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Chapter Text

The Year Is 2016

"Neville! Neville, someone is breaking into the shop!"

Neville Longbottom rushes out of the bathroom —a towel hastily wraps around his waist with a flick of his hand— at the sound of his friend's frantic cries. He touches the two-way mirror on the wall in his sitting room.

"Lavender, Apparate to the manor!"

The witch's eyes are wide and full of fear. Neville feels rage fill him for the bastard that put it there.

"I tried, b-but it didn't work, neither did the Floo."

"Anti-Apparition wards and they blocked the network. Fuck! I'm coming to get you. Can you get to the basement and bolt the door?"

"Ye-"

There's a flash of light, and the connection is severed; her mirror has been hit with a spell.

The ex-Hit Wizard runs back into his bedroom, quickly pulls on the clothes Orchid had placed on the bed earlier, then sends his Patronus to Harry. 

Grabbing his wand from a side table, Neville Disapparates to the rear exterior of Lavender's shop, the entrance to her apartment.

With encouragement from Angelina and her other friends, Lavender had opened her own beauty parlour in Hogsmeade. Unfortunately, there are some witches and wizards who don't want a werewolf, partial or not, owning businesses and living in their community.

After reconnecting and getting to know each other somewhat at Hermione's home in Trinidad, Neville and Lavender began greeting each other in passing. Then one day, Neville rescued her from a mob of wizards during a vulnerable time of the month for her. They've been close ever since.

The Warding at the apartment's back door recognises him, and the wizard opens it. Looking toward the other end of the corridor, Neville notices the cabinet door into the shop is open. The wizard tightens his grip on his wand. 

The house is quiet, which is concerning because he knows Lavender; the feisty witch would never quietly give in.

A Homenum Revelio shows that no one is nearby. However, as Neville nears the door to the basement, the spell exposes the energies of a group of people gathered there.

Silent and invisible, Neville carefully turns the handle.

The basement is dark, and the wizard closes the door behind him, taking a moment to let his eyes adjust. Neville makes his way down the stairs, then stops, marking the darker shadows of the room.

A shadow -too large to be Lavender- makes a slight movement and in an instant, Neville fires a silent Stunner at it. A body drops, a woman shrieks, lights go on, the wizard is blinking at the brightness, and then there are loud voices.

"Happy birthday!"

Neville's eyes focus just as Lavender barrels into him, wrapping her arms around his waist, her head barely reaching past his chest. He dissolves his Disillusionment Charm, not surprised that she can sense him.

"I'm sorry, Neville. They made me do it, I swear." Lavender looks up at him with a hopeful smile, ignoring a whisper of ‘snitch’ from Hermione. "I got you a brilliant gift to make up for it."

Neville shakes his head in exasperation as the adrenaline slowly trickles away.

"I won't give you a stern talking-to if you promise not to do that again unless it's a real emergency Lavender. I was worried."

"I promise not to do that again unless it's an emergency." With an apologetic look, the witch rests her head on his chest again. "I'm sorry I upset you."

Neville stares down at the top of her head. Her hair is a mane of soft, dark and kinky waves, its fragrance reminiscent of his rose garden at the manor. With a sigh, he wraps his hand around her.

"I told you they're a thing."

"No we're not, Draco," Neville and Lavender say at the same time.

"Who did I hit with the Stunner?" Neville asks, looking around at his friends.

Harry is smirking at him knowingly, with Hermione beside him. Dean is standing next to Luna and Draco. Angelina is sitting on the floor next to George, rubbing his chest as he groans. Denise is sitting on Severus' lap on a sofa chair in the corner of the room, staring at each other.

"Do they ever turn it off?" Neville asks, realising that he's never seen them apart.

"Have you seen Snape lately?" Lavender murmurs as everyone gathers around them, with Harry conjuring a candlelit cake, "I'm shocked she lets him out the bedroom, not to mention, their quarters at Hogwarts."

"Ugh, you have no idea," Hermione replies, with a roll of her eyes, "the number of hormonal teenage witches that ogle him now. It's obscene."

Harry folds his arms and gives his wife a look.

"Um-hmm, I seem to remember a certain teenage witch who, up until our wedding night, couldn't keep—"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, mister," Hermione says, poking Harry's arm.

Neville shakes his head, smiling in relief that all his friends are okay. Releasing Lavender, the wizard moves toward the cake as everyone —even Denise and Severus— gather around him.

There are thirty-six candles for his number of birthdays. Nine of them represent well-wishes from his friends present, and one is unlit for his own wish.

Neville touches the unlit candle with the tip of his finger, and it ignites as he thinks of his deepest desire. Then taking a deep breath, he blows them all out.

The smoke from ten candles rises, intertwining in the air above him. Forming into a star-shaped mist, it explodes into a shower of sparkling lights around him.

The wizard smiles with genuine happiness and gratitude.

"Thank you for the well-wishes, guys."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"Fuck, Marry, Kill. Avengers edition!" Hermione ignores the ladies' groans as she spreads out Lavender's DVDs for inspiration. "You all know the rules—"

"This feels teenager-ish ... how old are we again?" Angelina says, sprawled on the floor with Luna and Lavender, in front of the sofa.

"Old enough to use the word fuck without it sounding forced and immature," Denise says, not joined to Severus for once. Though, Lavender can sense the witch's jitteriness.

The men have chosen to watch a manly movie down in the comfortably decorated basement lounge. The ladies joined Lavender in her upstairs living room to binge-watch their favourite episodes of Grimm, Supernatural, and season one of Lucifer.

"As I was saying," Hermione continues, "in case you've forgotten the rules. You can't have sex with who you marry, and you can have sex with the person you choose to fuck only once."

Lavender chuckles at the witch, who used to be a goody-two-shoes Gryffindor Prefect, using the word fuck and sex. She zips her lips shut at Hermione's glare and flicks away the key.

"Here we go. So from my left, Denise, whom would you fuck, marry and kill? Thor, Loki, Tony Stark."

"Shit, yuh just throw three gorgeous men my way just so?" Denise taps her wine glass with the tip of a manicured fingernail as she thinks. "I'd fuck Loki, marry Tony Stark and kill Thor."

"What?"

"No way!"

"Why would you do that to Thor?" Someone whines.

"Luna, same characters," Denise says, grinning at her friend on the floor, "who would you fuck, marry and kill?"

"Hmm, I think I'd fuck Tony Stark, marry Loki and kill Thor."

Angelina huffs playfully beside her.

"Oh come on, do you all hate Thor? Because I'd definitely fuck Tony Stark, marry Thor and kill Loki."

Lavender giggles, "We know, Angie. Because you married the wizarding world's version of Tony Stark and Thor blended into one. The wealthy inventor slash brave, goofy Gryffindor."

Angelina chuckles at her friend's description, nodding.

"Then what about you, Lavender?"

"I'd definitely kill Thor. Sorry, Angie. But it's so hard to choose between Tony Stark and Loki."

"Yeah, " Hermione says, leaning against Denise, and smirking a little, "they're quite similar, aren't they? Except, one is a brilliant muggle, and the other's a brilliant sorcerer. Well, while you're deciding, I'd fuck Tony Stark, marry Loki and kill Thor. Of course, as you all can see, I married my Loki."

The other witches snort and giggle at her wishful thinking until Lavender makes her decision.

"Then, that leaves me no choice. I think I'll balance things out —again, sorry Angie— and so, I fuck Loki, marry Tony Stark, and kill Thor."

The game goes this way for some time with the witches changing characters, movies and then episodes.

"Grimm's Sean, Nick, and Munroe."

"Supernatural's Dean, Sam, and Castiel."

"Lavender, your turn. Amenadiel, Lucifer, and Dan."

"Oooh, this one's easy. I'd fuck Amenadiel, marry Lucifer, and kill Dan."

"I'd have said you'd have fucked Lucifer, and married Amenadiel," says Luna.

"Oh, no, no, no. My way, at least I'd get to fuck that lickable angel once. Plus, I'd be married to a sexy devil; one who'd have an unbelievable number of ways of making me cum, beyond penetration."

"Hmm, good point."

Neville and the other men turn the volume back up on the TV, as Harry releases the listening spell, once they realise that the ladies aren't using actual wizards in their game.

"You might have to keep an eye on your witch, Neville." Severus lounges casually on a sofa chair as he glances sideways at his sort of son. "I've seen this Lucifer character, thanks to Denise, and he bears a striking resemblance to Rodulphus Lestrange."

Harry nods in agreement while George and Draco look on, entertained.

"Lavender and I are just friends," Neville says, relaxing on the sofa with an arm extended on the backrest, then quickly looks at Harry, "Lestrange is dead, yeah?"

Harry nods.

"In Azkaban, some years ago."

Dean looks away from the television.

"You and Lavender really aren't dating then," he says, looking hopeful, "so you wouldn't mind if I ask her out?"

Neville snorts, shaking his head.

"That's up to you, mate."

Dean nods in satisfaction and turns back to the movie. 

Neville looks down, thinking of his Soulmate. His enjoyment of the evening diminishes when he thinks of what the universe wants for him.

The wizard startles as his brother's hand clasps his shoulder, and Harry leans over, his voice softened.

"Are you certain you want Dean to make a move on Lavender? He might not be Lucifer Morningstar, but he just might be the long lost son of Idris Elba." Harry tilts his head, looking at Neville with a fake grave look. "And once he hits that, she'll never — ow!"

Harry rubs his arm where Neville punched him, his face screwed up in pain even with his laughter. George and Draco pretend to watch the movie as they try to contain their snickers. Severus rolls his eyes at the boys' antics, and Dean only glances at them briefly, too engrossed in the movie.

"Don't talk about her like that," Neville says calmly, "And how many times do we have to tell you guys that she and I are just friends?"

"When it sounds believable," George says, gesturing with his hands as he tries to find the words, "it just seems that uh..."

"Doth protests too much," Draco continues, pointing his beer bottle at Neville, "is what my friend here is probably trying to say."

Geoge nods, his brow furrowing.

Neville takes a large swig of his beer.

"If that's what you all think, then so be it. Lavender and I are friends, and that's all we'll ever be."

A tingling sensation makes itself known and the wizard dismisses it; which is fine, he's been ignoring it for years.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Later that evening, when all her friends are gathered in the alley behind her apartment, Lavender keeps Neville from leaving.

"I hope you didn't think I forgot about your gift," she says, drawing out the box from behind her and holding it out to him.

"You've been asking me, for over a year, to make a Glamour for you." Lavender gazes earnestly into his eyes. "But Neville, you don't need a Glamour Charm. You're perfect the way you are. You just need an entirely new wardrobe to see what I see."

Neville opens the box to find a small, freestanding mirror in an ornate frame.

"Umm..." he hums with a confused smile.

"I made this minor Abysm just for you. It has a Shrinking Charm on it at the moment, and it extends into a full length, and very heavy, mirror. So put it on the floor before you remove the spell." Fiddling with the scarf around her throat, she smiles nervously. "It shows you thousands of different styles of clothing and accessories —muggle and wizard— that would look perfect on you, and only you. I'll come by and show you how it works tomorrow."

"Thank you, this is an incredible gift. You're an amazing witch Lavender Brown." Neville's smile is genuine this time, and Lavender places a gentle kiss on his cheeks.

"Happy birthday, Neville."

Lavender walks him out the door, and he joins the others. Apparently, the men have plans for Harry’s birthday in the next half hour.

"Lavender."

"Hey, Dean. Are you joining them on their night of debauchery?"

"Yeah." The wizard straightens the flaps of his jacket and Lavender is hit by the scent of Gucci Guilty cologne. Dean smiles, his dimples highlighted, and he slowly licks his lips. “So I was wondering if I could take you to dinner sometime?”

Lavender brushes the dark curls of her hair aside, blushing at his Blair Underwood-meets-L.L. Cool J's brand of charm.

"I'd like that."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Two days following her friend's date with Dean, Angelina visits Lavender after spending all day at her own store stocking new toys.

"Merlin, I never get tired of seeing that wall of water," Angelina says, looking at Lavender's main workspace, "You're as good at Charms as Denise, maybe even better. Why didn't you apply for the teaching position at Hogwarts?"

Lavender turns from closing up the shop, throwing Angelina a what the fuck look.

"Cuz I am not that kind of teacher, Angie, you know that"

With a single spell, Lavender tidies the small selection of custom cloaks and dress robes on the racks, then she wanders over to the ‘wall’ of water —the Black Abysm mirror— her friend is admiring.

"Sometimes I wonder what I'd have seen if I'd stood in front of this mirror as a teenager," Angelina says softly, "was the spell difficult to create?"

"Very, since it’s not just one Spell, or one Potion, nor one Rune. I had to master Divination before I was finally able to get it to work." Lavender touches the cabinet with jewelled purses arranged neatly on its shelves, and it slides forward silently. "I never thought I'd be able to combine two of the things I love the most about magic and build a career."

Angelina follows Lavender through the hidden door that leads to her apartment above the shop. "If it wasn't for you, I would have still thought that most forms of Divination —minus the kind Sages use— were rubbish." 

The witch then begins unpacking the take-out she's brought for the two of them.

"I'm glad to hear that. Professor Trelawney caused it to have a bad reputation, but she helped me a lot all those years before I could — before I was able to manage the glamour curse." Lavender gets drinks to go with their Chinese, pausing to stare at the expensive wine. "So much has changed for the better since you and the others came into my life. I’m just, I'm really grateful."

Angelina reaches over the counter and gently squeezes Lavender's hand, then they take seats on the barstools.

"So," Angelina begins, dipping her shrimp wonton into the oyster sauce, "how was your date with Dean Thomas?"

Lavender swallows a mouthful of Cantonese noodles, trying to keep a smile from her face.

"I have to say, I get why Ginny picked him at school during my sixth year to try to make Harry jealous."

"Hmm, sounds like someone had a good time." Angelina bit into a wonton to hide her grin.

"I did," Lavender says, taking a small sip of her wine, "his soulmate is going to be one lucky girl."

"Oh, so he-"

"Yep, he found her about two years ago, but unfortunately, she's still a student at Hogwarts."

"Oooh," Angelina winces.

"Yeah. Dean says she doesn't know what he is to her, and that he's staying away until she leaves Hogwarts and has some adult experiences." The witch takes a forkful of noodles.

"Ohhh, that's so sweet of him."

Lavender nods.

"It is," she says, wiping her lips with a napkin, "which is why I dry-humped him into a screaming orgasm as a reward."

Angelina sputters, choking on her wine at the graphic visual, and almost falls off the stool howling with laughter.

"Bet you didn't know you could do that if your partner is mated to another." Lavender twirls some noodles onto her fork. "I think he cried a little too. Poor guy."

The witch looks down, grinning at Angelina on the floor who is holding her stomach and fighting to catch a breath.

"Are you gonna be okay?"

Angelina nods, wiping her eyes and still giggling as she slowly drags herself up from the floor.

"So, have you ever given Neville that special treatment?"

Lavender shakes her head furiously.

"No, of course not. I would never do that to Neville. He's my friend. Besides, that wizard deserves so much better than some witch dry-humping his dick for fun."

Taking a generous sip of her wine, Lavender doesn't see Angelina’s knowing look.

Chapter Text

"How did you find this place?" Neville asks, holding onto Lavender's hand as they step from the riverboat onto the mossy banks of the Caeri Mire Botanical Garden located in the Hyarima District.

"Denise brought me here once when she found out that I extract the magical essence from plants for my Divination research and projects."

It's early dawn over the tiny Trinidadian island, and deep in the Caeri mire, a dense fog covers the still waters of the river and the clusters of mangrove trees.

Neville can't seem to wipe the awe from his face as he gapes at the lush herbage. He looks down at Lavender beside him.

"Thank you for bringing me here."

The witch smiles at him and nods silently.

Muted echoes of birds, crickets and other unknown animals are heard from the darkness of the trees. The wizard closes his eyes and turns in a slow circle, allowing his magick to flood to the surface of his being, then he senses it. Thick, alien magick permeates the air around them.

"I think there's more than magickal plants in here," Neville says, detecting shadowy movements in brief respites of the swirling fog through the trees.

"Didn't you read the brochure I gave you?" Lavender asks, turning to him after slipping the helmsman a tip for bringing two early-bird visitors into the cold, foggy swamp.

"Uh, not really. I thought it would be a good idea to explore the paths; see what I find."

Lavender is looking at him, horrified, and the helmsman also gives Neville a long-suffering glower.

"Please doh give ah man dah kin'ah wuk dis hour ah de day nah, pahtnah," the man says, restarting the engine, "it hard to look fuh ah body when it ha'e nutten to find."

"Did you get any of that?" Neville asks her, grinning as the boat speeds away.

Lavender stands rigidly, glaring at him with her hands on her hips. Her hair is tied at the top of her head, looking like a giant puffball of curls. His petite friend is also wearing her favourite go-to muggle outfit; a white tank top, blue jeans shorts, and black wedge-heeled boots.

Defeating the urge to slowly appreciate her stance and appearance, Neville plasters a confused look on his face.

"Yes," she grounds out huskily, "basically, it's a good thing I decided to come with you. Otherwise, you'd be dead, and no one would ever find your body."

