Chapter Text
Most of the students have already left for the village, but Harry didn’t bring his hoodie down with him during breakfast. He left his friends downstairs in the common room, jogging up towards the third year boys dormitory to retrieve it. But now he’s looking at his opened trunk in dismay.
How could he have forgotten?
It’s washing day. The house elves must have taken his clothes while he was eating. Usually, they’re fairly good about knowing what to take down and what not to, but Harry’s fairly sure he left his hoodie on the floor near his bed, intending to pick it up later.
He groans whilst shutting the lid, shoulders drooping down. What is he going to do now? Unlike other students, he doesn’t have an assortment of clothes at his disposal. He owns very little, actually, the Dursleys never bothered to purchase any more for him than they needed to.
If only the elves hadn’t taken his winter cloak too, he could have used it despite it not being that cold.
Harry runs a hand through his hair, it sticks up even more than usual as he contemplates his options. He’s not going to miss today, not after everything it took for Uncle Vernon to sign his permission slip. Maybe he can still go, he has other shirts he can use to layer up so he shouldn’t be too chilled. But, Harry takes a glance out the window and sees the leaves on the trees swaying. The wind’s picking up out there, it’ll nip at him right through the thin material of his clothes.
He sighs.
“Hey, Mate,” Ron’s in the doorway when Harry glances over his shoulder. “Are you coming? Hermione’s wanting to get this over with. She’s got an essay to finish, don’t see why she can’t just wait.”
Harry doesn’t miss the annoyance in Ron’s voice. Him and Hermione have been doing...better since their intense quarrels over Scabbers and Crookshanks. It’s still tense and awkward, though, filled with passive aggressive remarks that make Harry wish he were somewhere else.
“I’ll be right down,” he promises. “And Ron?” His best friend stops in his tracks just as he’s about to turn around. “Try not to cross her.”
Ron scowls. “She’s started it! She refuses to see that her cat is a bloody menace.”
And well, Harry can’t entirely disagree with that. It’s both of them, really, but Hermione has a very narrowed view sometimes which tends to cause her and Ron to clash.
“I know,” Harry says, and then adds to get things moving faster, “I’ll be down in a mo.”
Ron nods, then goes back down and Harry refocuses on the task at hand, finding that his situation hasn’t changed within the last five seconds.
In all likelihood, Ron probably has something extra in his trunk. Mrs. Weasley would never let him leave without ensuring he’s well packed. But Harry’s stomach squirms at the thought of asking. While he knows Ron will do it without hesitation, he’s also got barely anything of his own. He still wears the hand-me-downs from the others. It’s not fair, on top of all that, for Harry to ask to use anything too.
Great,” he grumbles. “Now what’ll I do?”
There’s footsteps that return. Harry assumes it has to be Ron again , Merlin, Hermione must be really impatient to get back to her homework, but it’s not Ron at all when he faces the door. It’s Neville who slips in, having forgotten something.
“Hi, Harry,” his dormmate greets, a shy smile on his lips.
Harry’s still feeling immensely frustrated, but he smiles anyway. It’s not on purpose, it just happens. Neville’s a calming presence in the dorm, but he’s that way with everyone. He even has an effect on Seamus, who is about as wild as Harry’s ever seen someone be.
“Hey, Nev,” he says.
“Are you going today?” Neville asks then elaborates. “To Hogsmeade?”
“I want to,” Harry says. “I just-” He gestures loosely with his hand. Neville looks curious. “I forgot today was wash day and the elves took my hoodie.”
“Don’t have a jumper or something?” Neville asks.
Harry shakes his head. “I’ll layer up, though. Would you mind telling Ron and Hermione I’ll be down in a second?”
“Or you could just use one of mine..?” It comes out as a question. Nevile chews his cheek.
“What?” Harry’s brain hasn’t quite caught up yet.
“You can use one of my jumpers,” Neville clarifies. “I don’t mind. Unless you don't want to, that’s fine, of course.”
“No,” Harry blurts out, then realises what he’s said, “No, I mean, yeah. I’ll use one. Thanks.”
Neville’s lips twitch like he’s trying to suppress a grin. Harry’s never paid much attention to another bloke’s smile before, but it’s not bad, he supposes. Something swoopes in his stomach that makes him pause for a moment, but attributes it to the breakfast he's just eaten. He might have had a touch too much eggs.
