Neville spent much of the following week feeling somewhat better. He tended his plants in the garden and in the small greenhouse his Gran had built for him a few years ago. Gran had made an admirable attempt at keeping up the garden, but the greenhouse was another matter altogether.
The majority of the greenhouse plants were completely dead, unable to be revived with any means of magic or water. It depressed Neville to throw away some of the plants that he had tended so lovingly in what felt like another lifetime. Though a small part of Neville was hopeful that all new plants would signify an all new beginning.
He was relieved that he was able to find that some of his yellow ivy was growing strong. It was already November, and it had thankfully had been a mild one so far. He was able to get a few good cuttings for George. He planted them in a small box that could be easily carried through the floo network and put it on the windowsill of his bedroom until Saturday. At times he found himself staring at the plant and thinking about George, wondering what George was doing, how he was feeling.
Nights were still bad. Neville was still suffering from serious bouts of insomnia. The good feelings left over from the day would quickly dissipate as the sun set and Neville would find himself, once again, lying in bed staring at the ceiling with visions of the bodies of Tonks, Lupin, Colin Creevy, Fred Weasley, and all the others running through his mind. When staring at the ceiling got tiresome, Neville would turn to his side, staring at the wall or to his other side and stare at his bedroom door. And when that didn't help him sleep, he'd hold his pillow over his face until his chest burned and he couldn't take it anymore. Then he'd remove the pillow gasping for air. Eventually, he would give up and go downstairs, take a walk and clear his mind. Generally speaking, he would get back in to bed just before dawn, fall asleep and manage less than four hours before waking for breakfast.
On Friday night, the night before he was to go to Hogsmeade with Ron, Neville asked Gran if she could make him a sleeping potion. Looking at her grandson's face, gaunt from six months of grappling with demons and with dark puffy circles under his pleading eyes, she couldn't say no. She wasn't a fan of sleeping potions, believing that they cured a symptom, rather than a cause of sleeplessness. Nevertheless, she was wise enough to know that only time would cure the causes of Neville's sleeplessness and in the meantime, if he needed a little assistance in getting some decent sleep every now and then, well, she wasn't going to deprive him. Besides, watching him work in the garden and in the greenhouse, she felt sure that he was on the mend and very soon he wouldn't need any help falling asleep.
So on that Friday evening, not quite dusk, Neville lay in bed and Gran brought him a draught of the potion. Neville drank it, and within minutes was consumed by glorious, dreamless, visionless sleep. A sleep like he had never had before.
Saturday came, crisp and cool but with the sun shining brightly. Neville awoke from a nine hour sleep, feeling as refreshed as he could remember feeling in over a year. Even prior to the war, he had been having trouble sleeping; fear coupled by those hammocks in the room of requirement at Hogwarts had not been conducive to a long night's rest.
He sat up in bed, yawned, stretched and moved his head in circles, working out the kinks that had found their way into his neck. He noticed his plant sitting on his window and he stood up immediately. Today was the day. He was going to bring the plant to George. And go in to Hogsmeade. But first, George and the plant.
Neville dressed quickly and went downstairs. Gran was preparing breakfast, and she smiled at him.
"Good sleep?" she asked.
"The best," Neville leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for the potion Gran."
"You needed it." She slipped the eggs out of the pan onto a plate that already had toast and melon slices. She handed the plate to Neville.
He began wolfing down his food. "I'm going back to Diagon Alley today," he was saying to Gran. "I'm bringing some plants to George Weasley, who might need them for one of his products. Then I'm going with Ron to Hogsmeade. We're meeting Harry, Ginny and Hermione."
"That's really great, Neville. I'm so glad to see you getting out." She was positively beaming at him.
They ate in companionable silence until both plates were clean. Neville walked his plate to the sink and began rinsing it.
"Go," said Gran, waving her hand at him. "I'll clean up. You go meet your friends."
Neville ran upstairs, brushed his teeth and checked out his reflection in the mirror. Certainly he had looked better. But he didn't think he looked terrible. Neville appraised his hair, now grown out to nearly his shoulders. He ran his fingers through it, thinking he might keep it long. He only had one visible scar on his cheek, from the abuse at the hands of the Carrows. He rubbed his finger over it and sighed, he remembered all too well having his arms bound and being punched by Amycus who was wearing a sharp ring with the dark mark on it. Neville knew about the other scars, the ones on his back. But to anyone looking right at him, they'd only see the tiny scar on his cheek. Say what you want about the Carrows, they'd had the brains at least to leave most of Neville's physical scars where they'd be covered by clothing, to say nothing of his emotional scars.
