Author's Note: Written for the Hogwarts Forum Winter Funfair!
No Warnings Apply.
Disclaimer: I do not own the world of Harry Potter, nor its characters.
Neville had been huddled up in the Astronomy Tower for a few hours now. Almost everyone had gone home for Christmas-everyone except for the Eighth Years. They wanted to spend the very last holiday inside the walls of Hogwarts, revelling in the comfort of a peaceful year. There were no Death Eaters or Dark Marks or screams echoing up from the dungeons. In fact, the only thing that echoed up from the dungeons was the voice of the Bloody Baron, who had grown suddenly festive this year and started his own carolling service.
"Thought I'd find you up here."
Neville turned his head in time to see Harry come up the stairs. He was still wearing his school shirt, though his robes were gone, and he smiled when Neville gave him a small wave.
"I finished studying a while ago," Neville admitted. "I just didn't want to go back to the dorm and listen to Seamus talk about Dean's toenails, or whatever he's fascinated with now."
Harry snorted, joining him on the floor of the Astronomy Tower. This place gave Neville the chills, and he wasn't even the one who was here when Dumbledore fell. He watched Harry scan the balcony and the stars beyond it, and felt a pang of guilt for making him trek all the way up here.
"We shouldn't stay up here too long though," Neville said quickly, reaching out to gather his books. "It's late, and there's no hot chocolate, which is a crime—"
"Neville."
He stopped speaking. Harry took his hand and squeezed it.
"It's fine." Harry breathed out, long and slow. "I don't mind it up here."
Neville wasn't so sure, but too many people ignored what Harry had to say, and too many people presumed they knew what was best for him. He wasn't going to be like those people, so he simply laced their fingers together properly.
"Did you come up here just to look for me?" Neville asked.
"I'm bored," Harry said, with a wry smile that explained that he was not bored, in fact, but exhausted by the endless stream of well-wishing and gratitude and the post that came to his window every hour. "Entertain me."
"How do you expect me to do that?"
"I'm glad you asked." And there it was, a proper grin, one that looked at home in a joke shop or a dark, wicked theatre. It was there and gone in a flash, but Neville loved it. He felt his face heat up even as Harry parted their hands and chuckled, dipping into his trouser pocket for a small box.
"Oh," Neville said, blinking in surprise. "Basilisks and Broomsticks. I haven't seen that in ages."
Basilisks and Broomsticks was a game. It was usually aimed at small Witches and Wizards, something for them to pass the time with. Harry flipped it over to read the back of the box and then shrugged, opening it up to pull out the pieces. Small wooden broomsticks spilled from the box, about the length of a pinky finger. There were miniature basilisks too, each one hollow enough to make a light tinkling sound when they clattered to the floor.
Harry picked one up and examined it. "Looks nothing like a real one."
Most people haven't seen a real one and lived to talk about it. It was on the tip of Neville's tongue, but he didn't say it. Harry often dropped pieces of his past like they were common knowledge, and they were, but they shouldn't have been treated so ordinarily by him. Fighting a Basilisk at twelve years old wasn't normal. It was terrifying and unfair. But drawing attention to it only made Harry tense and unsure, and Neville didn't want that.
"You should send a letter in," Neville suggested quietly. "Tell them Harry Potter is dissatisfied with the basilisks, and wants a refund, thanks very much."
Harry snorted with laughter, putting the piece down with the others. "I think they might cry. I got it in a cracker, too, so they'd have to refund the whole school."
When the board was set up, Harry shuffled until he was cross-legged on the other side of it, facing Neville. With the starlight behind him, he was cast in shadow, but there was enough light to see the strange happiness in his face. Tired, but almost excited by a children's board game. It made Neville feel excited too, something in his heart melting at the sight.
"As far as I can tell, it's the same as Snakes and Ladders." Harry shook the dice in his cupped hands, brow furrowed. "You roll the dice and move along the board, but if you land on the basilisk, your piece gets swallowed up, and if you land on a broomstick, it flies you closer to the winning square, right?"
"I think that's the gist. Sometimes we would play stuff like this at Christmas, but Gran isn't really one for games." Neville paused. "Or fun."
"I kind of got that impression."
Neville reached over the board to shove him gently, and Harry moved with the shove, swaying back with a light in his eyes. He reached out and pulled Neville in, kissing him soundly over the board. His lips were warm and dry. He tasted a bit like chapstick, like chemical fruit, but it wasn't bad. Neville's heart still caught in his throat, and he was still flushed when he sat back down with a bump.
