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Harry winced and flexed his fingers. Hermione had given him Murtlap essence—whatever that was—to help, but he couldn’t see it doing much good. Not when Umbridge had him in her office nearly every night writing “I must not tell lies” with that bloody Merlin-forsaken quill of hers. He knew his friend had good intentions, but every time he put more on it just stung and almost made the pain worse.
“Hi, Harry.”
He turned at the sound of the voice. “Neville.” Harry moved his hand under the book on his lap. “What are you doing up this late?”
“Forgot how late it was at the library.” He shifted his weight and gave Harry a lopsided goofy grin. “I got into this one really cool book about Herbology. Did you know there are actual schools in parts of Asia that are devoted to the study of Herbology and growing plants in the most optimal conditions? They’ve even worked with some muggle healers if you can believe that!”
“Sounds brilliant. Really. Should tell Professor Sprout all about that.”
“She’s the one who recommended it to me, actually. It’s a fantastic read—if you’re into plants, that is. Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your studying. Anything I can help with?”
“Doubt it,” Harry muttered. He hissed when his hand brushed against the book by mistake.
“Are you okay?”
“Fine. I’m fine, Neville. Just need to study. That’s all.”
“Okay. I’ll see you up there.” He hesitated before he turned to leave.
XXXXX
“Is it any better?” Hermione wondered as they walked toward Herbology.
“No. And whatever you gave me isn’t helping.”
“Did you put it on like I instructed?”
“Yes, ‘Mione. I soaked it in the mixture for an hour, patted it dry, and then added on three drops from the vial. Same bloody thing I’ve been doing for the past week.”
“It probably doesn’t help that Harry’s also stuck in detention with the toad,” Ron added as he finished up the last of his scone. Sprout was one of the few professors who allowed food in her classroom since it was right after breakfast, but a few of the plants also loved to steal snacks right out of the hands of unsuspecting students. “You put Murtlap essence on that, cut it open again, and you’re right back to where you started.”
“Since when did you become a healer, Ronald?”
“Mum always had to fix Fred and George up after their pranks. She always complained about never having enough of this or that thing.”
“Well you should at least bandage it, Harry. Especially when we’re about to work with dangerous plants.”
“If I could, I would, but right now even the air makes it hurt. I doubt bandages would do much good.”
To Harry’s disappointment, they had to wear gloves for the lesson that day. He tried not to curse when he pulled the fabric over his hand or whenever something just happened to brush over the glove as he worked. He gritted his teeth and mentally cursed when the time came to remove the glove itself. Tears pricked his eyes as it felt like the fabric tried to pull off the newly healed skin. Harry darted out of the greenhouse before anyone could see or worry about him.
XXXXX
Neville walked through the dark corridors, book tucked under one arm. His extra Herbology lesson with Sprout had taken longer than usual, but it had been worth it. He already had so many ideas to try out; not to mention the herbs she had let him borrow to work with. Sprout even took the time to compliment him on his progress with his Mimbulus mimbletonia.
He stopped when he saw Harry. The Gryffindor sat alone on a bench. Then he heard it. A sniffle.
“Harry?”
He looked up and rubbed at his nose. “Neville. What’re you doing wandering around?”
“Extra Herbology lesson with Professor Sprout. You?”
“Detention with Umbridge.”
“Oh.”
“What is this?” Filch rounded the corner. “Students out of bed?”
Neville dropped his bag. He shoved the plant into Harry’s hands while he knelt to pick up the jars.
“Thanks, Harry.” He scooped them into his bag. “Sorry about that. Should try to be more careful, huh?” He got to his feet. “I think I got everything.”
“What are you—?”
He dragged Harry by the arm behind him. “Come on. I know you had a ton of questions for Sprout, but we’ll get in trouble if we’re still out of our dorm any longer than we have to be.”
He slowed down once he was sure they were out of Filch’s view. Neville held his hands out and Harry gave him the plant back.
