Chapter 2
Neville spent the next few days catching up with Harry, Ron, Seamus, and Dean as they prepared for the wedding and stag party. His days were filled with trips to little shops, picking up all of Ginny’s very specific decorations, interspersed with trips to the pub as the other groomsmen complained about Ginny’s finnicky taste. There were endless questions about what Neville had been up to in the many months since they’d last spoken and it didn’t seem to get through when Neville said he’d really only been back and forth to work. As much as Neville loved his friends, they were very different to him. Neville had a hard time understanding their lifestyle in the same way they questioned his; he couldn’t fathom getting blasted nightly in the same way that Harry and Ron did, though he suspected there were external reasons for that beyond the party life. Neville had too many responsibilities at the greenhouse to do that all the time, in fact he couldn’t remember if he’d even touched alcohol in Greece.
The days with the groomsmen were starting to catch up with him too. The endless consumption of ale made his stomach churn and his knees week, Harry was buying round after round and Neville couldn’t keep up. He began ditching his pints in the sinks just so he could make it home at the end of the night.
When the day of the stag party finally came Neville was feeling so ill from the days prior that he ditched all his drinks that night, staying fully sober. Though he regretted it the next day.
Harry hadn’t wanted much of a bachelor party, but Ron had planned the Stag of the century. It was one of the worst nights of his life, starting with Harry in a terrible mood because of some fight he and Ginny had been in, followed with Harry drinking WAY too much. Neville was glad to find out the next morning that no one else remembered much because he remembered it all. Every stinking, shitty detail. Harry, in a foul mood to begin with, had only gotten worse as he got more drunk, and he began to air out all he and Ginny’s issues. This was followed by Harry claiming Ginny was cheating and a comment Neville would never repeat to anyone. It was this comment which set Ronald off and he and harry began to fight. Neville, being the only sober one, had to pry them off of each other, but as a slender guy, the two aurors were much stronger and Neville had ended up swimming in the Thames. Unfortunately, the others were too drunk to notice, and Neville had to drag himself up onto the banks alone. By the time he made it back up to the street they were gone, and Neville gave up and headed home.
Neville woke that morning of the wedding, having narrowly escaped frostbite, and with absolutely no faith in the marriage he was to attend later that day. When he arrived at the venue in the morning the others apologised, though they could scarcely remember what they were apologising for. Thankfully the fight hadn’t left either Harry or Ron with visible marks and the two were goofing around like usual. They were all swamped with preparations for the wedding up until the very last moment, as Ginny barked out orders like a military general from her makeup chair.
The actual event was incredible. Undoubtably the largest and most elegant event he’d ever attended; not that he’d attended many. Ginny looked like a goddess walking down the aisle in the evening light, and in that moment, Neville forgot all the doubts he’d had about them.
The reception was held in a massive ballroom, one fit for kings, Neville thought. The balconies overlooked the Thames, sparkling with the light of the moon in a way that seemed impossibly magical. The beauty of the venue was overshadowed by the hordes of reporters and cameras which blinded Neville whenever he passed. He ran into what felt to him like hundreds of people from school who asked where he’d been, what he’d been up to, why had he lost so much weight? The questions became increasingly personal, and Neville grew increasingly uncomfortable. As he repeated the same spiel over and over, he could feel the life draining out of himself. Late into the night when people were beginning to clear out of the venue, Neville grabbed a flute or two of champagne and slipped out onto the balcony. He could see the beginning of a blood red sunrise over the Thames, he couldn’t believe how late- or early rather, it had gotten.
The two weeks at home slipped by and soon Neville was catching his portkey back to Greece. When he opened the door to his apartment Neville felt different. He felt a weight on his heart unlike one he’d felt before. For the first time since moving, Neville was feeling homesick. As he fell into his regular routine, he fell into his isolation again.
A month passed before Neville realized how lonely he’d become. Even Blaise Zabini had made a life for himself after the war, a life that seemed rather nice for all that had happened. Why was he the only one who couldn’t even stay in his home for longer than two weeks? Why couldn’t he face his friends and family? The people who loved him?
Despite his aversion to hospitals, Neville resolved to himself that he would see a mind healer by Hallows eve. Though the celebrations would come and go, Neville too engrossed in his work to even realize that he’d missed them. And of course, he’d neglected going to any hospitals.
In early November, his supervisor called him into her office. Her usual rosy grin greeted him. “Neville, darling! I’d like to discuss an opportunity with you.” She pushed a plate of cookies towards him, he gratefully accepted one then she continued. “As you well know, the international herbology conference is coming up this December, and I’d like for you to represent us.” She sat there smiling as if she hadn’t just offered Neville one of the greatest opportunities of his life.
“p-pardon me?”
“Well, I can’t make it this year, I have a prior engagement in Ethiopia with a great herbologist and there’s no one in this greenhouse I trust more than you to represent us!” she grinned. “Oh Neville, I won’t take no for an answer! You’re easily the best and hardest worker here. I’ll send you an email with the details; a portkey will be set up for the twentieth of December.”
