January 2004

Just as I was heading to the break room to change back into my Muggle clothes to walk home, my supervisor stopped me. I immediately felt sick. If he was going to ask me to stay to cover for Patrice again I was going to scream. I wanted to go home to my fiance. I was fed up with covering for her all the time. It made no sense to me how she had made it to the third floor so quickly. She was a terrible worker. On numerous occasions I had had to fix her horrible mistakes that had nearly risked some patients' lives. He seemed to notice the sourness in my expression and laughed, waving his hand, "Don't worry, she's come in for her shift. You don't need to cover for her."

My shoulders relaxed immediately as I went back to changing, putting on my shirt and buttoning it up, "What's the trouble then?"

"No trouble at all, good news, actually."

"Oh? Is it that one witch? Is she still having amortentia hallucinations? What was her name — Katie, right?"

"That's her name, yes. But I'm not here to talk about her."

I shouldered on my winter coat and frowned slightly, "What is it then?"

"I've been thinking about it awhile, and I've discussed it with the other administrators and supervisors; we've all agreed that you deserve a promotion. You're moving up to the fourth floor, with a special assignment to the Janus Thickey ward."

I raised my eyebrows and stared at him dumbfounded. He laughed, "Well, would you like to take the position?"

"Of course!" I finally spit out, reaching out to shake his hand, "You've no idea how much this means. Thank you so much!"

"Not a problem, now get yourself home. We'll see you Monday morning on the fourth floor working your magic, yes?"

"Absolutely, sir. Thank you again, honestly."

"Yeah, yeah, quit buttering me up. Go on," He laughed.

One Week Later

"How are you today, Gilderoy?" I asked as I headed into his room. Unsurprisingly, he was sitting by the window scrawling autographs across a stack of photos of himself. This was his favorite past time. He kept a potion at his side table to prevent his hands from cramping. A bag, halfway filled with these autographed images, sat on the floor beside him. When he was done signing the whole lot, probably around tomorrow morning, I would take the whole sack and clear the autographs so he could keep up his ritual.

"Doing quite well actually!" He said as he perked up in his seat. He didn't put his pen down as he looked up at me coming in the room. He frowned slightly, "You're — Eric, right?"

I smirked and suppressed a laugh, "No. It's Draco. You'll remember next time."

"Ah, yes. Of course. I remember now. You're new. It takes me a little while to remember the new workers on the floor. But I'll get there eventually!" He finally put his pen down and tucked his stack of signed photos in the bag. A box of unsigned ones rested on the wide window sill beside him.

I sat in the chair across from him, "So, even though I'm new, I'm sure you remember how this works?"

"Yes, this much I remember." He assured me as he folded his hands in his lap. "You may begin your examination, Draco."

I checked a couple of boxes on the form in my hands. I jotted down a couple of details and asked as I looked at the parchment, "What's your name?"

"Gilderoy Lockhart. January 26th, 1964. Hogwarts. Ravenclaw. I was and still am a writer, though I was briefly a professor at Hogwarts."

I repeatedly checked boxes off as he continued through the list he had managed to memorize, a sign of his vast improvement since he first arrived in the wing. As I approached the end of the list he stopped answering the unspoken questions and waited for me to ask them, "Can you tell me who the current Minister of Magic is?"

He hummed in thought and glanced out the window to London below, "Cornelius Fudge?"

I took a note and continued on, "Can you tell me what incantation unlocks doors?"

"Wait, wait, is Fudge minister?"

I paused and glanced up, surprised. I had not done this test with him before, it was the first time I was really getting a chance to interact with my patients. Previously I had only come by with food and to pick up his autographs. I blushed slightly and glanced at the form, unsure of what to do. I wasn't sure what was more appropriate in the situation: to tell him the truth or continue on with the questionnaire. I finally sighed and glanced up at him, "Uh, no. Current Minister of Magic is Kingsley Shacklebolt."

Lockhart frowned and muttered a curse under his breath before looking back out the window, "What was the other question?"

"Can you tell me what incantation unlocks doors?"

"Alohomora," He said confidently, smiling to himself.

I checked the box and asked the last question, "What year is it?"

Lockhart frowned and glared out the window at nothing in particular. He grumbled a bit before finally muttering under his breath, "1999?"

"Close," I admitted, "2004."

He grumbled and shook his head, "I can never get the year right."

"You did get the vast majority correct though," I assured him, "Your charts show a very clear improvement over the years. We'll keep up the potion and herbal intakes to further strengthen your memory."

