No Potions Today, Neville

Neville Longbottom hated only three things. The first were the Lestranges, because it was they who had tortured his parents to insanity, and made it so he had to live with his Gram. The second was Voldemort, because Neville knew that the Lestranges had tortured his parents under Voldemort's orders, and also because Voldemort just wouldn't die. Sure, some of what he felt towards the Dark Lord was fear, but most was hot, burning hate that sometimes kept him awake nights and he would head down to the common room, where he often found a messy haired boy who was also having problems with sleeping...the two of them often talked, and Neville had found that this helped him sleep more than anything else had. The third thing Neville hated wasn't as deep as the rest, but Neville loathed it just the same. Potions, the bane of Neville's existence at Hogwarts. The one class that he just couldn't master, no matter how hard he tried.

Of course, he wasn't sure that it was the subject itself. Potions was hard, but so was Transfiguration, and Neville was getting quite good at the latter despite his shortcomings with the help of Professor McGonagall. No, Neville thought that the subject wasn't the problem; rather, the person who taught it was.

Professor Snape was an oily, greasy-haired git who hated everyone in the world, but Gryffindors the most. He had a special chunk of hatred for Harry Potter, but that didn't mean that there wasn't enough left over for everyone else, much to Neville's dismay. It wasn't so bad if you were a genius like Hermione, who could brew a perfect potion in her sleep, or were okay at Potions and good at keeping your mouth shut, like Dean. But if you systematically blew up or melted your cauldron due to simple mistakes, like Neville, you were in trouble. Snape had a tongue like a knife, and he didn't hesitate to use it. First year Neville he'd put Neville in tears with some unusually harsh comments, but Neville hadn't been foolish enough to actually cry in front of the Professor. He'd suffered that particular embarrassment in the loo...alone, thank Merlin. He didn't know what he would have done if one of the other boys had seen him crying.

It wasn't as if it was a secret how scared Neville was of Snape. Both Dean and Seamus had caught him throwing up before Potions, and everyone knew what his boggart had come up as third year. Neville couldn't help it. He'd always been scared of bats, and the fact that Snape rather resembled one when he swooped down to tell Neville what a dunce he was at Potions didn't help the Neville's fear of the man abate any. He didn't hate Snape exactly; his fear went too deep for that. It was more an intense terror that was almost as bad as facing the Death Eaters fifth year had been.

So it was no small wonder that Neville was once again heaving on a bright Friday morning during his sixth year as a Hogwarts student. He had somehow gotten an Outstanding on his Potions O.W.L. (which strengthened his theory that Snape was the cause of all of his problems in the class itself), and although he hated Potions and wouldn't step foot inside that classroom if he had a choice, he needed to take the N.E.W.T.S class if he wanted to become a first rate Healer, which had been his ambition since he heard what had happened to his parents.

As it happened, today was double Potions, which meant that the Gryffindors who had qualified for the N.E.W.T.S. class would go through two periods of torture instead of the one. On the bright side, after that he had Herbology, which was Neville's favorite class, and the only class he had never had trouble in. But it was hard to look on the bright side of things when he still had two hours of Potions to go through, and none other than Harry Potter had just walked in to find him with his head bent over the toilet bowl, retching horribly.

Harry didn't make a big deal out of it; just went about brushing his teeth like it was an every day occurrence to find one's dorm mate tossing up his breakfast...though he did run the water the whole time he was brushing. Neville was grateful for Harry's display of tact. When he had finished, he flushed the toilet and stood, wiping his mouth and making a face. He went over to the sink and rinsed his mouth out quickly, grabbing his own toothbrush and brushing vigorously, trying to rid himself of the taste of bile as fast as possible. Harry sent him a sympathetic grin.

"I know how you feel." he said, and shook his head mournfully. Harry had also somehow scraped an Outstanding on his Potions O.W.L., and was in Neville's N.E.W.T.S. class. There was no doubt that Snape treated Harry worse than he treated any other student in the school, but no one ever saw Harry puking his guts out before Snape's class...probably because Harry hated Snape almost as much as he hated Voldemort, which was saying something. In Harry's mind, it had been Snape's fault that his godfather Sirius had come for him in the Ministry of Magic in fifth year, thereby signing his own death warrant as he battled with his cousin Bellatrix Lestrange and fallen through what Neville assumed was the Veil of Death, though no one had ever told him so. Now, it was more than likely you would find Harry practicing his curses before Snape's class, but never throwing up. Sometimes Neville wished that he could just hate Snape and be done with it, like Harry, but after looking into Harry's eyes, he always changed his mind. The other boy's eyes were shadowed, haunted, and Neville was sure that though Harry would most likely beat Voldemort, he would lose much of himself in the process; perhaps enough to make people wonder whether it had been worth it for him or not.

Neville shook himself out of his thoughts rather abruptly, not liking where they were headed. Having Potions in the morning always put him in a somber mood, one that sometimes took hours to get out of. That was just one more thing to hate about it.

