Fic: "Between You and Me (Snapshots)" for sioniann
Title: Between You and Me (Snapshots)
Author: remarked
Recipient's name: sioniann
Rating: PG
Character(s): Colin, Neville.
Author Notes: For sioniann, who requested a whole load of things. Originally I had set out with a plan to write something dark, but in the end, that just didn't happen. This is written with the idea that each section is a 'snapshot' of a different part of their friendship, so it's a bit jumpy, but that's the point. Information on Neville and Colin is from HPL. Much thanks to P for the beta, and for whipping this thing into shape.
Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.
- Albert Camus
***
"Longbottom, Neville!"
They're watching you. They're all watching you. You don't have to look at them to know it - you can feel their eyes following you from the moment you step forward, away from the safe anonymity of the nervous-looking group of first years. It only takes a few short seconds to walk the distance from the huddled group to the intimidating, severe-looking Professor, but to you, it feels like an eternity.
You turn around, sit down on the stool, and gaze out at the endless sea of faces. You don't get much time to observe, though, because a second later McGonagall drops the hat over your head, the brim slipping down across your eyes, and you're suddenly occupied with trying not to sneeze - it smells old, you think, like dust and something else you can't quite place.
Nearly three minutes pass, and you shift uncomfortably, waiting for something - anything - to happen. A thousand thoughts run through your head, horrible things, like McGonagall ripping the hat off your head and telling you that yes, there was a mistake. That yes, you are a squib. That yes, you have to go home.
No, you think suddenly, pushing the negative thoughts away. No, no, no! You aren't a squib, you're a wizard! You're just like everyone else here, and you're going to be sorted and someday, you'll -
"GRYFFINDOR!"
You never do finish that thought.
***
You don't pay a bit of attention to the sorting. You know that you should, you really should, but you can't help yourself. You're so amazed by this new, magical world, and you can't stop your eyes, your mind, or your thoughts from wandering. You're here, you're really here, and it's real. All of it. You're a wizard, you think. You're special. You're different.
You gaze around, making little notes to yourself, mentally marking all the things and people that, eventually, you'd like to shoot. You want to take pictures of everything, want to capture it all, want to make it yours.
"Creevy, Colin!"
You're so caught up looking around for more things to take pictures of that it's not until the girl behind you - Ginny, if you remember correctly - nudges you that you even realize that your name's been called.
You step forward, and the world around fades away.
***
When you first meet Colin Creevy, it's the second day of school, and he almost kills you.
He doesn't do it on purpose, of course. You know it's an accident, and to be entirely honest, you have the feeling that it's probably more your fault than his. You're late for Potions (couldn't find your book), and you're not paying attention to where you're going. The only thing on your mind is what Snape will do to you when you show up late - you wouldn't put it past the Professor to use you to test some new, dangerous potion.
You're running fast, faster than you've ever ran before, and everything around you is a blur. You practically jump up a flight of steps, taking them two or three at a time, and you're just about to turn the corner when suddenly, you hear a small click and see a bright light. You feel your foot slip and -
- the next thing you know, you're in the infirmary. Your head feels like it's going to split in two, and when you finally manage to open your eyes, you see Professor McGonagall standing on the other side of the room with Madame Pomfrey. They're whispering, backs turned to you, but you manage to catch enough of the conversation to know that you took a nasty tumble down the stairs. You lean back and try to recall what happened, your head falling lazily to the side, and an annoyed looking boy sitting next to the bed comes into view.
He's staring at you.
"Hello," you say, shifting slightly, because you just hate when people stare at you. Your Great Uncle Algie used to stare at you when he didn't think you were looking. He would never say anything, just stare. But he didn't have to say anything, because his eyes would always say it for him. Each time he tried to trick you into doing magic, you could always see the disappointment in his eyes when nothing happened.
"You almost broke my camera," the boy replies, looking as though the mere thought pained him. "I hope you know that."