Her voice wavers and the wizard tries to apologise. However, Lavender is having none of it. She huffs in frustration, whirls away, and stomps along the clearly marked trail.

"Lav—"

The hem of her shorts valiantly cling to the base of her jiggling arsecheeks, and her hips sway dangerously as the witch flounces away. Maybe it's for the best that he keeps a steady pace behind her... let her anger dissipate. 

He should also probably scrounge up some contrition for making her angry in the first place.

Lavender stops, bending over to pluck some stray herb to place in the basket she carries, and Neville quickly looks away. He's ogled his friend enough for one day.

Clearing his throat, the wizard hurries over to see what the witch found. It's unremarkable to look at, but Neville doesn't know what kind of plant it is.

"Do you want me to cast a charm to preserve it?" he offers meekly, hoping she relents and forgives him. "I was thinking, when we get home, I could assemble a miniature greenhouse so that you can grow more of these."

"No, it's fine. Thanks." 

The witch is looking around at the ghosts appearing from the fog, touting their cuttings or landscaped garden goods. Gone is the anger from her tone, but Neville feels guilt finally emerge for taking the smile from her face.

Lavender had bought two tickets for him to visit this place and hid them under the minor Abysm she made for his birthday. 

He could have brought anyone with him, Susan Bones would have enjoyed this. The Floralogist has a small flower shop in Diagon Alley, and they usually meet up at Herbology conventions every year.

However, Neville wanted Lavender to be here with him. The witch happily came along even though she doesn't like outdoor activities as much as he does.

"I'm sorry that I didn't read the brochure. But I promise you, I would have gotten a guide if you had decided not to come with me."

Lavender shuffles sideways, bumping into him and Neville places an arm around her shoulder, relieved that she accepts his apology.

"Denise told me that there are creatures in these swamps that would make the Forbidden Forest look like a kindergarten playground. Then I read the brochure and heard the stories from a previous guide. God, Neville. You could have died because I got tickets for you to see some stupid plants!"

"Shh, it's alright, Lavender. I'm alright." Neville presses a kiss to her temple. "Come on, let's go shop around and gather some more stupid plants. Then we can do something you like; maybe watch some stupid tv shows."

Lavender giggles at his muffled words against her head.

"You like those stupid tv shows too. Don't deny it."

Neville can't and doesn't, and the rest of their day in the rapidly humid swamp is without incident.

They get back to Britain and Lavender's place just after lunch. Neville calls his personal house-elf, Orchid, to take his plants to his greenhouse at Longbottom Manor and bring him fresh clothes, while Lavender goes to freshen up.

She offers him the use of her bathroom and a towel, and Neville takes a hot shower before returning to her living room in the robes delivered by Orchid. Sometime later, the two are down in Lavender's basement, watching Outsiders, and munching on muggle snacks, lying under a tent made of bedsheets and pillows! 

Neville is still a bit baffled by it, even after she explains what the tent is.

"It's not really a tent, it's a fort. My dad and I made it together when I was little. We'd play games, watch movies, and a few times I even had friends come over, and we'd have little play parties. When Dad saw how much I loved our fort, he cast charms to preserve it."

"How...?" Neville pauses, unsure of how to phrase his question.

"How come it's still functioning even though he's gone?" Lavender asks softly.

"Yes."

"Well, when my magick started to show, daddy would take me into the fort, and let me release the excesses using little games. I never knew that he somehow directed my magick into the fabric of the fort. Then when he died, I thought—"

Her voice becomes slightly hoarse, and the witch clears her throat.

"S-sorry, I need to get my potion. I'll be right back."

"Lavender..."

"No, it's fine, Neville," she says, her voice huskier as she crawls out the tent, "keep watching the show."

Neville wants to call her back, admit that he likes it when her voice sounds like that. However, he knows it's not something his friend will ever want to hear. After all, the huskiness is a result of Greyback trying to rip her throat out.

"So, I guess you've never done this before." Lavender resumes their conversation an hour into a movie. "What did you do for fun as a child?"

Neville briefly looks away from the moving image of the man on a bike, leading dinosaurs racing swiftly alongside him, to glance at the witch before returning his gaze to the projection on the canopy.

"Hmm, before I turned five, I don't really remember. However, after —once my Gran and tutors weren't around— the house-elves would play hide-and-go-seek with me."

"Ohhh, baby!" Whiskey-brown eyes gaze at him in sympathy and Lavender takes his hand closest to hers.

"It really wasn't that bad. I learned how to be with other children when distant cousins came to visit."

Lavender shuffles closer to him and lays her head on his chest.

"I was so mean to you at school... I'm sorry." The witch peers up at him from her spot against him with a playful pout on her lips. "Forgive me?"

Neville calmly places the hand she leans into against her waist as he pretends to think.

"Hmmm, I don't know. You were absolutely rude and laughed at me often."

Lavender squints her eyes. "What's that tone? What are you thinking?"

"I think," he replied, tightening his arm around her, "that you need to be properly punished before I can forgive you."

"Wh—? Aaah!" 

Lavender's screams echo around her apartment as Neville begins a tickle assault.

"DON'T! Hahaha, stop! Neville, please. I'm sorry!"

Her friend pauses his attack.

"You laughed when I hopped into the Common Room after Draco and his goons cast a leg-locking jinx on me." The soft pads of his fingers found the soft skin of her waist when Lavender laughs at his description.

"NO!" Lavender twists away and tries to crawl out the fort opening. Neville tackles her and Lavender screams at another onslaught of tickles. She tries to get away again, but Neville's body is now all muscle and he's heavy. The witch looks out the open flap of her fort, her hand outstretched.

"Trinity... save me!"

They both stop to watch as the macaw Familiar in her charge looks at Lavender, ruffles her feathers, then returns to her grooming.

The witch and wizard fall over cackling, then Neville drags Lavender back to his chest as they continue with the movie. He leans down to press a kiss on her forehead.

"I forgive you."

Lavender smiles up at him and they snuggle closer, to share the popcorn.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The Abyss is quieter than usual the morning after her day spent in blissful relaxation with Neville. Though happy with her day of rest, the witch has been exhausted since opening. 

Every now and then, her Curse Glamour flashes over her dark features, and Lavender realises that another session with the Abysm is in order. The witch does her time with the magic mirror during her break for lunch; once she is rejuvenated magically and physically, Lavender reopens for the latter half of the day.

Trinity glides down from their upstairs apartment to keep Lavender company for most of the day, allowing few of the customers to pet the colourful feathers of her chest. Then Professor Snape enters the store with little six-year-old Marcus at his side, trying to stride as majestically as his adoptive daddy.

"Aunty L!" Marcus forgets his manly strut and races to hug his favourite aunty after Tanty Jean. Lavender had all her friend's kids call her Aunty L since she hates being called Aunty Lav.

"Hello, darling!" Lavender kneels and hugs the little wizard close.

"I'm staying here with you until Daddy's done shopping," he says excitedly.

"You are? That's so great," Lavender says, grinning up at the Professor, who smirks at her.

"I was going to ask first," he says with a mock frown at his shamelessly grinning son.

"It's fine with me, Professor. I love spending time with Marcus."

"Miss Brown, I am no longer your Professor. In fact, I am not a Professor at all. I've told you many times, call me Severus."

"A Deputy-Headmaster is still a Professor. Besides, I'll call you by your name when you can call me Lavender."

"Understood. Marcus, behave for your aunt while in her place of business. I shouldn't be gone long."

"I'll be good, Daddy. Bye!"

Once Severus is gone, Lavender summons the ice cream from her freezer box, and the two sit at the nook in her store she uses for breaks.

"Aunty L, what do you do?"

Lavender smiles, wiping some ice cream off his face with a napkin.

"I'm a Formatology Mistress or a Formatologist. It means that with magick and some muggle resourcefulness, I help make witches and wizards look gorgeous on the outside, and most of the time, it helps them feel beautiful inside."

After their ice cream, Marcus goes to stare at the Abysm.

"Aunty L, what does this do?" he asks, sitting on the shag carpet at the base of the mirror. 

Lavender grins indulgently at the curious little wizard. Marcus always asks the same questions every time he comes into her store. And as always, she takes him on her lap and narrates the same story.

"Well, once, a very long time ago, when the Earth was still a darling little fledgling-"

"Just like Ashe and Trinity! And me?"

"That's right, hun. Our ancestors, the ancestors of all magical beings and creatures, arrived to make Earth their new home. Then their ship, at their command, burrowed deep into the Earth and created a vast crevasse. The waters of the Earth converged, filling the void and dissolving the ship. Thus allowing the essence of the ancestors former home to permeate, imbue, and transform the Earth to accommodate the ancestors' needs. That water-filled void —just one of many— is known today as the Black Lake at Hogwarts. 

"Not many witches or wizards remember or know that the waters of the Black Lake, and others like it, are an ancient source of magick. Powerful potions can be brewed using those waters; your daddy knows this. Authentic Divination practitioners have near absolute success whenever scrying. All magical plants, herbs, and creatures amplify their true potential when they drink from the lake. 

"So, the mirror at the core of the Abysm, by itself, shows you exactly how you look physically, right now, to yourself and others. When I apply the water from the Black Lake to the mirror —using Charms, Potions, Astrology and Meditation— I create a sort of... portal to a viewer's psyche. With my guidance and a touch of their hand to the Abysm, they can see themselves as they genuinely are as a person. For example, a horrible person will see an ugly brute. No one has ever chosen to use it that way. 

"Otherwise, the viewer can see themselves as who they want to be. For example, the Curse Glamour over me will seemingly fade away, and everyone can see my true appearance. For others, they can visualize themselves how they wish. Then as the magic of the Abysm washes over them, it changes them physically. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to make it permanent for myself; for me, it lasts three months. Although my clients have six months of looking however they fancy."

"H—how come yours don't last as long, Aunty?" Marcus asks softly, yawning.

"Well, my guess is because the Curse Glamour is permanent. When I created the beauty charm version of the Polyjuice, it was only meant to last for an hour. But the witch I trusted, my best friend, either thought she was doing me a favour, or she just hated me — I never dared to ask her why. Anyway, my so-called best friend altered my divination notes after I confided that the charm could be made permanent. But it was never something I wanted, nor would I wish this curse... this Beauty Glamour on anyone else."

Lavender looks down at a sleeping Marcus and winces. Yep, every time, she thinks, lifting him into her arms as she stands.

"At least I'm the best bedtime storyteller ever," she murmurs, placing her nephew on the cot in her tiny office behind the counter.

An hour later, Professor Snape returns to collect a rejuvenated Marcus. Lavender waves them off as the Professor gratefully uses her Floo, holding Marcus in his arms as the green flames whirl them away.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Two days later, on a sweltering Wednesday morning, the witch gets an unexpected visit to her shop by Parvati's mother, Madhuri. Lavender hasn't seen or spoken to the older woman since she ended her friendship with Parvati during the repeat of their seventh year at Hogwarts.

Lavender greets the older witch warmly. She receives a regal nod in return, but Madhuri says nothing as she contemplates a wall of brightly coloured scarves. 

Lavender is not surprised, as the scarves are her best sellers at the shop. She has them weaved and imported by a wonderful magical couple —a husband and wife— from their home in Italy. Professor Sinistra had placed her in contact with them months before the opening of The Abyss.

The woman moves over to the main attraction to the shop. Lavender hears the disdainful sniff before Madhuri approaches the counter holding a Fierro scarf.

From the moment she enters the shop to the moment she exits, Madhuri Patil does not meet Lavender's eyes once, and surprisingly, the Formatology Mistress is fine with this. Happy that she no longer holds a grudge for the woman, she adjusts the empty space left by the sold scarf.

The energy in the room has shifted, so Lavender activates the clay aroma pots she has set in various areas of the shop. Soon, the soothing and cleansing fragrances of frankincense and myrrh carry away the negative vibes left behind by the woman who taught her daughter to be a —possible racist— and a Lycanphobe.

Granted, Parvati is now a grown witch with her own mind, so Lavender places her ire upon the person who hurt her in the first place.

After the early morning browsers have waned, her appointments begin to arrive. One by one, they all pay the Formatologist with pouches full of Galleons, then leave The Abyss with satisfied smiles about their brand new bodies. 

After her last appointment for the day had left, Lavender notices Denise standing at the minor Abysm. Similar to the mirror she gave to Neville, walk-in customers are allowed to use this minor Abysm for general fashion consultation. It's now after lunch, so she decides to close the shop for a break. Denise never moves from the mirror, and Lavender senses that something is wrong.

"Denise?"

The other witch doesn't seem to hear her, and Lavender gently places a hand on the woman's shoulder. Denise startles and turns to her. The Trini witch looks dazed, almost like she doesn't know where she is. 

Lavender has always liked Denise, and her concern increases.

"Neeci, are you alright?"

In a flash, brown eyes focus on her, and Lavender has the sensation of a stranger looking out from those eyes.

"Wuh yuh jus' call meh?"

Alarm bells don't exactly go off because Lavender doesn't know Denise as well as Hermione and Luna. However, the Trini witch usually speaks with a British accent so that her friends don't struggle to understand her.

"Um, I said, Neeci. I hope that's alright. I like to give my friends cute nicknames."

A look of affection, maybe nostalgia, flickers over the other witch's face.

"Nobody call meh dat since I was small. Thanks." Denise touches her arm lightly and leaves. 

Lavender rushes over to her Mirror-Caller about to contact Severus or Hermione, but then she stops. Denise is probably having a bad day, or she and Severus might've had a fight or something. Remembering that they were all hanging out at The Lush on Friday evening, Lavender decides to gauge whether or not to confide in the others then.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Lavender is tidying the shelves and racks for the approach of closing time. Suddenly, two wizards clad in Auror robes barge into her shop, nearly knocking over one of her regular customers. 

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" Lavender hurries to steady the elderly witch, throwing a glare at the men. "Are you alright, Madam Creed?"

"Oh my... yes, thank you, dear." Madam Creed turns to glare at the Aurors who are examining every inch of the Abyss. "Hooligans!"

When the elderly witch shuffles away, Lavender storms back into her shop.

"I asked you two a ques- Don't touch that! You have no right to waltz into my shop, sticking your noses where they don't belong."

One of the Aurors brandishes an official-looking scroll with the official-looking seal and signature of the head of the DMLE.

"According to this warrant, we do."

Lavender grabs the parchment and quickly begins reading. Moments later, she scoffs with loathing.

"Suspected criminal activities, aiding and abetting dark witches and wizards, what rubbish!"

"Oi, Donovan, this looks sketchy," the other Auror calls out, "we should take this in so the Unspeakables can have a look."

Lavender slams the document on the table near the door, enraged at the Auror's suggestion.

"You will not be taking anything from my shop, much less my Abysm; for which I own the patent, might I add."

The Aurors eye each other before abandoning the Abysm to rifle through the shelves and racks around the shop. Lavender stalks behind them, gathering the items they seem to deliberately toss to the floor. Then they push aside one of her free-standing mirrors, shattering it.

"How dare you? Do you know how expensive these are? I can assure you both that you'll never be able to afford even a handkerchief here! Don't think for one moment that I won't report you two for this! Get out of my shop, or I'll sue the Auror department for damages. You won't be able to afford a handkerchief anywhere!"

"Madam, I'm going to ask you one more time not to interfere with our investigation, or I'm going to place you under arrest."

"Do you think I'm stupid? We all know exactly what this is about, and it has nothing to do with criminal activities you know for a fact you'll never find here. I won't let you get-"

"Lavender, are you alright? I only just heard about what's happening."

The agitated witch turns to find Angelina standing in the doorway. Lavender turns back to glare at the Aurors attempting to remove the Black Abysm from the wall.

"These crooks are trying to ruin my life. That's what's happening. Angie...!"

Lavender tries to protest as the other witch takes her by the shoulder, leading her forcibly to the exit.

"No, Lavender!" Angelina hisses under her breath, "You can't afford to pay me back for bail again, not to mention the fees to reclaim your things."

Lavender subsides at the harshly whispered words, although the Curse Glamour flickers over her briefly. Still, the witch maintains a lofty demeanour as they walk past a crowd of jeering onlookers, mostly shopkeepers.

Chapter Text

In the privacy of Angelina's shop, Lavender finally bursts into tears.

"Oh, hun, it's going to be fine. You know that George and I will help you the best we can."

Lavender takes a shuddering breath and shakes her head, slumping onto a bench in the corner of Angelina's toy shop.

"No, you were right," she says shakily, "I can't always depend on you guys to bail me out. Not from Azkaban. Not from trumped-up merchant fees. I just... I don't know how much more of this I can take."

Despair threatens to overwhelm her when Lavender realises that she is close to losing her shop. Not to mention her newfound independence — one that doesn't involve a certain hidden house in the side alleys of Knockturn. The witch shudders as she thinks of what her life had almost turned out to be. 

With her elbows on her knees, Lavender grips her head as she tries to calculate how long it would take her to rebuild. It'll be impossible, she realises, if the Ministry's continued prejudice against Lycanthropes bulldozes its way into her parlour for a third time this year. 

