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A Single White Rose	By : Pat Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 5839 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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The Dungeon

It was a morning filled with surprises for the brown-haired doe-eyed boy. As Neville strolled behind his friends on their way to the Gryffindor/Slytherin double potions class, he heard someone call his name.

"Neville, wait up a bit, there's a lad," said Zabini.

He turned to observe Blaise trying to catch up to him. Neville hesitated and then waited for the taller boy to approach.

As he advanced towards the round-faced boy, Blaise laughed internally.

Neville was looking adorably confused at being singled out by Blaise. Normally, a Slytherin would only stop to torment or trouble him.

The Dungeon hallway was suddenly very quiet as the rest of the crowd had already made their way into the classroom.

"Hello, Neville," said Blaise.

"Err, hello," said Neville.

"Blaise, my name is Blaise," grinned Zabini.

"Yes, alright Blaise. What can I do for you?" Neville said, looking around nervously.

"I just wanted to talk a moment," Blaise said.

Neville screwed up his face in an expression of bewilderment.

"Why?" he said.

Blaise laughed out loud. There was absolutely no artifice here.

"Because I like you," Blaise said with a smile.

As he stood there, Blaise felt a burning desire to see if Neville's peaches and cream complexion was just as soft as it appeared. He reached slowly forward with his hand, so as not to startle the boy, and gently cupped Neville's chin with his hand and stroked his cheek lightly with his fingers. Ah, so it is as soft as I thought it was, he thought to himself.

Neville seemed mesmerized by the touch and stopped breathing.

A sharp voice intruded upon them.

"Mr. Zabini, would you kindly refrain from such disgusting displays in the public hallways," came the sharp voice of Professor Snape, who swept by them in his billowing black robes and attitude and on into the dungeon classroom.

Neville jumped and stumbled a little backward. Blaise only reluctantly removed his hand from Neville's face and gently cupped his hand in the small of Neville's back.

"Come on, Neville, time to buckle down," he said as he gently urged the boy forward.

A disembodied voice came from the classroom.

"And five points each off of both Gryffindor and Slytherin Houses for holding up my class," said Snape.

Blaise winced slightly. His housemates wouldn't appreciate that. Still, he'd found out what he'd needed to know. Neville wasn't at all adverse to him as a potential suitor.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Divination Classroom

Neville sighed and looked down at his star chart. Silly thing. Professor Trelawney came and peered over his shoulder.

"Ah, Mr. Longbottom, let us see what's in store for your future," she said, her glasses slipping down her pointed, narrow nose.

Millicent Bulstrode chose that moment to let out one of her patented horse-like laughs.

Neville squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. Why had she singled him out? This was awful. Ron Weasley rolled his eyes dramatically behind the back of the Professor and Neville relaxed marginally. His mates didn't take this seriously, either.

"Hmmm, I can see you're due for great things, Mr. Longbottom, in the future," she began.

Draco Malfoy sotto voice made a remark that set Crabbe and Goyle laughing.

Neville felt like crawling under his chair. Why didn't the woman just move on and look at someone else's chart?

Completely ignorant of the undercurrents in the classroom, Sibyll Trelawney rambled on.

"You will make a brilliant match in the near future," she said pensively, looking surprised at her own findings.

She picked up the map to study it more closely. Yes, there it was, a powerful astronomical cross current that was occurring, if not now, then in the near future that would potentially enhance Neville's prospects greatly both in his personal and career venues.

Sniggering continued throughout the classroom at a low volume, but Sibyll was so intrigued by what she saw that she was oblivious to the disturbance.

"And you'll be very successful in your chosen field," she said. "You'll be highly regarded."

Outright laughter from Draco Malfoy finally garnered her attention.

"Mr. Malfoy, is there something you wanted to share with the class?" she said, trying to hold on to a little dignity.

The silver-eyed blond sneered lightly in her direction.

"Of course not, Professor," he drawled

Sibyll moved on to Lavender Brown's chart and Neville blew out a sigh of relief.

"Nicely done, my dear," said the Professor with a distracted air.

Neville watched as Sibyll Trelawney squinted through the incense-laden air and stared at Harry Potter. This couldn't be good, he thought uncomfortably. The woman had an almost unhealthy obsession with Harry and often singled him out for her most dire predictions.

As he watched in mounting horror, Sibyll Trelawney's eyes rolled back in her head so only the whites were showing.

The other students were starting to notice their Professor's demeanor as well. Lavender looked eager, Ron looked disgusted and the Slytherins just looked bored.