You aren't sure what to say to this, either, so you decide that it's probably best to just not say anything at all. But you guess that he wasn't expecting a reply, because he continues a second later. "But I almost killed you, I guess. I'm really sorry about that, by the way. Sometimes I forget that the flash on my camera is blinding - you know, since I'm always behind it."
You blink.
"Anyway," he continues, thrusting something into your hand. "You can have this, if you like."
You lift your hand up to see that he's handed you a photo. Upon closer inspection, you realize that it's you, flying backwards. You study it for a moment before a strangled laugh escapes your lips. You can't help it, but the expression on your face is just so strange, and it makes you laugh. The boy stares at you for a moment, looking slightly concerned for your sanity, but doesn't say anything.
You stare at the photo for a moment longer, then a thought comes to you. "I've got to thank you," you say. "You saved me from a detention with Snape. He can't give me one for missing class because I'm in here."
The boy blinks for a moment, but then a pleased sort of smile spreads across his face. "I'm Colin," he says, holding out his hand. "Colin Creevy."
You smile back at him, and reach for his hand. "Neville Longbottom."
***
The only thing that you and Neville Longbottom have in common is the fact that you're both in Gryffindor. Aside from that...well, you suppose you're as different as night and day.
Neville is shy, quiet. You, on the other hand - well, according to Dennis, the only time you aren't talking is when you're eating. Neville lives for the outdoors - you know that if you need to find him and he doesn't have a class, you'll be able to find him in the courtyard, or working in the greenhouses with Professor Sprout. You, on the other hand, only go outside for Care of Magical Creatures or to take pictures. You prefer the indoors, because inside, it's nice and warm and safe. Outside bad things happen. Things like getting struck by lightning, or getting eaten by a bear (Neville laughs when you tell him this, and assures you that there are no bears around Hogwarts).
You're good at Potions (you have to be, to develop your pictures). Neville is lucky not to blow himself up when he makes a potion. But Neville is a genius when it comes to Herbology. You? Well, you can barely tell a tree from a bush.
You tell your father all of this in your first letter to him, writing a neat list of your differences, of reasons why the two of you could never stay friends. You leave the part about almost killing Neville out, of course, because somehow you doubt that will impress him. You fully expect him to echo your thoughts when he writes back, to tell you that the friendship will never work, because you have nothing in common.
But he doesn't. His sharp, slanted hand tells you that it's because you aren't the same that you'll grow to be great friends. He says that your differences are what will make it work. He tells you that, in time, you will teach each other many things.
You aren't quite sure what he means by that last bit, so you stuff the letter in the bedside table and decide you'll try to figure it out later - it's nearly time for lunch, and you're starving.
***
Madame Pomfrey tells you that it's very likely Colin can't see you, that he can't hear you, that he doesn't - and won't - know you're there. But you don't care. You visit him daily, sitting beside the bed for hours. You tell Colin about your family, about your grandmother.
About your parents.
You tell him that you cry after visits with your parents, hiding away where your grandmother can't find you. You tell him that you have a box under your bed that you keep your mother's wrappers in. You tell him that you hate Bellatrix Lestrange, and that you wish they'd have killed her. You tell him that Azkaban, that the dementors aren't good enough, because she doesn't have a soul for them to hurt.
You tell him this because it's Colin, and Colin is your friend. Your best friend, you think. You tell him this because you, well, you have to tell someone, you suppose. You tell him this because even though Pomfrey says he can't hear you, that he won't remember this, a small part of you hopes he will.
***
It's the summer before your second year, and you're spending the last two weeks of break with Neville and his Grandmother, in Lancashire. His house is huge, you think as he shows you around, far to big for just two people. He takes you to Blackpool Pier, and tells you about the time that his Great Uncle Algie pushed him off of it. Upon seeing the horrified expression on your face, he assures you that it was only to help him show some magical ability.