_______
"George?" Neville called as he walked into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.
The door to the rear office opened, and George Weasley walked out. He smiled broadly as he noticed it was Neville. It was still quite early in the morning, and Neville was the only one in the store. George motioned Neville to come back, and Neville followed him.
In the small office, Neville put the box of yellow ivy on the desk, and with a small flourish of his hands, said, "Here it is! Yellow ivy."
"Brilliant," George said. 'How does it work?"
Neville shrugged. "I've no idea what to do for humans. But people who use it for the birds take off the leaves and grind them up and put it into the bird food. So, I guess you just try to use the leaves. Who're you going to test it on?"
George looked at him like he was crazy. "Myself, of course. Fred and I always tried things out on each other first." Neville didn't say anything for a moment, thinking about Fred, and George continued, "Course now I'll need someone else there. You know, in case something goes wrong. How 'bout it Neville?" George smirked a little, and when he did, Neville's heart began to pound.
"You want me to test this with you?" he asked, eyes widening just a fraction.
"Sure." George was still smiling broadly, looking Neville directly in his eyes. "Someone's got to. Ron doesn't trust me. Something about being raised with me and knowing me too well to trust me." Neville laughed weakly and George went on, "But you, Neville. You don't know the half of what I'm capable of."
And on that note, Neville answered, "Sure. I'll help you test this stuff out." He was anxious to see the half of what George was capable of.
"Excellent," George said, rubbing his hands together. "Let's get started."
He had barely gotten the words out of his mouth, when Ron came bounding down from the upstairs flat. He was jamming a piece of toast in his mouth.
"Hey, Neville," he said, crumbs flying out of his mouth. He held up a finger as he finished chewing. Finally he swallowed the last bit, "Ready to go?"
"Oh, uh. Yeah." He had temporarily forgotten about Hogsmeade, and his anxiety about going suddenly returned. He turned to George, "I'll stop back by later today. Before I head home."
George nodded and pressed a small bag into Neville's hand. "Floo powder. For when you get sick of sitting around watching him," he pointed to Ron, "and Hermione arguing and Harry and Ginny snogging. Then you can come back to me."
Neville nodded, not taking his hand away from George's. George also let his hand linger in Neville's before taking it away. Neville couldn't wait to come back to George.
Ron held out his elbow and Neville tucked the bag of floo powder into his pocket and grabbed onto Ron's elbow. In a second he was pressing through darkness before appearing in the center of Hogsmeade.
"Ron! Neville!" called an excited voice. They both turned around to see Hermione Granger running toward them, her brown bushy hair being swept by the combination of wind and her running. Ron held out his arms, but Hermione ran right past him and enveloped Neville in a mammoth hug. Ron scowled.
Tears were leaking out of Hermione's eyes. "Neville. We've missed you." She lowered her voice to a whisper, "What have you been doing?" she demanded.
Neville gripped Hermione a little harder, "Wallowing," he whispered into her ear, "but don't tell anyone. Let them think I've been off having fantastic adventures."
Hermione sniffed and gave a shaky laugh, still not letting go of him. "Are you all right?" she asked, her voice filled with concern and she let her finger run quickly over the scar on Neville's cheek.
Neville's heart broke. Hermione's touch felt comforting, like she was blessing him in friendship. "I'm getting there," he assured her.
Finally they broke apart. Neville looked around, Harry and Ginny were walking quickly towards them, hand in hand, both smiling widely.
Neville hugged both of them, exchanging greetings and hellos. The group made its way toward the Three Broomsticks, which, at this time of morning, wasn't quite packed with students the way it would be around lunchtime. Neville thought vaguely of the Hog's Head and thought he needed to go visit Aberforth at some point.
They got a table together in the corner and Hermione went to the bar to order butterbeers for everyone. Neville was having a nice time, enjoying a relaxed conversation. He couldn't quite make himself feel comfortable though. He wondered at how Harry Potter had been able to get up in the mornings, after all, Harry had faced worse than he, Neville, had. Harry lost his Godfather and several good friends, Remus, Tonks and Fred namely. And yet he managed to deal with his loss better. Neville sighed and wondered about the ways people deal with trauma.
