Ginny ran into Neville reading in the common room. By himself, to her relief. She wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone closer to Dean right now.
"So, who're you gonna date next?" he asked.
"Whoever I want," said Ginny, flipping her hair as she settled on the couch beside him.
He seemed surprised, considering he'd asked. "You sure you don't want to be single for a while?"
"I've been single most of my life."
"I know, it's just. . ." He trailed off, looking concerned. She faced him, feeling worried.
He continued. "At the rate you're going, you might run out of guys before you graduate."
The fact that he managed to say this with perfect eye contact and a straight face was unbelievable.
She brought her leg up to the couch and wielded it at his shoulder, kicking. "I. Take. Back. EVERY nice thing. I have EVER SAID ABOUT YOU-"
He pulled farther down the couch laughing as she stretched her leg to keep mock kicking him.
"Well, guys worth dating, anyway-"
"You'd think I had dated more than three guys!"
"Who was three?"
"Dean?"
"I thought he was two "
"Oh, that's how it is." She rolled her eyes. "Anyway, you wouldn't spread rumors around, would you?"
He immediately sobered. "No way, it's bad news doing that."
"What do you think of Justin?" She asked. "Hufflepuff, your year."
"Oh, he is kind of cute," said Neville, impressed.
She eyed him with interest, but stayed on topic. "I met him in the library the other day. If I could get him alone I might talk to him and see where that goes."
Neville nodded approval. Probably, anyway. If he had any kind of opinion about Ginny trying to tongue a guy she'd never spoken to one on one, he kept it to himself, which was one of about three reasons she could speak to him like this. Luna's opinions on boys usually amounted to speculation on how many nargles were hiding in their uncleaned hair.
"Any changes on that thing we were worried about?" She asked.
"Like what?" Neville stated at a page in his book more than at Ginny.
She watched him accusingly. "You were the one saying it would be more useful to keep track of what he's doing than tell him to stop."
Neville was being furtive, leaning forward over his book. "He hasn't talked to me about it."
Ginny prodded his arm with one foot. Neville was glaring at his precious book at this point. "I don't see why you're worried about it," he informed her quietly, "You were the one calling Malfoy soft."
"For the Death Eaters, yeah." Ginny scooted next to him so she could speak clearly at low volume, but slouched back to look casual anyway. "I'm telling you, he's not getting in that crowd. But if Harry does something stupid, you know the prat will kick up a fuss."
"If Harry tells me he's going to, I don't know, do anything worse than we do to him in Defence, I will make him take me along, and I'll physically knock out Harry Potter if I have to," Neville assured her with poor enthusiasm. "Unless Malfoy really needs it and we won't get caught," he added stubbornly.
Ginny clicked her tongue. "Good man."
/
Harry spent the next week checking for the snake once a day, but most days it was absent. Snakes were independent creatures, he supposed, like owls. Couldn't expect it to beg for his attention. The one day he did find it was a sunny day that couldn't maintain a complete chill on the stones. He greeted it in surprise, but it only flicked its tongue lazily at him and went back to sleep.
Even without Harry asking him to hang out that week, there was no way to predict when Neville might show up in the greenhouse, prompting Harry to duck. He wondered vaguely why it was so hard to stop sneaking around, or even start a conversation about Neville's primary interest, but he simply didn't know where to begin. Starting a conversation with the risk of coming off like he wasn't interested seemed like the worst kind of insult, especially since Neville didn't share much about his interests. He settled for chasing the Hufflepuff snake as an excuse to keep an eye on the area.
To his surprise, the snake did in fact approach him on the next sunny afternoon that he checked for it.
"Human. You have entered the great shiny," it hissed. After looking over at the shining glass walls, he understood.
"At times, yes."
"There have been mice and many insects, crawling into it through not just their little holes but the big ones the humans use, yes. I cannot enter so unnoticed. Many times now, humans have seen me and attacked. Would you allow me to enter as you do?"
The absurdity of the situation was counteracted by how blissfully straightforward it was. "Follow me."