"What's Azkaban?" you ask, glancing at the article headlining the front of the Daily Prophet. It's early in the morning, and you and Neville are sitting at the kitchen table as Mrs. Longbottom moves around the kitchen, making breakfast. You watch as Neville and his grandmother talk, and although she comes off as almost cold, it's clear to you that his grandmother is very fond of him.
"It's a prison," Neville mumbles, stifling a yawn. "It's where they send witches and wizards when they do something like commit murder. It's supposed to be really horrible there."
"Oh," you say, picking up the paper and glancing at the article again. "It says here that someone named Sirius Black has escaped."
The two of you practically jump out of your seats when Neville's grandmother drops the plate she's holding. The older woman whirls around, nearly ripping the paper from your hands. You watch as she scans it, a horrified look on her face. Without a word, Mrs. Longbottom disappears down the hall, mumbling something about Dumbledore.
You stare at the hall for a moment before turning to a pale, silent Neville. "What's the big deal? People escape from prison all the time."
Neville shakes his head. "No one has ever escaped from Azkaban before, Colin, and Sirius Black isn't just any prisoner."
"He isn't?"
"No, he isn't. Black killed twelve Muggles with a single curse." Neville whispers. He pauses for a moment, giving a quick glance around to make sure his grandmother isn't coming, then leans in closer. "You can't tell anyone this, Colin, but...Gran once told me that Sirius Black was responsible for Harry's parents being killed. He was James Potter's best friend, you know. Really close, and in the end, he just tossed them over to You-Know-Who without a second thought."
"That's - " you trail off, unsure of what to say.
Neville just nods, as if he knows exactly what you're thinking.
***
"There, that's my brother!" Colin says excitedly, pointing to a small, brown-haired boy at the back of the line.
"Why is he wet?" you ask, studying the younger Creevy with interest. He's chatting with one of the other first-years, waving his hands in a very amusing sort of way. When he does that, he looks just like a smaller, louder (if that's even possible) version of his brother. You decide, however, that it's probably not a good idea to point this out to Colin.
Colin blinks, tilting his head to the side, a pensive sort expression on his face. "I don't know. He probably jumped into the lake or something. He likes to do stupid things like that a lot."
You grin, and then ask the one question you can't help but ask. "Is he into photography, like you?"
"No," Colin says, still staring at his brother. "He thinks that photography is stupid, but I think that's just because Dad bought me a camera and wouldn't get one for him. He wasn't responsible enough for one when I got mine, and I think he's just being sore about it. Anyway, Dennis likes to draw."
With that, Colin rushes over to say hello to his brother before the sorting. You shake your head and take your seat, and wonder to yourself if you'll be able to survive having two of them running around.
***
" - I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory."1
You snap to attention, pushing yourself up and out of your seat with everyone else. You grab your glass, your eyes moving around the Great Hall at a furious pace, taking in the somber, empty looks upon your classmates faces. You catch a glimpse of Harry on the other end of the table, looking as though he might throw up at any moment.
Your gaze slides up the table to Neville. He's standing beside you, shaking, and you know he's trying not to cry. He wasn't close to Cedric Diggory - as far as you know, the only time the two ever spoke was when they were helping Professor Sprout in the greenhouses. But that doesn't really matter, because Neville is the sort that cares for everyone he meets, and you know he'll take this hard.
"To Cedric Diggory," you mumble, your voice hollow and empty and blending in with the rest.
You glance around one last time, taking everything in. You don't have your camera with you, but you don't need it, because the image (one you never want to see again) is burned into the back of your mind, and no matter how many times you try, you can never quite make it disappear.
***
"Colin!"
Colin whirls around, trusty camera in hand, and you're expecting the flash long before he makes a move. Ducking out of the way, you grin at the infuriated look on his face.
"Neville!" He screeches, waving his arms around angrily, obviously not caring that people are beginning to look at him strangely. "You made me waste a shot!"
"I'm sorry, Colin," you say, grinning. This only seems to infuriate him further, so you kneel down and open your trunk, and pull out a box. "I got you something. Maybe it'll make up for it?"
