Chapter Text
Wherein Neville grows things, gets a visitor and generally more than he asked for.
Neville still missed his grandmother terribly. But he liked to have the big house to himself. And he absolutely loved the greenhouse. His grandmother had it restored as a gift to him when he took his NEWTs Last year he finally had afforded an expansion spell that made it thrice the size it had been. A nursery wasn’t a bad business, and he did all right. It was a little lonely sometimes, but he comforted himself that at least there was no one hanging over his shoulder to make him nervous and drop things.
It was going to be a good day, Neville decided as he poured himself a large cup of coffee in the kitchen. One reason for his good mood might have been that the batch of Sneezewort and Hellebore Professor Snape had ordered had been collected yesterday, and thankfully the Professor had not shown up in person.
He thought a little about Christmas. His gran would have been appalled if she knew Neville hadn’t put up a single decoration this year. Traditions like that just seemed a little pointless, since, for the first time, there would be no guests staying over and no Christmas dinner at the Longbottom residence. He hadn’t invited anyone, and he didn’t think his relatives expected it either. The cousins were still annoyed their grandmother had left everything to Neville. But he didn’t mind the lack of concern. In fact, he was quite relieved. He would visit his parents, as usual, that was one tradition he would never let go of, even though they were unable to tell Christmas from any other day. What he was going to do afterwards he hadn’t decided yet. There was no lack of invitations. His friends had been concerned that he shouldn’t be alone the first Christmas without his grandmother, and several of them had invited him to spend Christmas with them.
But there was still time to decide. The upcoming weeks would be filled with enchanting mistletoe and holly and flower arrangements. A lot of hard work, but the money was good. And of course, he had the special plants he'd been growing for Seamus, who would come later that week and collect it. God, he wished Seamus hadn't talked him into growing that kind of things. But what do you do when an old friend asks you, one that you really are indebted too? And it had been quite fun, he had to admit, when he was fertilising and cropping the exotic little cacti into perfection. He had hidden them in a corner, behind the Carnivorous Carnations and Fanged Geranium. None of his customers ventured even close to those. He didn’t want anyone to notice and possibly recognise what they were. Neville wasn’t sure they even were legal to grow, and he certainly wouldn’t ask anyone about it.
But this fine morning he didn’t want to think about those things and almost started to whistle as he walked to the greenhouse. And stopped abruptly at the entrance, nearly dropping the cup. The day was definitely not going as expected. In his favourite wicker chair sat someone Neville had never thought he would see again. Ever. He looked a little tired and dishevelled, like he hadn’t slept, but otherwise as poised as he used to. Neville felt awkward in his old sweater and jeans in front of him. His visitor rose from the chair, stretched, smiled and held out his hand.
Neville stood frozen and stared.
"Hello, Longbottom," Draco Malfoy said, "how about a cup of coffee? It smells divine."
"Malfoy?" Neville finally found his voice, "what are you doing here?"
"I would really, really like a cup before we talk about our business arrangement."
"We don't have a business arrangement."
"Oh, I think we have."
Neville felt a headache coming up. It was too early in the morning for arguments, so he got Malfoy his coffee. He sat down in the other chair and drained half the cup in one gulp. Then he looked at his guest.
"Why are you here, Malfoy?"
"I've come to take care of the things you've been growing for me."
"I haven't been growing anything for you!"
"Take it easy, Longbottom," Malfoy said, "you have. I take it Finnigan didn't tell you."
"Seamus?" Neville said, getting a really bad feeling. "You mean…"
"Yes. The plants you've been growing for him were really for me. Finnigan owed me
one."
"I'm going to kill him!"
"Well, you weren't supposed to know, but he's incapacitated at the moment, so I had to take care of it myself."
"What have you done to Seamus?"
"I haven't done anything! He had some kind of family crisis and had to return to
Ireland."
"The coward," Neville muttered under his breath.
"Wait here," he said, "I want to hear this from Seamus himself."
"Well, don't take my word for it," Malfoy said as Neville went back into the house.
After a short and slightly confused fire-chat with a strangely tight-lipped Seamus, who admitted, apologised, but didn’t want to look him in the eye, Neville returned to the greenhouse.
"You have to harvest the things yourself; I don't want anything to do with that," Neville said.
"There's another thing. A little complication," Malfoy said and played with a heavy silver ring on his little finger.
"What?"
"I have to stay here and prepare things. Finnigan assured me that you had plenty of space"
"You can't just stay here, Malfoy!"
"Why not? Do you have houseguests coming?"
Neville sighed.
"Why do you have to stay here? Why do you even want to? Don't you have a home of your own?"
Malfoy laughed.
"I don't think my parents would appreciate it if they knew what I'm going to do."
"Do they even care?"
"My father stays very much on the right side of the law right now. He wouldn’t like it. He wouldn’t like it at all."
"I can imagine. So he's started a new life after Azkaban?"
"You don’t know the half of it. Anyway, don't worry. You will get paid. When I sell the stuff, you get your share."
"Money's not what I'm worried about right now. Why do you do this, Malfoy? It's not like you need the money."
