July 1, 1998

The Hogwarts Express swung around an S-curve at speed as the train approached London's outskirts, causing Neville, who had been dozing, to knock into first Goyle and then Zabini.

"Sorry," he muttered to the Slytherins he was sitting sandwiched between.

"It's alright," Greg said immediately. "Wanna play Exploding Snap now that you're up?"

"I don't recommend that," Blaise advised, with a pointed glance across the carriage where Malfoy was sprawled across the seat, his head pillowed in Hermione's lap as he slept. "Draco was in a right foul mood before, and it's not going to improve if you wake him."

Harry, who was twined around Zabini's neck like an exotic scarf, hissed in agreement. From across the compartment, Hermione lifted her eyes from the book she was engrossed in and nodded.

"Never tickle a sleeping dragon," she paraphrased their school motto.

Zabini smirked at her. "I always knew you were smart, luv. No wonder Drake likes you so much."

Harry hissed at the thought.

"Be careful with Harry, Blaise. He's not himself right now," she warned.

"You think?" Zabini gibed.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "I mean that his instincts as an adder are warring with his humanity, and you'll get yourself bitten if you aren't more careful."

"You've given me the antivenin you and Drake brewed yesterday, so I'll be fine," he shrugged off her concern with a charming smile.

Neville hoped that the brewing process explained why Hermione and Malfoy both seemed tired and out of sorts. He really did not want to think about other explanations as to why they would have been up half the night.

"Even with the antivenin, you'll still be as sick as a dog," she said in a hectoring tone. "And you'll need to read up on animal possession and caring for snakes in order to properly take care of Harry. He's going to need another host within a couple of weeks, so you'll need to be prepared."

"I'm going to buy the biggest boa constrictor I can find for him. Galleons no object," Blaise proclaimed.

Hermione gave him a quelling look. "A grass snake may be more practical, unless you want people to think you're compensating for something. Here are some notes I've made for you."

Neville and Goyle both snorted, but Zabini remained unruffled, clearly confident he had no shortcomings for which to compensate. He took the proffered sheet of parchment and gave it a cursory glance before shoving it into his pocket. "My, my. You were a busy girl last night, weren't you, Hermione?"

"What in Godric's name are you suggesting, Zabini?" she demanded, cheeks red and clearly spoiling for a fight.

"Me, suggestive?" he replied, dramatically clasping his hands to his heart. "You wound me, witch."

Neville mentally shook his head at Zabini's recklessness. Hermione's mood was not nearly as foul as Malfoy's, but still was far from pleasant. Clearly, something had happened between the two of them and Neville - unlike the idiotic Slytherin with a venomous snake wrapped around his neck - had no desire to get caught in the crossfire.

"It's weird that this is our last train ride," Greg said, by way of distraction. He elbowed Neville in a friendly way. "I've never ridden with Gryffindors before, but it's alright."

"Speak for yourself, Gregory. I've certainly ridden with Gryffindors before," Blaise boasted.

Malfoy cracked his eyes open, showing the merest slit of grey. "Riding Lavender Brown is nothing to brag about, Zabini. She's the village broomstick for all of Hogwarts."

"Plus Fay Dunbar, Lily Moon, and the Gryffindor Patil. Granger's the only lioness in our year who's still holding out on me." Blaise waggled his eyebrows at her. "We've got a little bit of time until we pull into King's Cross. How 'bout it, Hermione? We can find an empty compartment and - "

"Shut it, Zabini." Hermione and Malfoy spoke in unison. To Neville's ears, she sounded mildly annoyed, but the blond wizard sounded murderous.

"I was just taking the piss," the dark Slytherin said, holding his hands up in a placating fashion.

Malfoy glared, but Hermione nodded once and proceeded to ignore him, focusing her attention on the blond now that he was awake.

"We should talk to Neville," Hermione said, an intent look on her face. "And Harry. They deserve to know."

Naturally, Neville's attention was caught by his own name.

"No, Granger! Longbottom's Occlumency isn't there yet, and Potty's a fucking snake!" Malfoy answered, simmering with anger. Clearly, she was poking a sore spot, picking up the threads of an unresolved disagreement.

"You can't use Legilemency against animals, and Neville's come along. When else are you going to tell them?" Hermione asked, her voice rising. "You can't risk anyone overhearing at Malfoy Manor."

