Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I'm not making any money off this.
A/N: This isn't properly British.
Christmas morning is a scary time to be in the Great Hall. The normal array of raining letters and papers is interspersed with packages, some small and some large, and all heavy when dropped from a high enough owl.
Neville just barely manages to dodge his own gift—a heavily-wrapped green box with silver ribbon and a luminescent bow. Not exactly Gran's normal choice of packaging. ...Not that Gran often sends him gifts at all...
That just leaves one person. The only person with too much pride to just give it to him in person, lest anybody see. Neville slips the sizeable cube into his lap and begins to peel away the paper half-hidden by the table, just in case it's a trap. Not that anyone else would witness his embarrassment if it turns out to be a lump of coal with a little 'haha' card—Seamus is fervently ripping apart a gift-that's-clearly-socks on his left, and Ron is practically choking himself on a plate of pudding to his right.
Inside the wrapping is a sleek, wooden box. Neville glances over at the Slytherin table before proceeding, just in case, and is reassured when all he finds is a small smile. Well, his wand is in his pocket, anyway. Neville always has it with him now. Just in case eighth year turns out to be anything like the last seven.
As soon as he lifts the wooden lid, Neville knows what it is. The earthy scent wafts out, and he carefully retracts the Mimbulus Mimbletonia, in all its green, spiked glory.
He sets the potted plant on the table and fondly watches it squirm. It's a small little thing with only a few tiny bumps, but Neville will grow it out. Just like he grew out his last one.
There's a little card inside that reads, 'Sorry I destroyed your last one.'
Neville smiles back around at the Slytherin table, where Draco meets his eye with a faint smirk. Not a humble apology, but an apology. Neville will take it. He muses on how times have changed as he climbs out of his seat, determined to hand-deliver his own red-and-gold wrapped package.