“Okay. Do you care what colour it is?” He asks while opening up his own trunk and fetching one. He has quite a few, Harry soon learns, as the other boy brings out jumpers of green, blue, grey and so on.
“Err, Nev? Why do you have so many?”
“Gran worries I won’t have enough,” Neville replies with a shrug.
“Oh,” Harry says, then remembers he’s supposed to choose one. “Err, I’ll take the green one, I suppose.”
Neville tosses it over to him and he catches it easily.
“Thanks.”
“No problem,” Neville says kindly. “You can just put it on my trunk when you’re done.” He turns to leave, but Harry calls out to him.
“Wait.”
“Yeah?” Neville says.
“Err-” It doesn’t seem right to let Neville go along on his own after he’s just done this for Harry. But it’s also not out of some sense of obligation. Since this term started, they’ve been talking more than the past two years. Are they friends? He wonders, but thinks of shared meals between the four of them - because Harry remembers quite well what it’s like to sit alone in primary school - of the unexpected sense of humor he’s found out Neville possesses; of how well they seem to mesh together, of how it’s really nice to have another friend at Hogwarts. Yes , he thinks. He thinks they are friends. “You’re not going alone, are you?”
Neville blinks, surprised. “To Hogsmeade?” Harry nods. “Oh, no. I’m meeting up with some friends of mine. They’re in Hufflepuff.”
It’s probably rude on some level that Harry’s surprised himself that Neville has people he goes to, but he's also never paid much attention to the other boy until recently. “Alright,” Harry says. “I was going to invite you to come along with me, Ron and Hermione if you wanted.”
Neville flicks his gaze towards Harry, another smile peeking out. “You were?”
“Yeah. Thought you might be interested.”
“I would have if I knew,” Neville says wistfully. It occurs to Harry that he obviously didn’t know, despite the fact that they’re together more often now.
“I thought you knew already.”
Neville shakes his head.
“But...” Harry starts, then changes his mind. “Why not?”
“I didn’t want to assume,” Neville says quietly.
It’s Harry’s turn to shake his head. “You can come with us,” he says, “whenever you’d like.”
“They won’t mind?” It takes Harry a second to realise he’s talking about Ron and Hermione.
“They won’t care,” he assures Neville, who relaxes. “They’re too busy arguing they probably wouldn’t even notice if I wasn’t there.”
It dissipates any awkward tension immediately. Another grin blooms across Neville’s face. “They’ve been really going at it lately.”
Harry groans. “They really have. I don’t think I can take much more of it.”
At this, Neville breaks into soft laughter that sends Harry’s stomach plunging into the floor. He’s starting to wonder if he’s experiencing food poisoning. Perhaps the eggs were past their time.
“I hope they’re not too bad today.”
“You heard them at breakfast.”
“Better you than me,” Neville teases.
“Thanks,” Harry says blandly while Neville shuts his trunk.
“Well, I ought to go. Ernie’s probably getting impatient.”
Harry can’t say he’s ever spoken more than a few words to Ernie MacMillan. He’d felt a little sour over the Chamber of Secrets ordeal. “Just you and Ernie today?”
“Not just us,” Neville says. “Justin, Hannah and Susan are coming too.”
“Oh,” Harry says. He doesn’t have much of an opinion on them either, but they’re among the ones that believed he was the Heir of Slytherin so what little view he has of them isn’t exactly fond. “Well, alright. See you later, then.”
“See you,” Neville says as he departs, leaving Harry up there alone.
It’s then that he remembers he’s still got the jumper in his hands. It’s soft and dark green and a little larger compared to what he usually wears now, but not near as big as when he wore Dudley’s old clothes. Without wasting any more time, Harry pulls it over his head, bringing it down all the way. His senses are instantly overwhelmed with the smell of Neville , and it’s strange, his insides do that ripple effect again.
Maybe he should ask Hermione and Ron if they’re feeling similarly.
*
“What’ve got on you, Harry?” Ron asks as they’re walking through the village. Hermione looks critically at him as well.
“That jumper looks familiar, but I haven't seen you wear it before.”
“It’s not mine,” Harry says. “It’s Neville’s.”
“Neville’s?” Ron echoes. “What’re you wearing his jumper for?”
“My hoodie’s being washed. My cloak too.”
“You could’ve asked me,” Ron insists as they walk into Honeydukes. It’s not too crowded in there, surprisingly. “I would’ve lent you mine!”
“I know, Ron,” Harry says placatingly while browsing the available sweets.
