape didn't move to reprimand either of them. Neville could only imagine the wrath that would be brought down upon him if he dared laugh during class. 

Neville wasn't paying attention as he added beetle eyes to the potion. He was too wrapped up in sneaking glances at Zabini and lamenting his feelings of inadequacy. Theo had chosen Neville, surely that counted for something? Zabini turned and locked eyes with Neville just as an extra beetle eye slipped from between his fingers and landed into the brew. 

The effect was instantaneous. Neville surprised himself by how fast he drew his wand and cast a stasis charm. A thick pink tendril of liquid was frozen in the air, nearly touching Hermione, who clamored back, eyes wide and terrified. Snape swooped down upon the pair before Neville could even start to discern how to fix his error. 

Neville could barely make out the words Snape was shouting at him over the roaring of his heartbeat in his ears. He assumed Snape was spouting more of the usual, calling Neville stupid, lazy, and useless. At this point, Snape’s behavior was so familiar, that Neville had no idea why it scared him so much. He had taken his anxiety potion before class started, but it wasn't holding back the rise of terror. Neville and Theo had drilled the remedies for common potion errors extensively. The information sat in the back of Neville's mind, unable to be accessed. 

Snape said something low and harsh sounding. Neville just nodded dumbly. Snape’s expression twisted into a snarl. “I said leave my classroom, Mr. Longbottom!” Snape roared, his words finally breaking through. 

“Yes, sorry,” Neville said, scrambling to gather his belongings and escape. As he left the room, he glanced over at Theo, who was halfway out of his seat, eyes soft with concern. Daphne’s hand was on Theo’s forearm, gently pulling him back down. Neville didn't risk mouthing anything at Theo, though he very badly wanted to. 

Once outside of the classroom, Neville only took a few staggering steps before falling back against the stone wall and sinking, putting his face into his hands. 

“Shit,” he breathed into his palms. He pressed his back against the wall. It was cold and uncomfortable but grounding. Neville’s legs still felt like jelly, though, and he wasn't too keen to be found still sitting on the floor when the rest of the class let out. A little potion wouldn't hurt. 

Neville reached into the pockets of his robes and withdrew the vial of his anxiety potion. Since Theo had first brewed it for Neville it had been altered close to a dozen times. 

A labour of love, Neville thought foolishly. It was too soon for all of that, surely. But still, his heart beat wildly at the suggestion. Theo had put so many hours into perfecting this potion just for Neville. Why the fuck had he been worrying so much about Zabini, anyway? 

Neville smiled, remembering Theo’s triumphant smile when Neville reported no adverse side effects from the latest iteration of the potion. Neville's breathing steadied. He didn't think he needed a dose after all. He moved to put the vial back into his robes, only for it to be snatched from his grip by spindly ochre-tinted fingers. 

Snape stood over him, examining the potion against the light of one of the wall sconces. “What is this?” he asked. 

Neville scrambled to pull himself upright, not wanting to be sprawled out on the dungeon floor in front of Snape, the very picture of vulnerability. Snape was still much taller and scarier than Neville, but Neville could allow himself a bit more dignity in this interaction. 

“Well?” Snape sneered. Neville very badly wanted to tell him to fuck off. He was a bloody potions master, for Circe’s sake. He could probably identify the potion in seconds. Snape probably already knew exactly what he was holding. 

“It’s an anxiety relief potion,” Neville said. 

“So, you’re drugging yourself?” Snape asked, raising a thin eyebrow. 

“No!” Neville said, his voice coming out louder and more strangled than he wanted. He took a breath before speaking again. “It's very mild, sir.” 

“Who brewed this for you?” Snape asked. “I know it's nothing I've brewed for the hospital wing stores, nor does the vial bear the distinct markers of a potion from St. Mungos or from a member of the Guild of Potioneers. Obviously, a student brewed this and we both know you lack the aptitude for this level of potion creation. So, again, who brewed this for you? Miss Granger, perhaps?” 

Neville wanted to point out that his skills had increased considerably since the beginning of the year. However, he had just nearly blown up a cauldron. Also, Neville did lack the aptitude for brewing the potion Snape had snatched from him. Neville was improving at potions, but Theo was a genius. 

“I didn't know it was against the rules to take potions brewed by another student, sir,” Neville said, fighting to keep his tone level. 

“You are taking a potion that alters your brain chemistry, a mastery-level potion brewed by a child,” Snape spat out, “You have always been a bumbling fool, but this is the height of idiocy. Now, you will tell me who brewed this for you!” 

“No,” Neville said forcefully, surprising himself by how quickly the word tumbled out. Snape stared at him, looking murderous. “Sir,” Neville added, a weak attempt at softening the blow. 

“Turn out your pockets,” Snape demanded. Neville easily complied. There wasn't anything else in his pockets besides a smooth stone that Luna had painted with a swirling design. Neville held the rock out for Snape to see and the professor huffed with annoyance. “Hand over your bag as well.”

Neville picked up his satchel from where it lay against the wall and relinquished it to Snape. He kept what he hoped was a neutral expression while his mind raced. He didn't believe anything incriminating was inside his bag at the moment, but Snape was liable to find an offense. Surprisingly, Snape was polite enough not to dump the bag’s contents on the floor to sort through. Snape wordlessly levitated Neville's textbooks and sorted them into a floating pile. Next came a bundle of notes and essays in varying stages of completion. Neville knew some of the notes were collaborations between himself and Theo, but didn't think they would cause him any trouble without proper context. 

Snape glanced over the pages of parchment without showing much interest. He paused a bit longer on one set of notes. Neville craned his head to glance at what was on the parchment and realised it was the notes he and Theo had made about the spell chain they were working on. Eventually, Neville released the breath he had been holding as the parchment floated over to join the rest of his belongings. 

More rocks floated out of Neville's bag along with some assorted quilts and a few chocolate frogs. There was a triumphant gleam in Snape’s eyes as the final item left Neville’s bag, but Neville nearly started laughing at the sight. It was another vial of potion that was nearly translucent orange. Neville forgot he had left it in his bag. 

“It's a cure for boils, sir,” Neville said before Snape opened his mouth to ask. 

Snape examined the bottle. “It appears adequate,” he reluctantly admitted, “Why do you have this?” 