Lavender had once believed that things would be better for her and other Lycanthropes, with Kingsley Shacklebolt being Minister. However, the corruption at the Ministry of Magic is widespread, and there's only so much one man with a few trusted employees can do.

Comforting arms gently wrap around her, pulling her against a strong body, and lavender gasps in surprise when Neville's subtle but sweet, musky fragrance teases her senses.

A wave of embarrassment swamps her; Lavender never wanted her friend to see her this way, so she keeps her face buried against his chest for as long as she dares.

Unfortunately, Neville won't let her linger. Taking the witch by the shoulders, he gently lifts her away, looking down into her eyes. Eyes, she's self-consciously aware of being spiky with tears.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asks.

Lavender accepts the handkerchief he proffers and dabs at her eyes.

"Short answer, I didn't want you to know."

"I've already completely planned out my class schedule for Hogwarts re-opening, so it's safe to say that I can listen to a long story."

Lavender sighs in resignation.

"Neville, you know what most of my neighbours think of me, how they tried everything to keep me from opening The Abyss. Angie and George's connections were the only things keeping them in line. So, unless Professor Snape or perhaps Hermione invents a cure, I'll have partial Lycanthropy for the rest of my life." The witch looks away in shame. "Everyone already thinks that I'm using you since, apparently, those rumours about me at Hogwarts are still circulating. What do you think they're gonna say if I run to you for help every time these ministry crups invade my shop?"

Neville tilts her chin toward him, and Lavender inhales sharply, taken aback at the raw anger blazing from his eyes.

"I don't care what they say, but I know they'll think twice about raiding your shop if they constantly had to deal with me. What would be the point of our friendship if I know you're struggling, but I do nothing about it when it's in my power to help you?"

Hope rises —reluctantly— in her heart at Neville's words; insecurity and paranoia have been her constant companions for years. However, with great effort, Lavender shoves them away; she'll do anything worthwhile for this wizard who's looking at her so tenderly with hints of scolding. Tears of relief and happiness spill over when the witch finally understands that Neville is willing to do the same for her.

"I hope you know that you're my best friend ever," she says, sniffling, "and I love you."

Lavender throws her arms around him, barely hearing Angelina's protesting 'hey', and she giggles.

"Obviously, not more than Angie," she continues, leaning away.

Neville is fighting his own chuckles at Angelina's complaining.

"Of course," he replies.

Angie begins tidying up, and Lavender looks at him and mouths half playfully.

"More than Angie."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

On Friday evening, Neville and Orchid select his attire for the get-together in the next hour. Neville thinks of the progress he's made concerning the severe Ministry raids against his friend that morning.

The Ex-Hit Wizard had stalked into the Ministry, ready to blast his former co-workers, when it dawned on him that there was only one person he needed to speak with. So Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt found himself getting the brunt of Neville's ire.

"There's only so much I can do at one time, Neville," Kingsley sighed, unconsciously echoing Lavender's own thoughts. 

"One by one, we're rounding them up," he continued, "but there are still a few blood purists hidden throughout the ministry. Only this week, we've had multiple reports of muggleborn witches and wizards — who've never been to the magical world — suddenly receiving letters from wizarding schools. All those muggleborns were targeted years ago and prevented from receiving their magical education... the paperwork alone... I haven't heard back yet from any of the other private boarding schools, besides Hogwarts, about whether they're getting an influx of thirty-something-year-old students. 

"As for the rampant Lycanphobia, I thought I had a handle on it, but clearly there's someone in the Regulation and Control department we haven't been able to uncover yet." Kingsley ran a hand down his face, and Neville saw how significantly the man had aged in the last eighteen years. A feat considered unnatural for a wizard, seeing as magicals can live up to two hundred and fifty years; three if they lived a healthy life.

"I thought I would have good men rising up in the Ministry that would take over from me... but three of them left, and Percy is only one man, just like me. There are other good witches and wizards, but most of them are near retirement, and the rest are not as driven. I worry, just thinking of what Weasley may have to deal with if we can't stamp out the rampant bigotry in wizarding Britain. Though, I must give him credit. Percy Weasley will make a fine Minister for Magic someday... once the blood purists/fanatics/Voldemort extremists are found and driven from the Ministry!"

Neville raised his hands in defence of the Minister's —obviously, no longer bottled-up frustration— and tempered his own attitude.

"I'm sorry for what you're going through, Kingsley. I'm sorry that I left so abruptly, but you knew that I was never going to remain an Auror. In fact, I stayed longer than I'd planned since I ended up becoming a Hit Wizard along with Harry. Another fact, Harry went a step further and shifted into Dark Ops, becoming an Unspeakable that operated only in the field. You lot fired him if memory serves."

"Harry was asked to retire because he was going rogue, abusing his authority." Kingsley sighed. "If we hadn't interceded when we did, well, that's classified."

"Harry was having a breakdown because of the separation from his Soulmate."

Kingsley sat up, surprised.

"Soulmate Derangement? That's almost unheard of, and I've only read about it. Wizards tend to shy away from conversations like that. Is that why Harry didn't report this? Soulmate Derangements are always taken into account for rogue wizards employed with the Ministry."

"Harry didn't know what was happening to him, and he kept his downward spiral so contained, not even Severus knew what was going on, and as a Potions Master… he knew the SD warning signs. After all, Severus created potions that help stabilise and reverse the mental degradation that occurs. It was just after Harry and Hermione got married that we all realised what had been happening."

The two wizards sat quietly, pondering the ramifications, then Neville shook the thoughts from his mind.

"Listen, I didn't come here to discuss Harry, if you guys want to rehire him, you'll have to talk to him about it, but just so you know, he's enjoying working with his father. As for myself," Neville sighed, comfortable with the decision he'd made, "I'll agree to part-time, maybe one week, monthly Auror duties. I just ask that you order a cease and desist on the biased raids conducted on The Abyss beauty parlour owned and run by Miss Lavender Vivian Brown. They're insinuating that because she has partial-"

"Done!" Kingsley's relief was evident as he suddenly seemed reenergized. Probably because he had Neville's support again, no matter how minor, and Harry just might return.

"Orchid has prepared Master's bath."

Pulled from his thoughts, Neville thanks the house-elf before entering his private bathroom. 

Later, once he is dressed, the wizard Apparates next to the bricked up barrier to the Leaky Cauldron. Once inside, he sits at the bar to wait for his friends. 

A high-pitched lilting giggle catches his attention. A quick glance into the cracked mirror behind the bar reveals Parvati Weasley, Ginny Weasley, and Hannah Abbot-Goldstein grouped around a corner table.

Neville negligently orders a glass of water from Tom, only looking away from the group of witches when a soft touch on the sleeves of his arm takes his attention.

"How are you, Neville?" Luna asks, taking a seat on the stool next to him, "I... um..."

Neville sees the struggle on his friend's face, and he takes her hand.

"Luna, don't," he says gently, "I know there's something you want to tell me, but you can't."

The women in the corner start giggling again, and Neville sighs. Luna's eyes are brimming with remorse.

"My life has changed a lot these past few years." He smiles when he thinks of his friends. "And I think it's time I took Draco's advice."

Luna sighs, slumping in relief before embracing Neville.

"It will be extremely difficult," she says softly.

"I know."

Just then, the Floo activates, and Harry and Hermione step out.

"Don't tell the others," he murmurs, pulling out of her hold to meet her gaze, "especially Lavender. At least not until the ritual part of it is over."

"Alright."

The four friends greet each other, and Neville notices odd behaviour from Luna, in that she barely acknowledges Harry. Harry's face reveals his devastation, but he also looks away guiltily. Luna, in the meanwhile, gives off an appearance of indifference.

Neville looks to Hermione for an explanation, but she lips 'later', and he nods his agreement. A few more Floo activations later, and everyone but Lavender, Draco, and the major Snapes had arrived.

Draco is already at The Lush preparing for their arrival, and the Snapes were meeting them there. 

George and Angelina slip away for a few moments to say hi to Ginny and her friends. Harry and Hermione are getting drinks. So, Neville tries to get Luna to tell him what was going on with her and Harry.

"Look who skipped through Portals all the way from Uganda, mates."

Neville turns and is surprised to see Dean arrive with Kellah on his arm. Kellah Williamson had been the third member of the Dean and Seamus friendship all those years ago at Hogwarts.

"How's teaching at Uagadou?" he asks, pulling her into a brief hug.

"Amazing," Kellah replies with a smile that lights up her features, "I made tenure."

George and Angelina return, and soon Kellah is being bombarded with questions about African magic, but mainly about the schooling at Uagadou.

After a round of final congratulations from the group, Kellah looks around at everyone.

"Where's Lavender? I've been hearing stories from Dean and wanted to see for myself."

Neville frowns, about to ask what she's talking about, wondering what Dean had to say about his friend, but then Tom hands him a folded piece of parchment with his name written on it.

"It just came out the Floo," is all Tom says before turning back to other customers.

Neville ignores the chatter of the others behind him as he reads the note.

Neville, I got caught up on a project. Go on to The Lush without me. I'll try to make it if I finish up early. Lavender.

Disappointed, Neville turns to the others, slipping the note into his pocket.

"Let's head over to The Lush, guys. It looks like Lavender might not make it. She's catching up on work."

"What?" Kellah asks with a barely delicate snort, "Lavender 'Life's A Party' Brown? Choosing work over hanging out? No way!"

Neville plasters a serene smile on his face.

"Things change, Kellah 'Crush A Lot' Williamson... Am I right?"

"Well, let's go," Dean says, taking Kellah's arm and hustling her away.

Everyone follows Dean's lead, making a big deal of leaving the pub.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The scene at The Lush is no better. It seems as though Severus and Denise are having a spat. Not that anyone unfamiliar would know by looking at them. The two are sitting calmly together, chatting with everyone but each other. In fact, Neville notices the looks of bewilderment Severus sends his wife's way, but Denise refuses to look at him.

As for the minor Snapes, they are earnestly trying to have a whispered conversation with the Malfoys. Yet, instead of engaging them, Draco sneers at Harry with a cutting look, then guides Luna to sit next to Neville. Draco sits next to her with Severus on his other side.

The group is gathered in one of the private lounges that are usually all booked solid for months. Seeing as Draco owns the place, it was nothing for him to secure the most expensive one for their get together. This particular lounge is a loft overlooking the restaurant on one side and a dancefloor on the other.

"I thought you two were getting along now," Kellah says to the two ex-enemy wizards, "or was I wrong, and you two are still holding on to old grudges."

"Only one of us has been holding on to grudges, and it's not me," Draco replies, pulling Luna into his side.

Harry looks away, and he doesn't deny Draco's words.

"Oookay," Kellah murmurs and turns back to Dean.

Draco waves his wand, and suddenly the atmosphere is filled with the sound of loud talking and muggle music from below on the dancefloor side of the loft.

His friends are paired off, talking with each other, so Neville ignores them and turns to observe the dancefloor. The mood in the lounge is uncomfortable, as none of them seems to want to be here anymore. 

Neville regrets not going to Lavender's to keep her company; at least they would have found a way to have fun in her basement.

‘You always make me smile...

... when I'm feeling down…’

Neville finds himself smiling when Lavender's favourite song begins playing. Sometimes when he's at her place, the witch would have it on repeat just to irritate him.

Secretly, Neville likes the song, just not as much as his friend does.

Then, something catches his attention from the corner of his eyes; a sexy brown-skinned witch dancing through the crowd toward one of the entrances to their loft.

Instead of making her way up, the witch stops to look up at him. Her body swaying, she crooks a finger at him.

Neville gets to his feet, leans on the railing and grins, looking down at her.

"Get up here, beautiful," he mouths, as the music is loud.

"You come down, gorgeous," she replies, beckoning him sensually with both hands.

"If you two are done flirting," Angelina yells over the music as she steps next to Neville, "I think Lavender has the right idea. Ladies, let's join her and work up an appetite."

Then Lavender, Angelina, Hermione, Luna, Kellah, and Denise are grouped together dancing. Their wizards watch over them from the loft.

"I'm surprised Denise joined them," Draco says to Severus, "I thought she decided to cast off her 'Party Animal' persona, as she calls it."

Severus does not reply, and his eyes never leave the swaying body of his wife. Draco shrugs it off good-naturedly as his godfather usually has a bubble charm of Quiet around himself and Denise at these things. 

Neville also does not take his gaze from Lavender, and he's barely listening to the men beside him. Lavender is wearing slim, tight-fitting black leather pants, a tank top, and a pink leather jacket that she is in the process of removing.

Neville notices the interest from some of the men toward his friend dancing amidst the group of witches. When Lavender glances up at him again, he knows his features are grim as he signals once again for her to come up to the loft.

Lavender arches a brow with a little bit of attitude at his behaviour. Really, he's just trying to prevent a fight between wizards wanting to be her dance partner for the evening. Like that night in Trinidad, that’s never to be mentioned again. Thankfully, soon all the witches are up in the lounge, and the ambience has lightened significantly.

Severus and Denise are smiling and talking to each other, and Harry and Draco were chatting amicably along with George. 

Lavender is chatting with Kellah, Dean, Angelina and Hermione, and Neville finally gets Luna to tell him about Harry and Draco's disagreement.

"You... can't be serious," he says in amazement.

"It's always been that way, but it never bothered me because Harry didn't know he was doing it, even after all these years. I'm not sure how Draco found out."

As Luna says this, her eyes glance quickly to and from Severus and Denise's corner. Neville notices, and his respect —that ebbs and flows— for the no-nonsense Trinidadian witch inches up a few notches. 

Sometimes, Denise seemed to care about no one but Severus —and that's just one of her oddities. However, when it's necessary, she'll calmly call out any of her friends on their bullshit, even if it's like a dagger to the heart. 

To Neville, it seems that ever since Denise gave up her Party Animal ways, a light in the witch has also gone out, though he'd never say that to anyone. Or her.

Now, back to Harry being a wet dildo hurled quickly and shamefully into a drawer.

"Why have I never noticed that?" Neville asks, annoyed with himself. "I'm sorry, Luna, if I'd known, you know I'd have set him right long ago."

"You have nothing to apologise for, Neville. The reason no one ever saw is that once we're all together, he's fine because there's a group. But, when it's just Harry and me, he gets uncomfortable." For the first time in a long time, Neville sees the hurt in her eyes. "It never bothered me until Draco made me tell him about it. There'd been a time when I thought Harry was my only friend, but then... well, now you know, I realised that he's ashamed to be seen with me."

Draco, feeling his soulmate in distress, leaves the others and takes Luna to a quiet corner of the room. 

Deep in his thoughts about a few cruel pranks he can pull on his brother —maybe he'll get George to give him some pointers— Neville startles when Lavender sits on his lap. 

A second later, the wizard relaxes into his seat and takes the drink she brought over from the bar. Then Neville drapes his free arm on her thigh, and they drink in companionable silence.

Kellah, being new to the group, asks the usual.

"Are you two...?"

"We're just friends," they both say at the same time. Only now, out of the blue, Neville feels a twinge of... something.

"Riiight... anyway..."

After releasing yet another loaded question, Kellah once again retreats to chat with the others. Lavender leans her head on Neville's shoulder to murmur into his ear.

"Did you know she had a huge crush on Seamus Finnegan for years?"

"I might have heard about that," he replies, smirking.

"What about the rumours that they use to get each other off in that abandoned girls' toilet? The one that was on the— I think it was the second-floor corridor."

Neville chuckles as Lavender continues to gossip about the rest of their friends in his ear, loving the slight huskiness that results when she speaks too loudly or for too long.

The witch moves slightly, possibly to go to the ladies room to take a dose of her potion, but Neville keeps a tight hold of her, feigning cluelessness to her plight.

"Does it bother you when everyone asks if we're dating?" he asks, gauging her reaction in the dimness of the lounge. Watching her nibble on her lower lip before answering.

"Not for my sake, I don't, but it bothers me when they scorn you for choosing to be friends with someone like me."

"I don't care what anyone thinks about us, seeing as it's none of their business anyway."

Lavender smiles sweetly at him, tucking non-existent stray hairs behind his ear before kissing his nose.

"Well, then I hope it doesn't bother you that Ginny Weasley has been glaring at us since I sat on your lap."

Chapter Text

"Holy fuck, Dean, but I think I'm crushin' on the Laville," Kellah says, gaping at the unconcerned besties, "seriously, I'm getting turned on just looking at them."

"What?" Dean asks, choking on his drink as he laughs at Kellah's mugglism.

"I don't know," she replies with a look of wistfulness on her face, "they're just... right."

Dean studies the two just friends for a bit.

"Yeah, I see what you mean. Hmm, twenty galleons say they're soulmates."

Next to him, Kellah's hand shoots out in front of him, palm up.

"I'll take my payment now," she says with a taunting look in her eyes, "since they're not soulmates."

"How do you know?" Dean asks, his brow furrowing with his confusion, "I didn't think Neville would confide in anyone but a Sage about something so personal. Though, I can see Lavender bragging about it while at Hogwarts."

Kellah looks away and says airily, "Not my story to tell. Now, pay up."

"Hang on, I need proof!"

Kellah looks out into the crowded dance floor and takes a sip of her drink.