Sighing, Neville went out into his dorm, grabbed his Potions book, and started out of the portrait hole, when he heard Harry calling him. Turning, he saw Harry walking out of the bathroom, a smile on his face. When he saw that he had Neville's attention he told him, "Hang on a second and I'll walk with you." Neville waited as Harry picked up his Potions book and walked over to him, and they left the room together, ignoring the indignant cry the Fat Lady sent them for leaving her hanging open so long.

They walked in comfortable silence, and Neville wondered what was up. Harry usually waited for Hermione and Ron before he headed to Potions; they would drop Ron off at the Transfiguration classroom and continue on their way. It was true that Harry had been much nicer to Neville as of late, sitting with him in a few of the classes they had together, sometimes offering Neville help with his more difficult assignments and even partnering with him in Potions a few times, but never before had Harry volunteered to walk with him, and Neville was curious as to why.

"Not that I'm complaining or anything," he started, unsure how to bring the subject up but knowing he had to, "but why are you walking with me? Don't you want to walk with Hermione and Ron?"

Harry shrugged, and grinned up at Neville. "Hermione and Ron can keep each other company", he said simply. "I'm sure that they want some alone time anyway. Besides," and a small blush stained his cheeks, a blush which Neville found oddly endearing, "I want to walk with you."

"Oh." Neville felt his own face heat up slightly at Harry's words, and he turned his face away from the other boy, smiling foolishly. He tried to calm himself down as they continued on their way to the dungeons, but telling himself that what Harry said wasn't important, that it didn't really mean anything, and even if it did, not what he wanted it to wasn't helping. Neville couldn't help being foolishly happy all the same.

By now they had reached the classroom, on time for once. As luck would have it, none other than Draco Malfoy was entering at the same time they were, and he had to make a typically rude comment as he went by.

"Well, Potter, did your friends finally ditch you to hang out with little better than a Squib? Though I do suppose he's a little better than a mudblood...but not by much."

Harry's face went crimson with anger, and he started to pull out his wand, but Neville grabbed his arm. "Really, Harry, it's not worth it," he said softly, and Harry relaxed slightly, lowering his wand.

Malfoy sneered. "That's right, Potter, do as your new owner tells you," he said quietly. He stepped closer to Harry, then turned to Neville, smiling maliciously. "I suppose he feels sorry for you, with you're parents the way they are and all," he hissed, making the same grotesque face he had in fifth year, and Neville felt his anger boiling to the surface, along with a small pang of unease that what Malfoy said might be true. After all, Harry did know about his parents, thanks to a visit to St. Mungo's the year before. Maybe Harry was just feeling sorry for poor Neville, the boy with the crazy parents.

Neville didn't have too much time to think this new thought over, though, because right now he was angry, and his anger had no time for unsettling thoughts about another boy's motives for walking with him. Instead, his anger decided, Neville should throw himself at Malfoy for the second time in as many years, but this time there would be no letting Harry stop him from pummeling Malfoy's face.

With a yell, Neville threw himself upon Malfoy, who looked utterly shocked. Why he did, Neville would never know. It wasn't as if Malfoy didn't know the way that Neville would react, having seen it first hand the year before...but no matter, Neville fully intended to use Malfoy's pause to his own advantage. While Malfoy was busy gaping, Neville screwed up one fist, and lifted it to smash into Malfoy's surprised face. There was a crack, and Malfoy let out a shriek, falling to his knees and holding his jaw. Neville glared down at the other boy and said, "Don't you ever even think of saying anything about my parents ever again."

Turning back to Harry, he was just in time to see the dumfounded look on the darker boy's face melt into a grin of pure delight. "That was awesome!" he said, grinning at Neville and clapping him on the back.

Neville started to grin back, when the voice that never failed to make his blood run cold hissed, "What is going on here?"

Gulping, Neville turned to look into the face of his Potions Master, who was glaring down at him. The pleasant feeling of putting Malfoy in his place dissolved and a knot of terror replaced it. Neville opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out. Snape took in the sight of Malfoy cradling his broken jaw on the floor, Harry's delight, and Neville's terror before hissing, "No, I see what happened. Longbottom, Potter, headmaster's office. Malfoy, Hospital Wing. And that'll be fifty points from Gryffindor each for fighting." Harry gave a token protest, but Snape cut him off. "Would you rather it be a hundred each?" he asked, and Harry shut up.

Glaring at Snape, he said, "C'mon, Neville, let's not waste any more of his precious time."

Grabbing Neville's hand, he pulled him towards the headmaster's office, only acknowledging Snape's call of "That'll be twenty more points, Potter," by increasing his pace. Only when they were well out of Snape's sight did Harry slow up, though he did not let go of Neville's hand, and Neville decided that he quite liked the feel of Harry Potter's hand in his own and didn't say anything to make him drop it.

They walked in silence until they reached the gargoyle statue that would take them to Dumbledore's office, then suddenly Harry let out a frustrated curse. "I absolutely hate that git," he told Neville, jerking his head in the direction they'd just come from. "I bet he knew that you were just defending your parents, and he didn't care. Asshole." Unable to help himself, Neville gave a small laugh, and Harry glanced at him, a small half-smile on his face. "What?" he asked, and Neville shook his head.