"You don't know anything. Of course I need the money!"
"The Malfoy fortune isn’t enough for you?"
"It's not mine, and my father has become…a little stingy. He has some ridiculous notion that I ought to get a job. Something about growing up, being a responsible citizen and crap like that."
"How ridiculous," Neville said.
"Oy, sarcasm," Malfoy said, "not what I expected from you, Longbottom. Anyway, I do need a bit of extra funding, and at the end of this month, there will be lots of opportunities I cannot miss. So I'm in a bit of a hurry."
"No." Neville crossed his arms and glared at Malfoy, who seemed totally unimpressed.
"No? Well, I imagine the authorities would be very interested in what you're growing in your little greenhouse then."
"You'd blackmail me so you'll get to stay here?"
"Sure. Don't take it personally."
Neville suddenly felt really tired. If he went back to bed, maybe this would turn out to be a bad dream. He realised he didn’t have the time nor the energy to argue.
"Okay," he shrugged, "do whatever you like. I have to work."
"Okay? I don't have to threaten you with bodily harm, terrible vengeance and illegal, painful curses?"
"No."
Malfoy looked really surprised.
"Well, let's get started, then," Malfoy said.
"You do what you have to. Don’t touch anything else. Some of the plants are really cranky in this weather," Neville said.
He pondered if he conveniently should have forgotten to tell Malfoy about that and hope that the Fanged Geranium would take a bite out of him.
Malfoy seemed eager to start and after Neville had made sure he could handle the harvesting himself he went about his own business.
After a couple of hours of performing the Cantatus charm to make the groups of hyacinths, tulips and Narcissus Papyraceus play Adeste Fideles and Silent Night, he heard footsteps on the floor.
"Phew, it's hot in here," Malfoy said.
"Did you come to tell me that, or did you want anything else?" Neville said a little testily.
Malfoy took out a monogrammed handkerchief and dabbed his forehead.
"No, I just wanted to inform you of the temperature," Malfoy said. "Seriously, Longbottom, I'm all done. Now I want to know where I can set up my equipment. Preferably somewhere with a fireplace that's not connected to the Floo."
"What equipment? And why do want a fireplace?"
"Don’t look so surprised. Even you must remember that to make a potion you usually need fire."
"You're making a potion!" Neville almost shouted, "I thought you just wanted the plants."
"They’ll be of no use if you don’t prepare them properly. But don't worry, Longbottom, I'll make it up to you. And I need a large cauldron too."
He let Malfoy use one of the oldest guest-rooms, the one with the sagging bed he never had time to replace, and the assorted pieces of furniture he didn’t want. There was nothing in there he would miss if Malfoy's potion experiment failed.
Malfoy had hardly settled in before he managed to charm Neville's two very old and cranky house-elves to run over themselves, eager to please. Neville didn’t mind. He was just grateful that he didn’t have to babysit Malfoy. And the house-elves' ministrations could be a little overbearing sometimes, so it was just fine that they had something else to occupy them.
Neville concentrated on his business. The upcoming season meant early mornings and late nights, and an endless list of orders for flower arrangements. Even though the two of them didn’t communicate much the first day, it wasn’t as bad as he thought, having another person there. Neville found it strangely comforting to hear Malfoy humming when he passed by the open door to Malfoy's room.
Neville felt a strange prickling sensation in the back of his head like he was being watched. He turned around and saw Malfoy sitting on top of one of the workbenches. This became something of a habit and happened several times a day. Usually, he brought tea or coffee and beckoned Neville to take a break. When he didn’t act superior or mean, which he didn’t, Malfoy was quite funny. Neville found that he actually enjoyed himself. He had never thought he could be this relaxed in Malfoy's company.
Most of the time he tried to ignore the fact that it was Draco Malfoy who stayed in his house. And he didn’t think about it, no, not at all. And he certainly didn’t get the elves to put an extra mattress in the bed, or make them bring Malfoy a bottle of witch hazel bath oil when he complained that his back ached. No. Neville didn’t think about it. He never walked slowly past the door to catch a glimpse of blond hair and see Malfoy waltzing around in the room, chopping and stirring and doing whatever he was supposed to be doing. It wasn’t like he'd had a huge crush on Malfoy in the seventh year. It wasn’t like that at all. And he was truly and completely over such childish notions, anyway.
The seventh day Malfoy jumped up on the wooden bench right beside him.
"What do you want now?" Neville said.
"Nothing. My potion has to steep for a couple of days, and I'm bored. I wondered if I could help you with anything."
Neville almost fell backwards. He stared incredulously at Malfoy.
"Why?" he finally asked.
"Can't I offer to help without having my motives questioned?"
"No."
"Okay, I'm bored. But also grateful that you let me stay here. In fact, I had no other place to go."
"You threatened to blackmail me."
"I would never have done such a thing," he said in a mock-hurt tone.
Neville rolled his eyes but smiled when he turned his head. Malfoy noticed and squealed with laughter.
He decided to put Malfoy to work and asked him to fertilise the winter roses. And Malfoy, to his great surprise, did, even if he complained that the fertiliser "smelled like shit."
