A/N: I'm having a slight writer's block at the moment, and I'm a bit overwhelmed with work. I decided to write a one-shot with a pairing I've only just come across: Harry/Neville. In this one-shot, I've decided to do a 'Harry unintentionally travels into the future' cliché, just because clichés are easy to write and I don't have to think to hard. I just need a break from the stress I'm under and this is an easy way out. Thank goodness for Harry Potter! Anyway, I really hope that you enjoy it.
By the way, I'm not going to be too accurate about days of the week. I've been very accurate with years, but it's all too confusing to deal with dates and specific dates in particular.
Warnings: nothing much, slash is the main one. Don't read if you don't want to read boy/boy pairing. Nothing too sexual, just kisses.
Disclaimer: None of my work belongs to me, it is solely the property of the one and only J.K. Rowling and any other company which has the copyright of Harry Potter, including Warner Bros. Nothing here belongs to me; all the characters are J.K. Rowling's originally, though any new character not part of the Harry Potter series belongs to me.
Title: A Picture not to forget
Author: hpjkrowling4ever
After the defeat of Voldemort, Gryffindor dorm
Harry lay down on his bed after he asked Kreacher for a sandwich. He felt tired, dirty despite his shower and in need of a very long break. He had survived, despite all odds, and had his whole life ahead of him. Just when his thoughts started to overwhelm him, Harry rummaged around in his bedside table and pulled out some parchment and a quill.
I'm alive. I'm alive. I'm alive. I just need something to do, a reason to keep going now. My purpose in life – to destroy Voldemort – has succeeded. What's up next? I might start going out with Ginny next. Do you think she'll want to? Do I really want to again? These are thoughts I didn't think I'd ever be having. Merlin, I wish I knew.
Harry's hand slipped, the quill fell to the floor, and Harry passed out, exhausted, unaware that his words were glowing brightly.
Twelve years in the future
Harry groaned in protest as sunlight hit his eyes and tried to roll over, only to feel a firm, warm body lying next to him. It took Harry a moment to process this information, and when his brain finally computed what his body was registering, Harry had to muffle a cry of horror. His eyes flew open in shock and he quickly sat up, reaching out beside him for his glasses, which were thankfully there. When his eyes adjusted, Harry saw that he was lying in bed next to Neville Longbottom. He was about to open his mouth to ask what sort of sick joke this was when he caught sight of something else in the dim morning light of the room.
They were alone. Harry wasn't in the Gryffindor dorms; far from it, Harry was in a lovely, spacious room with many picture frames and bookcases adorning the walls. Next to the large fireplace were two gorgeous plants which curled up the wall and framed the fireplace. In front of the fireplace were two snug armchairs, one which still had a book lying face down on it. Harry slipped out of the bed very slowly, careful not to wake the man lying next to him. That was when he noticed the next thing. He was tall.
Looking down, Harry first saw that he was naked, and hurriedly pushed away that thought. He'd been thinking about his sexuality for a while, but the Horcrux hunt had pushed everything out of his mind. Then, he realised that not only was he taller, but his shoulders were wider and his hair was quite long. Also quite muscular, he thought, catching sight of a well-defined stomach. He brought his hand up to touch his face when he saw a glint of gold on his finger. He was married. Harry glanced over at Neville again, his thoughts running rings inside his head. The body on the bed moved slightly and there came a moan from Neville's mouth.
"Harry? Why're you up?" Neville asked, pushing himself up into seating position. "No work today, 'member?" he asked gruffly, looking over at Harry, who was quickly trying to school his face into one which less resembled that of a bamboozled goldfish.
"Not used to lying in," Harry answered, trying to come up with something on short notice, having no idea what his life now was like. He had to find Hermione. "Go back to sleep."
"Come back to bed, Harry. The kids'll wake us up in an hour or so anyway."
He had kids? Harry's mind screeched to a stop, and his body, not receiving any further information from his brain, followed Neville's instructions and went back to the bed. Neville moved over and cuddled up to Harry, leaning against the headboard, froze briefly before doing what he thought was most appropriate; he wrapped an arm around Neville's shoulders. Neville sighed happily and closed his eyes again, but not before placing a kiss on the top of Harry's palm. Moving almost like an automaton, Harry leant down and kissed Neville's forehead.
Wondering what he should do next, Harry remembered how he had written things down with a quill just before falling asleep. For the life of him, Harry could not remember what he had written, but the fact that he had written something made Harry think that this Harry he was replacing could have a journal. Without disturbing Neville, Harry opened a drawer in his bedside table and caught sight of a leather bound book and his wand lying next to it. Harry took both out and tried to open the journal before realising it was locked. He tapped his wand on it and it opened.