"Thank you, Draco."

"Of course," I said as I stood and headed for the door out of his room. Just as I was about to walk out he turned and added, "That's an odd name." I paused in the door and looked at him curiously, "I suppose it is."

"I think I — no that's silly. Had to be someone else. Nevermind." He said, waving me off. I didn't question it and stepped out of his room. He may someday remember I was his student at Hogwarts, but it would clearly take more time. Grace, my mentor on the floor, was waiting for me outside the room with a clipboard.

"How'd I do?" I asked a bit nervously.

"Not bad. You made the right move in answering his questions. If you had looked a bit more closely at his forms you would have seen he has to know whether he was correct or not. If you had avoided answering or moved on he would have gotten aggravated and lost track of the conversation." She looked up from the clipboard with his file on it, "There is something you ought to know that is not in the form," She murmured under her breath, "Gilderoy really has nowhere to go from here. He knows this deep down and deliberately answers one question wrong every time. You'll notice he never asks when he can go home. He hasn't a home. He likes it here. So most of the medicine we give him are vitamins or placebos at this point."

I raised an eyebrow but I didn't question it. I just nodded and made a mental note, "Got it. Who should I see next?"

She smiled, "Steady as you go, Draco. Why don't you go bring lunch to the incapacitated beds? I don't believe you've met them yet. They're our more permanent residents, even more than Gilderoy. You ought to get to know them. Head on over. Let me know when you're done."

I nodded and headed down the hall. I flicked my wand toward the closet door as I passed it, a few trays floating out of the door as it swung open. The trays floated beside me as I entered the part of the ward with the open beds. I checked the labels on the trays with the clipboards at the foot of each bed. I carefully deposited each tray to the correct bed. I was nearly done with the rounds for the patients, doing my best to memorize the names, when I noticed someone walk past me and into the ward. I glanced up and was startled to see the person was in casual clothes, not a medical uniform. It was a taller man with dark hair carrying flowers. I was on my way to feed the last two patients this man was approaching. Nobody had told me that visitors were allowed or mentioned the policy, so I spoke up, "Excuse me sir?"

He glanced over his shoulder and I jumped slightly, "Neville?"

"Oh, hey, I didn't know you worked up here now. When did that happen? Can't have been very long ago, I'm here quite regularly."

"I — yeah, been here a week now. What are you doing here? I didn't know we allowed visitors."

He smiled sheepishly and glanced down at his flowers, "Not usually. I'm the only one that really comes out to visit." He glanced at the two remaining trays hovering behind me. "Oh, was I interrupting their lunch?"

"Um —"

"It's fine," He insisted, taking out his wand with his free hand and gesturing toward the trays. They floated over to the end tables by the two beds. I glanced at the people occupying them. One was a man, one was a woman. I felt a stone sink into my stomach. "I usually just give them their flowers and talk to them for a moment. I'll be out of your hair briefly, but if you don't mind I'm going to have a few words."

"Right, of course, excuse me," I said quickly before stepping away. I turned around and headed back out into the hall. Grace happened to be walking toward me. She glanced up and smiled, "Ready for more face to face?"

"Um, no. Actually," I pinched the bridge of my nose and shut my eyes, "Would it be possible for me to take the rest of the day off? Something's come up."

"Everything alright?" She asked with growing concern.

I shook my head, "Um. No. I — I,"

She suddenly opened her mouth in understanding and sighed, "You saw Neville."

I looked away from her.

"And you know who he's visiting and why they're here, I presume?"

I nodded briefly, still unable to look her in the eyes.

"Yes I thought something may happen. You can head on home if you like, though I would recommend having a word with him once he's finished talking to them. It might do you both some good. Either way," She said, briefly resting a hand on my shoulder before walking away, "Have a good evening."

I ran a hand through my hair and leaned against the wall, trying to breathe. Neville did not need to explain why he was there, or the significance of the people he was visiting. I knew. Of course I knew. How could I not? I muttered a spell under my breath and flicked my wand at my side. My muggle clothes that had been in my locker several floors below appeared before me and I easily switched the two outfits with another flick of the wrist. I magicked my work clothes away just as Neville walked out of the room, his flowers now absent from his hands.

He didn't notice me and began to walk away toward the stairs. I stood and stepped behind him, "Hey, Neville?"

He looked back at me for the second time that day and smiled, "Oh, I didn't see you there. Are you already off your shift?"