"Something tells me that everyone's gonna see two soulmates hooking up tonight, and it won't be The Laville." Taking her order of bacon, cheese 'n chips from the house-elf serving the group for the night, Kellah savours a mouthful before continuing. "Can't believe I'm saying this, but I feel sorry for her."

"I wouldn't underestimate Lavender, Kell. She's a good witch under all that flirting and fun. One day a good wizard will see that."

"Oh my, I'm sensing a juicy story, Dean Thomas," Kellah coos, offering her old friend a forkful of cheesy bacon chips, "feel like sharing?"

Dean accepts her offer, then takes his sweet time chewing.

"Not one I'm gonna tell," he says finally, then taking a sip of Firewhiskey, Dean arches a brow at her pouting, "so, have you found him yet?"

Kellah eyes widen before she settles back into her seat.

"Hint taken... no soulmate talk."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"Were you two dating? At school, I mean?" Lavender asks, then she glimpses the discomfort on Neville's face. 

The wizard tightens his grip when she moves to get off of his lap, and Lavender sighs in frustration. Usually, when Neville's interested in a witch, Lavender would stop her playful flirting so he could make his move. Now, her friend isn't saying much, and the witch has no idea what to do.

"No," he replies quietly, staring blankly ahead of him, "but I had a huge crush on her at school, and when I approached her, she made fun of me and laughed at my advances."

Lavender looks down at her hand on Neville's chest as shame resurges, even though Neville had recently forgiven her. At Hogwarts, she had been one of the many students who were mean to him on multiple occasions.

Then again, Lavender hadn't been actively trying to break his heart or ground it beneath her heel. Rage builds as she thinks back and remembers how subtly cruel Ginny Weasley had been at school.

That deceitful witch had been really good at hiding it, but Lavender had grown up with a bitch just like Ginny long before she got to Hogwarts. The dislike between them had been instant, and Lavender made sure the redhead knew that she saw Ginny for who she was, no matter the pretty face she hid behind.

Lavender's eyes roam over the dance floor to find the other witch in the crowd, only to see her grinding all over some wizard. Unknowingly, Lavender's fingers close around the fabric of Neville's shirt, gripping the open lapel tightly. 

Never will she allow that creature near Neville again. Her friend deserves better than a witch like that getting her claws into him.

Unless... no... he'd have told me... No, he wouldn't! Would he tell her if she asked?

"Are you alright?" Neville asks.

Lavender nods silently, stifling the burning need to know, but god, she doesn't want to know either. Suddenly, one of her favourite songs begins playing, and she launches herself off of Neville and pulls Dean up for a dance.

In fact, the witches all mob Dean, Draco and George, the most versatile dancers of the wizards. Neville, Severus and Harry basically become walls that the ladies dance all over every now and again.

Later, Kellah activates her favourite muggle music —through a Baccanalist courtesy of Denise— after Draco raises Wards around the lounge, cutting off the uproar from the crowd below.

"Hope you guys don't mind," Kellah says as they all settle down into their seats again to finish off their meal. Lavender notices Neville leaving the lounge, but she ignores it as an apparition of Micheal Jackson dressed all in black appears on a phantom stage.

The lilting, seductive tones of a bass guitar begins playing, blue lightning flickers over the image, and as the singing begins, a sense of foreboding washes over Lavender. The lyrics of the song catches her attention, and her gaze slides over the crowd below. 

And Lavender sees them.

‘She always takes it with a heart of stone

'Cause all she does is throw it back to me

I've spent a lifetime looking for someone…’

Neville and Ginny dance slowly, sensually together; they move in time to the music playing in the loft, but the wild revelry of the crowd tells a different story down there.

‘You always knew just how to make me cry

And never did I ask you questions why

It seems you get your kicks from hurting me… ’

Ginny's hands are playing with the hair at the back of Neville's neck, and he's looking at her like she's the only and most important thing in the world.

Then he's kissing her.

Something rips from her chest, and Lavender sucks in a breath. Quickly, she slips away from the group and into the ladies room.

‘You and your friends were laughing at me in town

But it's okay, and it's okay.

You won't be laughing, girl, when I'm not around.

I'll be okay. And I'd, I'd never find... better. 

A peace of mind? No!’

Facing the mirror, leaning over the sink, Lavender takes several deep breaths trying to slow her racing heart. Blonde hair, pale skin and blue eyes fight to break the spell of her Abysm, and Lavender tries to think of anything that could force the transformation away. The others can't see her like this... just, not now!

"It's fine," she whispers, "everything's fine. Neville's my friend... he's just a friend."

"And yet..."

Lavender gasps, looking up into the mirror to find Kellah standing in the open doorway of one of the stalls.

"... no matter how many times we tell ourselves that, it never helps, does it?"

Kellah moves to the sink and washes her hands. Lavender says nothing, unwilling to verify the other witch's unspoken guess.

"Romantic soulmates aren't the only ones who don't have a choice when it comes to love." Kellahs gaze is far away as she stares into the muggle mirror, "sometimes, Platonic mates like us —well, like me anyway— can't help who we fall in love with."

By the time Kellah exits the toilet, Lavender has a firm hold of her emotions once more.

Neville has a soulmate he desires. As his friend, Lavender will respect his choices. Even help, if it means his continued happiness. If anyone deserves a Happily Ever After, it's Neville Longbottom.

Unfortunately for Lavender, she is still very rattled by her prior reaction. She forces herself to have fun, even as the other witches gauge her every move for the rest of the evening. Either they witnessed her momentary lapse before going to the ladies room, or Kellah blabbed.

To Lavender's surprise, Angelina and Hermione actually seem to disapprove of her... minor thing she may have for Neville. She is slightly shaken that the two witches she's closest to would react in such a manner. In contrast, Denise, Luna and Kellah are supportive, giving her looks or words of encouragement in passing.  

Lavender feels like she's stepped into an alternate reality after leaving the ladies' room. She almost wants to run back there then step out again just to see what happens.

When an appropriate amount of time has passed, Lavender takes the opportunity to leave, wishing everyone a good evening.

As she reaches the base of the stairs to the lounge, Dean catches up to her. Holding onto her hand, he leans close to speak into her ear.

"Do you want to get a nightcap with me?"

Lavender runs a hand over his chest, enjoying the silky smoothness of the shirt and sighs. Dean is gorgeous. Tall, sinewy, and dark with the sexual charisma of a Siren Male. Secretly, she believes that his absentee father may be one of these flighty creatures; nevertheless, Lavender would never say such a thing to the wizard.

"Dean, hun, would you feel comfortable claiming your soulmate if you knew she accepted an offer like this from another man?"

Lavender keeps her tone light and teasing. Yet, there is a slightly condemning note to her voice as she leans into him, talking over the pounding music.

"Sorry, I just thought we could comfort each other. I noticed..." Dean slowly leans away, looking ashamed. Lavender cups his cheek and pulls his head down to her, giving him a light peck on his lips.

"Maybe I'll take you up on that offer another night? I left my project at a vital stage, and I'm longing to get back to it."

Dean smiles, relief all over his face that Lavender isn't too angry at him. Softly, he kisses her, lingering a few seconds longer than her slight peck. They are both smiling and a little breathless when he leans away.

"No strings," he says, stroking her cheek as he repeats his mantra from their first date.

"No strings." Lavender agrees with a sigh, somewhat annoyed at being, well, not quite turned on, but... things are flickering when she walks away.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

‘...I don't wanna hear it. Give in to the fire.

Talk to me, woman. Quench my desire.

I'd like a lady. Talk to me, baby.

Give in to me.

Give in to the fire…’

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

He leaves the loft while everyone else is dancing. Severus watches him go with concern in his eyes, and Neville gives him a reassuring smile.

Ginny has been looking at him all evening. In fact, she probably followed him here from The Leaky Cauldron, so he decides to engage her one last time.

Her friends slip away at his approach, but Ginny remains leaning against the wall, her cold glare taking nothing away from her pale beauty.

“Dance with me,” he murmurs into her ear.

Over twenty-two years ago, Neville had become aware of his soulmate in the most alarming way. Especially for a boy who was shy and awkward. Also mentally and emotionally abused from a young age.

When Neville got to Hogwarts at eleven, all the other eleven-year-olds —he knows that's not the case now— knew their soulmates. Whereas he had no clue about his own.

The following year, Neville started getting weird... sensations that made him feel like a freak. Thus, his fear of everyone finding out made him even more anxious than usual. 

In Potions class, Neville had made so many mistakes because he was warned by his gran before leaving for Hogwarts that first year. Augusta's eyes had blazed a stern warning —wearing that absurd bird hat and clutching her red handbag.

'Snape is a wizard you would do well to keep a distance from. Never look into his eyes! He's well-known to have the ability to read your thoughts through them. Never mind that Dumbledore trusts him; darkness is a shroud around that man. Heed my words, Grandson, what happens in the Longbottom family, remains in the Longbottom family.'

It took Neville until his third year at Hogwarts to understand what he had been feeling, and the boy withdrew even more into himself. Some of the other boys used to talk about their soulmate marks, those of words or images they had on their bodies. Simple, easy... romantic. Poor Neville had to lie, claiming that he never got a mark or anything, making himself an object of ridicule to the more cruel students in their house. 

There had been one moment when the young wizard had resorted to self-harm just to refocus his mind on any other sensation. Unfortunately, his intense sexual desire for Ginevra Weasley only increased after being her date for the Yule Ball. The boys used to say that their soulmates usually had similar marks or feelings. So, it was plain for young Neville to see that his soulmate was not feeling the same about him.

It took the boy wizard nearly his entire tuition at Hogwarts to gain complete control of himself whenever Ginny was near. 

Neville pulls away from their dance, only just realising that he’d kissed her, and Ginny hadn’t denied him.

Now, after raising a Quietening charm around them —thanks to Draco giving them prior permission— Neville barricades his soulmate against the wall with his arms as he murmurs against her ear.

"If looks could kill, Lavender and I'd be dead."

"You're not allowed to be this close to me, Neville," Ginny replies, turning her head to brush her cheek against his.

"You weren’t complaining when I kissed you just now. We're not fifth and sixth-years at Hogwarts anymore, Gin. Minerva's my co-worker and isn't allowed to give me orders concerning my personal affairs. Also, my friends are off-limits; therefore, you can't fuck around with them to push me away. So, what do you want, Gin? Because you've made it very clear that you'd rather be with anyone but me."

Ginny's gaze softens, and she seems hesitant to reply as she nibbles on her lower lip.

"I know I've hurt you over the years, and I'm sorry for that, but I wasn't ready to be anyone's soulmate."

Neville chuckles humorlessly.

"I think Harry and Hermione might have something different to say about that, and I know for a fact that they won't be lying."

"I was young, Neville. I wanted to experience life."

"I was tortured for you. I bled for you... screamed for you. Then at the end of the worst year of our lives, you ran into the arms of my brother."

Ginny traces her palms up his chest, the side of his neck and cups his face.

"Don't you want me anymore, Neville? I'm ready."

The witch leans into the wizard, pressing soft curves against him, and Neville nearly loses it. Caging his rising libido, he moves to pull away. Then suddenly, Ginny's lips are on his, her hands in his hair, her body brushing against his hardening bulge.

His senses overload at the erotic touch of his Soulmate. Neville once again feels the bond searching for completion, and it's a struggle for him to pull out of her loose hold. His breathing is harsh as he steadies his forehead against hers, her flowery fragrance teasing him relentlessly, reminiscent of his favourite Greenhouse at the Manor.

"You want to be with me?" he asks softly.

Ginny pulls back, looks up at him from below her lashes, and nods.

"So if I asked you to marry me, you'd want that?"

"Yes, Nev, I want you, marriage. Everything."

Neville can't believe his ears. He can't believe how his luck has finally come around, though, later than anticipated since Gran had wanted him settled immediately after Hogwarts.

"If you want proof, I'll gladly give it. Let me come home with you tonight."

"Do you know what you're asking me, Gin?"

"I do. Let me ease you, Nev, the way I should have long ago."

Neville doesn't understand his sudden hesitation. He's been longing for this witch for nearly twenty-five years, and now she's offering herself, ready to complete their bond and all he could think of... is what his friends will think.

None of them likes his Soulmate. Lavender and Kellah outright despise her. 

Lavender hates her because she says Ginny spread rumours about her at school, and Kellah hates her because of how Ginny used Dean. Not only to make Harry jealous but to pit Dean and Seamus against each other. Apparently, Seamus hated Ginny because she'd had a nasty habit of fat-shaming Kellah, especially in front of boys his friend liked.

"Nevermind that he and I grew up together, and he's made fun of my weight multiple times," Kellah once said about Seamus.

Bringing his mind into focus, he sees that Ginny has a slight furrow between her brow, and Neville smoothes it away with a graze of his thumb. His finger jerks away from the electrifying friction of the action, then she distracts him by stroking her hand against his crotch.

"Nev, I'm your Soulmate. Please take me with you, show me that you still want me."

And he does.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

More than an hour later, Neville pulls her naked body against him, but Ginny pulls away from him with a sound of disgust.

"Your bond is satisfied, so tonight should be more than enough for you until we're married."

Neville freezes at the loathing and censure that coats her tongue, and his face heats in hurt and embarrassment. Ginny hops from the bed and makes a beeline for the bathroom.

As the fog begins to clear from his mind, Neville's heart pounds painfully for a different reason compared to ten minutes earlier.

Ginny steps out of the bathroom, swishing her wand around herself, and Neville gets a hint of a different fragrance from the one she wore at The Lush. The red-haired witch is neatly dressed once more and looks completely untouched.

"Why did you want to come here, Ginny? Why have you changed your mind about us?" Something he clearly should have asked multiple times before taking her to his bed and consummating the Soulmate bond.

The witch flips her hair over her shoulder and begins to pull on her heels before answering him.

"I just thought we could have a night of fun sex, but you obviously need practice — which is unbelievable considering your situation."

"You mean the situation where I was saving myself for my Soulmate?"

"Whatever... anyway, I also needed to remind that werewolf bitch that, just like at Hogwarts, she can't have any wizard she wants."

Neville is starting to have a sense of the lies Ginny spread about Lavender, and he gets calmly to his feet as his soulmate continues speaking.

Deep inside, something beastly wants freedom, wants to claw its way to the surface. However, Neville has had years of containing his volatile tendencies, and he easily shrugs away the feeling.

"As for why I changed my mind," Ginny says, unaware of the hole she's digging for herself, "well, your grandmother can be very persuasive. I would never have bothered otherwise, seeing as I can have any wizard I want. You're lucky she caught me at a... charitable moment."

Rage, hate, betrayal and shame are warring inside. Neville contents himself by imagining he claws her cold, beating heart out of her chest with his bare hands.

"You're my soulmate... but I'm not yours, am I?" Neville says in realisation.

"Not since I was a little girl and realised that I was going to marry The-Boy-Who-Lived. Nature stepped in when I was about six, and my bond to —well, I guess you — broke then faded to nothing." Ginny shrugs carelessly. "I guess I fainted since mum took me to St Mungo's, and the Healers told her what happened. Mum said I barely even felt it, she said I had a fever for a day or so, but that was it. It doesn't matter anymore. I have you now."

The witch sways saucily toward him and places a hand on his bare chest. Neville gently takes her hand from his body, his grip tightening with every word he utters next.

"I really hope you haven't spent everything Gran paid you, Ginny, because that's all you'll ever get from me after tonight."

Neville releases her from his grip, and she stumbles after continuous struggles to pull away.

"Now, you're going to get out of my house, and you're not welcome here anymore. Orchid! Take her away from here. I don't care where."

"Yes, Master."

"Don't you da—" 

Ginny's tirade is cut off as Orchid snaps her fingers, and the both of them vanish from the wizard's sight. There is no one to witness his breakdown as Neville sinks to his knees beside his bed.

Chapter Text

Lavender storms up the long winding path to Longbottom Manor. 

It's getting dark, and she's supposed to meet Dean in the next four hours for their date. 

However, she needs to see Neville in person and ask him how he would do something so damaging, mentally and physically, to himself.

The witch pauses, then taps her wand on the heel of both shoes to make them sturdier and more comfortable, before continuing her long trek up to the house.

Earlier that day, Hermione had visited her. The witch said that Harry told her that Neville had broken his bond with his Soulmate and that nobody has seen him in three days. 

Lavender can't believe that she's been holed up in her apartment and shop, licking her wounds for so long! 

After learning from Angelina that Neville had left The Lush with Ginny,  Lavender hadn't been able to face him. She sent out her usual 'Working On Project, Do Not Disturb' notes to Angie and Neville, then locked herself in her basement.

"Why would Neville do such a thing?" she asked Hermione in horror. Briefly forgetting that Neville is most likely mated to her mortal enemy.

A Sage once told her that breaking a bond —for most witches and wizards— is as painful as losing a limb along with a cherished loved one. Even if you've never met your soulmate.

"Harry said that Neville always knew who his Soulmate was and that the only thing Neville ever told him about her... is that she's a loose, self-centred bitch. He didn't exactly say bitch, but it was implied."

