oh boy;

The most unusual thing about the Boy-Who-Lived staying in her house was that he seemed genuinely surprised that people liked him. 

‘He’s quite charming, isn’t he?’ said Arthur fondly, having discussed Muggle things with him at great length over lunch. Molly nodded - most boys approaching their teenage years would have felt awkward to the point of humiliation if their friend’s parents had essentially interrogated them about things Molly highly suspected were incredibly boring. Certainly Ron, sitting beside them, had seemed horrified, hissing ‘Dad!’ and throwing Molly pleading looks, or exchanging eye rolls with Fred and George. 

He kept fussing with the robes, but the collar had such a stupid fiddly button that it was working him up into an agitated, tense mess even before anything happened, his dumb clumsy fingers fumbling over it, unable to get the right angle. At several points he stopped, to try and calm himself, staring at his pale, heavily breathing face in the mirror, knowing that even if he did manage to button it up it would only look stupid. 

He spotted his wand on the dresser, and it didn’t occur to him that he hadn’t left it there, that he had actually chucked it on his bed - his mind was utterly thinking about whether using magic might actually be easier than dealing with his trembling fingers. He reached for it, but no sooner had he pointed it at his neck - it gave a pop and a slight flash of pink. 

He swore at it - he had always been easy with cursing and swearing. Simple words had never seemed, to him, to be much to worry about. But the viciousness of the diatribe that flowed from his mouth as he turned and flung the joke wand across the room surprised even him, and when he saw that Harry had just entered, and had had to smoothly sidestep it so that it didn’t hit him in the face, this infuriated him even more. 

‘Just fuck off!’ he shouted at him. ‘Can’t a man get a moment’s peace in this house?’ 

But Harry glanced down at the joke wand, now a lurid pink flamingo, then back at Ron. He did not leave. 

‘You all right?’ he asked calmly. 

What a stupid fucking question. ‘Fine,’ Ron snarled at him, turning back to the mirror. ‘Never better.’ 

Harry cautiously approached, leaning against the desk pushed up against the wall, and said nothing. 

‘I just can’t get this thing fucking right,’ Ron spat, his voice trembling nearly as much as his fingers were over the button. ‘And then any time you try and do anything in this house, there’s always something stupid like that getting in your way - nothing funny about it anyway.’ 

Harry still said nothing, but the words just kept tumbling out of Ron’s mouth, surprising even him. 

‘You know, you try and be dignified and composed on a day like this, but everywhere you turn there’s a fucking flamingo or a haddock or a punching telescope or something - it’ not right, there should be a bit more - more - I don’t know, it’s not right.’ 

‘I know,’ said Harry quietly. 

‘No, no you don’t know,’ said Ron, his voice almost at a shout. He knew that Harry did know really. ‘It’s been fucking days for everyone to get it out of their system, and now we’re meant to be a bit more grown up about it all, put it all behind us, say goodbye - that’s the point of it all, isn’t it?’

‘It has only been a few days,’ Harry told him gently. ‘It’s normal to still be-’

‘No, no it’s not,’ Ron snapped. ‘It’s not fucking - UGH!’ 

His frustration with the button had reached such a point that he had tugged, hard and uncontrolled, on the collar, and undone the one on the other side too. He screwed up his face, and breathed deeply. He felt Harry step forward, and very cautiously, stand close. He opened his eyes to see Harry very close - his hands at his collar. 

‘There’s no short cut for any of this,’ Harry told him quietly, as he did up the button for him. ‘Or a right way of doing things.’ 

Ron sniffed, and took a shuddering breath, trying to steady himself. ‘I… sorry,’ he blurted out. He felt embarrassed, talking like this to Harry, because they didn’t have that kind of relationship, and Harry always dealt with these things better, so he probably just thought Ron was being pathetic. 

‘Don’t apologise.’ Harry moved to the other button, fixed it, and then returned to leaning on the desk.

Ron couldn’t look at him; he paced frantically, dabbing at his nose with the back of his hand or running it through his hair, his breathing shallow and rapid. Harry still leaned against the desk, watching him calmly. Ron wished he wouldn’t - he wanted him to leave, to stop seeing him like this, to just let him be alone. 

Except he very much did not want to be alone either. 

‘I shouldn’t have thrown that at you.’ 

‘You didn’t know I was coming in,’ Harry replied.

‘Honestly, mate, even if I did, I don’t think that would have stopped me.’ 

To his surprise, Harry smiled slightly. ‘It’s fine,’ he said.

‘It’s not.’ 

‘Course it is - it’s normal.’

