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Sacrifices Betrayals Love and Foolishness	By : TheSiner Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 34759 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- 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.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Author: TheSiner

Title: Post Post Scriptum

Chapters: 1/2

Genre: Drama, Romance,

Pairing: Draco/Neville, Harry/Snape (mentioned),

Summary: Have you ever wondered, why is the totally nice guy together with that complete b***h? Draco and Neville’s story. Continuing the series.

Rating: Teen

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offense is intended.

Warnings: slash, not beta-edited. About the same warning that in the first story. I will add that you won’t see much of Harry and Draco in this one.

A/N: In this, I continue with Draco and Neville’s story. So there is not much Severus/Harry. Not interested? Don’t read then. But for those who are – enjoy.

1.

Draco is leaning against the wall, the coldness of Hogwarts’ old stones is seeping into his right shoulder through the fine, midnight blue silk robe. No one is wearing the uniform tonight. None of the young witches and wizards look like a Hogwarts' students for that simple reason that they are not any more. They are all dressed up as the adults they are about to become. Or at least that is the idea. It would be naive to believe that a piece of parchment that says one has completed their magical education means that they are prepared for the so called real life. The real life is a silly concept anyway; it implies that life until the point of graduation from Hogwarts has been a pink childhood fairy tale, which is very far from the truth in Draco’s case.

But all his peers look so excited and full of hope, they look ready for whatever is to come and they staunchly believe that those are going to be only good things.

As usually, Draco finds his peers annoying and amusing at the same time, and not very smart.

“Should I be worried?”

Draco turns his head into the direction of the voice, somewhat startled and dismayed that he has allowed someone to sneak up on him like this. Especially this certain someone.

He thinks of turning around and walking away, but Draco is bored to tears and not only apprehensive, but slightly intrigued as well. Besides his ex schoolmate owes Draco more than just some embarrassment. It shouldn’t be too hard to turn the tables this time, right?

So with a raised eyebrow and a superior smirk he asks: “Do you think you should be Longbottom?”

“I think I probably should. You were smirking in a kind of scary way. As if you were planning something. ”

“Ah, very perceptive and most likely wise. You should always be a little worried…” <i>around me</i>, is implied.

“But no, this time I don’t have a nefarious plan, no. if something happens, it will not be my doing – I am merely a spectator tonight. ”

“You have been seeing those people daily for seven years. Hasn't it been enough?”

“More than enough, but sometimes people make you see them in a very different light. They can change your perception of them in a blink…” Then, suddenly aware of what he has said, Draco adds: “Look at your good friend Granger over there. I see she is a woman after all, not a worm,” Draco pauses. “I mean, book-worm, of corse.”

“Of course,” a hint of disapproval crosses Longbottom's face. But he glances at Granger. “Hermione looks very nice tonight. ”

Draco rolls his eyes: “Not that. See the way she is pushing her breasts into Weasley’s face? Never suspected she had it in her. And I never thought that Weasley was the one who broke up their Gryffindor Golden couple. I thought it was the other way around and I was wrong. Obviously. She has it bad, but while he is vaguely interested in her breasts Weasley does not care for her as much as she cares for him.”

“You are very perceptive,” Longbottom notes, uncomfortably confirming Draco’s words.

Draco grimaces; it’s more like he is good at detecting other’s weaknesses to explore them later… but a compliment has to be taken with grace.

“Of course I am. Granger is all over Weasley. I guess those overly huge feet are not false advertising after all. I mean, there must be something she’s after and I doubt it’s his intellect. ”

“Malfoy!” Longbottom exclaims obviously scandalized.

He is making it too easy. Draco turns his head and lets his gaze slide down Longbottom’s body: “And your feet… oh my, is there something you would like to brag about? I can be a good listener.”

“Merlin, Malfoy…” Longbottom has turned Gryffindor red.

“What? Did I offend your Gryffindor sensibilities?”

Now it’s Longbottom’s turn to do the eye rolling. But to Draco’s satisfaction, the blush is still there.

But still, this doesn’t feel right. Draco hasn’t managed to really insult Longbottom yet and the boy hasn’t stormed off in anger. It’s making Draco uncomfortable; he doesn’t want a repetition of their previous conversation, even if he would never admit it loud or even think about it, really. The false amicability suddenly disturbs him.

It is tie for the change of tactics.

“Longbottom.”

“Huh…”

“Why are you here?”

“Why? Why wouldn’t I be here, it’s our graduation party. ”

Draco wonders if Longbottom is for real: “Why are you here, talking to me.”

“Ah… I just thought… I…”

“Did it hurt?”

“What?”

“Thinking.”

