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A lot of people said that Neville Longbottom had really changed in his last two years at Hogwarts. They were wrong. Sure, he changed physically, but that’s what happens as you get through puberty, and it’s so common that it’s not even worth commenting on. Neville didn’t change in any fundamental sense. He had always been, and he would remain, a level-headed, hard-working, principled wizard. He was quieter than most of his friends, and he preferred to observe rather than to be the center of attention, but he wasn’t afraid to speak up when a situation called for it. Like now.
“Knock it off, Ron,” he said to the man next to him, not loudly, but quite distinctly.
“Why?” Ron Weasley retorted. “She’s my sister.”
“My bad luck,” muttered the young woman on Ron’s other side. Her face was flushed, and her eyes were bright with unshed tears.
“She’s also an adult, and you don’t have the right to badger her for information about her personal life.”
“Excuse me, but I think I do …” Ron argued, raising his voice.
“Think you do what?” Harry asked, returning to the table with fresh drinks.
Ginny looked away and shook her head, swiping at her eyes with a tissue.
Harry put the drinks down, frowning, looking from Ginny to Ron.
“Fine!” Ron snapped sarcastically. He turned to Neville, his face red. “But if it’s not my business, it’s not yours either.”
“I never thought it was,” Neville responded evenly.
Ron bit back whatever he might have been thinking about saying and stomped out of the Leaky. Harry put his hand gently on Ginny’s shoulder. “You okay?”
She nodded and vanished her used tissue. “Ron thinks I’m six years old.”
“Yeah …” Harry sighed. “You know I love your family, babe, but there are times when I’m not sorry to be an only child.”
“And times that I wish I were,” Ginny said.
Charlie Weasley had come into the pub just as his brother was leaving, and he sat down at the table, giving Ginny a cautious glance that told him immediately she’d been crying. “What’s pissed Ron off?” he asked.
“None of your business either,” his sister snapped.
Charlie threw up his hands in surrender. “Absolutely not my business unless you need me to beat the shit out of him.”
Ginny tried to fight a reluctant smile. “I’m considering it.”
“That was going to be Ron’s pint,” Harry put in, gesturing at the glasses in the middle of the table. “Help yourself.”
“Don’t mind if I do.”
“Thank you for getting my mineral water,” Luna said with a smile.
“You’re welcome.”
Luna took a sip of the cool water. “I find that mineral water is more helpful than alcohol at strengthening the ringblats.”
“No doubt,” Charlie agreed.
“Ringblats?” Ginny asked, just as Harry kicked her under the table, too late.
“Mm.” Luna sipped some more water. “Ringblats help with clarity of thought. For example, it’s very clear to me that Ronald is angry because Hermione broke up with him, and he’s taking it out on everybody else.”
“No disagreement there,” Harry said. “Where is Hermione, by the way? I thought she was coming with you.”
“She was delayed with a patient, but she should be here soon,” Ginny replied.
Hermione Granger had finished her training at Saint Mungo’s and was known to be one of the hospital’s most conscientious Healers. That left her with less time to socialize with her friends, but she usually made it to the Leaky on Friday nights when they gathered for drinks.
Harry glanced uneasily at Ginny. Their relationship had weathered the adolescent storms that came right after the war ended, and Harry was definitely ready to take the next step. He had thought Ginny was too, but lately she’d seemed irritable and hard to talk to. His eye caught hers and she gave him a reluctant smile, looking more like herself than she had in a while.
“I might as well tell you,” she said, “or at least tell you what it’s about.”
Harry had missed the beginning of the conversation. “What what’s about?”
“Ron,” she said with loathing.
“Ron is being a right prat,” Harry muttered.
“With you too?” Neville asked.
“With everybody.” He nodded across the table. “Like Luna said …”
“He’s still taking it hard then?” Neville asked. “Hermione breaking up with him, I mean.”
