Chapter 10
It was weird, going back to classes at Hogwarts after being freshly mated. Draco felt the professor's lingering gaze when he approached them and he could hear the students whispering about him when he would walk past them. Professor Snape brewed him strengthening potions, claiming it was vital to consume after mating. It was even weirder to spend his time accompanied by Luna and Neville, who seemed to never leave him alone. They all sat together, alternating between the Slytherin and Gryffindor table, which wasn't unpleasant to say the least. They all knew about the plan, and Luna had given him vague hints about Ravenclaw's diadem, about him finding it where he would need it the most.
No one knew what she was saying.
Draco sighed, forcing himself to swallow another spoonful of eggs. The smell made his nauseous, and he barely kept it down.
Besides him, Pansy rolled her eyes. "You've really got to eat more," she chastised, filling his plate with potatoes and more eggs. Draco's stomach churned uncomfortably at the sight. "Running around and behaving like a Gryffindor makes you forget to care for yourself."
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The Great Hall had mostly emptied out, the long clatter of plates and chatter now replaced by the low murmur of lingering students. Draco stood near the door, arms crossed and clearly deep in thought, eyes flicking toward the Gryffindor exit. Most of the students left already, chattering about classes or assignments they had to tend to. He spotted Neville just as the other boy was slipping his Herbology textbook into his satchel, walking at a leisurely pace toward the doors.
Draco inhaled sharply, rolled his shoulders, and started walking. He caught up with Neville just as he stepped into the corridor.
“Longbottom!" Draco called, managing not to sound entirely like he was summoning a house-elf.
Neville turned, blinking, caught off guard. “Uh. Malfoy?”
Draco shifted awkwardly, hands clasped behind his back. “Do you—er—have a moment?”
Neville raised an eyebrow. “I guess?”
There was a long pause. Neville shuffled around nervously, watching Draco.
Draco glanced away, jaw tight. It was incredibly awkward--he was not used to holding himself accountable for his actions. “Right. Okay. I just wanted to say something. Before I change my mind.”
Neville looked faintly alarmed. “...Should I be worried?”
“No,” Draco muttered. Then, clearing his throat, “Not unless your definition of terrifying includes emotional maturity.”
That earned a confused snort from Neville, but he didn’t interrupt.
“I’ve said a lot of things over the years,” Draco said, voice carefully measured, “and most of them were... incredibly stupid. Some cruel. You didn’t deserve any of it.”
Neville blinked, unsure whether he’d just imagined that sentence. He didn't say anything.
“I know I wasn’t exactly subtle about thinking I was better than everyone,” Draco continued, still not looking directly at him. He felt as if there was a pit in his stomach that would worsen with each passing word. “Especially you. And I suppose I just—”
Another pause. He inhaled sharply.
“I’m sorry. I was an asshole.”
It was quick, clipped, like the words physically hurt to say.
Neville stared at him. “You’re... apologizing. To me.”
“Yes,” Draco snapped, ears pink. “You don't have to forgive me.”
Neville, for his part, just stared a second longer before chuckling softly. He shifted for a second, almost falling off balance and Draco immediately brought his hands outwards to support him.
"Don't faint."
“No fainting, promise. Just... surprised.”
Draco shifted on his feet, looking distinctly uncomfortable now that the initial apology was out. Still, he had to press on. It didn’t feel like enough, just saying sorry. Not after everything. Not after years.
“I used to hex you in the corridors for fun,” Draco muttered, voice lower now, almost ashamed. “The Leg-Locker jinx. Tripping jinxes.”
Neville blinked, stunned.
Draco rubbed the back of his neck. “I used to call you names. Insult your memory, your wandwork, said you didn’t belong here. I even made fun of your boggart…I insulted your parents. I remember that. Merlin, I remember it all.”
Neville’s eyebrows rose. “You… remember all that?”
Draco grimaced. “Of course I do. Doesn’t matter how much I tried to pretend I was above everyone—deep down I always knew I was just kicking at easy targets. You were kind. And I hated that. Hated how much you cared, how hard you tried, even when everything was stacked against you. It made me feel… small. You were--are better than me.”
Neville opened his mouth, but no sound came out at first.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” Draco said quickly, eyes flicking away again. “I just needed to say it. Properly.”
Neville was quiet for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, softly, he said, “I think you might be the only person who actually remembers what they did during those years. Everyone else either blames the war or says they were just kids. You’re the first to actually… own it.”
Draco blinked.
“I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt back then,” Neville continued, his voice calm but not without weight. “But I’ve grown. And you clearly have, too. So yeah—I forgive you.”
Draco nodded once, sharply, like if he let the moment stretch any longer it might undo him. He was shocked that Neville forgave him so easily. “Right. Good. That’s… good.”
Neville gave a small, lopsided smile. They stood in silence for a beat longer, the corridor dim and quiet around them. Then Neville, still a little awkward but sincere, added,
“But… maybe you could come by sometime. If you ever want to help with the Mandrakes.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “Are they less shrieky than they used to be?”
“No,” Neville said cheerfully. “But you seem like you could use a bit of screaming now and then.”
Draco gave a dry laugh, something tight in his chest loosening. “I'll come around.”
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