Warning: this story will have strong language and violence, death, a little sex, and mentions of suicide. And Slytherins. You have been warned.
Chapter 1: The Bridge
They landed in darkness. Neville always felt dizzy after apparating, and the darkness made it worse. He spread his arms to catch his balance. Steadied, he cast Lumos. Next to him, Theodore Nott winced in the light.
They were in a small clearing with a tangled wood off to one side. On the other side, a massive masonry structure rose up. Just under it was a collection of wood fruit crates, a lopsided sofa in Hufflepuff colors and a Ravenclaw armchair that had seen better days. Neville lifted his wand. Far above, the stone pilings joined in arches, a bridge. Theo was breaking up a wooden crate at the edge of the clearing. In front of the clearing was… nothing. Neville took a tentative step closer. It was a steep rocky slope, he couldn't see the bottom in the darkness, but he could hear water somewhere below. A bridge above a river?
"Put that out," said Nott over his shoulder. Neville obediently dropped the Lumos. Nott was calling the shots, after all.
Like so many things, it all went back to the last year of the war. Neville had seen Hogwarts in a whole new light, that year. DA activities meant that he had to know every closet, corridor, and disused room like the back of his hand. He'd also seen another side of the staff and students. They'd had to be on watch, all the time, and so often he'd seen Slytherins acting suspicious. Not that that was surprising, suspicious was what Slytherins were. But somehow it managed to come out in the DA's favor sometimes. Such as when Neville and Ginny were vandalizing the second-floor east corridor. They were almost caught, would have been caught, except that they could hear Theodore Nott speaking very loudly to Amycus Carrow as they came up the stairs. Loud enough they could hear his voice echoing clearly up the stairwell, "I'm sure they're up to something, sir, it's just this way…" There was plenty of time for Neville and Ginny to be well away when the Carrows arrived on the scene.
At the time, Neville didn't give it much thought, even though it didn't entirely make sense. Why would Nott, who was usually so quiet, decide at that moment to be loud? Neville chalked it up to the usual sort of Slytherin incompetence. It wasn't until shortly after the Battle of Hogwarts that it came out. Millicent Bulstrode, of all people, was suddenly giving information on secret muggleborn holding facilities to the Ministry. She was an eye, the head of them, or so she claimed, the group of students spying for Snape. Neville supposed it made sense; if Snape was really on their side, it would have been almost impossible for him to keep track of everything in the school without help. Of course there wasn't proof, aside for the fact that Bulstrode had information to give, with Snape presumed dead at the time, and since then very little else had come out about them. Certainly, no names besides Bulstrode's.
Not that Neville hadn't tried to find out; there was a debt there, after all. It wasn't until three years later that Neville had his next clue. It was just after Snape's survival had been made public, and Neville had found Nott helping Snape. It made some of Neville's memories finally fall into place, of Nott being glimpsed just around corners and down halls from DA actions. He tried to quietly thank Nott. Nott hadn't been pleased about it at all.
Neville didn't understand at first. He still felt a bit embarrassed by how long it took for him to catch on. With Nott's father in Azkaban for life, it probably should have been self-explanatory. It took Nott very pointedly hissing at him, "I might hate that sodding bastard, but I'd still rather he not get stabbed as a traitor in prison on my account. Do you understand me?"
Neville did, finally. So, there were no thanks and an understanding that Nott could always not call on Neville if he ever didn't need anything.
So Neville knew what it meant when Nott Floo-called him in his quarters at Hogwarts just before the Christmas Holidays. He must have got the location from Bulstrode. The message was curt. "Don't need anything. I'm not calling on you."
"Ok. Should I…"
"Alley behind the Hog's Head. Fifteen minutes."
The Hogwarts' grounds were a bit dismal in the twilight. Quiet with the term ended. The dusting of snow that had been so beautiful three days ago was thoroughly trampled into mud by the last of the students heading down to Hogsmead station.
Nott had been waiting for him back by the Hog's Head's rubbish bins, out of the glow of the holiday lights strung along the street. He was slouching against the fence. That was his usual pose at Hogwarts, too, Neville remembered, blending in at the edges of things, mumbling something noncommittal if he was ever called on in class. Not that he was called on very often; he seemed to even blend in with the desks somehow. He had his usual bored look as Neville approached, but he could see Nott's fingers nervously twisting the cuff of his robes. He glanced down the deserted alley before looking at Neville. He didn't explain a thing. "Ready? Let's go." He took Neville's arm, and then the apparition into darkness.
