Title: Only Time, Chapter Two

Author: frkwerewolf

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Draco/Neville

Rating: R

Chapter Summary: Draco has a quest.

Notes: I have come to decision that flames are a reviewer's cry for more. Yes, that has nothing to do with this story, I just thought I'd share.

.Chapter Two.

Malfoys did not follow orders. They were their own people. They did what they wanted, when they wanted to do it. Unless there was an order from an older Malfoy. Which was true in this case.

One week after the announcement of Draco's horrid engagement to Neville Longbottom, the Malfoy eagle owl dropped a very angry letter in Draco's breakfast. It appeared that unknown sources (Draco suspected Blaise Zabini, but had no proof.) had alerted his father on one simple fact: Draco had yet to even talk to Neville.

It wasn't that Draco hadn't tried... Well, okay, that was a lie. Draco had avoided the Gryffindor, going almost as far as skipping Double Potions. That is, until he remember it was Snape that taught the class and this was no time to get on his bad side.

Draco didn't want to talk to Neville. And that was essentially the problem. Why would he want to talk to that chubby, sad excuse of a wizard? It was absurd. But Lucius had insisted. The letter had been three pages of complaining which could of been summed up in less words: Just because Draco did not want to marry him did not mean he had to act like a prat. He was a Malfoy, after all, and as such he was a very passionate creature. Not to mention a social conscious creature and what good would it do to give people the impression that he was a cold bastard who was not willing to try to get along with his fiancé?

Draco didn't even bother replying. He could get by with many things, he was spoiled rotten after all. Yet, he didn't think he could get away with calling his father on the fact that society already thought Malfoys were cold bastards.

So, one Saturday morning, Draco found himself on a quest. To find Neville Longbottom. It would be much easier to ask someone, but when he attempted to approach that mudblood, Granger, Weasley had come to her defense as though Draco was assaulting her. Paranoid Gryffindors, and Draco thought Slytherins were bad.

He searched the Astronomy Tower, the North Tower, the Owlery, and even the dungeons. After spending thirty minutes attempting to calm down some stupid house elf in the kitchens, that apparently knew him, Draco was almost ready to give up. This was getting ridiculous. How could one boy hide so well?

Draco spotted a flash of gold and red, turning he watched as two other members of the Gryffindor house walked down the hall. They looked to be in a heated conversation about brooms and... west ham? He wasn't sure he wanted to know what ham had to do with brooms. It really wasn't any of his business anyway. "Excuse me."

Both boys turned and looked at him in unison. The shorter one raised an eyebrow and said in an Irish accent, "Your excused."

"What?" Draco's calm slipped long enough for him to gap at the two, before replacing the expression with a cold stare.

"What? What?" The Irish boy, Seamus Finnigan if Draco's memory served right, asked, tilting his head. His companion, Dean Thomas, snickered.

"Listen here, you bloody Gryffindor!" Draco hissed, stepping forward.

"Why don't you back off, Malfoy." The taller black boy suggested in a voice that had become much too deep for their age.

"I was merely trying to ask you a question." Draco defended.

"Really, now?" Seamus smirked. "And what would that be?"

"..." Draco hesitated, glancing between the two. Seamus had an expression of pure mischief, while the other looked more calm. Draco wouldn't trust either of them as far as he could throw them. Yet, he needed to get this initial talk over with and to do that he had to find out where Neville was. "Do you know where Longbottom is?"

"I don't know, do we Dean?" Seamus asked.

"That is the question, isn't it." Dean mused.

"Yes, indeed it is." Seamus agreed.

"Will you just answer the question!" Draco bellowed.

"Honestly, such anger!" Seamus gasped. Dean nodded sagely. Draco felt his eye begin to twitch.

"Seamus, I do believe we should answer his question." Dean said calmly. "He looks as though he might pass out from stress."

"Why would that be a bad thing?" Seamus asked.

"Hmm, you have a point." Dean nodded. Draco growled slightly.

"So, you want to know where Neville is?" Seamus clarified. Draco nodded, not trusting himself to open his mouth and not curse them. "He's usually in the greenhouses on the weekends. Let's see... It's the beginning of the month? Hmm... He should be in Greenhouse Seven."

"Eight." Dean said.

"No, seven." Seamus argued.

