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Chapter Text

“I’m going to die alone,” Neville grumbles, leaning on his hand as he stabs his straw around his nearly empty drink. It’s been weeks since his break-up with Hannah, and he just finally got the energy to go out with his friends. His group of mostly coupled friends, who all looked sickeningly happy. It was nice when he was also in a happy relationship. At least, he thought he was.

“It’s just a lapse, Neville. You’ll find someone new, someone who will treat you the way you deserve,” Hermione says with an encouraging smile.

“Easy for the lot of you to say,” Neville huffs. He takes another sip from his drink, frowning at the watered-down alcohol.

“I may… know somebody you might like,” Draco offers hesitantly. Neville scrunches up his face.

“Thanks, mate, but I’m not into blokes.” Malfoy rolls his eyes at the assumption. Not one of their friends had batted an eye when he and Harry ended up together. Once they were able to put their past behind them, they quickly found out that they got on quite well; they weren’t the same, not even close, but their pieces fit. Though supportive, Neville still seemed to get confused, namely when he had consumed too much alcohol, apparently forgetting one of them might know somebody who wasn’t queer despite half their table being straight.

“Well, that’s great because she is,” Draco emphasizes the pronoun, tone turning pompous before he corrects himself. “She’s also a recovering ponce. Thought to be fair, she figured it out long before I did; she wasn’t even speaking to her mum when the war was ramping up. Granted, she was also in a different country. She went to Beauxbatons. Her mum would not allow her daughter anywhere near Hogwarts. She’s a little odd, a bit of a hippie, but you were with Lovegood, so I figure that’s a non-issue.”

“You’re dancing around the important bit, Draco,” Harry says. Draco narrows his eyes, pinching his boyfriend on the side.

“You tell him if you’re so eager, darling, it was your idea after all.”

“She’s your cousin, dear.” Neville raises a curious eyebrow.

“Er, that’s the caveat, she is my aunt Bella’s daughter.” Silence falls over the table at the admission. All eyes seem to be focused on Neville, waiting for his reaction.

“Absolutely not,” Neville states firmly, taking a long sip from his watered-down ale. He was not nearly toasted enough for this conversation.

“I told you,” Draco says, turning daggers on his boyfriend. Harry just rolls his eyes.

“Look, Nev, she is a really great person. She’s a preschool teacher, and she volunteers all of her free time, from muggle soup kitchens to post-war rebuild efforts. Draco had actually introduced us during the rebuild of Hogwarts. Not to mention, she is obsessed with gardening, figured you two would have that in common, her yard looks like a jungle. As for the recovering ponce bit,” Harry fixes his boyfriend with a stern look before turning back toward Neville, “it’s not a blood purity thing, more so I think just a rich kid thing. She just gets a little whiny when things don’t go her way, a trait she and Draco share.”

“Git,” Draco grumbles into his glass. Harry looks at him with a crooked grin.

“She could be a bloody saint for all I care, I don’t think I could even look her in the eyes knowing what her mum did to my parents.” Irritation itches its way into Neville’s tone. Normally, he would not be so quick to anger, but the liquor loosening his tongue is making reason seem a bit out of reach.

“If it helps, she favors her father’s genetics,” Draco tries hesitantly. Even he can see this conversation is a lost cause, but Harry had been so adamant about finally bringing her up to him.

“Don’t care. Why would I try to date the daughter of the woman who single-handedly ruined my life?”

“Neville,” Harry starts sternly, “that’s hardly fair. Now you don’t have to agree to meet her, but she didn’t do anything. She was just as much a victim of the war as anyone else here, and she has been doing anything and everything she can to try and make up for it.” Harry’s tone remains steady, but a redness is creeping up his neck. A gentle squeeze on his knee draws his attention back to Draco. Ever since going public with their relationship, Harry tended to get a bit touchy when it came to the topic of the children of Death Eaters. Too many people feel comfortable passing judgment on something they have not even tried to understand.

“If it helps, she’s right fit, and that accent,” Blaise adds oh-so-helpfully from the end of the table. Draco narrows his eyes at him.

“You are allowed nowhere near my cousin,” he spits. Love Blaise as he might, his friend goes through relationships like a revolving door. Not to mention, he is annoyingly suave, and part of Draco is a bit scared his cousin might get hurt. She is not nearly as calloused to heartbreak as Blaise.

“As you’ve mentioned,” he says, tone wistful. Harry’s tense form relaxes, watching in amusement as Draco tries to burn a hole in Blaise’s skull with his eyes.

A jingle rings through the shop, signaling a new customer. A wild set of blonde curls is the first thing Neville notices as he looks toward the front of the shop. They’re thrown into a half-hazard bun with an orange and blue paisley-patterned scarf holding them in place. She’s wearing a bohemian-style green dress, arms covered in bracelets of varying shapes and sizes. Her eyes flick about the shop in admiration, not even glancing toward the register until Neville clears his throat. “Can I help you with anything?” he finally speaks up after observing the woman for far too long. He makes his way around the counter as ocean-blue eyes focus on him.

“Oh! Yes, I was sent here to find some red roses and apple blossoms. Why my cousin can’t do his own shopping for his boyfriend is beyond me,” she says with a tinkling laugh, a distinct lilt to her voice. Neville pauses. She’s French.

“The uh, roses are just this way, and apple blossoms are here,” Neville says, eyeing the woman carefully as he points out the flowers. She doesn’t appear to notice his discomfort, or maybe she doesn’t care; she just prattles on as she observes the flowers.

“His boyfriend doesn’t even understand flower language, so why he continues to try and push it on him is beyond me. Honestly, apple blossoms, could he be more cliché?” she giggles, her voice fond as she speaks of her cousin.

“You’re Carina.” It wasn’t a question; he honestly didn’t even need to say it. The irony of apple blossoms for the Chosen One is not lost on him.

“I am,” she says, only appearing mildly surprised at the acknowledgment. A friendly smile quickly stretches her lips. “Are you a friend of Draco and Harry’s?” she inquires excitedly.

“Something like that,” Neville grumbles, heading toward the front counter with a much sourer mood than he had minutes prior. He knows he is being childish; he is actually quite close with the aforementioned couple. He even helped Draco curate the first bouquet he’d ever bought Harry, but he had told the git no to meeting his cousin, and Draco, of course, cannot even begin to fathom the meaning of such a word. Carina blinks at the mood shift, tilting her head at the man walking away from her with tense shoulders. She follows after him.

“What did Draco do?” she asks, knowing her cousin all too well.

“Nothing,” Neville answers too quickly, wanting nothing more than for this conversation to be over with.

“Well, you’re not acting like it’s nothing. Look, I know he can be a prick, but he really is trying his best. I could have a word with him if he’s said something or-“

“No, just, no. Actually, don’t even tell him we met.” She freezes in her tracks at that, taking a few cautious steps back.

“Very well,” she bristles as his anger shifts in her direction. “I’ll just tell him I forgot to stop,” she says, failing to hide the hurt in her tone, as she makes her way toward the entrance. Only when the bell above the shop door dings does Neville finally allow his shoulders to drop. Silence in the now-empty shop becomes deafening, and guilt begins to nibble at him. She really had not done anything other than try to fulfill a task her cousin had requested; she had no way of knowing who Neville was. ‘I’m a prick,’ he thinks glumly.

“Draco Malfoy, what in the hell was that?” Carina yells as she barges into her cousin’s flat. “Oh, good morning, Harry. How are you?” Her tone turns sweet as she catches sight of his unruly mop. His lips have barely parted to respond when Draco enters the room.

“Morning, Carina.”

“Don’t you ‘Morning Carina’ me, Draco. What the hell was that?” She gestures at the door as if the scene she had just fled lies on the other side.

“You didn’t bring the flowers?” Draco asks, looking at her empty hands. Carina fixes Draco with a glare.

“No, I didn’t bring your bloody flowers,” she grumbles, grimacing slightly as she turns toward Harry with a quickly muttered apology. “I stopped in the shop you mentioned, only to get the cold shoulder from the shop worker almost the second I opened my mouth. Apparently, someone you know, because he knew who I was before I could even catch a glimpse of his name tag. He acted as if my mere existence was a burden upon his day.” Now crossing her arms, putting all her weight on one leg, she almost resembled Narcissa when she was cross with Draco in his youth. Draco’s expression is somewhere between shock and apprehension.

“You didn’t at least warn her?” Harry huffs, looking at the other man incredulously. His boyfriend was bloody brilliant, but sometimes, he still struggles a bit when it comes to social cues. To be fair, Harry is only minutely better.

“She wouldn’t have gone!” he defends, arms flying in the air at his exasperation.

“Warn me about what?” she asks, her tone carefully calm. A shudder runs down Draco’s spine at the shift. The only thing scarier than an angry Carina was when she was angry and calm. Plotting his demise, most likely. Draco flounders for a moment before Harry cuts in.

“That wasn’t a shop employee. It was the shop owner. Our friend Neville. Longbottom,” Harry explains tentatively. Regardless of his careful tone, the effect is immediate.

“That was Neville?” Carina gasps, whipping to face her cousin with a glowering expression. “You sent me to his shop? His safe space? What the bloody hell is wrong with you?” she yells, distress clear on her face. “Oh, my Merlin, I cannot believe this, cannot believe you. You’re supposed to be his friend! Why did you think that was okay?” Carina looks betrayed.

“We are friends, that’s the whole point! He was lamenting about how he was going to die alone, and I brought you up because I thought you two would be compatible, but he shut it down when I mentioned who your mother was. I thought he might change his mind if he met you. Apparently, I was wrong.” Draco looks particularly sour at the admission.

“Draco, you prick!” she huffs, eyes wide in disbelief. “You sent me to that poor man’s shop, probably traumatizing him, because you thought we might hit it off?” She knows her cousin is a bit emotionally dense when it comes to other people’s emotions, but this is new territory entirely.