Hermione glanced pointedly at Lavender, and the room was quiet but for the sound of rippling water from the still, Black Abysm.

"Well," Lavender sniffed, flicking her mid-length wavy hair over her shoulder, "it's refreshing to know that you're still Gryfinndor's so-called Princess, Hermione. I was wondering when she'd show up again."

Hermione shrugged feebly.

"I didn't mean-"

"Yes, you did, but that's fine because I don't care what you think." Lavender folded her arms, fighting back the tears that threatened to appear. "I care what Neville thinks, and he's never given me any indication that I'm his Soulmate. In fact, I’m surprised that after our night at The Lush, you of all people haven’t guessed who his Soulmate is. It was obvious."

"You said it yourself, Lavender, that maybe he... your Soulmate wouldn't reveal himself to you because of-"

Lavender scoffed, glaring at the other witch through furious tears.

"How dare you? Neville and I are friends, and I know that he would never do that to me."

No, this wasn't the time to doubt their friendship. Neville accepted her, even with her partial Lycanthropy. He brainstormed with her when she was stuck on her Divination project, letting her peruse his library at Longbottom Manor for fresh ideas. They have fun even —or more accurately, especially— when they hang out without their mutual friends. The witch would even go so far as to say he was her best friend even more than Angie.

"We're best friends."

Her voice broke as she thought of Neville's usual fond, but hesitant looks at her. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach when Lavender remembered the heated glance he’d sent her way when he thought she wasn't looking during their trip to the botanical garden. She had wished… but she knew better than to hope.  

"He, he wouldn't make me —” Lavender stared off into the distance.

We're friends, and that’s all we’ll ever be. Neville’s voice echoed in her mind.

He says that a lot about us, she thinks.

Did Neville choose Ginny that night at The Lush, and break his bond with me? After all, it's impossible for me to know who my Soulmate is unless they tell me.

Hermione's assumption was possible. Looking around in a daze, Lavender moved to sit on the chaise lounge, her tone as she spoke was hollow. "Thanks for stopping by, Hermione. As always, it was a delight."

Lavender didn't look at the witch and just waited for the sound of her exit. Instead, Hermione sat next to her.

"I’m sorry for my hastiness, Lavender. I should’ve known better. I should know better by now." Hermione placed a hand on her arm, but Lavender was too overwhelmed to push the witch away. "You're in love with Neville."

Lavender scoffed and angrily shook her head.

"You don't know what you're talking about. Besides, it doesn't matter what I feel. Isn't that obvious by now?"

After Hermione had left, Lavender had closed up her store and cancelled her appointments with her more influential clients.

The witch decided to prepare early for her date with Dean, but she would visit Neville first.

In her apartment, she'd taken a shower, and scrubbed every inch of her body. Then she stood in front of her personal Abysm, divining the perfect dress that would knock the socks off of... her date. 

The short, spaghetti strap, tight-fitting dress with the sweetheart neckline was a soft rose-pink hue that matched a lip gloss she usually wore. 

After dressing, putting on her makeup and the strappy heels charmed to match her dress, she stood in front of a regular, talkative magic mirror. Her golden-brown skin glowed softly in the light of the orbs hovering around her room.

Every now and then the mirror would give her advice while Lavender changed her hair from its unnatural mid-length pressed strands, into her naturally long, kinky-curly tresses that ended at the middle of her back. She'd recently cut her hair and knew that Neville had been disappointed. His exaggerated 'No!' as he clutched his chest had been a tiny hint. 

Nevertheless, her hairstyle had nothing to do with Neville, she loved her hair and the million and one ways she can change it thanks to her witchiness. If she's going to show that wizard what he's going to miss, then she needs to be at her best, through his eyes.

"Okay, fine! It's for Neville, but he doesn't need to know that," she says furiously to her reflection; the mirror just hummed at her disbelievingly.

Lavender had tried Mirror-Calling him and using the Floo. But Neville hadn't answered, and his fireplace wasn't allowing her to go through. Resorting to a Floo-Call, she'd yelled that she was Apparating to his place and to expect her.

Now as she nears the door to the manor, Lavender starts wondering if she's being irrational. She raises her hand to knock and stops, thinking about what she's planning to do.

Is she really about to barge into her friend's home, and accuse him of breaking his bond to her? When in all likelihood —in fact, the answer is leaning heavily to the negative— she isn't even his soulmate? When she witnessed him kissing Ginny Weasley, the witch Neville knows Lavender hates? There is only one reason Neville would kiss that witch despite Lavender's loathing for her.

Do I really want to risk our friendship over a maybe? How the hell did I let Hermione convince me of something so stupid?

She lowers her hand from the door, nibbling at her lower lip. Neville had broken a Soulmate bond, and now he’s experiencing the consequences. And all Lavender's done so far is to speculate about her position in the wizard's life; she'd called, harassing him when he clearly wanted to be alone. And here she is again, about to bombard her friend with her own selfish insecurities because...

The witch backs away from the door as she finally admits to herself why Neville's bond-breaking is affecting her.

I — I’m in love with him. I’m in love with Neville Longbottom… who’ll probably never love me back.

Lavender turns and flees, back toward the Apparation Point.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Neville stands unmoving beneath the spray of the shower. He's already brushed his teeth and scrubbed the last few days’ build-ups of muck, dried food, and alcohol stains from his body. 

Now all he wants to do is curl up in the middle of his bed and sleep. But Lavender has threatened that she's on her way over. 

The wizard knows it would take a while for her to walk to the manor from the Apparation Point, so he has time to linger, in hopes that the shower would revive him.

Usually, Neville would never make her walk through the tunnel of trees on either side of the road to the house. However, he couldn't bring himself to be a gentleman, not until this mourning period fades to nothing.

The wizard hasn't felt this level of devastation in years, not since his fourth year at Hogwarts. Back then he thought he'd had it all, Neville had believed he'd wooed his Soulmate, but she had never wanted him. He had been her last choice, her backup plan.

For the rest of his time at Hogwarts, he'd tried to win her affections, even when she began dating his friends.

Then, after the war was over, he'd had an epiphany, and he'd visited a Sage. He’d found out that his Soulmate would never love or want him back. Still, he'd tried — he tried so many ways to make her see him.

Neville might be brave, and according to others, a heroic Gryffindor, but he wasn't the right brave, heroic Gryffindor she'd wanted.

So when she chose Harry Potter over him, Neville had been heartbroken, but he never blamed his friend. No one had known that Ginevra Weasley was his Soulmate; just him and Ginny.

Oh, how she'd laughed at his confession, and his courtship proposal.

Now her name has finally been scrubbed from his soul. And Merlin, does it hurt!

Luna says it might take a few days for the pain to fade completely, but he hadn't realised that it would be like ripping out his heart.

The Wards alert him to someone with prior consent crossing through from the Apparition Point, and he recognises Lavender's magical signature. Neville turns off the water and strolls into the master bedroom. 

Standing in front of the minor Abysm, he tries to find appropriate clothing for Lavender's visit, but it seems to only pick up on his need for comfort and sleep.

Lavender should be close by now, so Neville quickly pulls on the clothes from his closet that the still, black water has revealed to him; which is possibly a stupid idea.

He's towelling the moisture from his hair when he senses his friend at the door. But there's no knock.

Hurrying down the stairs, he thought he'd find her already inside, but there's no one. Sending a spell at the door to see through to the other side, Neville slows, nearing the entrance.

Lavender is there with her hand raised to knock but seems frozen. He's about to pull the door open to see if the Wards had trapped her, but then the witch begins to back away, her eyes widening before she turns and runs.

Surprised and confused by her actions, Neville is stock-still for a moment before throwing open the door.

"Lavender! Lavender, wait!"

The witch disappears, with hurried mincing steps, on the deadliest looking high-heeled shoes he’s ever seen, into the tunnel of trees without looking back.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Lavender hears him calling for her, but she just keeps running. However, her stiletto heels are making it difficult for her to get away faster. So the witch stalls into a fast walking pace.

She is definitely not what Neville needs right now. With her messed up emotions, her weird Lycanthropic symptoms that she's never shared with anyone. Only Neville knows, and he's been around her during those times with no effect. That had been a bonus at the time, but now, without his bond...

From now on, whenever she goes into heat, Neville is going to be affected like other men. Ugh, that word always makes her feel dirty, and Hermione calling her a bitch is nothing she hasn't heard before, or since leaving school. 

That self-righteous witch has been downgraded as a friend, though. Hermione's reminder of Lavender being called a bitch in heat after her disease was made public has done that bushy-haired woman no favours.

Then, Lavender shudders at the traitorous thoughts that have been at the back of her mind since she and Neville became friends. He deserves better than some loose, werewolf bitch who's dry-humped one of his friends, and only thinks about physical looks.

Though in all fairness, thinking about physical beauty is the cornerstone of her career.

She can be shallow and is not as smart as her other friends, though Lavender knows that having good grades and gaining several NEWTs has never been her goal.

Why do people think it's immoral to love makeup and wear fashionable dresses? Two of her favourite things to do, even now when she no longer hates herself... as much.

One of the fun parts of her friendship with Neville is when he takes her beauty advice; which isn't much because that wizard doesn't need much work. Since they met, Neville's been slowly improving his appearance. 

Lavender has always known that he's been doing it for his Soulmate.

However, the thing that strikes her the most —bringing tears of guilt to her eyes— is that at one point, at the beginning of their friendship, Lavender had thought that being friends with someone like Neville would make her look good.

Neville is a sophisticated, brave, compassionate and trustworthy wizard. And she had used his kindness and companionship; hoping it would make her feel important and appear worthy in the eyes of the wizarding world despite her disease.

Lavender is near the Apparation Point —huffing lightly, with just a bit of exhaustion— when someone Apparates in front of her well before the designated spot. She jerks to a stop, knowing who it is.

Quickly throwing up a Glamour to hide her tears, the witch is defenceless when the tall figure of Neville turns to face her.

The wizard’s hair looks wet, and hastily slicked back with his fingers; he is shirtless and barefoot, wearing black pyjama bottoms and an open cashmere robe over his broad shoulders.

Oh, sweet Merlin in Avalon.

Lavender's gaze roams back up to the muscled, heaving chest; her long, manicured nails ache to gently claw their way down that bare chest dusted with neatly laid hair, and… 

Realising that she's ogling her best friend, the witch tears her gaze away and hastily looks down at the ground.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Neville had stepped back into the house as the witch disappeared into the trees. Lavender probably just doesn't want to deal with his instability. Why would anyone?

Since they met, he's been trying to get Lavender to create a permanent Glamour for him. He thought if he looked more like Harry that Ginny would want him. His friendship with Lavender had started as a lie. But once they became closer, Neville began to feel happier, freer and more confident around women than ever.

Once, he and Ginny had been perfect for each other, and they would have worked as a couple. But too many years have passed with them apart, and they're too different. It had been his greatest pleasure to inform her of his decision to break his bond to her after what she did, and tried to do to him.

Ginny's lack of concern or care in her reply had been a dead giveaway of how she really felt about him. For years she'd treated him like he wasn't enough of a man, and he'd always felt the need to prove himself. 

The first step he'd made to break from Ginny's unfavourable behaviour was to retire as an Auror, despite her taunts of him being a coward. And that was a year or more before he'd met Lavender again in Trinidad. Then Neville had to go and ruin his streak and probably his friendship by consummating the bond with Ginny.

Being with his newest friend is always pleasant, more enjoyable, and there’s no need for him to prove anything to her. That being said, Lavender doesn’t deserve him using their friendship to feel more like a man. Especially now, when her affectionate comforting ways might cause him to act selfishly again.

Lavender did look scared at the door though, he thinks to himself. Maybe she needs help.

Conflicted, Neville does the only thing that feels right when it comes to their friendship. He Apparates in her path before she could get to the Apparation point.

He turns to face her in the dim light of the sunset and is unable to tear his gaze away.

Lavender is stunning in her tiny, pink muggle dress. The fabric hugs her curves in ways that Gran would disapprove of, but Neville doesn't care. He's pleasantly surprised by the length of her hair; long and curly once again, swept to one side and falling in thick, curly waves over her breast.

The petite witch looks down at the ground in discomfort, and the wizard is embarrassed by his atrocious manners; leering at his friend like those lewd pieces of shit he usually wants to punch in the face whenever the two of them went out with their group of friends.

Something catches his attention, and he can tell that Lavender has a Glamour over her face. Concerned that his previous thought that she might be in trouble had been right, Neville moves closer and cups her chin. 

Tipping her head up to see her face, he casts a silent, wandless Finite Incantatem, and is immediately upset by the tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Lavender, what's happened?"

Her gaze, as she looks up at him, is full of guilt, and a sob escapes her. Then she inches away from him to swipe at her tears.

"I'm so sorry, Neville. You're a wonderful friend. And I'm such a selfish mess. Here you are, hurting, and I kept trying to make it all about myself. You're one of my best friends, Neville, and I promise that won't ever change. When you need me, I'll be here for you. I know you want to be alone right now, so I'll go until you're ready for company."

Then her arms are around his waist, and her face is pressed against his chest.

"I'm sorry for the pain you're going through, sweetie, and I hope you feel better soon," she murmurs, the steps away, but Neville pulls her back against him.

The bond-breaking still has a hold on him. The wizard suddenly doesn't want to be alone anymore. Lavender looks up at him, wide-eyed and confused.

"I need a friend... I need you," he says, despair coming over him again.

With a shaky but genuine smile, Lavender nods. Neville pulls her closer, and when her head is on his chest once more, he Disapparates with her.

Chapter Text

When they Apparate into his home, Lavender opens her eyes and is relieved to see that they're in his wing of the manor. The witch doesn't think she can tolerate the judgemental stares of Neville’s grandmother at the moment.

Not that Lavender will blame the woman this time, dressed as she is. Neville shifts slightly, and Lavender quickly lets go of him and looks around, trying not to show her embarrassment for behaving like a Devil's Snare.

They're in the movie room he keeps concealed from his grandmother. From her perusal, Lavender guesses that this is where he's been hiding from Mrs Longbottom for the past few days as well.

“Make yourself comfortable." Neville vanishes empty candy wrappers and a bottle of Firewhiskey from the seats in the middle of the theatre. "I'll get some more snacks. Any preference for drinks?"

"Water would be fine for now," she replies, taking a seat. 

Lavender's run hasn't exhausted her much, thanks to her Lycanthropy. However, it's safer to rehydrate before drinking heavily.

Neville nods and calls for his personal house-elf.

"Orchid, could you bring us a light meal, water and a bottle of Elf Wine, please?"

The house-elf smiles at them and nods happily before vanishing.

"I should have put on a shirt before calling for her. If Gran hears about this, then I'll never hear the end of it."

"Orchid's loyal to you, Neville. I don't think she'll say anything," Lavender says, crossing one leg over the other before hastily dropping it back to the floor.  The witch suddenly feels underdressed with her poor choice of clothing; she hasn't even brought a coat.

"She is loyal, but Orchid gets overly excited sometimes and lets things slip if I don't order her to keep it secret."

Neville's eyes disobey his orders, dancing merrily all over those thick, shapely legs with a captivating golden glow.

The pinnacle of Neville's shame comes when Lavender pulls a handkerchief from her purse and turns it into a white fur coat.

"It's so cold in here, and I forgot my cloak," she says chuckling as she pulls it on.

Neville dips his head, his cheeks reddening as he thinks of something to say.

"Sorry, I, uh, have to go to the loo. I'll be right back."

"Alright."

While Neville is gone, Lavender takes the chance to call Dean and takes out her personal Mirror-Caller from her clutch. She stares at her own reflection for a moment and decides to refrain from using a Glamour spell.

"Dean Thomas."

Her reflection remains a few seconds more, then it fades away, revealing Dean's face.

"Lavender, what's up?"

"Hi, Dean. I know it's late, and I should have called earlier, but something important came up, so I won't be able to make our date later."

"That's disappointing -"

Neville steps back into the bathroom with a smile, waiting for Lavender to end her call.

"Oh, Orchid, I don't think this is what Neville meant when he said a light meal."

Neville reenters the theatre pulling on a shirt. Lavender is staring at a small round dining table —in the middle of the aisle— set with a lace-fringed white fabric, a single magenta candle, and a vase of fuchsia-tinged wildflowers.  

Sod it all. Neville pinches the bridge of his nose. He has the petite woman, standing there looking beautiful, to thank for knowing words like fuchsia.

The bottle of wine is buried in some ice nearby, and the meal is arranged on his parents' best china with silverware and crystal goblets. 

The wizard stops beside the table, taking in the set-up before his gaze falls on his house-elf.

"Miss Brown is dressed too fancy for snacks." 

Orchid looks at Neville with wide green eyes, shimmering guilelessly. If his house-elf had gone to Hogwarts, she'd have made a perfect Slytherin. 

"Does Master wish for Orchid to move their meal to the stuffy seats where Miss might spill food on her dress?" she asks kindly.

Lavender has her hand over her mouth, trying to contain her laughter as she looks at him. Neville begins to chuckle, relieved that the tension from earlier is gone.

"No, Orchid. This is great, thank you."