‘It’s not, it’s normal to be sad and that, like Mum, not to turn into a - a - an angry - dickhead-’

Harry’s lips twitched again. ‘Can I introduce you to my fifteen-year-old self?’ he asked.

‘That’s different, you shouted a bit, but you didn’t start chucking stuff around,’ muttered Ron. He could now feel his ears burning hot - how ridiculous he must have looked, his collar half undone, flinging a pink flamingo with utter fury. 

‘Hmm,’ said Harry wryly. ‘Wouldn’t be too sure about that. I threw a lot more than a joke wand.’ Ron looked at him dubiously, and Harry’s sardonic smile returned. ‘Trashed up Dumbledore’s office,’ he said. 

Ron gaped at him. ‘Dumbledore’s?’ 

Harry nodded with a hum, his eyes glazing over slightly. ‘Broke all his expensive-looking, spindly little objects. Threw one of those little tables…’ A small, bashful grin came over his face as he focused back on Ron. ‘Came close to throwing the man himself.’ 

‘What did he do?’ asked Ron faintly. 

‘At the time, or to deserve it?’ 

‘Er… At the time?’ said Ron, blinking stupidly. ‘Both?’ 

‘Well, it was just after Sirius… He just… let me rant and rave for a bit,’ said Harry with a shrug. ‘Then sat me down and told me about the prophecy.’ 

Ron gaped at him, and for the first time in a while, his voice sounded normal again. ‘Knew how to kick a man when he’s down, didn’t he?’ 

Harry laughed. ‘Yeah, I s’pose.’ 

Ron looked back at the mirror, his eyes trailing over the black robes, his somber face. ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ he asked vaguely. ‘Me and Hermione? That you did that.’ 

In his peripheral version, he saw Harry looking at him carefully. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you needed help with your collar?’ 

Ron pressed his lips together, trying to stop the burning, watering sensation in his eyes. ‘It all feels so personal… But I want everyone to know. But I don’t want to talk about it… Except I really do.’ He took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘It’s agony.’ 

In the reflection of the mirror, he saw Harry looking back at him, his own eyes watering too. He nodded. ‘Are you ready?’ he asked quietly. 

Ron stared back at him for a few moments, and then nodded too. 

His godfather was dead.

He stared blankly up at the ceiling. He couldn’t seem to function as a normal person at the moment. He spent all night awake, restless and hot and his mind leaping from one thing to the other, and then all day in a sluggish, exhausted, sick state, desperate for sleep.

He kept thinking about after the tournament. When Sirius had gripped his shoulder tightly to comfort him.

Peter kept nervously glancing over his shoulder, but Sirius thought that was fair enough, all things considered. 

‘Will I have to start doing this?’ he whispered, glancing down at the bags of groceries. ‘I don’t mind, but you’ll have to write me a list-’

‘Keep your hair on, I’ll keep doing it,’ Sirius muttered back. ‘Anyway, they haven’t agree-’

The door opened, and Lily’s beaming face appeared, greeting them with such warmth that the grey October day seemed just a little brighter. She tried to help them with the bags, but both Sirius and Peter ended up competing in their gallantry and carrying through more than was reasonable to manage as she chuckled. 

James was kneeling on the living room floor with Harry, holding the baby’s hands as he stood wobbling before him. James grinned delightedly up at them as they entered. ‘Sirius! And Peter too - excellent.’ 

‘He’s not?’ grinned Sirius as they dumped the bags on the coffee table, nodding at Harry. ‘He’s not walking?’ 

‘Not far off,’ said James, beaming proudly as he looked back at his son. ‘He can if he’s holding on to something - come on, you, let’s see what’s for dinner for the next few days.’ He gently pulled on his son’s hands so that Harry clumsily put one foot in front of the other, leading him to the coffee table. 

Peter and Lily were already rifling through the bags. 

‘You’ve got eggs, bacon, butter and what not,’ Peter was saying. ‘Some bread…’

‘Oh, rhubarb!’ said Lily gleefully, pulling out the long reddish stalks. ‘Sirius, you remembered-’

‘Of course I did, Lily,’ said Sirius grandly. ‘And to go with it…’ With a flourish, he plunged his hand into another bag and, staring right at his godson with raised eyebrows, pulled out a tin. 

‘Custard!’ Lily cried, and even though Harry surely couldn’t understand why the adults were lightly cheering, he smiled, his chubby little hands gripping the edge of the table as he stomped his legs in excitement. 

