RP Log: Harry and Neville
Who: Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom
Where: Harry and Wendy's house
What: Neville joins Harry for dinner! They discuss stuff.
When: Oh, last week sometime. Like... Thursday, maybe?
Status: Complete
Rating: PG

Dinner at Harry and Wendy's house had become usual for Neville; what had become unusual about it was for Wendy to actually be there to eat with them, as it seemed that on Mondays and Tuesdays when she was home, something came up and Neville hadn't been able to make it so that he could visit with both of them. It wasn't so bad, though. It was nice to have dinner with a friend, anyway, even if that friend had been increasingly busy and stressed with the wedding and his job and the fact that seeing his now-wife was something that tended to happen late at night or lunchtime.

Not wanting to bother with the formality of the front door, Neville went to the back and slipped into the utility room. "Hallo? Harry?" and that's all he got out before the door to the kitchen shut in his face and all he could hear was cackling as the poltergeist took off, leaving the door locked and Neville there. "Er. Harry?"

Harry was in the living room, sitting on the sofa with a cat draped over his lap, the two dogs asleep at his feet. He still wasn't used to these evenings alone while Wendy was busy performing - in all honestly he didn't like it very much - so he was looking forward to Neville's company. It was quiet and he looked up from the magazine he was looking through when he heard Neville's call, followed by the sound of the door slamming shut and that all too familiar cackle. He knew that by now both doors leading to the utility room would be locked. Neville called again and Harry shifted the cat off his lap to get up. "Fucking bastard," he muttered to himself, before calling back to Neville, "I'm coming!" By now they've learned their own set of tricks against their poltergeist, so being locked in wasn't that much of a hassle anymore; and if you were really unlucky and didn't have your wand, there was always singing. Grabbing his wand off the table on his way, he walked through to the kitchen, muttering to himself about how hard the damn poltergeist would've made it to get Neville out. But for once, it seemed, that the prank was only half-hearted, because the key was still in the door - and not secreted away somewhere.

He unlocked the door and stepped back as he opened it, "Sorry about that, mate. Come in."

Sheepish, Neville ducked his head, clapping Harry on the shoulder as he did so. "Thanks. I can't ever get the spell right to get the door open."

Pulling off his jacket, he bent to greet the dogs, who'd followed Harry. "Sorry about the paper, mate. Seems that's all people were talking about at the shop today."

"No problem," Harry laughed, "Sometimes that spell doesn't seem to want to work from inside - I've been locked in there more than once and had to wait for Wendy to get home to let me out. And the damn thing says my singing is rubbish, so she's the only one who can actually get out by singing to it." And of course, with their luck, that would turn out to be the one room in the house that had some sort of anti-Apparition ward on it that Harry hadn't been able to lift yet.

He shrugged, leaning against the kitchen counter as he looked at Neville, "Thanks. That was...</i>unexpected</i>, although I suppose it shouldn't have been. But I've been angry and had a bloody good whinge about it and now I'm fine." It was honestly still too hard for him to be angry about anything for very long while he was still on his post-wedding high. "D'you want anything to drink? Whisky? Wine? Tea?"

"I always forget about the singing, too," Neville admitted. And he didn't have a bad voice at all, when he cared to use it. He just was too often too shy to do so. He stood slightly awkwardly, hands in pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. "Whisky'd be great, yeah, thanks. Most of the women seemed happy for you, though, and said that it was rubbish that they didn't put in a better picture of Wendy's dress. I made the mistake of telling one of them that she looked really nice and then they wouldn't stop asking me questions about it all." Blushing, Neville looked away; he'd managed to finally escape by claiming that he was needed in the back... all day.

"Well, they'd be happy to hear that there'll be pictures in Witch Weekly at some point," Harry said, pulling two glasses out of the cupboard, "I think Wendy said they're doing the interview next week." He turned to hand Neville a glass of whisky, before peeking into the oven. "Dinner would be ready in a bit. Let's go to the sitting room." Picking up his own glass, he lead the way out of the kitchen; he had to nudge Helga out of the way, before he could sit down again. With the cat settling back onto his lap, he took a sip of whisky, before looking at his friend with a smile, "So - you and Hannah?"

Neville sipped his drink, nodding. "I think I won't say that, though, because I thought I was going to get mauled." It hadn't been a very pleasant day, except for the part where he got to see Hannah. And smile at her. And talk to her. And give her a very shy kiss before they both left for the day. Without meaning to, he was smiling softly, the same sort of smile he'd found himself having to wipe away while at the shop and was helping a customer. It was almost as if Harry was reading his mind. "Yeah... yeah, I reckon so." He paused, blushing but thinking that out of anyone - except maybe Seamus - Harry would understand. "She's pretty brilliant."

