The canopy of the four-poster bed was not very captivating when one has been staring at it for what seemed like hours. Harry had drawn the curtains as soon as he'd pulled his sheets over himself, in order to allow Neville the opportunity to pretend he thought Harry was asleep. Neville had apparently seized the opportunity, because some time ago Harry had heard him climb into bed himself.
After contemplating for a while, Harry had decided that "interesting" did not even begin to encompass the revelation of that evening.
He'd known, of course, where his particular sexual preferences lay; you don't make to to forty without realizing what does and doesn't turn you on, after all, especially with a wife as...adventurous...as Ginny. As he had been happily married when he'd come to terms with the fact that really, any naked body would do just fine to set him off, he'd never had the opportunity to fully explore that side of himself. He would have been fully prepared to write this night's incident off as a teenaged body reacting to the rather pleasing stimulus of close contact had it not been for the new stock of thrice-be-damned memories that came with it.
From what he could remember of the suddenly implanted memories, they'd avoided talking directly about anything for the entirety of fourth year. Neville had continued to teach Harry how to not trip over his feet, but they had concentrated very thoroughly on their footwork and technique, not speaking any words aside from what was necessary. Harry had ignored the stab of jealousy he had felt when he saw Neville dancing with Ginny at the Yule Ball, much as he was sure Neville had ignored the jealousy that had flashed across his own face when he first saw Harry and Parvati Patil walk into the Great Hall. When Harry had pulled Neville up from the bottom of the lake for the Second Task, both of them emerging dripping and exhilarated, they had pointedly sidestepped the fact that they couldn't keep their eyes off one another. It wasn't until Hermione - nosy, interfering, well-meaning Hermione - had sat them both down and scolded them for letting something as silly as mutual attraction for one another ruin their friendship like this that they had been forced to actually confront the elephant in the room. There had been a lot of stammering, a few awkward attempts at reassuring touches, and then the agreement that it was all purely physical and if they didn't set it aside as soon as possible they'd never be able to be friends again. If Harry had to guess, this was not exactly the result Hermione had been going for.
And then Harry had gone off, won the Third Task, witnessed Voldemort's return and was utterly useless company for the remainder of the school year, although he did remember Neville holding him in an oddly protective embrace while he had a bit of a cry at one point after waking from a particularly vivid night terror.
The memories came to him as naturally as though he had lived them, which, he supposed, he had - just not yet, chronologically speaking. The currents and eddies of time and causality did not bear thinking about at the moment, as he didn't have the brain power to consider more than one weighty problem at once.
After tossing it over in his mind for a time he sighed heavily, gave up on sleep as a bad job, and flicked his bed hangings to the side. He was not entirely surprised to see Neville sitting on the edge of his own bed, lost in thought. It was still early; Ron was doubtless in the common room wheedling Hermione to help him finish his homework, and who knew where Seamus and Dean were.
"Bit of a shock?" Neville asked with a weak smile. Harry responded with a quavering smile of his own and a shrug.
"Under the circumstances, I suppose not really," he said. He sat up, turning to sit on the edge of his bed facing Neville.
"It probably doesn't come as a surprise that I'm queer as a green galleon," Neville said quietly, "though it's not something I tend to bring up with just anyone. Particularly not anyone I'm not married to."
"I was going to ask how exactly that worked," Harry said, grateful for a conversation topic that wouldn't involve talking about the two of them. Neville shrugged.
"Right place, right time. Hannah and I reunited at the Leaky Cauldron, where she was landlady. We got to talking, then drinking, then talking some more. She wanted children but wasn't especially interested in men; I wanted a family but, well, wasn't equipped to produce one on my own. The situation worked out well. I live up at Hogwarts during the school year, she in Diagon Alley. We managed to have two beautiful daughters and while they're of an age to suspect that perhaps their mother and father are a tad different, our family is still a happy one, if I do say so myself." Neville sighed. "And I have to admit, having that family is a shield of sorts against the discrimination I'd otherwise face, as callous as it may be to hear myself say it."
Harry nodded slowly. "Ginny was the one who figured out I'd have a go at anyone with a pulse," he found himself saying. "My twenty-sixth birthday, she..." he felt himself begin to blush. "She brought home a new friend, shall we say," he continued, studying his hands. "A very handsome new friend. Nice shoulders. She told me to enjoy myself, if I'd only let her watch." He glanced up to see that Neville's eyebrows had shot straight up in amused disbelief. "Well, when your wife gives you something for your birthday, you have to at least pretend you like it." Neville barked out a laugh, and Harry grinned, suddenly much more relaxed. "Anyway, that was about the time that I finally admitted to myself what Ginny had known all along, and just...went with it."