Colin looks at you suspiciously, but takes the package from your hands anyway. He turns it around in his hands, studying it. "What is it?"
You raise an eyebrow. "It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, now would it?"
He scowls, but tears the wrapping away anyway, eyes going wide. "You bought me a photo album?"
You nod. "Yeah, I saw it over the summer and thought maybe you could use one? To keep track of all your photos - I noticed your old one was full."
Colin smiles, genuinely pleased. "Thank you, Neville."
You smile.
***
Click.
Neville barely has time to react, throwing a gloved hand in front of his face as quickly as possible. It's useless, though, and the moment the light fades away, he shoots you the most annoyed look that he can muster (which, to be honest, really isn't all that annoyed). You laugh, unfazed by his glare, and wander lazily across the greenhouse to see what he's doing.
"What's that?" You ask, pointing to whatever he's working with. It is, quite possibly, the ugliest thing you have ever seen.
"Don't you pay any attention in Herbology, Colin?" Neville murmurs, raising an eyebrow in your general direction.
"Nope." You reply easily, watching him dump some more dirt on the thing in the pot. "So what is it? It kinda looks like a cactus, but it doesn't have any spines."
"This is Mimbulus mimbletonia," Neville answers, shaking his head in amusement. "This is the third time you've asked me that, you know."
"Oh," you say. "Well, it's rather ugly, don't you think?"
Neville doesn't answer, and although you think it's ugly, you take a picture of it anyway.
***
It's the summer before your sixth year, and you're spending the last week of break with Colin. Their house is slightly shabby and small, almost to the point of not being large enough for the family, but it's cozy nonetheless, and you find yourself feeling right at home.
You have never seen so many Muggle things before, and you're fascinated by everything. You suppose, when you take a moment to think about it, that this must be how Muggle-borns feel when they first get their letters and come to Hogwarts - awed, and maybe even slightly intimidated. But intimidated or not, your fascination eventually wins out, and you take time to examine everything from the telephone to the microwave.
Colin takes a special delight in introducing you the 'telly', a square box in the sitting room. You spend what seems like hours studying it (in reality, it's only about ten minutes), and Colin sits on floor, watching your every movement with a tiny, amused grin.
"Colin, how do they get these little people inside it?" you say finally, looking away from the box just in time to see Colin choke on his drink.
"What?"
"These little people. How do they get them in there?" you repeat, pointing to the telly.
Colin stares at you for a long moment, then suddenly laughs. "Neville, the people aren't actually in the telly."
You blink. "What do you mean?"
"Here, I'll try to explain it to you." Colin says, sitting up and grinning at you. The two of you spend the rest of the evening in the sitting room, watching movies and playing chess, and Colin tries his best to explain how it works to you. You don't understand everything he says, but that's okay, because you know it really doesn't matter.
***
Colin sees the world in snapshots. A moment, a second, a secret at a time. He watches the world around him through wide, curious eyes. He sees the things that you - that everyone else - can't. His camera is always in hand, always ready to capture even the most insignificant occurrence on film.
The day of the leaving feast, you and Colin skip dinner, and he teaches you how to use his camera. He shows you how to hold it, how to turn the flash on and off, and how to advance the film. He shows you when the perfect time to take a shot is (when the light is just perfect), and then the two of you go inside and he shows you how to develop the pictures.
It's not the most exciting thing the two of you have ever done, but it's you and it's Colin and it's yours, and that's really all it has to be.
1 This line comes from GoF, chapter 37, "The Beginning".
Author: remarked
Recipient's name: sioniann
Rating: PG
Character(s): Colin, Neville.
Author Notes: For sioniann, who requested a whole load of things. Originally I had set out with a plan to write something dark, but in the end, that just didn't happen. This is written with the idea that each section is a 'snapshot' of a different part of their friendship, so it's a bit jumpy, but that's the point. Information on Neville and Colin is from HPL. Much thanks to P for the beta, and for whipping this thing into shape.
Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.