"Took the day off early," I explained briefly, "Do you want to go and grab a drink at the Leaky Cauldron? If you don't have anything else going on today that is,"

Neville smiled and nodded, leading the way back toward the stairs as I followed, "Of course. I got Aberforth to cover the last few classes I had today anyway, so I had no plans to go back to Hogwarts today. You sure it isn't too early to drink?"

I shrugged, "One butterbeer won't kill us I figure."

"Fair enough," He admitted.

"Wait, did you say Aberforth?" I asked sharply. The name had not really registered in my mind right away. I knew vaguely of him, though most of what I knew of him Harry had told me or I had read in Rita Skeeter's garbage book.

"Yeah, you know him?"

"Not personally, isn't he —"

"Albus' brother? Yeah. Minerva struggled to find a good Defence Against the Dark Arts professor for awhile, but she managed to convince Aberforth to take on the position a couple years back. He only agreed to it because she let him keep his goat in his room."

I couldn't help but laugh, "He has a goat?"

"He actually has two or three goats he keeps holed up in there, but whenever Minerva happens to be around he just transfigures the other two into trinkets so she still doesn't know."

We headed out the front door of the hospital a few moments later. A mild drizzle was falling from the dreary clouds above and wetting our hair as we walked through the streets toward the London entrance of the Cauldron. I regretted not wearing my leather jacket as soon as a small breeze cut through my clothes and made my skin shiver. I hated winter so much. Neville held the door of the dark pub open for me. I thanked him quietly as we entered and took a booth in the corner. Butterbeers appeared almost immediately at our table. Neville smiled and nodded toward the bartender appreciatively.

"Does he know you well?" I asked curiously as I picked up my pint.

"Something like that. I used to come here every time I saw my parents. It's been awhile though. I'm sure he's glad to see I'm in better shape than the last time I was here."

"When was the last time?" I asked cautiously.

Neville blinked and his naturally cheery expression faded and darkened, "A few years back. It was the anniversary of their … attack. It was the twentieth anniversary, to be exact. They just happened to be especially off that day. Dad wouldn't wake at all. Mom was upset and agitated. She threw the vase of water across the room and started sobbing. She sounded like she was trying to say my name, but couldn't get it out. I had to leave. I couldn't handle it. So I came here and got blackout drunk. Tom had to put me up in the room upstairs and watch me through the night. I apparently told him everything about them in my drunken state. He saw to it that I got home alright the next day and helped nurse my hangover with a potion of his. So, it's no wonder that he's giving us the butterbeer without our needing to ask."

I set my glass down and folded my arms on the table in front of me, "Neville, I —"

"I know what you're going to say," He interrupted, setting his own butterbeer aside, "You don't have to apologize for your family's crimes."

I shook my head, "Yes, actually, I do. I'm so sorry for the pain my family has caused yours. It's not fair and it's not right. I have done everything I can to make up for the cruel actions of my family."

"Draco," Neville was shaking his head as he spoke, "You can't burden yourself with the guilt of every single bad thing your family has ever done. There's no need to be Atlas here."

"Who's Atlas?"

Neville smiled, "An old muggle myth Hannah told me about. Her mum's a muggle and she just loves these ancient tales from Greece. Anyway, Atlas was this great titan of some kind who was punished for fighting on the wrong side of a battle. His punishment was to hold up the entire sky on his shoulders." He paused to sip at his butterbeer, "My point is that you can't keep shouldering all this guilt. Did you make mistakes? Of course you did. But you did not personally see to it that my parents were tortured. You had no involvement in that, and frankly most of the crimes your family has committed you had no part of. You cannot blame yourself for what they have done. Do you think Hermione blames you for the torture she endured from your aunt?"

I mumbled, "No."

"It's the exact same principle. I can't blame you for what she did to my parents, there's nothing you could have done to intervene."

I sighed and grabbed for my butterbeer again, quietly drinking the saccharine beverage, "But I should have intervened with Hermione."

"Shoulda, woulda, coulda. The point is, it is not your fault that your family made some horrible choices and hurt people and families. You never actually harmed anyone. You need to start cutting yourself some slack."

I put my half empty pint down and wiped the foam off my mouth. I glanced up at Neville for the first time in awhile. He smiled. I relented with a sigh, "You may have a point."

"Of course I do. I'm a professor. I know everything."

I cracked a smirk and rolled my eyes, "Oh don't go pulling that every time you think of something clever."

"I can't help it. It's too much fun. I feel like a pompous Ravenclaw, flaunting my knowledge to any who will still listen."