“Yes?” Draco answers questioningly, clearly oblivious to the dilemma taking place. “Relax, Carina, it’s not like you traumatized him by just showing up. The man survived a literal war. I hardly think you’re the worst thing he’s seen.”

“No, but my mother was,” she stresses, eyes cold. She rarely refers to Bellatrix as her mother, but in this instance, it is important. She needs Draco to understand why this is so wrong. Something so mundane to him may be life-altering for someone else. He has grown a lot since the war, but empathy is something he still struggles with quite a bit. “I can’t believe you. I cannot, I just-“ Carina’s voice cracks, hot, angry tears rolling down her face.

“Carina-“

“No, I cannot look at you right now,” she huffs, spinning on her heel, her skirt flowing around her dramatically. “I’m never stepping foot in Diagon Alley ever again,” she huffs. “I can’t believe you,” she repeats once more, softer this time, mind reeling.

“Cari, wait!” Draco calls, chasing after her as she stomps out the front door. Harry remains seated on the couch. At least Neville would be spared their other shared quality: a flair for drama, though Carina’s normally came from a more humanitarian perspective. When Draco finally comes back inside, he is brandishing a bright red handprint on his cheek.

“Well, that went well,” Harry says, tone dripping with sarcasm. Draco flicks a stinging hex at him. “Hey!” he shouts, jumping from the couch.

Draco is quiet as the rest of the group chatters on about their lives, their weekly meeting taking the form of brunch at Hermione and Ron’s. It’s only after about twenty minutes of him doing nothing but pushing food around his plate that one of them finally says something. “What’s your problem, mate?” Ron asks around a mouthful of food, pointing at Draco’s still-full plate. Draco doesn’t answer, just shoots a disgruntled look at Ron.

“He’s upset because Carina still isn’t talking to him,” Harry says with an eye roll. It has been a week since the incident, and Draco is not taking her silence well.  Normally, they were in nearly daily contact, chattering on about things the other party never understood via floo-call. The silence this week has been deafening.

“Really? We just had lunch together yesterday, and she didn’t mention anything. She was being a little weird, though. What’d you do?” Ginny asks, looking curiously at Draco as she lowers her fork. Draco throws his arms up in the air.

“Why does someone always assume I did something?” he asks. Hermione raises an eyebrow, and he crosses his arms, leaning back in his chair. “I sent her to Neville’s shop to pick up flowers last weekend,” he grumbles. At this, everyone turns their eyes toward Neville, who is now also shoving his food around his plate and avoiding eye contact. “I thought maybe if he met her, he might be able to get past who her mum was. I guess I was wrong, and now she’s pissed at me for making her ‘traumatize the poor bloke.’” Draco does not like admitting it when he is wrong, and the pain this conversation is causing him is obvious.

“You know how she is, takes everything her parents did personally. I told him to just give her time. She’ll come around. Never been one to hold a grudge, unlike some people,” Harry says, looking pointedly at Draco.

“Ha ha, Potter, you’re hilarious,” he deadpans.

“I wasn’t traumatized,” Neville says finally, drawing everyone’s eyes back toward him. “Just felt kinda ambushed,” he murmurs, still refusing to make eye contact.

“Well, with the way she screamed at me, one would have thought I was orchestrating your execution,” Draco says, arms flailing about as he talks. Harry smooths his hands over his shoulders gently. Running his hands down the length of his arms, he attempts to still his limbs.

“Draco, I feel you’re being a bit dr-“

“Don’t say it,” Draco snips, wrenching his hand free to hold a finger to his boyfriend’s lips. Harry rolls his eyes, shoving his hand away before turning back toward Neville.

“She truly did enter your shop clueless. When she got to the house and started in on Draco, I filled her in on who you were, and she looked mortified. Claims she is never stepping foot in Diagon Alley ever again, so she doesn’t risk further traumatizing you with her presence,” Harry explains. “Her and Draco also share their dramatics- ow!”

“I told you not to say it.”

“So that’s why we had to go to Hogsmeade for lunch,” Ginny says, understanding in her tone. “I suggested that new Italian restaurant in Diagon Alley and suddenly she hated pasta and anything else Diagon Alley had to offer, insisting on going to the Three Broomsticks.”

“I wasn’t trying to scare her,” Neville huffs, his shoulders slumping.

“You didn’t scare her,” Harry says, waving his hand as if that were pure nonsense. “She just has a big heart and a guilty conscience. She’s ridiculously empathetic, which we probably should have taken into account before sending her to your shop.”

“Oh, stop it, Harry. You had no idea, I sent her there without telling her anything,” Draco huffs, before turning to face Neville. “I’m sorry for ambushing you. I truly thought I was helping,” his words sound bitter, but he does look sorry. Neville shrugs.

“S’alright. I may have overreacted a bit,” he admits, scratching at the back of his neck. With anger no longer pushing his narrative, the whole ordeal at the shop feels even more ridiculous. He would never treat a customer like that, dark mark or not, and Carina had been nothing but pleasant. Her open grin when she placed Neville as a friend of Harry’s and Draco’s flashes to the forefront of his mind, and his insides twist with guilt. He had all but watched the radiance in her composure die in front of him.

“What happened exactly?” Ginny asks, eyeing Neville warily. She’s hunched forward over her plate, food forgotten as she awaits his answer.

“It- I saw her come in. I asked if she needed help, and she jumped into talking about how she needed to pick up some roses and apple blossoms for her cousin’s boyfriend because apparently, he couldn’t be bothered to do his own shopping. I was suspicious as soon as she started speaking and I heard the accent, but then she commented on the irony of buying apple blossoms for said boyfriend, and it was quite obvious who she was. I clarified and she confirmed it with a smile, asking if I was a friend of Draco’s and Harry’s. I got annoyed because obviously Draco had sent her and we had just had that whole discussion the night before, and I may have overreacted,” Neville sputters awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. This felt no better than being chastised by McGonagall. Even as his boss, she still manages to instill the same fear in him as she had when he was a child with nothing more than a narrowed glance.

“What did you say?” Ginny pushes, arms crossed as she stares hard at Neville. This tone of conversation has shifted from confessing to interrogating. Ginny just barely appears to be holding onto her tongue.

“She could tell I was irritated and kept pushing, asking what Draco had done, saying that she could have a word with him. I told her no, don’t even tell him we met, which clearly, she still did, and then she left in a bit of a huff.”

“Neville, that was rude,” Ginny huffs, her expression properly annoyed. He sighs.

“I know,” he grumbles, cheeks red as he puts his fork down.

“No wonder she was so quiet. I need to go talk to her,” Ginny sighs, pushing her plate away and heading toward the floo. “I’ll see you guys later,” she says over her shoulder, chucking a handful of Floo Powder and speaking ‘Starshine Botany’ sternly. She disappears into the green flames; a final exasperated look is shot at Draco and Neville before she disappears.

A few days later, Draco appears to be in much higher spirits. Carina had finally flooed him after a long chat with Ginny. She is still upset and refuses to set foot in Diagon Alley, but they are speaking again. At the next gathering, the group decided to meet at their favorite café, a beige building with one-way glass windows surrounding the whole front area. It made people watching from the inside much easier to do without judgment. This time, instead of sulking mutely, he chatters away with Hermione and Ginny, hands moving animatedly as he speaks. “Is that-oh- oh no,” Hermione comments as she spots a familiar head of nearly-white curly hair entering the building.

“Carina!” Ginny exclaims, spotting the other girl as she enters the café. Said witch is smiling brightly as she returns Ginny’s enthusiastic wave with matching exuberance. The moment she spots the rest of the group is prevalent, her hand drops to her side, and any trace of vibrancy drains from her expression. Her eyes meet Neville’s, and without a second of hesitation, she spins on the spot, her dress floating around her at the swift motion, heading straight out the door she just entered. “What? Oh,” Ginny says, turning to the group with a confused look before her eyes land on Neville.

“I barely even looked at her!” Neville exclaims defensively.

“You didn’t have to, honestly, she’d probably prefer you didn’t. She said she doesn’t want to disturb your peace. I just hope she doesn’t start avoiding Hogsmeade now, Muggle food isn’t nearly as good,” Ginny whines at the end, face scrunched as she takes a sip from her coffee.

“She’s allowed to exist around me,” Neville huffs. While he was not exactly open to the idea of dating her, that did not mean she needed to avoid even being within his line of sight.

“Not according to her,” Ginny says, her tone sad. “Did I tell you she thanked our mum for killing Bellatrix? Once I had told her what happened during the final battle, she was so eager to meet our mum. I didn’t fully trust her yet, and neither did Ron, but Harry did. He talked to mum, and she invited Carina over for dinner. Mum barely had the chance to introduce herself before Carina threw her arms around her, muttering thank yous into her shoulder while bordering tears.” Ginny sniffles at the memory. “Had us all shell-shocked, even mum. I haven’t questioned her motives since.”

“Bella hated when Carina started to form her own opinions,” Draco adds, leaning forward as he lowers his tone, “She wanted Madame Maxime’s head on a stick the first time Carina stood up to her. She was convinced it was Beauxbatons corrupting her child. So much for ‘saving her from Hogwarts,'” Draco scoffs.

“She turned out amazing for someone who was raised by that psychopath,” Ginny says, quickly casting an apologetic look at Draco. He waves his hand in front of him, brushing away the nonverbal apology with a small smile.

“You’re not wrong. Did she tell you about the summer Bella found out she had a crush on a Muggle?”

“Oh no,” Ginny grimaces. Draco nods grimly.

“Bloke’s lucky he got to live, Bella obliviated him so he wouldn’t remember anything from the moment he met Carina. Then, gods, she cursed her for so long that Carina could barely walk for the next week,” Draco looks physically pained at the memory. Harry tightens the arm around his waist. “That was when she got that scar on her eyebrow. She had fallen to the ground when Bella Crucio’d her, screaming about how no daughter of hers would be a blood traitor. I can still hear her head cracking against the stone; it was awful. She made an example of her daughter, her own flesh and blood, in front of everyone. My father was bad, but he was never Aunt Bella bad. She was clinical,” Draco finishes with a sour look.

