~That Night~
Neville was late, Neville was always late.
But he couldn't believe, that today, of all days he was running late. He had promised Professor Sprout he'd wrap everything up over an hour ago, but then he repotted mandrakes, and then decided to trim some Sneezewort for the apothecary and the next thing he knew it was 7:05.
He quickly grabbed his coat and threw his maroon scarf loosely around his neck before locking up the greenhouse.
He was already 5 minutes late to the Ministry, and he couldn't stop berating himself as he ran toward the anti-apparition wards at Hogwarts. This was such an important night, to himself and Professor Sprout. He'd hate to let his mentor down.
Once he felt the shift in the air indicating he had made it past the castle's protection wards, he felt the pull behind his belly button as he apparated to an alley near the Ministry. He quickly looked around, double checking that any Muggles hadn't accidentally seen something they shouldn't have, before he made to cross the street.
Neville ran towards the entrances, found an empty stall, climbed into the toilet and promptly flushed himself.
He stepped out of the floo and took a quick glance around the atrium, hoping for a sign to lead him in the right direction. Just as he was about to give up and send a Patronus for help, he saw a board that read, 'Potions and their Purposes.'
Neville made a dash towards the door it was near, and flung it open quickly, his breathing labored from the sprint here. He was quickly greeted by a small room filled with chairs and about 30 pairs of eyes trained on him.
He felt his cheeks flush beat red, embarrassed at the unprofessionalism he just displayed. Neville looked around and soon found an empty chair near the back, and he ducked his head down as he made his way towards it.
Soon, the attention was off the young man, and he quickly found himself engulfed in the lecture being presented. Though, after graduation, Neville found himself as an apprentice for Professor Sprout studying herbology, this lecture was something he had been looking forward to for weeks. The potioneer had been doing research on ways to enhance the strength of magical plants, and Neville was excited for the opportunities this could present him and his mentor.
The lecture was interesting to say the least, and as it drew to an end, he heard the lecturer announce another talk she'd be holding next week. Neville needn't think about it, he knew he was signing up right away. So, he remained in his chair until the room was mostly cleared out and made his way to the front to gather more details on next week's lecture.
He waited patiently while the woman received another thanks for tonight's lecture, before it was his turn to approach her.
"I'm so sorry for being late, I lost track at work I'm afraid. But I found your lecture extremely interesting and was hoping to gather the details regarding the next one?" he asked the red-headed witch.
"Oh! Of course, hmm…" she said as she thrummed through some parchment before settling on a flier for the next lecture, "here you are! Are you a potioneer?" the woman asked him, and Neville noticed she had moved closer to him.
"No, I'm actually an apprentice for Professor Sprout at Hogwarts, not sure if you went there or not…" he responded, feeling slightly uncomfortable at the woman's heated glaze.
"Yes, I know Professor Sprout, I was a student there many moons ago, though I must admit it's been some time since I've seen her. Tell me, why didn't she come tonight?"
"Ah, well she's been helping Hagrid care for his garden. This winter hasn't been kind to his cabbages, and he's been running out of food for his creatures. She asked I come in her place; I hope I didn't miss too much with the late entrance?"
"Nothing that can't be discussed over drinks," she said with a wink, her voice ending with a tilt, almost like a question, and he assumed she was searching for his name.
"Neville, and yes, it's the least I can do for being so rude," he responded, his throat growing dry.
"Great! There's a lovely muggle pub around the corner. Call me Lily."
~November 1999~
Neville sat at the bar, his firewhiskey growing warm as time passed. He had been here for hours, and he was sure Luna was going to come looking for him any moment. Neville had promised he'd stop mopping, but as the holidays drew near, the hole in his heart was opening up again. So, like always, he found himself at The Three Broomsticks, showing up after his final class of the day, and sitting until Rosmerta called his roommate to come get him.
He heard the stool next to him scrap against the wooden floor, and then turned to Luna before she could cast that sad look at him. The two sat quietly for a moment while he twirled the warm liquid in the tumbler.
"It hurts, why does it always hurt?" he asked her, the alcohol making him bold.
Maybe he wanted to hear the answer, maybe he didn't, but he knew Luna would give him what he needed anyway.
"Love hurts, Neville," Luna whispered quietly back. He accepted these words, tossing them around, comparing them to the memories he cherished of their time together.