This actually managed to get a real laugh out of me. Despite how many years it had been since we were in school, it was still all too easy to tease the other houses. The rivalry that had once existed when we were kids had devolved into more of a mild mockery in the past few years, at least with the other three houses. Slytherin was still generally mistrusted. I was fairly certain all of Harry's friends thought of me as the exception to the Slytherin rule, rather than the norm. Granted, I often thought of them as the exception to the rule that all Gryffindors are pig headed and careless.

With my admission of needless guilt out of the way, we managed to ease back and just chat for awhile. It had been some time since the two of us had had a chance to catch up. We saw each other now and again, usually in the form of double dates with Harry and Hannah. Neville and I rarely got to sit down and just be friendly. Out of all of Harry's school friends, Neville was ironically the one that I had found myself most drawn to lately. Ron and Hermione had grown on me, and I was deeply appreciative that they had grown to like me as well. While I could talk about muggle things with Hermione and wizarding things with Ron, nobody quite understood who I was (other than Harry) like Neville did. Unlike Ron and Hermione, Neville had assumed the best about me upon meeting again after the war. Despite the foolish mistakes I had made, he had been the quickest to forgive me. Our conversation today proved again his unending ability to forgive.

"So how's the wedding planning going?"

I stifled a groan of irritation.

He smiled sympathetically, "Not well then I take it?"

"Well, it was a mess for awhile. We didn't have a place to have the wedding. Not many options in the wizarding world and all the muggles don't allow two men to marry. We finally decided it would just be easier if we bought our own place and got married there, in the yard."

His eyes widened in surprise, "You're buying a house together?"

"Yeah, is it any surprise? We've already lived together for awhile, we know we won't have any trouble with it."

"It's still a milestone. So wedding gifts can double as housewarming gifts, yes?"

"Of course. I wouldn't want anyone getting us both. In fact, I keep trying to insist nobody should get us gifts at all. Harry agrees with me. But Molly won't hear about it, neither will Hermione. It's quite annoying."

Neville smiled, "Oh you'll be fine. Just try not to feel guilty that people are getting you things, okay?"

"I suppose I can try not to." I admitted. The wedding was still ten months away, but I was already getting excited for it. The house had already been picked out and we were just finalizing some paperwork and inspections before we could move in next month. Some of the larger elements of planning the wedding had yet to be settled (we were still bickering over whether or not to bother with a color scheme) but we weren't worried. Ten months was plenty of time to arrange things. But it dawned on me that there was a very simple task that I still needed to do. My eyes widened as the thought struck me and a smile slowly spread across my face.

"Draco, I know you're not evil, but that is still a very spooky look." Neville said uneasily.

"I just had a wonderful thought,"

"From the looks of it a wonderfully menacing thought."

"No, no, not at all."

"Well out with it then, what is it?"

"Neville, how would you like to be my best man?"

He didn't respond right away. He just frowned over his glass and looked at me curiously, "Come again?"

"Ron is going to be Harry's best man, obviously, but I don't have one for myself yet. There's nobody I would trust more for that job than you." I spoke a bit quickly, my excitement building and growing.

Neville's expression slowly shifted into surprise and delight, "I — I would be happy to."

"You seem surprised,"

"I guess I hadn't realized that I meant that much to you. I just always assumed you liked Ron or Hermione more. Most people do anyway, and who can blame them?"

"That's preposterous, Neville," I insisted strongly, "Yes I like them. Yes I get along with them just fine now. But you're the one who helped me out last year when I was in a rough patch. You're the one who did not make assumptions about me. You always gave me the benefit of the doubt, the second chance I've always needed. You and Harry were the only people to have faith in me after the war."

His cheeks flushed a bit pink and he shrugged the compliments off sheepishly, "If you say so. Anyway, I should get heading home. Hannah will be wanting me to make dinner at any minute. If she hasn't eaten by 5:30 she gets cranky."

"You realize you're dating an old woman right? Who eats by 5:30 these days?"

He shrugged, "My girlfriend apparently. Anyway, let me know if you need anything for the wedding then. I suppose I'm at your beck and call now."

"Pretty much. But you and Ron can suffer through it together."

"When's the wedding then?"

"October."

"You nervous?" He asked as he sidled over toward the back of the bar where the fireplace was, clearly planning on getting back to Hogwarts via floo powder.

"Only a little. Say hi to Hannah for me, will you?" I said as I backed away toward the front door out to the street.

"I will. Do the same for Harry, alright?" He said with a final wave as I headed out the door.