Chapter 5
2003 - Neville
The morning that Harry’s flowers were supposed to arrive, Neville woke up to a pounding headache. In retrospect, he probably should have known that something was wrong when the fatigue had caught up with him the night before, a relentless heaviness seeping through his bones, ensnaring his muscles. But, displaying his characteristic stubbornness, Neville had paid the feeling no heed and instead kept typing away at the online orders for the half dozen weddings that were apparently happening in the next month. He would never stop being in awe of how many muggles lived in London. His awe battled with his frustration, however, when they all wanted flowers at the same bloody time.
He had only ended up going to bed when his eyes started drooping and he had resorted to propping up his head with his hand in order to attempt to lessen the pounding behind his eyes that had started some hours before. So, when the cheery sunlight pierced his eyes the next morning, Neville really shouldn’t have been surprised when the bothersome headache made its reappearance. It was a throbbing behind his eyebrows, a heaviness settling deep into his bones. He lay in bed a few minutes extra, debating if he could take a day off. But he had work to do. He always had work to do. Flowers waited for no man. So, wincing, he rolled over to squint at the time before sighing and throwing off the covers. Time to start another day.
The walk to the shop, which normally brought him so much joy, took effort he didn’t have today. It was times like this that Neville wished he could apparate. But it had been so long since he had last attempted it that Nevile wasn’t sure he would even manage to land in the shop, even if he managed to not splinch himself. So he trudged, step by step, towards his destination. He kept his eyes down, watching the concrete footpath go past. One step. Two steps. Nearly there.
Unlocking the shop door was a relief. The lightless room was even more of a relief. He could finally sit down. There was still work to do though. There was always work to do, things piling up on his to do list, points being added faster than Neville could tick them off. He closed his eyes, sinking into the desk chair. Five things. If he could just manage to get five things done, then he could call it a day. Five things. He could do it.
He powered on the computer, looked at the to-do list. Harry’s order was supposed to arrive today. Neville’s hand ached as he made a note to call Harry when they came. One thing done. Onto the next thing. The spreadsheet that he used to keep track of all his orders unfurled on the computer, the bright white almost blinding. He stared at it. It didn’t seem to matter how long he looked, forcing himself to stare at the screen, to take in some information, it didn’t seem to make a difference. Neville couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do anything. But he had to do it.
Ten more minutes passed. Nothing. He had done nothing so far today. It was a waste, an utter waste of a day. Neville could almost see the money seeping out of the shop, money from the electricity, money from the rent, money that he wasn’t getting back because he just couldn’t work .
He stood up. Shook his head. His chair with its comfortably cushioned bottom lingered invitingly at the edge of his vision and Neville closed his eyes briefly. He wasn’t lazy. He had work to do and by Merlin he would do it.
—
A couple hours later, Neville had struggled through what probably would have taken him an hour any other day. He was in the middle of repotting a gladiolus that wanted a little more sun than what it had been getting when the bell rang at the front of the shop. Neville turned around, a confused furrow in his brow. Most of his regulars knew to just walk in and it wasn’t like he got many new customers.
A women in a fluorescent vest waved at him from the sidewalk and Neville’s forehead relaxed. He had almost forgotten about the delivery. Waving his soil-encrusted hands in the lady’s direction, Neville waited for a confirming nod before hurrying to the sink, fighting off a wave of dizziness as he quickly rinsed his hands. He gave her a strained grin as he pulled open the door.
“Sorry about the wait, I’d nearly forgotten you were coming.”
She smiled. “It’s all good. You’re the owner?”
Neville nodded.
“Could I just confirm your name and phone number?”
He obliged, reciting his name and a string of digits that had taken him hours to memorise once he had realised how important they were in the muggle world.
The delivery woman nodded, glancing down at a piece of paper. “That should all be in order. Here’s your delivery. Have a lovely rest of your day.”
“Thank you, you too.” The response was automatic off his tongue as he reached to grab the delicately wrapped bunch of flowers, grip carefully loose.
