Chapter Text
The Year Is 2016
"Neville! Neville, someone is breaking into the shop!"
Neville Longbottom rushes out of the bathroom —a towel hastily wraps around his waist with a flick of his hand— at the sound of his friend's frantic cries. He touches the two-way mirror on the wall in his sitting room.
"Lavender, Apparate to the manor!"
The witch's eyes are wide and full of fear. Neville feels rage fill him for the bastard that put it there.
"I tried, b-but it didn't work, neither did the Floo."
"Anti-Apparition wards and they blocked the network. Fuck! I'm coming to get you. Can you get to the basement and bolt the door?"
"Ye-"
There's a flash of light, and the connection is severed; her mirror has been hit with a spell.
The ex-Hit Wizard runs back into his bedroom, quickly pulls on the clothes Orchid had placed on the bed earlier, then sends his Patronus to Harry.
Grabbing his wand from a side table, Neville Disapparates to the rear exterior of Lavender's shop, the entrance to her apartment.
With encouragement from Angelina and her other friends, Lavender had opened her own beauty parlour in Hogsmeade. Unfortunately, there are some witches and wizards who don't want a werewolf, partial or not, owning businesses and living in their community.
After reconnecting and getting to know each other somewhat at Hermione's home in Trinidad, Neville and Lavender began greeting each other in passing. Then one day, Neville rescued her from a mob of wizards during a vulnerable time of the month for her. They've been close ever since.
The Warding at the apartment's back door recognises him, and the wizard opens it. Looking toward the other end of the corridor, Neville notices the cabinet door into the shop is open. The wizard tightens his grip on his wand.
The house is quiet, which is concerning because he knows Lavender; the feisty witch would never quietly give in.
A Homenum Revelio shows that no one is nearby. However, as Neville nears the door to the basement, the spell exposes the energies of a group of people gathered there.
Silent and invisible, Neville carefully turns the handle.
The basement is dark, and the wizard closes the door behind him, taking a moment to let his eyes adjust. Neville makes his way down the stairs, then stops, marking the darker shadows of the room.
A shadow -too large to be Lavender- makes a slight movement and in an instant, Neville fires a silent Stunner at it. A body drops, a woman shrieks, lights go on, the wizard is blinking at the brightness, and then there are loud voices.
"Happy birthday!"
Neville's eyes focus just as Lavender barrels into him, wrapping her arms around his waist, her head barely reaching past his chest. He dissolves his Disillusionment Charm, not surprised that she can sense him.
"I'm sorry, Neville. They made me do it, I swear." Lavender looks up at him with a hopeful smile, ignoring a whisper of ‘snitch’ from Hermione. "I got you a brilliant gift to make up for it."
Neville shakes his head in exasperation as the adrenaline slowly trickles away.
"I won't give you a stern talking-to if you promise not to do that again unless it's a real emergency Lavender. I was worried."
"I promise not to do that again unless it's an emergency." With an apologetic look, the witch rests her head on his chest again. "I'm sorry I upset you."
Neville stares down at the top of her head. Her hair is a mane of soft, dark and kinky waves, its fragrance reminiscent of his rose garden at the manor. With a sigh, he wraps his hand around her.
"I told you they're a thing."
"No we're not, Draco," Neville and Lavender say at the same time.
"Who did I hit with the Stunner?" Neville asks, looking around at his friends.
Harry is smirking at him knowingly, with Hermione beside him. Dean is standing next to Luna and Draco. Angelina is sitting on the floor next to George, rubbing his chest as he groans. Denise is sitting on Severus' lap on a sofa chair in the corner of the room, staring at each other.
"Do they ever turn it off?" Neville asks, realising that he's never seen them apart.
"Have you seen Snape lately?" Lavender murmurs as everyone gathers around them, with Harry conjuring a candlelit cake, "I'm shocked she lets him out the bedroom, not to mention, their quarters at Hogwarts."
