Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, settings, and other elements belong to JK Rowling. Only the plot and original characters are mine.

Sorry for the lack of dialogue in this chapter!

When Neville finally returned home after a filling dinner, plenty of goodbyes and a whisper from Molly along the lines of 'wouldn't it be lovely to join the family in name too' (whatever that meant), he pulled the letters from his pocket.

Throwing the spelled letters onto his counter, Neville shrugged out of his robe and and settled in. Three of the five remaining letters were from friends and another was a reminder from Witch Weekly (as if he could forget). The last was a formal envelope with what Neville recognized as the Potter seal on it. It was unlike Harry to send anything like this, and Harry had no living relatives with the Potter name. It was a tad concerning.

The envelope was made of a darker, thicker parchment, and the seal was embedded in silver wax. Flipping it over, his eyes widened at the address on the back.

Lord Neville Francis Longbottom, Heir Apparent to the Noble

and most Ancient houses of Black, Gryffindor and Malfoy

What did this mean?! He was only intended for the Longbottom Lordship, which his Gran had passed on to him when he came of age. He now controlled all of the properties and vaults held in his family's possessions, not that he'd done anything about it yet (much to his Gran's chagrin).

As far as he'd seen, the only good thing to come out of his inheritance was the control of two seats in the Wizengamot, which allowed him to voice an opinion in the slowly changing magical world. It was his, and the Weasley's (whose ancient family vaults had opened due to the magical prowess of the Weasley children, and subsequently earned them back their seats) votes that had passed the law protecting the rights of werewolves. It was just too bad Remus wasn't their to see it.

The Lordship of the House of Black had been left to Harry, he was positive of that, and the Gryffindor line had been dormant for at least the last five hundred years. How in the name of Merlin had it been reactivated? And how the hell had he gained the Malfoy lordship?

With a vague sense of foreboding, Neville broke the seal and carefully pulled the letter from the thick parchment. His eyes flashed warily across the page as he began to read.

Hey Neville,

Sorry the outside is so formal mate, Draco made me do it. Yes, Draco. He's here by the way, skulking over my shoulder. Anyways, we seem to have quite a bit to discuss concerning titles apparently.

I'm assuming you'll be at the Witch Weekly shoot tomorrow, seeing as Gin would kill you if you didn't go. Would you be able to meet for lunch afterwards? We may also need to stop at Gringotts to clear things up when we're done talking, if that's alright with you.

Here, Neville noted, Harry's nearly illegible scrawl transitioned into a spidery, smooth script.

I do apologize if this is an inconvenience, but it is of the utmost importance that we speak. I think it best if I tell you now, I'm not the same bratty prick I was before.

Neville couldn't contain his disbelieving snort at this. He could only assume the handwriting belonged to Malfoy, and he found it very difficult to trust he'd changed much despite the part he played in the war. Though Harry deemed him suitable enough to date, so there was that.

We hope this letter reaches you in time, as you seem to have been unreachable for the past two months. Harry and I have even tried contacting you Grandmother, but she would only tell us that you were safe.

Harry's handwriting picked up again here.

And right terrifying she was! Your Gran is awfully protective of you Nev, and awfully proud too I'd say! You gave me quite a scare when you disappeared though mate. We will definitely be discussing that when we see you. Hope you're doing well mate!

Sincerely,

Lord Harry James Potter and Master Draco Abraxas Malfoy

Leaning back in his chair, Neville dragged a hand down his face. Well now he had no choice but to go too the photoshoot, no matter how humiliating it may be. He could barely handle the formalities of the Longbottom lordship, the last thing he wanted was three more!

It was well past eleven, but Neville assumed Harry would still be up. They had stayed up later in the dorm, though maybe it had changed now that Harry was living with Malfoy. He decided to pen a short note out to Harry and sent it off, praying he didn't wake him up.

About an hour later, after Neville had sorted the rest of the mail and had gotten ready for bed, he received an excited acknowledgement from Harry, scrawled on a bit of scrap paper. Running his hands through his hair, through the scrap in the bin by his desk, and resolved to get some sleep.

Bright rays of sunlight danced across Neville's bedspread as it seeped in through the window. With a groan, he fumbled for his wand to cast a tempus charm. '8:14' flashed brightly above him before disappearing. What an ungodly hour to be awake.

Neville had not slept well the night before, tossing and turning thinking about the day ahead. When he had finally nodded off, his dreams were plagued by bouncing ferret's and a horrifying amount of cameras.

Knowing there was no way in hell he was going to be able to fall asleep again, he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower. He didn't have to be at Witch Weekly Studios until ten, so he had quite a bit of time to get ready. He might even have time to go out to the gardens and get some work done.

After taking his sweet time in the shower, he reached for a towel to dry off. Stepping out and looking in the mirror, Neville sighed. Sure he'd thinned out a bit, probably from the manual labor in the gardens, and the extra training for the aurors, but now he just looked like a beanpole. His swampish brown eyes were hidden behind his hair, which had retained a slight wave after he had grown it out.

Dragging a hand down his face, Neville set to work following the grooming instructions which had been attached to his original letter from Witch Weekly. They had asked him to skip the morning shave in the event that they wanted a picture with stubble. Despite this, Neville lightly trimmed the hair down so it was not as prominent. His hair had always grown faster than most.

Carefully brushing his hair through, he decided to leave it hanging loosely for the photographer. They could do what they wanted with it.

Finishing up and dressing, Neville headed down to grab some breakfast, finally getting out to the gardens and greenhouse at nine. Inhaling sharply at the state of the garden, his suspicion of it being a bad day was confirmed. Throwing on his gloves, he set to work on healing his Dragonian Honey Suckles.