Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Something New

Chapter Two

Even though Harry knew it was coming, he still wasn't ready for it when Christmas break began, and not just because he'd fallen so far behind on his grading that he didn't know if he'd finish by the end of the school year. It was just so hard to focus on paperwork when he was so tired all the time…

And Christmas, he knew, wasn't going to make it any easier to focus. He was going to be staying at the school, even though Minerva had offered to let him go to whatever festivities his children were having. It had hurt, but he'd turned her down. Lily had made her opinion perfectly clear when she'd told him not to come to her nineteenth birthday, and he didn't think that James or Albus would have a different opinion from their sister.

Neville was staying as well, and so were most of the other professors. The new Potions professor chose not to, but Harry didn't care about him as much. He was a smarmy little shit, anyway.

On the first day with no classes, with nothing much to do besides the grading he couldn't focus on, Harry found himself sitting in his room and thinking. What if he'd just tried harder? Why hadn't he tried harder, anyway? It wasn't that… he'd been able to get off on it, after all. Maybe he should have just kept… going through the motions. If he'd kept trying…

Harry shivered and drew his knees up to his chest, cold in spite of the warmth from the fireplace. He couldn't have. Realistically, he knew that he couldn't have kept doing… that. He didn't like it. It made him feel squirmy inside, disgusting, sick. He'd thrown up several times after engaging in intimacies with Ginny, and she'd never known about it. She'd found out, though, the very last time he'd tried. The night before she'd told him that she thought they should divorce, and ripped his life away from him.

No. That wasn't fair. Ginny was… was just looking out for him, and for herself. She'd been the one with the courage to see that it wasn't working out.

Harry sighed and pushed himself further back into the couch. Some Gryffindor he was. He hadn't even had the courage to end things with his wife when he'd known that he couldn't keep her happy anymore. His lip curled up in disgust with himself.

He heard his portrait talking to him and snapped out of his spiral of depression. "What?" he bit out.

"Neville is here," the portrait said, a bit stiffly. He was a proper thing, Harry had noticed, and didn't respond well when Harry was in one of his worse moods.

"You should tell him to go away, that I'm not good company." Harry knew that he wasn't. He knew that if he tried to talk to Neville, there was a very good chance that he'd say something cruel again. Something that maybe Neville wouldn't be able to forgive. And Neville was…. the only good thing about all of this, the only friendship he had left, now that Ron and Hermione weren't even speaking to him because of the divorce.

There was a moment of silence, and Harry thought that Neville had probably gone away like Harry had suggested. He would remember how bad Harry's temper had been, after all, and probably wouldn't want to risk Harry saying something terrible.

Then the knight reappeared. "Neville suggests that perhaps that means you might need company more than you realize, and seems perfectly content to settle himself on the floor outside of your quarters if you're unwilling to have company right at this very moment."

Harry sighed. Or he hadn't gone away, apparently. "Let him in," he said tiredly. He wasn't dressed, was still in his pajamas, and he hadn't showered or bathed so his hair was as greasy as Snape's had been once upon a time. He really wasn't fit for company, but Neville probably wouldn't leave until he saw that for himself.

Neville entered his living room, a plate of food in hand. "You missed breakfast and lunch," Neville said quietly. "Minerva suggested that perhaps you might prefer to be left alone, but I wasn't about to let you go hungry when there was so much food available."

Harry shook his head. "I'm not hungry." He rarely was in times of stress, and thanks to his time with a Mind Healer, he now knew that he could at least partially blame that on the Dursleys. "But thank you," he added after a moment of silence.

Neville just shrugged. "It won't spoil for waiting," he said, and set it on the coffee table before joining Harry on the couch. "You should at least try to eat something, even if it's just a corner of toast."

"Thanks, Healer Longbottom," Harry said dryly. He closed his eyes and shifted so that he was more curled up, his head resting on the arm of the couch, his feet near Neville.

Neville tugged his feet into his lap, much to Harry's surprise. Part of him wanted to pull back, but the rest of him relished the contact. People didn't… touch him, not anymore. Before he could make up his mind, Neville began to speak. "You know, I could have been a Healer," he said quietly. "I thought about it, but I didn't have the Potions scores. Gran was willing to pay for me to have some private tuition, because she thought it was just Snape, and she was probably right. But I thought that this would be a good job for me instead. She wasn't thrilled with the decision, since it was far less prestigious, but she accepts it now."

"Why'd you pick it?" Harry asked, curious in spite of himself.

