(no subject)
"Brother's Keeper"
Neville/Harry
Somebody kicked the window pane: fear, identity, and the monster behind door #2.
R
Somebody kicked the window pane; the glass shattered
and we found ourselves elsewhere, in the midst of a
coolness to which we were unaccustomed.
- Paul Nougé, "The Overturned Mirror"
1.
"I dream," Harry Potter says, "one of those dreams where you think you wake up but you're really still dreaming. There's a mirror across from my bed, made out of black glass or onyx or something, something dark. And I watch myself blink away the sleep in my eyes, and stretch, and put my glasses on. But when I can see clearly, I know that the figure in the mirror is smiling, and I'm not."
He leans back in his chair and stares blankly at a point somewhere over Neville's shoulder. His skin is chalky against the Gryffindor scarf and his eyes are shadowed and Neville would reach out and comfort him, only he's afraid that he'd cut himself on all the sharp ends.
"I haven't been getting much sleep," Harry says unnecessarily.
2.
In their seventh year, Hogwarts splits even further from the Ministry. Rules are relaxed and standards are changed and although the Ministry seethes with barely-contained rage at the sheer irresponsibility, they stand motionless because they cannot afford to lose the steady influx of Aurors and researchers.
Ron Weasley is the first Animagus: a dragonfly, fast and shimmering, and he compares himself to a Snitch. Hermione Granger is a parrot, but does not acknowledge the cruel useless irony of it. Pansy Parkinson is a hyena and Draco Malfoy is a komodo dragon and a boy in Hufflepuff is an elephant and it feels like a zoo sometimes, the new-found alteregos pushing at so many faces, turning them unfamiliar.
Neville is a platypus and he doesn't tell anyone. When the others sneak out to feel the night on alien skin, he begs off, staying indoors and shuffling through class notes. There are worse things to be than a platypus - a Ravenclaw is rumored to be a deformed goldfish - but it seems so ridiculous and pathetic that his eyes water and his throat burns and he'd rather people just think he wasn't talented enough to transform.
Harry isn't going public either, and Neville just assumes it's because of some top-secret plan to defeat Voldemort until something makes Neville confess, and Harry confesses back.
"A platypus? Oh, that's not so bad," he says. "I'm a caterpillar."
"But you'll turn into a butterfly, right?
"Nope. I looked it up. Animagi don't work that way. I'm just a caterpillar." He holds his hand up, thumb and forefinger an inch apart. "About that big."
"I'm sure you make a very good caterpillar," Neville says earnestly.
3.
Across from Neville is the reflection of Harry Potter.
Erised, he thinks, and moves closer.
He presses his hands to the mirror, and it's cool and smooth to the touch but it's not glass, because he can feel it give. He pushes harder, watches it bend beneath his fingers, warping the image. His nails bite into the surface and they move through it, seams stretching out from the cuts. Gashes, as the glass spreads apart. And suddenly it's like someone shoves him through because he's falling face-first through the soft ice and tumbling out onto the floor.
He looks up and sees Harry, still smiling.
"What're you doing down there?" Harry asks.
Neville blinks. He turns around, but there is no mirror, no other side. He presses his hands to his face and breathes deeply and decides that it was just a little breakdown, the kind they've all been having since their Occlumency classes started.
"C'mon," says Harry. "Let's get you off the ground."
4.
Neville asks, "Have you always been left-handed?" but the question is lost when Harry snakes that left hand under the sheets to pull him off with the air of a favor. Harry smiles with his teeth and Neville tilts his head to shake loose the deja-vu.
"It's okay," he says through uneven breaths. "It's not that bad."
"What's not that bad?" Harry asks.
"You - your Animagus form being a caterpillar."
"What? Where in the hell did you get that from? I'm a spider, I told you already, remember?"
Deja-vu. Neville scrunches his eyes shut and says, "Spider."
Harry rolls over onto his back. "Black widow. And I should go now." He kisses Neville on the corner of his mouth and slips out to his own bed.
And of course, of course Neville remembers now: how could he forget?
The next day, Neville combs his hair and brushes his teeth and eats a bowl of oatmeal and follows Harry&Ron&Hermione out to the school grounds. He listens while they talk animatedly about the war, and if he doesn't recall the specific incidents they discuss, he puts it down to faulty memory and moves on.