Longbottom blinks and then smiles: “No. No, it didn’t. At least not too much. ” He is trying to make a joke, but obviously realizes that it’s not a very funny one.

Draco doesn’t have a decency to laugh about bad jokes. Most of Neville’s little friends would most likely l chuckle, because it’s polite, but Draco is not one of them, is he? He just raises a slim eyebrow as if saying ‘and so?’.

“I just wanted to say that I was sorry for what I said that day. It was not my place.”

Draco feels the self-assured smirk slipping off his lips. Naturally, Longbottom wouldn’t be sensible enough to not bring it up. He sighs feeling tired and vulnerable for a moment ad then tries to burrow that feeling deep inside himself.

“And I have always been so kind to you, that you would feel awful because of every uttered word that could hurt my tender soul?” Draco snorts. “Get a backbone Longbottom,” he says flippantly.

Longbottom sighs and gives Draco a sad smile.

“This has less to do with you than you think, Malfoy. I am apologizing because of me. I had no right to teach you how to live your life.”

Draco gives the other wizard a long, disbelieving look: “Longbottom. If I remember correctly, it was I, who spoke to you first and those were no endearments. To make it more clear, since it might be necessary - I was goading you mercilessly Longbottom.”

Is he sick or stupid?

The dark-hired man gives a wave of indifference with his hand: “I am not stupid, I noticed. But you still don’t understand. It doesn’t matter to me, what you said or did to me, Draco. What matters to me is what I did or said to you. I guess I am being selfish right now. I am trying to make myself feel better by offering apologies. ”

Then Longbottoms lifts his eyes from the floor and looks the ex-Slytherin in the eye and a little chuckle escapes past his lips. Draco narrows his eyes, somewhat affronted, because he realizes that the reaction is caused by the stunned expression, which Draco doesn’t manage to hide fast enough.

“So, this is how you goody-goody types function, isn’t it? You don’t care as much for other’s feelings, as for opportunity to think of yourself as of such a wonderful person,” Draco sneers.

“Not exactly, but I suspected that you would easily believe that,” Longbottom replies playfully.

Draco stares at the other man intently, his lips knitted together into a line as thin as one with such a generous, sensual mouth can manage. It is obvious that the cogs are working intently as he is processing the Gryffindor’s words.

Why does he feel like he has been had?

The mercury eyes blazes with scorching anger: “Don’t toy with me!” He snarls and stalks away.

“Draco!” Longbottom calls after him.

The idiot’s impudence astonishes Draco. When did he allow Longbottom to use his first name? Or to talk to him. It was mistake to stand there and listen to the most ridiculous of his year mates!

Only the Longbottom the Half of Hogwarts used to laugh about doesn’t exist anymore…

Blaise catches his eyes and raises eyebrows at him in a manner that makes Draco wonder if he has noticed the interaction with Longbottom. But, what does it matter? Why would he try to hide it? Why would he be worried because of a chance that someone might have witnessed the scene?

It doesn’t matter.

Only that Longbottom has managed to make him feel somehow more vulnerable than he has felt since… since he let father fail him for the last time. And instantly his mind protests. This is different kind of vulnerability.

His father’s blindness, Lucius incapability to see Draco and understand his needs made Draco feel so lost and alone when he was a child.

Under the scrutiny of Longbottom’s plain grey eyes he is feeling vulnerable because the damned Gryffindor sees too much.

2.

Draco rakes fingers through his hair, but the silky strands instantly fall back to where they were returning to previous perfection. There is some irony in the fact that apparently it is impossible for the image in the mirror to be anything, but flawlessly handsome.

Draco turns his back on the mirror, deciding, that he has no excuse to linger any longer, and it’s time to join his parents as they have requested. His reluctance has everything to do with the fact that Lucius has insisted (meaning demanded) that Draco be present at their little dinner party. Nonetheless, he can’t refuse, since he has not been very obliging lately and the request to join them for an evening doesn’t seem much to ask.

Still, Draco cannot help, but wonder, what it is really about, as he strolls through the house towards the drawing room, ignoring the grey eyes of his ancestors that are following his every step.

“Draco,” Lucius greets him in a manner, which makes it obvious that he is displeased for those who know him well. “I see you finally decided to join us.”

“Father. Mother,” he greets them with a formal bow, the way every properly bred pure blood son should. Yes, he is about five or maximum eight, minutes late and almost on purpose. Draco is not going to argue that. Instead he turns towards their guests. They have met before, but not officially introduced.

“May I present to you my son, Draco,” Lucius says. “Draco, you might have heard of mister Fallstone.”

