Chapter 1
The war was over, and few had chosen to return to Hogwarts for their eighth year; Neville was one of those who did. He had always been passionate about herbology, but he knew that if he wanted to make a career out of it he needed to finish his time at Hogwarts and get a proper apprenticeship with a reputable Herbologist. The return to school after the war had Neville contemplating many of his relationships and past actions. He saw the haunted look in many of his classmate’s eyes that he was sure stared back at them from his own. He could sense the tension in many areas of the castle where the weight of the war had not yet lifted. In fact, Neville himself felt hesitant to walk through some of the courtyards and halls around the school. The room of requirement, in particular, was where Neville and the members of Dumbledore’s army had spent so many weeks hiding from the malevolent rulers of the school during the height of the war at Hogwarts.
The return to Hogwarts had been a lonely one, and Neville had begun to spend an increasingly large amount of time in the greenhouses helping out Professor Sprout. As her best and favourite student, though she would never say, Professor sprout recommended him for a position with one of the highest-ranking herbologists in Europe; the catch was that the job was in Greece. The institutes ancient roots in Mesopotamian medicine meant that some of the plants were thousands of years old; Neville would never get a chance like this again, and the position would allow Neville to escape the Haunted memories of the war and of his life itself.
The move to Greece wasn’t nearly as difficult as Neville had initially thought. Moving away from his grandmother was a relief in itself, and being in a city untouched by the dark lord was another. His new routine was simple, but he was finally able to get a full nights sleep. Neville soon became completely engrossed in his new position and lost touch with the world back in the UK. Letters between he and his friends slowly dwindled until one day he woke up and realized that he hadn’t spoken to anyone back home in months. A panic set it for a moment, mixing with the guilt of having forgotten everyone, topped off by how happy he finally felt. As he continued to spiral in his mind, Neville heard a sharp pecking at the window. There, outside his window in Greece was an owl, white with small black speckles along her back. Immediately Neville presumed it was Hedwig, only to remember that wasn’t possible. He stood up from the bed and made his way over to the snowy owl, passing by his desk he knew he hadn’t sent out any letters lately. Unlatching the window, the owl flew past him and perched herself on his dresser. She stood there for a moment staring at him before she started looking for food around his desk. Attached to her leg was an expensive looking white envelope sealed with the potter family crest. Guilt flushed over him again as he thought of Harry but a sharp peck from the owl snapped him out of his wallowing. Neville grabbed a treat from his desk drawer and presented it to the owl before untying the letter from her leg. He paused for a moment before opening the letter, why would harry have written him after such a long time? His question was soon answered when he opened the letter to find a notice of engagement along with an invitation to the wedding of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley. He’d never been a huge supporter of their relationship, especially after the war. It was obvious, at least to him, that Harry was only with her because he felt he had to be, because the relationship was a perfect ending for ‘the chosen one’, and because something as traumatic as a war means the public needed something happy to look forward to. Neville would never say that though. He knew he was cynical, always had been. Ever since life had decided that Neville would have to face a million trials and tribulations before he could find any peace. Besides, who was he to comment on the happiness of one of his best friends.
But Neville saw it all. All the snide comments and distrust. As a friend of them both he was privy to many of their fights. Fights which happened in any and all places, in front of multitudes of friends who never said a thing. So, Neville didn’t either. Because when the good times looked so good, and Harry was getting his happily ever after, how can you let that go? Neville wasn’t sure. It’s not like he’d ever been in a real relationship of his own, maybe he was jaded and stupid. Maybe that’s what relationships were like; no one had ever liked him enough for him to experience love and it’s not like his parents could be an example for him. But Neville didn’t want a relationship like Harry and Ginny’s. He would much rather stay in a greenhouse and care for his plants, his sweet, quiet, uncomplicated plants.