Neville’s thoughts start reeling as the group continues exchanging stories. Suddenly, he feels like an outsider, an unwelcome intruder, as they swap stories about someone he had not even known existed last month. He had not even considered her youth. His brain immediately jumped to Carina acting like a carbon copy of Bellatrix, following her around like an obedient duckling, her beliefs just as nefarious as her mother’s. The thought had not even crossed his mind that she would have suffered as well. Trying her best to be good, punished for anything that didn’t align with her mother’s beliefs. ‘I’m an absolute bloody bigoted piece of trash,’ he thinks morosely, the slow, consistent trickle of guilt bursting in him like a broken dam.

“I feel bad,” Neville finally admits after two rounds of Firewhiskey. At Draco’s raised eyebrow, he clarifies, “about Carina. I feel like she’s altering her whole existence just so I don’t feel uncomfortable. I don’t want her to feel like she needs to do that, it’s not fair, it’s not like she did anything other than just exist.” It’s been a couple of days since the café incident, and Neville has spent a concerning amount of time reflecting on their interaction. Every time there was a lull in customers or the shop bell dinged too suddenly, Neville was struck with the memory again.

“I’ve already tried telling her that,” Draco sighs.

“So have I,” Harry adds.

“And me and Hermione,” Ginny tacks on.

“I’m not allowed to talk to her,” Blaise follows. Draco glares at him.

“As far as Carina’s concerned, she may as well have cast the spell herself. This isn’t the first time she’s done something like this. Bellatrix left a lot of damage in her path. It took her forever to feel comfortable even being in the same room as me. She still looks like she wants to cry whenever she sees my scar, and I was fully aware of who she was when we first met,” Hermione says, absentmindedly scratching over the slur etched into her wrist. Ron covers her hand with his own, and she smiles gently at him.

“I get it, I fucked that up, can we please stop bringing it up,” Draco pouts. Harry wraps an arm around him, pulling his chair closer so Draco can bury his face in his shoulder.

“I had to initiate almost the entire first year of our friendship,” Hermione says, ignoring Draco and looking pointedly at Neville. Her meaning is clear.

“I could talk to her?” he suggests hesitantly.

“She won’t meet with you,” Draco says, his voice slightly muffled by Harry’s shirt.

“What if we brought him to her?” Ginny asks, and Draco’s head shoots up. Their eyes meet, a silent conversation taking place. They appear to reach the same conclusion before Draco turns toward Neville.

“How do you feel about pottery?” Draco grins. His wicked smile, paired with the sudden mood change, feels oddly menacing. Neville quirks an eyebrow.

Chapter Text

“I thought Harry said she was a preschool teacher?” Neville questions, looking at the building hesitantly. It’s unsuspecting amongst the other shops. Draco said the muggles called it a strip mall. It was just a series of shops, tucked into the same red brick building, each with a separate door on the front.

“She is, but it’s not really a full-time gig. She runs these pottery workshops in addition to teaching, as well as dabbling in freelance botany. She likes to keep busy,” Ginny adds helpfully.

“You’re sure about this?” Neville asks, eyes looking solely at Draco.

“No, but it’s all I’ve got aside from showing up at her doorstep. Let’s go,” Draco says, nodding toward the entrance.

“It’ll be fine, Neville, come on,” Ginny grins, ushering him toward the entrance. The bell above the door dings cheerfully as they enter. An earthy smell permeates the building, though different from the one Neville is used to at his shop and the Hogwarts greenhouses. The air is also thick with incense. Frankincense, if Neville’s nose is correct.

“Welcome, you’re just in time, grab a s-“ Carina’s voice dies in her throat, and her smile falls as she turns to greet the newcomers. Ginny grins, waving enthusiastically as though nothing was wrong. Draco at least looks a little sheepish, scratching the back of his neck as they move further into the room. Neville’s eyes are locked on her, and she has to tear her own away, fussing with the trays in front of her and attempting to gather her wits.

Carina curses to herself. She should have known something was up when Draco showed interest in attending. He had only ever been to the Muggle pottery workshop once before, on his third date with Harry, and he spent half the time grumbling about the clay getting stuck under his nails.

“Well, I uh, think that’s everyone,” Carina squeaks, her throat feeling tight. The final three arrivals take their seats. She turns her attention to the front of the room, walking over to her pottery wheel situated there. “You’ll find a sufficient amount of clay under the wheel, use the wire to cut it,” she demonstrates by placing a hunk of clay on her wheel and slicing through it with the wire. She then places the extra clay back into its plastic sheet.

“Today we’re making just a simple plant pot. You’re going to want wet hands for this; there is a bowl of water at each station as well as some sponges to help smooth the piece out. You’re going to center your clay, making sure it is tight to the wheel, before you begin to throw. You’re going to start with a thicker bottom, slowly dragging the sides upward and tapering them out slightly with each pass. I promise it’s not as easy as it looks, just remember to take your time and-“ her voice dies out again as she finally looks up at the others and immediately locks eyes with Neville. She shakes her head, clearing her throat before continuing, “And uh, and j-just remember patience is key. It’s okay if you mess it up. That’s the nice thing about clay; you can just start over.” She smashes her half-constructed pot as an example before she begins shaping it again. “If anyone needs any help, just let me know,” she says, pointedly looking anywhere but at the group seated near the back of the room.

Muttered words and the churning of the wheels are the only noises heard as the attendees focus on the task at hand. Ginny and Neville manage to make at least a semi-sturdy-looking piece. Draco’s, however, is lopsided. Not mildly, either. Any soil attempted to be placed within would most likely tumble right back out of the receptacle. He grumbles as he’s attempting the same piece a fourth time, about muggles and their ridiculous inventions.

Carina notices his struggle from across the room and sighs. In any normal circumstance and she would have been over there during the second attempt, offering encouraging words and any assistance they might need. Begrudgingly, she makes her way toward them. “Draco, dear, you’re supposed to be shaping the clay, not manhandling it,” she chastises gently as she nears his table. Her voice is quiet and calm despite her racing pulse.

“I don’t know how anyone is supposed to work with this infernal device,” he huffs, flicking a clay-covered hand at the wheel.

“Weird, because you did just fine with the trinket tray last time,” she hums suspiciously. She is used to her cousin’s antics, as well as his insufferable need to have things go his way.

“Well, those were mostly flat,” he argues unconvincingly.

“I believe I told you wet hands work best,” she says, standing over his shoulder. “Flatten it, try again, and remember to rewet your hands. Work with the clay, stop trying to force it too fast,” she explains, willing the shake from her voice. She can feel Neville’s gaze burning a hole in the side of her head.

‘It’s fine, I can make it through this,’ she thinks as she chews at her lip. She becomes lost in her thoughts as she verbally guides Draco while he shapes his piece. Luckily, instruction in this project did not require much thought. When he finally has a passable piece, she takes a step back. It takes her a moment to realize that everyone was done, staring at her as they wait for further instructions. She walks toward the front. Distance is currently her only defense.

“Amazing, everybody’s pots look fantastic. Now we are going to load them on these trays to dry. They do need to dry entirely before I can work on the first round of firing. When you all return next weekend, though, we should be able to move on to glazing our pieces. Now, using that same piece of wire, separate your piece from the wheel and use the scoring tool to carve your initials on the bottom of your piece. Be gentle and carve closer to the wall so you don’t puncture through the clay. Draco, give me that,” Carina sighs, watching as he ignores her instruction, hand poised over the dead center of his piece. A couple of the others snicker as she makes her way over, grabbing the tool from his grip and leaning over his piece. She carves the word ‘PRAT’ on the bottom before walking back to the front.

Ginny cackles as she catches sight of it. “This was just as much your idea as it was mine,” he grumbles, arms crossed.

Ignoring the bickering pair beside him, Neville carefully carves his initials, preceded by ‘I’m sorry,’ carved is his questionable penmanship. He wasn’t even sure if she would see it amongst the dozen other pieces. There’s a bustle of movement as everyone places their pieces on the trays, doing their best not to bump into one another. Carina lingers along the edge, gently nudging any pieces she thought might be lingering too close to the edge. Neville places his just so, nothing obnoxious, but enough that he knew she would probably have to adjust it eventually.

It's quite obvious she’s avoiding the area until he leaves, not even so much as glancing in his direction. For a moment, Neville debates saying something, anything. Ultimately, he decides against it, hunching his shoulders a bit as he shuffles back over to Draco and Ginny. Carina moves over to the area he has abandoned. She adjusts the pieces there, her eyes catching as she shifts his. Ocean blue eyes glance up at him, and for just a moment, her expression is soft and unguarded.

The tension is broken as Ginny grabs him by the arm, prattling away about something he cannot quite seem to focus on. Her eyes, filled with something so open and earnest, fog his vision. Only once they’re outside does his focus snap back to the present.

“What was the point of that, exactly? She barely looked at me. How was I meant to apologize?” Neville questions as the bell above the door announces their departure.

“This was just part one. Carina is a bit… complex. She refuses to go anywhere she considers your space, so bringing you into hers was just kind of testing the waters. Draco made it out alive, so that’s a win,” Ginny states, managing to keep a straight face for only a moment.

“You helped orchestrate this!” Draco squawks, earning a cheeky grin from the ginger.

“Yes, but I’m her best friend.”

“I’m her cousin! We literally share the same bloodline!”

“Bloodlines don’t really mean much to her, which you should know.”

“… touche, Weasley,” he huffs in an admission of defeat. A radiant grin spreads on Ginny’s lips, a slight skip in her step that has Draco rolling his eyes.

Neville breathes out. All things considered, he feels like today went well enough. Sure, he had not spoken to her, but she also had not blatantly turned him away. She was nervous, however, that much was clear. Anytime she met his gaze, her movements became stilted, and she would stutter a bit before managing to block out his presence again. That look she gave him at the very end, though, was something different. It was enough to light a small spark of hope in his chest.