He has heard of Mr. Fallstone. Draco vaguely recalls having heard Fallstone’s name in connection with the Wimbourne Wasps and the Ministry. Everyone’s name can be heard in connection with the Ministry, if they have any influence at all. Lucius would never consort with someone, who has no power, that’s a given.

Draco greets the man formally and then he is introduced to Fallstone’s wife and his beautiful, educated (but not overly emancipated) daughter.

He has to bite down on his cheek to keep his aloofly polite expression break into an angry snarl.

3.

“Sorry, mate!” Neville calls out to a wizard whom he bumps into entering ‘The Leaky Cauldron’. His clumsy moments still keep embarrassing the young man. It’s not as bad as it was when he was a child, but when he is tired, he gets distracted and silly accidents happen.

Neville is a master at laughing them off.

He has had a very long day and is desperate for a pint, and to be honest Neville would like not to make it home before his Gran’s bed time. He has a feeling that he’s not up to her tonight and sometimes it’s wiser to avoid her. Or less complicated.

He looks around the room not actually expecting to see anyone familiar—

Malfoy!

Malfoy. He means, Malfoy, without the exclamation mark, because it’s not such a big deal that Malfoy is here, right? ‘The Leaky Cauldron’ is just the most popular place in the Wizarding world, since everyone has to walk through the pub to access Diagon Alley. It’s perfectly possible that Draco Malfoy would be there. He probably should just...

Yeah, he should...

Neville shoves hands into his pockets and wonders if he should go and say ‘hello’. Or shouldn’t. It’s not like they are friends or something and someone like Draco Malfoy probably doesn’t want anything to do with him anyway.

The blond doesn’t look as if he is waiting for someone though. There’s a half-empty bottle of wine in front of him and the top three buttons of his shirt are undone. Malfoy rather looks like someone who is determined to get drunk alone.

Then Draco looks up and Neville is caught staring by the cold and captivating grey.

Malfoy arches an eyebrow, smirks mirthlessly and sinks back into his chair striking such a decadent pose as if he was reclining on a throne instead of a tatty wooden chair. He lifts the half-empty glass in a mocking toast and then drains it.

Is it a challenge? An invitation?

Does it matter, no, it obviously doesn't, since Neville’s feet are already carrying him over to Draco’s table.

“Longbottom! So we meet again!” Malfoy greets Neville and instantly it becomes obvious that he is much drunker than Neville thought at first.

Draco is not trying to get drunk, he is drunk already.

“Malfoy. I would have asked what you were celebrating, but, well… you are not celebrating, are you?” Neville asks, before it crosses is mind that maybe he shouldn’t open another can of worms.

“Astute, Longbottom! Very astute. You’re absolutely right. I am not-celebrating. Not-celebrating my engagement if you care to know. Do you? Are you curious Longbottom? Do my private life interests ypu? Are you going to run to the Daily Prophet with the story?”

Neville’s eyes must have bulged.

“Engagement?” His voice is squeaky.

“Depends on how you look at it, really. Oh, sit down Longbottom, stop looming above me like, like Snape or a Dementor or something,” he snickers at the comparison, because even a fool would find it ridiculous. To compare Longbottom to Snape. “No, it’s not that it’s official or something, believe me, if I had gotten engaged, there would have been a grand party and an announcement in the center spread of the Prophet. So, noo, I am not, not yet. Yet. However, I got introduced to my future wife tonight.”

“What?” Neville is not sure, why he is finding it so shocking. There is nothing wrong with being sort of engaged, is there?

“Oh, yes, isn’t that rich? Daddy has picked me a wife! He would have liked us to tie the knot as soon as possible. Preferably, yesterday. Unfortunately, she’s still in school. Beauxbatons, of course. Her mother thinks that a bit of French is what makes her daughter a refined lady, can you believe it? As if, French are better than we by default just because their language sounds sort of fancy. Of course Malfoys originally comes from France, but that’s beyond the point, you know?”

Neville shrugs; he isn’t sure of what makes a lady one and what doesn’t. It doesn't matter much to him, if the girl is nice.

“My Gran wants for me to marry too,” Neville offers.

Draco raises his eyebrows. “Oh, really? And whom?”

“No one particularly. Just someone. A witch, I guess. My Dad married Mum as soon as they left Hogwarts, so I am supposed to do the same. She’s already disappointed that I didn’t become an Auror like Dad was.”

“And, what have you been up to Longbottom?”

“Huh?”

“Instead of becoming an Auror.”

“Oh!” It is stupid of Neville to imagine that Draco might know what he is doing. “I am doing herbology apprenticeship with professor Burdock. Pom-- Professor Sprout recommended me.”