There was an uncomfortable silence. Harry shifted in his chair and took a drink of his butterbeer. “Yes, I suppose. I mean, it’s been more than three months, and it can’t have come as a shock to him. Honestly, looking at them as impartially as I can, because they’re still my best friends, they don’t actually have anything in common. Ron is obsessed with Quidditch and loves his job in the joke shop. Hermione is obsessed with books and studying and doesn’t mind working long hours in the hospital. Where do those two life paths overlap?”
Charlie Weasley spoke up. “Don’t they say opposites attract?”
Harry shrugged. “I’ve heard that, and maybe they do attract for a while, but can they live together? Ron and Hermione have fought over everything for as long as I’ve known them, and Hermione has always lost patience with him for saying he’d do something and then forgetting it. And then he gets mad at her for having her nose in a book all the time.” He spread his hands and scanned the faces around the table. “Look, I’m an Auror now, and I need evidence. I don’t see any evidence that they care for each other in the way that you should in a long-term relationship.”
Neville cleared his throat. “I heard someone say once that love isn’t a feeling; it’s a series of actions. It’s easy to say you love somebody, but not so easy to think about that person’s rights and feelings every time you make a decision. That may be a little simplistic, but I think it’s true that love has to be demonstrated. If you aren’t showing a person how much they’re loved in your daily actions, it doesn’t matter much what you say you feel.” He stopped suddenly and flushed bright red as he realized that everyone was staring at him, stunned.
“I’ve always known you were very wise, Neville,” Luna said gently.
Neville shook his head and looked down at the table, and Ginny called attention back to herself to give him a break. “I think Ron is trying to spy for Mum,” she said to Harry.
“What?”
“Well …” Ginny twisted her fingers together and looked down at her hands. She pulled her chair closer to Harry and looked around anxiously. She leaned in, but just as she was about to speak, Harry rapped the table sharply and said, “Snake alert!”
Theo Nott and Blaise Zabini had just entered the pub, and Theo was, as usual, talking nonstop. “And so I told him …” he said, “I could make a potion that would help his wife, but I was under no circumstances going to add any of the dodgy ingredients he was requesting. Frankly, if you’d seen the man, you’d understand perfectly well why he wasn’t getting the … erm … cooperation of his wife in the way that he wanted because …”
“Hi, Theo!” Harry yelled loudly.
“Damn, I wanted to hear the rest of that story,” Charlie muttered.
“Harry!” Theo called back with enthusiasm. “Sorry I didn’t see you, I was just telling Blaise and Hermione …” He looked around, frowning. “Where did Hermione go?”
Blaise threw his arm around his boyfriend’s neck and gave him a quick kiss. “Go talk to Harry. I’ll get the drinks.”
Theo gave another puzzled glance toward the door, then took a seat at Harry’s table. “Hello, Lions … oh, and Raven. How is everyone?”
“Good, thanks,” Neville responded. “Have you met Charlie Weasley?”
“I haven’t,” Theo said. “You must be the mysterious dragon-wrangling Weasley.”
Charlie laughed. “Dragon keeper, yes, mysterious, no. I’m just not around much because I work in Romania.”
“I remember hearing that.” He gave Charlie an assessing look, concluding he might well be the fittest of the whole Weasley family, possibly excepting Bill and Ginny. Of course there had never been anyone but Blaise for him, but there was nothing wrong with looking.
Blaise arrived with their drinks and echoed Theo’s earlier, “How are you all?”
“Very well, thank you,” Luna replied on behalf of everyone, “although Ron Weasley left in a fit of temper after Ginny refused to share details of her and Harry’s sex life with him.”
Harry choked on his drink and half rose from his chair, looking at Ginny. “Is that true? Was that what he was mad about?”
Ginny looked like she was close to tears. “Not quite, but I think Mum wants him to find out just how serious we are, and … well, his questions were much too personal, so of course I refused to answer.”
Harry sank back down into his seat. “Well, thank Merlin for that.”