She guided Neville out the door and shut it behind him, leaving him flabbergasted. He glanced at the door for a moment before making his way to his desk and finding the email there waiting for him. The details stated the event was scheduled for the 23rd of December and that he’d be leaving the twentieth. The rest was mostly bureaucratic nonsense, though it made Neville’s stomach flip, nonetheless. The real kicker is that the event was to be held in London. He’d be going back, and so soon after his last trip. It was hard to tell what he was feeling exactly, but his heart was pounding so hard he thought it would burst out of his chest. He wracked his brain for a while trying to figure the feeling out one way or another until coming to the conclusion that the decision was made, and he was going to London regardless. This was an incredible opportunity; one he couldn’t pass up.
In the days leading up to his trip back to London, Neville was filled with a bombardment of thoughts which lead to him spending all his time off of work hyper focusing on his plants, the number of which was increasing along with his stress. When the day finally came, it was just like his last. He again sprinted to catch his portkey, and again, found his grandmother waiting for him on the other side. Her smile let him forget the stress which had been plaguing him for the last month and he once again settled into the house he grew up in.
The next morning, it felt as though he hadn’t missed a beat. Like he hadn’t gone home after the wedding. The only difference was the fresh snow now falling from the sky. It was only at lunch on the 21st when Neville remembered the dress code for the event. His grandmother fretted that he couldn’t wear the same suit he had for the wedding! It was a completely different event.
Thus, he found himself wandering back through the park and onto the cobbled street where Zabini’s shop was. It looked different in winter, frost making fractals on the window and snow dusting the ledges. He found himself oddly pleased that the shop was once again void of customers, perhaps due to the proximity to the holidays. Walking into the store and hearing the bell chime once again, Zabini was at the counter this time and snapped his head up to meet Neville’s gaze.
“Longbottom! Back again I see.” His smile spread across his entire face, and Neville thought how nice his teeth were. He soon collected himself, realizing how weird that thought was.
Neville smiled back at the man. “No, this time it’s for a work event.” At this Zabini looked intrigued, but he kept silent. “There’s a dress code for the event but I was worried that I may not remember so I printed it out.” Neville blushed in embarrassment, it was awkward to admit, but he’d always had a hard time remembering things. Though he figured Blaise knew a fair amount of it from Draco’s teasing in school. He pulled the crumpled paper out of his pocket and Zabini walked out from behind the counter, gently taking the paper from Neville. He stood there for a moment analyzing the paper, it was closer than the two of them had been before. This close Zabini was a few inches taller, and Neville could see how long Zabini’s eyelashes were.
In that moment Zabini looked up at him, “I think I’ve got what you’re looking for” Smiling, he once again dashed out of sight and rustled through the back room. He emerged with another extravagant looking suit and shoved it into Neville’s arms with a huge grin. “I only sewed that one a few weeks ago, you’re lucky you came before I sold it.”
Neville made his way to the changeroom, and, if possible, the suit seemed to fit even better than the last. He admired the way it fell on his body; nothing had ever fit him as well as this. He looked gorgeous.
“So Longbottom, what kind of work event requires such a dapper dress code?” Zabini’s liquid smooth voice poured through the curtain of the changeroom.
“It’s the international Herbology conference. M-My supervisor will be away in Ethiopia, so she sent me.” An embarrassed flush crossed his cheeks. It didn’t really sound like much to him so he was sure Blaise wouldn’t be overly impressed.
“Neville that’s incredible!” a proud smile caught up with him. “What an honour to be chosen for a conference like that! I had no idea you were doing such important work in Greece!”
“I-it’s not that impor-“. Neville stopped short. It kind of was. He was working with his seniors on medicinal cures for some of the worst diseases to ravage the wizarding and muggle communities in the past few hundred years. “I um, I’m glad to even be a part of the research. There’s a whole group of us though, I still can’t believe I’m the one at the conference.” His honesty was unexpected by both parties and in the silence that followed, Neville stepped out of the dressing room. The silence persisted as Zabini looked Neville up and down enough times to make Neville blush bright red, an unfortunate by-product of his shyness.
“Longbottom…” Zabini trailed off as he began to circle Neville like a shark. “You look-“ He froze, nose scrunching, “I mean the suit looks amazing.”
“It’s truly an incredible suit Zabini.” The silence returned and Neville went back to the change room. The two kept up small conversation as Neville handed over the immaculate suit to Zabini. For all that Zabini wore designer clothing and seemed to have an insatiable taste for the expensive, his prices were more than acceptable to Neville given the quality of his product. It shocked him at first, assuming that due to his tastes Zabini would overcharge in the same way the designer brands he so loved did. His next thought was shame that he’d stereotyped Zabini in such a way, his quaint shop and regular prices were a far cry from what Neville had assumed the man to be doing with his life. Neville was however immensely grateful, as he was still only an apprentice his salary wasn’t anything special. As he walked out the door, he glanced back at Zabini one last time and found that the man was already staring back at him with a smile.