"Lumos," Harry whispered, shining the wand over the book.
Welcome to the journal of Harry Potter-Longbottom (here the 'Longbottom' had obviously been added to Harry's name, as it was written in a different coloured ink). If you're reading this, you're obviously either me, Nev, or one of the kids because I've charmed this journal to only be receptive to my wand, Nev's or the kids' magic.
What's my job, that I can charm a book to do that, Harry asked himself, turning a page hesitantly. It almost felt like snooping. Harry scolded himself; after all, this was his own journal he was reading.
Good morning,
Well, this is the last time I'm going to be writing to you as a bachelor. After our rather whirlwind romance, Nev and I are finally getting married. Took him ages to propose to me, annoying Herbologist that he is. I had to keep dropping hints to Luna – his co-worker now; did I mention that to you? – until she asked me why I didn't propose. But I've told you all this before. I'm just really, really nervous. I love Nev so very, very much and I am so very happy that I found him before it was too late. Ginny and I would never have worked, despite everything. Thank Merlin she's as understanding as she is; more than that, she's become one of my closest confidantes after Ron and 'Mione. Why am I repeating all this stuff? Argh, my nerves are way too much for me today.
I might as well ramble on about how much I love Nev. You know, I never thought that the rather shy young boy in my dorm would one day turn into the person I love, trust and respect the most in the world. The thing about us is that we balance each other out perfectly. He was the one who recommended I take that apprenticeship in spellmaking and wandlore with Ollivander, and on a much darker note, without Nev, Hogwarts would have succumbed to the darkness of the Carrows and Snape during the war. He's a leader, just like me, but he's a lot calmer, less headstrong. He's more willing to talk things through and he can calm me down with just a look. Merlin, I sound like Lavender!
Anyway, I'll write again when I'm a married man – though, knowing Nev, if he's any good at distracting me, I won't be writing for a while.
Indeed you won't, Harry thought wryly, looking at the date – 22nd August 2000 – because this Harry only wrote in September, after a rather lovely honeymoon, if Harry's passionate words were anything to go by. Harry flicked through a few more pages to towards the end of the journal (which seems to add pages by itself, because now that he thought about it, the journal seemed rather large) and saw that he must be about 30 years old. The last entry went as follows:
Thank Merlin Ollivander gave the weekend off. I'm shattered. Nev's been telling me that I look like a ghost come back to life, and I think he must have talked to Ollivander about giving me the weekend (and Monday) off. I can't thank my husband enough. Knowing my internal alarm clock, though, I'll probably wake up at some obscene hour of the morning again. Ah well, I can always look over my earlier notes in the journal about the stuff Ollivander's taught me, so that I don't suddenly go soft and make Ollivander regret that he's mentoring me.
At this, Harry went back a few pages, to where the writing was glowing gold, and hurriedly read through that. It gave him some idea of what this Harry did, as well as a few handy spells this Harry had invented, how he had invented them, and how to manipulate magic and words. Harry, having learnt to take in information quickly, in case of a life or death circumstance, was never more grateful for his gift, and for his counterpart's orderliness, and tried to take in what was obviously years' worth of teaching in a few minutes. He glanced back down at the sleeping man beside him, who hadn't moved an inch, but had his arm spread across Harry's thighs and his head right next to Harry's waist.
The sight of this shy young man (for Harry had still to reconcile the rather good-looking man lying next to him to the humble young man he had just left behind) who had metamorphosed into one of the symbols of the Light Side leaning into him trustingly, gave Harry a warm, tingly feeling he didn't want to analyse too much. Instead, he basked in it and instinctively threaded his hand through his husband's hair. Merlin, that was odd, Harry thought, turning back to his counterpart's journal.
I'll be able to spend a fully weekend with Albert, whose seventh birthday it is on Sunday (remember: gifts are underneath our bed, Nev always forgets and so will I unless I write it down), Lily-bug and Mike. How long has it been since I've done that? I wonder what my younger self would have thought of me if he saw me now: a happy, rather overworked family man, soon-to-be co-partner at Ollivander's, and doting father of three (if a bit harried; it won't be too soon that Lily turns six, she's already jealous that Mike's fourth has passed and Al's seventh is on Sunday). I'll make sure that we play a mock Seeker's game together so that she feels less left out. I think that my younger self would be shocked, and if he's anything like what I remember I was like, then…well…he'll deal with it and dive right in and hopefully enjoy himself. I'd give him a glimpse of it if I could, just so that he knew that it was going to be okay and the war wasn't the end of everything. After all, Nev's still alive and kicking then, and he'll be there for me. If he's not, then I'd give him a kick in the right direction if I could.