“I’m not an idiot,” Ginny reminded him.
He kissed her gently. “I know. Relax, we can talk about it later.” He gestured toward the others. “Without an audience.”
Ginny smiled gratefully. “Yeah. Can you get me some chips?” Harry went to order their food, accompanied by Charlie, and Luna explained to Theo and Blaise that she believed that Ron’s temper had been exacerbated by the break-up with Hermione.”
“Well, but that’s old news by now,” Theo responded. “I see Hermione almost every day, and she certainly doesn’t seem distressed about it. More relieved, I’d say.”
Luna nodded. “I agree, but of course Hermione has always been more emotionally mature than Ron.”
“By far,” Theo agreed, then turned to Blaise. “Where is Hermione? I swear she was right behind us when we left the hospital.”
Blaise nodded. “You weren’t paying attention because you were telling us about Mr. Wotsisname and his potion request. Hermione was waylaid before we’d gone more than a few yards.”
“Waylaid by whom?” Theo asked with some concern.
“Whom do you think?” Blaise countered, raising an eyebrow. “Whom has been following her around like a lost puppy for weeks now?”
“Who,” Theo corrected. “That last one would be who, and I suppose you’re referring to Malfoy.”
“Draco Malfoy?” Ginny squeaked. “Draco Malfoy is following Hermione Granger around?”
Theo sighed. “The kneazle is out of the bag, children. You would have noticed for yourselves if you ever saw them together.”
“You and Blaise are usually the only Slytherins who show up here for Friday drinks,” Neville pointed out.
“Greg Goyle has been here a few times, hasn’t he?” Blaise asked.
“He has,” Harry responded, setting a plate of chips in front of his girlfriend. “And Millie Bulstrode once or twice. But not Malfoy.” He took his seat and picked up a chip.
“Mine!” Ginny warned.
Harry kissed her temple. “We’re sharing.”
Ginny rolled her eyes, but moved the plate closer to him.
“You two are cute,” Charlie commented with a grin. “Tell Ron to fuck off with his questions.”
“Already did,” Harry smiled. “Cast a quick Patronus when I went to get the chips. Pretty sure he’s got the message by now.”
Neville was frowning, his eyes on Theo. “So are you saying that Hermione and Draco are … what? Seeing one another?”
Theo considered the question for a moment. “Their status isn’t clearly-defined,” he said. “You know we all work at Saint Mungo’s now, right? Hermione’s a Healer, I’m a Potioneer, and Draco is the hospital’s on-staff Curse Breaker, so we see each other all the time. You probably also know that Draco lived with Blaise and me for the first two years after the war, so … well, we’ve always been close.”
“Hang on,” Charlie interrupted. “You know I’m only in the country occasionally, and none of the interesting gossip gets to Romania. Most of my brothers couldn’t write a decent letter if they were paid to do it, and the one who can is a prat whose letters are dead boring.”
“Which…?” Harry began, but Ginny cut him off. “Percy, obviously,” she said, rolling her eyes. She turned to her brother. “I write to you, Charlie.”
“Fine, but your letters are about Harry and Quidditch. You should fill me in on the bigger picture.”
“I guess I’ll have to talk to Theo more often, then,” Ginny conceded.
Theo grinned at her. “Anytime, Red. Anyway, I’ve known since fourth year that Draco had a thing for Hermione. He hid it, of course, and acted like he hated her, but it was real. His father would have killed him if he’d known.”
“Draco’s father was filled with darkness,” Luna said quietly, and they all remembered that she had spent weeks locked in the dungeon at Malfoy Manor. “Draco brought me food at night, when no one knew, and sometimes he just sat and talked with me. He was very, very frightened of his father, but even so, he was kind to me. Draco is only like him in appearance, not in his heart.”