"It is," Neville said; something that Malfoy found excruciatingly funny.
Malfoy seemed to enjoy himself. He was humming and telling stories to Neville, who found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on what he was doing.
After a long and winding tale about his mother, an ogre, a priceless emerald necklace and the French Minister of Magic Malfoy suddenly said:
"You know those rumours aren’t true, don’t you?"
"Aren't they?" Neville had absolutely no idea what Malfoy was talking about.
"Even if it was nude, it wasn’t porn," Malfoy said, "the photos were all very tasteful, I'm assured, almost art. Hardly hardcore, even if it was for Golden Wand. (The Magazine where Wizards bare it all.) I was an exotic dancer at The Swish and Flick Club for a while and that started the rumour, I guess. But it's the only real job I've had. And did my father appreciate that? No, he didn’t. I had to stop after a while anyway. Got a terrible rash from the g-strings, you know."
"Oh." Neville wasn’t sure what to say or if he really wanted to know.
"My father got really upset when I told him, not about the rash, but about the photos. You should have seen him. He completely lost it and didn’t notice that his wig got caught on a spear that was mounted on the wall. I was quite drunk so I just rolled on the floor laughing. Regretted it badly the next day of course."
"His wig?" Neville said, not sure what he had heard.
"Of course he's got a wig. He has no body hair at all, the damnedest thing you ever saw. Dark Magic accident. At least it's not hereditary, so I won't go bald prematurely. If you want to intimidate my father, just mention his wig."
"I think I want to forget I ever heard it," Neville said.
"He threw me out, you know. Told me I could come back when I was ready to settle down like a normal twenty-year-old. I told him that normal twenty-year-olds mostly were interested in sex, drugs and rock'n roll, not necessarily in that order. He didn’t know what rock'n roll was, so that just made him angrier."
"I didn’t know," said Neville, and wondered what rock'n roll was. "Where are you living now?"
"Right here, right now," Malfoy said happily and began to hum again while picking up a red Gerbera and putting it behind his ear.
"Malfoy, are you on something?"
"I'm blabbering, aren’t I?"
"A bit," Neville said, "I don’t mind. But you just put a flower in your hair."
"If you're going to San Francisco, be sure to put some flowers in your hair," Malfoy sang.
"What?" Neville said.
"Oh, hm, yes. I must have been standing in the fumes too long. When I think about it, everything looks a little purple around the edges. It's pretty. What are you doing?"
"Spell-wrapping enchanted Mistletoe," Neville answered, "There's a hovering charm on them, so they tend to float around in the room. It's very popular at Christmas parties."
"I can imagine that," Malfoy said, "I take it you are doing quite well, then. Business-wise, I mean. But how about…"
"I manage," Neville said quickly before Malfoy got into asking something more personal. "How about a cup of tea?" he added.
Malfoy said he thought that was a great idea and skipped down the aisle.
In the kitchen, Neville noticed he had discarded his robes and was wearing a shirt with a picture of hideous monsters and red letters that apparently advertised medieval torture devices. Malfoy seemed to have noticed him staring.
"Nice, isn’t it?" he said and pointed at the shirt.
"It fits you perfectly," Neville said. "If anyone should advertise torture devices, it would be you."
"Oh thank you. But it's not. It's a music group," Malfoy said, "Muggle music."
"That's a little unexpected, coming from you," Neville said.
"I wear it to blend in on concerts," Malfoy said, "the Muggle kids wear things like
this."
"Why do you go to Muggle concerts?" Neville asked.
"You don’t think I would sell dangerous, not to mention illegal potions to wizards, do you?"
"Yes, I would."
"Do you really think I would risk my good name and reputation for a mere couple of galleons?"
"What reputation?"
"Oy, that hurt," Malfoy said, "Really. Neville, I think I have a bad influence on you. But the truth is that wizards are really picky when it comes to potions. Muggles will buy anything, especially if they're drunk."
"Neville?"
"That's your name, isn’t it? Besides, we aren't in school anymore. And since we're practically living together, I'd prefer it if you'd call me Draco."
Neville just nodded and decided not to comment.
"But Mal- I mean Draco, it's dangerous to get involved with Muggles. Wouldn’t the Ministry be after you if they knew? Not to mention the Muggle authorities."
"How sweet, you're worried about me."
"I am not." And that was a lie, Neville realised.
Suddenly Malfoy was standing in front of him. Too close, at least for Neville's peace of mind. Just as Neville was going to ask what he was doing, Malfoy leaned in and kissed him on the lips.
"What?" Neville tried to say, but it came out more like "mwhup." Malfoy's lips were very soft.
"Mmm," sighed Malfoy contentedly and pressed his lips to Neville's again, this time accompanied by tongue. Neville was so shocked that he just let it happen. At least that was what he told himself.
Neville finally broke the kiss.
"Why did you do that?" he asked.
"Why not?" Malfoy winked at him. "Besides, it's traditional." He pointed upwards.
Neville looked up. A stray piece of mistletoe was hovering over his head.
"I'm all for traditions," he said and kissed Malfoy again.