Snapshots

Harry was a comfortable weight against his side, cheek pressed to Neville’s shoulder. Nearly everyone took a nap during History of Magic, so it wasn’t all that strange, but admittedly most students didn't cuddle up to their desk partners. Or carry a teeny tiny snake in their hair who had the funniest whistling snores herself.

Neville knew what it looked like, he truly did, he just couldn’t be bothered by it. After the lecture from this morning, he might have even encouraged it in a fit of contrariness. What right did McGonagall have to say who he could be friends with?

The only people not asleep (or zoned out so hard they might as well have been asleep) was Hermione with her diligent note-taking, and Hannah whispering with Susan over a book of hair care.

And Neville, of course.

His reason to stay awake was because this was just about the only time he could filch Harry’s sketchbook to leisurely flip through the pages, without getting it snatched back or rushed past the more interesting stuff.

It was like getting a peek inside Harry’s brain, complete with all the little things he tried so hard to downplay. Mutilated hands with exposed muscle and bone, carefully highlighted with bits of red ink. Dogs with nightmarish grins and bright eyes. Eyeballs, bones, spiders, strange symbols that made Neville’s eyes ache if he looked at them too long.

He paid most attention to the people. There weren’t many, and half of them were just bits and pieces peeking out from behind other doodles. The ones Neville could find were fascinating, and after a while Neville could start to pick out which were recurring figures and which were random students. A broad shouldered man wearing a mask, a clown who’s long nose reminded Neville a bit of Professor Snape, and a teenager with goggles that was easily the one who always picked Harry up at the train station.

The one Neville found most often was also the most hidden, behind long hair or hoods or drawn from behind. More attention was paid to the knife the figure carried than their face, and Neville was impatiently waiting for Harry to cough up a proper portrait instead of hints. They had to be someone important to appear so often.

Neville froze as Harry shifted against him. When the Badger settled back down to finish his nap, Neville let out a slow breathe.

He could see why Harry got anxious about his sketchbook, some pages would have churned the stomach of a lesser person with the amount of loving detail paid to exposed entrails and a particularly violent portrayal of Ron hanging from a noose. Now there was an idea, Neville snorted. That reminded him..

Blaise had asked, during another round of Harry playing with the Slytherin Quidditch team, “what do you think he sees when he looks at us?”

“What?”

“Surely you’ve noticed? They way he watches people, like they’re some newly discovered creature. That split second of indecision before he reacts to a comment. I’ve noticed that sometimes he waits to see how you’ve responded, before doing so himself, as if he’s not sure what would be found acceptable. He was quite the wild little thing in our first year was he not? You’ve.. Grounded him somehow.”

It was comments like that, that kept Neville from warming up to Blaise. He was polite and helpful to Harry’s face and then later talked as if Harry was something other than human. Acting as if Neville would agree with him.

Typical Slytherin double-talk.

Neville hated him.

He shrugged off the conversation as he turned the pages to find the most recent doodles. Hah. A whole series of dangerous plants with teeth and barbs and tight coils squeezing the life out of a victim. All of them fairly normal plants that could be found in the Greenhouse but with their more dangerous aspects amplified to a gory degree.

It made Neville smile because while Harry might not act like a typical Wizard, he was exactly like a Fanged Geranium. Temperamental, likely to bite if you got too close, and might have started a war. Kinda pretty. If you don’t pay a fanged Geranium enough attention they sulked for days. They needed sunshine to blossom, but too much and they’d wilt away into whimpering heaps.

Dead useful in a scarce handful of potions, but otherwise just nice to have around.

Neville had heard of a gardener that taught her Geraniums to bark in synchronized patterns but.. Uh.. Harry was completely and utterly tone deaf. He had been thoroughly banned from ever joining the Choir club by none other than Professor Flitwick.

Geraniums were also very territorial over their pots.

“That’s mine,” Harry grumbled into his shoulder.

“I’m not going to run off with it. And I don’t see why you’re so secretive about it, not like this is going to be the thing that finally makes me run away screaming. They’re just pictures.”

Harry muttered something low and hissy, then yawned and rubbed his face against Neville’s shoulder before sitting upright. “Aren’t we done yet?”

“Almost. ‘Nother ten minutes. Did you know Mimi snores?”

And there was that slightly besotted look Harry got on his face when thinking about his baby snake. “She’s so cute. I can’t wait till she can start setting things on fire.”

“I don’t think she’ll be allowed here when she gets to that part.” Being an unlisted creature, someone obviously had had to get permission for her to be at Hogwarts at all, and likely the teachers were keeping a close eye. Snape must have been tricked into it, there was no way in hell he would have agreed to such a favor for Harry.

Neville could tolerate Blaise for a little while longer.

Harry flapped a hand at him. “Eh. Bridges will be burned when we get to them. God I’m fucking starving. Can we go yet?”

Neville shrugged a shoulder. Binns never seemed to wrap up his lectures, he just sort of kept going on and on and on and on… when they were lucky, the students walked into the class with him droning about something they were supposed to be learning.

Harry rolled his eyes. He grabbed for his sketchbook and missed as Neville moved it away. “Dammit Nev!”

“I’m still looking!”

“It’s my fucking book!”

“And? You’ve been losing your books left and right lately, what’s one more?”

Harry honest-to-gods growled at the reminder of Tom..

“Boys…” Hannah whispered her warning.

Harry looked back over his shoulder, to see her holding a finger up to her lips. Oh yeah. They were still in class. Fucking tedious.. Harry slid down in his seat to wait out the handful of minutes, sulking at Neville’s triumphant grin and theft of his goddamn sketchbook.

Neville tucked it away into his satchel, keeping it to the far side away from Harry just in case the Badger got tempted to nick it back.

“What’re we doing for lunch?”

Harry refused to answer, slouched so low in his seat now that he was practically laying down. He stuck his lower lip out and settled into his sulk with determination and spite.

Neville tried not to laugh, the image of a sullen Fanged Geranium flashing through his mind. While he had no mice on hand to lure Harry into a better mood-he did have a cookie in his pocket. He waggled the chocolate-chip sweet at the Hufflepuff.

The smile slipped through Harry’s sulk much as he tried to suppress it. “That’s cheating.”

“No, it’s bribery. Very different.”

Harry eyed the cookie a moment longer than snatched it from Neville’s hand, just as the bells chimed to signal the end of class. Students jerked upright and sleepily collected their things as Harry bit into the treat. “Fine. Keep the stupid book.”

Neville still kept a hand over the flap of his school bag, juuust in case. And walked around to Harry’s other side as the Badger tried to stay on his right. Cookie or no cookie, he didn’t trust Harry to not try and get the sketchbook back.