But there was a slight grimace to James’s smile - Sirius understood. It must be unbelievably frustrating, for a man like James, to not even be able to leave the house, to rely on others to do things as simple as a food shop for you, counting on them to remember that you had asked for milk and that your wife had been saying she had been craving rhubarb crumble, to not be able to wander through the grocers and think, ‘oh, those cherries look particularly good,’ or ‘the aubergines are going cheap - I haven’t got a clue what to do with them though.’ 

They unpacked the shopping, Lily’s knack of charms sending each item floating away through to the kitchen to go to what Sirius was sure was the perfectly correct spot, Harry shimmying his way around the coffee table until he was in front of Sirius, who picked him up with a large bounce. 

‘Sirius!’ yelped Lily, lunging forward as Sirius tipped him upside down. ‘His head!’ 

‘He’s fine,’ Sirius drawled easily as his godson squealed with laughter. 

‘Ah,’ said James, clicking his fingers as he apparently remembered something. ‘Let me give you some extra money for next week’s shop - Harry needs more clothes.’ 

‘What? Again?’ Sirius looked at Harry’s face. ‘Stop growing,’ he told him. 

‘I tell him that all the time, he never listens,’ said James. His eyes flicked over to Peter, who had slouched on the sofa rubbing his jaw. ‘You all right, Wormtail?’ 

Peter looked up at him; he looked grey, and tired. ‘It must be awful for you both,’ he said quietly. ‘Living under this house arrest.’ 

James and Lily were both silent for a moment, Harry babbling in Sirius’s arms. ‘Well,’ said James awkwardly. ‘We’ll get used to it. Especially once I have my cloak back.’ 

‘You spoken to Moony, lately?’ Sirius asked quietly. 

‘Yeah, he was here last week,’ said James stiffly. ‘Why?’ There was an accusing edge to his tone. 

‘We-’ Harry suddenly began to wriggle indignantly in his arms, whining and reaching for his mother. 

‘He wants feeding,’ said Lily swiftly, reaching out her hands and taking him. Sirius looked away politely as she sat in the armchair with him, pulling a blanket over her shoulder. 

‘D’you - d’you want us to go in another room?’ squeaked Peter. 

Lily shot him a look. ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘I want to hear what it is the pair of you have got to say, looking all shifty like that.’ 

Sirius gave a dark, low chuckle. Of course she had noticed that they had something to say. He sighed, and sat on the sofa beside Peter. James did not sit down, but paced a little around the room, as though he did not know what to do with himself, before leaning an elbow on the mantlepiece and looking over at them irritably. 

‘I know what you’re going to say, and I told you, I think they’re coincidences-’

‘We’re not here to talk about any of that,’ said Sirius steadily. ‘Well, sort of, but that’s not the point. We’ve had an idea - I’ve had an idea,’ he corrected, as Peter sent him a panicked look. 

‘I’m not confronting Remus, Sirius,’ said James sharply. ‘It’s not - he wouldn’t, you’re just being cynical-’

‘It’s not about that!’ emphasised Sirius. He glanced over at Lily, watching them cautiously, Harry hidden beneath the blanket, then back at James. He did not look like the James Sirius knew so well - there was no cocky grin or laughter in his face, his hair was rumpled from sleep, not wind, and though his stance was as relaxed and lazy as it always was, his fingers tapped against the mantlepiece - it occured to Sirius that he hadn’t seen him stop moving since he had arrived. ‘I think Peter should be the Secret Keeper,’ he said at last. ‘Not me.’ 

James stared at him, breathing deeply. ‘You…’ his voice was hoarse. ‘You’ve changed your mind?’

‘No,’ said Sirius firmly. ‘You know I’ll always keep it. For all of you,’ he said, looking back over at Lily, who had her exposed arm curled protectively around the lump under the blanket. Sirius looked back at James. ‘But that’s the point. I’m a very obvious choice. I was the first person you thought of, wasn’t I?’ 

‘Of course you were,’ said James, who now looked rather insulted. 

‘So everyone knows that,’ said Sirius. ‘Including the people I’ve shared the secret with so they can go and visit - yes, that includes Remus,’ he said, as James exhaled in irritation and looked away. ‘You don’t want to admit it, James, but someone is-’

‘It doesn’t mean that it’s Remus,’ said Peter soothingly, looking up at James. ‘But the point is, Sirius is marked as a Secret Keeper.’ 

‘You said,’ James said hollowly, ‘you said you were prepared to die for it, that’s what you-’

‘I still am!’ said Sirius fiercely. ‘I still will, if that’s what it takes.’ James ran his hand through his hair, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, swaying slightly. ‘But the point is, while the focus is on me, while everyone assumes I’m the one keeping the secret, the actual keeper could be Peter.’ 

