A/N: For Kelly. You wouldn't shut up about these two and then neither would my brain. I'm not even entirely sure this makes sense. Shut up and love me.
Two prompts left, guys. Two. *flails*
Pairing: Neville Longbottom/Draco Malfoy
Prompt: 17. Diagon Alley
Sometimes they meet in Diagon Alley and part with a gentle nod and a murmured hello. Sometimes Neville feels sorry for Draco, with his shadowed eyes and that lost look he has. Sometimes he asks him for a drink, or for lunch.
Sometimes they end up pissed as newts and Draco finds his way into Neville's open mouth and they are all shaking, sweaty palms on skin and rushed breaths behind crooked, crumbing pubs with too many windows.
Sometimes they pretend it isn't happening.
Sometimes Neville says, "I'm sorry about your aunt," but he doesn't mean it, and Draco doesn't mind at all.
"I'm sorry, too," he says, and he watches Neville's hand creep towards the newest gum wrapper in his pocket.
"I know." And they are quiet for a while.
Sometimes Draco is braver than he should be; like when he kisses Neville softly and they're not even drunk, and he doesn't know what he's doing or why but it doesn't feel wrong and so he doesn't stop. But Neville doesn't stop him either so he supposes this is just what they do now.
He thinks he might be crying or Neville might be crying or maybe they both are.
He still does not stop.
Sometimes Draco has nightmares, thrashing wildly and crying out, and Neville is supposed to be the brave one so he grabs him, keeps him still, shushes his sobs until they are dead on his lips.
"Thank you," Draco whispers, but he means I'm sorry how can you love me I did terrible things and I don't deserve you I don't and Neville kisses him harshly, bites down on his lip, tears at his hair, bruises his sides with hands that sometimes grip a little too tightly.
Anything just to shut him up.
Sometimes, Neville stares at family photos for hours on end and cries, just a little. Draco is never sure what to do, so he just turns up the wireless and lights the fire and doesn't say anything for a long time.
"How can you lose something you've never really had?" Neville mutters. "I'm being silly. I'm always so stupid."
"No," Draco says, and it is all he has to say, because Neville understands the warm arms around him and the lean body pressed close are worth more than either of them can put into words.
Sometimes, when they've climbed the stairs, Draco begins to shake. He cannot stand by the window. He doesn't have it in him to look down at anyone anymore.
"He was still looking at me when he fell," he says quietly, and Neville pretends not to hear. It's easier this way.
Sometimes Neville has nightmares, thrashing wildly and crying out, and Draco soothes his hair and whispers there there until Neville blinks his bright eyes awake and screams. He is hysterical, violent, scared. He is always so confused, always so desperate.
So Draco sleeps on the sofa and digs his fingernails into his own forearm until it bleeds. He wonders what he does in these nightmares, wonders if it even matters. He was there. That's enough.
He doesn't sleep on these nights, and he doesn't think Neville does either.
Sometimes Neville wakes up with Draco Malfoy in his bed and cries.
He prays that the heavens can hear him, that Dumbledore and Remus and Gran and everyone else doesn't think he is a traitor. He hopes they understand. He hopes they know that he never wanted this, never thought this would happen, still doesn't really know what he's doing when Draco's body is warm and lean against his in the middle of the night.
What do you do when you love the wrong person? he wonders, but the answer never comes.
The morning light spills across their naked chests gently and neither of them moves.