Neville tilted his head when Harry cursed under his breath and cradled his hand against his chest.
That’s when he saw it. The angry red skin on the back of his hand. The deep cuts with dried blood around the edges. If he squinted, he could’ve sworn they were shaped like words.
“I-it’s nothing,” Harry muttered. “Let’s just get back to the common room.”
He nodded and silently followed him back. They got to the tower and went up to the dormitory. Neville sat his things down on his bed. He glanced over at Harry. Neville dug around in his bag until he found it. A mixture of Valerian root, Karvey, and Bay Laurel. He waited until Harry went into the loo before he sat the jar on his nightstand.
XXXXX
“Neville. Catch.”
He quickly reached for the jar Harry had tossed him. “You didn’t have to—”
“I know you’re the one who left that on my nightstand last night.” Harry crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “I’m fine. I don’t need you to worry about me. Ron and Hermione are bad enough.”
Neville couldn’t help but glance at Harry’s hand. He had it bandaged tonight.
“If it helps, I don’t mind sharing. I always have to get some from Sprout after our extra lessons because I keep getting myself nicked by the plants in the greenhouses. The nice part about it is that it doesn’t sting like Murtlap essence will—that is if that’s what you were using, I mean. I’m just guessing since it’s pretty much what everyone uses.”
“You know you do a thing where you start talking whenever you’re nervous, right?”
“Do I?” He cleared his throat. “Never noticed.”
“You take extra Herbology lessons?”
“Yeah. Professor Sprout offered them this year after I told her about my Mimbulus Mimbletonia. A few others from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff show up, but I’m the only one who goes just about every night.” He shrugged. “I don’t have a lot of friends and I’m not busy with Quidditch practice or anything like that.”
“Sounds lonely.”
“I manage alright. You should probably keep using this.” He handed the jar back to Harry. “I can always make myself more. The recipe is pretty simple and Sprout always has a ton of ingredients for it since Snape always needs some for his classes.”
“Thanks.” Harry took the jar from him. “Really. If there’s anything I can do—”
“How about a butterbeer?” he suggested. “Next Hogsmeade trip?”
“Butterbeer. Yeah. Sure thing.”
XXXXX
Harry sat down across from him and slid the drink over.
“Ron and Hermione not here?”
“Ron’s over at Zonko’s and ‘Mione is at the bookshop.” Harry shrugged. “Just you and me, I guess. I mean, if that’s alright with you. I don’t want to make it feel weird or anything.”
“It’s not weird.” Neville took a drink. “Really. How’s your hand?”
“Better actually. I mean it still hurts, but it’s not as bad as it was before. Didn’t know that Sprout would know that much about healing.”
“Well Herbologists always have to work with Healers and Potion Masters. Their fields sort of intersect with one another. That’s why I’m better at the actual Potions exams than making the potions themselves.”
“Which is the part Snape likes more than anything.”
“Yeah.” Neville sighed.
“I’m sorry he makes you so afraid of him.”
“Thanks. He’s mellowed out a bit more, but he’s still terrifying. At least the recipes he puts on the board are better than the ones in the books. The ingredients balance themselves out better that way, and I have a decent chance of getting the potion right.”
“Hang on. He puts the recipes up on the board differently than how they are in the book?”
“Yeah. You’ve never noticed?”
“Not really. No. I’m surprised you have.”
“I was curious after Sprout talked about how different ingredients have different effects on each other.” He shrugged. “Thought it could help with Potions.”
“That’s kind of brilliant though. I’m surprised I never noticed. Like last year with the Gillyweed you got me for the tournament.”
“Oh. That. I’m surprised you remember. I mean, last year was pretty mental with the whole thing with the tournament. You okay with what happened? I mean, you were there when Diggory—when he—”
“I’m fine, Neville.”
“I’m just saying that it’s okay if you’re not.”
“Thanks. You’d be the first. But I’m not really in the mood for chatting about that.”
“Of course. If you want, we can stop by Honeydukes? I hear there are always new flavors to try.”