Carrying them to his desk, he lay them down, reaching over to pick up the phone. Neville moved his eyes to the sticky note, squinting to read the small numbers. He sat down, letting out a small sigh as he leaned his head into one hand.
“Harry?” He asked when someone picked up.
“Neville? Is that you?”
“Yeah. I just wanted to let you know that your lilacs just arrived.”
“Oh, cool. Is it alright if I come around in like half an hour?”
Neville nodded into the phone, then paused, closing his eyes, embarrassment coursing through him. “Of course.”
“Cool. See you then.”
Harry hung up and Neville was left to the beeping of the end of the call. He sighed, placing the phone back in its holder. One last task and then he was done. Half an hour for Harry to get here, ten minutes for him to pick up his flowers and then another half hour to close up the store. One last push and he could go home and sleep.
His head ached, a throbbing that continued down to his neck, the tense muscles rock hard under Neville’s fingers as he attempted to massage the pain away. His success was limited but he would take any lessening of the pain that he could get away with. Anything that would make the last dregs of this day a little less painful was nothing he would take for granted.
It seemed like no time had passed before the bell chimed again and Neville pushed his head upwards. Harry shot him a strained smile as he wandered through the shop, coming to a halt in front of Neville.
“Sorry for barging in on you, it’s raining cats and dogs out there.”
Neville’s eyes re-adjusted as he squinted through the glass windows. “Huh. So it is.” He shook his head a tad, wincing as he immediately regretted the movement. “Give me a sec, I’ll ring up your flowers.”
He busied himself fiddling with the cash register, all too aware of Harry’s eyes burning a hole through his body. Neville knew he looked like shit, he was well aware of it but there was nothing he could do. That was the thing about being an adult. It didn’t matter how bad you felt; if you weren’t dying in hospital, life had to go on. He just hoped that Harry would have enough decency to not mention it.
“You alright, Neville? You look a bit…”
Dammnit.
Neville looked up, meeting Harry’s brilliant green eyes with his own dull brown ones. “How exactly do I look, Harry? Like crap? I feel like crap, thanks so much for noticing.”
Harry didn’t reply and as Neville turned back to the register, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt for taking out his rotten mood on his friend. The bigger part of him, though, felt slightly vindicated, remembering all the times Harry had yelled at him, Ron or Hermione while they were still at school. The silence that echoed after his response didn’t help with the guilt though, as much as he tried to rationalise it.
“45 pounds and 10 pence.”
Harry swiped his card, watching the machine carefully as it thought over the transaction for a few moments before finally accepting it.
By that time, Neville had wrapped the flowers in a sheet of plain brown paper, his fingers fumbling through the usually automatic motions. Harry looked down at the moment and frowned, creases appearing between his eyebrows.
“I don’t need them wrapped.”
His tone had shifted, now stiff, and Neville blinked at the sudden change and then blinked again as a memory joined in with the pounding in his head.
“Right, yes, I remember, sorry.”
Anxiety that he knew was irrational but was still helpless to fight against swept through him. Suddenly, he was back to being eleven and clumsy, eleven and friendless. The kid who everyone talked about behind his back when they thought he couldn’t hear them, the kid that wasn’t liked but wasn’t hated, the kid who people put up with because he lived with them. His fingers - his stupid, fat fingers, fumbled, almost dropping the delicate flowers onto the floor.
Harry snatched them away, the sudden movement only countered by the gentleness with which he handled them once they were back in his possession.
“S-sorry.”
Heat spread across his cheeks as soon as he started speaking and realised that his childhood stutter had made a reappearance. Luckily, Harry didn’t comment, but his face remained shuttered and he turned towards the front of the store.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you around.”
Neville nodded, not trusting himself to speak when it was clear that Harry was just following societal niceties. He left without further affair, leaving Neville to collapse forwards onto the desk. The hope that had arisen after their last meeting, that maybe Neville would be able to rekindle a friendship with one of his old schoolmate, had shattered, leaving behind nothing but painful glass shards in its wake.
He pushed himself up and opened the cash register to start the end of day procedures. Neville had beyond stupid to think that someone like Harry Potter would want to be friends with him anyway.