"She is," Harry agreed, still smiling. He thought that Hannah was perfect for Neville and that his friend deserved to be as happy as he himself was; in all honesty, at this point in time, he thought that everyone should be that happy. He watched Neville for a moment, before asking, "When did it happen? If you don't mind me asking." He hated to pry, because he hated it when people pried into his life; but this was Neville and one of his closest friends, so he figured that he might as well ask. "I mean, I knew you were friends..."

Neville slouched a little in his seat, thinking. "I walked her home from the wedding, actually. And we were talking and... I kissed her." Neville still couldn't really believe that he'd actually got the nerve to ask Hannah if he could kiss her. "Then we got a coffee and then I took her home." And it really was that simple. He wouldn't mess this up for the world, which meant taking everything as slow as he could without actually stopping. "I wish Gran could know about her. I think she would have liked her." He didn't even bother with the other wish; he'd learned long ago that wishing for anything but a peaceful death for his parents was pointless.

Harry took a drink as he listened, one hand curling into Helga's fur. "That's brilliant, Neville, really." He looked down at the glass in his hand for a second. Wishing for someone that wasn't there anymore was something he had done quite a bit of during the last couple of weeks and months, so it was a feeling he could really identify with. "I don't think there's anyone in the world who wouldn't like her, to be honest. She's a nice girl," he went on at last; then he smiled again, "You should bring her with you for dinner one night."

Curious about the person who didn't smell like Wendy sitting in the living room with Harry, Godric leapt onto the arm of Neville's chair, only to stare at him for a moment before stepping down into Neville's lap. The cat sniffed into Neville's glass before decided that he didn't have anything that he wanted, and so leapt down, paused to look up at Harry, and then sat in the middle of the floor and began grooming himself. "It's good that you haven't got him started on whisky, Harry." Neville grinned slightly. "I thought he was going to try mine. I'll ask her. Just let me know when is good for you and Wendy." In truth, he'd hate to subject Hannah to an evening with just him and Harry, and well, they were male and at times even Neville wasn't immune to making the inevitable man-joke.

"Merlin, don't give him ideas," Harry said with a snort of laughter, "It's hard enough to keep him out of the coffee cups. But yeah, I'll talk to Wendy and let you know - it'll be a Monday or Tuesday night, and hopefully before Christmas." That reminded him of something else, and he went on, "And now that I'm thinking about it - we'll probably come by on Monday to pick out our tree. We'd have come earlier, but with the wedding and Wendy's play it's been a bit busy."

Neville looked around the room, at the few decorations that Wendy had managed to put up in the few minutes she could find, and thought that he was sort of glad he didn't have to deal with decorating and taking it down. But, it definitely would look pretty when done. "Sounds good. And I'll make sure I'm out at the warehouse on Monday afternoon. Seems like that's when she always came into the shop before the wedding. But I'll have a few ready and we'll see what I've got."

Harry's whisky was good, and served to loosen Neville's tongue. "How's her play? I think maybe I'll see if Hannah wants to go. I don't know anything about it, though, since it's Muggle."

"That sounds good, thanks, Neville." Shifting, Harry sank deeper into the sofa, relaxing with his foot propped up on the coffee table. "The play is good. And Wendy's amazing in it," he replied, smiling. He'd never quite realise how good she really was until he saw her on the opening night of Macbeth and he was insanely proud of her and the praise that her performance had garnered. "You definitely should take Hannah. And don't worry - I didn't know anything about it either back when she accepted the part." And now he could actually say some of her lines with her, with how much he'd heard her going through them while they were together at home.

Neville simply raised his glass briefly at Harry. It was obvious how proud he was of Wendy, if Harry's smile was any indication. Suddenly it struck Neville that Harry had been sort of smiling for most of a year. He'd still had his moments of anger, but most of that was due to the fact that he just couldn't escape being who he was. Oh, he'd known that Wendy made him happy, but it was sitting here in a house that Neville was sure that Harry wouldn't ever have taken the time to really decorate much less buy, and surrounded by the fact that some feminine creature had helped to make it into a home, and seeing just how relaxed and comfortable Harry was, that really made it real. And he was about to say something when his nose twitched. "D'you smell something burning?"

