"Harry." Neville's face lights up as he follows Blinky into the parlor.
Narcissa and Draco rise to a stand as he crosses the room to envelop his old friend in a warm hug. Nev claps him on the back and then holds him at arm's length.
"You look good, mate. A hell of a sight better since last time I saw you."
Harry returns the smile. "Amazing what a bit of rest and the lack of nosy reporters will do."
Neville laughs, "I can imagine."
Harry steps to the side and ushers Neville forward. "Here, come in. Narcissa, Draco, may I present Neville Longbottom."
Narcissa drops into a sweeping curtsy, as elegant as ever. "Mr. Longbottom, you honor us with your presence."
Neville steps forward and reaches for her hand as she straightens. She offers it, and Neville bows formally. "It is you who honor me, Lady Malfoy. And please, call me Neville." His voice is low and deferential, and full of warmth.
Harry watches as Narcissa's eyes rove over Neville with careful interest at his tone. He releases her hand, and she pulls it back slowly, almost reluctantly. "Of course," she murmurs, "and it's Narcissa, please. We're not as formal as we used to be."
"Very well, Narcissa. I'll remember that. Thank you." Neville turns and offers Draco his hand without reservation. That's the one thing Harry loves about Neville. What's in the past is in the past. He's here on a clean slate, to see Harry and the greenhouse, nothing more. Neville's animosity is like his own: reconciled and forgotten. "Malfoy. It's been a while, hasn't it? I trust you are well?"
Draco looks at Neville's hand with trepidation for a split second, before he grasps it and shakes it with confidence. "Longbottom. Yes, it has. And I am well, thank you for asking."
"Neville," Neville says in response. "I think we're past last names."
Draco's face is a mask of formal cordiality, but Harry sees something underneath coming to the surface. It's a genuine acceptance, of both Neville and himself, that the old prejudices of the past are dead and buried. Harry watches as Draco's eyes flick to his for a moment before they return to Neville.
"You're right. Then it's Draco to you. Welcome to Malfoy Manor. We're pleased to have you."
Harry's chest swells and his breath catches. He'd expected nothing more than cold politeness from Draco, and here he is, welcoming Neville with genuine pleasure. And the short glance that Draco shoots him again only drives home his theory. This is for Harry. Yes, it probably has something to do with Draco letting go of old habits, but this is also Draco showing Harry that he is capable of anticipating Harry's wishes. Of welcoming Neville so warmly because it's what Harry wants. And he's done it without being asked. Even after the failure of last night's encounter, Draco is showing Harry that he can be a better man, that he's not harboring any petulance or affront after Harry all but tossed him out on his arse.
The promise in this one simple act has Harry's blood singing.
Harry can honestly say he doesn't remember much of the pleasantries after that. He's too caught up in Draco and the way he completely broadsided him. Neville and Narcissa have presumably gone off to the greenhouse, and he's left alone with Draco. Who, Harry suddenly realizes, is speaking to him.
"What?" Harry shakes his head and turns his eyes on Draco.
He smirks and chuckles. "I asked if you were alright. You went somewhere for a moment. I admit, seeing Longbottom was a shock for me, I mean, when did he get so fit? But you, you've seen him recently. Or were your thoughts elsewhere?" He says it like he knows what Harry was thinking, and maybe he does.
"My mind did wander for a moment, but I assure you, I'm right here," Harry replies.
"Good." Draco shifts on his feet, and his fingers fidget by his side. "I was thinking, since I believe they'll be a while in the greenhouse, that you would join me for tea?" He hesitates, and then continues, "I just thought we might enjoy the pleasure of each other's company for a while."
He's planning on spending the better part of the day in the studio again, but there's something about the soft, earnest quality in Draco's eyes and his gentle awkwardness that has Harry wanting to put him at ease. And frankly, the thought of spending an uninterrupted hour or two in Draco's presence just being sends a delicious spike of yearning thrumming through his bloodstream.
Harry smiles at him, radiating agreement. "I think that's a wonderful idea."
OOOOO
The walk out to the greenhouse is punctuated by crisp gusts of frosty winter wind and a sporadic flurry of snowflakes. Neville's emanating a comfortable warmth from where their arms are entwined in a proper escorting fashion. Narcissa wonders briefly if a wandless Warming charm is at work. But the heat she feels is natural and organic in nature. And that is a curious thought on its own.
"Harry didn't mention that he and Draco are dating," Neville says casually.
"To my knowledge, they aren't," she replies. "At least not yet," she adds with a smile.
"Ah, I see." He says it like he knows something she doesn't. And he might, given that he knows Harry so well. "But you believe they will be soon, yes? I can hear it in your tone," he teases. "Mother's intuition?"
Her lips curl and her lashes lower demurely. "Possibly. Or maybe it's that I know my son as well as you know Harry. They've danced around in one way or another since the moment they met. Perhaps it's time they finally came together."
The greenhouse is up ahead, and if she's not mistaken, Neville's steps begin to slow, and her own stride falls back to keep in sync. She takes no note of how easily it seems to happen.
"I think that would be a good thing," Neville says on a sigh. "Harry needs someone to balance him and challenge him at the same time. No one's ever seemed to push his buttons like Draco."