Enough reminiscing, Harry. Your husband's coming home soon and if he's grouchy as he usually is on a Friday, then a massage will be in order (which, as always, will extend into a massage for the whole family and then cuddling in front of the fire in our room. I do love my life.)
Harry had no doubt that those reminiscent words that this Harry had written were exactly what triggered this change, in conjunction with whatever Harry himself had written on that spare piece of parchment. When I get back into my time, Harry thought, I'm going to write a journal like this to avoid any situation like this ever again, because if this Harry is in my body, he's going to be damn confused when he wakes up. Hopefully he'll know what to do. A secret part of Harry longed for this Harry to do exactly what he'd threatened to do – push Neville in the right direction. This relationship being described in the journal sounded like something out of a dream, something that Harry had never let himself dream up before.
He put the journal back in the drawer, slid his wand in again and after hesitating for a moment, put his glasses back on the bedside table. If he was stuck in this for a while, then he might as well make the most of it. He sank back down in the bed, noticing how comfortable it was, and Neville, after making a protesting sound, pulled himself closer to Harry, until their legs were entwined and Harry could feel almost the whole length of his husband's body pressed up against his. It was slightly uncomfortable – for Harry had never slept this close to a man before, only ever with Hermione – but Harry decided to scrap that. If his counterpart obviously enjoyed it so much, then Harry might as well try to do the same.
At least I know the names of my kids, and their ages. I'd look like a fool if I didn't know that.
Harry was woken up again by something rather large and heavy jumping onto the bed. He almost reached for his wand when he remembered everything that had happened earlier on, sighed and peeled open his eyes. Neville, still wrapped around Harry, did the same. Harry caught sight of a dark blue blur, before it jumped in between both of the older men (if Harry could call himself older, when he wasn't really the right person) and snuggled up to Harry, who felt the tingle of wandless magic as Neville Conjured a pair of boxers onto them. Automatically, Harry wrapped his arms around the wriggling body.
"Al, if you don't stop wriggling, Dad and I are going to have to kick you out," Neville's warm, sleepy voice teased. The wriggling stopped immediately, and the small body curled into Harry. Neville joined Harry in wrapping his arms around the child, and kissed his forehead.
"Why are you up so early, squirt?" Neville asked. Harry blindly went for his glasses and shoved them onto his face. His eyes focused somewhat on the figure dressed in what he could now see were dark blue pyjamas with little green plants on them.
"I 'membered that Daddy wasn't working today and wanted to cuddle for a bit, before Lily and Mike have to get up prop'ly." Albert answered, his voice just on the verge of not being childish. Harry's heart went out to the boy, and he squeezed him tighter.
"Love you, bud," he whispered, not sure if that was the right thing to say, but it seemed like something he would have said if faced with a declaration like that. He remembered Teddy, and briefly wondered where the young boy was. He'd be twelve now, if this was 2010. His counterpart hadn't mentioned him, but that didn't mean that Teddy was non-existent.
"Love you too, Daddy," Albert replied, giving Harry a rather slobbery kiss on the cheek. Neville looked across at Harry with something resembling parental pride, and a great deal of love in his eyes. It was almost an automatic response to the love in those eyes that Harry leant forward and kissed Neville's lips gently.
It was nothing like one of Ginny's kisses. This one had a hint more stubble to it, and a bit stronger, and rougher, but it seemed to convey more raw emotion than one of Ginny's kisses ever could, and he suddenly, with startling clarity, seemed to understand exactly why his counterpart was gay, and why he might just be gay as well.
"Eurgh, stop it, Papa, Daddy!" Albert's cries of protest reached Harry and Neville in the fog of their kiss.
"Sorry, squirt," Neville said easily, sharing a long-suffering look with Harry that Harry only just managed to pull off.
"Papa, can Teddy come over today? It's my birthday tomorrow, please can he come over today?" Albert asked suddenly.
"Al, you know that Ted likes to spend the weekends with his gran. He lives with us pretty much all week."
"But he's never here! He's always at Hogwarts." Albert complained. "And that's not true, Papa, Teddy doesn't spend the weekends all the time with his gran 'cos he's at Hogwarts most of the time. There!" Albert said triumphantly. Neville Eskimo kissed him and chuckled deeply.
"He's on his half-term break now, but he'll be here for your birthday."
"You promise, Dad, Papa?" Albert asked, looking at them both.