"Ugh, you have no idea," Hermione replies, with a roll of her eyes, "the number of hormonal teenage witches that ogle him now. It's obscene."
Harry folds his arms and gives his wife a look.
"Um-hmm, I seem to remember a certain teenage witch who, up until our wedding night, couldn't keep—"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence, mister," Hermione says, poking Harry's arm.
Neville shakes his head, smiling in relief that all his friends are okay. Releasing Lavender, the wizard moves toward the cake as everyone —even Denise and Severus— gather around him.
There are thirty-six candles for his number of birthdays. Nine of them represent well-wishes from his friends present, and one is unlit for his own wish.
Neville touches the unlit candle with the tip of his finger, and it ignites as he thinks of his deepest desire. Then taking a deep breath, he blows them all out.
The smoke from ten candles rises, intertwining in the air above him. Forming into a star-shaped mist, it explodes into a shower of sparkling lights around him.
The wizard smiles with genuine happiness and gratitude.
"Thank you for the well-wishes, guys."
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
"Fuck, Marry, Kill. Avengers edition!" Hermione ignores the ladies' groans as she spreads out Lavender's DVDs for inspiration. "You all know the rules—"
"This feels teenager-ish ... how old are we again?" Angelina says, sprawled on the floor with Luna and Lavender, in front of the sofa.
"Old enough to use the word fuck without it sounding forced and immature," Denise says, not joined to Severus for once. Though, Lavender can sense the witch's jitteriness.
The men have chosen to watch a manly movie down in the comfortably decorated basement lounge. The ladies joined Lavender in her upstairs living room to binge-watch their favourite episodes of Grimm, Supernatural, and season one of Lucifer.
"As I was saying," Hermione continues, "in case you've forgotten the rules. You can't have sex with who you marry, and you can have sex with the person you choose to fuck only once."
Lavender chuckles at the witch, who used to be a goody-two-shoes Gryffindor Prefect, using the word fuck and sex. She zips her lips shut at Hermione's glare and flicks away the key.
"Here we go. So from my left, Denise, whom would you fuck, marry and kill? Thor, Loki, Tony Stark."
"Shit, yuh just throw three gorgeous men my way just so?" Denise taps her wine glass with the tip of a manicured fingernail as she thinks. "I'd fuck Loki, marry Tony Stark and kill Thor."
"What?"
"No way!"
"Why would you do that to Thor?" Someone whines.
"Luna, same characters," Denise says, grinning at her friend on the floor, "who would you fuck, marry and kill?"
"Hmm, I think I'd fuck Tony Stark, marry Loki and kill Thor."
Angelina huffs playfully beside her.
"Oh come on, do you all hate Thor? Because I'd definitely fuck Tony Stark, marry Thor and kill Loki."
Lavender giggles, "We know, Angie. Because you married the wizarding world's version of Tony Stark and Thor blended into one. The wealthy inventor slash brave, goofy Gryffindor."
Angelina chuckles at her friend's description, nodding.
"Then what about you, Lavender?"
"I'd definitely kill Thor. Sorry, Angie. But it's so hard to choose between Tony Stark and Loki."
"Yeah, " Hermione says, leaning against Denise, and smirking a little, "they're quite similar, aren't they? Except, one is a brilliant muggle, and the other's a brilliant sorcerer. Well, while you're deciding, I'd fuck Tony Stark, marry Loki and kill Thor. Of course, as you all can see, I married my Loki."
The other witches snort and giggle at her wishful thinking until Lavender makes her decision.
"Then, that leaves me no choice. I think I'll balance things out —again, sorry Angie— and so, I fuck Loki, marry Tony Stark, and kill Thor."
The game goes this way for some time with the witches changing characters, movies and then episodes.
"Grimm's Sean, Nick, and Munroe."
"Supernatural's Dean, Sam, and Castiel."
"Lavender, your turn. Amenadiel, Lucifer, and Dan."