‘Like a diversion?’ said Lily. 

‘Yes, exactly. Let them try and trick me or track me down and torture me or whatever, let them spend all their time and energy on that, and all the while it’s actually Peter keeping you safe. Another layer of protection.’ 

James looked at Peter. ‘And you agree to this, do you?’ 

Peter hesitated, clearly thinking how to phrase it as he sighed. ‘No one would ever suspect me, Prongs. You and I have never been as close as the pair of you.’ He jerked his head at Sirius, who nodded. 

‘The pressure’s off Peter, then. I keep all the stress, he keeps the secret.’ 

James ran his hand through his hair again, looking over at his wife; Lily’s expression was unreadable to Sirius, but James seemed to understand something from it. ‘I don’t… I don’t want to be cut off from people even more. I don’t want even fewer visitors, I don’t want to leave Remus not knowing where-’

‘Those people will all still know the secret,’ said Sirius. ‘We’re not breaking the charm, just changing it slightly. All it means is I can’t tell anyone else. Nobody needs know anything has changed at all. If someone in the know is passing information, they’ll keep telling Voldemort that I’m the man to find.’ 

James looked at his wife again, and she inclined her head. He looked back at Peter. ‘You know what you’re taking on?’ he said. ‘This… This isn’t an honour or a- a-’

‘I know,’ said Peter. ‘But it’s the right thing to do.’ His face was very solemn now. ‘And I’ll do it. For you.’ 

‘It’s not for me,’ said James suddenly, his voice breaking slightly. ‘It’s not for me - it’s for my son. For my wife and son.’ 

Peter nodded rapidly, his face miserable. ‘I know. I know, mate.’ 

Lily had started to cry, silent tears slipping down her face, clutching the blanket closer to her. James was pacing in front of the fireplace, running his hand through his hair and knocking his glasses aside to rub his eyes.  

‘James,’ she said quietly. ‘It makes sense.’ 

‘I’m trying to be clever about it, mate,’ said Sirius. ‘Trying to think like they would.’ 

James stopped, and nodded. ‘If you’re sure, Peter?’ 

‘I am,’ he said.’ 

Lily had finished feeding Harry, and she fiddled under the blanket for a few moments before bringing him out from beneath it. He lay sleepily against her, his head on her shoulder. Lily and James looked at one another, and then at last he said, ‘would you be able to?’ 

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You’ll need to take him while I prepare the charm.’ 

He did so, Harry barely waking as he was transferred from one shoulder to the other, and he glanced at Sirius and Peter. ‘I need some air.’ 

‘Peter needs to stay here,’ said Lily. ‘While I prepare.’ 

James nodded, and Sirius clapped Peter on the shoulder as he rose, following James out to the garden. 

Careful not to disturb his drowsy son, James carefully lowered himself to sit on the brick wall, which dropped down onto the flowerbeds. Sirius sat beside him. ‘They for tomorrow?’ he asked, nodding at the vegetable patch.

James followed his gaze, where the dark shapes of pumpkins could be seen. ‘Oh, yes. Baby’s first pumpkin carving. I’ve got my eye on that big one. It’ll look lovely in our window for absolutely no one to see.’ 

‘Ah, all a load of American nonsense anyway,’ said Sirius easily.

‘Are you sure about this?’ James asked him, his voice faraway sounding. ‘It’s worked so far.’ 

‘It’s been nearly two years of the pair of you in hiding, but only a week under this Fidelius Charm,’ said Sirius. ‘If we’re going to be in for the long haul, we need to be strategic.’ 

‘But I know you’d never…’ 

‘Of course I wouldn’t.’ 

James looked at him over the crown of his son’s head. ‘I trust Peter, obviously. But I’m not sure he’d hold up as long under torture as you.’ 

‘That’s why we’re not telling anyone it’s him,’ said Sirius. ‘And this way, they can torture me as much as they want - I wouldn’t be able to tell them even if I wanted to.’ 

James closed his eyes for a moment, and then slowly turned his head and looked out over the long, darkening garden, stretching out into a sweeping landscape. It had been spitting with rain earlier, and it was threatening to do so again - dramatic wisps of mist rolled over the hills like waves. 

‘I’m not changing the other plan,’ said James abruptly. ‘If something goes wrong - Lily and Harry are apparating straight to yours.’ 

‘Of course.’ 

‘You have to look after them.’ 

‘I will.’ 

James gave a shuddering breath and seemed to swallow. ‘This was not how I imagined joining the Order of the Phoenix would go,’ he said, with a wry voice. 