“Honestly, Ron,” Hermione rolls her eyes. “Does it matter?” Ron’s face starts to redden, which Harry recognises as a danger sign that his temper might elevate. It's been relatively calm so far, he wants to keep it that way.
“They've got a deal going on with chocolate frogs,” Harry redirects Ron’s attention. It works- the redhead immediately turns that way, his eyes lighting up.
“We should buy a box,” Ron says enthusiastically. “We'll have double.”
“Sure,” Harry agrees. They might even get some new cards that weren't Dumbledore or Merlin. “Maybe I'll get Neville some sweets too. As a thank you for the jumper.”
“That's a great idea,” Hermione says. “It's nice to see that one of you has manners.”
Harry sighs while the two of them fall back into bickering, albeit quietly so they're not kicked out of the shop. The last thing he wants to do is stand there and listen anymore than he already has been, so he expels a breath and abandons them to browse for anything that Neville might like.
Admittedly, he's never paid much attention to that particular detail, never having a reason to. He's not discouraged, though. It's Honeydukes , so there has to be something in here that Neville will like.
He spots Seamus and Dean in the far corner, considering their options, and goes over there. “Hi,” he says, and they glance at him. “I need your help.”
“What do you need?” Dean asks, while Seamus squints.
“Is that-”
“Neville’s,” Harry interrupts, “yes. He let me borrow it.”
He’s confused, to say the least, when sly grins appear on their faces.
“ Did he?” Seamus says, only to be elbowed harshly by Dean, who's got a smile of his own that he's trying to tamp down on.
“Yes...?” Harry furrows his brows. “Anyway, I wanted to bring him back some sweets as a thank you but I don't know what he likes. I was hoping you could help me out.”
“I know a better way -” Whatever Seamus was going to say, it gets cut off by Dean.
“Ignore him,” Dean says to a baffled Harry. “The sweets are a good idea.”
“Err...okay,” Harry decides to let it go. He probably doesn't want to know what all this is about anyway. “But what should I get him, you think?”
“I dunno, mate,” Dean says apologetically. Harry deflates in disappointment. “You could try getting him a bit of everything. There’s got to be something he’d like.”
It doesn’t sound like a bad idea, Harry thinks. “Thanks,” he says. “I’ll do that.”
“So, Harry,” Seamus says, and there’s something distinctly different to his voice. A lilt he can’t properly identify. “You and Nev have been getting closer, ay?”
“What?” Harry stares at Seamus’ wiggling eyebrows. “I suppose so, yeah.”
“Leave it alone,” Dean mutters under his breath at Seamus. But as usual, Seamus runs on his own accord and ignores any opposition.
“Lucky for Nev,” Seamus nods. It wipes away any slight smile Harry has on his face.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t get me wrong, Harry,” Seamus shrugs. “Nev’s a good bloke, but he can be a bit-” he gestures loosely, searching for the right word.
Harry stiffens. He tries not to take it personally. Seamus doesn’t usually think before he speaks. He probably doesn’t mean any offense. But still .
“Shay,” Dean scolds.
“What? Harry knows I don’t mean anything by it. Right, Harry?”
“Right,” Harry doesn’t mean for his voice to come out tersely but it does. A little bit.
Seamus doesn’t hear this, though. Just continues to smile and nod in a pointed manner to Dean. See?
Dean rolls his eyes.
“Well,” Harry says, not trying too hard to sound pleasant, “I better get back before they wonder where I’ve gone.”
“Bye, Harry,” Seamus says, turning back to what he was looking before. If Harry paid attention, he would hear the two of them whispering conspiratorially to each other.
“Really, Shay? Was that necessary?”
“ Someone’s got to do something. It’s obvious to everyone but them!”
When he makes his way back over near the entrance, Harry finds Hermione standing there waiting while Ron picks up a box of chocolate frogs. “Ready?” She asks.
“Not yet,” Harry says.
“You haven’t found anything yet?”
“No, but I think I’m going to get a little of everything.”
By the time he reaches the front counter, Harry’s got an armful of sweets that makes Ron raise his eyebrows. “Blimey,” he says while the whole lot gets rung up. “Wish you took my jumper.”
Hermione rolls her eyes and scoffs.
After it’s paid for, the three of them wander some more. Harry looks around to see if he can spot Neville or any of the Hufflepuffs he mentioned but doesn’t. The village is busy today, busting with energetic students, laughter and conversations flowing.
