Work Text:
“Tis the best Butterbeer ever...” Neville's savouring the taste of his slurring words, too.
The Headless Queen is the best pub, Lupin's Halloween party the best one ever. His allies from all walks of life, gathered to celebrate the fifteenth anniversary of Voldemort's first fall, are Neville's mates now.
His best friend's specs reflect orange lanterns. "That's not Butterbeer. The goblet's smoking." A suspicious frown makes the face ever... cuter.
Poor Harry, anxious to avoid attention, isn't mingling with half-goblins or other revolutionary creatures. "It's too crowded," he complains.
Neville downs his drink. “Come out with me – for a walk!”