Sirius grimaced. ‘No, nor me.’ 

‘House arrest for life and wondering if my wife will remarry once I’m dead.’

He looked at James carefully. ‘It’ll be all right though, Prongs. There won’t be any need for Lily and Harry to apparate to mine.’ 

James sniffed, and rearranged Harry so that he was cradled in his arms, now fast asleep. He looked down at him for a moment, and then back up at the rolling mist on the hills. ‘Sirius,’ he said, his voice low and calm, ‘I am going to die. At some point. For Lily and Harry. I will have failed if I don’t-’

‘Don’t be stupid, that’s what all this is about, keeping you all-’

‘Sirius,’ he said firmly, turning his head slightly towards him. ‘He will never stop hunting him. We’re only biding time. Hoping we can last long enough for… something,’ he said helplessly. ‘For Harry to grow up.’ His voice broke again. ‘He seems to be growing very fast.’ 

‘This plan is going to work,’ Sirius said. ‘I promise.’ James nodded. ‘Want a smoke?’ Sirius asked him. 

‘I’ve quit,’ James said miserably. ‘Lily says those things’ll kill you.’ 

There was a pause, before they caught each others eyes, and started to snigger. James chuckling as he looked back down at his son - who was looking more and more like him every day - brushing back some of his dark hair. 

‘Hey,’ came a soft voice. The looked over their shoulders - Peter was stood in the doorway. ‘Lily says the charm’s ready now.’ 

They followed him back inside, and James quickly put Harry to bed before they began, leaving the other three in the living room. Lily approached Peter, and placed her hand on his shoulder. 

‘No one will blame you if you back out, Wormy. We’ll understand completely.’ 

He looked at her for a moment, his mouth slightly open. Then he closed it again, and swallowed. ‘I have to,’ he said. 

‘You don’t,’ she said gently. 

‘No, Lily, I really do,’ he said. She smiled, and embraced him - Sirius saw Peter blink in surprise but then hug her back, closing his eyes tightly. 

‘Thank you,’ she said, as they broke apart. ‘You’re so brave.’ 

His lips twitched into an uneasy smile, and then James returned. At Lily’s instructions, he grasped Peter’s hand with his right, then crossed his forearms to grasp Sirius’s with his left. 

Lily did the spell. Something golden and twisting swirled around their hands. Sirius looked up from their grasped fists, and his eyes met James’s hazel ones. 

Is this a good idea? 

The Secret moved. 

‘I do feel a bit better,’ James told them, as he walked them to the door. ‘Like there’s a bit more of a united front now.’ 

‘Good,’ said Peter. ‘Are you coming to the Order meeting tomorrow night? He asked as they dropped down onto the step. 

‘Even with sparkling new security, I’d better be a good boy and stay indoors,’ said James. 

‘We were thinking of going to the pub after - I’m sure we could rustle up a disguise for you,’ said Peter. 

‘We could pinch some of the polyjuice stock,’ added Sirius. 

‘I…’ James looked rather tempted. ‘I really should…’ 

‘Plus we never acted on that bet for a pint we did,’ Peter reminded him. ‘The one you won, on whether you could jump across that ditch.’ 

‘Ah,’ said James, tilting his head and smiling slightly but still looking rather glum. ‘We’ll just say you owe me, Wormtail.’ 

‘All right, mate,’ said Sirius quietly, as Peter looked crestfallen. ‘I’ll drop in on you all in a few days, yeah? With more food and stuff.’ 

James nodded, still smiling weakly, and Sirius clapped him on the shoulder. As he and Peter reached the garden gate, he glanced back to see James turning back inside, the back of his dark head vanishing behind the closing door. 

‘There must be a way,’ said Peter, as they walked down the road. ‘To make it easier for them. Do they all have to be in hiding like that? If it’s just the baby he’s after? They can’t live like that forever, it’s not living at all.’ 

‘Ah, Peter,’ said Sirius heavily. ‘You know neither of them would stand for anything else.’ They reached a shadowy corner, out of sight of potential peeking Muggles. ‘I’ll come round before the meeting tomorrow, yeah? We can go together, I’ll have my bike with me.’ 

‘I - yeah,’ said Peter, looking rather distracted. ‘Yeah, see you then.’ 

She tried to hide it from him at first. Almost all day he had seen her jaw suddenly clenching, her eyes closing, her hand leaping to her stomach and then quickly away again.

‘Lily,’ he said sharply, when he spotted her leaning against the doorframe and turning her face away from him, ‘I know you’re in labour.’ 