He was getting side tracked. Looking back at the invitation Neville saw the elegant golden letters twisted into the letters RSVP. Under that was a request for Neville to appear as a groomsman alongside Seamus, Dean, and Ron. A shiver of anxiety rolled down his spine as he realized the wedding was in only two months’ time. He would have to face his friends; the friends he’d been ignoring for months. His first thought was that it was a terrible idea. The wedding, him going back, it was all too much for him to deal with right now after he’d finally found some happiness. His second thought was that that was obviously selfish. This was his best friend’s wedding, of course he would attend. Despite his worries he was happy for his friends, and besides, they were adults, and they could do whatever they wanted. Quickly scrawling out his name and crossing out the plus one, he shoved down his fears. He would have to face his friends and family at some point anyways. Attaching the letter back on the snowy owl’s leg, he gave her one more treat before sending her off. As he watched her fly out of sight he was left with a goofy smile on his face and something a little heavier than butterflies in his stomach. There would certainly be reporters and cameras at the wedding, something he was incredibly glad to have escaped upon his move to Greece.
After he had slain Nagini in the war and stood up against the dark lord himself, Neville had gotten a boost of confidence which had allowed him to believe himself capable of such drastic change. But it was not to last, and Neville quickly reverted to his introverted routine, slowly closing off more and more as he isolated himself across the sea from his memories. Neville stewed in his bitter thoughts for the rest of the day and a few after.
Having to request time off from work was something Neville hadn’t done in the nearly nine months he’d been working at the greenhouses and despite his anxiety his higher ups were more than happy to give him time off. His boss was a short woman hardly over five foot, around fifty with rosy cheeks and a never-ending ear for gossip; So of course, she was overjoyed to let Neville attend what was to be the wedding of the century, so long as he brought back the details.
The day of his return to the UK was drawing nearer and Neville was worrying over his suitcase so much that he’d only just realized he didn’t own a suit. Now that he was thinking about it, he probably hadn’t worn one since the Yule Ball in fourth year. Needless to say, he had changed much since then. He didn’t give it a second thought until his portkey was due in a few hours’ time. He’d have to find a tailor in London. A quick enchantment of his apartment and shelves of plants would keep them alive while he was away. Neville reached the portkey with only twenty-four seconds to spare, and he’d ran a full sprint to catch it.
The ride was fairly bumpy, and Neville made a sloppy landing, thankfully he was alone, but when he finally set food on London soil, he couldn’t help but crack a smile. His grandmother had come to pick him up from the portkey, and despite how terrifying he could find her; in that moment he was more than relieved to see her. They made their way to his grandmother’s townhouse, making small conversation about life in Greece, and Neville set his things up in his old bedroom on the top floor.
As he took in his old room, a wave of nostalgia hit him, and he was filled with a comforting warmth that he missed. Being away from his friends and family for such a long time had made him forget how comforting it was to be around people who cared for you, at least to some degree. In Greece he’d been so busy with work that the only person he’d spoken to outside his job was the lady at the corner store. Augusta Longbottom was down in her kitchen preparing tea and pastries for the two of them when Neville came down the stairs.
Teatime with his grandmother was a new experience, one that she had finally deemed him worthy of since moving to Greece and becoming apprentice to one of the greatest herbologists of their time. Now that he was out of her care, she was finally treating him like an equal and Neville had never had such a pleasant conversation with her as he did then. When he had been under her care Augusta was overbearing and terrifying to him, but as his equal she was a kind, if opinionated woman who made a damn good pastry. As a grown man, Neville could now see the difficult position his grandmother had been placed in when his parents were rushed to St. Mungos, and she had been left to care for him alone. Out of her care and making his own way in the world, it was easy for him to find a fun and enjoyable conversation with the woman he’d so feared all his life. Despite all the new beginnings, he was still in bed by nine in the afternoon as had been standard growing up. It made Neville chuckle as he began to unpack the rest of his things.
The next morning Neville was awake, fed, and out the door by seven. A crisp breeze blew through the trees as Neville made his way into London in search of a tailor. Not many were open so early in the morning, so he took a scenic detour through a park that he used to come to before the war. It looked different now; The trees had lost their colour, and the birds didn’t sing so loudly. A curious looking squirrel skittered past, a small star like marking on its forehead catching Neville’s eye. Without realizing, he followed the squirrel down an alleyway and onto a quaint little cobbled street. By the time the little animal ran up a tree and over the rooftops, Neville’s eye had wandered over to a sign for a tailor’s shop. Thinking it an odd coincidence he cracked a smile and walked closer to see that a light was on inside and an open sign on the door.