“You’re right,” Theo said. “Draco and I both had fathers who were allied with Voldemort and who happily sacrificed their sons’ well-being for the Dark Lord’s favor. We only survived by good luck and the help of our friends. Even as a kid, I spent a lot of my time at the Palazzo with Blaise because I was safe there. When Lucius went to Azkaban and Draco was acquitted, I thought he’d be okay, but he wasn’t. Then Narcissa died only a few weeks later, and Draco was a total mess. We brought him back to the Palazzo, and he stayed there until … well, until he got help.” He turned to Charlie. “Did you know your brother Bill helped him get an apprenticeship in Curse Breaking?”
Charlie shook his head. “No, but I’m glad he did. I’ve heard Malfoy’s good.”
“Very good,” Theo agreed. “Anyway, there we all are at the hospital day after day, doing our jobs, and I watch Draco find any possible reason to spend even a few minutes with Granger. It would be funny if it weren’t so pathetic.”
“Why hasn’t Hermione said anything to me about this?” Ginny asked. “I’m her best friend.”
Theo shrugged. “Maybe she’s not ready to share?”
“So you’re doing it for her?” Neville queried a bit sharply.
“Maybe I’m just testing the waters for her,” Theo replied. “You all know that if they do get together, they’re going to have a hard time maintaining any privacy.”
Luna nodded in agreement. “If Draco and Hermione were to have a relationship, there would be a great many people who would take an interest in it – not just their friends, but the public, and the press. There would be articles in the Prophet making a big deal of a Gryffindor-Slytherin romance. All of that attention, even it was positive, would make it much harder for them to work out what their own feelings were. They’re both … they both went through some things during the war. I think we should protect them.”
Harry flushed in embarrassment. “So you’re saying we shouldn’t be speculating about what they’re feeling?”
“Just a few minutes ago, you and Ginny were upset about Ron prying into your personal lives. Multiply that by hundreds; that’s what Draco and Hermione would have to deal with.”
There was an uncomfortable silence around the table, and then Harry stood up and threw his arms around Luna in a warm hug. “You’re the best,” he told her.
Luna smiled beatifically. “I do hope you’ll all drink more mineral water while this is going on,” she said. “We can all use help strengthening the ringblats.”
She had barely finished the sentence when Hermione walked through the door, closely followed by Draco Malfoy.
“Over here!” Theo called, waving at them.
Blaise lifted his glass. “To the ringblats,” he murmured, and they all took a drink.
“Hi, everyone!” Hermione said, a little too enthusiastically. She took a seat next to Theo. Her cheeks were pink, and her eyes were bright. “Draco’s joining us tonight,” she added unnecessarily, gesturing awkwardly at him.
Ginny’s eyebrows went up. “Draco?” she whispered to Harry. Harry kicked her ankle again.
“Why, so he is!” Theo exclaimed in fake surprise. “Lovely to see you, Draco.”
Draco took a long breath and sat down. “You just saw me,” he pointed out, leaning forward to talk around Hermione. “I walked part of the way with you.”
“Right, right, of course,” Theo agreed. “Blaise and I are such fast walkers …”
Hermione turned to Theo and grabbed his shirt front with both her hands, startling him considerably. “Theo, darling,” she said, “would you please, for the love of Merlin, shut up?”
“Yes,” Theo agreed instantly. “Yes, I will. Shutting up now.”
“My round,” Neville announced into the uncomfortable aftermath. He headed to the bar.
“Hermione should have mineral water!” Luna called after him.
“Why?” Theo asked. He turned to Hermione, eyes wide. “Are you … erm, why are you drinking mineral water? You’re not by any chance …”
“I’m not … what?”
Theo gestured at Luna. “Lovegood told Longbottom to get you mineral water.”
Luna gave a sigh. “For the ringblats, Theodore! Merlin, did you think Hermione was pregnant?”
Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and murmured to Hermione, “What the fuck is a ringblat?”
“Not a clue,” Hermione responded.
“Luna, tell us about the ringblats,” Theo requested, and Luna launched into a long explanation.