“Good for you, Longbottom,” Malfoy drawls and Neville doesn’t think that he is being mocked. For once the blond sounds like he truly means it.

Neville is glad that his companion has opened the topic and he can ask the question without appearing to be nosy. “And you, Malfoy? What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What have you been doing? Like a career or apprenticeship. ”

“I? Funny Longbottom, really funny,” Draco throws his head back in scornful laughter, but Neville has a feeling that he is mocking himself more than him. “I am doing nothing Longbottom. I am resisting my father’s attempts to make me take up some boring Ministry position and waiting for my fiancée to mature so I can marry, beget an heir and then keep doing nothing.”

Malfoy does not sound as if he would be enjoying that.

“Maybe you should find a job. One you really like. Or a hobby. Something you are good at,” Neville suggests, because even if Malfoy is not easy to get along with, he is smart and good at many things. Like potions, flying, and charming people and putting them into their places. His talents are exactly the things that Neville sucks at.

“Something I am good at? Oh, Longbottom, what a marvelous idea! I can imagine my father’s reaction if I started taking money for what I am good at!” Malfoy licks his lips lasciviously and smirks at Neville, which makes him think that the blond is not talking about Quidditch.

“Malfoy,” Neville says, not sure how to react. “You are drunk. ” Obviously, Malfoy’s eloquence is deceptive. He has had way too much wine.

Draco stares at him intently for a long moment and then he laughs out flashing Neville pearl white teeth. “Yes, indeed, I am!”

“Should I take you home?” Neville offers.

Draco takes another sip from his goblet and Neville can see that he lacks the usually elegance, his hand is a bit sluggish as it is lifting the goblet to his lips.

Then he leers at Longbottom: “Are you propositioning me Longbottom? Going to support my new career? Would like to be my first client? What is your pleasure sir?”

Neville blanches: “No… no, Malfoy. Listen, you are pissed. You should go home, get some sleep. I’ll apparate you, alright?”

“To your bed, Longbottom?” Draco asks giving the other man a once over.

“No, Malfoy…” despite himself, Neville feels his cheeks heating under the intense gaze.

“Then, thank you very much, but I will pass. I want to fuck someone. Or rather, I want to be fucked. For money or for free, I don’t care which, by you or by someone else, it doesn’t matter either,” with that he tries to stand up, but then sways and falls back down. “Maybe, I should have another drink,” Malfoy gives a laugh. The sound is so light and careless...

Neville sighs. It looks like he is not going to get his beer. But on the other hand, he feels drunk by just looking at Malfoy. He stands up and takes the glass out of Malfoy’s hand.

“Hey…”

“Come, Malfoy, let’s get you home. To your own bed.”

“Going to be my hero, Longbottom? Everybody needs a hero these days, don't they?”

Neville just smiles and hoists the other wizard to his feet.

Draco falls against Neville’s broad chest: “You know Longbottom; I would rather spread my legs for muggle men to earn living, than fuck some little inbred witch on my father’s command. Even if she speaks French. After all, it’s what I am exceptionally good at. Goes with being pretty, you know?”

“You are selling yourself short,” Neville objects and pulls the blond to his feet, wrapping Draco’s arm around his shoulder; I hope that he will be able to hold on. “You shouldn’t talk about yourself that way.”

“But that’s the truth Longbottom. Why do you keep refusing to see that?” Instead of answering that, Neville starts dragging Draco towards the door.

He catches the barman’s eyes and asks Tom to put Malfoy’s bill on his tab.

“I am a slut, Longbottom,” Malfoy’s lips whisper very close to his ear. “You don’t believe me? Ask Potter or better. Or his husband, yes, ask Severus.”

Neville’s step falters. The soft puff of breath against his ear is quite distracting. Not to mention Malfoy’s words.

“Oh, yes, Longbottom, I fucked Snape. It's true. Still want to save me, want to be my hero? Or maybe my pimp? I don’t care whose whore I become as long as I’m not my father’s. Damn bastard...”

Neville tightens his grip around Malfoy’s waist pulling him closer. He wonders at the fact that being pissed out of his mind, Draco still smells incredibly good. Fresh. Like some kind of citrusy flower...

“Still feeling sorry for me, Longbottom?”

He is feeling sorry for Draco. More sorry than ever in fact.

“You know, you should be worried for your dear, little Potter. Snape likes it rough. But on the other hand – I have no idea, where Potter’s tastes lie. But, no, I don’t think so. And that’s not the point, is it? The point is that I let him to use me, didn’t I?” He pauses to yawn and Neville realizes that he has never seen Draco doing something as human and uncontrollable as yawning and it makes him want to take the slender, young man in his arms and hold him… and he hates that it’s not something he can’t do. He keeps leading Draco in the direction of a small by-street next to the Leaky, away from muggle eyes, which he often uses for apparating.