Once the house-elf vanishes, Neville pulls out a chair for Lavender to sit. He calls out for Orchid to put on a movie, then sits in the other chair.

In the control room, Orchid nods to herself, putting on a movie that the two always watch together. 

At last, Master is finally eating well again, and with the witch worthy of him.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Neville pauses the player before Star Trek Beyond could begin. 

He and Lavender had decided to watch the first Star Trek movie together when they heard a Steelband Orchestra play the theme song two years ago.

They had both experienced the thrilling sensation of shivers going up and down their spines at the soul-touching music that Trinidadians could produce from modified steel drums.

A light snore has the wizard looking over at his sleeping friend. Lavender is cuddled into his side with her head on his chest.

"Wake me before the new one starts. I want us to watch it together," she said almost an hour ago.

However, Neville is hesitant to wake her. It's after 10 pm and, well, Beyond is still playing in muggle cinemas. Maybe he could take her to see it instead.

Leaving that option open, Neville carefully picks her up and carries her to the bedroom close to his.

Using his secret passageway, it takes the wizard less than three minutes to get there. He places her gently on the bed and is pulling off her shoes when Lavender shifts and opens her eyes.

"Hmm, Neville?" Her voice is husky with sleep, or possibly a lack of the healing potion she usually takes, and she clears her throat.

"Did you watch the movie without me?"

She leans up on an elbow to sleepily watch him remove the other shoe and place it with the other at the side of the bed.

Then Neville pulls the blanket up over her.

"No, I was thinking we might get a better experience at a cinema," he replies, not looking at her, "I'll watch other movies in the meantime."

"Aren't you going to bed?"

"I can't sleep," he says, shrugging wearily, "the symptoms are starting to fade, though."

Lavender stares at him silently, then she wiggles aside, patting the covers beside her.

"Change that shirt into pyjama top and come here. I think I know how to get you to sleep."

Somewhere deep inside a beast launches itself forward trying to break its chains, but Neville slams a cage around it, and after only a moment of hesitation, calmly lies on the covers next to her.

The wizard remains stiff on his back, unsure of what he should do next.

"Okay, turn over on your stomach," Lavender murmurs, blinking sleepily. 

Once he's done that, placing an arm under the pillow below his head, the witch shifts closer to him. Laying on her side, Lavender puts a hand on his back and begins rubbing it gently.

After a minute of staring at his friend lying there, her eyes closed as she pats and rubs his back, a light flickers in his mind.

"Are you trying to shush me to sleep… like a baby?"

"Shhh. I’ve had lots of practice with Roxanne and Hadrien," she whispers, "you're safe, sweetie, I'm here. Shhh."

Neville's annoyed, but it... feels kinda nice. Soothing.

"I'm not a baby," he mumbles.

"I know, baby, shhh."

Her voice is a gentle, husky whisper, and his cock jerks - but he's sleepy.

"I'll, uh, I'll deal with you in the morning," he murmurs, drifting off.

Neville almost thinks she says, 'Do you promise?', but sleep claims him, and he doesn't wake until the early hours before dawn.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Lavender wakes in the darkness of a slightly familiar room, then remembers that she's at Longbottom Manor. And that she'd fallen asleep next to Neville.

After a simple Mouth Cleansing charm, she turns onto her back to find that Neville has his arms draped over her and the covers. And now he's blinking awake at her movement.

"Hmm, morning," he grumbles, still waking.

"Good morning," she whispers, blinking in horror as a blast of last night's masticated dinner hit her nostrils.

Touching his lower lip with an index finger, Lavender sends the same Charm through his slightly parted lips.

"Sorry for waking you." 

"You can make up for it by showing me that charm one day," he replies, tightening his grip on her and dragging her closer, "and thank you for reminding me."

"About-"

The tingling on her lips is no longer because of her Charm since Neville just braced his upper body to hover over her. Then claims her lips in a soft, almost hesitant, kiss.

Lavender lets the kiss happen, thinking maybe it's just a quick peck between friends. But who is she kidding? That is not a thing.

The kiss ends too quickly, Neville is backing away, and Lavender sees his disappointment at her lack of a response.

Wait, does he want to kiss me? Does Neville feel for me the way I do about him?

Taking the risk, she shoves the blanket from her body and crawls over him. Neville's eyes flare with desire as the witch places her hand on his shoulder, pushing him back on the bed.

Lavender kisses him, long and slow. The wizard's hands span her back, then one slides down, grasping a soft, round arsecheek. When she suckles gently on his tongue, his hips jerk.

In one sweeping motion, Neville flips her onto her back again and is fiercely ravishing her lips. Dragging the hem of her dress up, he settles between her thighs. Soon his lips, teeth and tongue nibble their way along her neck.

Lavender moans, making a soft mewling sound as she rolls her hips, pressing her heated core against his hardened length.

The wizard is frustrated that her panties and his pyjama pants are in the way, but he decides they can wait. 

Neville has reached the mounds of her breast, and he slowly pushes down the top of her dress to reveal a firm raisinette nipple. He gently nibbles, and licks the circumference, teasing her nipple with the tip of his tongue.

Lavender is shaking as she writhes beneath him. 

Shit, it has been a while, she thinks.

Dean had been the only one of them to benefit from their humping marathon.

"Please," the witch whimpers, her fingers trailing through his hair.

His lips close over the little raisin, suckling gently as he works his hips, arching into her.

"Neville."

His witch whispers his name over and over, and Neville looks up. Caressing her breast and thumbing her nipple, he takes a moment to savour her arousal for him.

Her kinky-curly hair is spread on the pillow under her, slightly frizzy. Her golden-brown skin is fragrant of roses; her whiskey-brown eyes gazing up at him with trust and need. Her pouty lips, soft and inviting.

Neville captures those lips once more, drawing one of her legs up. Squeezing and stroking her thighs, he then grasps her thong and begins dragging it down over her hips.

"Neville Frank Longbottom!"

The wizard freezes, but Lavender squeals, — unable to move, effectively trapped under him — she turns her head away, covering her face with a hand.

"Gran!"

Neville looks toward the bedroom door, but his grandmother has already scuttled out.

Lavender peeks through her fingers and looks up at Neville. She can still see the need on his face, and anxiety begins to set in.

How did this just happen? There were no questions or decisions, it just started happening!

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. I need to think. I need to go home.

"Maybe you should go and talk to her. Make sure she's okay," she says calmly.

"I think it's more important that we talk."

"Neville, please." Lavender is still trapped under him, and she really needs to get home. "Just talk to your grandmother. I need some time alone."

The witch isn't sure if he senses her distress, but then Neville is nodding. He moves off of her, pulls on appropriate clothing and heads toward the door.

Lavender is pulling the sheets over her body when Neville turns back. His gaze never wavering from hers.

"We'll talk after I make sure Gran hasn't fainted somewhere."

"Okay," she murmurs.

When she is sure Neville is gone, Lavender fixes her clothes. And after writing a short note, ‘I’m sorry!’, she begs Orchid to take her to the Apparition point.

The witch is already back at her apartment when Orchid informs Neville that she’s gone.

Chapter Text

Half an hour later, in her kitchen, the witch takes out a container of Rocky Road ice cream from the freezer box. Then she pours herself a glass of Dolcetto, grabs a spoon and takes everything to her bedroom.

An hour later Lavender is still snuggling in bed with a second helping of ice cream, drinking wine, and watching Sleepy Hollow. Then she sighs out loud.

"Oh, Abigail, Ichabod. Why couldn't you see how perfect you two were for each other? - Fuck you for doing this to me, do you hear me? Fuck you!"

Looking around her room and -duh, she's alone- Lavender shoves another spoonful of Rocky Road in her mouth. Savouring the sweet chocolatey chill, her eyes are once again glued to the flat screen on the wall.

After a few glasses of wine the past hour, the tipsiness has set in and feeling a bit naughty, she puts on Scandal.

Sometime later, she’s twisting restlessly as heat flares between her legs.

Olivia is hurrying away from the Christening function and, oh Merlin, Fitz is pursuing her.

"Holy fuck, this is possibly the hottest thing I've ever seen."

They're in the closet now, and Lavender hastily stops the player and just breathes. This is when she notices that something isn't right.

The sweet pulsing ache… won't stop.

"Oh, no."

The witch hurries to her muggle calendar on the wall over her dresser. Then she flips back to see the previous month's mark she'd made.

Lavender has been fighting the urge to check the calendar since she got home early this morning. Distracting herself from looking for the mistake she's probably made. But it's there, in bold red marker ink.

It hadn't just happened... exactly as she thought.

The witch staggers over to her bed and crawls under the covers. Then slumps back onto her pillow and stares up at the ceiling with tears in her eyes.

She had marked the wrong date on her calendar. It is her time of the month.

Lavender curls onto her side. She was right about Neville, since breaking his bond to his soulmate, he's responding to her mating time like any other free male in her vicinity. 

Dragging herself to her feet again, she wipes the tears from her face. Finding parchment and a self-inking quill, Lavender writes a letter to Neville, folds it into a paper plane and sends it through the floo like he's shown her.

Afterwards, the witch takes a potion to sober up and grabs her wand. She slowly walks around her apartment and the shop, adding additional spells to the Wards.

No wizard is getting in, and if she gets drunk again, the Wards won't let her out. A stupid, dangerous thing to do, but so was a female witch in heat who's walking around Hogsmeade. 

After careful consideration, the witch makes a note on some parchment.

'Closed. Will reopen on September 1st.'

Lavender sticks the sign on her shop door then makes her way back upstairs. She heaves a sigh reentering her bedroom.

I guess I can complete my latest project now that I have all this free time.

"But first," she mumbles, going back to bed after changing the DVD, Lavender huffs wearily. Killjoys, here I come.

"Dutch, Johnny, you're as blind as the others I've seen so far. Everyone knows that True Love is perfect when it's between two best friends."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Neville sits bracing his elbows on his knees as he waits for Severus to bring the tea. After the reprimand from Gran, he didn't know where else to go.

Not that he has many choices. Harry and Hermione are off again, searching for her parents before school restarted. Luna and Draco were busy running their own businesses, and he wasn’t about to confide in Dean about Lavender.

Severus is the closest thing he has to a friend -well, a parental figure- after Gran refuses to even look at him. And this isn't something he wishes to share with Professor Sprout.

With him and Harry becoming as close as brothers, Severus had taken Neville under his wing as well during their martial magic sessions.

Though it had taken time for Neville to loosen up around the man who once hated life, and took it out on the people around him.

There is movement on the grand staircase, and Neville watches as Denise goes by. Severus is returning with tea, but places the tray aside, and follows the witch into another room.

Although they seem to be trying to speak softly, Neville can still hear bits of their conversation. Such as it is.

"Leave me alone!"

"My love, please, if you will just speak to me-"

"I am not..."

Their voices become buzzing chatter, and Neville recognises the Muffliato Spell.

A few minutes later, Severus joins him on the sofa with the tea tray. The man's face is devoid of any emotions to indicate anything is wrong.

"Tell me, what weighs on your mind about Miss Brown that you would come to me of all people?" 

Settled with their tea, Neville takes a breath and a sip of Earl Grey before beginning.

"I'm in love with Lavender."

It was best to get that out of the way instead of beating around the bush; there's no question about how he feels when it comes to that witch.

Severus responds with an elegantly arched brow.

"Really? I never would've guessed, and I'm completely floored by this revelation."

The Potions Master takes a sip of his tea, and Neville chuckles at the thinly veiled sarcasm.

"Have you told her?"

"No. But uh, we kissed." Neville looks down at the floor. "Well, I kissed her, and she seemed to like it. So I assumed after that, she'd be open to changing the course of our relationship."

The young wizard rubs a hand over the stubble on his face.

"But then she sent me a letter... here, you can read it."

Severus hesitantly opens the letter. He remembers Miss Brown's unstable behaviour that year so long ago, and he feels abhorrence at the obligation to read any correspondence of hers.

Dear Neville,

First, I have to say that I'm sorry for running off before we could speak in person, but I had a hunch, and I needed to do some double-checking.

Please don't hate me Neville, but it was a mistake. It's that time of the month again. I'm so sorry.

I hope I haven't ruined our friendship with my carelessness.

Will you come over after the next two days when this all blows over? I'd like us to talk about it face to face.

You're one of my best friends, Neville, and I don't want to lose what we have.

Your friend,

Lavender

Severus refolds the letter and gives it back to Neville.

"So, you've fallen in love with your best friend, but she doesn't feel the same way." The wizard sips his tea, fixing Neville with a look. "Is that why you've come to me?"

Neville's eyes widen.

"Oh, Merlin. I didn't even... I wasn't thinking of that, Severus. I'm sorry."

"Neville, it's fine. My previous relationship with Lily Potter doesn't hurt me anymore. Especially not since I met my wife."

Neville nods, looking at the letter in his hand.

"What do I do, Severus? I didn't break my Soulmate bond to be with Lavender, but when I realised that I was free, I thought..." He pauses, then sighs heavily. "I guess I moved too fast."

The Potions Master puts his empty cup on the coffee table, then placing a foot on the knee of his other leg, he tents his fingers in front of him.

"A good guess as any," he replies, "it's possible that Miss Brown needs time to think about how she feels about you. However, allow me to be the devil's advocate, if I may?"

At Neville's nod, Severus continues.

"What if Miss Brown doesn't return your affections? What if she's a selfish witch just using your status as an influential wizard to make wizardkind accept her partial Lycanthropy the way they have Bill Weasley’s? After all, with full-blooded Lycanthropes, the females are considered more dangerous than the males. No one —not even Lupin— has been able to come to a conclusion as to why that is. As, ironically, the males are very protective of them, and the females are segregated in their communities."

Neville wants to be angry at the man for his words, but he can see the concern for him in Severus' eyes. And this tells him that something, or rather, someone was at the forefront of the Potions Master's mind.

His disordered thoughts return to Lavender. Neville doesn't understand why she lied about the moon being full that night. Did she really think he'd believe that? Or was she trying to brush him off by claiming that she's menstruating?

Usually, when Lavender mentions her time of the month, he'd always assumed it was about her Lycanthropy as most witches are too cultured to mention something as private as menstruation.

"She sent another note not long after this one saying that she wants things to go back to the way it was."

"Hmmm, I-"

The Floo activates, and Denise strolls out, passing by the sitting area without looking at them. Severus keeps his eyes locked on his wife until she disappears up the stairs.

"Severus." Neville waits for the wizard to turn back to him, though the man doesn't meet his gaze. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

The Potions Master is barely able to hide his despair when he looks at Neville.

"I don't think anyone can."

"Whatever I can do, whatever you need, I'm here."

"Thank you, son."

Severus is staring at the stairway again, and Neville knows the word has slipped by the man unnoticed. It usually did when the Potions Master was feeling especially vulnerable.

Neville leans back into his seat with a sandwich, prepared to wait until Severus doesn't need his presence anymore. 

As for Lavender, he'll have to pay her a visit. It's time they spoke face to face.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"Luna! Youuur're hhhereee! Heeey Lulu... Luna hiiii!"

"Hello, Lavender," Luna says with a smile as she enters the witch's bedroom, "Angelina asked me to drop off some lunch for you since she had an emergency."

"Eeee! Pelau! I love Pelau!" Lavender squeals at the fragrant scent of spices coming from the take-out bag. 

The witch chuckles as she tumbles from her bed then pops back up. Empty wine bottles clink as Lavender bumps into her nightstand in her determination to get a peek into the container of food Luna holds out.

"You went all the way to Trinidad to get me lunch? That's sooo sweet!"

Luna smiles morosely, tidying up the witch's bedroom before leading her to the living room sofa and placing the food container on the coffee table.

"Angelina says you might want some comfort food since it's your time of the month."

"Mmmm hmmm but I can't eat... cuz I'm drunk... an' I might vomit."

"Lavender... ?" Luna pauses, unsure of how to say what she had to, but there's no way around it. "I couldn't help but notice that things are changing between you and Neville-"

"Neville is so sweet... and he's like... my best friend ever. Better even than Angelina and better-er than... than Purr-vati."

"Yes, Neville is sweet, and I was hoping to instil in you the importance of you ceasing to mention your menstruation in a public setting."

"W-what... ?"

"Oh, we, your friends don't mind, but if you want to impress Neville's grandmother, you may have to... behave a certain way."

"You schound different... an' you... an' you look different too, Luna," Lavender gasps, her eyes widening, "remember when I... when I used to look like you? Everyone hated me."

Fat tears begin to roll from the drunk witch's eyes.

"I hated me... I hate her so much! A-an' now I can't go outside cuz... cuz I smell like sex. I think..."

Lavender trails off to take a whiff of her armpits. 

Luna frowns, not really understanding what the witch is talking about. 

"Do I smell like sex to you? Oh, wait, no, you're married... and a girl. Maybe I should have asked Neville what I smelled like before I ran. But I wasn't sure if it was my time of the month. But it is my time of the month, so I could ask him. Do you think I should ask Neville to come over so he can tell me what my heat smells like?"

"Your heat?" Luna asks slowly, and she notes a dim light of awareness rising in Lavender's eyes at her question. Then Luna’s own understanding dawns and Lavender begins to chatter.