The door was unlocked, but no one was visible as they entered and he closed it behind the snake. Harry idled halfway through the greenhouse, letting the Hufflepuff snake keep pace. He glanced around as he went, until Trevor the toad croaked plaintively at him from under a ludicrously orange flower. Neville's head shot up from behind vegetation about three rows down.
"Pro-oh, Harry!" He shouted. "What's going on?"
Harry sped over. "Uh, hey!"
The ear muffs were gone. Neville wasn't even wearing robes now, just a muggle t shirt with trainers and durable pants, the latter severely stained. He was pulling a rubber band off a bag of fertilizer while he looked at Harry expectantly.
"Meet my new friend," Harry gestured with his leg. Unfortunately the snake was farther than he'd thought behind him and slithering in a different direction with fervor. He grit his teeth. "Or not."
He dodged around plant beds and rushed to catch up, hearing the murmur of a predator's excitement. "I will feassst. . ."
"If you want to stay you have to introduce yourself!" Harry demanded in an awkward run.
"My dinner is in here. . ."
"Be polite and the humans in here will be polite to you," he hissed loudly, stooping to see under a shelf on the wall. "Then you can come in every day."
The snake finally returned to his side. "Make it quick."
Neville was already there when Harry looked behind him. "It just wants to eat bugs and stuff from in here. It asked to use the door."
Neville nodded slowly, face unmoving. The snake raised itself and bowed its head at Neville before returning to the hunt.
Harry scuffed his shoe on the floor. He hadn't planned this far ahead. It was too quiet.
Neville broke the silence first. "They eat lots of pests and stuff. Aphids, mice, even things stronger than they are if they can poison them."
"I will make sure it doesn't eat Trevor," Harry burst out, alarmed.
"Oh, Trevor's magicked against venoms and stuff," Neville explained. "He doesn't have much problem with snakes. He's so big for a toad, he just sits on them."
Harry nodded. He tried to look like he was thinking about something specific instead of just struggling to talk. "I could come in with it just to, uh, keep track of-"
The snake appeared at Harry's elbow with satisfaction. "I hope you're happy," he scolded.
Neville made a strained huffing noise and cracked into half a smile. Harry stared and realized he must have been trying not to look amused for a while.
"It might've been someone's pet before," said Neville sheepishly, clearly determined to be polite. "If it's a garden snake, its not native."
"Really?" Harry turned to the snake. "Are you from across the seas?"
"I was born in a cage, and traded away for gold," it hissed. "But I made it to this forest from the castle. My first victory."
"How brave of you," Harry praised it. "You're not a pet at all."
Neville frowned at their unintelligible exchange. "If it goes running around by itself, it better not give Trevor any ideas."
Harry considered this a lost cause. The snake flicked its tongue and said "let me smell you."
Harry offered his finger, only to find the snake licking it. He bent to get a better look, trying to get a sense of how the tongue was shaped.
Neville was enjoying this. "Ask it to stay, would you? They're good for the dirt," he snickered, "like worms."
"Worms? It's not a worm."
Neville stifled a laugh. He was playing with the rubber band, pulling it out over one finger and thumb and repeatedly stretching it with the other hand. "Well, you're both welcome in here."
To Harry's delight, he didn't mind the two of them entering unannounced and wandering about while he worked. Harry found it more interesting than he could have hoped to hang around the greenhouse. It eliminated the need to ask awkward questions, as Neville was thrilled to talk idly about anything he worked on while Harry did homework. Harry decided he preferred visual learning to conversation alone; plants had never been more interesting than when Neville was manhandling them. It was like an herbology lesson where Harry got to sit in the sun and watch Neville inadvertently smudge dirt over his nose.
Harry had seen him in muggle clothes before, but not gardening. The t shirt allowed him to watch the way Neville moved, which Harry did less than politely over his next visits. Something about the lot of them hitting puberty had made boys his age look a lot more interesting, but the two of them were also built rather differently. Neville's soft, stocky back appeared unexpectedly unfamiliar.
