"Pst! This way." Neville beckoned Harry to follow him into one of the old out houses.
"Thanks, Neville. I've had enough excitement to last me a life time, and it's your party, not mine. I'm sorry."
"It's all right, Harry. I never wanted a fuss made over me anyway. I don't like the attention either."
"This is nice," said Harry looking around the small converted shed at the simple, but comfortable looking furniture.
"Yeah, I like to come here to get away once in a while. Had it since I was little. I wanted a tree house, but Gran was always worried I'd fall out and hurt myself."
"All I had was a broom cupboard," said Harry. He pulled Neville by the sleeve over to some comfy looking cushions on the floor and de-corked a bottle of wine, pouring some into glasses he'd brought out with him.
"It's just the place to hide out for a while and toast ourselves in peace. Many happy returns: may our next 18 be less fraught with evil, reptilian, bug-eyed, Dark Lords!"
"To us!" answered Neville.
As they got merry, the two young men reminisced about their not so distant schools days and shared their hopes for the future.
Laughing, their heads knocked, "Sorry", they said, pulling back.
Looking up, their eyes met and Harry leaned forward just a fraction. He cold see the red stain of the wine on Neville's lips and tipsily he wondered if it would taste as good from Neville, as from the glass.
NOTES: Written for a LiveJournal ficlet challenge community in 2003.
CHAL: Harry and Neville share their 18th birthday.