"Oh, uh, I - I never told anyone. Didn't want to... only Neville knows. He saved me. I needed food, an' thought I could make it back home before it started. But then they were all over me, and Neville, he rescued me. He wasn't affected like them, and - and I knew he had a soulmate and that he'd never hurt me like those men were going to.

"Then he kissed me last night. Or the night before… an' I thought it was cuz he doesn't have a soulmate anymore, so it was okay to like me. An' kiss me, an’ touch me... mmm we were all over each other, but then his Gran walked in. An' then I realised that he doesn't have a soulmate anymore, an' I ran home cuz I thought it was weird that he kissed me. Cuz that fucking gorgeous wizard deserves better than some bitch in heat like me... an' then I got home... an' my mark on the calendar was wrong. I was wrong."

Luna tries to wrap her mind around Lavender's drunken ramble, but then the other witch springs unsteadily to her feet.

"I smell like fucking shit. I'm gonna go take a bath, an' then I'm gonna come back an' murder that Pelau," she says, pointing threateningly at the container of food.

The witch cackles, staggering into her room, then she grips the frame of the bedroom door.

"Oh god, imagine if I'd called Neville to come over an' take a whiff of me now." The witch leans her head against the doorframe, a look of longing on her tear-stained face. "I love him."

As Lavender disappears into the bathroom, Luna stands and begins casting charms to clean up the scattered mess around the small apartment.

Her mind continues to decipher Lavender's drunken monologue, and she slowly comes to realise that Neville doesn't know that Lavender has a mating season, though Lavender believes he knows.

It's the only explanation for the misunderstandings, and why Neville is currently waiting downstairs to be allowed through the ward. Clearly, the wizard is unaware that he would become severely aroused at close proximity to his friend. That he might even attack the witch. Neville would never knowingly place Lavender in harm's way.

Luna thought of heading downstairs and informing Neville of their misunderstanding. However, an intense wave of Knowing washes over her, and the Sage sighs in defeat.

Lavender and Neville aren't soulmates, but their connection... their love for one another is just as destined as any soulmate pair. It's a destiny they're choosing for themselves that’s meant to last. A brand new Soul Bond. Something rare and beautiful. 

And the Sage is forbidden to interfere. Again.

"What good is my ability if I'm not allowed to use it?"

Luna gets a sense of Something chuckling, silently amused by her, It sends an impression of a negligent shrug. 

With a huff of annoyance, Luna continues to clean until Lavender returns. Whatever It is, it's probably invisible on purpose, having a lark every time she looks around like a looney. Sensing silent laughter again, Luna settles down as her magic takes care of the dust and grime around the apartment.

Ten minutes later, on Lavender's behalf, Luna takes a quick moment to rush downstairs and tell Neville anything but the truth.

"Is she angry with me?" he asks, looking weary with a day's growth of stubble on his face.

"I can honestly say that she's not angry with you, Neville and that she doesn't want your friendship to change. Just give her time, and she'll come around. You'll see, your friendship will be back to normal."

Luna looks on guiltily as Neville walks away, his shoulders hunched and his hands in his pockets. The wizard's cloak flaps lazily around his legs as he finally Disapparates.

Chapter Text

It's the second day of the school term, the sun had set half an hour ago, and Professor Longbottom's last student left forty-five minutes before that.

Neville stays behind, as usual, to feed and water the various plants under his care. He's missing dinner, but it's a Friday night and decides he can have a late-night meal since he was free —of students at least— for the next two days.

The Professor closes up Greenhouse 7, then heads to his office to tidy up. Neville wants to get to his quarters in the castle before Harry or Hermione come looking for him. 

Actually, he plans to visit with Severus before retiring. Severus is silent on the matter, but Denise has suddenly left her husband and son, leaving her things behind and a hurriedly penned note saying goodbye.

Though Neville just wants to hole up in his rooms for the next two days and quietly feel sorry for himself, he wanted to make sure Severus was okay. Then movement at the lake catches his eyes.

Stealthily moving closer, his wand drawn, Neville realises it's a woman stooping at the edge of the lake, and she is dipping a clay urn into the water, filling it.

"Lavender?"

The witch gasps and her head whips toward him.

"Oh, Neville, you startled me," she says, covering the jar and sealing it with a spell.

Neville's eyebrows lift in surprise because Lavender always knows when he's near. He wonders if the charm he's placed on himself to conceal his scent from the carnivorous plants in Greenhouse 7 is also disguising him from her. This could be something useful that Severus and Hermione may want to know.

Lavender stands, effortlessly lifting the charmed-featherlight jar, she turns to face him. Then he remembers his mistake two weeks ago, and her request for some time.

"Well, I'll leave you to your task. Good evening." 

Then he turns and begins walking toward the castle. He'll tidy his office in the morning.

"Wait, Neville, I wanted to talk to you."

The witch catches up to him and holds on to one of his arms, and Neville stops, sighing wearily.

"You —you didn't come to see me after— I, um, did you get my letter?"

"Listen, Lavender, I know you want things to go back to the way they were between us," Neville says, looking into her eyes, "but it's too late for that. We almost… we both know what happened."

Neville tries to pull away, but Lavender keeps a hold of his arm.

"Neville," her husky voice breaks, "I know it never affected you before, but I thought you'd understand."

The witch's eyes well with tears, but Neville grits his teeth and doesn't give in or reply, and she takes a shaky breath.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Neville. Please, it was a genuine mistake. I wouldn’t do that to you." 

The look on her face is heartfelt, and Neville turns away. Closing his eyes, the wizard is unable to look at the beautiful witch so willing to break his heart.

"Just go, Lavender."

"I didn't think... I never thought that me… that being like this mattered to you," she says with a soft sob.

"I guess you thought wrong."

Lavender releases his arm, then backs away, gripping her scarf. Neville wants to give in, to say that he's alright with being friends, but that would be a lie. Clearly, he wants more than the witch is willing to give. 

He briefly wonders what would happen if he kisses her right now… if he proclaims his love would it change her mind? Neville moves a step closer to her, and Lavender looks up at him. There is a look of hope and longing in her gaze, and it crushes him to know that what she longs for is their easy and comfortable friendship.

“I’m sorry, Lavender, but we can’t be friends anymore.”

Once again, the wizard is rejected by the witch he loves. Only this time, it's as devastating as a bond-breaking. Hiding his feelings as best he could, Neville steps back then turns and strides away. 

The wizard doesn't want to leave the issues between them unresolved, but he can't go back to being just her friend. Not after having a taste of her — he wants more.

There's a flash of gold in his peripheral, Neville looks toward it and halts suddenly in his tracks.

Guilt rises as he sees a familiar pale, blonde woman Disapparate outside the gates.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Lavender ignores the judgemental glares of her neighbours as she enters her apartment from the back alley. She shakily makes her way to her basement —returned to its normal function as her research lab— and places the pot of water on the counter.

The witch stares at the blurry paleness of her arms through her tears. Looking up, she meets her own gaze, so to speak, in the incomplete magic mirror on the wall.

Just then, the magic in the mirror fluctuates, awaiting her enchantment. Lavender has been enthusiastically working on it all morning, forgetting that she should have collected a fresh pot of water from the Black Lake beforehand. Her magic mirrors, in this case, The Oracle, will not work without it.

The Oracle —her latest project— will change the way Soulmates are found. This magic mirror will allow a Sage to pinpoint precisely who a client's Soulmate is and where they are. Energy from the mirror ripples again, blowing a golden lock of hair across her eyes. The witch heaves a breath and begins sobbing again.

Once upon a time, Lavender had been tricked by a friend into essentially disfiguring herself. She was mauled by an untransformed werewolf and given a terrible disease. Then the witch was abandoned and ignored by a Soulmate as a result.

Now, she's been scorned by the man she loves.

Lavender Vivian Brown is hated by the magical world. Yet here she is, trying to create the one thing that will prevent all those who hate her from ever experiencing a heartache like hers.

Anger begins working itself through her grief.

The Oracle will never work for me.

She turns away from the pale-skinned witch in the mirror as her magic manifests a small and quickly growing whirlwind around her.

You'll give everyone else the person they desire most in the world.

Lavender grabs the clay pot; then, with the force of her anger and magic, smashes it against the mirror, screaming.

"WHAT ABOUT ME?"

The witch drops to her knees. Her sadness and anger are quickly replaced by regret as Lavender takes in the devastation she caused. Smashed remnants of the pot and her mirror lay haphazardly in a pool of water. Tears flow as she realises what she's done; the Oracle had been close to completion.

"Lavender!"

The witch turns to the voice as her magic whirling around her settles.

"Denise?"

The other witch releases the full body shield from around herself, then rushes over to the kneeling Lavender.

"What are you doing here?" Lavender asks listlessly.

"I did come to ask for yuh help," Denise replies, kneeling beside her, eyes full of concern, "but it could wait. You alright? Yuh need help with anything?"

Lavender focuses on Denise through her tears. The other witch is thin, almost to the point of emaciation, she has dark bags under her eyes, and her hair is a knotted mess. Then Lavender remembers that Denise has been missing for a few days.

"Oh, Merlin, Neeci! Are you alright? What happened to you?"

Denise sits back wearily on her legs, sadness making her eyes a dark pit.

"What's wrong, Neeci?" Lavender asks gently.

"Me... Severus... mostly me," Denise replies, then focuses on Lavender, "so, what wrong with you? You look as if you feel as bad as I look."

Lavender sputters out a mix of laughter and sobs.

"Me... Neville, but mostly me."

Then the witches are hugging and crying, holding each other, completely unaware of the magic building up in the room as the mirror reforms. It's the howling magical wind that finally catches their attention, and both witches' attention snaps toward The Oracle.

"Oh my G—"

"We should r—"

Magic explodes, and there are twin screams of pain and terror. 

Then nothing.

Sometime later, Lavender wakes with a groan. She rises shakily to her knees and looks around. The basement looks like someone cast a Bombarda Maxima. Surprisingly, though broken, The Oracle is still whole and can be easily fixed.

Relieved that the blast seems to have been contained in the basement, Lavender slowly makes her way to her bedroom. Too exhausted to bathe or magic the filth from her skin, she drops across the width of the bed, falling into a deep sleep.

Chapter Text

"Master's gran is wanting to see him in the family room."

Neville is just blinking the sleep from his eyes when Orchid appears at his side. Lifting his head from the desk, he carelessly peels away the sheet of parchment stuck to his face and slumps into his chair.

"Tell her I'm busy."

"Madam says she is not taking no for an answer."

With an aggravated groan, Neville makes his way to the wing of the mansion his grandmother occupies. As the master of the house, he can Apparate into whatever room Gran is in. However, Neville decides to approach her as civilly as possible, unwilling to be in his grandmother's presence longer than necessary.

An action apparently wasted on her. Augusta Longbottom gasps in shock anyway at the appearance of her grandson.

"How dare you come to me in such a manner? Neville Longbottom, you turn around right this instance and make yourself presentable before coming to me again."

The wizard is dressed in a rumpled and stained muggle shirt and trousers. His hair hasn't been shorn in weeks! His jaw is covered with dark stubble... and Merlin, he surely hasn't showered for a while either.

Ignoring her outrage, Neville strolls over to the sofa opposite her chair and drops onto it, staring blankly at her.

Gritting her teeth at the blatant disrespect, Augusta takes a deep breath, then sniffs disapprovingly. 

"This needs to end, Grandson. I have been receiving numerous complaints about your thuggish behaviour around wizarding Britain. If these actions of yours continue, then I will be forced to take charge of the estate until you gain proper and much-needed perspective."

Neville rubs at his eyes.

"Is that all, Gran?"

The old woman becomes even more annoyed at his indifference and glares at the dishevelled figure of her grandson.

"Mind your tongue, young man. That witch is gone, and maybe it's a good thing —"

Neville rises immediately to his feet and glares down at his grandmother.

"Be very careful what you say about her, Gran. That witch is the woman I love."

Highly offended, Augusta gets to her own feet.

"But did she love you in return? … No answer? Well, that's not surprising. Don't think I haven't seen your unbecoming despair after the disgraceful display I witnessed in your guest room."

Neville is vibrating with pent up anger, hurt and magic, but he says nothing.

"Do you know why I disapproved of her?"

 Neville scoffs.

"It's not what you think, Grandson. And I find it an extreme insult, despite your earlier words and appearance, that you think I could ever be prejudiced against werewolves."

Satisfied when he looks away guiltily, Augusta continues.

"I disapproved because she was an unstable witch. Witches like that do not live long, happy lives because they burden their families with their shortcomings. To go so far as to permanently change her appearance..."

Neville frowns and turns to her again.

"Lavender's Glamour Curse wasn't her fault. Parvati Patil sabotaged her Charms project."

"It doesn't matter who's at fault, Neville, all that matters was her intention behind that spell. You will not have met Victoria Bleue of Brundame Estates, as the family runs in a highly exclusive circle — one containing families like Vance, Fenris and Creed. 

“One day you might be fortunate enough to encounter Miss Bleue. Then you'll be meeting the unfortunate soul that Miss Brown chose to model herself after... her own stepsister. One she'd always been jealous of. Thankfully, her stepmother saw through Miss Brown's plot to cheat Victoria of her wealth and status, banishing her when the opportunity arose... Neville—"

The door slams behind him. but Neville hears her parting words.

"The witch is dead, Grandson. Let her go! "

After taking a bath at Orchid's pleading, Neville is striding through Knockturn Alley, following a lead about a blond witch held captive in one of the Secret Kept establishments. However, that had been a dead end. Most of the Knockers walking along the Alley quickly step out of his path as he makes his way to a pub that usually keeps women against their will.

Unfortunately, not all the thugs trolling in the dark corners of Knockturn pay any mind to the hilarious rumours that say: stay away from that bloke, Longbottom, and Neville frowns as a duo of wizards fall into step behind him. 

An unnatural rain and fog have been pouring over the Alleys the past few days. Neville had seen a few Aurors taking statements from shop owners on Diagon — possibly to find the culprit. They're crap at their job though, seeing as they steered clear of Knockturn.

Though the Cursed weather over Diagon was gone, it's still a snowy winter day. Whereas on Knockturn, it remains rainy, foggy and freezing. 

Neville pulls up the hood of the modified muggle trenchcoat Harry had given him for his birthday without missing a step. He can easily be mistaken for one of these Knockers, dressed in his dark clothing, but the wizard doesn't care. Now that he's been trolling the area for two months, the hags and duffers know better than to mess with him. At least, they should have known better by now.

"Oi, Longbottom!"

Neville keeps moving, ignoring the wizard trying to keep up with his strides. 

Seamus Finnegan hadn't been able to cope after the battle at Hogwarts. Neville's old schoolmate had rejected every offer of help from his family and friends, especially Dean. Now Finnegan lives in the pubs and side lanes of Knockturn, addicted to the Euphoria potion.

"Heard you, of all people, turned to the dark side. Told my mate here that didn't sound like you at all. Didn't I, Skrim?"

Skrim grunted on the ex-hit wizard's other side, but Neville continues his long strides, ignoring them both.

"It true ya looking for Lav-Lav?" Finnegan cackles at his own joke before continuing. "Do the world a favour, mate, let dead werewolf bitches lie, eh."

Neville stops in his tracks. The other two take a few more steps before they realise he's stopped walking and turns back to him. He stares fixedly at Finnegan.

"Watch what you say about her, Seamus, or I'll forget that we shared the same dorm room at Hogwarts."

"Or what, Longbottom?" Finnegan scoffs, looking around at the gathering crowd. "Everyone knows what that bitch was like at school, all the higher up blokes passing her ar—"

There's no warning as Neville stuns Skrim, who slams into a stone wall and is knocked unconscious. Finnegan tries to pull his wand, but the ex-hit wizard has already resheathed his own. 

Neville strides over to the other man, grabs the front of his dirty robes and slaps him across the face. The sound echoes around the silent yet crowded alleyway. Finnegan stumbles, struggling to escape the arm holding him captive but Neville's grip is powerful, and he tries to steady himself. 

Neville —eyes cold, face hard— slaps him again. The gathered witches and wizards wince at the pitch of the blow, including the utter humiliation of the well-known Knocker.

Neville drags the foul-smelling Finnegan as close as he dares.

"Never speak of her like that in my presence again."

He lets the other wizard drop to the muddy cobblestone road. When Neville turns to leave, the junkie shows his brave, Gryffindor side.

"Blimey! Did ya love the bitch, Longbottom?" Finnegan says, sitting in the cold mud. "Too bad she already had a Soulmate, eh? For the right price, I mighta done a Breakin', let ya 'ave her... sucks the bint went bonkers and blew herself up along with the Greasy Bat's wife."

Everything went black and red. 

Then, all Neville knows is that he's being pulled away from kneeling on a busted up Finnegan. His knuckles are bloody and numb, and a soothing voice is urging him to keep moving.

"Borgin."

"Sir, I — come this way."

The grip on his arm is then urging him into the green flames of a Floo.

"Family room, Prince Manor."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"This needs to stop," Severus says quietly.

Witnessing this younger man, whom he loves like a son, take the path Severus himself had so many years ago... He is not willing to let this hurting wizard go too far down that road.