He pretended to be very interested in the windows whenever Neville faced him.
"Do you get extra credit for helping out?" Harry inquired one afternoon.
"Nah, I just like it in here. Last year I was coming in to talk to Sprout or just visit these guys-" Neville gestured an elbow at the greenery coated shelves, beaming- "so often she gave me a key and said I could come in whenever!"
And I bet the Slytherins don't wander in here for fun, Harry thought to himself, fully aware that Sprout and McGonagall just happened to be good friends.
When Harry did ask questions, Neville would answer absolutely anything with the sort of long explanations Harry hadn't come to expect from him since first year. They would leave for the night with Neville glowing from hard work and Harry glowing with something else.
/
Only so much could distract Harry from Malfoys odd behavior, though he had considerable trouble picking things that would not incriminate him if Ginny or someone found out he'd told Neville.
"Since when am I a blood traitor, anyway? I'm half blood."
"He meant your family," said Neville while staring moodily at an unwanted vine that flinched from his grasp. When Harry didn't respond, he clarified. "Your dad's family, the Potters."
"They were pureblood, right? Like you and Malfoy." He wondered how much fun someone would have in a kindly, well to do magical family. James Potter the teenager had certainly been joyful and confident.
Neville snorted for some reason. "I am NOT pureblood like Malfoy."
"But you are pureblood."
"My mum isn't. She's half blood."
"Okay? What, they don't like your mom?"
"It means. . ." He trailed off, looking upset. "You don't really want to hear about that stuff, do you?" Neville asked in bitter embarrassment. "Blood purity."
"I guess not," Harry said. Neville instantly relaxed, and an aggressive vine that had been regarding him stilled. "Uh, I don't wanna distract you," Harry apologized.
Neville grabbed deep in the cluster of wandering Devil's Snare, and his hand reappeared grasping an especially thick tendril with many finer shoots that reached for his arm. "No, it's fine! Keeps me focused, honestly. This gets repetitive."
A flattering voice resonated from the nearest door. "Spare a moment for me, Pomona?"
Harry dove for his books and pulled them out of sight with him. Neville looked at him like he was ridiculous but squirmed himself when Slughorn approached.
"Longbottom? Not sneaking around, I hope," Slughorn chided him with exaggerated disappointment.
Neville shrunk into himself. "Professor Sprout knows I'm in here, she's a bit busy to handle. . .busywork."
"Oh, why, I didn't realize Pomona had students helping her." Slughorn checked Neville over in interest.
"Just weeding," Neville intoned blandly, edging towards a plant that looked less aggressive. "I think she's having an early dinner so she can plant. . . something at dusk."
The tone he took was intriguing, given that an hour ago he'd been bursting with excitement that Sprout was going to let him observe and take notes while she planted some root mushroom thing that would ignite if exposed to any direct light.
"If I head back to the castle now, I might catch her. I needed to know if she had any Mandrake root, most of our old supply got used up at some point."
"I'm sure she'll be happy to discuss it," Neville said in a final way, and decided to watch his own feet non-descriptly. This had the intended effect, and Slughorn bid Neville good afternoon as he closed the door.
Harry stayed sitting behind the same row Neville worked at. "Glad that's over with."
"Mandrake root, huh?" Neville said wistfully.
Harry wracked his brain, then swallowed. "Hermione'd've been a goner without that stuff."
Neville appraised him. "Ginny'd've been a real goner if you hadn't killed that basilisk. The school could've closed."
A familiar place in Harry's gut started to squirm. "We should've brought a real teacher with us. I only lived because Dumbledore's phoenix showed up to save me."
Neville looked at him, amazed. "You should hear the stuff you say sometimes."
Suddenly Harry wished Neville had said he should've talked to a teacher instead. He scrambled for a new subject. "You would've liked Potions with Slughorn, y'know. I wish you'd taken it. He's nothing like Snape."
Neville's face fell and stared at him in contention.
"He's not GREAT, but the class is good."
Neville's expression was unyielding.