Softly but then increasing in volume came Trelawney's voice.

"Traitor, traitor, traitor Severus. Death to Voldemort," Sibyll growled out and then her eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed on to the floor.

Several of the girls in the class screamed, including Lavender and Millicent Bulstrode. Neville's skins started to crawl.

Neville, who was closest to the Professor, started to fan her with his star chart. The students all started to gather around the fallen Professor, babbling excitedly.

"Move away from her, you prats. Come on, give her some breathing room," came the calm voice of Blaise Zabini as he pushed back the crowd of milling students.

Neville had gone to get a damp cloth from the nearest boy's lavatory, wrung it out and had just handed it over to Zabini.

"Good work, Neville," Blaise smiled down at him, being five inches taller than the reserved boy.

Neville blushed and muttered a hasty thank you.

Blaise carefully started to wipe Professor Trelawney's face with the damp cloth. She started to stir less than a minute later.

Lavender and Blaise helped the shaky Professor to stand again. Neville watched as Professor Trelawney and her helpers moved away from his desk area, and then, in passing by Harry, stopped to speak with him. Neville couldn't quite make out what was being said due to the chattering of the other students, but he could see Harry's face paled slightly.

Neville sighed. Just another day in Divination.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Owl Posts

The next morning at breakfast Neville felt out of sorts and tired. His hair refused, even with the aid of wizarding hair gel, to behave, and as a result, he had a cowlick that fought every attempt to be tamed. His eyes were puffy and red from lack of sleep due to a series of nightmares he'd suffered overnight.

Ron shoveled in his food, while Hermione paid more attention to her propped up history of magic book than the toast she was currently nibbling on. No one felt particularly chatty this morning.

Hermione finally looked up and smiled acknowledgement of Neville.

"Neville, would you be willing to help us again today with sorting out the wedding gifts?" she said with a small smile.

Professor Dumbledore had set Harry and his friends to the task of opening and acknowledging all the wedding gifts that were pouring in for Harry and Professor Snape. Without help, Harry never would have been able to cope with the sheer volume. It was a staggering amount, the friends had discovered yesterday when the first lot had arrived.

"Of course," Neville mumbled around his porridge. "Will we meet in the same spot?"

"That would be best, yes," said Hermione. "We'll meet in the same spot after our last class and move some of the already tallied and acknowledged gifts to Professor Snape's rooms. There's no more room in the antechamber."

The fluttering of wings broke into their conversation. Regular as clockwork, Ron said unnecessarily, "Mail's in."

The many varieties of owls swooped down and delivered letters, packages and even some howlers to some unfortunate students.

Neville felt a thump in front of him and he saw his Grandmother's barn owl sitting patiently in front of him, waiting for Neville to take the parchment off of his leg.

Neville gently removed the message and fed a bit of his breakfast to the owl in appreciation. The large owl gratefully accepted the tidbits and then flapped silently away, its mission completed

He was curious as to what his Granny was sending him. They had planned to meet this weekend when she accompanied him to visit his parents at St. Mungos.

Across the room on the Slytherin side, Blaise sat at an otherwise empty table. Slytherins were rarely inclined to be early birds and he was using this time to observe unabashedly his little Gryffindor.

Blaise frowned; it looked as if Neville had received some bad news.

Neville studied the parchment and re-read the message several times, hoping it would change.

His Granny would be unable to accompany him to St. Mungos on Saturday to visit his parents. Unexpected guests had shown up at Baxter Cottage and she couldn't abandon them after they'd just arrived. She was very apologetic and promised without fail to make it up to him.

Neville slowly crumpled up the parchment. He looked down at the now congealing remnants of his breakfast. He'd lost his appetite. He slowly stood up and the parchment fell unnoticed to the floor. Neville, lost in thought, headed back to the Gryffindor Dormitories to pick up his books for the day.

Blaise's sharp eyes had picked up the sudden change in Neville's demeanor, but apparently none of his friends had. Nobody had even looked up as Neville left the table.

Blaise rubbed his forehead with his hand, considering what to do next. He could ask Neville when he got the chance or he could take a short cut and check out the parchment that Neville had dropped.

Ah well. He reached into his pocket and got his wand, eleven inches of rowan wood with phoenix feather, and gently, covertly, pointed it towards the Gryffindor table, or under it rather.

"Accio parchment," he said.

The crumpled parchment message flew gently into his hand. Blaise carefully put his wand back into his pocket and unfolded the discarded message. He started to read.

TBC
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A Single White Rose