"Hannah was here," Neville said quietly. He started to rub at Harry's captured feet, the gesture seeming more absent-minded than anything. "I wanted to be here with her, and she wanted me nearby, too."

"Sorry." Harry didn't know what else to say. It seemed like no matter what he said, he was going to wind up hurting Neville. This was a bad idea. He tried to pull his feet away, to sit up.

Neville didn't let him go. "It's okay," he said quietly, and it sounded like he genuinely believed what he was saying. "She and I… we were just too different. She wanted things that I couldn't give her, and I…" Neville sighed, and shook his head. "I wasn't willing to keep trying."

"What did she want?" Harry was confused. "She married you when you were an Herbology professor, so she couldn't have wanted any big adventure or anything."

"Sex, Harry," Neville whispered, and when Harry looked at him, his cheeks had gone a dull shade of red. "She wanted sex, and I… didn't. And more than that, I wasn't willing to keep trying. I did try it for her, once, and I… it made me throw up." This last was said in the softest whisper possible, with barely any force behind it. Harry had to strain to hear it.

He sat up, jerking his feet from Neville's grasp, his eyes wide. "You too?" he gasped out, startled into the words.

Neville jerked in surprise and twisted so that he was facing him. "What?" His eyes had gone wide as well.

"That's why Ginny and I wound up divorcing," Harry confessed, just as quietly as Neville had made his confession. "Because… because I managed to father three children, but I couldn't keep… you know, having sex, after that, even after I went to the Mind Healers." His cheeks were flushed as well, with shame from speaking the words out loud. It was the first time he'd done so since he'd spoken with the Mind Healers.

"Oh." Neville let out a small, shaky sigh. "It's… I mean, I'm sorry. But… it's kind of nice to know I'm not alone in that."

Harry tried out a smile, and managed a very shaky one. "Yeah," he muttered. "Yeah, it is." There was a small sense of relief, a small sense of joy to know that if he was broken, at least he wasn't the only one who was broken in that way.

"It's funny," Harry said, once he'd settled back down on the couch, his feet propped up in Neville's lap once more. "Ginny decided that we needed to divorce after she caught me throwing up after my last visit with the Mind Healers. She said that she couldn't watch me suffer anymore. I don't think she realized how her family… how our children would take it." Harry's brow furrowed and his eyes blurred and he blinked back the tears that wanted to fall.

"I guess I'm glad that Hannah and I didn't get around to trying for kids," Neville said. He was stroking Harry's feet again, rubbing at them, the motions slow and soothing. "And I know that it's hard, but your divorce is so recent. Maybe… maybe the kids will come around?"

Harry let his eyes fall closed. "I hope so," he said. He didn't think it would happen, but he really did hope so. It wasn't very likely, he didn't think, though.

The two fell into a comfortable silence as Neville continued to rub at Harry's feet, every now and again running his hands over Harry's legs. Harry supposed that it should be strange, two men sitting together on the couch like that, but really… really it was nice. It was nice to know that he could sit with Neville like this, be touched like this without having to worry about it turning into something sexual.

He hadn't realized how much he'd missed contact like this, especially since Ginny hadn't touched him like that in… a very long time, not since he'd started seeing the Mind Healers, honestly, which had begun just before Lily's fifth year at Hogwarts. Three years…

Harry didn't even realize when he drifted off to sleep, Neville's hands still rubbing gently over his legs.

ooOOooOOoo

Christmas morning dawned bright, to Harry's dismay. He would have preferred it to be dark and cold and gloomy, as that was more suited to his current mood. He thought about getting up, about opening his curtains all the way and heading down to the Great Hall for Christmas breakfast, and then he discarded the idea.

With the mood he was in, he'd just bring everyone around him down, Neville included. It would be better he just didn't even try. He spelled his curtains closed with a muttered spell and a gesture of his wand, closed his eyes, and let his head fall back on the pillow.

He supposed he must have fallen back to sleep because he woke again to a knock on his door, his bedroom door. Nobody should be in his rooms… Harry sat up and raked a hand through his hair and yawned. He groped around for his glasses, and when he plopped them on he noticed how very dark it was in the room. Apparently, he'd successfully slept away Christmas day.

"Harry?" Harry's heart dropped, because that voice… that wasn't Neville, and it wasn't Minerva, and it wasn't anyone who had any business being at Hogwarts. "Harry James Potter, I know that you're in there because your portrait said that you were! Now get out here right now, or I will come drag you out of that bedroom!"