‘No,’ she said, in a strained voice, ‘no, I - the baby isn’t coming until August.’ 

Set not long after Harry and Andromeda start to explain everything to Teddy.

Teddy’s difficult questions had only continued, each one throwing up new parts of the story Harry had forgotten about, or wanted to avoid. For the most part, Teddy asked him privately, but as they reached a point where they could discuss things more candidly, Teddy oblivious to Harry’s carefully measured voice and controlled expression, he started to ask them as soon as they popped into his head. 

This was why there were several uncomfortable witnesses squeezed into the Burrow’s living room on one rainy Sunday when over a game of gobstones Teddy turned to Harry and loudly, unexpectedly, said, ‘why didn’t you go into the forest and die before my parents did?' 

He and Gran had gone to St Mungos to visit them. ‘To tell them we won, and that it wouldn’t have happened without you,’ Gran had said, but of course Neville knew that they wouldn’t know. He would just be happy if either of them managed to say any words today, even if it didn’t make sense. He’d be thrilled if they managed to string together any sentences. They went through peaks and troughs like that, and maybe if they sensed that Gran was very pleased, they would be too. 

‘Hello,’ he said to them, leaning over the bed to try and catch his mother’s eyes. She turned her head, and opened her mouth as though surprised, blinking at him. Sometimes he convinced himself that there was recognition there, but she probably did that with every Healer that came along. She was just pleased to get a visitor. He could be anyone. 

Dad was much the same, though he was sitting up, rolling gobstones across the tray on his lap, transfixed. 

‘Hello, Frank!’ Gran said loudly and clearly. His head bobbed in acknowledgment, but he didn’t look up or give any indication that he was aware his mother and son were in the room. 

Neville looked back at his mother. ‘Would you like some tea?’ he asked her. 

She gaped at him for a long while, and he waited patiently. Eventually, she gave a soft, ‘ooh’ of anticipation, and he smiled at her. He fetched her a cup - he had to cool it with his wand slightly before he gave it to her, because the mug had a lid, and she had to drink it through a straw, because her hands trembled sometimes. 

Gran loudly told his parents about his glorious deeds in battle, and he only half listened, searching their faces for any kind of reaction. It was when Gran said, ‘and they’ve offered him a position as an Auror - fast tracked!’ that there seemed to be something. 

At the word Auror, Frank looked up at his mother, and stared at her for a moment, as though he were going to say something. 

‘Neville, Frank,’ Gran said loudly. ‘Your son. He’s going to be an Auror - just like you.’ 

Frank stared, his head bobbing slightly, and then turned back to his gobstones. Neville turned and beamed at his grandmother, who smiled proudly back. 

‘He recognised that word.’ 

‘He did, didn’t he?’ She looked over at Alice, still sitting up in her bed, sucking tea up through a straw and gazing into the middle distance. ‘Did you hear that, Alice, dear? Neville is going to be an Auror.’ Neville gave his mother a little wave, and she gave him a polite smile back. His heart soared. 

It could often be very tiring, visiting his parents, because he often felt very guilty about how bored he was. He never really knew what to say to them, especially because most times they simply stared back and he had no idea what was going on in their brains. He sometimes found himself naturally using a voice you would use with toddlers, and then he would worry that they could understand perfectly, and just couldn’t speak, and perhaps felt patronised or upset. 

But this time he had things to say, he had news to share with them, so he did so freely, and conversationally, and while most of the time it was clear that their minds had drifted, back to the gobstones or away to stare up at the ceiling, sometimes they seemed to look at him with something similar to attentiveness. 

‘Erm…’ said Alice, after a little while, opening her mouth as though about to say something. 

‘Yes?’ asked Neville, leaning forward and grasping her hand. Her eyes were moving slightly, as though thinking hard.

He had about given up, when she spoke again. ‘Not to be biased,’ she said, looking faintly amused. 

‘Biased about what, dear?’ Gran asked. 

But Alice looked at her as though she had forgotten that she had said anything at all. Then she yawned widely, and nestled back onto her pillows. 

Gran sighed heavily. ‘Thought we might have had something there,’ she said.

‘Hmm,’ said Neville noncommittally. He wondered, for the millionth time, whether the words got jumbled in his parents thoughts, or only when they tried to speak. Was all sense gone, or were the connections just a little confused? 

Having now experienced, many times, a taste of what they had been through, he tried to think back to the moments after, where he had been confused and muddled. It had only ever been brief, and only ever been very slight, but it had sometimes felt like everything was very thick and slow, like every thought had to fight its way through treacle. It had been very tiring too, so no wonder his mother was now drifting into sleep - stringing those four little words together, no matter what she had meant behind them, no matter where the rest of the sentence might have led, no matter if she had been thinking of something completely mad, would have been utterly exhausting. 