Neville exhibited a great deal of self-control by not making a sarcastic comment about curing his boils. “It was the first potion assignment we ever did in your class. I, erm, botched it quite spectacularly,” Neville said, training his gaze towards the floor. “I've been working this year, trying to improve. I was happy to get that one right. It's, er, sentimental, I guess.” 

More so, Theo’s smile and gentle praise felt like an old wound finally beginning to heal. Theo never gave false praise. He told Neville when he fucked something up and taught him how to fix it. And when Neville got a potion right, Theo’s warmth made his heart sing. But Neville would never tell Snape all that. 

Neville thought Snape would confiscate the boil cure as well, but he allowed it to join the rest of Neville’s things. Then, with a lazy flick of his wand, all the items packed themselves back into Neville’s satchel, much more neatly than they had been before. Neville swallowed as he accepted the bag when Snape held it out to him. Snape’s expression was inscrutable. 

“I will be taking thirty points from Gryffindor for your insubordination. You will have detention here with me tomorrow night at 7 p.m. You will stop taking unauthorized potions. If I catch you with an unauthorized potion again, the consequences will be much more dire for you. Madam Pomfrey is more than able to assist you with your condition.”  

Neville nodded weakly. The fight had gone out of him. “Yes, sir,” he said. 

“You may go,” Snape said and it was almost civil. 

Neville scattered off before Snape could say anything else. 

Theo was already in the Room when Neville entered that evening. Neville knew that he needed to tell Theo what happened with Snape and try to figure out what to do now. He was buzzing with anxiety and indignation. He knew Theo would most likely be furious as well. 

Theo was sitting on the couch, an array of books spread out around him. Theo perked up when Neville walked in, meeting his eyes with a soft smile. Theo always looked so happy to see Neville. Once again, Neville felt foolish for agonizing over Blaise Zabini. 

Neville joined Theo on the couch and pressed himself into his boyfriend’s warmth. Theo had a quill tucked behind his ear and a small splotch of ink at the corner of his mouth. Neville had caught Theo nibbling at his quills before whilst deep in thought. It was adorable, Neville thought. Theo was always quick to flush in embarrassment and move the quill away from his lips in those moments. Neville wanted to tell him that he could watch Theo that way forever and never tire of it. He didn't think he would ever tire of anything Theo did. 

Neville impulsively kissed right when the splotch of ink was. Theo turned his head and kissed Neville properly, teasing his lips open with his tongue. Neville melted into him, sighing. Theo traced Neville’s jaw with the pad of his thumb. Neville raked his hands from the nape of Theo's neck into his soft hair. Nothing mattered but this. 

When they broke apart, Theo’s cheeks were quite pink. “You're a brilliant distraction as always,” he said. 

“I can't resist you when you look so scholarly,” Neville said, grinning. 

Theo’s eyes were gorgeous and gold in the light of the fire and he looked very badly like he wanted to snog Neville again. “This runic array is due tomorrow,” he said apologetically. 

“Better get on with it then,” Neville said, “It's okay. Merlin knows I have plenty to do as well.” 

Neville pulled out his charms essay and for a while the pair worked in companionable silence. Theo was rolling up his finished runic array when Neville remembered that he hadn't mentioned what happened with Snape. Neville put down his nearly finished essay and turned to Theo. “Something happened today,” he said, “With Snape.” 

Theo’s expression darkened. “What did he do?” His voice had an edge of danger to it. 

Neville sighed and the story tumbled out. Theo reached over and took Neville’s hand as he talked and held it almost too tightly. 

“I know I'm not going to get anything that works as well from the Hospital Wing,” Neville said, “I just know that Snape is going to keep searching through my things now. I guess I could keep it in my dorm room.” 

“All the way on the seventh floor,” Theo said. 

“I dunno if I have another choice.” 

Theo squeezed Neville's hand, his expression settling into something sharp and determined. “I’ll take care of it,” he said. 

Neville gave him a questioning look. 

“I'll take care of it,” Theo repeated, pressing a kiss to Neville’s jaw. 

“How?” 

“I'll talk to Snape,” Theo said. 

Neville felt like he had been splashed with a bucket of icy water. “But,” he stammered, “You'll get in trouble. You've never been in trouble.”

Theo smiled crookedly. “He won't want to get me in actual trouble,” he said. 

Neville rolled his eyes. “Slytherin,” he groused playfully. 

“You love it,” Theo said smugly. 

Gods above, Neville did. 

“I still hate this idea,” Neville said. 

“Noted,” Theo said, “but I'm doing it anyway.”

Neville couldn't help but smile. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” Theo said. He cupped Neville’s face, tracing the triangular array of moles under Neville's eye with his thumb. Neville’s stomach flipped. 

“You took your usual dose before class today, right?” Theo asked. 

“Yeah.” 

“Did it not work as well? You seemed, well, pretty panicked.” 

“It's stupid,” Neville said, once again cross with himself. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I was fixating on something silly. My mind got away from me.” 

“Still something to consider when I brew the potion again,” Theo said thoughtfully, “What were you thinking about? Can I help?” Theo’s fingers were still idly tracing Neville’s face. 

Embarrassed, Neville moved his eyes towards the ceiling. “I was thinking about Zabini.” 

Theo laughed. “Whatever for?” 

Neville sighed, forcing himself to look at Theo again. “I know you two and something last year and well, I've never been with anyone before. I was worried I might be inadequate compared to him.” 

Theo leaned forward and kissed Neville very tenderly. 

“Blaise broke things off with me last year when he found out he was expected to get engaged over the summer,” Theo said after, “He put his family obligations over what we had.” 

Maybe it was ridiculous, but Neville thought at this point he would place Theo above any sort of obligation. 

“It hurt quite badly at the time,” Theo continued, “but now I know Blaise and I would have never worked out in the long term. Our priorities are too different. The resurrection of the Dark Lord has brought a lot of things to light. Blaise is too detached. He sees it all as a game and he can walk away from it at any time.” 

“We can't walk away,” Neville said softly. 

Theo nodded. “I know I cared a lot for Blaise once. But it all feels so shallow and empty compared to what I feel for you now. It could never measure up.” 

Theo leaned closer, a gleam in his eyes that Neville’s breath stutter. “This,” Theo said, caressing the side of Neville’s face, “is all that matters now. You.” 