- Albert Camus
***
"Longbottom, Neville!"
They're watching you. They're all watching you. You don't have to look at them to know it - you can feel their eyes following you from the moment you step forward, away from the safe anonymity of the nervous-looking group of first years. It only takes a few short seconds to walk the distance from the huddled group to the intimidating, severe-looking Professor, but to you, it feels like an eternity.
You turn around, sit down on the stool, and gaze out at the endless sea of faces. You don't get much time to observe, though, because a second later McGonagall drops the hat over your head, the brim slipping down across your eyes, and you're suddenly occupied with trying not to sneeze - it smells old, you think, like dust and something else you can't quite place.
Nearly three minutes pass, and you shift uncomfortably, waiting for something - anything - to happen. A thousand thoughts run through your head, horrible things, like McGonagall ripping the hat off your head and telling you that yes, there was a mistake. That yes, you are a squib. That yes, you have to go home.
No, you think suddenly, pushing the negative thoughts away. No, no, no! You aren't a squib, you're a wizard! You're just like everyone else here, and you're going to be sorted and someday, you'll -
"GRYFFINDOR!"
You never do finish that thought.
***
You don't pay a bit of attention to the sorting. You know that you should, you really should, but you can't help yourself. You're so amazed by this new, magical world, and you can't stop your eyes, your mind, or your thoughts from wandering. You're here, you're really here, and it's real. All of it. You're a wizard, you think. You're special. You're different.
You gaze around, making little notes to yourself, mentally marking all the things and people that, eventually, you'd like to shoot. You want to take pictures of everything, want to capture it all, want to make it yours.
"Creevy, Colin!"
You're so caught up looking around for more things to take pictures of that it's not until the girl behind you - Ginny, if you remember correctly - nudges you that you even realize that your name's been called.
You step forward, and the world around fades away.
***
When you first meet Colin Creevy, it's the second day of school, and he almost kills you.
He doesn't do it on purpose, of course. You know it's an accident, and to be entirely honest, you have the feeling that it's probably more your fault than his. You're late for Potions (couldn't find your book), and you're not paying attention to where you're going. The only thing on your mind is what Snape will do to you when you show up late - you wouldn't put it past the Professor to use you to test some new, dangerous potion.
You're running fast, faster than you've ever ran before, and everything around you is a blur. You practically jump up a flight of steps, taking them two or three at a time, and you're just about to turn the corner when suddenly, you hear a small click and see a bright light. You feel your foot slip and -
- the next thing you know, you're in the infirmary. Your head feels like it's going to split in two, and when you finally manage to open your eyes, you see Professor McGonagall standing on the other side of the room with Madame Pomfrey. They're whispering, backs turned to you, but you manage to catch enough of the conversation to know that you took a nasty tumble down the stairs. You lean back and try to recall what happened, your head falling lazily to the side, and an annoyed looking boy sitting next to the bed comes into view.
He's staring at you.
"Hello," you say, shifting slightly, because you just hate when people stare at you. Your Great Uncle Algie used to stare at you when he didn't think you were looking. He would never say anything, just stare. But he didn't have to say anything, because his eyes would always say it for him. Each time he tried to trick you into doing magic, you could always see the disappointment in his eyes when nothing happened.
"You almost broke my camera," the boy replies, looking as though the mere thought pained him. "I hope you know that."
You aren't sure what to say to this, either, so you decide that it's probably best to just not say anything at all. But you guess that he wasn't expecting a reply, because he continues a second later. "But I almost killed you, I guess. I'm really sorry about that, by the way. Sometimes I forget that the flash on my camera is blinding - you know, since I'm always behind it."
You blink.
"Anyway," he continues, thrusting something into your hand. "You can have this, if you like."
You lift your hand up to see that he's handed you a photo. Upon closer inspection, you realize that it's you, flying backwards. You study it for a moment before a strangled laugh escapes your lips. You can't help it, but the expression on your face is just so strange, and it makes you laugh. The boy stares at you for a moment, looking slightly concerned for your sanity, but doesn't say anything.