He cleared his throat. "Cheat."
Harry laughed again, quieter than before. "We haven't even started yet."
"Then roll the dice so I can prove you're a cheater."
The dice rolled, and the pieces began to move. Every time Harry landed on a broomstick, which seemed to be often, his little round counter was picked up and sailed a few squares ahead, bobbing along over the board. Every time Neville landed on a basilisk, which seemed to be every other turn, it swallowed his little round counter and slithered a few squares away, spitting him back out near the start. It got so bad that Neville eventually snatched up the box and read the back frantically.
"The basilisks aren't supposed to move!" Neville stared at the board, where a basilisk was sneaking closer and closer to the square he was about to land on. "You're doing this, aren't you?"
"I have no idea what you mean," Harry said, but Neville could see the tip of his wand hidden up his sleeve.
"We're starting again," Neville insisted, though he couldn't help the way his mouth turned up while Harry grinned opposite him. "I'm keeping an eye on you, Potter."
"Wouldn't have it any other way."
Neville flushed as he rearranged the pieces. If anyone had told him when he started this whole thing that Harry Potter was a massive flirt, he probably would have laughed. He spent almost seven years sharing a dormitory with Harry. He was there for every girl-involved fiasco. Harry's method of flirting was offering chocolate frogs or Quidditch lessons, and he never seemed to know when someone was flirting back.
But whether it was the weight of the war lifted from his shoulders, or the sudden appearance of free time, something had happened. Harry was still tired and wary and a little downtrodden, but he was also carefree in a way he hadn't been before. He teased Neville all the time. He liked his company, and they often sat together in quiet places, hands loosely joined, enjoying peace and quiet.
The flirting, though, was not peaceful or quiet. It didn't disturb the comfortable atmosphere, but it did make Neville fumble everything when it was so straightforward and matter-of-fact.
They played a few more rounds. Neville kept meticulous track of their scores and refused to let Harry's wand anywhere near the dice, or the pieces. He was still losing, but at least he didn't land on every snake. The night grew even darker around them, more stars popping up here and there, and eventually Harry sent a flurry of floating orbs into the air, lighting up the Astronomy Tower. Laughter was easy to come by here, but somewhere near the end of the fourth game, Harry grew quieter. His smile took a different turn, something aching and lost in the past.
"The Dursley's didn't let me join in when they played stuff like this," he murmured, prodding his piece across the board. "It wasn't often, mind you. Dudley was more into computer games and going out with his mates, but sometimes they would play games, or rounds of cards. Especially at Christmas. Aunt Marge liked poker. It's not like I wanted to spend more time around them, but it's always… I don't know. It's always worse when you know there's no place for you even if you wanted to join in."
Neville felt like his chest was full of snow, cold and sharp. He pictured a small, messy-haired boy standing uncertainly in a dark doorway, watching as a family laughed around the table, playing games with their bellies full of food, and he grit his jaw. He didn't like it. His own home life hadn't exactly been perfect, but there was always someone for Neville to talk to, and he didn't go hungry, and he wasn't ignored. Sometimes it felt like they expected too much of him, or they had given up on expecting anything of him, but somewhere between the two expectations, there was a comfortable middle ground, where Neville lived.
"We can play games, then," Neville said suddenly. "Every Christmas. We'll do a games night."
Harry looked up, his fingers stilling on the board. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. There's loads of Wizard games that aren't chess, like Pass the Puffskein, or Hungry Hungry Hippogriffs. We can play all of them." Neville had gotten so invested in the image of a tiny Harry Potter that he had forgotten about the one in front of him, and he flushed again, looking away. Hastily, he added, "I mean, if you want to. I know you've got Ron and Hermione and the rest of the Weasley's, and plenty of people to play games with, so I get it, if you don't want to—"
Harry gently rolled the dice his way until they knocked against his thigh, cutting him off.
"Game's night sounds perfect," Harry murmured. "I'll bring the cards."
Neville's heart soared. He blinked at Harry from underneath his lashes, relieved and warm, and said, "I'll bring the Cheat-Proof dice."
"Hey," Harry said, laughing slightly. "I don't cheat."
"You sit on a throne of lies." Neville's smile grew wider the more Harry laughed. "That's what you do. You sit there and lie and cheat. C'mon, it's your turn. Let me guess, you're gonna magically bypass the basilisk on your next turn, aren't you?"
Harry stopped laughing for long enough to wink at him, snatching up the dice. "Magic happens, Nev."