The conversation fizzled. Harry found himself studying his hands again.
"So what do we do?" Neville asked. Harry looked up in surprise.
"I imagine we keep going," he said slowly. "The whole point is to change things, isn't it?"
"This is a big change," Neville pointed out. "I may have been carrying a torch for you the first time round, but it never went this far." Harry raised an eyebrow, and Neville's mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Please. Half the school, girls and blokes alike, had eyes for you at one point or another. I was no exception."
"Be that as it may," Harry said diplomatically, sidestepping the issue, "I'll change whatever I have to if it will keep my little girl from harm. Hell, I'll schtoink you in the middle of the Great Hall at tea if that's what it takes." Neville's eyes widened for a moment in a somewhat comical expression, and Harry almost laughed. Neville mock-scowled outrageously, then composed his features into a more peaceful expression.
"Appealing though the notion may be, I hardly think that will be necessary," he said evenly, dodging the playful punch Harry threw. He looked seriously at Harry then. "But no matter what happens, it doesn't change the fact we're friends first."
"Of course," Harry said. "Thick and thin."
They grinned at each other, then Harry turned to look over his shoulder as the door to the dormitory opened. Instead of Ron or Dean or Seamus, however, a brilliant white light shone from the staircase...
Harry groaned. "So much for sleep."
Harry glared at Ron, Hermione, and Neville in turn; they all seemed to shrink slightly. "So how come I had to stay with the Dursleys while you lot get to help out here?" he demanded, his voice growing louder. "Why d'you get to know what's going on, and I get left in the dark?"
"We don't!" Neville protested.
"Right," Ron agreed, "Mum won't let us anywhere near the meetings, we're not old enough -"
Everything that had been building in Harry for the past several weeks suddenly seemed to explode.
"SO YOU HAVEN'T BEEN TO MEETINGS! YOU'VE STILL BEEN HERE! YOU'VE STILL BEEN TOGETHER, WHILE I'M STUCK AT THE DURSLEYS FOR A SOLID MONTH! AND I'VE DEALT WITH MORE THAN YOU THREE COMBINED AND DUMBLEDORE KNOWS IT - PHILOSOPHER'S STONE, ANYONE? TOM RIDDLE? A BLOODY HORDE OF DEMENTORS?"
Neville had turned pale. Ron and Hermione shot frightened looks at each other.
"AND WHO HAD TO BATTLE DRAGONS AND SPHINXES AND EVERY OTHER FOUL THING LAST YEAR? AND THEN HAD TO WATCH HIM COME BACK, AND DUEL HIM AND ESCAPE? OH, THAT'S RIGHT, ME!"
Hermione looked close to tears, while Ron stood in disbelief, mouth hanging open.
"BUT WHY DO I HAVE ANY RIGHT TO KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON? WHY SHOULD ANYONE EVEN BOTHER WITH ME?"
"We wanted to tell you -" Neville said falteringly, standing up from the bed to approach Harry. Harry rounded on him, shouting directly in his face.
"COULDN'T HAVE WANTED IT THAT BADLY, ELSE YOU'D HAVE DONE IT! BUT NO, YOU SWORE TO DUMBLEDORE -"
"But we did -"
"FOUR WEEKS I'VE BEEN STUCK AT THE DURSLEYS, NICKING MUGGLE PAPERS FROM RUBBISH BINS TO TRY AND SEE IF ANYTHING WAS HAPPENING -"
"But -"
"BEEN HAVING A REAL LAUGH, HAVEN'T YOU, HIDING AWAY HERE ALL TOGETHER KEEPING THINGS FROM ME -"
And Neville's fist connected firmly with Harry's cheekbone, hard enough to send Harry sprawling.
"Shut the hell up and listen," Neville said in a cold voice that didn't seem as though it could possibly belong to him.
Everyone in the room stared at him in shock. Harry gingerly touched his cheek, glaring angrily up at Neville.
"We've been locked up here for those same four weeks, knowing the entire time that you were going to be royally hacked off at us if we didn't tell you anything," Neville said, rubbing his knuckles. "I've tried to send you an owl five different times, but they wouldn't let me." He turned his glare to Ron and Hermione. "Worried I'd be writing in code or some rubbish."