"Not now, and that's final," he snapped.

Neville held his breath, waiting. He had seen Hermione row with Harry or Ron or both of them any number of times, and using a tone like that inevitably resulted in hexes or tears.

Instead, Hermione's shoulders slumped in frustrated defeat. "Fine, Draco. It's your funeral."

"Nobody's going to die, Hermione," Zabini said with smooth reassurance.

Malfoy snorted. "I never had pegged you for an optimist, Blaise."

"We should be trying to minimize the body count, though," Hermione said, with a pointed glance at the blond.

"Don't start, Granger." Malfoy stood and offered her a hand. "It's time for you to get changed."

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" she demanded, stubbornly remaining seated.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "It's Muggle and it's too revealing."

Neville did not think Hermione's denims and short-sleeved shirt were revealing - not that he had been looking - but they were undoubtedly Muggle.

"Come on," Malfoy said impatiently, tugging her to her feet and out of the compartment before she could argue further, stopping only to snag a dress box stamped with Twilfitt and Tatting's discreet yet distinctive logo.

The compartment seemed very quiet without the squabbling duo. Greg heaved a sigh of relief and began dealing out Exploding Snap cards. Neville took a hand, but Blaise declined.

"No, thank you. I like my eyebrows as they are." He did watch intently as they began to play, trying to lure either or both of them into bets.

"They've been gone a while," Goyle muttered after several minutes had gone by, looking uneasily at the compartment door. "We're almost at King's Cross."

"Five Galleons say they're having make-up sex in the loo," Zabini suggested.

Neville grimaced, but did not disagree - he thought the Slytherin probably was correct.

Harry, in snake form, wrapped his tail around his body and stuck it in his mouth, pretending to gag.

Blaise gave him a consoling pat. "You'll have to get used to it, Potty. They're like kneazles in heat. They - "

Hermione's return, with Malfoy a step behind her, cut off the remainder of his commentary. She was wearing a dress made out of some dark green material with a subtle sheen - Neville thought vaguely it might be satin or silk. The dress had a deep neckline, lined with black lace to make it more slightly more modest, and dozens of tiny jeweled buttons running down the back. Neville followed them with his eyes, blushing when he realized he was now staring at Hermione's bum - and it was quite nice. He only realized his jaw had dropped when Greg elbowed him and clicked it shut.

Greg was the first to stand up, remembering the painfully dull etiquette lessons from childhood all pureblood wizards endured. Neville belatedly scrambled to his feet, followed by Zabini.

Blaise, of course, was the first the speak. "You are a vision, Hermione. Bellissima! I haven't seen you look quite this lovely since the Yule Ball."

"Told you so," Malfoy said to the witch with a smug smile and proprietary arm around her waist.

Hermione's cheeks were pink. She swiped her hands down the form-fitting bodice, clearly uncomfortable. "It's too tight, and it's cut too low - I feel like I should be trolling for customers in Knockturn Alley dressed like this."

"Believe me, Granger, no Knockturn Alley prostitute could afford a dress like that. You are dressed at the height of pureblood fashion," Blaise reassured her.

"Which is like Muggle fashion from a century ago," Hermione complained. "And just as uncomfortable."

"Hush, Granger," Malfoy said, his hand still curled around her waist, steadying her as the train pulled into the station. "A dress like this shows how much I value you. That kind of respect is worth a bit of discomfort."

"He's right, you know," Neville added in reluctant agreement, thinking about how Carrow had kept Hannah dressed in contrast. "You saw how we all reacted. It's conditioned."

Hermione sniffed. "I saw, but I don't have to like it."

"No, but you do have to wear it," Malfoy said firmly. "Isn't it time to put Potty in his carrier?" he added with a smirk as they pulled into the station. "We don't want to alarm any Muggles with a snake on the loose."

Harry hissed at the blond, while Hermione gave him a reproachful look.

Blaise, however, chuckled. "No need for a carrier. I'll Floo right from the station, so Potty can stay 'round my neck."

"You probably should give him a new name," Greg suggested. "Potty sounds too much like Potter."

Malfoy's grey eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning. "How about Hissy? It seems to suit, and Potter was always throwing hissy fits."