"Did you really expect anything less from Snape?" he asked, and Harry let out a laugh of his own.

"No, I guess not," he answered. "It just isn't fair that Malfoy wont even get in trouble, when he's the one who started it."

Neville, forgetting himself for a moment, gave Harry's hand a small squeeze, which of course made Harry pull it back with a slight gasp. Neville felt himself blush and looked away hurriedly, but not before he saw that a similar blush had stained Harry's cheeks as well.

Seeing that blush more than anything else gave Neville the courage to ask, "Harry, was Malfoy right? Are you being nice to me now because of my parents?" Neville tried not to show it, but he was dreading Harry's answer, feeling that the only reason the other Gryffindor would be nice to him when he had his own friends was because of Neville's parents, and Neville really, really didn't want it to be the reason; something he was just realizing now. Somehow, between the quiet conversations at night and the friendliness of the day, Neville had grown to--well, to love Harry, and he'd unconsciously been hoping that the green-eyed boy felt the same. Now though, as Harry simply stared at him, Neville felt that hope crashing around his feet and found himself wishing that he'd never said anything.

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted, to Neville's great relief. "Ah, there you are, boys," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling as usual behind his half-moon spectacles, "I was wondering how long it would take you to get here. Come inside," he offered, going into his office and gesturing for the two to follow him. When they got inside, Neville gave a small gasp of awe. He had never been inside the Headmaster's office before, and he took in everything with eager eyes. He especially liked the portraits on the wall, which eyed him with just as much curiosity as he was eyeing them.

Harry barely paid attention to the portraits, though. Instead he turned to Dumbledore and said, "It wasn't Neville's fault, it was Malfoy's. Malfoy made a comment about his parents, and--"

"Relax, my boy," Dumbledore said serenely. "I know very well what happened. Severus took the liberty of informing me before you came. Lemon drop?" he asked, holding a bowl full of said candies out to the boys. Harry took one, but Neville shook his head, still a little intimidated of the Headmaster despite his easy manner. He had, after all, broken Malfoy's jaw. Surely he would be in serious trouble, no matter how Malfoy had provoked him. Dumbledore, seeming to sense this, smiled kindly down at Neville. "Don't worry, Mr. Longbottom, I have no intention of punishing you...though I do ask that in the future, you try to keep a cool head around Mr. Malfoy. I understand that many of the things he says are offensive, but I'm sure that Poppy would be severely upset if she had to deal with him on a regular basis."

Neville gaped at the Headmaster, while Harry grinned. Dumbledore gave both boys another smile before moving to his desk and sitting behind it. "Well, I suppose that settles it, except for one thing. How many points did Severus take this time?"

"One hundred and twenty," Harry replied, grinning more broadly than ever.

Dumbledore nodded. "Well, that'll be fifty from Slytherin for Mr. Malfoy's part in the fight and fifty to Gryffindor," he said, then gave a small chuckle as Harry's face fell. "Remember, Mr. Longbottom did break Mr. Malfoy's jaw, and you were rather rude to Severus," he told the frowning boy. "I don't care what reasons you had for being so. Bear in mind that he is still your elder and your professor, and as such he deserves some respect." That said, Dumbledore gave his attention to the papers in front of him, saying only, "It seems you both now have a free period. I dare say you'll find something to do." before immersing himself fully.

Neville followed Harry out of the Headmaster's office, still slightly dazed. He couldn't believe that he didn't get in any trouble. He knew his Gran would still be notified, as was procedure, and that he would probably receive a Howler within a few days, but right now that didn't seem to matter. Right now he was realizing that he hadn't received detention or lost too many points for his House. Right now he had a free period where he would have once had Potions, would have Potions again, but for now was gloriously Snape-free. Right now Harry Potter was looking at him with an odd sort of gleam in his eyes and a blush on his cheeks, and Neville had never found anything in the world quite so beautiful.

"Neville?" Harry said, and Neville smiled brilliantly at him. Harry smiled back quickly, but the smile faded into a look of nervousness that made Neville's heart rate speed up, for some odd reason. "Neville, I-I just want you to know that I wasn't being nice to you because of your parents," Harry said in a rush, and Neville grinned.

"Really?" he asked, and Harry nodded, looking down at the floor and scuffing his toe on the ground.

"I'm nice to you because, well..." Harry trailed off, and Neville gave him an expectant look.

"Yeah?" he prompted, and Harry bit his bottom lip uncertainly before darting forward, cutting off Neville's small cry of surprise by brushing his mouth lightly against the other boy's. Quick as Harry's lips touched Neville's he pulled back, blushing harder than ever. Neville gave a small "Oh" of surprise before he felt his lips forming the widest smile he'd worn in his life.

Harry smiled tentatively back and said, "So...is that okay?"

Neville laughed and touched his mouth to Harry's again, whispering, "It's more than okay," against the other boy's lips and delighting in the small shiver of response. For a moment, Neville found his mind wandering to the Howler he was sure to receive when his Gran found out this piece of news. Then their hands were intertwined and Harry was kissing him again, and Neville decided that he didn't care how many Howlers his Gran sent, Harry was his and that was all that mattered.