-

The next weekend is decidedly worse. The trio entered the building a bit later in the evening, the set time for the glazing portion of her workshop. That same earthy smell is there, but the Frankincense has been replaced with Patchouli. Ginny hisses through gritted teeth when she finally catches sight of her friend. Her curls, though always wild despite her efforts to work with them, are now frizzy and mussed. She’s pacing the front of the room, dark circles heavy under her eyes.

“Well, this will be interesting,” Draco comments casually as he walks into the room. Carina’s eyes flick toward them and she pauses her pacing, eyes flittering over their faces, before continuing as she had, gaze focused on the ground.

“I’m going to go talk to her,” Ginny says as she walks away from the two men and over to Carina. She looks up just as her friend approaches, eyes wide in surprise. Their voices are hushed, but whatever Ginny is saying does not seem to be providing much relief to the other witch. If anything, she appears more panicked. With a few wild hand gestures, Ginny finally seems to relent, meeting the two men at their stations. “She’s inconsolable.”

Draco sighs heavily. “What now? She did fine during the last one.” And Harry calls him dramatic.

“Yeah, to be fair, we didn’t really give her time to panic, but now she’s spent all night fretting about what our possibly ulterior motives could be.” Panic strikes Neville, eyes flicking toward her while Draco’s face drops. He should have known better than to listen to a former Slytherin, reformed ponce or not.

“Ulterior- is she serious?” Draco huffs, voice tight. He crosses his arms and turns his gaze to the front, where Carina has moved to start fussing with the glazes, shifting them around aimlessly.

“I really don’t think this was a good idea,” Neville breathes shakily, noting the obvious distress in the witch’s form. She has made it a point not to look in their direction, but he can’t look away, an awful twisting in his gut. He was trying to make things better, not worse. Draco ignores his comment.

“Well, did you tell her why we’re here?” Draco asks, a singular eyebrow arched.

“I tried, but she’s not hearing me right now,” Ginny explains with a heavy sigh. The interaction is clearly weighing on her, guilt itching its way onto her face as her eyes keep flicking toward the front. Draco rolls his eyes.

“Why are you all so nice? It is exhausting,” Draco moans as he stands from his seat. He grabs Neville by the collar of his shirt as he passes. Surprise on his side, Draco drags Neville behind him, directly toward where Carina is still fussing with the glazes. “Rearranging them for the dozenth time still doesn’t change the fact that we’re here,” Draco comments once he’s stood behind her. Carina jumps.

“I’m not- I wasn’t-“ her excuses fall dead in her throat when Neville looks at her.

“This is bloody ridiculous, and I’m putting an end to it. Come on,” Draco says, grabbing her arm in his free hand and dragging them both.

“Draco, what are you-“

“Go in there, have a conversation, then come back and teach your damn class.” Draco releases his hold on Neville’s collar to swing the door to the back room open.

“It’s a worksh-“

“I don’t care,” Draco huffs, shoving them both inside and shutting the door. Ginny stares at him, slack-jawed, as he sits back down. The others in the class appear to be in a similar state.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” she whispers, looking between Draco and the closed door in mild alarm.

“She wouldn’t hurt a fly, and Neville is a giant teddy bear riddled with guilt, no one is going to be physically harmed,” he explains with an eye roll, inspecting his nails.

Silence encompasses the backroom. For a long moment, the two stand there, just staring at one another. Anxiety and tension are thick in the air. Finally, realizing she is not going to turn and run, Neville releases a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry,” Neville frowns, finally breaking the silence.

“For what?” Carina sighs. Her shoulders slump in defeat. She does not sound angry, but she sounds far from happy.

“All of this, to start. I didn’t mean to stress you out so much, especially at your job, but Draco was convinced this was the only way to get you to talk to me without showing up on your doorstep, and that really felt like overstepping.”

“Of course, this was Draco’s idea,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes, “prick never did know how to respect boundaries.”

“No, really, it’s my fault. I’ve felt terrible since the whole flower shop fiasco, and I just wanted to apologize-“

“Neville, you have nothing to apologize for,” she sighs, and Neville stares at her incredulously for a moment. Is she serious?

“I-yes-yes I do. I acted like a complete arse,” Neville sputters, still staring at her disbelievingly.

“You were blindsided. Obviously, Draco had told you who I was, and you had no interest in meeting me, which is entirely fair. I never wanted to force my presence on you. He hadn’t warned me that it was your shop, or I never would have stepped foot in there. I tried to convince him to take a bouquet from my garden, but he was so adamant on flowers that he knew I didn’t have. I know how Draco is, I should have questioned his motives more, but I thought he was just being his normal picky self.” Her tone is almost pleading, as if begging Neville to see she was trying her best. One part of her explanation stands out, causing Neville to raise an eyebrow in question.

“What do you mean you never wanted to force your presence on me?” he questions. Guilt stains her features.

“I- this isn’t the first time Draco has brought you up. I knew who you were, vaguely, just not what you looked like. I always asked Harry before attending anything they invited me to if you were coming. I didn’t want to upset you with my presence, not that I look much like Bellatrix, and I definitely don’t act like her, but I’m still her blood, no matter how much I despise that fact. They insisted that it would be fine, but I did not want to take that chance.” Carina’s eyes are earnest, pleading, and shining with unshed tears. She falls silent again.

She had been avoiding him for longer than he even realized. The guilt he has been feeling for the past couple of weeks has just increased tenfold. She had been trying to avoid Neville. Had even gone so far as to avoid hanging out with her friends, their friends. Draco had tricked them both into meeting. Sure, Neville had been annoyed with the Slytherin, but Carina looks downright distraught. On top of everything, she somehow believes she deserved the treatment she received.

“Carina, I wasn’t scared or traumatized or whatever it is you’re thinking. I was annoyed with Draco. Plain and simple. I should not have taken my irritation with him out on you. I hate that you are going so far out of your way just to avoid so much as possibly running into me because you think it makes my life easier. You have done nothing wrong. My reaction was unwarranted. I felt like a prick as soon as you exited my shop. Our friends have spoken nothing but high praise of you since the whole fiasco. I feel like a complete arse. I was hoping you would accept my apology, and maybe we could start on a clean slate? I would like to at least try and be friends, if you would want to that is,” Neville finishes sheepishly. That was not exactly what he had planned on saying, but it felt fitting. The ghosts of his past were not her burden, and he should never have made her feel as such.

“You want to be friends?” she asks, tilting her head at him endearingly.

“Yes, i-if you want, that is,” he responds hesitantly.

“And you’re not just saying this because my cousin is a nosy prick?” she asks, tipping her head in the opposite direction. Neville barks out a laugh, covering his mouth quickly. A small smile quirks the corners of her lips.

“I mean, he is, but no, that is not why. So, what do ya say?” he questions, stuffing his fidgety hands in his pockets. She observes him for a moment, eyes focused intently on his face as she chews on her bottom lip. Her expression softens after a moment, apparently finding whatever it was she had been looking for.

“Okay,” she huffs out a heavy breath.

“Yeah?” he questions, letting a smile stretch his lips.

“Yeah,” she smiles back, nodding her head. “We should probably get back,” she adds, nodding her head toward the door.

“Right, yeah, sorry. I wasn’t planning on interrupting your class,” he apologizes.

“Oh, trust me, I know,” she laughs, eyes looking slightly brighter. She opens the door and steps into the main room. “My cousin is the git with boundary issues,” she says loudly as they emerge from the storage room. She flicks her eyes in Draco’s direction, but the bastard just looks smug. Prick.

“Sorry, again,” he splutters, and she smiles softly at him.

“You’re fine, go take your seat,” she says, nodding toward his workstation. Nodding his head in response, he quickly scurries to his seat, doing his best to ignore the stares from the other participants. Before either Hogwarts alumni can begin questioning him, Carina claps her hands together, drawing everyone’s attention as she begins laying out the rules for glazing their pieces.

Chapter Text

“Hey Neville,” Carina greets hesitantly as the brunette sits across from her. It had taken a couple of weeks, but Harry and Ginny had finally convinced her to join one of their group outings. It was nothing crazy, just a Friday night at the pub to unwind from the week, something the group did at least twice a month.

“Hey Carina,” he smiles at her, and she smiles back. Down the table, Ginny and Hermione exchange an excited look. While Draco may have been the only one bold enough to suggest his cousin as a possible love interest directly to Neville, he was not the only one who thought it. Out of everyone, Ron had actually been the first to bring it up, vaguely mentioning how she reminded him a bit of Luna after listening to her ramble on about everyone’s auras one evening.

“Carina, finally come to join us for pub night?” Blaise grins as he saunters up to the table. Draco follows behind, flicking his friend on the ear as if he were a dog. Depending on the day, Draco may argue that he was. He grabs the open seat at Carina’s side, eyes narrowed at Blaise.

“I have, and I am under firm instruction to steer clear of Blaise Zabini,” Carina answers with a teasing grin.

“Poor bloke doesn’t know what he’s missing,” Blaise sighs, holding a hand over his heart as he looks wistfully off in the distance. Draco frowns. Carina laughs, looking even more delighted at Draco’s discomfort.

“Oh, it’s all in fun, Draco, don’t get your knickers in a twist. He wouldn’t keep pushing if you didn’t get in such a huff about it,” she says, poking at his side. Draco flinches away from her prodding fingers, attempting to use his hands as a barrier. “Besides, everyone knows Blaise isn’t my type.”

“Hey! What’s wrong with Blaise?” Blaise gasps dramatically.

“He’s an obnoxious flirt. Didn’t you hear he had a date last night?” she asks in a stage whisper, as if announcing a scandal, still pretending she isn’t speaking to said individual. Blaise furrows his brows as genuine confusion crosses his expression, his flirty façade dropping instantaneously.

“How did you-“

“Xavier and I had brunch this morning.”

“Wait, you know Xavier?”

“Of course, I know Xavier, we were in the same year. He seems quite taken with you, by the way,” Carina smiles as she takes a sip from her drink. It was endearing the way he had prattled on about the other man. She hadn’t even realized it was Blaise he was talking about until halfway through their meal when he’d finally stopped talking long enough for her to ask him for a name.

