Becoming Neville

Following Harry and Neville's unauthorized excursion into London, the members of the Order decided to permit an escorted trip in the hope that it would keep the boys from running off again. So a day was planned for Neville and Harry to join some of their friends in Diagon Alley. When the day of the grand excursion arrived, the boys could scarcely contain their excitement. They flooed with Remus to the Leaky Cauldron just after breakfast. Harry went first, and Neville followed, bumping into Harry when he stepped out of the fireplace at the other end.

"Ow! Watch it, Neville, you almost knocked me over!" Harry complained.

"Sorry about that."

"Neville!" Dean was standing right in front of him, beaming wildly. He seemed to have grown several inches since the end of term. "It's bloody good to see you, mate!"

"You too, Dean."

"You'll never believe how close to disaster we almost came! My wretched sister Lucy wanted to come too, and Mum almost let her. But then she got into a fight with Howie over the Game Boy and punched him, so Mum grounded her."

Neville wondered who the Game Boy was and was about to ask how badly he'd been hurt, when behind him, someone cleared his throat. He turned to see Remus crouching in the fireplace.

"Would you gentlemen be so good as to move? It's rather cramped in here."

"Oh, sorry!" They moved out of the way, and Remus stepped out of the fireplace, shaking the ashes out of his robe.

"How are you, Professor Lupin?" Dean asked. "Do you remember me?"

"Of course I do, Dean. How could I forget when your boggart turned into a severed hand?"

"And then I got it caught in a mousetrap!" Dean beamed to have been remembered, and he glanced at the boys. "I can't believe your luck, getting to spend the summer with Professor Lupin. Wish I could stay with you."

Harry turned eagerly to Remus. "Could he?"

Remus shot him a warning look. "The place is full enough as it is. We can't have anyone else there."

"Oh. Right." He turned back to Dean. "Sorry."

"Are the Weasleys here yet?" Neville asked.

"Not yet. You two are the first ones to arrive. After me, I mean." Dean sighed. "I wish we could have invited Seamus. Then all of us would be here."

A whoosh in the fireplace signaled a new arrival, and Hermione climbed out, flashing a brilliant smile when she saw Neville. To his surprise, she flung her arms around his neck in a quick hug. He couldn't remember if she'd ever hugged him before, and he awkwardly patted her shoulder.

Releasing him, she stepped back and greeted the others. "Hello, Harry, Dean." There was a quick flurry of "How are you" and "Good to see you," and then they were interrupted by a high-pitched shriek.

"Dean!"

A red flash streaked past Neville, and Ginny Weasley threw herself into Dean's arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. Dean spun her around. "Hey, gorgeous!" and then Ginny stopped his mouth with a voracious kiss.

Neville's jaw hung open, and he glanced at Harry to see him equally astonished.

"Stop that right now!"

An indignant Ron stood in front of the fireplace, glowering at Dean and Ginny. He pointed an accusing finger at them, as if preparing to throw a hex. "None of that! It's not right!"

Another rush in the fireplace, and a tall man appeared with long red hair in a ponytail, and a dragon tooth dangling from his ear.

"Stop them, Bill!" Ron hollered. "Mum wouldn't like it."

Bill glanced at Dean and Ginny, who were lustily ignoring Ron and everyone else in the pub. He smirked, "Tell you what, little brother: you ignore Ginny's behavior, and I'll ignore yours."

"It's not right, Bill! You have to stop them!"

Ignoring him, Bill turned to greet Remus, and Hermione sidled up to Ron. "Leave them alone, Ron."

"Thomas," Ron growled, "you'd better put my sister down right now, or there'll be trouble."

Still wrapped around Dean, Ginny stuck her tongue out at her brother, the tongue which, Neville realized, had just been tickling Dean's tonsils. Then she jumped down to stand protectively in front of Dean, who wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Hullo to you, too, Ron," Harry said before Ron could complain again.

Ron wavered, caught between the desire to yell at Dean and to greet Harry. With a sigh, he chose the latter. "'Lo, Harry."

"You didn't say hello to me yet," Hermione primly pointed out.

"Hello," he said, and she rewarded him with a quick kiss on the cheek.

Embarrassed, Neville looked away, only to see Dean nuzzling Ginny's neck. This trip would be excruciating if it turned out to be a double date. He glanced at Harry, who was staring awkwardly at the floor.

"Let's go then," Bill announced. "Fred and George are expecting us."