“I hate you so much right now,” Draco muttered at his best friend.
Neville returned with a tray of drinks, and a couple more orders of chips, and Hermione gratefully accepted a glass of white wine. She gave him a whispered thanks as Luna continued her lecture on ringblats, and Neville sat down next to Charlie Weasley, who was trying to decide if Luna was a genius, a lunatic, or the world’s greatest prankster. He leaned closer to Neville. “Are you dating her?”
Neville shook his head. “No, we’re friends, but … no.”
Charlie took a sip of his drink and looked Neville over. He liked what he saw. “Are you dating anyone else?”
Neville raised his eyebrows. “No.”
Charlie waited for more information, but Neville remained silent, sipping his drink, eating chips, and listening attentively to Luna. Harry and Ginny were still squabbling over chips, and Ginny, trying to grab one, knocked over her drink and splashed red wine onto the cuff of Neville’s long-sleeved white shirt. Harry hastily siphoned up the liquid with his wand, but the wine had already soaked into the white fabric of Neville’s shirt, and the red splotches didn’t diminish at all.
“Dammit, Neville, I’m so sorry,” Ginny said, waving her wand. “Hermione, do you remember my mum’s bleach spell?”
“I don’t think I ever knew it,” Hermione admitted.
“House elves would know,” Draco murmured under his breath, and Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.
“I’ll pay to have it cleaned,” Ginny offered.
Neville waved her off. “Don’t be silly. It will probably come out with soap and water.” He took a breath and rolled up his sleeves to hide the stain.
There were gasps around the table. Neville’s left forearm was nearly covered by an elaborate tattoo showing Nagini being decapitated by the Sword of Gryffindor.
Charlie couldn’t take his eyes off it. “That is spectacular,” he said.
Neville smiled and rotated his wrist just a little. The sword appeared to move as it slashed through the snake.
“Is it charmed to do that?” Theo asked. “Is it a … I don’t know how to say it, like an animated tattoo?”
“No, it’s not. The sword doesn’t actually move. The sword is tattooed over a muscle that moves when I turn my wrist.”
“”That’s impressive,” Charlie said, his eyes still on Neville’s arm.
“Where’d you have it done?” Theo asked.
“Brighton. Dean Thomas has a studio there.”
“Dean did that?” Harry asked in amazement.
Neville nodded. “Remember how he was always getting in trouble at school for doodling pictures in the margins of his essays? He’s put that doodling to good use.”
“He’s very talented,” Charlie said.
“Yeah, I like the way it turned out,” Neville agreed. “He asked me a lot of questions and showed me a lot of sketches before he did the ink.”
“Do that thing with your wrist again,” Charlie requested. Neville gave him a sidelong glance, but did as he asked, and Charlie leaned in a bit to watch. “You should keep your sleeves rolled up all the time. Why would you cover it up?”
Neville shrugged. “I got it for myself, not for an audience. And I certainly couldn’t have it visible at Hogwarts. Minerva is very serious about the Unity program, so a symbolic representation of Gryffindor killing Slytherin would not be helpful.”
“As a Slytherin,” Theo said, “I’d like to go on record that I was deeply relieved when you decapitated Nagini.” He shuddered. “That thing was terrifying.”
Hermione looked quickly at Draco. Nagini had been a resident of Malfoy Manor along with her master. Draco had watched Nagini kill and eat innocent Muggles, Muggleborns, and his former professor, Charity Burbage. Voldemort delighted in having Nagini devour her victims at the dining room table while Death Eaters and their families were seated and then served their own dinners. Draco was pale now, even paler than usual, and Hermione could see the tightness in his jaw. She reached for his hand under the table, and twined her fingers with his. He gave it a grateful squeeze and took a deep breath. Hermione understood. One thing they’d found that they shared was, ironically, what Muggles called PTSD. Both of them had seen mind healers for some time, and they were doing well in their professions, but the trauma of their wartime experiences would never be entirely gone, and it still surfaced in dreams.