“As he should, I’m a catch,” Blaise says with a grin. Carina laughs, and Draco visibly relaxes at finding out about Blaise’s apparently successful date. Blaise was nothing if not loyal, and even if short-lived, he would never even attempt another fling without at least notifying his previous partner. Carina is safe for now.

“Draco, are you sure your cousin is straight?” Neville asks, watching as she and Ginny are laughing as they dance to a song, dipping each other back and twirling one another about. The two look remarkably comfortable. The last time he recalled seeing a woman so openly tactile had been his ex with her best friend, and well, that had not ended in Neville’s favor. It was the week before he found out that the two women were more than friendly behind closed doors.

“Oh, showing an interest now, are we?” Draco asks, resting his head atop his hand.

“It was just a question,” Neville murmurs, ears red as he turns back around to talk to Hermione. Draco taps him on the arm, drawing his attention again.

“I am quite sure she is straight, Neville, and I am quite sure you are exactly her type. Hence why I made the suggestion to begin with. Not to mention you’re the only single bloke I know that I’d trust around her,” he says as if the answer should have been obvious. Neville flushes a bit at his words, mumbling something unintelligible before turning back toward Ron and Hermione.

Carina hiccups after downing her shot, and Draco laughs. “Oh no,” she says, hiccupping again and groaning.

“Think that’s your sign to stop,” Draco says, sliding her other drink away from her. She doesn’t even argue, just pouts as another hiccup escapes. Neville watches the exchange, the same thing he’s been doing most of the night. He was annoyed to admit that Draco was right, because the obnoxious prat did not need an even bigger head, but the more he sees of her, the harder it he has found it not to like her. Her ability to light up a room with her laugh was enough to have him staring at her half the night.

“Neville, you’re staring,” Carina accuses, followed by another hiccup.

“Sorry,” he flushes, turning his head to the side. There really is no point trying to deny it. He had been caught red-handed. He just hopes his face was not portraying his thoughts openly. To the right of Carina Draco hides a smirk under his tumbler glass.

“No, it’s okay,” she says, leaning on her hand to stare openly at him. Neville flushes under her gaze. Another hiccup escapes, dislodging her head from her hand. They both start laughing. Draco and Hermione share a glance behind her back, one that Carina misses, but Neville is not quite as oblivious to. His ears turn pink at the implication.

“Son of a-“ Neville grumbles as he spots a dark beetle sitting atop the leaves of his Asphodel. The plant had started a rapid decline over the last few days, but this is the first time he has seen a sign of any insects near the plant. With a sigh, he begins shifting the soil around, groaning when he sees the white larvae attached to the roots.

“Oof, vine weevils,” Carina tsks over his shoulder. “Mix some nematodes into your soil. They’ll take care of the larvae at least, but I’m sure you already knew that,” she flushes, backtracking quickly. They’re standing in the Hogwarts Herbology Professor’s plant shop, of course, he must know more than her on this topic.

“Last time I tried that, I ended up with soil-transmitted helminthiasis. It worked for the plant, but I would rather not repeat that trip to St. Mungo’s,” he sighs as he begins picking the annoying pest from the roots of his plant, being careful not to damage the hair-like strings branching from the main root. Carina shakes her head, a fond smile on her lips.

“You just have to make sure they’re the right ones. While they will all work for the plant, the Heterorhabditis bacteriophora species don’t like anything with warm blood,” she explains excitedly. It was not often she got to share her plant knowledge with someone who actually knew what she was talking about. Draco would sometimes pretend, but they both knew he was clueless.

“I… didn’t know that.” Neville looks almost… impressed. Carina flushes slightly, quickly turning toward the front of the shop to hide her reddening cheeks.

“Learn something new every day,” Carina shrugs, feigning casual. “I could pop home and grab some of my soil, if you’d like. My false asphodel’s soil should be pretty close,” she rambles, already stepping toward the door.

“Uh yeah, I’d appreciate it, thanks,” he says, watching after her retreating form. He really shouldn’t be surprised. Ginny had mentioned that the other woman dabbled in her own freelance botany business. Draco’s nagging voice echoes in his head. Bloody fucking know-it-all, Neville thinks to himself as he continues picking at the roots of his withering plant.

“Sooo…,” Draco drawls, looking pointedly at Neville. Carina is busy harassing Harry by the grill, prodding him with questions about the Gillyweed he had consumed during the Triwizard Tournament. Harry is attempting to retell as much as he can remember while also keeping an eye on the ribs he swears are almost ready. Draco thought Harry was insane when he wanted to purchase the Muggle appliance for an egregious price, but even he had to admit the food was good. He especially loved the lamb chop Harry had cooked on it earlier in the week.

“Shut up,” Neville huffs, a small smile playing on his lips as he toys with the edge of his glass.

“I’m not saying I told you so,” Draco says with a grin.

“Good,” Neville responds shortly, knowing the Slytherin alumni better than to believe him.

“She mentioned she’s been hanging around your shop a bit,” Draco adds with a knowing smirk.

“She has,” Neville confirms, eyebrow still raised suspiciously. Carina, even with her limited free time, manages to stop into the shop about every other day. Her presence always seems to brighten the atmosphere, leaving Neville a bit morose once she takes her leave.

“Talks about you quite a bit, honestly. If I am forced to hear how brilliant you are one more time, I might start to hate you again.” Neville laughs at that, cheeks red at the statement.

“She’s pretty brilliant herself, actually helped me get rid of the vine weevils on my Asphodel without a St. Mungo’s trip this time.”

“Not to mention she is so-“

“Don’t,” both Neville and Draco warn in unison.

Instead of looking annoyed at being chastised, Blaise grins widely. “Is Longbottom getting territorial?” His eyes light up with excitement, leaning toward said individual, looking like a cat who just got the canary.

“I hate Slytherins,” Neville groans, dropping his head back on the chair.

“But apparently not their offspring,” Blaise mutters as Carina turns to walk toward them. Neville hits him on the shoulder, jostling him slightly, and he cackles.

“Do I even want to know?” Carina asks, taking her seat beside Neville and sipping from the glass she had left there.

“No,” Neville and Draco answer in unison.

“You know Carina probably would have been a Slytherin if she went to Hogwarts,” Blaise comments off-handedly, smoothly transitioning their conversation. Both Neville and Draco turn toward Blaise with a gob-smacked look. “What?” Blaise asks, looking between the two confusedly.

“Are you mad?” Draco chuckles after a moment. “I have never met more of a Hufflepuff in my life,” he snorts. Carina looks on at the conversation with her head tilted and eyes squinted. Neville bites back a snicker at her adorably confused expression.

“I don’t know what we’re talking about, but that feels like an insult,” Carina frowns, crossing her arms as she looks between Draco and Neville.

“It’s not,” Neville comforts her, “Hufflepuffs are known for being loyal, fair, and also harboring a strong sense of justice. You kind of just… embody all of that,” Neville explains, a red hue tinging his cheeks are he finishes his explanation. Carina smiles sweetly at him, a similar shade coloring her cheeks as she takes another sip from her drink.

“Well, I suppose that’s alright then,” she mumbles, glancing up at Neville through her lashes, her glass still pressed to her lips. He feels his heart begin to race. Oh, I am so fucked, he thinks, yet he cannot quite bring himself to care.

At their next pub night, everyone is there. Ginny, Carina, Ron, Hermione, Harry, Draco, Seamus, Dean, Blaise, Pansy, Theo, and even George. It is a bit overwhelming, especially as everyone tries to talk over one another, but mostly, Neville is excited to see all his friends again. All his friends that are catching on far too quickly that his feelings for Carina are something more than platonic. To say he has a crush feels juvenile, but he did not know what else to call it. Every time she smiles at him, butterflies stir restlessly in his stomach. After Hannah, he really should be more guarded; he should not be falling this fast, but Neville has never been one to safeguard his emotions.

She had left for the bar to order a drink, and Neville just watched her as she walked away from the table, surely looking like a creep. “Alright, Longbottom, what the hell is going on with you and Draco’s cousin?” Seamus pushes, his Irish lilt thickening as he downs his second drink.

“I er- huh?” Neville feigns oblivious, a flush rising in his cheeks.

“Honestly, if I have to sit here and watch you two bat your eyelashes at each other all night, I’m going to hurl,” Pansy grimaces, still sipping on her first drink of the evening. At that, his face heats further.

“I think it’s sweet,” Hermione says, smiling encouragingly at Neville. Draco snorts from her other side.

“You would. I think it’s ridiculous.” He has more to say, but his voice fades into background noise as Neville looks back up to the bar. A man is leaning on the countertop, not too far from where Carina is standing, eyeing her openly. He’s tall, muscular, with a carefully styled head of brunette curls. Neville waits with bated breath as the unknown man debates approaching her. Before he can work up the courage, however, Carina is smiling brightly at the bartender as she accepts her drink and slips away.

“I just love Genevieve; she is the sweetest. The bartender at the Hogs Head is not nearly as pleasant,” Carina hums as she takes her seat. After a sip of her alcohol, she jumps suddenly, turning toward Neville with bright eyes. “Oh, Neville, I almost forgot, how’s your Asphodel doing?”

Just as Neville opens his mouth to respond, the brunette from the bar sidles up to their table. He’s the first to notice, barely masking a glare as the man approaches.

“Excuse me,” the stranger interrupts, standing just behind Carina. She tilts her head confusedly as she realizes Neville is not answering her question, noting his suddenly sour expression, before finally turning toward where his gaze is pointed.

“Are you talking to me?” she blinks, her facial expression blank as she looks at the man behind her.

“I uh, couldn’t help but notice you from across the pub and I was wondering if you’d let me buy you a drink,” he says, all straight white teeth and charming smile. Neville looks away from the exchange, an awful twisting in his gut that he tries his best to ignore. He has no right to be jealous.