"Are you going to be safe, you think? When you go home for the holidays?" It's the first thing Neville's said so far and Hermione looks a little suprised. Ron just yawns.
"I don't think I'll have to deal with the Dursleys anymore," Harry says, and smiles that toothy smile that makes Neville's stomach hurt.
5.
"WE MUST DEFEND OURSELVES," Hermione shouts, and the crowd cheers. They're all wearing her handmade badges now. Ron's in the front row, eating Bertie Bott's Beans and winking up at Hermione.
"Great finale," Ron says when she steps down from the podium. "Really got me going."
Neville tries to keep up - they're walking quickly and his feet keep slipping on the rain-wet ground. "So we're going after the Death Eaters? Doesn't that seem a little risky?"
"Death Eaters? Why would we...Neville, you're not making any sense." Harry gives him an unreadable look.
"Neville, are you feeling okay?" Hermione asks quietly, and presses her hand to his forehead. "Is there something wrong?"
No, no, of course there's nothing wrong - he has been losing track of things lately, but hasn't everyone? Besides, he's always had a hard time remembering his assignments. He was never the smartest. And yes, he does remember now - of course -
"If you're sure," says Harry. "Then can we continue?"
They keep walking but Neville slows down, looking at the rush of students transforming around him: wolves and falcons and rabbits and frogs, jostling and biting for the front line.
"Harry, I don't - "
but Harry's already transformed, a black widow scuttling away.
"Harry, I don't understand this," Neville says quietly.
A passing Hufflepuff glares at him and holds out a copy of the Daily Prophet. "Try reading the news sometime," she says, and pushes past him, her arms sliding easily into wings.
Neville unrolls the paper and stares at the front page:
NEW MINISTER OF MAGIC SIGNED IN.
Beneath it, a picture of Voldemort smiling with sharp gleaming teeth.
Oh, fuck, deja-vu, Neville thinks, and the newspaper falls from his limp hands. "So... so who are we attacking?" he calls out weakly, but no one answers.
A/N: Apologies to Neil Gaiman and Paul Nougé - I promise I never meant to scratch up your ideas so much.
Neville/Harry
Somebody kicked the window pane: fear, identity, and the monster behind door #2.
R
Somebody kicked the window pane; the glass shattered
and we found ourselves elsewhere, in the midst of a
coolness to which we were unaccustomed.
- Paul Nougé, "The Overturned Mirror"
1.
"I dream," Harry Potter says, "one of those dreams where you think you wake up but you're really still dreaming. There's a mirror across from my bed, made out of black glass or onyx or something, something dark. And I watch myself blink away the sleep in my eyes, and stretch, and put my glasses on. But when I can see clearly, I know that the figure in the mirror is smiling, and I'm not."
He leans back in his chair and stares blankly at a point somewhere over Neville's shoulder. His skin is chalky against the Gryffindor scarf and his eyes are shadowed and Neville would reach out and comfort him, only he's afraid that he'd cut himself on all the sharp ends.
"I haven't been getting much sleep," Harry says unnecessarily.
2.
In their seventh year, Hogwarts splits even further from the Ministry. Rules are relaxed and standards are changed and although the Ministry seethes with barely-contained rage at the sheer irresponsibility, they stand motionless because they cannot afford to lose the steady influx of Aurors and researchers.
Ron Weasley is the first Animagus: a dragonfly, fast and shimmering, and he compares himself to a Snitch. Hermione Granger is a parrot, but does not acknowledge the cruel useless irony of it. Pansy Parkinson is a hyena and Draco Malfoy is a komodo dragon and a boy in Hufflepuff is an elephant and it feels like a zoo sometimes, the new-found alteregos pushing at so many faces, turning them unfamiliar.
Neville is a platypus and he doesn't tell anyone. When the others sneak out to feel the night on alien skin, he begs off, staying indoors and shuffling through class notes. There are worse things to be than a platypus - a Ravenclaw is rumored to be a deformed goldfish - but it seems so ridiculous and pathetic that his eyes water and his throat burns and he'd rather people just think he wasn't talented enough to transform.
Harry isn't going public either, and Neville just assumes it's because of some top-secret plan to defeat Voldemort until something makes Neville confess, and Harry confesses back.
