Neville twitched involuntarily as he felt dark eyes drill into the side of his face. Inconspicuously, or at least as inconspicuously as he could, he glanced sideways and almost had a heart attack when he found his gaze caught in the inescapable orbs of Theodore Nott.

"Can y-you stop t-that?" stammered Neville, frowning, or again at least trying to as every stammer caused a tremor to appear in his already very frightened face.

"Stop what?" came the low, monotonous reply.

The Gryffindor's bunched eyebrows quivered. "Trying t-to in-in-intimidate me because it's not w-working!"

A lie, a complete utter lie.

As soon as he said that out, Neville gulped nervously, expecting something…evilly scary coming his way. All Slytherins were scary, but this one seemed to be in a different league of scariness altogether…

"…."

"Please stop that."

"……."

"Please."

"…………"

"Please!"

"…the plant's getting away."

As quick as lightening, Neville spun and grabbed hold of the miniature sunflower on legs which was making a break for freedom out the window. Careful as to not to get kicked, he placed it delicately back in to its caged pot, sighing in relief as he did so.

Once safely in, Neville turned to glare crossly at the Slytherin, who was inattentively gazing out at the clouds. Exasperated, Neville buried his round face in his arms in frustration.

Theodore turned his gaze upon him with interest. He was strange, this Neville Longbottom. His appearance was unremarkable, he had no particular charm or wit nor was there any exceptional ability in him. In short, Longbottom was nothing special.

However, there was something about him which Theodore could not put a finger on, which made him so, so….different.

Why?

Theodore tried to dig up any other information he had on the boy, skimming through the great filing system of his brain.

Last year, with the Thestrals, in Hagrid's class, Longbottom could see them as could Potter. It was cold and he could remember seeing their flying, lurking forms and he had pulled a face of great distaste. This was a rare occurrence (seeing as he usually had no expression on his face) but at that time he was extremely enraged. How dare he?! How dare that oaf bring out Theodore's Thestrals to be mocked and squealed at by these bunch of idiots, these morons who even if they were able to see them would never be able to appreciate their beauty! For Theodore an expression of great distaste was equivalent to shaking with fury.

However, that lesson went better than expected; Theodore gained a lot of respect for the gamekeeper-turned-teacher, who, despite his clumsy manner and monstrous appearance, had a similar sort of relationship with the creatures of the forest as he did. Ironically, Dolores Umbridge completely ruined Hagrid straight after, but it wasn't as if Theodore liked him

But still, nothing on Longbottom, who was now tending the plant with something akin to affection in his brown eyes, unaware of being watched.

Last year, about November, in that room that changes, Longbottom was there with a crowd of others. The first meeting of that infamous DA. Theodore had, in an attempt to find peace away from his noisy housemates, stumbled across a room full of squashy armchairs that he had never seen before. Undaunted by its sudden appearance, he took it all in his stride and promptly settled himself down to doze off. It was to his great irritation that no sooner than his eyes were about to close that they came, in threes, fours twos, after one another. If Theodore had been anyone other than himself, he would have held his breath in anticipation and awe on the fact he was gazing uninvited on the very first meeting of that legendary DA. But as Theodore was himself, all he did was sink lower into his armchair so as not to be seen and observed with half-closed eyes, uninterested and annoyed.

Potter had made an irritatingly boring and predictable speech for a bit, clearly not too happy about his forced status as a leader. Theodore actually fell asleep. When he awoke, everyone seemed mightily satisfied and proud of themselves, as if, yeah they're really going to become any use whatsoever to the war which was quietly looming because that Harry Potter was going to teach them. They had no idea what would be waiting for them when the war started or what their enemy was capable of.

Potter knew. Theodore could see it in his eyes, eyes that always looked to him that they would burst into tears. Longbottom knew as well. Theodore had spotted the worry, the pain that threatened to unravel in Longbottom's face. The only difference with Potter's pain and Longbottom's pain was that no-one would care about Longbottom's. No-one would grieve if Longbottom's pain broke him, broke his mind, his heart, his soul.

And Longbottom knew this as well.

"Hey…N-nott?" Longbottom looked as though he was going to wave his hands in front of Theodore's face, but drew back having enough wisdom that that was a bad idea.

"…?" Theodore's look was questioning.

"We n-need to spray the plants now with growth potion, so-"

Theodore took the spray from his hands and leisurely began to squirt the foul smelling liquid on the frenzied sunflowers, which consequently excited them even more.

"- can you go get your spray from the front…or not…I'll g-go get a new one then…"

Theodore watched his partner angrily walk to the front again. He had never seen Longbottom angry before. When it was partner time in that DA meeting, Theodore's mind drifted again, Longbottom was alone. He was usually alone, wasn't he? During lessons, during breaks and lunches, and weekends? There was just something about Longbottom which made others move away from him, something awfully tragic. No-one could pinpoint what exactly this thing was, but they felt it and they feared it and they hated it. It was bad, whatever this thing was and anybody, everybody was repulsed by it.

Except for Theodore.

This must have been what fascinated him about Longbottom. This thing of Longbottom, it was…interesting. It was distinctly unirritating.

Like the sorrow that surrounded his mother's grave…

"Neville Longbottom."

Neville glanced nervously, angrily at him. "Yes? Has your spray run out?"

No stutters this time. Theodore smiled, the corners of his lips slowly, almost painfully slowly, rose strangely like he wasn't aware of this particular bit of disobedience from his body.

Neville's hairs stood on end. Theodore smiling was beyond frightening.

"You like Thestrals?" the Slytherin asked suddenly.

"Huh?" Neville frowned, "Yeah, sort of. I mean, they don't scare me at all, weirdly enough. They're very friendly creatures, I feel bad that people are scared of them and all."

Neville then unexpectedly smiled a secret, shy smile. "But if that stops people from bothering them, it's good I think."

"After this lesson, we'll go visit them."

"What?!" Neville spluttered, confusion and fear and a gleam, just a gleam, of hope shining in his round face. "We?"

"Yes."

"You want to hang out with me? To do what? Curse me?"

Theodore's eyes flashed dangerously. "I want to visit the Thestrals."

"What if I don't?"

"You do." His conviction was so strong not even a fully grown Blast-ended Skewt could have torn it down.

"I…" Uncertainty. Suspicion. Hope. Hope. Hope. Hope. Hope. Hope. Hope. Hope. Hope. Hope. Hope.

The lesson ended. Theodore packed up his things and left the greenhouse. The September sun shone brightly, almost desperately, clinging urgently to the dying summer. He strolled unhurriedly down the corridor, his steps synchronising with rushed beat of the rest of the school, creating jazz. Foot jazz.

And at his side, Neville walked the melody.