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"Neville!" Ron called across the Common Room. "Neville, am I ever glad to see you."
"Hi Ron," Neville said, smiling up from his Potions essay. (He'd been finding Potions much more enjoyable now that Professor Slughorn was teaching it.)
"Neville, we have an exam in Herbology tomorrow." He sounded and looked anxious beyond anxious.
"Yeah, we do." Neville raised an eyebrow at him.
"Well, uh," Ron said as he ran a hand through his hair, "I didn't know this until yesterday and, uh, I haven't the faintest idea what it's on."
Neville tapped his parchment with his wand and it curled up, then put away his ink and quills. "You've been snogging Lavender too much, Ron."
"It's not like I want to, she's always on my bloody face." He sneered, after making sure they were alone.
"Why don't you ask Harry?"
"Harry's too busy with--well, you know."
"Hermione?" Neville suggested, but as soon as he said the name, he realized what a mistake it was.
"Neville," Ron said, exasperated, "she sicced angry canaries on me, remember? Besides, you're better at Herbology than she is."
Neville blushed slightly. "I highly doubt that."
"No, really, Neville. You're the best in our class, I think." He got out his Herbology textbook and sat down next to Neville. "So, what the bloody hell is this exam on?"
Neville explained all about everything they'd learned over the term until Ron closed his book, proclaimed that he would "never get this" and put his head down.
Neville wanted to touch Ron--to rub his back, to pat his arm. Hermione did it all the time when he, Neville, gave up on himself. But she was a girl and Neville was not and he wasn't sure that it fit in with the wizard-to-wizard dynamic they had had for the last five years, so he settled for punching him lightly on the arm and saying, "Codswallop."
Ron responded by rolling his head a bit and moaning that he was hopeless.
Just then, Neville's memory kicked in. (It was usually a hit-and-miss ordeal, but it always came to his rescue when he needed it.) "Ron, I want to show you something." When Ron didn't respond, he tugged on his sleeve, and eventually Ron got up, his forehead red from leaning.
Neville led him into the boys dormitory, and knelt down to pull something out from under his bed. It was an ancient book: the cover was fraying, the pages stuck out in odd directions, the once-gleaming gold letters were reduced to shiny flecks in depressed leather. He handed it to Ron, who opened it. It was blank.
Ron quirked an eyebrow at him. "Neville?"
"Here," he said, hoisting the book and himself up on to his bed. "Look." He pulled out his wand, and tapped the blank page. Then, speaking very clearly, he spoke to it: "Herbology."
Ron's eyes widened as writing began to appear on the page. They were obviously class notes, but in all different handwritings and colors. It listed everything Ron could ever want to know about Herbology, and a few things he didn't.
Neville smiled at him. "It was a birthday gift from my great-uncle," he said. "Said it's been in our family for generations. Said he just found it this summer when he was going through some of my father's old things."
"Neville, what is this?" Ron was staring, transfixed, at the book, whose pages were now overflowing with information.
"It's a tutor book. Every time you write in it, it categorizes the information and you can bring it up with a simple spell. Though, they're extremely rare. I think only a handful were made. Someone way back in my family found this one in the Hogwarts library, enchanted it, and never returned it." He grinned guiltily.
"Enchanted it?"
"It'll only respond to someone with the last name 'Longbottom'," he said, adding quickly, "But I'd be happy to share it any time you like. Saved my neck in Transfiguration last week."
Without looking up, Ron said, "This is amazing. You don't mind if I..." His voice trailed off and he pointed as his own bed.
Neville waved him off. "Not at all. Just, put it back when you're done if you don't mind."
"Of course," Ron said, settling in. He looked up at Neville, smiled, then put the book aside and stood up to give him a small hug. "Thanks," he said quietly.
"It's nothing," he said, and made his way back to the Common Room to finish his essay with a warm glow in his chest that he was quite sure wasn't there before.