It would surely be a bad idea to try to build a relationship on such a damaged foundation, Hermione thought, but at least she never had to explain to Draco why her hands shook when she was very tired or stressed. Draco knew all about the aftereffects of prolonged Cruciatus. In a strange way, it was comforting that they had both suffered so much during the war. They knew the worst of each other’s history.
Harry was smiling broadly. “Neville Longbottom, mild-mannered professor by day, Serpent Slayer by night!” he said.
Hermione giggled, but everyone else, including Neville, stared at him blankly. Harry smacked himself in the forehead. “Superheroes? Comic books? Is it only a Muggle thing?”
“What’s a comic book?” Theo asked. “Would George have any in the joke shop?”
Harry shook his head. “Do you know about graphic novels? Comic books are kind of like graphic novels.”
He was met with more blank looks.
“Muggles have stories about superheroes,” Hermione explained. “They’re fiction, of course, but superheroes have secret identities, mostly as very ordinary people who blend in with the general population. It’s so well-known that it’s used to describe anyone who is … I don’t know, more than they appear at first glance?”
“I think I understand,” Luna said. “Harry meant that Neville appears to be quiet and reserved, but that under that modest exterior, he is a heroic warrior.”
“Yes, exactly,” Harry agreed.
Neville’s face was flushed deep red. “You know I hate that hero bullshit,” he muttered.
“Why not just accept it for what it is?” Charlie suggested. “After all, you actually did kill Nagini and destroyed the last Horcrux.”
“It’s not … it’s never been the most important thing in my life.”
“Merciful Merlin!” Theo exclaimed. “Please tell about all the things in your life that have been more important than saving the Wizarding World from annihilation.”
“I didn’t,” Neville said sharply. “I was part of Dumbledore’s Army, but only a small part. Stop exaggerating.”
It was so unlike Neville to raise his voice that all conversation around the table stopped, and no one smiled.
Luna stood up. “I’m going to get us all some pure mineral water because I sense a distinct weakening of the ringblats,” she said firmly, and went to the bar.
Draco rubbed his forehead and turned to Theo. “Are the ringblats in the room with us right now?”
“I believe they are,” Theo replied, “but they can’t be seen, they can only be sensed.”
“Of course.”
“It’s no big deal,” Hermione said. “Mineral water won’t do us any harm, and it means a lot to Luna. Just go along with it.”
Draco looked like he was about to protest, but he caught a look in Hermione’s eyes that derailed him. Be kind to my friend, it meant. His face softened, and he smiled. “No problem.”
Harry saw it and kicked Ginny under the table again. “I know,” she whispered. “I’m not blind.”
Luna returned, and they all drank the mineral water as directed, then began to say their goodnights. Harry and Ginny were the first to go. Ginny was still living at the Burrow, per Molly’s strict instructions, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t spend some time with Harry at 12 Grimmauld Place. George, who completely agreed with Ginny that she was a grown witch who could make her own decisions, had charmed the family clock to indicate that she was “in transit” whenever she went to Harry’s. Draco announced unnecessarily that he would walk Hermione to the apparition point, and they left together, followed shortly by Theo, Blaise, and Luna, who was offering more information on ringblats as they left.
“How about another drink?” Charlie asked Neville.
Neville gave him a faint smile. “Firewhisky.”
Charlie brought the drinks, and Neville picked his up and swirled the amber liquid in his glass. “I’m usually not as rude as I was tonight,” he said.
“You call that rude? Clearly, you’ve never spent any time with my brothers.”
Neville chuckled, but shook his head. “I don’t really like talking about the battle.”
“Yeah, I kind of deduced that. I won’t ask.”
“Thanks.”
Charlie took a swallow of his firewhisky. “Do you live at Hogwarts?”
“I do during the week, but I usually spend weekends at the cottage where I grew up.”