Neville is very, very angry.

4.

“Alright, Neville,” Harry says when he has pulled his ex-housemate to the side. “What’s the matter?”

Neville shrugs, pretending not to understands, what Harry means. Harry however is not going to stand for it.

“Don’t give me that. I have noticed. You haven’t stopped glaring at Severus tonight. It’s usually the other way around. What is going on?”

Neville sighs, raking fingers through his hair. “I am not sure if… I don’t think you want to hear this, Harry,” he says frankly.

The shorter boy huffs indignantly: “Don’t patronize me Neville. I am not fragile.”

“But you are a bit,” Neville makes sure that his friend sees his smile and knows that he’s mostly teasing. And very dear to many people. He adds in his thoughts.

Harry rolls his eyes and demands that Neville doesn’t change the subject.

Neville lets out another loud breath. He is feeling cornered. Maybe he is cornered by his consciousness, which agrees that Neville shouldn’t patronise Harry.

“Alright. I know about him and Draco Malfoy.”

He sees Harry’s eyes widen. His eyes are still the most beautiful ones Neville has ever seen. And the saddest at times.

“How?”

“From Malfoy.”

“What! Does go around telling it to all and sundry now? Was he boasting or something? I can’t believe that git--”

“No, Harry, no! He is not boasting, he told only me.”

“Only you? If he has told you, he could have told everyone else. You are all and sundry, Neville.”

“No, Harry, I don’t think so. He was very drunk and… trust me on this, Harry, he is not telling everyone,” Neville doesn’t like seeing Harry this upset, because he is the one who doesn’t deserve to be hurt by this.

“Alright, Neville, alright… I just don’t want people to know, it’s just…”

The dark-haired boy looks so young and miserable and Neville can’t stand it, he puts his hand on Harry’s shoulder: “I understand. They won’t, not from me.”

Harry nods.

“I didn’t want to upset you,” Neville sighs. “I’m sorry, but it’s just that I… I’m so damn angry with your husband right now! I want to smash his face in really bad, Harry,” Neville admits and chuckles, because the situation is a bit absurd. He’s just the clumsy Longbottom kid and Sanpe is Snape, but he has grown so much that at the moment if it came to blows with the Potions Master, Neville would have a good chance at winning.

And it would be over Draco Malfoy’s honour.

There is something tragicomic in that.

“It wasn’t only Severus fault! Malfoy is hardly an innocent!” Harry’s tone is defensive and Neville understands, but he still cannot agree.

“He is your husband, Harry, I know, but what he did was so wrong that I don’t have words for it! He was the one who should have known better! He should have refused Draco.”

Harry’s lips are knit together tightly. It is clear that he has mixed feelings about the situation, and understandable, but…

“Malfoy probably did it to hurt me, do you realize that Neville?” He finally says.

Yes, Neville does.

“But it doesn’t mean-- you don’t really know Malfoy, Harry. He has quite a mean streak, I can’t deny that,” Neville wonders since when he thinks of that particular trait as cute. “He hurts people, but--” Neville wants to explain that Draco is not all right and no one has noticed, because he is Draco Malfoy and supposedly born that way. He wants to tell Harry that Draco hurts himself much more than others, but no matter, how desperate Neville is to talk about this with someone, he can’t say the words, because he realises that Draco wouldn’t want him to talk about him with Harry, he would be more upset, uf he knew, that Neville tried to defend him.

“I’m sorry, Neville,” Harry finally says. “I can’t really bring myself to care for Malfoy’s issues after everything. When you talk about it, I realise that he must have a lot of them, but…”

“I don’t expect you to,” and Neville means it. It is not Harry’s place. The problem is that no one else obviously cares: nor his parents, nor his friends or teachers.

Snape certainly didn’t when he was using Draco. The fact that Draco obviously allowed him to, doesn’t excuse it. Snape should have noticed that Draco was not exactly rational and tried to help him, instead of taking advantage of him.

“If you want to hex Severus, I might turn a blind eye, because he certainly deserves it,” Harry speaks up and then looks closely into Neville’s grey eyes. “But, Nev, what are you doing with Draco Malfoy?”

Neville is a bit taken aback.

Actually, it is a very good question. What is he doing with Draco Malfoy?

Harry shakes his head: “Be very careful Neville. Please. I know you have a big heart. But you are my friend and I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Neville hasn’t thought it was possible to respect Harry any more than he already does. However, when Harry doesn’t judge when he obviously disapproves, Neville finds that his admiration for his ex-housemate can still grow.