“Yeah. Sounds fun.”
XXXXX
Neville licked the lolly he had gotten as he and Harry made their way back to Hogwarts.
“That was fun,” Harry muttered. “Really.”
“Glad to hear. You looked like you could use a fun day out.” He shrugged. “Or at least as much fun as you can get at Hogsmeade.”
“Thanks. How is it that you’re the only one who notices those sorts of things? Like just now, and with my hand the other night? And what about what you did when Filch almost caught us?”
“No idea. I guess it just sort of happens. Kind of like with my plants. You have to notice all the little things about them to figure out what they need to help them grow. Not that you’re anything like a plant! For one thing, it’s easier to talk with you than it is with a plant—and not just because you can talk back to me.”
“You’re doing it again.”
“Oh. Sorry. Guess it’s just me. I don’t have a lot of people to chat with, so all of my conversations end up being one-sided.”
“Why do you like them so much? Your plants?”
“They’re interesting. They have all sorts of magical properties.” He shrugged. “I guess part of it too is that I spent so much time at St. Mungo’s when I was growing up because of my parents. I used to ask them all about what treatments they were using. Gran bought me a book on the potions they used one time, and then there was a chapter that talked all about the plants they used. Next thing I knew I kept begging Gran to get me this book or that book.”
“That’s sweet.”
“You’d be the first to think so. You’re also the first person I’ve told about it.”
They came to a stop.
“You’re really brave, Harry. To go to Umbridge’s detentions every time knowing that your hand is going to be like that at the end.”
“What makes you say that?”
Neville shrugged. “Guess I’m always just wondering why I was put in Gryffindor in the first place. But then I remember what Dumbledore said at the end of our first year; about how you can be bravest when you stand up to friends. Makes me think about how there are all sorts of different ways to be brave. You don’t have to be a hero to be brave, you know?”
“But you are brave, Neville. You have to be in order to work with those plants in the greenhouse. And to go to Potions every time even if you’re terrified of Snape. You’re braver than you think.”
“Thanks, Harry.” He smiled. “That means a lot coming from you. You’re probably one of the bravest people I know.”
“R-really?” Harry ran his fingers through his hair the way he did whenever he was embarrassed about something.
“Yeah. Even now you’re still going to Umbridge’s detentions even when she’s going to do that—however that happens—to your hand every time.”
“Well, whatever you gave me really helped.” He flexed his fingers. “Numbed the pain and everything too.”
“Happy to help. Thanks for coming with me to Hogsmeade, by the way. It was nice.”
“Of course. Should do it again sometime.”
Neville smiled. “I should probably get over to the greenhouses. I promised Professor Sprout I’d help her with the plants when I got back from Hogsmeade. I’ll see you around, Harry.”
“Yeah. See you around, Neville.”
XXXXX
Harry watched as Neville left. For some reason, the quiet Gryffindor was more interesting than he had ever realized before. There were layers to him Harry hadn’t quite thought of until now.
Neville stopped, turned, and held his hand up in a wave. Harry waved back.
In the process, he caught sight ofb the marks on the back of his hand. I must not tell lies.
Neville Longbottom. Probably one of the bravest Gryffindors in our year though no one’ll ever really notice it. Somehow always has a bright idea in his head though not exactly the same way Hermione has a bright idea; his are more practical than academic.
A good friend. A really good, brilliant, friend.
Harry shoved his hands into his pockets. He walked back toward Hogsmeade so he could meet up with Ron and Hermione.
And for once in a good long while, his hand didn’t hurt. He barely noticed it as the fabric rubbed against the scars. After Umbridge’s detention that night, Harry didn’t think the quill had cut him that deeply. It stung on the way back to the dormitory, but a bit of Neville’s salve took the pain away almost instantly. In the moonlight, Harry could’ve sworn they looked a little thinner too.
Thanks, Neville, Harry thought to the sleeping Gryffindor. For everything. Really.