"We promise, bud," Harry answered steadily. Their bedroom door squeaked and Harry and Neville both turned around to see what the cause of the noise was. Harry almost died at the sheer sweetness he was faced with when he looked at the doorway.
A young girl of almost six, if this Harry's journal was anything to go by, stood in the doorway, holding the hand of a boy with a mop of dark brown hair, who was holding a plush toy elephant in the other hand. The girl looked more mature than her age, and had black hair like Albert. What amazed Harry the most was that she had Harry's eyes – which, Harry presumed, was why she was called Lily. Harry wondered how this child was biologically his, and if there was a potion which allowed this feat. Looking down at Albert, he figured there probably was. That unruly black hair was obviously genetic, but Albert's eyes looked very much like Neville's. Again, Harry wondered how that was possible.
"Can we come an' cuddle with you?" the girl asked in a lovely lilting voice, if a bit high-pitched. Like he had with Albert, Harry fell in love almost immediately with his older self's daughter.
"Sure, sweetheart," Neville said, already getting out of bed and picking up the little boy and holding Lily's hand. Harry took a moment to really appreciate how wonderfully fit Neville Longbottom had become, before Lily jumped onto the bed and started burrowing into the blankets beside Albert, who frowned at her.
"I'm the one cuddling with Daddy!" Albert said crossly, a petulant look on his face. Lily looked hurt for a moment, before an equally petulant look appeared on her face.
"He's my Daddy too!" Lily answered, sticking out her tongue. Harry, making an executive decision, put his hand in between the squabbling children. Both of them looked up at him and he raised an eyebrow in what he hoped was a very unimpressed look on his face.
"Don't you both think that I'd like to cuddle with both of you?" Harry asked them. Neville, who was back on the bed and had Mike sitting on his lap, chuckled.
"Sorry, Daddy," Lily said contritely.
"Yeah, sorry, Daddy," Albert murmured, and then he looked worriedly up at Harry. "You still love me lots, don't you?"
"I love both of you lots, buddy." Harry answered diplomatically, and stretched out a hand for Lily, who clambered up to sit on his stomach. She leant forwards and kissed Harry's forehead before laying out her body so that she was lying completely on top of Harry. Albert pressed himself closer to him. Harry looked back at Neville, who was looking at the picture they made with a rather adoring look on his face. Harry let an answering smile creep up, which stretched even wider when Neville leant into his bedside table and pulled out a camera, with which he snapped a photo of Harry being cuddled within an inch of his life by his kids.
Neville slipped back into the bed with Mike, who smiled widely when he caught sight of Harry. Harry kissed his fingertips and stretched them out to Mike, who grabbed them and proceeded to kiss them.
"What do you guys feel up to doing today, hmm?" Neville asked. "Dad's here all weekend, and so am I, so we're at your disposal."
Lily giggled into Harry's neck and sat up, almost jabbing her elbow into Harry's stomach. With the one hand that wasn't wrapped around Albert, Harry held onto the little girl's waist to steady her.
"You work here, Pa, it's not the same as when Daddy's home all day!" Lily said. Albert pulled away and sat up underneath the covers.
"Yeah, you have your plants in the lab downstairs and in the separate garden outside." Albert said, nodding along with his sister. Harry wondered just how big their house was, and where they lived. He would consult his counterpart's journal later. There had to be something in there about buying a new house.
"It's starting to sound like you love you Dad more than me." Neville teased, stretching forward to tickle Albert, who shrieked and writhed around on the bed. Lily gave a shout and almost jumped off Harry in her haste to join in. Neville caught Harry's eye and passed Mike over, who happily went to Harry and starting tugging on Harry's hair, which only now Harry realised was quite long. Then, Neville, Lily and Albert engaged in a full-out tickle war, which ended up with Neville being pinned down by both of the giggling children.
"I surrender! I surrender, you rascals!" Neville cried out pathetically, smiling widely. Both children cried out triumphantly and proceeded to hug Neville tightly, telling him how much they loved him. That warm, tingly feeling came back in Harry's chest as he saw how wonderfully happy the children, and Neville – and obviously himself, if the journal was anything to go by – were.
"Okay, soldiers!" Neville said, clapping his hands together when he had pushed off the two oldest children. "Daddy and I are going to get changed. Al, Lils, I want you both to get washed, dressed and changed." There were identical groans from the two. Neville held up a finger to stop the imminent protests. "And then I'm going to make pancakes for everyone." Lily and Albert gave joyful cried and raced out of the room. Neville shuffled back along the bed to Mike and Harry, who were sitting up in the middle of the bed, and wrapped one arm around Harry's waist and let the other kiss Mike's forehead.