Far easier to just listen, and watch the swirls of colour in the gobstones as they rolled, like Frank. 

The doors of the ward opened, but neither Neville nor Gran looked over, well used to Healers and admin staff bustling in and out. It was only when Neville sensed someone approaching them hesitantly, that he glanced up, and saw, to his surprise, Harry. 

‘Sorry to intrude,’ he said, awkwardly. ‘I was told you would be here, and I…’ 

‘It’s good to see you,’ said Gran fiercely. ‘How are you? A strange few days for you, I suppose?’ 

Harry smiled weakly. ‘Rather strange, yes. Neville, could we have a quick word? I know it’s not the best time to pull you aside, but I-’

‘If this is about the Auror thing, I gave my decision this morning, I’m doing it-’

‘That’s great, but no, it’s not about that, it’s-’

‘Oh!’ said Frank’s voice, unusually alert as he looked up. ‘Hullo, James.’ 

Neville, Gran and Harry all froze, staring at Frank with amazement. Neville saw Harry glance at him, but Neville didn’t know what to do any more than Harry did. 

‘Hello, Frank,’ he said back uneasily. ‘How are you?’ 

But Frank just looked back at his gobstones, rolling loudly against the wooden tray, leaving the rest of them in silence. 

‘S-sorry,’ said Harry with a nervous glance to Neville and Gran. ‘I wasn’t sure what-’

‘Don’t apologise,’ said Neville, who felt a hungry kind of excitement, ‘that was really good.’ 

‘He hasn’t recognised me since my hair went grey,’ said Gran. ‘Look like your father, do you? I never met him.’ 

‘Yes,’ said Harry, who still looked distinctly uncomfortable. ‘Quite similar.’

Neville rose quickly, because it looked like his grandmother was about to demand that Harry come in and visit regularly, or perhaps tell him to wake Mum and see if she recognised him too. ‘What was it you wanted to chat about, Harry? Shall we go and get a coffee?’ Harry nodded, and Neville promised his grandmother he would be back soon. 

But they did not go to the hospital cafe - Neville got the impression that Harry wanted this to be a private conversation, so was not surprised in the slightest when they ducked into an empty private room, the type they moved people to when they were about to die. 

Neville leaned against the hospital bed there, and Harry stood before him, looking unsure and uncomfortable again. 

‘I’m sorry to interrupt you here,’ Harry said again, running his hand through his hair. ‘If I could have waited, I would have done.’ 

‘Sounds ominous,’ said Neville lightly. 

Harry winced. ‘I’ve… I’ve agreed to an interview. To establish some facts before the story can get too twisted… And because I think people deserve to know… At least the outline of the truth.’ 

Neville nodded. ‘Good. I was hoping you would. Not just because I want to know, but…’ he held up his hands in a vague, almost shrugging gesture. ‘Potterwatch. The D.A. That interview you did in fifth year. It’s good to make people listen.’ 

Harry nodded again, but was now looking down at his feet. ‘I had to tell you now, because I only agreed to it this morning and didn’t realise it would mean going on air this afternoon.’ 

‘Blimey,’ said Neville, though he was not sure why Harry was telling him this. 

‘I… There’s a part of it all, a part of the story… I thought it would be best if you heard it directly from me first… Rather than piecing it together later, or someone else… like your gran… working it out.’ 

Neville gave him a small smile. ‘Should I be sitting down?’ he asked lightly. 

‘Yes, I think so,’ said Harry quietly. 

Neville frowned, but nodded, and dutifully pulled out a visitors chair and sat, watching Harry closely. 

‘So… Obviously you know there was a prophecy.’ 

‘I’d pieced it together, yeah,’ said Neville. 

Harry recited the prophecy to Neville, who listened carefully, but continued to frown. 

‘All right… But I don’t see what-’

‘It could’ve applied to you,’ said Harry, his voice level and quiet. 

There was a long silence. ‘Sorry?’ said Neville eventually, staring at Harry with his mouth slightly agape. 

‘You were born at the end of July too. And your parents also defied Voldemort three times, according to Dumbledore. They went into hiding the same as my parents, because they didn’t know which of us it applied to.’ 

Neville felt as though he were spinning. 

‘But when Voldemort gave me my scar, it was him marking me as an equal - he chose me, and from then on the prophecy only related to me.’ 

‘But… He could have chosen me instead?’ 

‘He could have, yeah,’ said Harry. 