“No, thank you,” Carina says, not even sparing him a second glance. Neville blinks in surprise.

“Well, if you change your mind-“

“I won’t,” she states firmly. She doesn’t spare him a second glance, turning back toward her drink.

“Fair enough,” he says, holding up his hands in defeat before retreating to his corner of the bar with his figurative tail tucked between his legs. Neville’s emotions are stuck somewhere between smug and terrified. Would that be how Carina would react if he asked her out? Did she respond that way because he was here?

“Jeez, Carina, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that cold,” Seamus laughs. She shrugs.

“I wasn’t interested. I’m here to visit with my friends, not be hit on by a stranger,” she explains simply, looking entirely unbothered.

“Weren’t you just complaining last week- ow!” Ginny yelps as Carina’s foot connects with her ankle. “Don’t kick me,” she huffs, rubbing at the sore spot on her abused flesh.

“Don’t air my private life,” she retorts. Curiosity itches painfully at Neville’s brain. Carina moves on quickly, though, turning her eyes toward Neville once more. “Sorry about that. Anyways, your Asphodel?” she queries again, as though they had never been interrupted.

“Much better, thanks to you,” he smiles. The grin she returns is radiant, her blue eyes sparkling at the small praise.

“Glad I could help,” she responds cheerily. Draco mutters something not quite audible that has Harry, George, and Ron stifling laughter. A stern look is set on Hermione’s face.

“Neville, if you like Carina, you’re going to have to say something,” Harry whispers as her and Ginny step away from the table, whispering and giggling as they head toward the restrooms. Neville flushes, scratching the back of his neck.

“I-I didn’t, I don’t-“

“God, Nev, are you stuttering? Are we in third year?” Seamus comments loudly from his side. Neville shoots him a dirty look, eyes flicking to where the two girls just disappeared to make sure they were not overheard.

“You’ve been looking at her like she hung the stars all night,” Dean comments from further down the table. Neville crosses his arms.

“I can’t,” he argues, his voice much smaller. Harry looks observantly at him for a moment before speaking.

“This is about your parents.”

“Of course it is,” Neville huffs, face falling into his hands with a sigh.

“Longbottom, I thought we were past this,” Draco sounds annoyed with the admission. They practically turned his cousin’s pottery workshop into one of those Muggle drama shows Harry is so fond of all so Neville could apologize to her. Now is not the time for another crisis.

“We were, we are, it’s just… I feel guilty,” Neville shrugs, picking at his nails.

“Oh, my gods,” Draco groans, and Hermione smacks his shoulder with the back of her hand.

“Be nice, Draco,” Hermione huffs with an eye roll.

“I am being nice, Granger. I won’t let Zabini anywhere near my cousin, and here I’m trying to help Longbottom and- ow!” his rant is cut off with an indignant squeak as Hermione reaches between them to pinch his side. The frown on his lips deepens as his boyfriend snickers into his drink. A second later, Harry sputters on the liquid as Draco reaches over and pinches his side.

“You keep throwing around surnames, I’m going to confiscate your whiskey,” Hermione warns. Draco snatches his tumbler up in a swift motion, narrowing his eyes at the threat. Hermione’s tone turns gentle and encouraging as she turns to face Neville. “Why do you feel guilty, Neville?”

“I can’t exactly talk to my parents about this, well, at least not where they would understand. I introduced Luna to them, and it was nice. I know they didn’t understand, but she was so kind to them. Hannah and I never quite got that far, but I would feel awful asking that of Carina, she already feels so bad without having to see,” his voice is quiet, barely heard above the chatter and music playing around them.

“Shit, this got deep,” Draco huffs, unsure of what advice to offer because Neville did have a valid point. Hermione looks as though she is about to say something, but instead bites her tongue as the two girls return, laughing hysterically. Ginny is barely able to walk straight, and Carina has tears in her eyes as she clings to the other girl’s arm. The tension from the table lifts slightly as everyone’s eyes shift from Neville to the two girls.

“What’s so funny?” Harry asks, smiling at the two as they try to compose themselves. At the question, they only laugh harder, or more aptly not at all, the only thing escaping them is a wheeze of air as they fight to take a breath. Despite himself, a grin stretches Neville’s lips, and he allows his dark thoughts to be chased away at least momentarily.

“Why are you always so quick to grab her drink when she starts hiccupping?” Neville asks curiously as Draco snatches the glass straight out of Carina’s hand. A frown stretches her lips, but she does not move to argue.

“The hiccups are a warning sign,” he responds, sipping off her glass and scrunching his nose at the sweet drink. “Is that lavender?” Carina mumbles an affirmative, propping her head up on her hand.

“Warning sign?”

“Yes, unless you want to be cleaning sick off your shoes. Until those hiccups stop, she is cut off.”

“Draco, you’re embarrassing,” Carina says, trying to fix him with a glare. The effect is ruined as she fails to suppress her next hiccup, nearly jumping from her seat with the force of it. Draco and Neville start snickering, and she whines, laying her face on the table. “I *hic* hate you.”

“I’m sure you do, Cari, I’m sure you do,” patting her on the head as he speaks, Draco narrowly avoids an elbow to the ribs.

“Go away,” she hiccups again.

“No,” Draco responds simply, taking another sip from her glass.

“You know *hic* what? Never mind, I’ll go away,” she says, rising from the table with a huff, wobbling slightly as she stands. She frowns at her unsteady stance. Apparently, the alcohol had taken more of an effect than she realized.

“Carina, sit down,” Draco huffs exasperatedly. If she tries to apparate home in her current state, she’s going to end up splinched, and nobody needs that.

“No,” she mocks Draco, arms crossed in front of her. The picture she resembles is similar to an impetuous child. Just as she turns to walk away, Draco grabs the back of her dress. “Let me go,” she huffs, smacking at his hands.

“Neville, help please,” Draco says, looking at the other man pleadingly.

“Neville can’t-“

“Carina,” he tries, drawing impossibly blue eyes toward his own. Her words die in her throat as she looks at him. “Can you pretty please sit back down? At least until you can stand straight. You’re going to hurt yourself trying to get home in your current state, and we would all feel terrible if you ended up injured,” Neville’s voice is calm and sweet, concern lacing his tone, his eyes pleading with her. With nothing more than a frown cast over her shoulder in Draco’s general direction, she flops back into her seat.

“I’m sitting because I want to,” she spits sharply in Draco’s direction, managing to stave off her hiccup until the end of her sentence.

“Whatever you say,” Draco says, rolling his eyes as he downs the rest of her drink. Neville has to fight back a laugh. This is the first he’s seen of the attitude Draco warned him of the first day he brought her up, and even pouting in her seat, just past tipsy, all he can do is smile fondly at her. A small smile quirks her lips as she looks up at Neville. It quickly dies when she notices Draco watching them with an amused smirk.

“Good morning, Neville,” Carina greets excitedly as she spots a familiar figure waiting off to the side of the café counter.

“Good morning, Carina,” he greets, matching the bright smile on her lips. Her heart stutters in her chest, and she only looks away when the barista at the counter clears his throat. Jumping as if she had forgotten where she was, her bright smile turns toward the man with the light brown hair working the till.

“Morning, Carina, the usual?” the barista greets with a grin as she walks up to the register.

“Yes, please, Andy, thank you. How’s your mum doing?” she asks as she hands over her payment.

“Uh, she’s been better, but she’s home now, so we’re grateful for that,” he says, a slight blush reaching his cheeks as her hand brushes against his. The coins rattle together as he tosses them into the drawer.

“Oh, that’s fantastic! I do hope she has a quick recovery, heaven knows she’s dealt with enough. How are you holding up?” she asks, eyes earnest as he hands back her change.

“I’m managing,” he shrugs. The weak smile on his lips betrays him, and Carina pats his hand encouragingly.

“Well, I do hope things turn up, for everyone’s sake. Wish your mum the best from me, yeah?”

“Of course, Carina.” Neville watches as Carina steps toward him to wait for her drink. He also notes how the barista’s eyes follow her every movement, even as he pretends not to.

“Getting ready to open the shop?” she asks with a grin, her attention now fully on Neville. He nods his head with a little more vigor than necessary in an attempt to shake the previous interaction out of his mind. Carina is so sweet and genuinely caring, it has to be hard not to fall for her at least a little. He’s not even exactly sure when it happened to him, so he can’t really blame the other bloke. “I would come bug you today, but I am unfortunately busy all day today,” she frowns.

“Neville!” one of the baristas calls. He steps forward and grabs his coffee with a smile and a quick thank you.

“That’s alright, what have you got on the schedule today?” he asks as he steps beside Carina again.

“Well, from here I have a couple orders I have to drop off, then I am headed to help with a fundraiser at the animal shelter, then I have to pop in the pottery shop to turn up the temperature on the kiln, and then I told my neighbor I’d help her with her garden, she can’t figure out why her roses keep dying, and then I have an evening volunteer shift as well,” she lists the events off on her fingers, squinting as she nears the end, trying to remember if there was anything she was missing.

“I- wow,” Neville says, looking at her in surprise.

“Carina!” the barista she had been chatting with calls. She takes the drink from him with a grin, wishing him well, before turning to face Neville again.

“I know, full up today. Maybe I could swing by for lunch if you’re not busy?” she offers hesitantly, taking a careful sip from her tea. He pretends not to notice as Andy shoots him a dirty look over the bar.

“If I’m not busy? I’ll just be moseying around the shop, but Carina, you really don’t have to; it sounds like you have a lot on your plate today.” Despite the woman’s busy schedule, she always made a point to stop by and visit him, even if it was just a quick hello as she was passing through Diagon Alley. The awkward stage of their friendship had not lasted long once they realized how much they had in common. They had quickly fallen into a new rhythm, one that Neville realizes he’s going to miss far too much when he returns to Hogwarts for the school year.

“I know, but I like spending time with you,” she pouts. He feels his insides warm at the comment, and he can’t help the grin that breaks out on his face.