Neville’s lips parted. He was in danger of burning from the inside, just from Theo's words and soft touch. Neville knew resolutely that Theo had the power to completely ruin him, but he would never back away now. He couldn't. His fragile trust was in Theo’s steady hands now. 

“It’s you,” Theo said, pulling Neville closer. 

“It’s you,” Theo repeated, between kisses to Neville’s lips, cheeks, and neck. “Only you.” 

Chapter Text

It was established that the Gryffindor brand of reckless bravery was terminal. However, Theodore had not anticipated it being contagious as well. 

Otherwise, he wouldn't be standing in front of Snape’s office door, fist poised to knock. 

Despite being Theodore’s head of house and teacher for nearly five years, Theodore had very few interactions with the man. In fact, he did his best to avoid him. Theodore’s father had called Snape a man with unclear loyalties and said he wasn't to be trusted. Though Theodore generally didn't take advice from his father, he found this warning worth heeding. 

But there was absolutely nothing wrong with the potion Theodore had made for Neville! Snape knew it. He was just getting his jollies by bullying Neville and Theodore was sick of it. 

Neville had botched his very first assignment in Potions class as a terrified eleven-year-old and Snape had never allowed him to live it down. Even worse, Snape had actively stymied Neville's growth. Snape was a horrible teacher, a despicable person, and might even be loyal to the Dark Lord. 

And Theodore was willingly walking into his den. He gave the door three polite but insistent raps. 

“Enter,” came a cool voice as the door swung open on its own. 

Theodore gathered his courage and stepped inside. He held his body taut, lifted his chin, and allowed his cloak to billow ever so slightly behind him as he approached Snape’s desk. He was calm and detached; a model Slytherin. 

“Mr. Nott,” Snape said tonelessly, “How may I help you?” 

Theodore had already practiced this conversation in his head dozens of times, but now he was in front of Snape, his thoughts were a blur. 

“Yesterday, you confiscated a potion from Neville Longbottom,” Theodore began, and Snape actually seemed interested, raising an eyebrow ever so slightly. “I brewed it and I am here to take responsibility.” 

Snape tilted his head. “You are seeking a punishment, then?” 

“No, I believe that if you examine the potion, you will find it perfectly safe for consumption. I wish for it to be returned.” 

Snape waved his wand over a drawer in his desk and withdrew the vial. “I am curious why you believe that you are best suited to provide medical potions for Mr. Longbottom when I regularly provide similar potions to the hospital wing.” 

“As you said, you provide similar potions. This one is completely unique. You're a busy man. I'm sure you would rather not spend months perfecting a recipe for just one person.” 

Snape spun the vial between his slender fingers. “And you have the time to do the same? Need I remind you this is your OWL year?” 

“He’s worth it,” Theodore said through clenched teeth. 

For only a moment, Snape's mask of indifference seemed to slip and his mouth parted in surprise. “I suppose you are not operating an underground potions ring then, Mr. Nott? Are you providing this service to other students?” 

“No.” 

Snape turned his eyes back to the vial. “I examined this potion at length when I first acquired it. I would place it at a near-mastery level.” 

Theodore puffed out his chest a bit. He was already aware his work was excellent, but confirmation from a seasoned Potion’s Master didn't hurt. Even if said Potion’s Master was a complete arsehole. 

“You said you’ve spent months perfecting this potion? I can assume that you have extensive notes you could bring me if I requested them?” Snape continued.

“Of course,” Theodore said. 

“Have you given much thought to your career after Hogwarts?” 

“When I was younger I wanted to be an Unspeakable,” Theodore said, “but there are many options I want to explore.” 

Theodore still loved the idea of exploring esoteric magic, pushing the boundaries of what was possible. But when he was younger, he always imagined living a solitary existence. Now, he dared to picture someone next to him in the years to come. Theodore didn't like the idea of coming home from work and not being able to discuss any part of his day with Neville. 

“Have you considered acquiring a Potions mastery?” 

“It has crossed my mind, sir.” 

Snape made a thoughtful noise. “I have a colleague in Spain who specializes in potions for chronic medical conditions. He is looking to take on an apprentice this summer. If you bring me the notes on this potion along with more samples, I would be willing to recommend you.” 

Theodore froze, his words caught in his throat. This definitely wasn't how he expected this conversation to go. 

“Why? Why me?” he eventually asked. 

Theodore excelled at the subject, but he had never gained much of Snape’s attention. He hadn't wanted it, preferring to stay beneath his notice. If Snape offered this opportunity to anyone, he thought it would be someone like Malfoy, who he practically fawned over. 

“When I was younger, I was a lot like you. I showed much promise. I met a man who saw my potential and offered to nurture my natural talent. It would only cost my soul,” Snape looked directly into Theodore’s eyes as he spoke. Theodore fought the deep urge to turn his eyes away. 

Snape was referring to The Dark Lord. Theodore knew Snape was a Death Eater, but never expected him to allude to it. 

“I wish to offer you a different path,” Snape said, “Away from those who wish to use you. Away from this approaching war.” 

“I think I’m involved in this war whether I like it or not.” 

“You are a child,” Snape said forcefully. 

“I agree,” Theodore said, “It's not fair. But if I’m going to get dragged into this anyway, I might as well get to choose where my loyalties lie.” 

Snape nodded. “You should be aware that I do not discuss the social lives of my students with their guardians. Even if I believe some entanglements to be reckless and foolish.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

Snape offered the vial to Theodore. “You may return this to Mr. Longbottom and inform him that he is approved to continue taking it. However, he is still expected to serve detention this evening for his insubordination.” 

“I’ll let him know, sir,” Theodore said, a small smile tugging at his lips. 

“And you will bring me your notes and further samples by the end of the day on Friday if you wish for my recommendation.” 

“I will, sir,” Theodore said, “Thank you.” 

Theodore walked into the greenhouse, giddiness bubbling in his gut. Neville was at a table, tending to some mugwort. When Neville looked up at Theodore’s entrance, Theodore took the vial from his pocket and held it up in triumph. 

Neville leaped up, his stool clattering to the ground as he rushed toward Theodore to fly into his arms. “You actually got it,” Neville said, laughing into Theodore's shoulder. 