Harry swallowed. Hermione. What was she doing here? "Just a second," he called back, hoarsely. He slid out of bed and looked around the room. He spotted a robe lying haphazardly over a chair and snagged it, throwing it on and buttoning it closed. He wanted to go brush his teeth and his hair, but the pounding on his door told him that Hermione wasn't going to give him time to do either of the above.

"Harry James Potter, if you've gone back to sleep, I-" She cut off, her eyes widening, when Harry flung open the door.

As her eyes raked over Harry, Harry tried out an awkward smile. "Hey, Hermione," he said.

His smile must not have looked very genuine at all. "Harry," she breathed, and reached out to touch him. Harry dodged away. "What… you…" She swallowed. "Ginny said that you both decided that divorce was the best option," she said finally.

Many, many words sprang to Harry's lips. He wanted to ask her why she'd never asked him what had happened, why she'd only cared about Ginny's side of things. Why she'd sided with Ginny completely and had cut him out as thoroughly as Ron had. Why she'd blamed him, if Ginny had said that it was a mutual decision. Harry swallowed all of the words. "We did," was all he said, his voice a little choked from the effort of holding everything back.

"Then why do you look like hell?" she asked bluntly. "And where were you today? I thought… I mean, I was surprised when I didn't see you at Lily's birthday, but for you to miss Christmas? Harry, what's the matter with you?"

The words hurt more than Harry could say. "I wasn't invited," he said quietly, carefully, and blinked to clear the blur from his eyes. It was just because he was tired; it certainly wasn't because he was about to cry.

Hermione blinked back at him. "What do you mean you weren't invited?" she asked, with great incredulity in her voice.

Harry swallowed again. "I mean that I wasn't invited. To Lily's birthday or to Christmas. I sent gifts." He brushed past Hermione and into his sitting room. "Do you want tea or anything?" he asked, both as a way to change the subject and because it was only the polite thing to do when an acquaintance was visiting. And how painful was it that Hermione was now just an acquaintance?

"I don't want… what do you mean that you weren't invited to Lily's birthday? You're her father, she doesn't have to send you an invitation!" Hermione followed him into the sitting room and grabbed him by the shoulder, jerking him around.

Harry flinched from her touch. "She doesn't have to invite me, no," he agreed quietly. He swallowed again, the lump in his throat stubbornly not going anywhere. "But it would have been nice if she hadn't sent me a letter telling me not to come at all."

Hermione's eyes widened. "I'm sure…" She stopped, and appeared to gather her thoughts. "I'm sure that she didn't mean it," she tried, a bit weakly.

Harry just looked at her, and felt more tired than he'd felt before, if that was even possible. "Right." He summoned a house elf and called for some tea, because Neville would be frustrated if he dropped by and found that Harry hadn't eaten, not because he wanted anything to drink or because he was particularly hungry. He just didn't want to frustrate Neville. Neville already worried about him so much...

Hermione had used his brief conversation with the house elf to rally herself, it seemed. "And what about Christmas today? We missed you at Molly and Arthur's, you know."

Harry didn't look at her and instead settled on his couch. "Molly told me not to come by for a while," he said. "And she didn't tell me when that while would be over. I just assumed that it wasn't."

His tea arrived, and he went through the methodical motions of pouring himself a cup, of preparing it the way he liked it best, and then taking a small sip. His stomach wasn't thrilled with his decision, but didn't protest too badly.

"You can't just assume these things, Harry!" Hermione snapped. "We really missed you today!"

"Did you?" he asked, and looked up at her from his tea.

Whatever she saw in his eyes made her step back a bit, her own eyes widening. "I… of course we did!" She seemed offended at the very idea that they wouldn't have missed him.

Harry didn't see how she could have; she hadn't seen him since he'd started at Hogwarts, nor had she made any efforts to see him. It wasn't like it was such a terrible journey for her to make, to come from the Ministry to here. Not when Floo was a thing, and Apparition was available from the Ministry to Hogsmeade. She could walk from there, easily. She hadn't even written to him, not since he'd started here.

He didn't want to say any of that, because he didn't really have the energy to argue with her. Instead, he just dipped his head and returned his attention to his tea. It was sweet, and slightly milky, just the way he liked it, and easier to focus on than Hermione. The elf had brought him some small sandwiches and some biscuits, but he didn't touch them. He really wasn't hungry at all.