“Not the Estate?” Any pureblood wizard, even a Weasley, would have heard of the Longbottom Estate.
Neville shook his head. “The Estate is way too big for me. Even the cottage feels too big most of the time.”
Charlie narrowed his eyes. “How long have you been single?”
“A while.”
That made no sense at all. Neville was pleasant, intelligent, wealthy, and hot as fuck. “What’s wrong with people around here, then?”
“Sorry?”
“Look, I know it’s none of my business, but I’m having trouble understanding why you don’t have eligible witches lining up for the privilege of dating you.”
Neville was silent, looking across the room at nothing in particular. Charlie gave it another try. “I would really like it if you told me that you’re not interested in witches, because I know of at least one wizard who would like to get to know you better.”
Neville turned to him, not quite smiling. “I’m flattered, Charlie, really, but no. Definitely witches – or, at least, a witch.”
Charlie frowned. “You told me earlier that you’re not dating anyone.”
“I’m not.”
“But there’s a witch?”
Neville inclined his head in a half nod. “Yeah.”
He’s in love with somebody he can’t have, Charlie realized. Somebody married? Engaged? Or just not interested in him? The last seemed unlikely. He wondered if it was his sister; she and Neville seemed to be good friends. “Whoever she is, she’d be lucky to have you,” he said.
“You barely know me, Charlie.”
“Yeah, but I’m good at reading people. Besides, I’d like to date you, so I question the judgment of anyone who wouldn’t.”
“Thanks.” Neville smiled and finished his firewhisky. “I mean that.”
“Are you staying at your cottage tonight?”
“From tonight until Monday morning.”
“If at any time you want company – any kind of company, even just somebody to talk to, owl me. I’ll be at the Burrow until the end of the week.”
Neville’s hazel eyes met his, and Fuck, he’s gorgeous, Charlie thought, knowing he could lose himself in those eyes, dark green with flecks of gold, like pirate treasure in deep water.
Neville’s heart ached even more than usual. Maybe in another life, he told himself. Maybe there was some universe in which he could find happiness with Charlie Weasley, who was kind and warm and certainly fit, but not in this one. In the universe he actually existed in, there was only one person he would ever love.
“I’ll walk you to the apparition point,” Charlie said, echoing Draco.
Neville smiled, and followed him out the door. The apparition point was right around the corner and halfway down the block. They stood there awkwardly for a few minutes, trying to find the right thing to say. “It was a pleasure to meet you,” Neville said, taking refuge in a cliché. “I’d heard a lot about you, but you’re even better than I was told.”
“Friends, then?”
“Of course.”
Charlie pulled him in for a hug, a tight hug that lasted longer than hugs between friends usually did, and Neville, touch-starved, let himself lean into it. Just this, he told himself. Just the warmth and the closeness. Just for a few minutes.
Charlie kissed him softly on his temple. “Good night, then,” he said, his voice tight, and he apparated away.
Neville was barely able to get himself home before he broke, landing in the front hall of the cottage and dropping to his knees sobbing. It had been so long since he’d let himself cry, a year at least, maybe more. He cried well into the night, but the morning found him quiet, resigned, trying to make a plan. That afternoon, he owled Dean Thomas, and a week later, he apparated to Brighton.
Dean laid out several drawings for him, all of them well-done. Neville looked them over carefully, then pointed to one. “This, I think, but I’d like it both front and back.”
Dean nodded. “Take your shirt off.” Neville did as he was told, and Dean touched his left collarbone. “Start here?”
“Yeah.”
Dean’s hand made a rough circle toward his back from his collarbone to the top of his shoulder blade. “All this?”
“Yeah, as many colors as you can.”
“All right. You want realistic colors or fantasy colors?”
“Realistic.”
“And you’re sure you only want one kind of flower? I can get a lot more colors in if you have a variety.”
“No,” Neville said firmly. “Only pansies. Nothing else ever.”
Only Pansy. No one else ever.