"Neville - you were trying to write in code -" Hermione said. Neville ignored her.
"I've been going stir crazy, not allowed to leave, just because my parents were in the Order last time and that makes me a target. But they won't tell me anything either. Don't get to hear from my best friend - who nearly died a month ago, by the way, don't think I don't realize that - I don't get to do damn near anything, and Gran rubs it in every chance she gets that I'm not old enough to join the order with her and actually do something. And then I hear that my best friend's been attacked by bloody dementors and no one will tell me flat out if you're safe or not, or if they're doing anything else to protect you, or if you've really been expelled, and then you just show up here and start accusing me of having a laugh the whole time? Saying I never really wanted to talk to you?" He shook out his hand; the knuckles were bleeding from where they'd split. "Sometimes you are the absolute stupidest person I know, and I've met your cousin."
Harry felt he should have something to say to that, but the shock of Neville's sudden vehemence had dissipated his anger quite thoroughly. Still on his back on the floor, he stared up at his friends; Hermione was glancing back and forth between the two of them, and Ron looked more bewildered than Harry had ever seen him.
Neville suddenly thrust his other hand out; Harry flinched before realizing that it was an offer to help him off the floor. He grasped it and Neville pulled him to his feet, then drew him into a rough hug.
"Good to see you," he said gruffly. "Sorry about the face."
Despite himself, Harry grinned. "Good to see you too, Neville."
"You're both mental," Hermione said in wonder. "One hundred percent mental."
Ron was snoring when Neville prodded Harry in the shoulder, one finger over his lips as though the requirement for silence was not apparent. Harry grabbed his glasses from the bedside table and followed Neville to one of the empty rooms at Grimmauld Place that had been somewhat decontaminated. After he quietly shut the door behind him, Neville turned and sighed heavily.
"Criminy, Harry, I'm sorry," he said.
"What?" Harry asked. "Oh, this." He prodded the bruise on his cheek gently, then shrugged. "Can't say I didn't deserve it, really. What I'm confused about is...why that event? Seems rather insignificant."
"You think so?" Neville asked shrewdly. "You think our first fight is insignificant?"
Harry furrowed his brow. "That was our first fight, wasn't it?" he asked with awe. "Blimey, four years of knowing each other and we hadn't had a row?"
"You're just used to not speaking to either Ron or Hermione every other month," Neville pointed out. "You and I, though - bosom buddies."
"Is that why you helped me up after nearly knocking my teeth clean out?"
"A bit," Neville admitted, "But also because you looked kind of pathetic there on the floor. And it's really hard to actually stay mad at you for long."
"It's my bottomless well of teenage charisma," Harry said expansively.
"Right. Fat chance." Neville shook his head and laughed. "Anyway. Interesting times, now, yeah?"
Harry nodded. "Apparently your Gran's in the Order."
"Oh, she was before - she was just off to the side. Never even told me about it, not until she came to Hogwarts that last night for the battle. She's more involved this time...probably because of you and I being mates, you know." Neville reached into his pocket and drew out the flask of timelines, unstoppering it. "I'm going to take a gander, try to figure out what's next. The green ones are hard to read, and the white ones in our future are practically impossible, but hopefully I'll actually have some time tonight..." He paused. "Is it just me...or is it more difficult now to remember how things were before? Like it's so different now that what came before is hard to bring up?"
Harry paused to consider. "Yes," he said after a moment of staring off into space. "It is." For some reason the notion chilled him. "I thought Dumbledore said we'd remember everything."
"Maybe Dumbledore doesn't know everything," Neville suggested. "Shocking, I know."
"Maybe we're not doing it right," Harry fretted. Neville shook his head.
"I don't think we'd be allowed to do it wrong. Maybe it's because we're doing it exactly right, and we don't need the old memories for reference anymore."
The idea stirred a slight panic in Harry's chest. "But - I want to remember the way it actually happened," he said uselessly.
"Harry, this is the way it actually happened," Neville reminded him. "The way we lived it before is the falsehood now."
Harry found the prospect profoundly disturbing, and he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed to think about it while Neville contemplated the lines in the air. After a few moments Neville glanced over.
"Be honest - would you have it any other way than the way it is?"
Harry considered for a moment, and surprised himself with the result. "I suppose not."
"Well, there you go then." Neville waved a hand at him. "Go to sleep. I hear you complain one more time about not getting any sleep and I'll hex you. I'll let you know if I find anything important."