"Okay, he's a pompous git," said Harry, exasperated.
Neville looked away, pulling on the vine he'd abandoned halfway through uprooting it. "You realize Slughorn is the kind of person who puts a lot of stock in what I just got done saying? The strength of bloodlines?"
"I know, and it's annoying but he's no Death Eater, right?" For all that Harry disliked Slughorn, he wasn't clear on why Neville would dislike him more. Perhaps because they were in the greenhouse, Neville offered a full explanation.
"Not everyone has to be a Death Eater to be full of it," he said flippantly. "There's a reason the Malfoys and the Blacks are always talking about how they're the only true wizarding families with pride. Malfoy doesn't like my family because intermarrying with non-purebloods is. . .seen as making the family impure.
"To people like. . .them, and my dad's family, my bloodline is seen as," Neville grimaced, "diluted. Since I have so much muggle blood, they thought I might be a squib. So when I didn't show signs, they started. . .doing weird stuff."
Neville didn't continue right away, gently separating an entanglement of different roots. "Like what?" Harry asked stubbornly.
"Just," Neville was starting to look at him again, "scaring me randomly, putting my hand over the fireplace. My great uncle kicked me off a pier one time."
Neville seemed odd when he mentioned the last part. Harry couldn't place why. "Did you swim out okay?"
He shook his head. "I couldn't swim yet. He said he was gonna teach me how, then he came up behind me, and then he just sat back and watched. I almost drowned before Gran found us."
This was disturbing, even by Harry's standards. Harry couldn't remember the Dursleys attempting to commit murder. "He tried to drown you?"
Neville looked shocked. He shot into more detail with embarrassment. "No, of course not! That wasn't-I mean, the point was to see if I had magic. Then every time something happened and I didn't do magic it was just another reason to do it again," Neville shrugged.
None of that actually disputed what he'd been asked. Harry wasn't done being horrified. "But I thought your family wasn't like the Malfoys-"
"They're not, they don't follow You-Know-Who. They just don't want non-magical people in the family." Neville elaborated, "they don't mind muggleborns. As long as you've got magic, it doesn't matter what your lineage is. But a diluted wizard linage means the family might be affected, and in my case I wasn't, enough for them, I guess, until they knew I had magic."
The image of Merope Gaunt on the floor while her father taunted her appeared in Harry's mind.
"I love my family, but it's," Neville looked deeply uncomfortable, halfheartedly examining the plantbed without working, "hard to talk to them."
They were quiet for a time. "I don't get it," Harry's voice cracked from where he was sitting, "they could've killed you-"
"I said it's not like that."
"But they did all that dangerous stuff just to, what, test you? How's that love? If you have a hard time talking to them, have you talked about it?"
"It's not that simple," Neville answered firmly. "They're pretty set about stuff, it's not easy to argue with them."
"So you just don't talk about it anymore? It doesn't bother you? How can you love them if you can't talk to them about-"
Neville interrupted him shortly. "Not everyone can talk to their family and have some logical argument about things. That doesn't mean I'm going to stop liking them."
"How?! This isn't like some prank toy you're hiding under your bed-"
Neville was angry, viciously. "I can't just talk to my parents and have an argument with them, I still love them!"
"That's-" Harry sputtered, confused how or why Neville had started glaring at him. He had never brought up his parents on his own before. "Neville, I'm sorry," Harry said for lack of a better option.
Neville glared at him a while longer. He was blatantly still upset when he clenched his jaw and gazed around in a sort of lost way. Finally, he went back to weeding. With the sun gone down and the silence aching, Harry had no idea what to do except leave.
/
He couldn't make head or tail of how their argument had gone the way it did. When they talked, Neville was distantly cheerful again, like Harry had never been to the greenhouse in the first place. Harry retreated to watching the map for potential Death Eaters at any spare moment.
Why didn't Neville hold those attitudes against his family when he'd brought it up complaining about Slughorn? Maybe you don't understand what a family is, said a little voice in Harry's head. Yours never showed you.