"Papa, wha' should I do?" Mike asked timidly. He was obviously quite a quiet child, and seemed to bring out every protective instinct that Harry had ever felt to the fore. They were slightly overwhelming, but one look at Neville told Harry that he wasn't the only one who felt them.
"You, my little monster, can go back to your room and play for a bit, then Daddy and I will come and get you for breakfast." Neville ruffled his youngest's hair. Harry kissed the small forehead and received a wide smile in return.
"'Kay Papa. Can you put me down, Daddy?" Mike asked, and Harry climbed off the bed, keeping a strong hold of the little boy, and placed him on the floor beside the door. Mike walked out unsteadily.
"Merlin, I always forget he's four at times like these. I just want to wrap him in cotton wool and make sure that he never, ever gets hurt." Neville observed, coming to stand behind Harry.
"I know, I feel exactly the same." Harry replied truthfully, a bit nervous that now it was only himself and Neville in the room.
"It's just…you know, after he got that bad fever when he was a baby that's left him a bit shorter than he should be, I'm terrified that we're going to lose him." Neville shivered behind him and Harry turned around, not thinking as he pulled the slightly taller man into his arms. Neville replied in kind, pressing his head in the crook of Harry's neck and breathing deeply.
"Hey, don't worry. We're both here, and he's here, and we all got through it, as you can see. We'll be fine; he'll be fine." Harry said reassuringly, coming forward to kiss the top of Neville's head. Neville tightened his grip before looking Harry in the eye.
"When did I get so lucky to snatch a wonderful husband like you?" Neville asked rhetorically, before leaning forward and kissing Harry fiercely on the mouth.
It was nothing like their earlier kiss. Sure, the passion was still there, but a lot more forceful, and it took Harry a moment to really get into it. When he did, his arms seemed to instinctually twine themselves around Neville's neck, just as Neville's arms pulled Harry's body so that it was flush against his. Their boxers seemed to vanish into thin air, and Harry went bright red at the thought of how they must look: naked, pressed up against each other, and kissing fiercely. Then, he tossed his inner head and told himself to just get on with it. Neville and his counterpart were obviously a very touchy-feely couple.
They pulled away after a moment, both breathing heavily. Neville's eyes were dark with lust and he looked like all he wanted to do was crawl back into the four-poster bed with Harry again.
"If the kids weren't expecting us soon, I'd go back to bed with you and have my wicked way." Neville said hoarsely. Harry only nodded, still breathless after the passion of the kiss. If there had been any lingering doubts about his sexuality, they had just been blown to dust, well and truly shot to pieces.
"I'll go to the bathroom first, join me when you've got your stuff." Neville said, pulling away and grabbing some clothes from one of the chest of drawers. He hurried to the bathroom, leaving Harry still recovering near the doorway. Shaking his head, Harry opened one of the drawers randomly, and started opening other drawers, just to see what was his. He eventually found something that looked very similar to what he would normally wear, and grabbed that, going into the bathroom as Neville had told him to.
His husband – Merlin, that still feels odd to think, Harry mused – was standing in front of a large, ornate mirror, brushing his teeth. He was still naked, and Harry paused to properly observe the man. Neville's job seemed to keep him quite fit, and he had certainly outgrown all the chubbiness of his youth. He was tall, but not too much so, and had short hair, unlike Harry's, which seemed to go down to his shoulders. Harry caught sight of a hairbrush and a few hair ties and assumed that this Harry wore his hair in a ponytail.
Harry took the other toothbrush, borrowed Neville's toothpaste, which seemed to actually be the only one in the bathroom, and started brushing his teeth as well. Neville finished with his teeth, and started shaving. Harry was almost surprised by the deep companionship he felt between them, and the easy familiarity with which Neville moved around Harry in the bathroom.
"What should we do today, do you think?" Neville asked. "It's not everyday you're here with us for a full weekend."
"Is everyone just dropping hints for me to ask Ollivander for more time off?" Harry asked teasingly. Neville chuckled and rinsed his face, before standing behind Harry, wrapping his arms around his waist and leaning his chin on Harry's shoulder. Harry leant back into Neville's embrace.
"We miss you, love." Neville murmured, moving his mouth up to Harry's ear. Harry shivered as Neville's breath blew across his earlobe. "I don't like waking up to a cold bed in the morning and the kids want their dad to see them off to school."
"I love that you care so much, Nev," the nickname slipped out almost unconsciously, "I just want to prove to Ollivander that I'm good enough, you know?"