They weren't in darkness any longer. The fire that Nott had started in the crate slats was sending out a warm glow. Nott sat on another crate and poked at the boards. Nott wasn't looking at him. Neville supposed they were waiting for something. He took the armchair.
There was a crack – it sounded like an apparition, somewhere in the woods. The faint light of a Lumos was bobbing through the trees. Another crack came from the darkness along the bridge supports, and a minute later Blaise Zabini stepped into view.
"What the hell, Nott? Why'd you have to bring along a pussy?"
"He owes me," said Nott calmly.
Daphne Greengrass emerged from the woods a moment later and took a seat on the upper end of the sofa, propping her feet up on a crate. She stared openly at Neville.
Zabini and Nott were exchanging something at the edge of the fire. Zabini got a bag of something and Nott pocketed a roll of bills without counting it.
"Get out of it, Longarse," said Zabini. "Go on."
Neville sighed. He was the intruder, after all. He took a crate near the fire. Zabini settled in the armchair and started rolling a smoke from the contents of the bag. No one spoke. Nott tossed a rock into the darkness. It plinked a few times distantly down the slope.
There was another crack from the slope above. "Finally," said Zabini. Bulstrode was tromping down, still in Hogwarts' grey administrative robes.
Daphne tucked her blond hair behind an ear and pulled a flask from a fold in her cloak. She took a swig just as Bulstrode sat heavily on the other end of the sofa, bouncing Daphne's end up. She sputtered on the mouth of the flask and laughed, a surprisingly clear bright sound.
"Delicate flower," said Zabini.
"Give it here, Greenarse, need it more than you do," said Bulstrode.
Daphne passed the flask. "When are you quitting again?"
"Just sticking till I get a pension," said Bulstrode.
"The hell you are," said Zabini. "You'll stay there forever. You love it. Wiping firsties' noses. Satisfies your mother-instinct, since no one'll ever breed with you."
Bulstrode took a prodigious pull on the flask.
"Zero," said Daphne sweetly to Nott across the fire, "when you roomed with him, how often did Zabini cry for his binky?"
"Every bloody night, until we found out you could stick a cock in his mouth and he'd sleep like a baby."
Neville looked at Nott. He'd always seemed so quiet.
"God, Nott, you should have said something if you didn't enjoy it," said Zabini, passing the smoke to Nott. He took a drag and passed it back. The flask and smoke passed between Zabini and Bulstrode. Nott took his turn at the flask and made to give it back to Zabini.
"What, don't I get a turn?" said Neville. He could tell they'd never let him in unless he opened the door himself. Nott glanced over at Daphne. She shrugged. He handed Neville the flask. It smelled a bit of the stuff Filch had used to scrub down the corridors when he was a kid.
He took a swig. It was bloody awful. He almost choked on it, but he knew he could not show it. He got it down with only a wince and passed it back to Nott. Daphne laughed again. She had seen the wince.
"Right, Nott," said Bulstrode. "You wanted a bloody meeting. Did Goylegeous eat through the food budget already?"
Who on earth was 'Gorgeous?' Neville thought.
"No, he's gone."
"What do you mean, gone?" said Zabini. "Run off? Does this mean he's not coming in to work?"
"Don't think so."
"God, he didn't off himself, did he?" said Daphne.
"No, I –"
There was a faint metallic ping above, then two more. Everyone fell silent. There was a sort of ringing, right at the edge of hearing.
Nott cast something that Neville didn't quite catch, and the fire plunged into darkness, but Neville could still hear it crackling and feel the warmth. A rushing of air started above them. The only light was Zabini's smoke, out of range of the spell, the orange tip glowing and fading as he drew on it.
The rushing above was growing and turning into a deep roar. Neville could feel it up through his feet, in his chest. The train thundered over them, the pounding noise driving all thoughts from his head. The lights of it revealed the cliffs on the other side of the gorge and the wide curve of the tracks before it disappeared into the dense forest on the other side, wailing away. The last Hogwarts' Express out for the winter hols.
Nott cast something again, Neville could barely hear it. The fire came back into view. The trees above them settled back into stillness.