5.

It seems, that others have also become aware that Draco Malfoy and Neville Longbottom have been seen together, but they are not as non-judgemental as Harry.

“Hey, Neville,” Seamus is never one to hold back. “Talk has that you’ve been hanging out with Malfoy.”

Not exactly hanging out, Neville thinks.

“Is he coming on to you? You’re not sleeping with him, man, are you?”

Neville’s eyes widen. “N-no! Of course, not.”

“Good to hear that,” Dean grumbles. “But what were you doing with him then?”

Neville doesn’t like the way they are talking about Draco, but doesn’t want to argue.

“He was at the Leaky, drunk and I apparated him home,” Neville explains, thinking that he has never been as annoyed with the small pond that is the wizarding world. Why is he even making excuses? Alright, maybe because they are his friends and they care for him, but he is annoyed for some reason and feels like they are intruding, but why would he feel like that?

“You sure, he wasn’t trying to get into your pants? Maybe you just didn’t notice. Malfoy has a bit of a reputation, if you know what I mean,” Seamus wriggles his eyebrows suggestively and Neville wants to punch him so bad that he has to make excuse and go to the bathroom before he does something stupid.

But it can get worse.

“Neville Frank Longbottom!” He can tell by the tone of Gran’s voice that he’s in trouble. “What business do you have with the Malfoy boy?” As usually, she doesn’t even wait for his response. She always has her mind made up already about everything. That’s just the way she is. “That boy is bad news Neville. You should be looking for a good witch to marry instead of associating with his kind. I ran into Amelia, she says her niece Susan is still single. Says, she’s a nice girl. You should ask her out--”

Neville doesn’t have to listen further. He already knows what she is going to say next too well.

“—your father had already proposed to Alice by the time he were out of Hogwarts and married her two months later, Neville.”

“Yes, Gran,” he gives the standard reply, because to argue with her is a waste of time.

6.

“Draco,” his name drips like some honey-tar mixture from Blaise’s tongue.

Draco has never quite managed to make up his mind about Zabini. After knowing the man for seven years, he’s still unsure of where his loyalties lie or what he wants. There is an impenetrable cloud of mystery surrounding the dark skinned half-Italian wizard. Draco is not sure though, if there is really a secret behind those eyes, which are as blue as Mediterranean Sea, or it’s just an illusion and Blaise Zabini is as plane as Millicent Bulstrode, just better looking.

Then there is all that rumor about Mrs. Zabini and her numerous husbands. Never exactly believed and confirmed, but still there. That alone feeds the thick halo of mystery around the man.

However, Blaise has never done anything to Draco (or anyone else). He has managed to stay in everyone’s good books, or rather, he has stayed overlooked. That is an achievement, since people as good looking don’t usually go unnoticed.

“People are talking Draco,” Blaise’s voice is a caress on one’s cheek.

Draco’s smirk is cold, challenging, and cynical but he will never admit that it’s defensive: “You mean they have been talking about me? Or you hadn't mentioned it. They always talk, Zabini. Let them.”

“Are you sure? After all, they talk of you and Longbottom.”

That’s just ridiculous. Draco rolls his eyes: “I got drunk at Leaky and Longbottom, the noble Gryffindor, took it upon himself to make sure I got home safe. Which by the way I did mind, since I had rather gotten into some trouble. I might have even dropped by, if you know what I mean.”

Blaise smirks indicating that he knows very well.

“If you say so, Draco. It is just that Longbottom is not really from our circles, it would not be beneficial to your reputation to be associated with him. I think of you as of a friend, so I am warning you, Draco. What you do with yourself in privacy is one thing, but people like Longbottom has no discretion. ”

Draco makes a face: “Shut up Zabini. Just because someone has nothing better to do with their time than making up stores about Longbottom and me-- no, I do not want to talk about this. Don’t we have something better to discuss?”

Zabini nods elegantly tilting head to his left side the same way he always does: “I personally have nothing against Longbottom, but he is not one of us and he will never be. He might be a pure-blood, but…”

Draco waves at him a little absent-mindedly, he has grown weary of the conversation. He is itching to ask Zabini, what makes him think that Neville Longbottom would want to be a part of their crowd, and if Blaise really believes that, what he calls ‘our circles’ are that wonderful. Draco personally often feels as if he was trapped in those circles of hell.

Merlin, Draco shakes his head, he’s getting melodramatic like a bloody Hufflepuff.

“I think, your prattle has made me thirsty,” he says and saunters towards the bar-counter where a waiter is mixing drinks. Draco personally thinks that a wizard is not a quarter as good as a house elf. However, one can’t dress house elves into tight fitting robes or stop them from banging their foreheads against the floor in the middle of the party when they suddenly get into their heads that they have done something wrong.