Neville kissed his neck and looked into Harry's eyes in the mirror with a strange intensity.
"And I think you've done that many times over, love, otherwise Ollivander wouldn't have given you the weekend and Monday off. He may be trying to make a point."
Harry turned around and kissed Neville lightly on the lips. Neville pressed their foreheads together and smiled very gently.
"You're very loved, do you know that, Harry?" Neville whispered.
"I do." Harry answered back equally softly.
The next big test came just after breakfast, when Hermione came to visit. It seemed to be an impromptu visit, because no one had mentioned her coming over. Harry had just been marvelling at the sheer size of the house, when the Floo flared to life and the curious cries of the children reached Harry's ears and Lily and Albert tumbled down the stairs. Neville had gone upstairs to help Mike get changed, so Harry was left to greet whoever had come through.
"Ah, Harry, there you are!" Hermione said briskly, fending off the questions of the two children with ease that told Harry that she probably had her own children. "I've got the book on Time Spells that you were asking about. They were terribly difficult to get hold of, and I had to persuade my colleagues that I wasn't about to become an evil Time Lord and change history."
"Thanks, Hermione, you're wonderful." Harry said, taking the book from Hermione. He had no idea what to do with it, so placed it carefully on top of one of the taller bookcases. "Would you like some tea?"
"That would be wonderful, would you?" Hermione asked, already bending down to talk to Lily and Albert, who had finally grabbed her attention.
Harry went into the kitchen, filled up the kettle and rummaged around a bit before he found the teabag cupboard and some mugs in the cupboard beside it. A stray thought hit him: what tea did Hermione like, and would she be expecting Harry to have some?
"Anything in particular you're hankering for, Hermione?" he called out. Hermione came into the kitchen and raised an eyebrow.
"It's almost as if you already know." Hermione said mischievously.
"Know what?" Harry asked blankly. "What do you mean?"
"You boys are all exactly the same." Hermione shook her head in despair. "I'll have some of that wonderful ginger and lemon that Neville makes." Harry found the teabag and plopped it into a mug. He caught sight of a cluster of teabags in a box labelled 'Daddy's tea' and took a teabag from there.
"It's almost as if you take advantage of the fact I'm married to someone who makes his own tea." Harry teased, while also trying to put out feelers. Who was Hermione married to? Was it Ron, or someone else?
"My husband is incapable of inventing his own concoctions like yours does. Don't flaunt it in my face." Hermione said, putting on an affected voice. Harry chuckled, and poured the water into the mugs, and went to sit down opposite Hermione.
"So what's this thing I seem to already be aware of?" Harry asked, blowing on the mug. Hermione raised an eyebrow at him and for a heart stopping moment, Harry thought that he'd said something wrong and given himself away.
"Ollivander's done wonders for your memory, my friend." Hermione said. "I'm pregnant, but don't tell Ron. He's already amazed that he has one child, let alone another one. Though he dotes on Rose ridiculously. A younger sibling will do them both some good."
"All parents dote on their children," Harry said wisely, sipping at the tea. His eyes widened; the taste of the tea was absolutely divine. He wondered what was in it and decided to investigate a bit later.
"You and Neville adore Michael." Hermione said shrewdly. "He's your little baby."
"Everyone here dotes on Mike," Harry replied, remembering how the two older siblings had clapped when Mike walked all the way down the stairs without help from either of his parents, and they had given him loads of encouragement when he had to drink two potions at breakfast. Harry had worked out that whatever disease Mike had had left him lacking some vital nutrients in his body and a bit underdeveloped. His speaking capacities were fine, but he was quiet and shy. Lily and Albert always became completely silent and gave Mike their full attention whenever he spoke, and when he'd tried to get down from his chair, Albert had hurried over to help him in case he fell.
"None of you really got over his fever, not even Lily and Al." Hermione said softly. "I remember; it was like a nightmare. Night after night, you and Neville taking turns at the hospital. I didn't know if your marriage would make it. Both of you, on such short straws, stressed, desperate for Mike to keep living. The best Healers were on your case."
"We made it, all of us." Harry whispered, horrified at what Hermione was describing. "I know it was horrific, but we try hard to make sure that any vestiges of it are banished away. We don't ever want a scare like that again."
"You're both such amazing parents, Harry. Sometimes I envy you." Hermione said. "I always feel so guilty saying that, because I love you both so much, and you're both such bricks, such anchors in our lives. Even when Mike was ill and everyone thought that your marriage would disintegrate, you and Neville kept going and kept everyone up, smiling when no one else was and hugging each other when it all got too much. I love Ron to bits, and he's the best husband I'd ever wish to have, but sometimes I want that easy, loving companionship you have."