"The wards on my flat were broken and reset. Goylgeous is keyed to them. He wouldn't have needed to break them. Well, he couldn't anyway, not on his own. No wand."
Goylegeous, they were talking about Gregory Goyle, Merlin, that's where he ended up. Neville hadn't seen him, hell, hadn't even thought much about him for years. In fact, the last time he had seen him was, what, five years ago? Neville had testified against him at his trial. And he had been sentenced to what… could it be five years? So he was out. And staying with Nott? Or, more to the point, not staying with Nott anymore.
"Signs of a struggle?" said Bulstrode in the silence.
"No, none at all. In fact, the flat's been wiped of every trace of him. I had to throw some decoy clothes in his room in case the Ministry decides to do a check."
"Zabini?" Bulstrode asked.
"Yeah, I don't know. I haven't seen him since his shift on Tuesday. I don't know where he is on the roster, but I can check."
"Do that," said Bulstrode. "Ask your staff."
"How long do we have?" asked Daphne.
"Two days," said Nott.
"Damn."
"That's where he comes in," said Nott.
Everyone was looking at Neville now. He didn't like it.
"Uh, so Gregory Goyle's run off… and you want me to find him?"
"No, and no," said Nott.
"He won't have gone off on his own," said Daphne. "He may be an idiot, but even he understands that he is well and truly fucked. He wouldn't leave his one safe place to stay. Unless it's to off himself."
Nott shook his head. "We need more time. He's due to check in with his parole officer on Monday." He was speaking directly to Neville. "I need you to get that waived. And no one can know why."
"I – what?"
Zabini gave a great sigh. "This is why you don't bring pussies, Nott."
"I thought you said he owes you," said Daphne.
"He does." Bulstrode's voice was low. "He owes us and he knows it."
He did. He owed them and he knew it. True, the DA didn't know everything the eyes had done, how many times they might have been caught by the Carrows without their distractions and misdirections, but anyone who helped them had been part of the resistance, after all.
"Look, I'm not saying that I wouldn't pay you back in any way I can. I do owe you and I want to…. But does it actually make sense to get his parole check waived? I mean, why don't you just report him missing to the Ministry?"
Several withering looks were directed at him. "No," said Nott wearily. "He'd have no chance at all. If he was in on it, he'd just get sent back to Azkaban. If it's against his will... look, the Ministry would be happy with any excuse to put him back in. Even if they could claim it was for his own protection. He doesn't have any chances left."
"Well, if he is safer inside…"
Nott scoffed. "Do people in Azkaban ever get better? Or do they get worse?"
Neville didn't think he really needed to answer that one.
"No," Nott went on, "we need time to find him. We need that parole check waived."
"But I don't have any influence or connections with parole officers. I wouldn't even know how to begin with that. I mean, why would they waive anything on the word of an assistant Herbology professor?"
"You're the one paying the favor, Longarse. That's for you to figure out," said Zabini.
"I'm not trying to avoid paying you back."
Zabini laughed. "Not me. I'm not one of the eyes. You wouldn't catch me sticking my neck out like that."
Neville looked at them all in confusion. "I thought…"
"I'm here because Goyle's been working in my club. But I haven't seen him any more than the rest of you."
Neville turned to Nott. "And you're the one who's been putting him up."
"Yeah."
"Why? I mean, why didn't you just let him fend for himself?"
"How would that go?" said Bulstrode. "On his own as a muggle? Probably end up hurting someone. We don't need the bad press."
Neville turned back to Nott. "I do owe you. I'll help in any way I can. It's just that I don't see how I can help."
It was Daphne who answered. She was leaning her head on Bulstrode's shoulder and looking at him over the fire with a smile. "Are you sure you don't have any connections, love? No friends? No one at all who would do something for you? No one in the Auror department?"
Oh, hell.
A/N: This story is in the same universe as my other works, but I'll be including context and backstory as it goes, so you shouldn't have to read the previous works to understand this one. You could see this as a rough sequel to Inconclusive Evidence, since it follows some of the same characters, but again, you won't need to read that one if you don't want to. It takes place about 2 ½ years after the end of The Good Friend.
This story is completely written. It will be novella length, about 17 or 18 chapters, depending on how I split things up. I still have editing/typing/polishing to do, so my posting schedule will probably be every other week.