"He spent all night mumbling about those ugly red Christmas flowers." Dean told him. "So, he'll be in eight."

"How do you know that they are in eight and not seven?" Seamus countered.

"Can't you just trust me?" Dean asked, a slow grin appearing on his face. Draco felt like gagging. They were actually flirting in front of him. Oh, it wasn't very noticeable, but Slytherins were very good at picking up on things that were subtle.

"I suppose." Seamus relented, turning back to Draco. "Eight, then."

"About bloody time." Draco grumbled, shoving past them. The two Gryffindors watched him leave, chuckling.

Draco had not been near the greenhouses voluntarily in two years. The moment he had been able to drop the class, he did. So, it inevitably took even longer for him to find Greenhouse Eight. Upon entering the greenhouse, he saw that it was where Professor Sprout put most of the flowers. The place was colorful, to the point where it was almost sickening.

Draco slipped through the aisles of plant, avoiding certain ones that felt the need to lean toward him. He could hear movement towards the back of the greenhouse and so, very careful not to attract attention to himself, he made his way there. Draco watched, hiding behind what looked to be lilies, as Neville rolled around in the dirt. Well, okay, it wasn't rolling. He was on his hands and knees, pulling weeds out of a small garden of tiny flowers. Unlike the rest of the flowers in the greenhouse, these were planted directly into the ground. Draco wasn't sure if this meant anything or not, but what he was sure of was the fact that it gave him a perfect view of Neville's butt.

Not that he was looking or anything.

Draco watched as Neville hummed to himself, ripping the weeds out of the ground with ease. After a moment, Neville sat back on his haunches and wiped at the sweat on his face. Draco noted with slight amusement that he only managed to smear dirt across his cheek and forehead. Blinking, Draco realized he had been staring long enough and cleared his throat to announce his presence.

Neville started at the sound, slowly looking over his shoulder. When he spotted Draco, his body tensed. "W-what are you doing in here?"

"To talk to you." Draco glared. "Trust me, I wouldn't voluntarily come inside this bloody place if I didn't have to."

Different emotions flittered across Neville's face. Fear, confusion, and nervousness were expected, but Draco was a bit shocked when his face settled on agitation. Calmly, Draco stepped away from the benches of plants and came closer to Neville. Neville narrowed his eyes and looked up at the Slytherin with the air of distaste.

"What do you want?" Neville asked, before turning away from Draco completely and examining one of the tiny blue flowers.

"Look, Father insists that I get on your good side before Christmas." Draco told him. He shook his head in disbelief. "Why, one will never know. It's not like I got along with Parkinson when we were engaged. Apparently, we have be all... nice to each other during Christmas break."

"Indeed." Was all Neville said, as he continued to pet the flowers.

"Are you even listening to me?" Draco asked, annoyed. Slowly, Neville looked up at him with a look akin to amusement. This made Draco seethe in fury. How dare this pathetic Gryffindor find anything about him amusing! "Listen here, you worthless toad, I don't like you and I never will. Your fat, ugly, and-"

Later, Draco would tell himself that he should of expected it, but it came as a shock at the time. Neville's fist connected firmly to his jaw, sending his sprawling across the dirt covered floor. Neville stood above him, looking down with a cold look that Draco thought only his father could maintain. The Gryffindor rolled his eyes once, before calmly walking away. Draco laid in the dirt a second longer, before jumping to his feet and dusting off his robes.

After leaving the greenhouses, he spotted Neville in the quad. The cool prescience the boy had resonated was gone, replaced by the usual nervousness. Draco watched with confusion and some amusement as Neville tripped over the cobblestone floor. Shaking his head, he muttered to himself, "How is it he acts so differently in the greenhouses?"

"Aye, that's Neville for you." That annoying Irish voice spoke up from behind him. Draco spun around, sending a death glare at Seamus, who looked like he was just getting back from the quidditch pitch.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Draco grounded out.

"Well, herbology is his element, now isn't it? Neville feels comfortable there." Seamus shrugged. "Why do you think me and Dean let you go there in the first place?"

"Excuse me?"

"We've always wanted to see Neville lay into you." Seamus broke into a wide grin and gestured at Draco's face. "And looks like he did."

"Bugger off." Draco hissed, before turning around and stomping gracefully away. Seamus didn't even wait until he was out of earshot before breaking down into loud guffaws.