“Where do you want to go now?” Hermione asks. The wind is blowing her busy hair around every which way, even flying in her face so she pulls it tight and ties it with a hair bobble.
“We could try Zonkos?” Rom suggests. “Fred and George rave about that place.”
It’s clear to the both of them that Hernione doesn’t exactly find that an enjoyable idea.
In order to avoid more conflict, Harry says, “What about the Three Broomsticks? We could get a Butterber.”
It settles the brewing argument before it really starts. There, they find a table in the back to sit at, out of the blistering wind and cold. Much of the place is packed, which means it’s far better to talk in here without anyone overhearing.
Their orders are placed, and they sit down and relax. Harry’s on one side of the booth with Ron and Hermione across from them.
“Have either of you finished Professor Lupin’s essay yet?”
“No,” Ron says, bored.
“Err, not yet,” Harry answers.
“It’s due in a week,” Hermione says, scandalised.
“So?” Ron shrugs, unbothered. “We’ve got loads of time.”
“It’s hardly loads of time-”
Harry tunes them out, flickering his gaze around the establishment. On the other side of the room is Neville. He’s sitting at a table with the Hufflepuffs, red cheeked and smiling. He’s not saying right now, listening to whatever is being prattled about over there, and doesn’t seem to notice that he’s being watched.
He seems comfortable, relaxed. Not like when he’s all alone or in the presence of Dean and Seamus who formed their own group. Harry’s aware that he’s staring and should have stopped by now before he gets caught, but he can’t help himself. It’s different to see Neville like this.
“What’re you looking at?” Ron’s voice shatters his thoughts. Harry pulls himself back into the moment.
“Oh, I just saw Neville over there.”
He turns back in time to see Ron and Hermione exchanging a look. “What?”
“Nothing,” Ron says too quickly for that to be true.
Hermione thins her lips, thinking of how to word this. Or maybe it’s because of Ron’s lack of convincing response. “Harry, don’t take this the wrong way, but we’ve noticed how close you’ve gotten to Neville this year.”
She appears uncertain, like she doesn’t know if she should be talking about this or not.
As for Harry, he stared at her in confusion. “What?” It’s not secret that they have , but the way Hermione says it, the slight hesitancy that’s there, it makes him think there’s something more that neither of them want to come out and say.
“It’s true, Mate.” Even though it pains him to agree with her, Ron does. “Think everyone’s noticed.”
“So what if they have?” Slight agitation creeps up. Harry feels like he’s on the outside of things because he just doesn’t get what they’re hinting at. “What’s the matter with you two? I thought you didn’t mind Neville?”
“We don’t ,” Hermione assures him. “It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?” Harry says, frustrated.
She purses her lips, eyes flicking over to Ron, who rubs the back of his neck.
“Look,” Ron clearly doesn’t know where he’s going with this but he’s going to try anyway, “haven’t you noticed that you’re always talking to him?”
“What?” Harry repeats for the umpteenth time. “What are you talking about?”
“You know,” Ron says and no, Harry doesn’t, “in classes, the corridor, at meals-”
What is he going on about? There’s nothing wrong with that as far as Harry’s concerned.
“You two are there too,” Harry feels distinctly uncomfortable all of a sudden. They’re talking like he’s just abandoned them in favor of Neville and that’s not what’s been happening at all .
Ron snorts.
“ What? ” Harry says, his nerves on edge.
“What Ron means is,” Hermione takes over, “you and Neville are in your own little world sometimes.” Harry frowns, saying nothing. “It’s not all the time but it happens.”
He’s kind of blown away, he knows they’ve been talking and yeah, it’s true that he seeks out Neville sometimes now that he thinks about it but he doesn’t think he does it so much that he’s ignoring his best friends.
As if she knows what he’s thinking, and it’s Hermione so that’s not far fetched, she says, “It’s alright, Harry, we don’t mind.”
“Yeah,” Ron says, casual and with no hint of hurt or anything to indicate that he was upset. “We kind of suspected it anyway.”
Harry furrows his brow. Suspected what?
Then, with just two fingertips, Ron holds up a piece of the jumper’s sleeve which only perplexes Harry even more. “This has to mean something, right?” He asks Hermione.
Harry opens his mouth, but their butterbers come, and after a murmur of thanks, it’s just them again. While his friends take a drink, he sits there with a crease in his forehead. “What do you mean?” He looks at their faces. “What do you mean you suspected? And what do you mean it’s got to mean something? Mean what ?”