“You doubted me?” Theodore asked, smirking when Neville lifted his head again. 

Neville took the vial, beaming. “Snape hates me, Theo. I just couldn't imagine him doing anything for my benefit. Are you in trouble, then?” 

“I’m not,” Theodore said, “In fact, he’s offered to recommend me for an apprenticeship in Spain this summer.” 

Neville’s mouth dropped open. “Theo, that's incredible!” He laughed incredulously. “I swear this is such a Slytherin turn of events.” 

“I'll have you know that I demonstrated daring, nerve, and even chivalry on this occasion,” Theodore said. He wrapped his arms around Neville’s waist to pull him closer. 

“Yes yes,” Neville said, grinning sunily, “You contain multitudes.” 

“You have potting soil on your neck,” Theodore said. 

“Well, I am in the greenhouse, so…” 

“I just mean, I had a dream about this once.” 

“Oh,” Neville raised an eyebrow, “What sort of dream, then?” 

“I'll demonstrate,” Theodore said before pushing Neville against the table. 

Theodore was happily wrapped up in Neville, their bodies pressed together tightly. Neville’s hands were wandering, squeezing Theodore’s waist and trailing down his back. Theodore’s mouth was attached to Neville’s neck while his hands grabbed at the collar of Neville’s robes to expose more skin. 

“Oh, come and stir my cauldron

And if you do it right

I'll boil you up some hot, strong love

To keep you warm tonight!” 

Neville and Theodore scrambled apart as the loud and out-of-tune singing approached them. When Professor Sprout walked in, still singing at the top of her lungs, Neville was seated with his mugwort again and Theodore was intensely examining a trowel. 

“Oh hello boys!” Professor Sprout greeted, lips twitching as she glanced between the pair. “You both seem very hard at work here. I'm so sorry for disturbing you two. I just needed to grab some pots.” 

“It's no problem, Professor,” Neville said squeakily. 

Professor Sprout swished her wand at the corner of the greenhouse and a group of pots levitated towards her. “I’ll go ahead and get out of your hair now,” she said, “I'll be back in half an hour to make sure you two go to dinner.” She gave them both a sharp look, but her lips were upturned in mirth. 

“Thanks Professor,” Theodore said with a wave. 

Sprout left the greenhouse, humming the Celestina Warbeck tune. When she was far enough away, Theodore finally looked at Neville and they both burst into peals of laughter. 

“Gods, she totally knows,” Neville said. 

“Snape knows something, too.” 

“Bugger,” Neville groused. 

“By the way, he wanted me to let you know that you still have detention tonight.” 

Neville shrugged. “Figured. D’you think he'll lecture me about besmirching your virtue?” 

Theodore groaned, putting his face in his hands. 

“We’re rather bad at hiding this, aren’t we?” Neville commented. 

Theodore knew that he should care more about being discreet, but he could only be so strong when Neville was so irresistible. And now, the possibility of a whole summer out of his father's reach only made him feel bolder. He stood behind Neville, draping himself over him. 

“You should tell Daphne about the apprenticeship,” Neville said. 

“Daphne?” 

Theodore felt Neville tense up against him. “Yeah,” Neville said, “When I saw her at Saint Mungo's, she talked about how she wanted to find an apprenticeship for you this summer.” 

“She hasn't mentioned anything about that to me,” Theodore said. 

“She didn't want me to mention it to you either,” Neville said quietly, “but I felt strange not saying anything. She worries about you a lot, y’know?” 

Theodore felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He knew that his secrecy about his life outside of school affected Daphne in some way. He just thought she was better off not knowing. The truth would hurt her. Her pity would hurt Theodore. 

“I want to know everything about you,” Neville continued, threading his fingers through Theodore’s hands, “I’ll wait until you're ready. If you're ready. But maybe you should consider telling Daphne first. It's up to you obviously, but I can tell you really cares for you and has for a long time.”  

Theodore thought of Daphne’s worried glances, spread out over the years. Remembered all the times she would almost speak, but stop herself. When had she ever given Theodore a reason not to trust her? 

“You're right,” Theodore said. He nuzzled closer to Neville, chasing his warmth. “My brilliant boy.” 

Neville laughed softly. “Feel free to continue calling me brilliant.” 

“And mine?” 

Neville's breath hitched. “That too.” 

“You’re mine,” Theodore said, “and I'm all yours.” 

Theodore was glad to catch Daphne alone in the common room. She was attached to Tracey more often than not and Theodore was sure he’d completely lose his nerve if he had to drag Daphne away from her girlfriend for this conversation. 

Neville was right. It was really past time for Theodore to knock down the walls he had clumsily built to keep Daphne at a distance. Neville’s emotional support was brilliant and affirming, but Theodore couldn't lay all his problems at his feet. Daphne had been there all along, trying to hide her fear and waiting for Theodore to open up. 

“Do you have time to talk?” Theodore asked. 

Daphne looked up from her book and patted the seat next to her. “I always have time for you.” 

Theodore sat down next to her, letting out a sigh. He wanted to have this conversation. He was committed to it now. The fear was still there. 

“Are you alright?” Daphne’s brows furrowed in concern. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Did something happen with Neville?”

Theodore laughed softly. “Oh no,” he said, “he's perfect.” 

“Sop,” Daphne teased. 

“You're my best friend, y’know Daph?” 

“Well, obviously,” Daphne drawled, “Is that what you wanted to talk about?” 

Theodore shook his head. He withdrew his wand to cast some privacy charms. Daphne sat up straighter then, expression growing serious. 

“What's going on?” she asked hesitantly. 

“Nothing new,” Theodore said, “I just want to be a better friend. I’ve been pushing you away the whole time we’ve known each other and it's not fair.” 

“You're a wonderful friend, Theo,” Daphne said, “I don't want to pressure you into talking about things you don't want to.” 

“You're not pressuring me, I promise," Theodore said. He steadied himself. "But if it's okay with you, I’d like to tell you about my father.”

Chapter Text

Neville had braced himself for enduring a steady stream of acerbic commentary during his detention with Snape, but the man was strangely silent. He had still presented Neville with a truly grotesque batch of cauldrons to clean. They were crusty, slimy, and emitted a truly offensive odor. The bastard had probably been saving them for the occasion. 