"She doesn't belong to you! She's not a thing to sell! You'll never have her!"

Every other word had been punctuated by a loud, crushing blow to Finnegan's face.

Yes, Severus definitely knows what this young wizard is feeling.

"Have you been talking to Gran?" Neville murmurs.

"I've never had the pleasure of speaking with Augusta Longbottom."

Neville scoffs lightly.

"In other words, she thinks you're not good enough to darken the halls of Longbottom manor. The prejudiced, old hag," he mutters.

Severus shifts uncomfortably, though he wholeheartedly agrees with Neville... silently.

"Be that as it may, if she's been asking you to cease these daily forays into Knocturn Alley, then she is right." Severus softens his voice further, though his pain is still bare. "Neville, you know more than anyone how sorry I am to say this, but she is gone."

Neville shakes his head, but Severus goes on.

"I scoured the room as you asked. Lavender and... Denise had been in the room when the explosion happened."

Neville looks up. The despair radiating in the dark eyes of the wizard before him is like a punch to the gut. If Severus believes his own Soulmate is gone... No!

"There's still hope," he says desperately, "you're okay, and the mirror Lavender gave me still works. They're somewhere out there, Sev. Probably hurt."

"Denise had been pulling away from me for weeks before she disappeared. The only reason I've survived this complete severing of our bond due to her... death is my ability as an Occlumens. I... don't have much longer, son, I may have a day or an hour. Admit it, Neville, the magic on the mirror is fading."

Silent tears fall from Neville's eyes. Hope is all he has. 

Neville desperately needs Severus to continue believing. The older wizard is the only one of their friends left who Neville can go to for ideas or leads. Severus is as hopeful as he, or so the young wizard thought.

"Please, Sev," he rasped, "if we hold on just a bit longer. Maybe—"

Severus closes his eyes wearily... sadly... finally, and Neville breaks. He hunches over, elbow on his knees as he releases the anguish he's been holding onto for three months.

The soothing fragrance of potions and herbs assail him just as a hand touches his hair. Then Neville is sobbing in the arms of his dying friend and father figure.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Neville enters his bedroom hours later. 

After leaving Severus as darkness settled, he'd visited his grandmother to apologise for his rudeness, then left before she ruined it.

"Master—"

"Orchid, as soon as possible, I want you to send my Abysm into storage while I look into having... Lavender's things stored as well."

"Yes, Master, but—"

"And visit my office at Hogwarts. Please have it cleaned and ready for me by Monday."

"Yes, Master."

"And—"

"Master Neville! Stop talking over Orchid!"

The wizard stops his reel of orders and looks down in shock at his agitated house-elf.

Orchid nods firmly at his silence.

"Master's ball of light in his study is making Orchid's magic tingle."

Ball of light? Neville frowns in confusion. "Ball of light in my... the orb!"

Neville races to his study. The magical relics he'd 'borrowed' from Auror Headquarters detects magical signatures... living magical signatures. The wizard has kept one in his office while the other is hidden at Lavender's apartment.

In his study, Neville's heart races, hope fills him as he sees the bright, shining light wafting outward in beautiful pink waves from the orb.

"Lavender."

Chapter Text

Something's... different.

This is Lavender's first coherent thought after waking. She is sprawled across her bed, looking up at the ceiling, one of her legs tucked in, while her other foot is hovering over the side.

Sitting up to stretch, the witch becomes increasingly aware of how loud her neighbours are and wonders if the explosion knocked out her Wards. She yawns and almost gags at the smell of something charred, damp and rotting.

Getting her wand from the bed beside her, Lavender creates a small Warding spell around herself. She frowns, slightly concerned that her senses are so much more intense than usual with the Wards down. 

Shrugging off her worry, she makes her way into the bathroom. The witch is happy to see that she is back to looking like her true self again as she bathes. Lavender is excited to share the good news with Neville... 

Oh, right.

How could she have forgotten? It was only yesterday when she went a smidge mental and destroyed her mirror because Neville ended their friendship. Then she and Denise had...

"Oh, my God! No, no, no..." 

Cold shivers shoot up and down her spine as she remembers the other witch, and she immediately gets out of the shower. 

Lavender carelessly pulls out clothes from her dresser and pulls them on as she races out of her bedroom. Rushing down the steps to the basement, the witch bursts through the door.

"Neeci!"

Seeing the destruction again, Lavender is ashamed that she'd forgotten her friend, falling asleep for hours and not thinking of Denise once. Lifting her wand, she casts a Homenum Revelio.

"Neeci?"

The witch calls for her friend, but it's clear that no one but her occupies the room. The Oracle is on the wall, and even though she woke up next to it, Lavender only just realises that there's no reflection. 

On the floor next to The Oracle are two dark scorch marks, and she remembers that this is where she and Denise had been kneeling. Suddenly, a chill comes over her, and the witch realises that the room is freezing cold.

Wrapping her arms around herself, Lavender looks around the room once more. It's clean and unfurnished, except for some random ball over in the corner and the mirror. However, the basement looks like a blast zone. 

One that no one can survive. 

The witch cups her hand to her face as the knowledge sinks in.

We died... I'm dead. 

A fist tightens around her heart. 

Do I still have a heart? 

No, it's residual sensory. Lavender had learned it in Ghost Studies at Hogwarts. Ghosts don't have hearts. Ghosts are lingering souls of the dead on the earthly plane, and she might be stuck as one of them. Unless she finds a way to let go.

The witch looks down at herself and sees that she still looks normal —not pale or transparent— in unzipped shorts and a tank top. Was this a vision then? Some kind of afterlife stage of death? 

What does it matter? 

"I'm dead," she whispers, and her voice echoes eerily in the empty basement.

In the blink of an eye, Lavender's life has been snuffed out, and she'll never see her friends again. 

Neville... she'll never get to tell him—

"Lavender?"

The witch gasps and whirls toward the door at the sound of her name. Tears are blurring her vision, so she wipes them away and is stunned.

Neville —or more accurately— a vision of Neville is standing in the doorway. Lavender knows it's just a vision because only in her mind would Neville Longbottom let himself look this rough and sexy. 

His hair is shaggy, almost covering his eyes, reaching the nape of his neck; he also has a day or more of beard growth.

Lavender backs away as the vision begins slowly walking toward her, and she shivers. The witch feels almost hunted, as her back meets the wall next to the Oracle. She warily watches his approach, then their eyes meet, and Lavender is one hundred percent sure that this is not her Neville. 

Neville has never had this look in his eyes, not for her. This vision is looking at Lavender like she… like she's the only thing… the one thing he's ever needed and craved forever. Not surprising, since she had wished he'd look at her this way when she'd seen him with — 

No, no, this is my vision, and I'll not ruin it. If it's time for me to cross over, then at least I get to tell some version of Neville how I feel before I do. In fact, this is probably the only way I get to move on.

The two are standing now with only a breath between them, and Lavender can almost imagine the sweet fragrance of Neville's usual musky soap. His hands lift a couple of times, then drop back to his side as if he's afraid to touch her, so Lavender reaches up. Her fingers tingle at the prickling sensation of his stubble.

NotNeville closes his eyes and slowly touches the hand on his jaw, then he releases a shuddering breath.

"Even though you're not my Neville," Lavender says softly, "I'm glad I get to see you one last time."

Neville's eyes shoot open, and he gazes down at her, almost dazed, as she continues.

"I know before I died, you didn't want us to be friends anymore because of my Lycanthropy. No, don't say anything, let me finish. When you said that…  It hurts so much, knowing the man I'm in love with will never love me back. But I want you to know that I love you, Neville. I will always love you."

Lavender gets on her tiptoes, kisses him on the jaw and moves to step to the side. NotNeville blocks her path with an arm, and she leans against the wall with a sigh.

"Please, just let me go. I don't think it's a good idea for me to linger in a fantasy. That's how some ghosts are born. Neville—"

"Lavender, I love you, and I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner."

The witch's eyes widen as he gently tilts her chin up and looks into her eyes.

"I love you."

Then NotNeville leans down and kisses her lips. It's a slow, lingering kiss, almost like he's savouring the moment, and her eyes tear up at the tender goodbye, even as her body begins responding.

Suddenly, it's no longer a tender kiss. NotNeville is gripping her hips and claiming her mouth; her body is pulled tight against him, her feet no longer on the floor. Lavender finds herself with a hand on his shoulder and the other in his hair, delighting in their last kiss. 

Then she breaks away, reluctantly trying to dodge his tracking lips.

"Wait, what am I doing?" Lavender moans, squirming for him to release her. "We shouldn't — what's happening?"

"That depends," NotNeville murmurs, his lips hovering next to hers.

"On?" she breathes.

"Whether or not you still think you're dead."

 ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Neville carefully places the orb into its containment box, locks it and then banishes it back to his study at Longbottom Manor. 

After Lavender had begged him to let her go, she'd raced out of the room. But not before the wizard placed a Tracking Spell on her. An illegal action, but Neville refuses to lose her when he only just got her back.

At the moment, the witch is lingering upstairs in her apartment. Neville is relieved that he'd prevented the Auror Department from barging in to confiscate her work, and he'd decided to leave her things as they are.

The wizard loudly makes his way up the stairs and into her living room. Lavender is pacing back and forth in front of her sofa.

The witch turns in her pacing, sees him, and Neville wishes he could wipe the sadness and shame from those cinnamon-brown eyes.

"Neville, why do you look so... so different? You didn't look like this yesterday. It was yesterday when you—? I woke up in my basement this morning, so it had to be yesterday. Why are you just standing there? Tell me it was yesterday!"

Never had a wizard been happier to have a witch yelling at him, and Neville closes his eyes and basks in the rightness of this woman being here, alive.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Lavender nearly smacked herself when she'd almost asked Neville why he looked so hot.

Now, as the wizard moves closer, she gingerly backs away, pretending to look around her small living space. His familiar sweet-musky male scent envelopes her, more powerful than earlier. Lavender places a mental leash around her neck as her senses go all haywire. Her body's reacting as if she's in heat again, yet the witch knows she's not.

Focus, Lavender! There are more pressing things to worry about.

"Tell me the last thing you remember before waking," Neville says, taking a seat on the sofa, gesturing for her to do the same. 

Lavender sits on the end furthest from him and takes a deep breath, wringing her hands.

"The Oracle, my new mirror project, exploded when I... lost control of my magic. Denise, oh god, Neville, Denise was with me! I forgot about her when I woke up next to the mirror, but she wasn't there when—"

"Lavender, breath, it's okay. I contacted Severus before I came here. Denise is home with Severus, and he's... taking care of her."

"Oh, thank Merlin. I couldn't have forgiven myself if anything had happened to her because of my mistake."

"Lavender." Neville's voice takes a serious note, and the witch braces herself.

"You and Denise were gone for three months... we all thought you were dead."

"Three months?" Lavender exhales in shock and disbelief. But she knows Neville wouldn't lie to her about something so unbelievable.

"Do you remember anything at all about what happened? Where you and Denise might have been?"

Lavender nibbles on a fingernail as she scans her brain for any strange memories, but nothing comes to mind, and she shakes her head in defeat. 

From the corner of her eye, Lavender glimpses Neville shifting closer. The witch vaults from her seat. She moves to the other side of the room when the urge to tackle the wizard to the couch surges. 

When Lavender turns to face him, Neville is on his feet, seemingly ready to chase after her. However, since she only went to the other side of the room, the wizard pauses and lifts a calming hand.

"Lavender, it's alright."

"No, it's not alright. I knew this was too good to be true. You're not my Neville!"

"I swear on my magic that I'm Neville. I'm your Neville, and I know deep in my soul that you're my Lavender."

"See! That's what I'm talking about! If it really has been three months, then three months ago, you didn't love me or even want me."

"I've always loved you, Lavender. I'm just not sure when I fell in love with you. I see now, that day at the lake was a misunderstanding between us. I'd thought you wanted us to just be friends, but I didn't want that... I wanted more."

Lavender shakes her head and looks around the room. Most of her things are missing.

No one could survive that explosion.

"No," she says, sniffling as the tears return, "no, you're saying the exact things I've always wanted you to say to me. Either this isn't real, or... something's wrong. Suddenly you're kissing me like that, and looking at me that way, and I'm... I... something's not right. I shouldn't be in heat. I just checked my calendar, and even if three months have passed, my mating time passed too. I shouldn't be feeling like this... we shouldn't be feeling like this."

Lavender wipes the tears from her eyes and notices that Neville's moved closer to her when she wasn't looking. She immediately scoots further away around the room. However, Neville doesn't follow her this time and seems frozen to the spot; deep in thought, his lips move, but Lavender doesn't hear his words.

"Neville?"

"In heat... your... mating time?" Neville turns to look at her, his confusion obvious. "Lavender, are you saying what I think you're saying?"

The witch feels the pit in her stomach widen.

"Neville knew of my mating time since that evening when he saved me from those group of wizards."

Neville tries to approach her again, and again Lavender backs away. The wizard sighs his frustration.

"Lavender, how well do you remember that night?"

"Quite well, if you must know."

"Then you remember that the moon was full then."

Lavender frowns as she thinks back to that evening. "Now that you mention it, I do remember because my mating time and the full moon syncing had never happened before..."

The witch trails off as realisation hits, and Neville nods at her questioning glance.

"I thought those men were gonna hurt you because I had assumed that they stupidly thought you were going to transform. But now you're saying..."

She can see that Neville is unsure of what to say, so Lavender finally explains it.

"When my mating time comes, my body produces some kind of hormone that... that gets me really... aroused. Plus, I release some kind of pheromone that tends to drive unmated men into wanting to have sex with me."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Neville nods his understanding as he keeps a polite distance from the spooked witch who bolts every time he tries to get near.

"Is that what you think is happening now?" he asks.

Lavender nods with an ashamed look in her eyes, and he runs a hand through his hair as he assesses his current reaction to her. 

Neville can admit that he's very much aroused by her, but Lavender has always had that effect on him. Now that the wizard thinks about it, his reaction to her pre-bond break wasn't typical. Ginny had been the only one to arouse him sexually until Lavender came into his life. However, he had never been tempted to act on it until after he'd scrubbed Ginny from his soul.

"Lavender," he begins gently, "do you trust me."

"Of course I do."

Heartened by her unhesitating declaration, Neville carefully moves around the sofa between them.

"Then trust that I'd never hurt you intentionally, and never like that."

The wizard holds out his arms to her, but though he can see her need for comfort, the witch hesitates, wrapping her arms around herself.

"I know you'd never hurt me, Neville. The problem isn't you, it's me... something's not right. It wasn't as obvious when I just woke up, but now... I feel different. I'm not the same, Neville, and it's scaring me."

His arms still held aloft, Neville takes one step toward her and stops... waiting.

"I love you, Lavender and nothing's gonna change that. That means that we'll figure out what's different together, and no matter what we find, know that I'll never leave you. You came back to me when I'd just given up hope. Hope that I'd see you again, hold you once more and finally show you how much I love you. I don't need any other signs to tell me that we belong together, and that's how we'll face this. Together, because you're my Soulmate, Lavender. We might not have a soulmate bond like others, but I know there's no one else for me, only you... if you'll have me-"

Neville catches her by the waist as Lavender runs over and jumps into his arms. With her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, Neville holds his witch closer. The wizard revels in the fact that she's in his arms, alive and loving him as much as he loves her.

His eyes close in bliss as she rubs her face against his, and their foreheads touch.

"I love you, Neville."

Opening his eyes, Neville leans away to look into hers, blinks as they change colour before returning to their usual cinnamon-brown.

"I love you too."

With no more need for words, their lips find each other.

Soon, they'll have to liaise with Severus and Denise; questions need to be answered. For now, the pair slowly and tenderly explore their new relationship. Knowing heart and soul that this is meant to be.

The End

Chapter Text

Once, a very long time ago, when the Earth was still a darling, growing fledgling, a warrior and a sorcerer met. Some would think, by accident, others would think, by fate.

"If I didn't know better, Brother, I'd think we were all heading for your slaughter and not your betrothal." Neothane laughs at the pained look that crosses his brother's face. "It should gladden your heart to know that the Princess is a rare beauty."

"You mean apart from the fact that she has been a half-wit since the age of fifteen?" Soren grumbles under his breath, needlessly, as the men, women and some of the children riding behind them are gifted with enhanced hearing. Thankfully, only a few of their party are within hearing range. Neothane sends him a reassuring glance before giving Soren a gentle pat on the arm.

"Come, Brother. Not much further to go before we stop to camp."

"Lead the way, little brother."

"By one day, Soren!"

The men behind them chuckle to themselves at the usual teasing between the brothers. Their eyes fixed on the thicket of trees and vegetation all around in case of a possible ambush.

Less than an hour later, the group made it to a clearing for a campsite large enough for their band. The women sit with the children cooking a feast for their group as the men secure the area. 

Suddenly, a woman draped in strange attire barrels through a yet-to-be-defended side of their camp. Her eyes are wide with fear as she comes to a stop in front of the women and children. Some distance behind her, and rapidly getting closer, is a snarling beast, heading straight for them.