"Oooh, this one's easy. I'd fuck Amenadiel, marry Lucifer, and kill Dan."
"I'd have said you'd have fucked Lucifer, and married Amenadiel," says Luna.
"Oh, no, no, no. My way, at least I'd get to fuck that lickable angel once. Plus, I'd be married to a sexy devil; one who'd have an unbelievable number of ways of making me cum, beyond penetration."
"Hmm, good point."
Neville and the other men turn the volume back up on the TV, as Harry releases the listening spell, once they realise that the ladies aren't using actual wizards in their game.
"You might have to keep an eye on your witch, Neville." Severus lounges casually on a sofa chair as he glances sideways at his sort of son. "I've seen this Lucifer character, thanks to Denise, and he bears a striking resemblance to Rodulphus Lestrange."
Harry nods in agreement while George and Draco look on, entertained.
"Lavender and I are just friends," Neville says, relaxing on the sofa with an arm extended on the backrest, then quickly looks at Harry, "Lestrange is dead, yeah?"
Harry nods.
"In Azkaban, some years ago."
Dean looks away from the television.
"You and Lavender really aren't dating then," he says, looking hopeful, "so you wouldn't mind if I ask her out?"
Neville snorts, shaking his head.
"That's up to you, mate."
Dean nods in satisfaction and turns back to the movie.
Neville looks down, thinking of his Soulmate. His enjoyment of the evening diminishes when he thinks of what the universe wants for him.
The wizard startles as his brother's hand clasps his shoulder, and Harry leans over, his voice softened.
"Are you certain you want Dean to make a move on Lavender? He might not be Lucifer Morningstar, but he just might be the long lost son of Idris Elba." Harry tilts his head, looking at Neville with a fake grave look. "And once he hits that, she'll never — ow!"
Harry rubs his arm where Neville punched him, his face screwed up in pain even with his laughter. George and Draco pretend to watch the movie as they try to contain their snickers. Severus rolls his eyes at the boys' antics, and Dean only glances at them briefly, too engrossed in the movie.
"Don't talk about her like that," Neville says calmly, "And how many times do we have to tell you guys that she and I are just friends?"
"When it sounds believable," George says, gesturing with his hands as he tries to find the words, "it just seems that uh..."
"Doth protests too much," Draco continues, pointing his beer bottle at Neville, "is what my friend here is probably trying to say."
Geoge nods, his brow furrowing.
Neville takes a large swig of his beer.
"If that's what you all think, then so be it. Lavender and I are friends, and that's all we'll ever be."
A tingling sensation makes itself known and the wizard dismisses it; which is fine, he's been ignoring it for years.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Later that evening, when all her friends are gathered in the alley behind her apartment, Lavender keeps Neville from leaving.
"I hope you didn't think I forgot about your gift," she says, drawing out the box from behind her and holding it out to him.
"You've been asking me, for over a year, to make a Glamour for you." Lavender gazes earnestly into his eyes. "But Neville, you don't need a Glamour Charm. You're perfect the way you are. You just need an entirely new wardrobe to see what I see."
Neville opens the box to find a small, freestanding mirror in an ornate frame.
"Umm..." he hums with a confused smile.
"I made this minor Abysm just for you. It has a Shrinking Charm on it at the moment, and it extends into a full length, and very heavy, mirror. So put it on the floor before you remove the spell." Fiddling with the scarf around her throat, she smiles nervously. "It shows you thousands of different styles of clothing and accessories —muggle and wizard— that would look perfect on you, and only you. I'll come by and show you how it works tomorrow."
"Thank you, this is an incredible gift. You're an amazing witch Lavender Brown." Neville's smile is genuine this time, and Lavender places a gentle kiss on his cheeks.
"Happy birthday, Neville."
Lavender walks him out the door, and he joins the others. Apparently, the men have plans for Harry’s birthday in the next half hour.
"Lavender."