Bill and Remus headed out the door, Hermione dragging Ron with her. Neville followed Harry, keenly aware that Dean and Ginny were behind them, attached at the hip. They made a strange parade down the street, with the couples engaged in furtive whispers and cuddles, leaving Neville and Harry awkwardly paired, yet curiously alone. Neville quickened his pace to match Harry's, but Harry avoided his gaze, staring straight ahead at Ron and Hermione. Neville glanced ahead at Remus and Bill Weasley, who managed to walk side by side like two perfectly normal people, but sandwiched between two couples, Neville didn't know how to walk with Harry without somehow implying something that he'd really rather not imply at all. He let himself fall behind so he and Harry weren't side by side. He could see the stiff set to Harry's shoulders, and he lowered his gaze to Harry's backside, watching how the ill-fitting trousers hung low on his hips. Harry had a skinny bum, and Neville was glad he wasn't wearing robes that would have concealed his backside, though he wondered how Harry managed to keep his trousers up, even with a belt.

His contemplation was interrupted when Hermione called out to him. "Oh, Neville, I forgot! I wanted to tell you something."

She gestured to him, and Neville skirted around Harry to catch up with her. She took his arm, while Harry lurked just behind them.

"I have information about your doctor," she whispered. "I think you'll find it *very* interesting."

"What is it?" he asked.

"Not now. We'll have to find a time when the others aren't around."

"Hey, what about me?" Ron bristled.

"I didn't mean you and Harry, of course."

Neville quickly glanced behind him. "I wouldn't mind if Ginny and Dean know."

Ron scowled. "I don't know. They seem a bit *preoccupied.*"

"And you aren't?" Harry shot back.

"Oh honestly, won't you two stop it?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "Anyway, Neville, I don't have anything definite, but I think you're right to be suspicious about your doctor."

Neville was bursting to know what Hermione had discovered, but he knew he'd have to wait.

From behind them, Ginny called out, "Neville!"

He turned and glanced at her, and Ron urged, "Go on, mate. You can keep an eye on her."

"I wouldn't dare," he muttered to himself as he fell back with Ginny and Dean. She seized his arm and slowed their pace until they were several steps behind the others.

"All right, what are they up to?" she whispered. "I know something's going on. Last time Harry came over, he and Ron were all secretive and sending owls to Hermione."

Neville hesitated, glancing ahead at the others.

"Oi, Neville!" Ginny hissed. "You and me used to be friends. Don't tell me that now you're hanging out with the Boy Who Lived," she rolled her eyes, "you want to join their little saving the world club."

"Ginny!" Her resentment surprised him.

"She's right," added Dean. "They're always running off and doing these things on their own. If they're up to DA business, then everyone in the DA should know."

"It's not DA business, it's *my* business!"

His protest surprised Ginny. "What do you mean?"

He glanced ahead again, to see that the others were half a block away. The Heroic Trio didn't own this secret; it was his to share with whomever he wanted. "It's about my parents," he said quietly.

"Oh, Neville," said Ginny, her hand tightening on his arm. "Are they all right?"

Glancing around to make sure no one was hovering nearby who could overhear, Neville quickly told them the story. When he finished, Ginny exclaimed, "Oh Neville, that's just awful! Please, let me help."

"I'll help, too," Dean added.

"Thanks, but I'm not sure how anyone can help right now. Hermione says I'm right not to trust Dr. Driftwood, but I don't know what I can do about it. I won't be their guardian until I turn eighteen."

"Well, we'll help any way we can," Ginny vowed, and Dean nodded enthusiastically.

"Thanks, you two," Neville smiled.

Dean looked up the street. "Hey! Where'd the others go?"

"They're in the shop!" Ginny exclaimed. "We're here! I'm so excited. Mum's never let me come to the shop before. She says it's a disgrace, but secretly I think she's rather proud."

Leading both boys by the arm, Ginny pulled them into a shop that said, "Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes." The shop inside bustled with greetings and laughter and back slaps, George and Fred beaming at the center of it all, every bit as boisterous and noisy as Neville remembered.

Seeing them, George swooped down on Ginny, picking her up and spinning her around. "There's ickle Ginnikins! How's my baby? Need a nappy change?"

"Get off, George, you stupid prat! Put me down!" But she didn't seem too angry.

"Oi, Thomas," Fred greeted. "You'd better be taking good care of our sister, fawning all over her, giving her lots of prezzies."

"In fact, if you're out of ideas, we've got many fine gifts to choose from," added George.

Ginny scowled. "Don't even think about it, Dean!"

"I'm not that stupid, sweetie," he replied.