"Harry," she started, then stopped when he looked at her once more. Then she appeared to brace herself, drawing her courage around herself, and she continued. "Harry, I'm worried about you. You haven't tried to contact us at all, and you look… you look unwell."

There was the sound of a throat clearing. "Professor Longbottom is outside," the portrait said when Harry glanced at him, grateful for the interruption.

"Please let him in," Harry said, and hoped that he didn't sound as pathetically desperate as he knew he did. "Hey, Neville," he said, as soon as Neville entered the room.

Neville frowned at him, and ignored Hermione for the moment. "You haven't eaten anything today," he said with a frown.

Harry shrugged. "I haven't been hungry," he said honestly. "And I just woke up," he added, because Neville would doubtlessly make his way around to that truth eventually.

Neville sighed at him, but didn't seem horribly frustrated. "You need to eat, Harry," he said gently. "Hermione, good to see you."

"Neville," Hermione said in greeting, but she put an odd intonation on the word. "How have you been?"

"Good." Neville glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, then returned his attention to Harry. "And what did you mean that you just woke up? Harry, it's eight o'clock at night!"

Harry just shrugged and took another sip of his tea. "I meant that I just woke up," he repeated.

"I woke him up when I got here," Hermione said, and Harry could hear the irritation in her voice. "We were disappointed when he didn't show up at all today, and I wanted to talk to him about it."

"Did you make sure that he was invited?" Neville asked evenly. As Harry watched, startled, Neville shifted himself so that he stood in between Hermione and himself, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. It almost looked like… like Neville was defending him? From what, Hermione?

"I shouldn't need to make sure that he was invited, Neville!" Hermione took one step forward, but stopped when Neville didn't move out of her way. "He's always… the Weasleys are his family, Neville, and yes, things might not have worked out between him and Ginny, but the divorce was-"

"Where's Ron, Hermione?" Neville asked gently. He still didn't move.

"What?" Hermione stumbled over the word, like she hadn't expected the question. Maybe she hadn't.

"Where's Ron? Why isn't he here with you?" Neville tilted his head to one side, inviting an answer. When Hermione said nothing, he continued. "You said that the Weasleys are still Harry's family, but even Ron wouldn't come with you tonight. It's because the divorce changed something, and maybe with time whatever wounds it caused will heal, but for now, Harry can't just show up to the Weasleys. And I think you know that."

Hermione swallowed. "I don't even know what you're doing here," she said, a bit snidely.

Neville's lips twitched, and Harry realized suddenly that he was a bit amused by Hermione right then. "Well, you wouldn't. You haven't been around since Harry started teaching here."

Hermione let out a small, affronted gasp. "Harry, are you really going to let him talk to me like that?" she demanded.

Harry shrugged. Neville had only said the things that he'd wanted to say but hadn't felt able to. He certainly wasn't going to stop him from saying those things, no matter how much it frustrated Hermione. He set his teacup down and curled in on himself.

"I think perhaps you should go," Neville said. "You're just upsetting him, now."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Well, he upset me when he didn't even show up for Christmas!" she snapped.

Neville just stared at her. "You're better than that, Hermione," he said quietly. "Come back when you've had time to think about who's really being wronged here."

Hermione jerked like she'd been slapped, her eyes going wide. Then they narrowed once more, but this time the expression was more calculating. "Perhaps I'll do that," she said, and swept from the room.

Neville settled next to Harry with a small sigh. "You don't have to let her talk to you like that, you know," he pointed out. He wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulder and drew him close, ignoring the way that Harry was curled in on himself. When Harry lost his balance and fell against him, he didn't seem to mind.

Harry relaxed into Neville's warmth. "I don't know how else to let her talk to me," he confessed. "She… she was upset, and I… I didn't want to make it worse."

"You're allowed to make it worse when she's being unfair." Neville ran a hand through Harry's hair, then, and grimaced. "You need a shower, you know. The students are going to start calling you the new Snape."

Harry wrinkled his nose. "I'll shower before I leave my rooms next," he said.

"So, you'll shower before breakfast tomorrow? I let you get away with one day of wallowing in your rooms, but one is all you're getting." Neville nudged him with his shoulder, jostling Harry ever so slightly. It wasn't to make him move, Harry could tell that much, it was just a way of getting his attention.

"Okay," Harry agreed quietly. He closed his eyes and leaned even further against Neville, practically melting into him. The contact was so very nice, something he hadn't had in such a long time. It was strange, how much he seemed to crave it, and how much worse it had gotten since he'd realized that Neville was okay letting Harry touch him like this. It should have been strange, but it wasn't.