You stare at the photo for a moment longer, then a thought comes to you. "I've got to thank you," you say. "You saved me from a detention with Snape. He can't give me one for missing class because I'm in here."
The boy blinks for a moment, but then a pleased sort of smile spreads across his face. "I'm Colin," he says, holding out his hand. "Colin Creevy."
You smile back at him, and reach for his hand. "Neville Longbottom."
***
The only thing that you and Neville Longbottom have in common is the fact that you're both in Gryffindor. Aside from that...well, you suppose you're as different as night and day.
Neville is shy, quiet. You, on the other hand - well, according to Dennis, the only time you aren't talking is when you're eating. Neville lives for the outdoors - you know that if you need to find him and he doesn't have a class, you'll be able to find him in the courtyard, or working in the greenhouses with Professor Sprout. You, on the other hand, only go outside for Care of Magical Creatures or to take pictures. You prefer the indoors, because inside, it's nice and warm and safe. Outside bad things happen. Things like getting struck by lightning, or getting eaten by a bear (Neville laughs when you tell him this, and assures you that there are no bears around Hogwarts).
You're good at Potions (you have to be, to develop your pictures). Neville is lucky not to blow himself up when he makes a potion. But Neville is a genius when it comes to Herbology. You? Well, you can barely tell a tree from a bush.
You tell your father all of this in your first letter to him, writing a neat list of your differences, of reasons why the two of you could never stay friends. You leave the part about almost killing Neville out, of course, because somehow you doubt that will impress him. You fully expect him to echo your thoughts when he writes back, to tell you that the friendship will never work, because you have nothing in common.
But he doesn't. His sharp, slanted hand tells you that it's because you aren't the same that you'll grow to be great friends. He says that your differences are what will make it work. He tells you that, in time, you will teach each other many things.
You aren't quite sure what he means by that last bit, so you stuff the letter in the bedside table and decide you'll try to figure it out later - it's nearly time for lunch, and you're starving.
***
Madame Pomfrey tells you that it's very likely Colin can't see you, that he can't hear you, that he doesn't - and won't - know you're there. But you don't care. You visit him daily, sitting beside the bed for hours. You tell Colin about your family, about your grandmother.
About your parents.
You tell him that you cry after visits with your parents, hiding away where your grandmother can't find you. You tell him that you have a box under your bed that you keep your mother's wrappers in. You tell him that you hate Bellatrix Lestrange, and that you wish they'd have killed her. You tell him that Azkaban, that the dementors aren't good enough, because she doesn't have a soul for them to hurt.
You tell him this because it's Colin, and Colin is your friend. Your best friend, you think. You tell him this because you, well, you have to tell someone, you suppose. You tell him this because even though Pomfrey says he can't hear you, that he won't remember this, a small part of you hopes he will.
***
It's the summer before your second year, and you're spending the last two weeks of break with Neville and his Grandmother, in Lancashire. His house is huge, you think as he shows you around, far to big for just two people. He takes you to Blackpool Pier, and tells you about the time that his Great Uncle Algie pushed him off of it. Upon seeing the horrified expression on your face, he assures you that it was only to help him show some magical ability.
"What's Azkaban?" you ask, glancing at the article headlining the front of the Daily Prophet. It's early in the morning, and you and Neville are sitting at the kitchen table as Mrs. Longbottom moves around the kitchen, making breakfast. You watch as Neville and his grandmother talk, and although she comes off as almost cold, it's clear to you that his grandmother is very fond of him.
"It's a prison," Neville mumbles, stifling a yawn. "It's where they send witches and wizards when they do something like commit murder. It's supposed to be really horrible there."
"Oh," you say, picking up the paper and glancing at the article again. "It says here that someone named Sirius Black has escaped."
The two of you practically jump out of your seats when Neville's grandmother drops the plate she's holding. The older woman whirls around, nearly ripping the paper from your hands. You watch as she scans it, a horrified look on her face. Without a word, Mrs. Longbottom disappears down the hall, mumbling something about Dumbledore.