For once that day, instead of fighting, Hermione and Ron seem to be in a truce of some sorts. They’re communicating silently, going straight over Harry’s head, whilst he waits and waits for an answer.
“Harry,” Hermione finally addresses him, her tone cautious, “is it possible, you think, that you’ve come to fancy Neville?”
He’s completely blown away. “What?” He barely keeps his voice from raising until it reaches levels that are frowned upon indoors. It alarms him, shocks him. “I’m not- I don’t -”
“We don’t care if you do,” Ron shrugs, which is nice and he appreciates it, but it doesn’t do much to stop Harry’s mind from racing uncontrollably.
“I don’t like-” His eyes dart over to where Neville is, none the wiser to this discussion, his voice dropping down to a whisper, “Neville.”
“I think you do,” Hermione tells him. “I’ve happen to notice you smile more when he’s around.”
“You look like Mum when she was all googly eyed over Lockhart,” Ron adds.
“Really, Ron?” Hermione gives him a look.
“It’s true,” he says defensively.
“I can’t fancy Neville,” Harry’s having difficulty processing this. He’s never fancied a bloke before in his life, let alone one that’s supposed to be his friend.
“Think you already do,” Ron grins.
“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Hermione tells him, firmly and softly all at once.
Even so, Harry leans back, unable to stop himself from revisiting every interaction with Neville that he can remember. His first instinct is to deny it, deny it because they have to be wrong, because it can’t possibly be true. But then he thinks deeper, thinks of the swooping in his stomach that happens frequently now that he looks back and not likely caused from poorly made eggs, thinks of how Neville’s presence calms him; thinks of shy grins and nice sounding laughter, thinks of putting on the jumper and how just the smell is enough to make him feel warm all over and-
He sits up straighter.
“You and Nev have been getting closer, ay?”
“Bugger.”
“I think he’s realised it,” Ron says to Hermione, drinking some more butterbeer.
“I fancy Neville,” he mutters to himself, wide eyed.
Silence falls over the table as the revelation sinks in.
“That’s not a bad thing, is it?” Hermione clarifies.
“I dunno...” Harry blinks a couple of times. “I dunno. I mean, I can’t tell him.”
“Why not?” Ron says through a mouthful of his drink.
“He’s not going to, err, feel the same way,” Harry can feel his cheeks warming while his friends exchange another look, this time of annoyance.
“Harry,” Hermione says with the patience one might have with a child, “it’s fairly obvious that Neville feels the same way.”
“What? Really?”
“You can’t say I’m oblivious ever again,” Ron says smugly. Hermione rolls her eyes, refocusing on Harry.
“Yes. Why do you think he lent you his jumper?”
“Err, because that’s what friends do?”
“Merlin,” Ron sighs.
“Yes, but in this case, no,” Hermione shakes her head. “He clearly fancies you and you’d know it if you paid attention.”
“Yeah,” Ron shifts in the booth to get himself comfortable again. “He’s got this dopey look to him when you two are talking.”
“Ron -”
“He even looks at you when you aren’t looking,” Ron says, his nose wrinkling a little. “Bit weird, really.”
“It’s not weird , Ron-”
The butterbeer is suddenly less appetizing.
*
“I need to talk to you,” is the first thing Harry blurts out when he sees Neville in the Common Room. Neville blinks, startled.
“Err, okay.”
“Let's go upstairs,” Harry is feeling jittery and flighty as his loose limbs climb the stairs. Neville follows from behind, unaware that Harry is doing his best just to breathe .
Up there, he asks Neville to close the door, which he does.
“Harry, is everything alright?” Neville looks concerned. “Did something happen?”
“Not exactly,” Harry wishes he could have drank all his butterbeer so his mouth wouldn’t be so dry.
“I don’t understand,” Neville says slowly.
Harry runs a hand through his hair, wondering how he can face Voldemort and his human form, Tom Riddle, head on but he standing here in front of Neville is making him exceptionally queasy. “Well, I’bve got something I have to tell you.”
“Okay,” Neville nods encouragingly. “Go on.”
“Right,” Harry’s heart is thrumming against his ribcage. “You see, I’ve just sort of realised something.”
Neville frowns, his eyes glittering with worry. “Harry,” he says, serious, “whatever you’ve got to tell me, you can. I won’t laugh at you, I promise.”
He knows that. Of course he does. Neville knows more than anyone what it’s like to be laughed at.