"Smart lad, there," George approved. "But there's a ten percent discount for all Gryffindors, so you might want to pick up some treats for that little Irish mate of yours."

"A discount?" Dean asked, eyeing the displays with interest.

"But you, sir!" George exclaimed, pointing at Lupin, who looked shocked to have been singled out. "We must shake your hand, sir."

George reached out and enthusiastically pumped at Remus's arm before being replaced by Fred.

"Indeed, sir," Fred added, "we'd kneel at your feet, but we don't want to embarrass you."

Remus blushed. "I-I'm afraid I don't--"

"Ashamed!" said George, "Ashamed we are, not to have realized sooner!"

Placing his hand over his heart, Fred solemnly said, "Mr. Moony, you are the god of our idolatry."

"Umm-"

"Lifetime discount of fifty percent off for you, dear sir!" trumpeted George.

"And you will always be an honored guest at Weasley and Weasley's," Fred added.

"Well," Remus awkwardly cleared his throat. "Thank you, boys. That's very generous."

Dean tugged at Neville's sleeve and whispered, "What are they going on about?"

"I've no idea," Neville whispered back.

"And you, Bill!" George added. "Twenty percent discount to family members!"

Shaking his head, Bill asked, "How do you two expect to make any profit with all these discounts?"

"Easy. We overcharge everyone else." Fred looked to his twin. "Now George, if you would be so good as to put up the 'out to lunch' sign, let's give our guests a tour of the establishment."

"Right-o, old chap!" George sang. He flicked his wand at the door, and the painted letters on the window bled together and re-formed to spell, "Out to Nunch."

"Still got to work on that charm, there," Fred chided.

George shrugged. "It's close enough."

The tour turned out to be a chaotic enterprise, as everyone browsed at will through the shelves, and the twins interrupted each other in their zeal to show off all their latest inventions. Neville listened with interest, but he had no desire to touch anything. He'd been the victim of a few too many of Fred and George's test trials. The others were not so shy, however, and they pawed through the displays, looking out for treasures.

"Hello!" Dean exclaimed, pulling a long, flat box out of a stack. "This is a Muggle game."

George glanced over at him. "Yeah, we nicked that from Dad. He's got loads of the stuff lying around, and we thought it might prove useful."

"Scrabble?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. "That seems a bit...educational for a joke shop."

"Oh, but here's the thing," explained Fred, taking the box from Dean and pulling open the lid. "You're supposed to spell out words with these little chips, right? But I'm working on a charm so whenever you land on one of those "double score" squares, the chips rearrange themselves into naughty words. Very educational, indeed."

"Dirty word Scrabble, eh?" Harry said. "My cousin's always playing that game. Four-letter words are the only kind he can spell."

Fred and George looked stricken.

"What?" Fred cried.

"Hang on there, Potter," George said. "You mean to tell us that your idiot cousin already thought of this game?"

Harry shrugged.

George turned and thwacked his twin on the head with the box lid. "You imbecile! I can't believe you've been spending all this time trying to make a game that Potter's doltish cousin likes to play!" He beat him with the lid, and Fred ducked.

"I'm sorry! I didn't know!"

"That's enough of that stupid game! What a bloody waste!"

While George pummeled Fred, Neville picked up the box and inspected the chips. Each one had a letter on it.

"See the little numbers?"

Harry was leaning over his shoulder, his voice close in Neville's ear, and he felt a pleasant shiver at Harry being so near.

"You spell out the words," Harry explained, "and you get points for which letters you use. Dudley thinks it's fun to spell out insults."

Neville picked up one of the tiles, rubbing its smooth surface between his fingers as an idea began taking shape in his mind. He turned to the twins. "How much do you want for this game?"

George paused in his beating, and Fred said, "There, see? A potential purchase. But Neville, the game isn't charmed. It doesn't spell anything."

"That's all right. What's the price?"

"Five sickles," said George.

"A galleon," said Fred.

They glanced at each other in silent negotiation, then simultaneously turned and smiled at Neville.

"Seeing as how you were always such a good sport about testing our advance products -"

"-we'll sell it to you for the special price of -"

"- ten sickles," they finished together.

As Neville reached into his pocket for the money, Bill slowly shook his head at his brothers. "It'll be a miracle if you two ever turn a profit."