George wasn't kidding that Ron and Hermione's relationship was built on bickering or that Harry and Ginny couldn't keep their hands off each other. Even as he was explaining to Neville about the historical research he was undertaking of every witch and wizard buried in the graveyard in Godric's Hollow, Harry found a way to be in constant physical contact with Ginny, holding her hand, or wrapping his arm possessively around her, or even fiddling with the ends of her hair. Maybe that was it. Maybe it was that passion for another person that motivated Harry out of bed in the mornings.
After about ten minutes, Luna Lovegood walked in. "Luna!" said Hermione "Come sit over here." Hermione made a point of shifting her body to clear a space right next to Neville.
"Hello, Neville," Luna said. "How are you feeling?"
"A bit better this week, Luna." Neville smiled. "How are you?"
"Oh you know. Things are basically the same."
Hermione interjected, "Neville, did you know that Luna was named prefect? And that she's gotten top marks in Herbology?"
Neville raised his eyebrows. "Really? Well, that's very impressive," he said politely.
"Luna," Hermione persisted, "You know Neville's always had a special interest in Herbology."
"Yes, I know," Luna said serenely. She turned to Neville, "I think Hermione wants us to have a conversation about Herbology, Neville."
Everyone at the table laughed as Hermione's face turned pink. Even Neville had to laugh, though it was obvious what Hermione was doing, and it made him slightly uncomfortable. She really wanted him and Luna to get together. Then they could be a little six-pack, Three adorable doting couples. But it wasn't going to happen. Luna isn't his type.
Neville sighed, and Luna turned toward him. "Let's go sit at the bar."
They got up, Neville noticing Hermione's delighted face as they did so. Neville brought his butter beer, and he chivalrously ordered another one for Luna as they took a couple of bar stools as far away from the table as possible.
"I think Hermione wants us to be a couple," Luna said in the same blunt way that she always has. Her uncensored observations made some people uncomfortable, but Neville always found it charming and delightful. Luna had the quality of making people feel that they could be, that they should be, completely honest around her, and it usually made for some interesting conversation.
"You may be right," Neville said. He hooked one finger around the neck of his bottle and peered with one eye into the dregs of his butterbeer. " But don't be offended if I don't ask you out on a date, all right?"
"Oh, I'm not offended. I already know you're gay." Luna said simply.
Neville put his bottle down with a thud and turned to her, "How could you possibly know that? I've never told anyone."
Luna smiled at him. "You didn't have to tell me for me to know. I just pay attention to my friends. I noticed you never look twice at pretty girls. But you do look twice at the handsome boys. Sometimes more than twice."
Neville chuckled. "Well, that's very observant of you. Do you think anyone else has noticed?" He tried to sound non-chalant.
"Oh, no. Hermione wouldn't pick up on it unless she's recently read a book called How to Tell a Wizard is Gay or something. She's smart, but she lacks a bit of perspicacity. And Ron and Harry...well, you know straight boys are just a little thick. Deep down, Ginny might know. But she doesn't stop to think about anything but Harry and quidditch. That's pretty much all she thinks about anymore."
"Yeah," Neville nodded. "God. Look at those two." They both looked at Harry and Ginny for a moment, canoodling in the corner booth, while Ron and Hermione quietly snipped at each other. Neville looked away when he saw Ginny's hand disappear under the table toward Harry's lap.
"Harry lent Ginny his invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map. She sneaks out of school a couple nights a week and meets Harry at a room above the Hog's Head." Luna said, still staring at the two of them.
"Really?" Neville was fascinated by this bit of information. He'd gotten quite close to Ginny in his seventh year. The two of them had been favorite targets of the Carrows, who were convinced that Ginny or Neville had to know where Harry Potter was. He turned to look at Luna, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harry and Ginny stand up. He looked back toward them and they walked out of the Three Broomsticks, with a wave to Neville and Luna. Neville smiled and waved back. Good for Ginny. Though Neville contemplated whether or not to tell George.
George. Neville really wanted to get back to him. "I hope you're not offended if I leave now, Luna."
"You're not going off to get depressed again, are you?" Luna asked. Even her questions had a stab-you-in-the-gut type of honesty.
"I'm not," he shook his head. "I'm going to go help George Weasley with something."
"Oh, that's nice," Luna drained her butter beer. "Tell George I said hello. I'm going to the shrieking shack. I think there's a colony of young wrackspurts around there. I want to find them."
Neville said goodbye to Luna and kissed her on the cheek.
For the first time in a while, when Neville walked, he didn't feel a pressing weight on his shoulders.