Neville could not look at Harry. He turned his eyes away, looking at the painting of a bunch of flowers on the wall. ‘You must hate me,’ he said at last. 

‘What?’ asked Harry, clearly baffled. ‘No-’

‘All of this, everything that’s happened, it could have all been me instead, but he, I don’t know, flipped a sickle or something-’

‘No, Neville-’

‘When did you know?’ Neville demanded. ‘Not… not then? Not when we went to the Department of Mysteries?’

Harry seemed to hesitate, and then, ‘yes, Dumbledore told me that evening-’

‘Merlin, you must have spent the whole of sixth year detesting me-’

‘Of course I didn’t,’ said Harry, rather sharply. ‘Neville, he chose me, but…’ Harry seemed to take a steadying breath. ‘But that was why Bellatrix Lestrange and the others came after your parents. They thought that they might know… what had happened. Why Voldemort had gone.’ 

Neville looked back to the door, as though expecting to see his parents wander in, dreamlike and smiling absent-mindedly. ‘Oh,’ he said. He had always wondered why it had happened a week after Voldemort had fell. Gran had always said it was the Death Eater’s last, reckless stand, doing as much damage as they could because they knew the end was there. 

The enormity of it all seemed to root him to his chair, grasping at him and squeezing until he couldn’t think of any words, let alone form them. 

‘That prophecy… it ruined things for both of us,’ said Harry. ‘I’ve never resented you. I’ve never envied you. I’m only telling you so it didn’t come as a shock to realise it through the wireless.’ 

Neville swallowed, and breathed heavily. ‘Right,’ he said with a sigh. 

‘I’m sorry,’ Harry muttered.

Neville tried for a wry smile. ‘Thank goodness he picked you, eh? War would have been over before it started if it had been me. Wouldn’t have lasted half the time you did.’ 

‘Sure you would have,’ said Harry, and to Neville’s mild surprise he was smiling slightly too. ‘Point of the prophecy, really, wasn’t it? Whoever he marked as an equal… Would have got him in the end.’ He tilted his head as he considered. ‘And… You did, in the end, didn’t you? Killed Nagini. Essentially told him to fuck off in front of everyone. He probably thought he’d picked the wrong baby in that moment.’ 

Neville stared at him for a moment, and then at Harry’s slight grin, spluttered with shocked laughter. ‘You’re a better man than me, Harry,’ he said. ‘I’d have gone mad with resentment.’ 

Harry shook his head, and Neville saw his eyes stray to the door too. ‘No, I… I reckon in some ways I’ve had the easier lot. I’m… I’m sorry your dad seemed to sort of recognise me. I think that would have upset me, if it had been me.’ 

‘Honestly, I’m just… so happy when he manages to speak,’ said Neville. ‘When I get a little glimpse of who he is. Used to be more in the early days, when he’d recognise people in the family sometimes, and Gran, but as everyone’s aged, both of them just… Haven’t been able to keep up.’ 

‘I’m sorry,’ said Harry gently. 

‘I still get to see them,’ said Neville. ‘Some of them. Count myself lucky.’

 Harry was looking at him with a strange expression - Neville could have mistaken it for being impressed, or admiration. 

‘How different things could have been,’ said Neville. 

Harry nodded, and his lips quivered into a mild smile. ‘I… er… I think we would have been childhood friends. Our parents knew each other through the Order, they were friends.’ 

‘I wonder what we would have been like.’ 

‘I wonder that too.’ 

They returned to the ward where Frank and Alice lived. Neville hoped that Harry might spark something else in his father, or maybe his mother, who had woken again and was now shuffling by the windowsill. But Frank said nothing, and though Alice stared with a slight frown at Harry, after a few moments she approached Neville. 

She held out her hand, and Neville took the chocolate frog wrapper from her. ‘Thank you,’ he said. 

Spinning, squeezing, breathless, they were vanishing away from terror, from that pale, enraged face and grasping hand, but she could still feel the blast hitting her, still felt Harry slump and nearly slip out of her grasp-

She landed with a loud crack inside the tent, and was immediately pushed to the floor under Harry’s collapsed weight. ‘Harry! Get off-’

She yelped, but he seemed to be completely unconscious, she could barely move beneath him, her face gasping for air over his shoulder. 

With all the effort she could muster, she pushed and heaved against him so that they rolled right over, him splayed on his back and her scrambling to crouch over him - the polyjuice was wearing off, the balding man was de-aging and dark hair was returning to his head, but he was deathly pale, his eyes closed. 

@quidditchleaguenet‘s december challenge: favorite friendships