Narcissa laughs despite herself. "Yes, Draco can be an acquired taste. But we've both learned over the years to cultivate new interests."
They've almost reached the clearing where the greenhouse stands alone, wide and high among the grounds, and yes, Neville's gait has most certainly faltered. The slow pace gives her more time to realize how solid he is next to her. Solid. Strong. Unyielding.
His head turns to catch her gaze and his eyes glint, even though the sky is overcast.
"And what sort of interests are you cultivating at the moment, Narcissa?"
"Muggle clothes," she blurts out, unable to resist the sparkle of mirth she sees. "Jeans, specifically." She thinks she should be horrified at her own outburst, but Neville chuckles, and the low rumble entreats her traitorous mouth to continue. "And I have a pair of 'flip-flops', I think they're called. They have horrendous little sparkly things all over them." She wrinkles her nose and then smiles. "I absolutely adore them. I think if Draco ever saw them, he'd die of apoplexy."
The chuckles thunders into a full-blown guffaw of delight, and his arm tightens on hers as they reach the greenhouse. "Flip-flops, you say? What would the world think of Lady Malfoy with bare toes and naked ankles?" He leans in. "Scandalous."
The teasing banter is bursting bubbles of stuffy propriety and scattering her inhibitions into the wind like the snowflakes that swirl around them.
"I did tell you we aren't as formal as we used to be."
"So you did." Neville's voice pitches low, and there's a look in his eye that she hasn't seen directed in her way in a very, very long time. "I think I might like to catch a peek of you in your flip-flops sometime."
"If you manage to come back again, I think it just might happen." She thinks it might be the light howl to the wind, but suddenly her ears are buzzing, like the air is whooshing around them in a fury. But the snowflakes still fall softly, and the tree branches in the distance are barely swaying.
"I'll keep that in mind."
They've stopped, and the entrance to the greenhouse is not but inches away.
"Well, here we are," Narcissa says, a little breathless. She exhales softly, partly to steady herself from the chill, and partly to steady herself in general. For some reason, Neville Longbottom has her spinning off-kilter. "Care to take a closer look?"
Neville looks down at her, and this time she's certain. Certain that the interest she sees in his eyes goes beyond what should be considered appropriate. She can feel him beginning to speak even before he does, because the deep intonation hits her chest before his words hit her ears.
"I'll get as close as you'll let me."
Narcissa swallows as her mouth goes dry and her stomach pitches headlong toward her toes. It's a feeling she has to struggle to recognize.
Merlin, she thinks, does it feel good.
OOOOO
"You're absolute shit at chess, Harry."
The jibe is delivered in Draco's signature drawl with such affront that Harry doubles over in laughter. Two hours and four games of chess later, he's still soaking in every moment in Draco's presence.
"I told you I was two games ago. It's not my fault if you didn't listen."
"I'll never understand how you were able to strategize to win a war and defeat a Dark Lord with an army of children with tactics like these." Draco's tone drips with scorn.
"In all fairness, Ron did a great deal of the strategizing, as it were. I was really just the hired muscle."
"Hired—hired muscle?" Draco huffs in disgust, slumping back in his chair. "Oh, for the love of—"
Draco's words cut off, saving Harry from another scathing remark when the patio doors open and Narcissa and Neville stroll in, arm in arm, pink-cheeked from the cold, heads bent in intimate laughter.
"All is well, I take it?" Harry asks.
"Absolutely. I got a bang-up tour of the greenhouse and took a look at those roses." Neville looks at Narcissa as she disengages to remove her cloak. Draco's there in an instant to take it from her and he drapes it over his arm. "It'll be next week before I can get back, though. I've got some things to finish before term starts back, and I want to do some more research. If that's agreeable, Narcissa?"
Harry catches the underlying depth to Neville's tone and smiles.
"Of course, whenever you can return is fine. Our doors are always open to you, Neville." She holds out her hand in a formal gesture of goodbye.
Harry watches Draco's eyebrows shoot into his hairline as Neville takes his mother's delicate hand and presses a soft kiss to the back.
"It was a pleasure. I'll call on you soon."
The high color in Narcissa's cheeks softens her features. "I look forward to it."
Neville turns and nods to Draco. "Draco, good to see you." He snags Harry in a one-armed hug as Blinky pops in to show him out. "See you around, Harry."
"Yeah, you too, Nev."
When Harry looks back, Narcissa is gliding out of the room, a shy smile fixed upon her upturned lips.
Draco is frozen in place. "That's—that's my mother."
"Yes," Harry agrees, waiting to see how this plays out.
"And that's—that's Neville Longbottom."
"Yes."
Draco shakes his head and turns a bewildered and slightly nauseous face to Harry. "I don't think you saw what I just saw," he says, not without a touch of childish disdain.
"Oh, I saw it," Harry replies with a chuckle.
The indignant splutter that forces its way from Draco's mouth is loud in the open air. "And just what am I supposed to do about this?" he cries, flinging a hand in the direction of his departed mother.
"Same thing I'm going to do, I suppose."
"Which is?" Draco is incensed.
Harry's grin is wide and full of teeth. "Sit back and enjoy the show."