A/N: Another fun little story, written for the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenge. It was great fun, and you should check it out!
"There you are, Neville." says Theodore, and there's a drawl to his voice that no longer sets the Gryffindor boy on edge. It's just a part of Theodore, something that has been bred into him from the very first word that he could speak.
Pausing in his garden-work, Neville looks up at the other man. For a moment, surprise is all that's on his face, because it's still part of the school year and Theodore has a job of his own. Then a large, gleeful grin splits out and he stands up, wrapping large arms around the slender man and pulling him into a hug.
As always, Theodore idly notes that Neville smells of earth and sweat and confidence.
"Detention, again?" wailed Neville, distraught. He let his head droop, eyes closing when he did.
Ron patted him on the back and clucked his tongue. "Sorry, mate. I guess that's what you get for not studying, right?"
Neville frowned, biting his lower lip slightly. He didn't argue with the red-head (mostly because Ron had already wandered off, over to meet Harry and Hermione at the entrance to the common room) even if the other was so very, very wrong. Ron may not have studied for that Potions exam, but he had. All week, actually.
Just like always, it hadn't helped. Snape entered the room and Neville's mind went blank, everything that he had learnt on the Dripping Drought gone from his mind. Like a magic spell gone wrong. Which, of course, had ended in him melting his cauldron, the floor of the classroom, and the hem of Snape's robe.
Personally, Neville felt that he was lucky just to get detention and not to have been killed, right then and there. Granted, there was always that possibility later in the night.
"What are you doing here?" asks Neville, pulling back slightly. He lets his arms drape over the slender mans shoulders, a slight grin on his face. They're still very close together, chests almost touching, breath mingling.
Theodore raises an eyebrow and cocks his head to the side, tawny bangs falling out of his eyes when he does. "What? Aren't you happy to see me?"
"Of course I am!" answers Neville, and he leans in for a chaste kiss, his sun-worn lips pressing against Theordore's potion smooth ones. When he pulls away, both eyes have crinkled into a smile, pulling the scarred flesh around his left eye into something that it couldn't do just the year before. "That doesn't make me any less confused though."
Detention was served in the dungeons, as they often were. Neville arrived at exactly seven o'clock at night, and then he stopped outside of the Potions Classroom. He stood there for what seemed like several long moments but was really only a few seconds, shuffling his feet and generally just being uncomfortable. Eventually, he mustered up the courage to open the door and slip into the classroom.
He managed to get all the way to his usual seat, picked curtousy of Snape, right at the front of the class, before he realized that the room was completely empty. The potionsmaster was no where in sight - and, for a moment, that sent a surge of joy through him.
A detention for Potions without Snape. It was a miracle.
Then he caught sight of the blackboard and his stomach dropped. In the small, cursive writing that Snape was known for, a note had been left. It was short and to the point, informing him that a tutor would be arriving for Neville at half past eight. He was to wait until then, and return to the Potions room every night for the next two weeks for another session.
"It's simple, dear." says Theodore, stepping back so the larger mans arms slip off his shoulders. "I needed some herbs for work and there's no where better to go than here."
Neville flushes slightly - because after all these years, it's still amazing to hear Theodore praise his work. Then he nods and tries to straighten up some, pointlessly brushing the bits of soil off the front of his robes. "Work, of course. What is it you need?"
Theodore doesn't answer right away, choosing instead to walk about the Greenhouse. It's a small one, with mild-mannered plants filling almost every inch of it. The glass roof was jinxed so that the same amount of sun always came through, and every plant was thriving. But then, they always did when Neville was around. Everything thrived.
He trailed one hand along an oblong pot, pale fingers trailing in the dirt. It was soft and moist, which meant it was just watered recently. "I need some Shrieking Sea Root."
The detentions, it turned out, would be served with a Slytherin. A lanky boy by the name of Theodore Nott that Neville had only spoken to once or twice before. The first few sessions were abysmal - because he was just as nervous around Thomas as he was around Draco or Goyle or Crabbe.
As time passed, however, things started to change. Neville became more comfortable; and that meant he could function better and breath better and work better, reciting off recipes for the potions like he was a pro, stating the words from memory because how many times had he read those books? Theodore started to relax; which meant that he spoke more, away from the other Slytherins; away from expectations that he didn't care about but still ruled his life; pleasently surprised when it was proven that he could hold an actual conversation with Neville without getting bored.
Eventually, they began to speak outside of their sessions - which they continued on in private, even after Neville's detention was over. Just small things. A wave here, a smile there, a good morning when they passed each other in the halls.
Then, they grew braver.
They sat next to each other at lunch, either out in the grounds or over at the Slytherin table. They were oddly accepting of the strange friendship, Neville realized, where as the Gryffindors grew hostile and distant, the few friends that he had managed to make slipping away through his fingers.
It didn't bother him as much as it should have.
"Shrieking Sea Root?" repeats Neville, and he clearly doesn't get it because, while Theodore smirks, he just gives a slight nod. There's some of that here, of course, in the very back of his greenhouse. Always kept on hand, just in case.
It's a prime ingrediant in healing salves of all sorts, though it's most often used for severe burns. The algae-like property of its roots gives off a mint like scent and helps regenerate skin cells, which makes it a very popular choice for healers and potions masters alike.
He makes it all the way to the back of the greenhouse before it clicks in his mind as to what's going on. Then his face turns a true shade of scarlet.
To both of their surprise, it's Neville that really starts their relationship. Looking back on it from years later, he won't be able to say where he got the courage from. Mostly because it had nothing to do with courage and everything to do with fear - that Theodore would find someone else, that he would get bored just talking, that Neville would be alone again.
So, when they're hunched over a potions book one day, conversation on the different properties of the Shrieking Sea Root, Neville stopped thinking. Panic built up in his chest when he turned to face the gangly Slytherin sitting beside him, and for a moment his dark eyes watched Theodore's lips move.
"Neville?" asked Theodore, a slight look of annoyance crossing his face. "Are you listening to me?"
Neville didn't answer. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Theodore's.
"Happy anniversary, Nev-dear." whispers Theodore, and he's suddenly pressing up against Neville's back, mouth burried in the thick fabric of his cloak. The scent of earth and soil is almost cloying, but it's so very right.