Turning his head, Harry breathed in, and the next moment the cat on his lap was unceremoniously moved to the floor as he got up. "Bugger." Seconds later and he was in the kitchen, their dinner on the stove in front of him; it wasn't as bad as he'd thought it would be, burning smell mainly coming from a bit of sauce bubbling over in the oven. Turning to Neville he said, "It's not too bad - we won't have to go for fish and chips, at least."

Neville hung back, letting Harry do this bit. He was almost rubbish in a kitchen - he could do basic things like eggs and toast and even a decent shepher'd pie sometimes. But this was Harry's territory, and Neville would help out in other ways - finding plates and glasses and then at the very least making sure that everything was rinsed off in the sink when they finished. "What is it? It smells good enough." Not that he would mind fish and chips. It was standard fare for him, after all.

"It's lasagne," Harry replied, moving to get knives and forks for them, "We always make too much and we've sort of started to make two instead of one and keeping one for later." He stopped talking, realising how very domestic that made them sound; laughing at himself, he went on, "If you get the plates we're ready to eat."

It made sense to Neville, the making two. At least then Harry (and by extension, Neville sometimes) was guaranteed something to eat. Neville did as asked, reaching for a few plates and letting Harry put a good amount on each before taking them to the table. "Thanks, mate." He sat, digging in and ignoring the fact that it was hot. It was food, and it was good. "She's gotten better at cooking." It was really a far cry from finding a more diverse assortment of take-away boxes in Harry's fridge.

"She has," Harry agreed, taking his place at the table opposite Neville. He was quiet for a while, all attention on the food in front of him; until now he hadn't realised how hungry he was. It was nice just sitting there and having dinner with a friend, the dogs both asleep under the table. He was halfway through his plate when he suddenly said, "I wonder if Wendy got ice-cream."

Neville looked up from where he was cutting another bit of his food into bite-size pieces (all of them uniform, or as close to uniform as he could get). Harry's question had startled him; he'd been enjoying the quiet, happy that Harry didn't expect him to talk constantly. He simply stared at Harry, uncertain how to answer. He settled with, "Er... I dunno, mate."

"I'll check when we're done," Harry shrugged and went back to eating his dinner. Knowing Wendy there would be, so they'd have something for pudding. They finished eating in companionable silence, Harry finally pushing his empty plate back to drink the last of his whisky.

Neville nodded, going back to his meal. He finished with a sigh, stuffed completely, and mirrored Harry by pushing his plate back. He sipped his liquor, arms resting on the table, and looked around the room. "You're a lucky man, you know? It's just... weird to see us all marrying like this. Sometimes it feels like we should be sitting in the Common Room playing Exploding Snap or something. Instead you, Ron and Seamus are married and I'm... well." He could feel his face burn, even if they'd discussed this earlier. "You know. Hannah. And Dean with Parvati."

"I am lucky," he nodded with a faint smile. He really was and he knew it; sometimes it even still took him by surprise at how lucky he really was. "I know what you mean, though - it is weird to think about it sometimes." Harry leaned back in his chair, unconsciously starting to play with his wedding ring while he talked, "But it's nice that we're all figuring our lives out - or that bit of it, at least."

"What d'you think our mums would think?" Neville asked quietly, not looking at Harry. This was a painful subject for the both of them at the best of times, but it had been on Neville's mind more and more frequently, especially seeing Molly Weasley shed tears of happiness for her unofficially-adopted son at his weddiing. If she was that happy for Harry... Neville could only imagine what Lily Potter would have been like. Or Alice Longbottom when he eventually married.

Neville's question surprised him - it wasn't something they ever really talked about - and it took him a moment or two to say anything. "I think our mums would be happy for us...and proud." He had also been thinking about this, more than usual, during the last few months and especially at the wedding; and he'd wished many, many times that his mum and dad could've been there to just meet the woman who had made all the difference in his life.

Neville thought about that for a moment as he turned his glass in his hand before finally draining the last of his whisky. "I think you're right." He stood, taking his plate to the sink and laying it and the glass in there. "How about we go down the pub and have a few? Might be a match on the wireless."

"Sounds like a plan," Harry smiled, getting up to put the few things that he'd used away and his dirty plate in the sink. "Give me a minute to check that everything's closed and the animals all fed and we can go."

"All right." Neville grinned, bending to run his hand over Helga's fur, then picking her up and holding her while he waited for Harry. Helga settled contentedly in his arms, purring and watching Harry. She cried her nearly-silent cry when the food was got out, and leapt from Neville's arms to wind herself around Harry's legs, settling down to eat once Harry was done. And then they were gone, the pub and a few pints of bitter calling Neville's name.