"I miss her."
"I know you do, healing isn't linear, it comes in waves," the blonde said with a sad smile, and she rested her head on her friend's shoulder. He let Luna's warmth fill the cold hole in his chest, the never ending emptiness he felt. "Let's get you home, Ginny was starting to worry."
~That Night~
The couple entered the bar, it was relatively empty. But Neville supposed it was a Tuesday night, so that made sense.
They found a high-top table in the corner, and Neville helped Lily remove her coat before moving to the bar, grabbing them both a pint.
When he returned to the table, he set the cool glass down in front of the red-head, and sat opposite her, letting the alcohol warm his chest.
He didn't drink much, never quite had the taste for it. His roommate, Harry, always teased him about it when they had friends over. He knew it was all in good fun, and he never minded sitting with Hermione on the couch, laughing as all their old friends from Hogwarts got properly smashed.
But he was nervous, and he was okay to admit that. Lily was a rather attractive witch for her age, she was older, he could tell. She was utterly genius for her discoveries with potions, she was on the verge of seriously changing the applications for potions in the wizarding world. And of all people, she was flirting with him, hard.
He tried to brush off her small touches, and overly excited laughs at his awful jokes. But when she laced her arm through his as they walked toward the pub and brushed a lock of his hair from his forehead, he decided that he wasn't making this up. No witch had ever paid attention to Neville in school, he was always quiet and dorky. And when he finally hit a growth spurt, and his awkward features turned in something worth noticing, he started an apprenticeship at Hogwarts, and all hopes of being around a woman he'd find interesting was soon occupied with helping first years properly plant a Mandrake.
So, he decided to drink tonight, despite knowing the affect it would have on him, how quickly he'd succumb to it. Neville took another large gulp, hoping the alcohol would soon kick in, ease the nerves gathering in his chest.
The alcohol had done its job, his memory going in and out as the night progressed. They had discussed Hogwarts, and some other notable findings in the wizarding world and their impact on their related fields. He thinks they may have also discussed his future role on the Wizengamot, but he wasn't sure.
Neville vaguely remembers leading her out the pub, to the nearest apparition point. He does remember his hand on her back, pushing her against the wall in an abandoned alley, her hands getting tangled in his hair as she pulls his head down to hers.
A kiss, gentle and timid. Another, rough and needy.
The kiss had flooded Neville's senses, clearing all the alcohol from his body, his brain becoming clear once again. All his thoughts revolved around her; she was all-consuming. So, when the moan escaped her lips, Neville let his urges take over.
He let his hand slide down to her bum, grabbing at the soft flesh while their tongues explored each other.
"Should we go back to yours?" Lily uttered breathlessly as Neville's mouth made contact with her neck, sucking on the soft skin gently.
"Maybe not. Roommate," he responded begrudgingly.
"Sure… Mine then?"
"Thought you didn't life here?" Neville asked, a slight pinch in his chest as he realized he had been lied to, but the growing distraction in his trousers was drawing most of his attention.
"Don't," Lily said as her chest heaved against his, the movement driving him wild. "I kept my old flat, it was paid off anyway."
Neville let a smile hit his face as Lily pulled him back down to her, her soft lips crushing his in desperate need. "Lead on."
~The Next Morning~
Neville awoke the next morning to a creak in the floorboards and a ray of light blinding him as it peeked out from the curtains.
"Oh, I didn't think you'd be up so early," Lily said delicately. "You can go back to sleep, I'm just stepping out to meet someone for coffee, I should be back in an hour."
"No, no, just let me get dressed and I'll leave with you," Neville responded through a yawn as he pushed his feet to the floor. He walked around and found various articles of clothing strewn throughout the space. He was missing a sock, but it wasn't the end of the world.
Once he had his coat on he followed Lily to the front door, slipping his boots on as he stepped through the entryway.
"I'm so sorry, I wouldn't have stayed so late if I knew you had somewhere to be," he said nervously. Had he messed it up? He wanted to see her again…
"Oh, don't worry about it! I honestly forgot until this morning!" Lily said nonchalantly as she flipped one end of her scarf over her shoulder before digging into her purse for her keys.
Neville's eyes traced the bare skin of her neck while she locked the door behind them, only looking away when she turned back around.