Neville dutifully chiseled a stubborn layer of moss-coloured crust from a pewter cauldron while Snape sat at the front of the classroom, long nose crammed in the most recent issue of The Practical Potioneer. Neville realised with a strange jolt that he had looked through the same issue only a few days previously. It was Theo’s copy. Neville read academic journals about Potions now. Oh, how things had changed. 

Neville almost asked Snape what he thought about the article on herbal tinctures, but thought better of it. 

Occasionally, Neville would catch Snape’s eyes peeking up over the journal, watching him intently. Neville wanted to defiantly stare back, perhaps puff himself up a bit. Instead, he just averted his eyes and returned to his task. Do not poke the bat. 

Neville wasn't sure how long he had been in detention, but he was awfully sore by the time Snape finally spoke to dismiss him. 

“Thank you, sir,” Neville said, acknowledging Snape with a tight nod.

He stood to leave. His hand was on the doorknob when Snape spoke again. 

“One more thing, Mr. Longbottom.” 

Neville turned around, keeping his expression carefully bland. Here we go, he thought, bracing himself for the insults. 

“Twenty points from Gryffindor for locking your classmates out of the Potion’s stores,” Snape said. His lip curled slightly, almost as if he was about to laugh. 

That bastard. Theo was the one who had locked the door! Neville’s cheeks heated and he nearly tripped over his feet to get out of the room. 

Theo told Neville he planned on talking to Daphne that evening. Neville wondered if the conversation was still ongoing. More importantly, he hoped Theo was okay. 

Neville considered making a loop through the dungeons just in case Theo was around somewhere and in need of comfort. Theo was safe, though. He was with Daphne. Besides, Snape was probably foaming at the mouth to give Neville another detention and would most likely swoop down upon him for loitering if Neville lurked around too long. 

Neville’s muscles ached. His eyes felt heavy with exhaustion and he was in desperate need of a shower. He had grand plans of immediately heading up to the dormitory when he got back to Gryffindor Tower, but he lingered when he entered the common room. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were huddled around the fireplace, all furiously scribbling on rolls of parchment. Neville still had to write an essay on navigational charms and he liked the idea of company. 

“Alright if I join?” Neville asked after approaching them. 

“Of course!” Hermione said, beaming up at him. 

Neville took a seat and started getting out his parchment and textbook. From the looks of the table, it seemed like the group was working on the same essay Neville was planning on tackling. 

“I feel like we never see you anymore, mate,” Ron commented, “Where have you been?” 

“Cleaning cauldrons with Snape tonight,” Neville said idly. 

Harry winced at him in sympathy. Ron frowned and looked like he wanted to interrogate Neville further, but was interrupted by Hermione. 

“Oh, this is fascinating,” she started.

Hermione read out loud from a book on magical compasses while everyone else feigned interest. It had been so chilly in the dungeons that Neville’s teeth had chattered at points. But now he was in front of the fireplace and it was so toasty and comfortable that Neville thought he might just nod off in his armchair. He started unwrapping his scarf. 

“It says here that some directional charms can be faulty because they’re based on the caster’s own sense of direction. Seems rather pointless don't you-” Hermione’s voice cut off suddenly. Neville looked up to see why Hermione had stopped speaking to find she was staring at him.  

“Er, alright Hermione?” Neville asked. Harry and Ron were gaping at him as well. Neville wished he had just gone and had a shower. 

“Er, Neville, didn't you say you were just cleaning cauldrons with Professor Snape?” Hermione asked in a gentle tone. 

“Yeah?” 

“Well, it looks like perhaps you got some sort of residue on your skin and it's made some marks. Er, on your neck,” Hermione said. 

Neville touched his neck. What was she talking about? He had worn his scarf throughout his detention. He hadn’t taken it off since he left the Greenhouse…

Oh. Bugger. 

Neville knew that his face had to be a marvelous shade of crimson. “Oh, oops, well you know how I am,” he said, voice high. 

“Why don't you just let me, er, heal that up for you?” Hermione asked diplomatically. 

“Sure, yeah,” Neville said with a jerky nod. 

“D’you think you ought to go to the Hospital Wing? If there's potions ingredients involved?” Harry asked. His head was tilted, face screwed up as he studied Neville’s marred neck way too closely. 

“I think Hermione can handle it,” Neville said a little too quickly. “Can't you, Hermione?” 

“Oh yes,” Hermione said, “It will only take a moment.” 

It really only took Hermione a moment to heal the love bites on Neville’s neck. Neville missed them immediately, even though they had embarrassed the fuck out of him. 

He would be getting Theo back for this. Somehow. 

“Thanks ever so,” Neville said to Hermione when she had finished. 

The air was awkward now. Neville rubbed his sweaty palms against his thighs. “Well, I suppose I should go and wash the rest of the dungeon grime off,” Neville said.

He quickly packed his belongings and raced to the showers. 

Neville was freshly washed, changed into his pajamas, and completely knackered. He floated out of the washroom, lured by the siren’s call of his comfortable bed. Surely, this long day was done. 

Apparently, Neville couldn't be allowed to rest just yet. Ron was standing in the middle of the room, scowling at him. Harry was nearby, looking uncharacteristically meek.

“Longbottom,” Ron sneered. 

Neville let out a disbelieving laugh. What the fuck? Was this Malfoy under polyjuice? 

Without warning, Ron lunged forward and pressed his hands against Neville’s chest shoving him back. 

“Oi!” Harry shouted, “That's not on!” 

“What's going on with you and my sister?” Ron snarled. 

“What are you talking about?” Neville squealed. 

“We all know what really happened to your neck,” Ron said. 

“And your first thought was your sister? Ron, she's dating Michael Corner!” Neville said. 

“Spends an awful lot of time with you though,” Ron mused, “and you went to the Yule Ball together.” 

“As friends!” Neville protested, slinging his arms up in exasperation. “And if she knew that you were up here right now attacking me over her virtue, she would be hexing you into next year, mate.” 

Ron had the decency to look uncomfortable. 

“Nothing is going on with me and Ginny. Believe me, it would absolutely never happen,” Neville continued, “and you really ought to stay out of her business. For your health.” 

Ron seemed to calm down then, slouching as the tension in his back snapped. He was still staring at Neville, though, as he was pondering a difficult chess move. “You said it would never happen?” he asked. 