Thus the new trend – to hire human help. Draco personally wouldn’t have minded a house elf with the whole head-banging, maybe he would even look forward to the head-banging. A good scene would certainly be more entertaining than Pansy’s Beubaxton friends’ inane chatter about the robe trends and the new Weird Sisters single.

It seems she has invited all of them tonight. None of them would have minded terribly to become Mrs. Malfoy, quite the opposite. Draco would have revealed that Father has already found him a wife, if that would deter them. Draco doesn’t believe that it will, his fortune and name are too tempting and his looks – cherry on the top. Even his sexual orientation (known well enough) doesn’t put them off

Draco wonders which is worse – when people want him for his blond hair, chiseled features and flawless complexion or when they want him for his money and his family’s influence.

He takes a sip from his glass and looks around the room. Parkinson is all over some Durmstang graduate whose father has the largest fur business in the Wizarding world. Blaise is engaged in a conversation with Jenny Weis – a singer from Germany, who is the new ‘it’ girl all over the wizarding Britain. Crabbe and Goyle are not invited – there are places for dumb brutes and they don’t belong in trendy parties.

He realizes that there is no one whom he would like to talk to.

7.

Neville tugs on his tie, which feels like a rope tied to tightly around his neck. That tie doesn’t fit around his neck the same way as Neville doesn’t fit with the crowd at the party. He is only doing this for Gran, who hopes that Neville would meet a witch here. It seems like a small thing to appease her.

Neville is surprised that he is invited at all, because he has always been the one who is let out. There was always Hermione, Harry and Ron and Dean and Seamus and even if a lot has changed since then, he sometimes still has this feeling that he’s the odd one.

He does understand why they have invited him. The Longbottoms are not exactly poor, the Longbottom Hall is no hovel, and the Ministry can smell money from mile away, even if they don’t flaunt it. Like, for example ,Malfoys.

Who are here tonight. As expected.

And they fit in perfectly. Neville saw them earlier. He can see, where Draco is coming from; both his parents are stunning and it is as if he has received the best from both. He obviously takes after his mother a lot, only Narcissa’s beauty is too distant, she appears to be cold like an icicle. But there is nothing cold about Draco. He is vicious and angry, but Neville would never characterise Draco as cold. Quite the opposite.

And here he is, standing in the corner with a glass of champagne, which he has barely touched and he is once again thinking about Draco Malfoy. He doesn’t really like champagne. There is nothing wrong with the drink, but it makes Neville feel funny, different from any other alcohol. Neville just doesn’t like it. The drink doesn’t fit him any better than the tie, the party, Draco… he realizes that he should just go home and do something useful. A new hybrid of belladonna is waiting him at home...

Neville hides behind a column and lets out a sigh.

Then he hears voices. Someone is arguing. Neville has never liked loud voices, maybe, because curses are more often shouted on the top of one’s lungs… for some reason, he instantly feels the urge to check if everything is alright.

He looses the glass and quietly walks out in the corridor in the direction of the voices. He looks around the corner, where he sees two men.

“What did you tell her?” Lucius Malfoy demands.

Draco smirks at him: “Why don’t you ask her yourself? She was more your fiancée than mine, wasn’t she? After all you chose her.”

“I am asking you.”

“It doesn’t matter, what exactly I told her, what matters is that after it, she would never want to see my face again. Daddy.”

Draco is so obviously enjoying himself that it almost makes Neville wince. Lucius Malfoy looks like he is about to burst.

“How dare you--"

“What? To ruin your perfect plan?” For the first time Draco shows his anger. “To defy you? I dare, father!”

“I’m warning you Draco…” Lucius growled.

“Guess what father? I am not afraid of your warnings!” Draco looked like embodiment of defiance, his mercury eyes shining with it brightly. “I wonder, what made you think I was such an obedient son? Hm? Did I really fool you so well?”

“You ungrateful, little-- after everything I have done for you--”

Draco’s flippancy vanished, his face distorted with anger: “What have you done for me? what? You kept telling me that boys didn’t cry, you kept telling me what a disappointment I were, you almost sold me to that insane maniac, you called your Lord,--"

SLAP! “Shut up!”

Malfoy presses his own palm against his smarting cheek and his lips pulled back into a smile that is not a smile at all, but a soundless snarl: “You told me to shut up when your ‘friends’ kept pawing me too. Oh, I am so eternally grateful!”

Neville suddenly feels chilled to bone with mortification.

CLANG!