"Sorry, I didn't realize it was yours when I put it on, but when I realized how long it was…"
"No matter, it looks good on you," he said with a wink, and noticed his Gryffindor scarf for the first time. He had forgotten he wore it last night; hell he was surprised he even remembered his name this morning. "I'll just grab it next time I see you?"
"Oh! Yes! Let me get your number really quick," she said pulling out a silver flip phone and handing it over to him. Neville programmed his number in quietly while they walked out of the building. It was lucky Hermione had gifted them all cell phones last Christmas. He hadn't used it, couldn't really figure the bloody thing out.
But she had insisted it would be easy for them to keep in contact after Hogwarts. Ginny probably used hers the most out of them all, she was constantly sending little messages to the group, and random pictures of things she found interesting, which happened to be most things. At any rate, he was thankful for the little machine in this moment, because now he'd get to see her again, maybe even call her if she wanted?
"Great," she said with a smile as she took her phone back. "Call me soon?"
He watched as the redhead disappeared in the alleyway with a silent pop.
~February 1999~
He smiled at the redheaded witch as she made her way around the Hogwarts greenhouse. He was amazed at how quickly a month had flown by with her. She was perplexing and magical in a way he'd never experienced. Lily was excitement and adventure, but she felt like home.
Neville was content to watch her explore his greenhouse after a long walk around the frozen lake, he didn't know if he'd ever tire of her sweet disposition.
"It's been so long since I've been back... I honestly never thought I would," she said, examining his plants, touching them with gentle care.
"And why's that?" he asked from his stool, studying her as if she may disappear, savoring every moment he could.
"The Wizarding War. I lost a lot of people… I just, couldn't stay in England," she responded with a sad look, rubbing the top of a Chinese Chomping Cabbage, and he could tell she was gone her memories.
"Where did you go?" he asked, the pain in his chest was beginning to grow at her grief.
"Everywhere," she responded with a small smile. "I found myself in Bulgaria, then Japan, then New Zealand, Hungary, and Russia, and Canada."
"Sounds wonderful," he responded, watching her glow against the dreary backdrop of a Scottish winter.
"It was, truly. Thank you for bringing me here, Neville. It was almost… cathartic and do tell Pomona that I'd love to see her again sometime," Lily said as she began putting her wool coat on over her green sweater.
"And, what about me? Would you love to see me too?" Neville asked, a growing confidence blooming in his chest.
Lily smiled at him, but she seemed thrown off by his question. "Well, I guess I know where to find you," she said with a wink before disappearing into the growing night.
Neville stared at her, engulfed by her always. By her wisdom, her experiences, her mystery. She had lived so much, and was still so closed off, full of secrets and mystery. But Neville didn't care, he was willing to work for it. Willing to show her all he could be, if she'd let him.
He wasn't sure when his feelings had changed. From indifference to adoration, the flip had hit him in a flash, and he no longer could identify what they were, what they were doing. But Neville didn't mind. He never would.
He felt like he was burning alive every time he was with her, and it never really mattered, not even if she was the one holding the flame.
~December 1999~
"Nev," Ginny whined on the couch across from him. "Please come! Hermione put a lot of work into this dinner, and Harry will maim us if she's disappointed."
"No," Neville answered dully. He couldn't go to Harry's, not after what happened.
"It's almost been a year," Ginny dragged. "Harry's not even angry, not even a little."
"What if she's there?" he asked blankly, his eyes moving away from Ginny, moving towards the wall behind her head. When he looked past her, letting his eyes come unfocused, it was like… like Lily was there instead. Like she hadn't left.
He liked that, liked to pretend.
Maybe they'd have stayed together if Harry hadn't found out. But Neville was dumb, had always been so rotten when it came to women. He kept pushing for more from her, begged to take her out, take her on dates. Neville assumed they frequented muggle London because she felt comfortable there, safer; she was muggleborn after all.
And he had been okay taking her to ice cream shops and parks and getting lost at the train stations that didn't make sense or overpaying for the cabs they took to museums.
In hindsight, he'd give anything to have Lily back again. Neville would accept the secret dates, he'd be fine to keep sneaking over to her flat late at night, never staying the night, always gone before the sun came up.
He wishes he hadn't expected more from her, or even wanted more. But he did want more.
Neville loved Lily. And he wanted her forever.