*****

When they had seen everything in the shop, and everyone had made a purchase - even Remus, who had bought a set of exploding ink quills - the twins closed up the shop and they all went out to lunch. The twins took them to a favorite pub of theirs, where the party squeezed around a long table in the back. Ron and Ginny sat at opposite corners, as far away from each other as possible. Dean draped his arm around Ginny's shoulders, and she snuggled up next to him, almost sitting in his lap.

Ron scowled. "Stop that! None of that at the table - urk!" He choked and abruptly turned a fascinating shade of red that clashed violently with his hair. Next to him, Hermione appeared non-plussed, but her hand was conspicuously not in view.

"What's that, old boy?" George teased. "You choke on something?"

"Do you need a glass of water?" Fred added.

"Maybe something's got your tongue?"

"Or other parts."

Bill lightly chided, "That's enough, you two."

"Ah, young love!" George melodramatically sighed. "How fondly I remember those halcyon days!"

"Yes, you're getting old before your time," Fred agreed. "Me, however, I'm just hitting my prime."

"If that's so, then why does the fair Angelina no longer visit our shop?"

"She'll be back, don't worry. Certainly sooner than that hag friend of yours. What was her name - Gertrude?"

"Geneveive." George glanced across the table at Harry, grinning widely. "Twenty years old, she is. Let me sing to you the praises of older women, my friend!"

Fred nodded. "Older women: that's the way to go!"

"And speaking of older women," George asked, "how is the lovely Miss Chang these days?"

Harry blushed. "I, uh - I wouldn't know."

"Ah well, so it goes. Best to forget about her, Harry. You can do better."

"You don't want to be wasting your time on a girl who's still in school," said Fred.

"Hey!" Ginny shot her brother a foul look.

"Present company excepted."

"But there's a sweet thing who works in the shop next to ours," continued George.

Fred sighed. "Miss Emily."

"Eighteen years old."

"Very pretty."

"Fills out her blouse quite nicely, if you know what I mean."

Hermione glared at the twins. "Honestly! How can you be so superficial?"

"These things are important," Fred protested.

"Both of them!" George added.

Ginny pouted. "You see the kind of sexist attitude I have to put up with?"

"Hey," said Ron, "They don't talk about *your* - uh, erm." He gestured wildly, unable to mention that particular part of Ginny's anatomy.

"Breasts, Ron! Say it!" Ginny said. "I have them, too. Whenever you objectify women, you objectify me!"

"They'd better not talk about your breasts," Dean warned. "They're your brothers. That's disgusting."

Fred continued, "Anyway, Harry, we'd be happy to introduce you to Miss Emily. We think you should meet her."

"We're sure you'll like *all* her parts," George added.

Harry blushed and looked down at the table. "No thanks, anyway."

"Oh come on, mate. You need to get out into the world!"

"We'll be your ticket to the young wizarding scene."

"Girls just love a bloke with glasses."

"And scars. They're mad for scars."

Clearing his throat, Remus interrupted, "I thought we came here for lunch, not dating advice?"

Everyone's attention was quickly distracted to the menus, and out of the corner of his eyes, Neville saw Harry's shoulders droop in relief. The conversation turned to other topics, frequently several at the same time, and Neville had a hard time keeping up with it all. But at some point he felt Harry's leg pressed up against his under the table. In fact, Harry was so close to him, he had some trouble using his fork and knife without jabbing Harry's ribs with his elbow. Granted, there were ten of them squeezed tightly around a table meant for eight, but it did seem like Harry was a bit closer than necessary. Neville leaned his knee against Harry's and felt an answering pressure. The heat of Harry's leg traveled straight up his thigh to his groin, and Neville wriggled a bit in pleasure, which had the added benefit of rubbing some more against Harry's leg. He covered his sigh by taking a deep drink from his water glass.

They lingered over their meal for some two hours, but eventually the twins had to admit that duty called. They bid the others farewell and then headed off, while the rest of them debated what to do next. Dean wanted to shop, since he didn't come to Diagon Alley very often, but Hermione piped up, "I've heard the Museum of Witchcraft has a special exhibit on China: Four Thousand Years of Magical History."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh, that sounds jolly fun. I could really use a nap."

"Oh come on, Ron, the Hogwarts curriculum is far too restricted to European traditions. This would give us an excellent opportunity to expand our cultural knowledge. I wonder if the exhibit covers the Shaolin monks?"

"Shaolin?" Dean perked up. "You mean like Jackie Chan and Bruce Lee? Cool."

"Who're they?" Ron asked. "Some kind of famous Chinese wizards?"

"I vote no on the monks," said Harry. "How about the Quidditch shop? Maybe there are some new brooms."

