Another Memory

On the twentieth anniversary of Harry's death Neville visited his grave alone for the first time. The first few years his Gran had visited with him, but Gran had long ago passed. It was the second hardest death Neville had endured to date, even more difficult then the passing of his parents. His Gran was his rock; taking care of her had helped during the healing process of losing Harry. Taking care of her had given him a reason to live.

When thinking about it Neville could hardly believe twenty years had passed since Harry had died, it seemed a lifetime. Neville was now alone in a way his friends could not comprehend. Everyone had married or settled down with a partner. He felt like he was the only one alone.

His exile was self-imposed. He knew Harry would want him to move on, to love again. But he felt it was a betrayal to his only love. So, Neville continued to live in mourning of a love that would never reach its culmination.

He had tried dating but no one could live up to his expectations. Furthermore, no one wanted to be in the shadow of the Boy Who Lived. Neville had heard that speech one too many times after a bad date. He wanted to scream it's not the Boy Who Lived that you can't live up to, it's Harry. But he knew no one would understand. Unless you knew Harry and truly knew him you couldn't. Neville couldn't find the words to explain that. And even if he could only those who knew Harry would understand. He was special, irreplaceable. There would never be another man like Harry Potter, and it had nothing to do with being the Boy Who Lived.

After Gran died Draco offered Neville a wing in the Manor, Neville declined politely. Draco had settled long ago at that point and had several children, which weren't a bother to Neville but he had become used to the silence and frankly, he didn't want to leave the bedroom he had once shared with Harry. The memories were all he had left and he didn't dare put too much space between himself and the tangible things that reminded him of his love.

Considering the years they were friends then the eighteen months they were lovers it was surprising how few tangible things existed from there relationship. Several photographs, a couple letters, and a scandalizing Daily Prophet article the two had framed. The only objects that would obviously show an outsider Neville had once belonged to an 'us'.

There were more reminders to Neville however, a scarf that he would never wear, a cloak that remained on the hook Harry had left it on all those years ago, Harry's favorite shirt that still hung in the closet because Neville could never bring himself to get rid of it, an ancient Firebolt, a stack of newspapers articles from when Voldemort was defeated, and a picture taken in the Gryffindor common room on the first day back from summer at the beginning of seventh year during the days when Harry and Neville's seemingly innocent flirting had just begun, to name a few.

Neville knew on some level it was wrong to continue his life this way. But it was too hard to let go. He had only loved once and being a timid, insecure man did not lend to letting himself 'get out there' as he had been told to do. Furthermore, he was still in love with Harry and privately knew he would always remain so. He didn't want to use the term soul mate to describe what he had with Harry; he felt the word was too trite, clichéd. Love, pure and honest love was the only way Neville could describe their relationship. He had never been that honest with anyone, that open, that vulnerable. And it was his fate to remain that way.

Neville would remain Harry's, even in death.