He had spoken to his gran about the witch who stole his heart, had convinced her to let him introduce them despite her arguments that no one would ever be good enough for him.
But Lily was good enough. It was Neville that was the problem, just as he had been his entire life.
Lily never said she wanted to meet his gran, she never even said she wanted to be his girlfriend. But it didn't matter to Neville, he'd accept Lily in whatever ways she gave him. And if it was a moonlight tryst, then he'd happily come to her whenever she called.
He wished he could have been good enough for Lily, and maybe he could have been if he'd only gotten the chance.
Until he let it all fall apart.
She had mentioned having a kid once or twice, but was pretty set on keeping their relationship separate from her personal life. That didn't stop Neville though, he was persistent. He wanted to be in Lily's life completely, even wanted to help be a parent if she'd let him.
Maybe it was manipulative of him to "accidentally" sleep past the alarm from the tiny cell phone he conveniently kept tucked underneath his pile of clothes he left in the bathroom. And perhaps he should have gotten dressed quicker as Lily shuffled him around, throwing the discarded articles at him, panicking as the Sunday sun rose higher.
"Nev! Please, hurry! He doesn't know I'm seeing anyone!" Lily exclaimed frantically as she shoved the brush through her hair, yanking knots out as she went.
"Lily, please. I want to meet him," Neville begged, the desperation obvious in his voice. "I love you, and I want to love whoever you love."
"It's... ugh."
Neville tried to shake the pinch in his chest as he realized for the umpteenth time that she hadn't said those words back.
"It's just... he's not a child anymore. And I haven't introduced him to anyone since his father died, it'd be too hard now," she tried desperately, hoping to convince him to move faster.
He hated the guilt he felt when he thought of Lily's deceased husband. She tended to avoid the conversation, and after a few unsuccessful attempts at soliciting information, Neville decided he was done trying to force her to relive painful memories. At this comment, he started moving just a little quicker to leave. If Lily wasn't ready, that was okay. He could wait.
Neville grabbed his wool coat and reached out for the Gryffindor scarf the couple had made a habit of stealing from the other, it had bounced between them for the last 2 months, not once finding a permanent owner.
He winced at the memory that would follow after and the pain that he knew was imminent.
"Well, I've already told Hermione and Harry you'd be there. So… that's that. Go grab your coat," Ginny said after a moment, breaking him from his final memories with her. He couldn't go to dinner. He wouldn't.
But Ginny left without another word, grabbing her coat before handing him the jumper Luna had knit him. Time had paralyzed him, maybe it was the shock of potentially seeing her, maybe it was the pain he still felt when he remembered the days he still held close.
~March 1999~
"Ne-Neville?" the familiar boy stuttered as he walked through the doorway.
Neville turned to Lily instantly, hoping she could clear up whatever mess this was. She hadn't been kicking him out because she was... seeing Harry, or had she? He didn't want to think of the woman he loved with anyone else, especially not with his best friend.
The coughing of Lily clearing her throat brought him back to Harry.
His roommate, Harry. He had only seen him last night when they split some spaghetti and watched the telly before going off to their respective rooms.
"Harry, this is... well I suppose you know him. But uh, he's a really good friend of mine," Lily stammered awkwardly. "Neville, this is my son, Harry. He looks much more like his father than me, I suppose."
Friend? That was what Lily considered him? And for Harry to be her son and he not know?
They hadn't been close during school, despite being in the same house. The boys had classes together over the years and were always completely amicable when they talked. But as the two potential wizards prophesied to take down the darkest wizard the world had seen, they just... wanted to avoid the attention he supposed. Maybe it would have been natural for them to be friends in school.
But Neville's parents had died in the war, his house decimated by death eaters in the pursuit to find him. His gran had kept him in Canada for a few weeks under Dumbledore's advice, but his parents didn't get that courtesy. They had to stay as a diversion, and they were almost handed to Voldemort like sheep to slaughter.
When the war was over, Neville fell into himself, dejected anything related to the war.
And so, he and Harry never crossed paths. Neville didn't know anything about the boy, didn't know how he handled the night terrors from then, didn't even know if he got night terrors since he still had a family.
A mum, Neville reminded himself, apparently Harry only got his mum.