The storefront looked rather new compared to the others around it, all looking like they had come straight out of the dark ages. He cautiously opened the door, but a bell alerted to his presence anyways. Noticing the lack of customers or staff he found himself standing squarely in the doorway, frozen. As he contemplated whether to leave or call out for someone, a curtain near the back of the shop rustled and a man emerged. He was tall and elegantly dressed in an emerald waistcoat and black trousers; Neville’s stomach twisted in its place when he saw the man’s face.
“Welcome! Is there anything I-“ Their eyes met then and Neville knew they were both feeling the disgusting guilt ridden thing that plagued Neville’s stomach. “Longbottom.” More of a statement than a question. “I thought you took up a herbology position in Greece?”
“I did.” Was all he could manage to get out. The lack of reciprocation had obviously shocked Zabini, and he took a moment before responding.
“So, what brings you back to London then?” A heavy blush fell over Neville as he realized how rude he had seemed.
“I’m actually in town for Harry and Ginny’s wedding.” Neville scrambled to redeem himself in the conversation.
Zabini looked amused. “I see” The man smiled. “Well please extend my congratulations to Harry, I presume you’re looking for a suit?”
Neville felt like crumpling into a little ball right then and there. Something about Zabini made Neville feel like a tiny garbage mouse. “y-yes please.” The man was so poised all the time, the perfect example of what a son of one of the wizarding families should be. Exactly what Neville wasn’t. “Do you think you might have something that will fit me?” Weight had been a sore subject most of Neville’s life, constantly getting poked fun at and mocked for it; when he moved to Greece and escaped the stress of the war, the extra pounds had seemed to disappear, leaving Neville looking like a new man.
“I think I just might.” Zabini winked before zipping behind the curtain again. Neville heard a few things fall in the back room, but he didn’t want to overstep his welcome, so he stayed put. Not a minute later Zabini came back out from the back and handed Neville a pile of what seemed to be rather expensive fabric. The man ushered Neville into a small changeroom he hadn’t noticed before. Alone in the changeroom, when Neville got the suit on, he became massively self-conscious that Zabini had been able to tell his exact measurements so easily. He’d worn oversized clothing to the tailors, in part because he hadn’t had the time to go shopping since dropping down a size.
“How does it fit?” Zabini pulled Neville out of his mind. “I take a lot of pride in my work you know; those pants were once worn by the duke of-“ Zabini stopped short as Neville emerged.
“Zabini. Please do not tell me that! What if I tear them?” On the verge of tears by the end, Neville was frustrated that his emotions once again were taking over.
“Neville” Zabini laid a hand on his shoulder as he inspected the outfit on Neville. “I was only kidding, I figured it’d rile you up a little!” he chuckled as he stepped back. “That suit looks incredible on you! I’ve been waiting for someone to wear it and you’re just perfect!” Neville turned red as an apple at the compliment. “Not to mention all the press attention!” the man was practically giddy.
“Zabini, I’m only an apprentice. I’m not sure I can afford something of this quality.” The awkward smile he gave was returned with a blank stare, only causing more fear to spread through Neville’s bones. A wicked grin grew on Zabini’s face “Nev, don’t worry Harry’s paid for everything already. I had the other groomsmen in just a week ago getting their suits tailored.”
Well Neville hadn’t expected that. Not one bit. All he could get out was a small “what?”
Zabini smirked. “Coincidence I suppose?” The man started laughing so hard he had to lean on the wall. “Anyways, Harry’s all paid up and that suit looks great on you. What do you think?”
“I-um” Neville looked in the mirror again. This suit really did fit him better than any piece of clothing he’d ever owned. “I’ll take it!” He burst out, finally.
The man smiled. “Bring it to the front when you’re ready, I’ll package it.”
Neville breathed a sigh of relief and admired his silhouette for a moment more before changing back into his regular clothes. He brought the suit to the front counter and Zabini began to wrap it. “You don’t have to do all that! Its only for me.”
He was met with a soft smile “I like my patrons to feel special, regardless of what the garment is for.”
It was a strange thing; he and Zabini having such a regular conversation. If he were to tell his younger self, he surely wouldn’t be believed. The rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin had seemed too large to overcome at Hogwarts. Not to mention Zabini had been associated with Draco and his gang, something that would make it taboo for Neville, a friend of Harry, to ever speak to him. It was funny now, after the war, the petty rivalry of their school days was so small in comparison to everything they’d been through.
“Enjoy the wedding Longbottom.” Zabini smiled at him as he left the small shop.