“If you want to stop by, I will gladly welcome the company. You are always more than welcome, but if you’re too busy, that is entirely understandable,” Neville says. He feels guilty sometimes about how much she goes out of her way just to spend a little time with him. His schedule was quite barren in comparison.

“I’m never too busy for you,” she says, as though it should have been obvious, and Neville’s heart thumps against his chest as they turn to leave the café.

Neville’s at the grocery store when he spots her. Hannah Abbot is perusing the tinned goods, and Neville quickly attempts to make himself scarce for fear of being spotted. As he turns around, however, another familiar voice rings out.

“Neville!” Carina calls excitedly as she sees him, waving enthusiastically. He flushes, ducking his head a bit as he waves back. Her shawl slips from her shoulders in her hurry to get to him. “I tried to find you earlier, but you weren’t at the shop. Elanor was very nice, though,” she smiles, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Yeah, sorry, I would have said something had I realized you were coming. I had to check in on the plants at Hogwarts, then had a couple of errands to run,” he says, holding up the basket in his hand.

“That’s alright, just glad I bumped into you,” she smiles, eyes so focused on him in that way that makes his heart flutter.

“Me too,” he smiles back. A strange look passes over Carina’s face before she turns her head sharply, directly toward Hannah. She scrunches her face slightly, her smile faltering, before she looks curiously, if not cautiously, back at Neville. She steps closer, her breath ghosting over his ear as she leans in.

“I don’t mean to alarm you, but the woman down the aisle is watching us and she looks pissed.” Neville almost snorts at hearing the word slip past her lips. He could count on one hand the number of times he has ever heard her curse. He probably would have barked out a laugh if anxiety did not currently have his stomach in a vice grip.

“I uh- she’s my ex. Just spotted her before you walked up. I was really hoping to avoid her.” The urge to glance in her direction, to see what Carina was seeing, is hard to resist, but Carina’s wide-eyed stare makes it slightly easier.

“The one that cheated on you?” Any trace of a smile is wiped from her lips as she glances back in Hannah’s direction.

“Yeah,” Neville flushes. Draco must have lent her that detail, because he does not recall ever talking about Hannah in front of her. Honestly, he avoids mentioning the topic of dating in general around Carina. He feels a bit juvenile, avoiding the subject. Despite Draco’s claims, he still hesitates to tell Carina exactly how he feels. He has a habit of giving his whole self in a relationship, and he is still trying to pick up the pieces Hannah had left scattered in the wind.

A pensive look crosses Carina’s face for a moment before she leans back. She watches him closely, observing his face before appearing to decide on whatever she had been debating. “What are you doing after this?” she asks, nodding toward the basket in his hand.

“Uh, just gotta stop back at the shop to close up. Why?”

“The trellis for my sweet peas is damaged, and I’m quite rubbish with repairs. I was hoping you might be able to help?” she questions sweetly before quickly adding an addendum, “I would ask Draco or Harry but last time Draco performed magic anywhere near my garden he wiped out every last one of my Marigolds and I fear his boyfriend is no less of a brute when it comes to the strength of his magic.” Neville blinks in surprise at the topic change.

“Oh, um, yeah, I should be able to help.”

“Thank you! You are the best,” Carina smiles excitedly. “I can show you the new Flutterby bushes I just bought, they are just stunning,” Carina links her arm through his, leading them away from the aisle as she chatters on. “I think next, I’m going to try to get my hands on a Dirigible Plum sapling. Their growth pattern is so interesting, and I miss the desserts avec prunes dirigeables they used to serve at Beauxbatons. C’est magnifique. Have you ever had them?”

“I can’t say I have; they offer them pickled at Hogwarts during some meals.” Neville’s face scrunches slightly at the memory. He had not tried them since his days as a student. They never were his favorite.

“Pickled?” Carina gasps, looking aghast at the mere concept. Neville can’t hold back the laugh that escapes him at her scandalized expression. “Non, I have no doubt they are exceedingly better as a tart. Who pickles a fruit?”

“Well, they’re technically a fruit, but really they taste more like a radish.”

“Well, probably if you pickle them. We’re remedying this as soon as possible. I refuse to let that be your only experience of them when they have the full capability to be absolutely delightful. Pickled? Honestly,” Carina scoffs. She turns her nose up in a notion that truly shows her relation to the Malfoy name. Amid their ridiculous debate, Neville forgets all about the nerves that had haunted him by the tinned goods and the presence of the woman who had caused them.

Chapter Text

“Hey Nev?” Carina starts softly, and he flinches. Her tone is careful. They have avoided the topic of Hannah since the whole debacle, but he can hear the hesitancy in her tone. It was only a matter of time, but he really had hoped that time could have stretched just a bit longer, if not infinitely.

“Hm?” he questions, busying himself with pruning his Mimbulus Mimbletonia. Her gaze burns the side of his face, but he refuses to meet her gaze. He’s not ready for the sympathy. He’s heard enough stories in the past months about others with partners who had cheated on them. It did little to soothe him, quite the opposite, honestly. The fact that there were so many people who wronged their partners made him feel a bit helpless. It wouldn’t have mattered what he did differently. People cheat, break hearts, for no real reason. Something broke inside of him when he first realized that.

“You have the warmest aura I’ve ever seen,” she responds, her voice still careful but firm. He pauses, blinking up at her in surprise.

“Huh?” His confusion is prevalent, but she only smiles gently at him. It isn’t accompanied by eyes full of pity, but instead eyes so full of something he can’t quite place, but it makes his insides melt.

“Your aura. All pinks, oranges, reds, and yellows. It’s warm. With the reds, well, it’s quite easy to see you’re passionate about the things you enjoy. It makes sense that you ended up with your own plant shop. The orange whispering along the edges shows that Gryffindor courage you deny having. The yellows shine every time you’re happy, looking a bit like sunshine. Your pinks have faded in the last few days, though. I know she hurt you, but I hope you don’t let her ruin that part of you. It’s not often people display that part of themselves so openly. It’s my favorite part of you,” she finishes quietly. Blue eyes are observing him, once again, so focused he feels his face flush under the attention.

He stares dumbly, unaware of how to respond to her observations.

“Do you want Chinese for dinner? I’m craving a spring roll,” she says, changing the conversation as she reaches into the drawer behind the front counter where she knows he keeps the take-out menus.

“Uh, sure,” he swallows, watching her closely. She hums contentedly, finally finding the menu she had been hunting for and dancing slightly to herself as she scans it over. His heart is in his throat, pulsing and preventing any more words from coming out. Once again, he’s struck by how effortlessly beautiful she is. She is captivating in an entirely unintentional way. Her ability to care so much about everyone and everything has to be exhausting, yet she makes it seem so effortless, as if there were no other answer.

“Happy early Birthday!” Carina calls excitedly as she nears the large group crammed around the pub table. Harry smiles at her.

“Thanks, Carina,” he says. Her face scrunches when she looks around.

“Where’s Neville?” she pouts.

“I don’t think he’s coming tonight,” Harry answers hesitantly.

“What?” she frowns, looking thoroughly put-out at the new information. Pub night just so happens to fall on his birthday, and he isn’t coming?

“It’s not exactly an easy day for Neville. I’ve gotten over it mostly, thanks to this lot. Neville never really has, though. He tends to spend most of his day at St. Mungo’s and then just kind of hides away for the rest of the evening.”

“Well, that’s not right,” she sighs, heading toward the floo. No one asks where she’s headed.

“He really isn’t a social one on his birthday, I’m just warning you,” Harry says. She nods her head.

“I can work with that.”

“What is she going to do?” Harry questions, raising an eyebrow at Draco.

“Not sure, just hope Longbottom doesn’t muck it up again.” Harry elbows him, chuckling.

“He’s properly head over heels for her now, don’t really think we need to worry about that,” Harry smirks. Draco snorts.

“They’re sickening,” he huffs. His pseudo-annoyance paints a grin on his boyfriend’s face.

“You love seeing them happy, you big softie,” Harry states, teeth grazing pale skin as he nuzzles Draco’s neck. Draco tries his hardest to bite back a smile, but his efforts are in vain.

“You’re insufferable.”

“Neville!” Carina calls as she exits the floo. She brushes the soot off her shirt, newly acquired paper bag in hand. Silence envelopes the flat. All the lights are off, not a sound to be heard. That is, until the bedroom door creaks open.

“Carina?” Neville questions, looking absolutely pitiful as he emerges. His eyes are rimmed red, his form slumped. “I’m not really-“

“I brought you some takeout, your favorite,” she says quickly, holding up the bag and waving it enticingly. He doesn’t move.

“I’m rotten company right now,” he frowns, leaning against the door frame. A large, fluffy blanket is draped over him, making him look much softer and smaller than normal.

“I don’t care,” she shrugs, setting the bag on the coffee table. “Besides, your company is always good company,” she smiles again, walking toward him. He watches her as she steps closer. Her hand reaches out, grabbing his. He doesn’t fight it as she leads him toward the couch.

“Why aren’t you at pub night?” he questions as she starts digging through the bag.

“Because you aren’t there,” she answers simply, as if that were the easiest answer in the world. He doesn’t respond; once more, he finds himself not quite sure how, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She places the food on the table, and Neville squints.

“How many places did you go?” he questions curiously at the array of different containers.

“Just a couple. Got all your favorites. Egg rolls from the Chinese place near your shop, risotto from the small Italian restaurant in Hogsmeade, and chips from the stand down the road.”

“… this feels like an odd combination of food.”

“Maybe,” she shrugs, popping a chip in her mouth, “but food doesn’t have rules.” He snorts at that, and she beams at the reaction.

They eat their meal in mostly silence. At the end, Carina grabs the abandoned bag, smiling shyly. “Now, don’t hate me,” she says quietly.

“Don’t think I could if I tried,” he comments, glancing at her curiously.

“I know Harry said you don’t like celebrating, but everyone deserves cake on their birthday,” she says, holding up the cake slice in its plastic container. “It’s red velvet, Ginny said it’s your favorite,” she continues shyly.