Ginny frowned. "Who wants to shop for brooms we can't afford to buy?" Harry looked sheepish at that.

"What about the park?" Neville offered. "I always liked playing in the labyrinth."

"Lover's Hedge?" Ron scoffed. "Ugh. It's always full of people kiss--." He screeched to a halt. "-Oh."

"What?" Neville asked. "What's Lover's Hedge?"

Bill smirked. "It's what some people call the labyrinth. It's a popular dating spot. You know, all those secluded nooks."

Neville blushed. He had no idea that's what people used the labyrinth for. It was just a fun place his Gran used to take him to after they visited St. Mungo's. He was embarrassed to have suggested it, but Ginny piped up, "I'm up for that."

"Me too," Dean added quickly.

"That could be fun," said Ron.

But Hermione's eyes were locked on Neville. "That's an excellent suggestion."

Why was she looking at him? Panicked that she was making some kind of pass at him, Neville squawked, "What? I don't think it's a good idea."

"But you suggested it," Ginny pointed out.

"I changed my mind!"

Her eyes still on him, Hermione said, "It's a good idea, Neville, especially if one wanted to have a private conversation."

He couldn't believe Ron hadn't killed him yet, the way Hermione was making eyes at him. "Oh, but--."

Hermione squinted sharply at him, but what shut him up was Harry bumping into him and stepping on his foot.

"Let's go then," Harry said.

Raising an eyebrow at Remus, Bill said, "What do you say? Shall we let these tykes loose in the labyrinth all un-chaperoned?"

"It depends. Is Molly more likely to get angry at you, or me?"

Bill laughed. "Don't worry. I'll handle the Wrath of Mum. So let's go."

They headed off down the street, everyone chatting away except Neville. What had he gotten himself into? Did Hermione really want to go into the labyrinth with him? For that matter, did Harry? His poor body was so conflicted by simultaneous panic and arousal that he tripped over his own feet and almost fell on his face, except for Harry grabbing his arm to steady him. Hermione appeared at his other side, and sandwiched between them, he began to think that fainting might be a perfectly sensible option.

Taking his arm, Hermione hissed in his ear, "Don't you get it, Neville?"

"G-get what?"

She sighed. "With all these people about, I'll never get the chance to tell you about you-know-what."

"You Know Who?"

"No!"

"Neville," Harry said. "You know: Driftwood."

"Oh," said Neville. Then, "Oh! Oh, right!" Relief flooded him at the realization that Hermione didn't want a snog. But then, if Hermione was talking to him, he couldn't snog Harry. And did he really want to snog Harry in Lover's Hedge, as if this were a date? Wouldn't that be far, far, far beyond the realm of practice? What would Remus say about all this in terms of "How to Tell if the Boy You Fancy Is That Way?"

They arrived at the park, but as soon as Harry saw the seven-foot-high hedges, he balked, the color draining from his face. "Oh. It's rather like the Triwizard tournament, isn't it?" He sounded nervous.

"Oh Harry," said Hermione. "I hadn't thought of that."

"There aren't any...surprises in there, are there?"

Ron shrugged. "Well there's, you know, benches and bowers. And a pond in the middle. And the occasional statue."

"And the hedges move," Neville added, "so it's never the same maze twice. But if you get lost, you just say, 'Show me the way out,' and a path opens up. Otherwise I'd still be stuck in there."

"Oh. All right." But Harry still looked a bit queasy. "All the same, I'd rather not go in there alone."

"Well then, why don't you go with Ginny and Dean," Hermione suggested, "and Neville can come with Ron and me."

"What?!" Ginny protested. "I don't want anyone to come with us."

"You two need a chaperone!" Ron squealed.

"Oh, stop it, all of you," Bill interrupted. "Hermione, that's not the way it's done. You and Ron go first. Then we'll send in Ginny and Dean, and then Harry can go with Neville."

Everyone seemed agreeable to this except Hermione, who frowned slightly.

"Well, go on, you two!" Bill prompted, ushering Ron and Hermione toward the entrance.

With one last look at Neville, Hermione took Ron's arm and they disappeared into the labyrinth.

Bill nodded at Ginny and Dean. "We'll give them a twenty-count, and then you two go next."

Neville shot a nervous glance at Remus, who answered with a reassuring nod.

A few seconds passed, and then Ginny shouted, "Twenty!" Grabbing Dean's hand, she pulled him into the maze.

Neville stared down at his toes, thrilled and terrified at the same time. He couldn't bear to look at Harry.