“Definitely not,” Neville said. 

“Why not, though? What's wrong with her?” Ron’s got a bit high and his ears went red. 

Neville sighed heavily, too tired to feign politeness. “I’m confused,” he said, “Do you want me to snog your sister or not?” 

Ron let out a strangled cry. “No!” he said, but after a moment his expression turned thoughtful. “Though I suppose you would be a decent choice for her. Nice respectful bloke. As long as you aren't mauling her.” 

“Once again, you really are asking for a bat bogey hex,” Neville replied. He heard Harry laugh at that. 

“You’ve really never thought about her like that?” Ron asked. 

“I'm gay,” Neville blurted out, “so no.” 

Neville had told Terry that his sexual orientation wasn't a secret, but that wasn't entirely true. Neville still hadn’t come out to any of his dorm mates, though he told himself he wouldn't deny it if asked. It was just that nobody had ever taken an interest in his love life. Well, now Ron had. 

The timing probably could have been better. 

“Oh!” Ron said, going bright crimson. He muttered something about needing the loo and practically flung himself out of the room. 

Neville huffed out an incredulous laugh and headed towards his four-poster. He didn't even bother kicking off his slippers and just flopped down on his back. He sighed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Wonderful, fabulous, excellent job,” he said to himself. 

He laid there for a while, making himself breathe a box formation like Theo’s book had taught him. 

“Erm, Nev?” came a quiet voice. 

Neville sat up, startled. 

“Sorry,” Harry said sheepishly, “I just wanted to ask you something. If that's okay?”

Neville had completely forgotten Harry was even in the room. Unfortunately, he had a pretty good idea of what Harry wanted to ask. 

“I have never peeked at you or anyone whilst changing,” Neville said dryly, “That would be really weird.” 

Harry let out a high embarrassed laugh, blushing furiously. “That wasn't my question! I would never think… Jesus.” Harry rubbed the back of his neck. “Can I sit with you?” he asked, glancing away, “I feel like I’m looming over you.” 

“Oh yeah,” Neville said, feeling a bit like an arsehole. He scooted over and patted the spot on the bed next to him. 

Harry sat down. He didn't say anything for quite some time. He only looked down at his hands, wringing them together. 

“How did you know?” Harry finally asked, “That you liked boys, I mean?” 

“Er,” Neville said. 

Neville remembered first year when Harry held out Neville’s remembrall, smiling. Neville had felt embarrassed like he did with most social interactions, but there was also an undercurrent of a different type of self-consciousness. He wanted to be close as possible to Harry whilst also wanting to run as far away as possible. He didn't know what it meant at first, but it didn't take him long to work it out. 

It probably wasn't the best anecdote to share, however. He decided to just alter it slightly and hope Harry didn't ask which boy he was referring to. 

“There was this boy I felt all mixed up about. He was exciting and scary all at once. Impossible to look away from. I didn’t understand it until I saw some older students holding hands and kissing in the corridors,” Neville said. 

“Was he the one who..?” Harry gestured towards his neck. 

Neville laughed. “No,” he said, “My first crush was ages ago. I have a boyfriend, though. We’re just trying to keep it quiet for now.” 

Harry frowned. “Why are you keeping it quiet, though? Is he trying to keep you a secret? Or, I dunno, acting like it's something shameful?” 

“No, no, nothing like that,” Neville said quickly, smiling at Harry’s flustered face and righteous indignation. “Stuff with his family. It’s complicated.” 

“Oh, alright.” 

“Honestly though, we’re doing a really poor job of hiding it. I've only told Ginny. He's told two people, I think? But people just keep finding out. Luna knows because she knows everything, though I would have told her anyway. Hermione found out. Professor Sprout found out…” 

“Sprout?!” Harry exclaimed. 

“She walked in on us snogging in the greenhouse today,” Neville said, “but she was weirdly supportive. Acted like she didn't see anything and basically gave us a time frame to carry on with it.” 

Harry laughed. “Well, you’re her favourite,” he teased. 

“I'm a bit good at plants,” Neville said, grinning. 

“Is that all? It's not too bad of a list. Manageable.” 

“And Professor Snape,” Neville said very quietly. 

“What?” Harry shouted, bouncing on the bed. “How the fuck?” His eyes widened and he flashed Neville a gleeful smile. “Oh shit, the potions stores with Nott!” 

Neville sighed and mimed drawing a checkmark in the air. This list was far from manageable but Harry had never given Neville any reason not to trust him. 

“I just can't believe…” Harry was still laughing, “Snape! Neville, you have bollocks of absolute brass. Truly, Weasley twin levels of nerve.” 

“I was just kind of there, really,” Neville protested. 

Harry eventually stopped cackling but the smile didn't leave his face. He bumped Neville’s shoulder. “Nott, then? Fit enough, I suppose. A bit intimidating.” 

“Only at first,” Neville said. Then, it registered that Harry had referred to another boy as attractive. 

Neville must have given Harry a very strange look, because he laughed again. “Don’t worry. I don't fancy him or anything,” Harry said, waving a hand. 

“But you think you might fancy boys?” 

“Er, I think so. Boys and girls, probably. I'm kind of with Cho now? I think?” 

“You think?” 

“Well, she kissed me right before Christmas but nothing has happened since,” Harry said with a shrug, “And I'm kind of realising I may have fancied Cedric. Bit of a fucked up situation, probably.” 

“Yeah,” Neville said, choosing not to lie, “But relatively low on a list of fucked up situations you've encountered.” 

“Touche,” Harry said, “I know I've fancied Cho since third year. Last year, I got closer to Cedric because of the tournament. I guess it's like you said earlier. I had feelings for him that I couldn't really understand at the time. Didn't want to understand, I reckon. But now he's gone. Cho’s grieving. I’m grieving. I'm a bit worried that she's only interested in me because I saw him die.” 

“I'm sure it's more than that,” Neville said gently, “but it sounds really complicated.” 

“Sorry,” Harry said, “I shouldn't be dumping all of this on you. I guess it's just nice to know someone who understands. Or at least understands the gay thing.” 

“It seems like you’ve been holding a lot in. Especially this year. I'm glad you trust me enough to talk about it,” Neville said, offering Harry a soft smile. 