“You really didn’t have to do all this,” he sighs. His eyes are tired, but he does look a smidge happier than when she arrived.

“I don’t have to do anything. I wanted to. I like spending time with you, and when Harry mentioned you tend to lock yourself away, I couldn’t bear the thought of you sitting at home all by yourself on your birthday,” she emphasizes, nudging his knee with her foot.

“It’s not exactly a day of celebration for me,” he says carefully, eyes averted to the ground. He hates bringing up his parents around her. She already feels guilty enough.

“They would want you to enjoy yourself,” she says smally, hesitantly. “I don’t know a lot about them, but from what I heard, they were great people.”

“They were,” Neville sniffles, blinking back another round of tears.

“You wanna tell me about them?” she asks quietly. He blinks at her through teary eyes. For once, her guilt seems to have taken a backseat to her emotions. That same look is back, though, that indecipherable expression that makes his heart skip a beat.

“Yeah,” he breathes.

So, that was how they sat for the next few hours. Neville recounts any and all stories he has heard from his family about his parents. There’s laughter and a few more tears, but Carina listens intently, as if trying to cling to every detail she can remember. At some point, their positions shift. Neville’s head rests on Carina’s lap as she cards her hands through his hair. He is mid-story about an outing his uncle Algie had taken his father on the year he graduated from Hogwarts, when he drifts off to sleep, the whirling emotions finally catching up to him. Carina smiles as his mumbling speech turns into light snores. Her heart feels so full she fears she may burst as she looks down at him, resting soundly, comfortable enough to let down his defenses and let her in to this hidden part of him.

“You should hate me,” she whispers, tears brimming in her eyes, “but I am really glad you don’t.” She spent an indeterminate amount of time just watching him, the way his chest would move when he breathed, the small sounds he would make, all of it nestling warmly in her chest. Eventually, she drifts off, fingers still carded through his hair.

On one of the blessedly cooler days toward the end of their summer, the group decides to have a picnic in a park on the outskirts of Diagon Alley. They treated it as a sort of potluck, each person contributing their own dish. “Neville!” Carina calls excitedly as she spots his arrival. Hermione, Ron, Dean, and her had just finished laying out the large, checkered blanket, staking the corners to help hold it in place.

“Hey Carina,” he smiles as he draws near. As soon as he sets his platter down on the checked blanket, she pulls him into a tight hug. Over her shoulder, the other three exchange a look, one he’s seen far too much recently.

“Hey,” she says quietly, a wide grin stretching her lips. Her arms are still wrapped around his shoulders as she looks up at him, resting her chin on his chest. A crack sounds behind them, finally startling the two apart.

“Interrupting something, are we?” Draco asks, eyebrow raised.

“You have a mustard stain on your collar,” Carina responds, ignoring his question entirely. Neville snickers as Draco looks down with wide eyes, only to narrow them a moment later as Carina walks away whistling.

The others arrive at staggered times over the next hour. Carina greets them all with a wide grin, firmly planted on the blanket next to Neville. The only time she moves is when Ginny appears, jumping up to greet the other woman excitedly.

“Are you going to bloody do something or just keep staring at her like a lovesick idiot?” Draco questions quietly. Before Neville can bite back a response, Carina is back at Neville’s other side, still chatting animatedly with Ginny. “The latter it is,” Draco hums, taking a sip of his butterbeer. Neville narrows his eyes but says nothing more.

 Seamus is the last to arrive. Dean chastises him as he takes his seat. “I told you we should have come over together; you’re always late.”

“It takes time to look this good,” Seamus argues half-heartedly.

“No, it doesn’t,” Dean huffs, eyes rolling exaggeratedly.

“Love, if you missed me, you just have to say so,” he smiles cheekily, placing an obnoxiously loud kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek.

“You’re ridiculous,” Dean snorts, any bite lost as he laughs at Seamus’s antics.

Neville looks around once they’re all seated, everyone chattering away as they load food onto their plates. He frowns as he remembers why they’re all here. The start of school is only a few weeks away, and the end of summer with it. What had started as the worst summer of his life took a drastic turn. Now he finds himself dreading the end.

“Why the long face?” Carina asks, concern coloring her tone as she takes in Neville’s downtrodden expression.

“Just gonna miss this when I’m stuck at Hogwarts again,” he murmurs, just loud enough for her to hear. She stares at him for a moment, just long enough to have Neville shift uncomfortably. Sometimes it felt like she was reading him like an open book. He still is not quite sure how he feels about that.

“What happens to the shop when you go back to Hogwarts?” Carina asks Neville curiously after a few moments of silent observation.

“Oh, uh, I have a couple of staff that watch it, and I usually drop in when I can on the weekends,” he shrugs, trying to will the nerves from his voice.

“You ever thought about running it full time?” she asks as she leans her head on her propped knee. Loose curls tumble down, cascading in a way that makes Neville’s breath hitch. She looks ethereal, practically glowing under the summer sun, and it takes him a moment before he remembers she was waiting for an answer.

“I uh- I like teaching. Hogwarts is really a pretty decent gig, especially with McGonagall running the place. The students can be a bit much sometimes, but I genuinely enjoy it for the most part. Just not a big fan of being stuck at the castle most of the time. It’s a bit isolating.” Carina frowns at this. Just as she opens her mouth to inquire further, Hermione’s voice cuts in.

“Oh, that reminds me!” Hermione cuts off whatever conversation she had been engrossed in with Draco and Harry to turn toward the other two. “Carina, are you still able to help out with the ministry fundraiser on Wednesday?” she asks, catching the girl’s attention.

“Of course, Hermione, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she grins genuinely.

“Fundraiser? For what?” Neville asks curiously.

“It’s for St. Mungo’s, but the ministry is hosting it. We mostly just needed a friendly face people would recognize to help boost raffle sales, and considering Carina does volunteer work there, I obviously had to try and steal her away from them for the evening.”

“Oh? I didn’t know that. What volunteer work do you do?” Carina stiffens at Neville’s question. He raises an eyebrow at her reaction and the prevalent shift in the air. She had never mentioned anything about St. Mungo’s; then again, she never really spoke of any of her volunteer work. Mostly, it was just tales of the children at the preschool and her garden. The odd story of her pottery workshop was thrown in sometimes, but those always ended with her blushing as she remembered the ones Neville had attended.

“You haven’t told him?” Hermione hisses, eyes wide as she seems to realize her error.

“Told me what?” he asks, brows laced together as he looks back at Carina. A silent conversation appears to be taking place between the two women. After a moment of this silent exchange of facial expressions and gestures, Carina finally looks at him again.

“I, uh, volunteer in the Janus Thickey ward. Mostly just reading to patients, supplying company to those who don’t get many visitors, donating flowers from my garden.” All conversations around them seem to halt as the others catch wind of the conversation. “It was where a lot of-“ she stops, her voice wavering as she turns her gaze to a loose piece of thread on the blanket. With a steadying breath, she continues, “It was where most of Bellatrix’s living victims ended up. I cannot undo what she did, and I know it’s not a lot, but I wanted to try and help them in some way, however small.”

“How long have you been volunteering there?” Neville’s voice is barely a breath, his heart sputtering in his chest.

“About a year now, ever since I moved back to England,” she mutters, her tone watery. “I didn’t mean to hide it, but Harry had mentioned your parents, and when you decided to try and be friends, it never felt like the right time to bring it up. I didn’t even piece together that you were Alice and Frank’s son until I was chatting with them after the whole pottery debacle. Alice had turned to face me upon hearing your name, a reaction I don’t typically get out of her, and all I could see were your eyes staring back at me.”

“You’ve met my mum and dad?” Neville asks, his voice is still quiet. Carina nods her head, finally meeting his eyes, tears streaking from her own.

“I’m sorry,” her voice is barely a whisper, her bottom lip trembling as she fights back more tears.

“Don’t be,” Neville says, cupping her cheek to wipe away her tears, “That’s actually a relief,” he breathes, smiling gently at her. She blinks, a few more tears falling down her cheeks, as she looks at him in confusion.

“It is?” she asks. Blue eyes are wide with hope and confusion. He nods his head. A sigh of relief slips out of her, and she lunges forward, wrapping her arms around his middle and pulling him in a tight hug. He responds immediately by wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “I was so scared you would hate me,” she mutters, her tears soaking the shoulder of his shirt.

“I could never hate you,” he mumbles into her hair, gently stroking his thumb along her back.

“You should.” Her voice is quiet against his shoulder. He hugs her even tighter.

“Too bad, you’re stuck with me now,” he whispers, and she laughs wetly. He can feel the vibration of it, and his heart thumps in his chest. Vaguely, he wonders if she can feel it too.

“Great, now that that’s settled, will you just bloody kiss her already?” Draco asks loudly from the side, reminding the pair that they had an audience. Carina whips up quickly and looks around Neville to shoot daggers at Draco.

“Draco, he doesn’t have to-“ whatever she was going to say is cut off as Neville shifts one of the arms wrapped loosely around her to cradle the underside of her chin, tipping her head in his direction. She follows his guiding hand almost unconsciously, only looking confused when Neville stops just short of their mouths meeting.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his voice barely a breath against her lips. She nods her head minutely, and they both smile once their lips finally meet. Their smiles quickly turn to laughter as their friends start hooting and hollering.

“Fantastic, I’m very happy for you both, crazy how no one saw it coming. Now, can someone hand me the rolls?” Draco asks, sarcasm dripping from his every word. Hermione grabs a roll from the basket and chucks it at him. Draco gasps dramatically, looking affronted.

“Does he ever know when to shut up?” Neville mumbles, his lips brushing against hers as he speaks.

“Pretty sure he’s incapable,” Carina laughs as Draco lets out an annoyed huff. He can only hold onto his irritation for a moment, though, looking at the happy pair in front of him. Then Harry wraps an arm around his middle, resting his head on his shoulder to plant a kiss on his cheek, and he melts.

“Softie,” Harry chuckles in his ear. Draco smacks playfully at his shoulder.