Harry felt the envy in Hermione's voice and he went warm with the way she was describing his and Neville's relationship. He had certainly felt some of it, earlier, and he wanted to feel it forevermore. They'd obviously gone through hell and back again, and their marriage was stronger for it. Harry knew then that he could answer Hermione's words with complete honesty, not even needing any prior knowledge of this world. She sounded so very much like her vulnerable, seventeen-year-old self, the one Harry had hugged and loved so much like a sister, that it was easy to answer her musing.
"Neville and I are well suited for each other," Harry said, taking her hand. "You'd hate it the way we have it here; you always want a challenge, something to get your blood moving."
"So do you," Hermione pointed out. Harry shook his head, like a dog trying to get water out of his ears.
"No, not the way you want it. I don't want conflict in my family, I want balance. Neville and I give each other that stability. You love your arguments with Ron; it's part of your relationship. It challenges you to see things differently. The number of times you've come to me with something Ron's said, wanting it to either be refuted or concerned, and you come out of the arguments with new ideas, new thoughts. Ron's the source of your inspiration and you work so well together. He comes up with quick, strategic plans and he's as loyal as anything, and you're more someone who likes thinking things through very carefully. But you both complement each other so well."
Hermione gave a watery smile and squeezed Harry's hand.
"You always know exactly what to say to make me feel better." Hermione said. "You always have; you're like the brother I never really had."
At that moment, Neville came into the room and smiled widely when he saw Hermione. He sniffed the air and looked questioningly at her. Hermione laughed gleefully and turned triumphantly towards Harry.
"Neville guessed it!" she crowed. Harry looked over at his husband in confusion.
"That's only because you've only ever drunk that tea once, and that was when you were pregnant with Rose. Otherwise, it's English Breakfast for you." Neville said. Harry's eyes widened and he looked over at Hermione incredulously.
"How did you guess when I didn't?" Harry asked incredulously. Neville walked over to him and wrapped his arm across Harry's shoulders and kissed the top of his head.
"Completely useless, my husband is." Neville said, smiling brightly.
"Where'd you drop Mike off?" Harry asked, not seeing the little boy anywhere. His heart started beating faster as he remembered Hermione's words.
"Hey, what's up?" Neville asked gently. "I can feel your heart beating miles an hour. Mike's fine, he's upstairs with Lily and Albert, trying to build a house of cards."
"That'd be my fault," Hermione said sheepishly. Neville looked at her questioningly. "I was feeling a bit wobbly and started talking about Mike's illness to Harry. I always forget how he gets after talking about it."
Neville squeezed Harry tightly and kissed his forehead again.
"He's okay, you've nothing to worry about. The kids have decided that they want to play Quidditch in the backyard with you."
"I'll leave you to it, then. See you at Al's birthday tomorrow!" Hermione called as she headed out of the kitchen.
"Congratulations!" Neville and Harry called after her, before laughing together. Once they heard the Floo flare, Neville dropped to the floor beside Harry and started massaging his husband's knee. Harry was surprised at the intimacy of the moment and put his hand on top of Neville's to still it. Neville intertwined their fingers together.
"My turn to comfort you now." Neville murmured. "I know it was traumatic, and I know that Mike's on nutrient potions because of it for the rest of his life, but he's here with us and we love him so very, very much."
Harry slid to the floor in front of Neville and kept their hands intertwined and he brought Neville's chin up and they kissed tenderly there. Harry felt all of Neville's feelings for him in that kiss and tried to put everything he had felt since the morning in it as well.
"Come on, let's go and play some Quidditch."
"Nah ah, you're going to play some Quidditch with Lils and Al and Mike and I will watch and cheer." Neville said, smiling at the disgruntled look on Harry's face.
Harry pulled himself up and held out a hand for Neville, who took it as well. Wrapping an arm around Neville's waist, both of them went out of the kitchen. A moment later, Harry's teacup went flying out of the kitchen, not a drop spilling from it, and straight into Harry's palm.
That evening, the whole family sat down in front of the fire in Harry and Neville room. Neville had cast charms on the rug to keep the dust away, and had lain down. Mike was sitting on his stomach; Lily and Albert were both curled into Harry's side, one of Harry's arms wrapped around each of them.
"Dad, can you tell the story of how you felt when I was born?" Albert asked, and Harry's mind went completely blank for a moment and his chest constricted with panic. He had managed to make the whole day without too many blunders, his biggest being forgetting to go cake shopping for Albert. They'd sorted that one out, though.