"So, Remus," Bill said, "what do you think? You going to sit this one out, or do you want to go in?"

Neville glanced up to see a strange little smile on Bill's face.

"I haven't been in the maze in a very long time," Remus said.

"They've made some improvements in the last few years. I could show you." The smile grew wider.

Remus shrugged. "All right."

Bill glanced at Harry and Neville. "You're up next, boys."

Neville was too engrossed in trying to figure out the meaning of Bill's smile to move, and Harry tugged on his sleeve. "Come on."

They walked into the labyrinth, and as soon as they turned the first corner, Harry whispered, "Did Bill Weasley just make a pass at Remus?" Neville had no idea what to say to that, and Harry shook his head. "That is so weird."

Neville wondered what part of it Harry found weird, and did he mean weird-strange or weird-bad? He couldn't figure out how to ask what he meant, so instead he said, "We ought to try to find Ron and Hermione."

"Yeah." Harry glanced around at the impenetrable hedges. "How exactly do we do that?"

"I don't know. I hadn't thought of that."

"Well, let's just go this way," Harry said, indicating a branching path. "Hopefully they didn't go far."

They walked on in silence, twisting and turning through the maze. Neville had always loved the labyrinth. Gran would go in with him, and he never felt lost and afraid, not when she was with him. He'd had no idea that this was a dating spot. It had just been a giant puzzle, an ever-changing playground. He and Gran would play hide and seek among the hedges, and he would climb on the statues and pick blossoms in the bowers and throw rocks in the pond. Things were so simple when you were a child. Then you grow up and they become complicated. He almost wished his Gran were here instead of Harry.

"It's creepy, isn't it?" Harry observed.

His thoughts interrupted, Neville glanced sharply at Harry, but Harry was looking back at the hedge that had moved to close off the path behind them.

"It's too much like the Triwizard tournament," Harry continued. "I don't see how anyone could think this is romantic."

Neville only shrugged and chewed on his lip.

They walked on, saying nothing, and it really wasn't very much fun. The possibility of romance put a damper on more simple pleasures.

"We're never going to find them," Harry said at last.

"My Gran used to tell me that if I ever got lost I should just stay in one place, and she'd come and find me."

"All right." Harry headed over toward a nearby bench and sat down. After a moment's hesitation, Neville joined him.

The sun shone down through the ivy of the bower, bathing them in a warm, green light. They could hear voices and birds and occasional shouts and laughter muted in the distance. Out there in the world people were talking and shopping, and maybe even kissing. Living their lives, fighting You-Know-Who, or wasting away in the resident's ward of St. Mungo's. But here, secluded in this green maze, he and Harry were alone, sitting together while bumblebees buzzed around them in the honeysuckle, and the sun dappled patterns on the grass. Life could be peculiar that way.

He watched as Harry idly stripped a leaf off the vine. "Do you ever feel like you're being left out?" Harry asked.

Neville snorted. That was the story of his life. "How do you mean?"

"I mean," he neatly tore the leaf down its central vein. "There's Ginny and Dean, and Ron and Hermione. Everybody seems to be in love or something." He let the two halves fall to the grass and peeled another leaf off the vine. "But I'm not sure I'm ready for that."

"Oh," said Neville, trying not to sound disappointed.

"I think it would be nice to be in love," Harry said. "And stuff. But it didn't seem to work out very well for me. I just don't know if I'm ready."

The topic was far too close for comfort, and anyway, Remus had recommended against talking about love with people. Neville thought that was very sage advice. His cheeks were burning with embarrassment already. He averted his face, studying the vines on his side of the bower with feigned interest.

Alas, Harry had not heard Remus's wisdom on the matter. "Everybody else seems to be ready, though. So maybe I should be ready, too." He hesitated. "Do *you* feel ready?"

Neville busied himself with a ladybug he had found crawling across a leaf, trying to coax it onto his finger. "Not really. But then, I'm kinda slow about a lot of things."

Harry was silent for a while. The ladybug crawled up Neville's index finger toward his palm. He liked the tickle of its tiny legs.

"Do you ever think about getting married and having kids someday?" Harry asked.

Neville did think about it, but in that vague, dream-like way that you thought about growing up, getting a job and buying a house. It seemed like part of the standard life package, but for now it didn't have much to do with him. He shrugged.

"I don't know if I really want that," Harry confessed. "I mean, the Dursleys haven't exactly been the best model for it. If you saw my Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, you'd *never* want to get married."

"But they're not all like that. The Weasleys are nice."