But even if he doesn’t laugh, there’s no guarantee that everything won’t change. It’s nice to have Neville as a friend, he might not want to be around Harry when he finds out.
“I just need to find out if something is true,” Harry mutters. “Ron and Hermione - they think you fancy me.”
He expects Neville to deny it, to be bewildered and want to get away as soon as possible. So Harry’s taken aback for the second time that day when Neville’s face flushes, and he stammers and rambles out of sheer nervousness.
“Oh, Merlin. I-I didn’t know it was that obvious. I’m so sorry, Harry. I can...I won’t sit with you anymore if that’s what you want-”
“ No !”
It comes out as a shout. Unintentionally. Harry feels his face redden when Neville abruptly stops talking and stares.
“No,” he says, calmer and quieter, “it’s alright. You don’t have to do that.”
Neville swallows thickly. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, angst.
“You don’t have to be,” Harry says. He’s not good at this, at comforting people. Neville looks absolutely miserable, and it stirs up something in Harry’s chest. “It’s fine, really it is.”
“I just don’t want you to think...” Neville takes a deep breath, his eyes firmly on his shoes, “that I’ve talked to you because of that.”
“I don’t,” Harry says automatically. Neville finally looks up and gives off the impression he wants to protest this. “Honest.”
“Are you sure?” Neville’s voice is barely above a whisper. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”
“No,” Harry licks his lips and takes a deep breath of his own, “I, err, I think I fancy you as well.”
Neville’s eyes go wide and he’s silent, yet gobsmacked. “You-you do?”
Harry shifts. This isn’t what he anticipated happening today. “Err, yeah. Ron and Hermione made me realise it.”
“ O-oh ,” Neville’s voice goes up an octave. There’s a smile emerging, too. “I didn’t think you’d-”
Harry averts his eyes. “Right...” He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do now. Now that it’s out in the open and can’t be taken back or forgotten.
“But why ?” Neville asks, as if he’s truly lost.
“Why what?”
“Why would you fancy me? I’m just...” Neville trails off and shrugs, kicking a nonexistent pebble.
“That’s not true,” Harry tells him. “You’re great, Neville. And if other people can't see that, they’re ridiculous.”
The other boy flushes once again at the praise.
“Say, Neville?”
The other boy snaps his head up.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” Neville says immediately.
“Did you lend me your jumper because you...” He can’t even finish it. Embarrassment is creeping up and his face is warming. “Because you fancy me?”
“No,” Neville shakes his head. I mean, I-I do fancy you but I didn’t want you to be cold either.”
It’s easily one of the nicest things Harry’s ever been told. “Thanks,” he says quietly. He fiddles with the sleeves that are so long they cover his hands. “It’s nice, the jumper. Really warm.”
“I-I wouldn’t mind if you did it again,” Nevile says, a bit too loudly at first, which makes him duck his head. “Take a jumper if you need it.”
“Oh,” Harry isn’t sure what to say. “You mean that?”
Neville nods faster than anyone’s seen in his life. “It’s probably weird,” he toys with a loose string on his own jumper, “but I...I like seeing you wear it.”
His voice gets quieter and quieter towards the end, but Harry hears him loud and clear.
It is weird , he wants to agree, but at the same time, it’s...strangely flattering?
“It’s comfortable,” Harry says when he remembers that it’s been a minute too long since he last spoke. “I can leave it on a bit longer.” He’s not just saying it to make Neville happy, he means it. It’s loads better than the kind of jumper Aunt Petunia would reluctantly buy for him- if she ever had to.
“Okay,” Neville sounds happy and breathless and before Harry knows it, he’s starting to smile. “Err, Harry? Would you-would you want to-”
He’s stumbling over his words. Fidgeting too. Harry waits, has an inkling that he knows what Neville is going to say.
“Would you go to Hogsmeade next weekend with me?” Neville rushes out. “Just the two of us?”
“Just the two of us?” Harry’s heart actually flutters. He’s not sure what to think of that.
“If you want,” Neville’s teeth sink into his lip.
“Yeah,” Harry says. Walking around the village with Neville at his side doesn’t sound so bad. Going to Honeydukes, stopping by the Three Broomsticks and having a butterbeer together. “Yeah, that sounds great.”
Neville’s face lights up, but he tries to tamp down on it so he doesn’t look too eager, Harry supposes. “Brilliant!”
Harry never believed he would be so grateful for washing day to come but he is now.