"Happy Christmas, Harry," Neville said quietly.

Harry didn't smile, but he did respond with a quiet, "Happy Christmas."

ooOOooOOoo

Harry wasn't really all that surprised when, three days before classes were supposed to start, he was called into the Headmistress' office. She frowned at him as he entered, and as he settled in the chair across from her. Her eyes, while sharp and assessing, were softened by the warmth of her concern.

"How are you doing, Harry?" she asked quietly, carefully.

Harry looked down at his hands. "I think I'm doing a good job," he said quickly. "Better than I was doing at the start of the year, anyway." He swallowed. He didn't know what she thought, but he had the feeling that her thoughts probably didn't agree with his own. Especially since… "Except for the grading. I'm pretty far behind on that."

"You've been doing an excellent job aside from the grading," she said quietly, and Harry sagged with relief. "But I do wonder if, personally, the stress of the position might be getting to you."

Harry flinched. She… probably wasn't wrong. He wasn't eating, even though Neville kept trying to convince him to do so. He wasn't sleeping right, mostly because he was still so… sad. Depressed, maybe, was the word he was looking for. He missed his family, his children, his wife. Neville was helpful, but… but Neville didn't sleep by his side at night.

"Maybe," he said quietly. He wanted to deny it. Wanted to shout that he'd been the Head Auror, for Merlin's sake, and wasn't that supposed to be more stressful than teaching a bunch of children? It was certainly a more high-stakes position, and he'd handled it just fine!

"I was thinking," Minerva began.

Harry winced. Here it came. She was going to fire him, and then what was he going to do? Just sit around all day and regret the fact that he hadn't been man enough for his wife? Because if he lost this… if he couldn't even do this job, it wasn't like he could go back to being Head Auror, not when he was this much of a mess.

"Maybe teaching Defense isn't the right subject for you. It's what you've been doing since the end of the war, after all." Then she laughed, the sound just a bit bitter. "Since before that, really. You always were one of our best Defense teachers, even in your fifth year."

Harry glanced up at her. She was watching him, genuine fondness in her eyes, and Harry finally dared to smile back at her. "But I've been doing a good job," he said. "You're not… you're not firing me, right?" Because, Merlin, as pathetic as it was, he didn't think he could handle being fired at this point.

"Of course not!" Minerva scowled at him. "Silly child, you're doing such an excellent job as a teacher, and I do think that the change of pace would be helpful if it weren't such a stressful position. But, I was thinking, our current flying instructor has been expressing a desire to retire. Is there any chance that you'd be interested-"

"Please?" Harry interrupted, his eyes going wide. And then he swallowed. "Sorry. I don't actually know what you were going to ask."

"Oh, I think you have a good idea," she said, her eyes twinkling the way that Albus' once had. "I was going to suggest that, when classes resume, you take on the role of flying instructor rather than Defense professor."

Harry wanted that, more than anything else. An excuse to be up on his broom, helping the children learn how to fly? That sounded… that sounded pretty great, actually. But… "But don't you need a Defense teacher?" He didn't want to leave her without someone to teach the class. It couldn't be easy to fill a position like that on such short notice…

Her face softened. "We do, but there's a chance that I anticipated your saying yes to this switch and perhaps I may have already contacted someone who might be your replacement," she said, her lips twitching.

Part of Harry was offended that she hadn't thought he would stick it out, but the rest of him… the rest of him acknowledged that he'd been pretty much imploding since Halloween. He'd been having trouble managing his classes, in spite of the fact that he hadn't had any major accidents. The only reason he hadn't was because he'd had his students mostly doing bookwork.

Harry sighed. "Then I guess I'll try out flying instructor," he said, and tried to make it sound like he was sadder than he was about it.

He didn't fool Minerva, who just rolled her eyes at him. "Go take those crocodile tears to Neville and see if he'll give you a hug," she said teasingly.

Harry couldn't help but laugh as he stood up, taking the words as a dismissal. "He probably would give me a hug, wouldn't he?" he asked, as he backed away from her desk.

She nodded, her eyes still twinkling. "He does seem to be rather fond of you," she said agreeably.

Harry flushed as he said, "Well, I think I might be rather fond of him, too."

Then he ducked out of her office before she could analyze his statement, or worse, before he could start wondering if he meant it.