But they came together through Ginny after school. He and Ginny had broken up when she realized she was gay, but they all remained friends anyway. So when Harry moved out of his shared cottage with Gin, he and Neville decided to get a place together to keep rent affordable. Now, Harry was living with a bloke who was sleeping with his mom. And Neville was seeing the mother of one of his best friends.
What a shite situation to be in.
Neville thought he might throw up at how uncomfortable this whole thing was. But when Lily asked him to leave, he was sure he'd be sick.
"You, you want me to leave?" he asked, dumbfounded as if he hadn't heard her correctly.
Surely this wasn't ideal, but they should probably discuss it at least. He and Lily had been regularly seeing each other for almost three months, if he was going to be around, Harry needed to know.
"Yes. I think you should go, Neville." she said immediately with a look Neville observed to be indifference.
"I'll call you?" he asked stupidly, not sure what else to say or do.
"Sure," was the response he received as she turned toward Harry completely, shutting Neville out.
~December 1999~
Ginny hadn't loosened the iron grip on his wrist the entire night. Not that Neville was complaining really. Ginny was possibly the only thing keeping him grounded as the people around them laughed and chatted about whatever people enjoyed now. He kept glancing at the door, waiting for it to open, hoping he'd get to see the woman who haunted his thoughts again.
He had done his best to ignore Harry, they hadn't spoken since that morning. Neville just went home, packed a bag, and moved in with Luna and Ginny. He didn't want to see Harry and make the situation worse with Lily. So he gave Harry distance, and even gave Lily some as well, waiting for her call.
Neville grew obsessive with his phone, was constantly checking the little screen for a call. a text even.
But they never came.
He showed up at her flat once, desperate to see her. He rang the doorbell and waited nearly an hour before giving up. He called her almost weekly, and could feel himself acting like a man possessed. And no matter how much Ginny tried to convince him to stop, he couldn't.
It was Luna who finally got to him, and explained that Lily had broken up with him and he needed to let go. But he couldn't understand how they could be over, and he definitely didn't want to accept it.
So he gave her space. But eventually the days turned to weeks, then the weeks to months. He wasn't sure he had ever moved on. He'd spend nights in the shower, sitting on the floor of the tub and letting the hot water pour over himself. Sometimes he'd bring a beer in. Other times he'd cry in the dark room, too distracted to even turn the light on.
Lily was all he thought about. He spent the months rehashing every way he went wrong, and analyzed all the ways he'd do it over if given the chance. But he never got the chance.
Eventually he'd notice that he hadn't thought of her for a few days, and wonder why he ever felt so hopeless without her, why he had to resort to excessive drinking and depressive bouts without her. But the cycle would repeat itself, always as viciously as the last time.
"Please stop staring," Ginny begged, and Neville realized he'd once again let himself drift to the safe space that was Lily Evans.
"I'm not," he answered defensively, but focused on the doorframe once again.
"She's not going to come, Nev. I heard she went to Russia for a bit," Ginny whispered to him. "Please, just try to enjoy yourself."
But as Neville tried to turn away from his useless dreams, the door knob turned slightly, and his heart dropped.
He could feel the air leave his lungs as the familiar redhead walked in. She was as beautiful as ever, and once again he felt himself falling for the dream of Lily. He'd forgive the secret dates and the hiding and even scale back on the amount he felt for her, if she'd have him back. He'd never say he loved her, unless she did first. He'd never push her to be included on her life outside of him. He'd climb in through her window instead of using the front door if that's what she wanted.
"Come on, we're leaving." Ginny said as she aggressively tugged his wrist back, and he was sure he had lost blood flow to his hand by now.
"We can't leave, not now... just give me a moment," he replied blindly. Nothing else mattered in this moment. All thoughts came back to Lily. They always would.
"Neville. Now." Luna said firmly. The shock of her arrival was enough to pull him from the blind stupor he had put himself in. It was that statement that brought him back to reality. That comment that had him finally noticing the tall blonde standing behind Lily. His hair curled around his face, a bottle of wine in the hand not holding hers. He looked young, probably the same age as he, maybe a little older. And maybe this should have been enough to deter him, but it was sight of his gryffindor scarf around the bloke's neck that ended the illusion.
His walls came crashing down, everything he had held on to for so long shattered like a million pieces. Because for the first time in months, he remembered the pain she put him through, the one sided affections, the helpless nights where he clung to only empty promises. He remembered it all too well.