The wand falls out of his grip and rolls into the direction of both Malfoys. Just now Neville realizes that he has drawn it.

He leans down to pick it up, looking at the both wizards: “Sorry, I hope I didn’t interrupt anything…” he doesn’t sound as smooth as he would have liked.

Lucius Malfoy glares at him and Neville sees him sheath his wand: “You are not welcome at the Manor until you reconsider your behaviour. ” With that he turns his back and stalks away, leaving Draco and Neville standing awkwardly in the corridor.

A hysterical laugh breaks the silence.

“Did you hear him? I am not welcome. Can you imagine it, Longbottom, Draco Malfoy – homeless?” He tries to laugh out again, but doesn’t quite manage. He lifts his hand to brush hair back off his face and it’s shaking.

Then slowly he moves backwards and presses his back against the wall. To Neville it looks like Draco is about to collapse and he wants nothing, but to take the blond in his arms and dissaparate to who cares where.

“How much did you hear Longbottom? Did we manage to entertain you?”

Then without a second thought Neville crosses the distance between them, puts his arm around Draco’s shoulder and pulls the blond into his side: “Let’s go. You can stay with me for some… as long as you're ho-- as long as you need it.”

He is certain that Draco is about to protest and he is ready to fight the ex-slytherin as a Gryffindor he is. But Malfoy is blissfully silent while they make their way outside the anti-apparation wards.

He doesn’t say a word until they arrive at Longbottom Hall.

“I told my little fiancée, that she was not my type,” Draco chuckles. “Explained by describing what exactly I prefer.”

Neville winces. Poor girl.

“Would you like something?”

“No. I don’t know…”

“Come, I’ll show you the guest room.”

“Next to yours?”

Neville shrugs. If Draco wants a room next to his, that’s not a problem. They have plenty of rooms.

He opens the door, shows the bathroom, introduces Malfoy to Blossom (their house elf).

“If you need something, I am in the door opposite yours, alright?”

Malfoy is standing by the window, looking outside, with his back turned towards Neville. He doesn’t say anything.

“Ok, then goodnight. ”

Neville is glad that Gran is away, because he doesn’t think that she would have approved of him bringing home Draco Malfoy instead of a ‘nice girl’.

Neville spells the lights off and closes his eyes.

About fifteen minutes later, he’s still not asleep.

Five more minutes later his bedroom door creaks open and Neville jumps sits up.

“Relax, Longbottom, the Dark Lord is still dead.”

Malfoy saunters towards the door, obviously clad in nothing more than one of the silk guest robes. His feet are bare and his hips are swinging as he crosses the room.

“Do you… need something?” Neville asks, when the blond climbs on the bed.

“And what do you think?”

Neville is trying to think and not look; the tie, which is supposed to keep the robe close, is doing a very poor job of it and it’s almost impossible to keep his eyes off Malfoy’s milky skin.

“I think that you should get some sleep,” Draco smells of soap, water, and some kind of sweet cream (figures he would use it).

“Think again,” Draco says and is leaning closer, his lips full, wet, inviting…

“No, Draco,” Neville puts his hand between them. “I didn’t bring you here for this.”

“Maybe I came here for this.”

“No, you did not.”

“You would know!”

“I would.”

Draco’s right eyebrow lifts a bit. Neville has no idea, what he’s thinking.

“Don’t tell me you don’t want this. You want me, don’t you Longbottom?”

Draco can purr like a kitten and Neville doesn’t think that it would be right to deny it, because it would be lying and he doesn’t want to lie to Draco: “Yes, I do. You are very… you, I guess.”

Draco’s smirk is triumphant, but there is also some nervousness about his lips, but none in his voice: “What is keeping you then? Certainly not I.”

Neville sighs. How can he explain it?

“You are still calling me by my family name,” he says.

“What?”

“My name is ‘Neville’, Draco.”

“So, you want me to call you ‘Neville’? I can do that,” Draco bats his eyelashes.

Neville feels like crying as he gently pushes the blond away: “No, Draco. I am sorry, but, no. this would not be right.”

Draco pushes his full lower lip out in such way that under other circumstances Neville would have laughed seeing the pout.

“Fine! I will remove myself from your house-- ”

This time it’s Neville who grabs the other man by his hands and doesn’t let him to get off the bed: “No, you will not.”

“But-- ”

“Shh,” Neville pushes Draco down, so that he is lying with his head on the pillow next to his. He lies down himself and pulls the blanket over them both.

“Sleep,” he says finding Draco’s hand under the blanket. “Goodnight,” he adds, giving the hand a gentle squeeze.

TBC

in part 2
- 5
- 6
- 7
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Sacrifices Betrayals Love and Foolishness