"Yeah." Harry pulled off another leaf. "I don't know, though. What if your kids turned out like Dudley? Or Malfoy?"

Neville gave an exaggerated shudder. The ladybug didn't care for the sudden earthquake, and altered course to climb over the edge of his hand. He twisted his wrist so he could keep track of it.

"It just seems so big and...." Harry sighed. "I don't *have* to get married, do I?"

"No," Neville answered, perhaps a bit too eagerly.

"Maybe I could be a bachelor," mused Harry. "That doesn't mean you can't date people. But then I wouldn't have to worry about the marriage and kids part."

"That's true." Neville caught the bug before it could crawl under his sleeve and redirected it back toward his palm.

"Remus isn't married," Harry pointed out. "Neither was Sirius. Though I guess being in Azkaban all those years would make it hard to meet anyone."

Neville tactfully remained silent on the subject of Remus and Sirius.

"For that matter," Harry went on, "Bill Weasley isn't married, either. Hey, you don't think he really *was* making a pass at Remus back there, do you?"

Neville really wished Harry would stop asking questions that he couldn't bear to answer.

"Still, I guess that being gay would be a reason to keep from getting married," Harry observed.

The bug was traveling resolutely in a westward direction over Neville's hand, and he had to keep twisting his arm to follow its progress. "My Great Uncle Clive isn't married."

"Is he gay?"

"I don't think so. He's like eighty years old."

"Do you think you'll ever get married?"

"No." Even if his tastes ran that way, he couldn't imagine anyone who would want him.

"Maybe we could both be bachelors," Harry suggested eagerly. "We could have a flat together. Bachelors do that. That wouldn't be so bad, would it?"

"Not at all," said Neville, trying not to betray his own enthusiasm for the idea. He and Harry: flatmates. That would indeed be a very pleasant future.

Harry leaned closer, watching the bug race over Neville's hand. "I mean, Remus isn't married."

"Lots of people aren't," Neville helpfully pointed out. The bug was crawling toward his wrist again.

"Yeah. Lots of people." Harry reached out a finger and touched Neville's wrist, cutting off the bug's escape route. The bug hesitated, then turned in the other direction. Again, Harry cut off the bug's path, and Neville's skin tingled at the soft touches as Harry tried to coax the bug onto his own finger. The bug was reluctant to leave Neville's hand, and Harry kept chasing it until the beetle at last opened its wings and flew away in exasperation.

"Sorry about that," Harry said, watching the bug disappear into the afternoon sun.

"It's all right." He rested his hand palm up on his knee, savoring the memory of Harry's fingers brushing against the soft skin of the inside of his wrist. It made him feel a bit queasy, but in a nice way.

The peace of the moment was interrupted by a strident voice. "There you are!"

They looked up to see Ginny and Dean round the hedge and come toward them.

"We've been looking all over for you!" Ginny complained, but all Neville could think about was the fact that Harry was scooting away from him to a more respectable distance.

"Well, you found us," he said, wishing they hadn't.

Ginny plopped down in the grass at their feet. "What did she tell you?"

"Who?"

"Hermione! I finally realized why she wanted you to go with them. She was going to tell you something."

Harry glanced sharply at Neville. "Ginny and Dean know?"

He shrugged. "I told them."

"Yeah, you're not the only one who gets to know things, Harry Potter," Ginny retorted. "So what did Hermione say?"

"Nothing yet," Neville told her. "We haven't seen them."

"We haven't seen them, either," Dean reported. "We saw Bill and Professor Lupin, though."

"What were they doing?" asked Harry, a bit sharply.

"Talking."

"About what?"

"I dunno. We didn't stay."

Ginny shifted on the grass so her head lay in Dean's lap. "I bet Ron and Hermione are off snogging somewhere."

"That's disgusting," Harry said.

Dean glanced up at him. "Harry, mate, you have *got* to get a clue."

Ginny's eyes shifted to Neville, but she didn't say anything.

"We figured if we just stayed here," he told her, "eventually they would show up."

"That's what you've been doing, then?" she asked, smirking.

"Yeah. And what have *you* been doing?"

"Snogging, of course."

Harry snorted. "I definitely didn't need to hear that."

Dean laughed, his hand wandering down the front of Ginny's blouse. She made no move to stop him, grinning up at Neville. He smirked back.

"Cut that out, you two," warned Harry.

"Honestly, Harry, you're starting to sound like Ron," Ginny said. "Neville doesn't mind, so why should you?"