"A platypus? Oh, that's not so bad," he says. "I'm a caterpillar."
"But you'll turn into a butterfly, right?
"Nope. I looked it up. Animagi don't work that way. I'm just a caterpillar." He holds his hand up, thumb and forefinger an inch apart. "About that big."
"I'm sure you make a very good caterpillar," Neville says earnestly.
3.
Across from Neville is the reflection of Harry Potter.
Erised, he thinks, and moves closer.
He presses his hands to the mirror, and it's cool and smooth to the touch but it's not glass, because he can feel it give. He pushes harder, watches it bend beneath his fingers, warping the image. His nails bite into the surface and they move through it, seams stretching out from the cuts. Gashes, as the glass spreads apart. And suddenly it's like someone shoves him through because he's falling face-first through the soft ice and tumbling out onto the floor.
He looks up and sees Harry, still smiling.
"What're you doing down there?" Harry asks.
Neville blinks. He turns around, but there is no mirror, no other side. He presses his hands to his face and breathes deeply and decides that it was just a little breakdown, the kind they've all been having since their Occlumency classes started.
"C'mon," says Harry. "Let's get you off the ground."
4.
Neville asks, "Have you always been left-handed?" but the question is lost when Harry snakes that left hand under the sheets to pull him off with the air of a favor. Harry smiles with his teeth and Neville tilts his head to shake loose the deja-vu.
"It's okay," he says through uneven breaths. "It's not that bad."
"What's not that bad?" Harry asks.
"You - your Animagus form being a caterpillar."
"What? Where in the hell did you get that from? I'm a spider, I told you already, remember?"
Deja-vu. Neville scrunches his eyes shut and says, "Spider."
Harry rolls over onto his back. "Black widow. And I should go now." He kisses Neville on the corner of his mouth and slips out to his own bed.
And of course, of course Neville remembers now: how could he forget?
The next day, Neville combs his hair and brushes his teeth and eats a bowl of oatmeal and follows Harry&Ron&Hermione out to the school grounds. He listens while they talk animatedly about the war, and if he doesn't recall the specific incidents they discuss, he puts it down to faulty memory and moves on.
"Are you going to be safe, you think? When you go home for the holidays?" It's the first thing Neville's said so far and Hermione looks a little suprised. Ron just yawns.
"I don't think I'll have to deal with the Dursleys anymore," Harry says, and smiles that toothy smile that makes Neville's stomach hurt.
5.
"WE MUST DEFEND OURSELVES," Hermione shouts, and the crowd cheers. They're all wearing her handmade badges now. Ron's in the front row, eating Bertie Bott's Beans and winking up at Hermione.
"Great finale," Ron says when she steps down from the podium. "Really got me going."
Neville tries to keep up - they're walking quickly and his feet keep slipping on the rain-wet ground. "So we're going after the Death Eaters? Doesn't that seem a little risky?"
"Death Eaters? Why would we...Neville, you're not making any sense." Harry gives him an unreadable look.
"Neville, are you feeling okay?" Hermione asks quietly, and presses her hand to his forehead. "Is there something wrong?"
No, no, of course there's nothing wrong - he has been losing track of things lately, but hasn't everyone? Besides, he's always had a hard time remembering his assignments. He was never the smartest. And yes, he does remember now - of course -
"If you're sure," says Harry. "Then can we continue?"
They keep walking but Neville slows down, looking at the rush of students transforming around him: wolves and falcons and rabbits and frogs, jostling and biting for the front line.
"Harry, I don't - "
but Harry's already transformed, a black widow scuttling away.
"Harry, I don't understand this," Neville says quietly.
A passing Hufflepuff glares at him and holds out a copy of the Daily Prophet. "Try reading the news sometime," she says, and pushes past him, her arms sliding easily into wings.
Neville unrolls the paper and stares at the front page:
NEW MINISTER OF MAGIC SIGNED IN.
Beneath it, a picture of Voldemort smiling with sharp gleaming teeth.
Oh, fuck, deja-vu, Neville thinks, and the newspaper falls from his limp hands. "So... so who are we attacking?" he calls out weakly, but no one answers.
A/N: Apologies to Neil Gaiman and Paul Nougé - I promise I never meant to scratch up your ideas so much.