“I don't think anyone says it enough, but you really are great, Nev. I appreciate you a lot,” Harry said. 

“Same to you,” Neville replied, “Have you talked to Cho about things?” 

“Er, not really,” Harry said, “Not really my forte, talking. Reckon I should though.” 

“How was the kiss?” 

“Erm,” Harry flushed slightly, “It was quite wet? She was talking about Cedric, started crying, then told me she liked me and kissed me.” 

“It seems like she's got a lot going on emotionally.” 

“That's what Hermione said,” Harry sighed, “Is it bad that just want something normal? Like not a weird love triangle with a dead person? I feel like that's insensitive to say.”

“Probably shouldn't say that to Cho,’ Neville said, “but I don't think it's wrong to want that. Your life is really so far from normal that it makes sense that you would want something stable.” 

“Maybe I should ask her on a date for Valentine's Day and see how it goes,” Harry mused. 

“I think that's a good idea.” Neville then had an uncomfortable thought. “Merlin, I've just realised something really embarrassing.” 

Harry gave him a questioning look. 

“My first kiss with Theo… I had been crying right before. It was probably wet! I was the wet one!” Neville wailed. 

Harry cackled. “Well, obviously he wanted to carry on after that. You shouldn’t be embarrassed.” 

Neville laughed too. “Yeah, I guess you're right. I shouldn't freak out over it now.” 

Harry had always felt so distant to Neville. Untouchable, really. But now he seemed more real than ever before, no longer a mythical figure. He was complicated and self-conscious, just like Neville. They had called each other friends since they first met, but this was the first time Neville completely believed it. 

Neville went to bed grateful. 

Chapter Text

Theodore feared that his friendship with Daphne would change irrecoverably after their conversation. He thought every interaction they had would be tainted by pity-filled glances; that she would soften for his perceived benefit. 

Turns out, Theodore was wrong. The only changes were that Daphne was a bit more snuggly and that she was more likely to bring up murdering Theodore’s father in everyday conversation. 

“He's old as hell. Nobody would question dragonpox,” Daphne drawled. 

She was lounging on the common room couch, head leaning against Tracey’s shoulder with her feet propped in Theodore’s lap. Theodore had his charm’s textbook perched on Daphne’s feet and kept having to snatch it away when Daphne wiggled her toes or kicked whilst plotting homicide. 

Tracey didn't know what Daphne and Theodore had discussed, only that shortly after Daphne had announced “We're killing Theo’s father, by the way,” to which Tracey had just nodded, said “Alright, then,” and pulled out a book that may or may have not been bound in human skin. 

Daphne’s most recent suggestion was to inject Yorrick Nott with a live dragon pox virus. Apparently her second cousin Roland was a healer and could easily get a hold of a sample “minimum questions asked”. 

“I know what he did at the solstice party and I’ve kept my mouth shut. He owes me,” Daphne explained brightly. 

“Enough to be an accomplice to murder?” Theodore questioned. 

“I’ll just say it involved both Celeste and Evander Avery, some Cornish pixies, and five goats,” Daphne said, smirking. 

Theodore did his best not to imagine whatever scene Daphne had stumbled upon. “We’re not killing my father,” he said evenly. 

“Why not?” Daphne whined. She kicked her foot, making Theodore’s book lurch into the air and clatter on to the floor. “It would be fun. I've been so bored lately.” 

Theodore rolled his eyes and summoned his book back. “You could try revising. Snog your girlfriend, perhaps.” 

“Second option sounds good,” Tracey said, lowering her book. 

“Speaking of revising, I’m off to brush up on my practical herbology knowledge,” Theodore said, pushing Daphne’s feet off of his lap. 

“Now that's a euphemism if I've ever heard one,” Tracey said. 

“I'm serious about my marks,” Theodore said as he stood. 

“Are you sure I shouldn’t write to Roland?” Daphne asked. 

“Not until I'm of age,” Theodore replied. 

Truthfully, Theodore loved the idea of his father being out his life for good either by death or imprisonment. But even after everything his father had put him through, Theodore felt sick at the idea of hurting him. Good thing that Daphne was joking. Most likely. 

Yeah, she was definitely joking.

Theodore and Neville had agreed that way too many people knew about their so-called secret relationship. They agreed that they needed to be more careful and discreet. 

But they were hormonal, rapidly falling in love, and quite weak.

It started off innocently enough. They repotted some mandrakes together, a task that didn't leave much room for flirtation due to the earmuffs. But Merlin, Neville looked so cute in his fluffy blue earmuffs that it made Theodore’s heart clench. Then when the task was completed, Neville flashed Theodore a beatific smile and suddenly Theodore was incapable of keeping his hands to himself. 

Events had escalated to outright foolishness when Neville sunk to his knees under the work table. 

They needed to stop. They had the Room of Requirement if they wanted to do this. Unfortunately, Theodore couldn't form coherent thoughts with his heart pounding so violently in his chest. 

And there was Neville, sweet Neville, on his knees looking up at Theodore with adoration mixed with something wicked in his wide blue eyes. 

“Are you sure?” Theodore choked out. His throat was so dry the words came out thick and raspy. 

Neville’s comfort was paramount, but also Theodore thought he might die if they stopped now. 

“I want to,” Neville said, his gaze steely and certain. It was quite flattering. Theodore was accustomed to Neville's hesitancy in most matters, but Neville never seemed to question Theodore. 

Neville’s tongue darted out of his mouth to wet his pouty pink lips and Theodore groaned, leaning forward to grip the table. He was going to pass away. 

“I’ve never done this before, of course” Neville said, “but I’ve read about it in a book. I think I can make it really good for you.” Theodore grinned because Neville sounded so fucking self-assured. 

“You read a book,” Theodore said, huffing out a laugh, “Swot.” Then, remembering Neville’s position, Theodore conjured a cushion and tossed it towards Neville. He aimed towards the ground but it landed in a thud against Neville’s chest.

Neville let out a cry of false outage. “Really Theo? I’m down here about to.. you know, and you throw things at me? Maybe I won’t do it after all.” 

Theodore laughed both at Neville’s sarcasm and his apparent inability to actually say what he was planning on doing to Theodore. Neville had undoubtedly become more confident, but he was still shy in many ways. In time, Theodore believed, Neville would be able to say filthy things without so much as a flush to his cheeks. But when that happened, Theodore would miss moments like this: so new and thrilling. 