Indignant, Harry turned on Neville, who merely shrugged. "It doesn't bother me." *He* certainly had no desire to touch Ginny's breasts.

Harry rolled his eyes, but before he could comment further, two figures rounded the corner.

"Oh, look!" Hermione called out, stopping up short so that Ron almost bumped into her. "Here you all are!"

Peering over her shoulder, Ron saw Dean and Ginny lying together on the grass. He pointed at Dean's roaming hand. "Bad touch! Bad touch!"

"Oh, stop it, Ron!" she rebuked, then turned and smiled at Neville. "Neville! Why don't you come with us for a while? There's something I want to show you."

Dean snickered. "Way to score, Neville!"

His ears flaming red, Ron squeaked, "That's just not right!"

"Ron!" Hermione shouted.

"It's all right, Hermione," Neville interrupted before some kind of fight broke out. "We don't have to talk privately."

"But!" Ron waggled a finger at Ginny and Dean.

"I already told them about my parents and Driftwood."

"But!" Ron repeated.

Ginny glared at him. "Get over it, Ron. Neville's not a sexist oppressor, unlike you!"

"I am *not* a sexy oppressor!"

"I don't know, mate," drawled Dean, "you keep trying to oppress *my* sexy."

Hermione glared at them all, hands on her hips, and Neville could see her as a professor some day, one even more formidable than Snape. "Does anyone want to hear about Dr. Driftwood, or not?" she seethed from between clenched teeth.

Instantly the others ceased their bickering and focused on Hermione. Appeased, she drew closer and sat down on the grass at Neville's feet, closely followed by Ron.

"Dr. Otis B. Driftwood," she began, sounding every bit as if she were delivering a lecture, "is a world-renowned specialist in spell damage. His life's work has been treating people who have been subjected to the Cruciatus curse. In this he has followed in the footsteps of his mentor, Dr. Hugo Hackenbush, who was known for his groundbreaking work in reversing mental and physical damage as a result of Cruciatus.

"However, in 1979, Dr. Hackenbush was brought before the Wizengamot on charges of unethical medical experiments. It turned out he had been casting Cruciatus on his subjects in order to study the effects of the curse. His subjects tended to be social outcasts with few resources or connections. In fact, he preferred to work with werewolves, because they could withstand his tests longer."

Everyone shuddered as they thought of Remus. Hermione took a moment to collect herself before continuing.

"In the course of investigating him, it was discovered that much of his research was funded by known Death Eaters. Furthermore, his office was ransacked shortly after his arrest, and many of his files were stolen. It was never conclusively proven that Dr. Hackenbush was a Death Eater, but he was convicted for his use of Cruciatus and sentenced to Azkaban. He died there four years later.

"As I said, Dr. Driftwood was one of his students. He was quick to distance himself from Hackenbush when he was arrested, and even testified against him at his trial. Dr. Driftwood was also investigated, but he was cleared of any wrongdoing. Since then he has devoted himself to helping victims of Cruciatus, and he is highly respected in the field.

"However, not everyone approves of him. Some mediwizards question his methods of treatment - some of the very things you're worried about, Neville, such as his reliance on poisonous ingredients in his potions. But there's more. He has done a lot of research funded by an organization called the Asclepius Howard Fund for Medical Research. Lucius Malfoy sat on the Board, and major donors in the past have included the Malfoys, the Lestranges, and other known or suspected Death Eaters.

"Of course, many wizarding organizations have connections to Death Eater money. Known and suspected Death Eaters are deeply woven into all levels of society, so the association alone isn't enough to discredit any organization. But I *do* think it's cause for concern, especially given the controversy over Dr. Driftwood's methods."

Hermione fell silent, and they all sat stunned, reflecting on what she had said. The sun no longer felt warm on Neville's skin. He couldn't shake the image of Driftwood shaking Malfoy's hand out of his mind. Driftwood, who had seemed so solicitous, yet who cut off all of Neville's objections. Driftwood saying, "I never look a gift horse in the mouth" -- not even a gift won by unethical experiments on werewolves, funded by Death Eater money. He thought of his mother, fighting to protect her baby, and nausea threatened to overcome him.

Something brushed against his elbow, taking the edge off the chill that had settled over him. He looked up to see Harry hovering next to him, eyes wide with concern.

"Th-there's one more thing," Ron said, his voice a bit wobbly. "That Hackenbush fellow? His brain was in that tank at the Ministry."

Her expression tender, Hermione reached out and took his hand in hers. Then she looked up at Neville. "Ron has his memories."