Harry replied with a series of hisses and vehement shaking of his head.

"Wow, I just learned how to say 'pot, meet kettle' in Parseltongue," Hermione said snarkily.

Blaise laughed. "Drake is a drama queen, but I think Hissy added some other choice words in there."

Harry hissed at him, clearly not liking the proposed alias.

"Call him James," Neville interjected. "It's his middle name."

"Yes, do that," Hermione ordered bossily.

"I like it," Zabini agreed.

"I'll still call him Hissy," Malfoy shrugged. "Come on, Granger. It's time to go. We need to get to Gringott's before they close."

"Picking up some sparklies for her?" Zabini asked.

"Something like that," Draco said curtly. Once again, he and Hermione exchanged one of those indecipherable glances that told Neville they shared a secret. "Longbottom, I'm sure I'll see you soon."

Neville knew he was right. The Dark Lord's demands on his Death Eaters were becoming more frequent. "I'm sure. Take care, both of you."

Hermione smiled and Malfoy nodded before he escorted her off the train and onto the platform, less crowded than usual. Goyle gave Neville a friendly punch to the shoulder before lumbering after them to flank Hermione on her other side.

Rubbing his now-sore shoulder, Neville stepped off the train, looking for his grandmother without any real expectation of finding her. She had not responded to any of his letters since the battle, and he was expecting a chilly welcome at best. In any event, the last he had heard, she still was under house arrest.

"Expecting someone?" Zabini asked, eyebrows raised.

"Not really. My gran's always been here before, but . . . " Neville trailed off.

"My mum hasn't bothered to show up since second year," Blaise shrugged. "At least you've got your Apparition license, right?"

"Yeah," Neville replied. "Well, I'll see you and James around," he said, giving Harry a pat. It would be nice to know if the emerald-eyed snake still was the Chosen One, even if no longer in human form, but Neville figured Hermione was working on it.

The tall, dark Slytherin strode away, head proudly high and with Harry twined around his neck. Neville followed them with concerned eyes. Zabini was a clever one, but not the most responsible. He hoped Harry would be safe in his care.

With a hefty sigh, Neville took hold of his shrunken trunk and spun on the spot, thinking of Longbottom House. Since it was in Lancashire, it would have been just as easy to Apparate from Scotland, but the school governors insisted on every student - even those who were of age - taking the Hogwarts Express all the way south to London.

He landed near the pond he had spent so much time picturing as he worked on his Occlumency. Resizing his trunk, he paused for a moment to admire the evening sunlight filtering through the trees and reflecting off the water before trudging towards the house, levitating his trunk before him.

"Gran, I'm home!" he called, stepping through the oaken front door.

"Reducto!"

Neville's truck exploded in front of his eyes and he threw up a hasty shield charm.

"Get out of my house, Death Eater!" Augusta Longbottom screamed, from a strategic spot on the landing, clinging to the banister for support.

Neville ducked behind a handy umbrella stand. "Gran, it's still me. I haven't changed," he pleaded, knowing it was a lie. With Carrow's death, most of the restrictions on his wand had disappeared, but that did not make him eager to duel his grandmother.

"You are disgrace to this family! After all your parents sacrificed - it makes me grateful that they are beyond understanding what you've become," his grandmother said, acid etching every syllable. She shot off another shaky hex, one that Neville blocked with ease.

"Expelliarmus!" he shouted back half-heartedly, not wanting to hurt her, but also not wanting to be hurt himself. Even though he had pulled the spell, his grandmother flew back against the wall, cracking her head against the wood paneling.

Neville raced up the stairs, his gran's wand and his own clutched in his hand, praying to Godric she was not hurt.

His prayers were answered - she spat in his face. "I wish you had been a Squib after all," she said bitterly.

He sighed in relief. She was alive, and he could explain. Augusta Longbottom, if she was anything, was exactingly fair-minded.

"Oh, Gran," Neville sighed, holding her close, feeling just how bony and fragile she had become. "It's good be home."

A/N: This is the one-year anniversary for TLLH! 52 chapters, so on average, one per week. Many thanks to anyone who has left a review at any point over the last 365 days, and special thanks for last chapter's reviews by Newsie35 and Iseult. To answer Iseult's question, the story probably will be 70-75 chapters total.