Harry decided to improvise, putting what he felt about Albert now into words.
"You were the tiniest thing when you were born, Al, you wouldn't believe me if I told you." Harry said, ruffling Albert's hair. Neville chuckled, his chest rumbling with the sound and Mike laughed brightly. "When you were put into my arms, and you smiled at me, I knew there and then that I would do anything rather than ever see you get hurt. You were my first child, and it was such a magical moment. Better than anything I could ever create with my wand, because you were so much more magical than that."
Albert was silent for a few moments, and Harry held his breath. The boy then hugged Harry tightly and buried his head in Harry's shoulder. As best he could with only one arm available, Harry squeezed Albert tightly in return.
"I love you, Daddy." He whispered into Harry's collar. Neville gave a rather sappy smile to Harry.
"I love you too, Al, so very, very much."
There was a warm silence between all of them, which was only broken by the small, soft, childish songs that Albert and Lily hummed quietly. The plants by the fireplace seemed to respond to Neville's magic and swayed lightly.
It was a picture not to forget.
Harry woke up the next morning and looked around his blearily. He was lying back in his bed in the Gryffindor dorms, and he felt a pang of loss for everything he had experience. He glanced over to his bedside table and shoved on his glasses. His eyes widened when he caught sight of a black, leather bound book beside his bed and a quill in it. He rushed to open the book.
Dear Harry,
Wow, that's a bit odd to be writing that. I guess that you've spent a day in my life for a bit, just as I've spent a day in yours. It's taken me years to work out how to do that properly, to enable us to time-travel, and if I'm right, I'm only going to be able to do it once and stop there. So I hope that you made the most of your time in my life, just as I did in yours.
I better tell you why I did this. It's mainly because instead of sorting my sexuality out when I was your age, I went out with Ginny again, which was such a bad idea. I love Gin to bits, as you probably surmised from my journal in my life, but it wouldn't have worked. She had to sort me out and get my head on straight. By then, I was a bit muddled and I stayed with Neville for a bit (Ron and Hermione were unfortunately going through a very lovey-dovey stage and it was a bit of a hazard to stay at theirs). It's history after that and you saw what our marriage is like now.
Now, because I did this, and deliberately interfered with Time, my life might be a bit different from how yours turns out. What I did when I was here was try and avoid as many people as possible, but you're still giving an interview to The Quibbler next weekend and you better tell the whole truth because Xeno Lovegood needs to rebuild his reputation again. I also spent a bit of time with Neville, encouraging him to take up his familial home in Sussex, which is where Longbottom Manor is. We talked a bit about being the person in charge of an Ancient and Noble House and we both decided to go to Gringotts on Thursday to take up our titles – together. That's my interaction with Neville so far.
By the way, that tea you probably had, it's a special concoction that Nev made for me after our wedding. You'll never get to drink it again if you don't marry him, so if that's not incentive enough to get on with it, I don't know what it.
This journal is self-filling and hopefully you'll use it as well as I use mine.
Yours,
Harry
Harry read over everything once again and sat back in his bed, his head reeling from everything that had happened to him over the last twenty-four hours. He got out of bed and slipped on some warm socks and headed down to the Common Room. By his estimation, it was quite early in the morning. He went in, and saw Neville sitting by the fireplace, his head in his hands. The boy was different to the man, but Harry saw the same strong, determined set to the shoulders, and the way Neville's body was morphing into that one. Harry saw deep pain and vulnerability on Neville's face, and felt his heart go out to the boy on that sofa.
"Hey, Nev." Harry said gently. Neville whirled around and looked at Harry. His face relaxed.
"Hey, Harry. How're you doing?" Neville asked. Harry came to sit down beside him.
"I think I should be asking you that question." Harry replied.
"There's too much going on in my head. I can't…all those people, all those lives." Neville's shoulders started shaking. "I see all of their faces when I sleep."
"Do you want to know what helped me, when I was camping with Ron and Hermione?" Harry asked Neville. Neville looked over at him.
"What?"
"Just being with them. Because my two closest friends were still alive, and that meant more than anything in the world to me."
"I don't have very many really close friends, not like you, Ron and Hermione at any rate." Neville whispered. Harry gently put an arm around Neville's shoulders. Neville glanced at him in confusion, but at the look on Harry's face, leant into the embrace.
"Then just relax here for a moment, as best you can. We've made it through the war and we can live our lives for those people who didn't."
"Yeah, yeah we can." Neville whispered, one of his arms going around Harry's waist.
A/N: Do tell me what you thought of it! Should I go any further or is it just perfect the way it is? Full of love and fluff, just what I need!