"Hey, Dean. Are you joining them on their night of debauchery?"
"Yeah." The wizard straightens the flaps of his jacket and Lavender is hit by the scent of Gucci Guilty cologne. Dean smiles, his dimples highlighted, and he slowly licks his lips. “So I was wondering if I could take you to dinner sometime?”
Lavender brushes the dark curls of her hair aside, blushing at his Blair Underwood-meets-L.L. Cool J's brand of charm.
"I'd like that."
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Two days following her friend's date with Dean, Angelina visits Lavender after spending all day at her own store stocking new toys.
"Merlin, I never get tired of seeing that wall of water," Angelina says, looking at Lavender's main workspace, "You're as good at Charms as Denise, maybe even better. Why didn't you apply for the teaching position at Hogwarts?"
Lavender turns from closing up the shop, throwing Angelina a what the fuck look.
"Cuz I am not that kind of teacher, Angie, you know that"
With a single spell, Lavender tidies the small selection of custom cloaks and dress robes on the racks, then she wanders over to the ‘wall’ of water —the Black Abysm mirror— her friend is admiring.
"Sometimes I wonder what I'd have seen if I'd stood in front of this mirror as a teenager," Angelina says softly, "was the spell difficult to create?"
"Very, since it’s not just one Spell, or one Potion, nor one Rune. I had to master Divination before I was finally able to get it to work." Lavender touches the cabinet with jewelled purses arranged neatly on its shelves, and it slides forward silently. "I never thought I'd be able to combine two of the things I love the most about magic and build a career."
Angelina follows Lavender through the hidden door that leads to her apartment above the shop. "If it wasn't for you, I would have still thought that most forms of Divination —minus the kind Sages use— were rubbish."
The witch then begins unpacking the take-out she's brought for the two of them.
"I'm glad to hear that. Professor Trelawney caused it to have a bad reputation, but she helped me a lot all those years before I could — before I was able to manage the glamour curse." Lavender gets drinks to go with their Chinese, pausing to stare at the expensive wine. "So much has changed for the better since you and the others came into my life. I’m just, I'm really grateful."
Angelina reaches over the counter and gently squeezes Lavender's hand, then they take seats on the barstools.
"So," Angelina begins, dipping her shrimp wonton into the oyster sauce, "how was your date with Dean Thomas?"
Lavender swallows a mouthful of Cantonese noodles, trying to keep a smile from her face.
"I have to say, I get why Ginny picked him at school during my sixth year to try to make Harry jealous."
"Hmm, sounds like someone had a good time." Angelina bit into a wonton to hide her grin.
"I did," Lavender says, taking a small sip of her wine, "his soulmate is going to be one lucky girl."
"Oh, so he-"
"Yep, he found her about two years ago, but unfortunately, she's still a student at Hogwarts."
"Oooh," Angelina winces.
"Yeah. Dean says she doesn't know what he is to her, and that he's staying away until she leaves Hogwarts and has some adult experiences." The witch takes a forkful of noodles.
"Ohhh, that's so sweet of him."
Lavender nods.
"It is," she says, wiping her lips with a napkin, "which is why I dry-humped him into a screaming orgasm as a reward."
Angelina sputters, choking on her wine at the graphic visual, and almost falls off the stool howling with laughter.
"Bet you didn't know you could do that if your partner is mated to another." Lavender twirls some noodles onto her fork. "I think he cried a little too. Poor guy."
The witch looks down, grinning at Angelina on the floor who is holding her stomach and fighting to catch a breath.
"Are you gonna be okay?"
Angelina nods, wiping her eyes and still giggling as she slowly drags herself up from the floor.
"So, have you ever given Neville that special treatment?"
Lavender shakes her head furiously.
"No, of course not. I would never do that to Neville. He's my friend. Besides, that wizard deserves so much better than some witch dry-humping his dick for fun."
Taking a generous sip of her wine, Lavender doesn't see Angelina’s knowing look.