“For your knees, honey,” Theodore said with a fond ruffle of Neville’s golden hair. Neville turned crimson as he adjusted the cushion under himself. 

After that most of the talking consisted of Theodore babbling praise and endearments towards Neville. Eventually, Theodore had to hold his hand over his mouth to keep himself quiet. Professor Sprout had mentioned that she would be busy in Greenhouse 4 until dinner, but Theodore still didn’t want to risk attracting attention.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Theodore said when it was over. He cupped Neville’s jaw tenderly, tracing Neville’s lips with his thumb. Recalling where Neville’s mouth had just been filled his entire body with heat. Neville preened at the praise, leaning into Theodore’s hand. “I mean it,” Theodore continued, soft with affection, “You are a work of art.” 

Neville laughed hoarsely. “Does my mouth inspire you wax poetic, then?” 

“Oh, I will fill libraries,” Theodore promised. 

“Charmer,” Neville said, his smile filling his entire face. 

“Must have been a good book you read,” Theodore teased, “You'll have to lend it to me. For research purposes. You know I always aim to be the best at my pursuits.” 

“Swot,” Neville said fondly. 

Neville moved to crawl out from underneath the table just as the door to the greenhouse was swung open. Neville quickly ducked back down, his hands grabbing at Theodore’s calves to steady himself. 

“I’m not homophobic!” Ron Weasley announced breathlessly. The tone of his skin nearly matched that of his hair. 

“Congratulations,” Theodore said dryly. 

Weasley took a shaky breath before glancing around the room in confusion.“ Where’s Neville? Thought he would be in here.” 

Theodore could feel Neville bury his face into Theodore’s knee, his fingers digging into his flesh. “He went to the loo,” Theodore said. 

“Oh,” Weasley said awkwardly, “I suppose I’ll wait then. I really need to talk to him.”

“He, er, might be gone for a while,” Theodore improvised, “He wasn’t feeling well. Actually, he may not come back at all. He said something about going to the library. I was just so busy with my own work I barely noticed what he was saying. Sorry.” 

“He left his satchel.” 

“Oh, I guess he’ll come back then. I can let you know you came by and you’re not homophobic,” Theodore said, offering Weasley a tight smile. 

“Alright, cheers then,” Weasley said. He began to turn back towards the door, but instead of leaving like Theodore anticipated he swiftly hopped into a frog-like crouch peering under the table. “Aha!” he exclaimed, grinning at a mortified Neville.

Weasley began to cackle, tipping back on to his heels and falling to the ground, gangly limbs splayed out. “Merlin,” he gasped, clasping at his chest, “this is the best day of my life.” 

“Just dropped my gloves,” Neville attempted weakly. 

“Yeah right, you cheeky slag,” Weasley wheezed. Theodore bristled at the insulting term, but Weasley’s tone was good natured enough and Neville just seemed embarrassed rather than affronted. It was a far cry from what the energy would have been like if someone like Pansy Parkinson had discovered them. Although, Pansy would never visit the Greenhouses outside of class hours unless perhaps she was giving under-the-table blowjobs. 

Neville shuffled out from beneath the table, flushed and grumbling. “Theo, can you perform a memory charm?” 

“No!” Weasley whined, “Don't take this moment from me. I’ll never be happy again.” 

“You wouldn’t remember it,” Theodore said. 

Weasley sat up. “I wouldn’t remember the stolen memory but I would feel bereft. Depressed. Listless. Forever feeling the hole inside of me. You don’t want that on your conscience, Nott.” 

Theodore raised an amused eyebrow. 

“It’s a real phenomenon, y’know,” Weasley said. 

Neville flashed Theodore a wry grin. “I’m willing to take the risk.” 

“Hey!” Weasley protested.

Theodore held his hands up. “I don't know how to obliviate someone. Sorry.” 

“Maybe we should learn,” Neville said. 

“Maybe we should just be, er, smarter?” 

“I know,” Neville groaned, laying his head against the table. 

“Y’know,” Weasley said, “I really thought Nott would be the bad influence here. Seems like I was wrong.” 

“Take that back,” Theodore said, “I am a terrible influence.” 

Neville lifted his head, looking at Theodore so sweetly that Theodore wanted to lift his wand and blast Weasley out of the greenhouse just so he could snog his boyfriend senseless. How could one person be so irresistible? 

“Er,” Weasley was on his feet now. Theodore had not even noticed him standing. 

“Do I have to ask you to keep this to yourself?” Neville asked. 

Weasley mimed zipping his lips. “Sealed,” he said, “As I am a good friend. And also not a homophobe.” 

“So I’ve heard,” Neville said. 

“I was just embarrassed to be so wrong,” Weasley said sheepishly. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Neville said, waving a hand. 

“Anyway, er, see you later?” Weasley said, teetering on his feet awkwardly. 

“Bye, Ron,” Neville said. 

“Goodbye, Weasley,” Theodore said. 

Weasley lifted his hand and waved before swiftly exiting the greenhouse. 

A beat of silence passed. “Will he actually keep this quiet?” Theodore asked. 

“Yeah,” Neville said, “If he tells anyone it would be Harry and Hermione. Probably wouldn’t tell Hermione, actually. He would get too flustered about the topic.”

“His sister?” 

Neville laughed. “He’ll have way too much fun knowing something she doesn’t. He might mention it in, oh, ten years or so.”

Theodore smiled, hope bubbling in his chest. Sure, Neville’s ‘ten years’ comment hadn’t exactly even implied that he and Neville would be together then, but Theodore could imagine it. 

Hope was a feeling previously held back, but now Theodore was allowing himself to experience it. He saw the war ending. He saw the Dark Lord defeated. 

But more personally, Theodore saw a cottage in the forest with warm sunlight flowing through the windows. He would wake up there each morning on soft sheets, him and Neville a tangle of limbs. They would have tea, dance in the kitchen, steal kisses in the greenhouse, sit by their pond and feed the ducks…

Neville’s hand was splayed out on the table. Theodore took it in his own and pressed the pads of their fingers together. 

It was a heady feeling, but when Theodore looked at Neville Longbottom, he saw forever.