You stare at the hall for a moment before turning to a pale, silent Neville. "What's the big deal? People escape from prison all the time."
Neville shakes his head. "No one has ever escaped from Azkaban before, Colin, and Sirius Black isn't just any prisoner."
"He isn't?"
"No, he isn't. Black killed twelve Muggles with a single curse." Neville whispers. He pauses for a moment, giving a quick glance around to make sure his grandmother isn't coming, then leans in closer. "You can't tell anyone this, Colin, but...Gran once told me that Sirius Black was responsible for Harry's parents being killed. He was James Potter's best friend, you know. Really close, and in the end, he just tossed them over to You-Know-Who without a second thought."
"That's - " you trail off, unsure of what to say.
Neville just nods, as if he knows exactly what you're thinking.
***
"There, that's my brother!" Colin says excitedly, pointing to a small, brown-haired boy at the back of the line.
"Why is he wet?" you ask, studying the younger Creevy with interest. He's chatting with one of the other first-years, waving his hands in a very amusing sort of way. When he does that, he looks just like a smaller, louder (if that's even possible) version of his brother. You decide, however, that it's probably not a good idea to point this out to Colin.
Colin blinks, tilting his head to the side, a pensive sort expression on his face. "I don't know. He probably jumped into the lake or something. He likes to do stupid things like that a lot."
You grin, and then ask the one question you can't help but ask. "Is he into photography, like you?"
"No," Colin says, still staring at his brother. "He thinks that photography is stupid, but I think that's just because Dad bought me a camera and wouldn't get one for him. He wasn't responsible enough for one when I got mine, and I think he's just being sore about it. Anyway, Dennis likes to draw."
With that, Colin rushes over to say hello to his brother before the sorting. You shake your head and take your seat, and wonder to yourself if you'll be able to survive having two of them running around.
***
" - I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory."1
You snap to attention, pushing yourself up and out of your seat with everyone else. You grab your glass, your eyes moving around the Great Hall at a furious pace, taking in the somber, empty looks upon your classmates faces. You catch a glimpse of Harry on the other end of the table, looking as though he might throw up at any moment.
Your gaze slides up the table to Neville. He's standing beside you, shaking, and you know he's trying not to cry. He wasn't close to Cedric Diggory - as far as you know, the only time the two ever spoke was when they were helping Professor Sprout in the greenhouses. But that doesn't really matter, because Neville is the sort that cares for everyone he meets, and you know he'll take this hard.
"To Cedric Diggory," you mumble, your voice hollow and empty and blending in with the rest.
You glance around one last time, taking everything in. You don't have your camera with you, but you don't need it, because the image (one you never want to see again) is burned into the back of your mind, and no matter how many times you try, you can never quite make it disappear.
***
"Colin!"
Colin whirls around, trusty camera in hand, and you're expecting the flash long before he makes a move. Ducking out of the way, you grin at the infuriated look on his face.
"Neville!" He screeches, waving his arms around angrily, obviously not caring that people are beginning to look at him strangely. "You made me waste a shot!"
"I'm sorry, Colin," you say, grinning. This only seems to infuriate him further, so you kneel down and open your trunk, and pull out a box. "I got you something. Maybe it'll make up for it?"
Colin looks at you suspiciously, but takes the package from your hands anyway. He turns it around in his hands, studying it. "What is it?"
You raise an eyebrow. "It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, now would it?"
He scowls, but tears the wrapping away anyway, eyes going wide. "You bought me a photo album?"
You nod. "Yeah, I saw it over the summer and thought maybe you could use one? To keep track of all your photos - I noticed your old one was full."
Colin smiles, genuinely pleased. "Thank you, Neville."
You smile.
***
Click.
Neville barely has time to react, throwing a gloved hand in front of his face as quickly as possible. It's useless, though, and the moment the light fades away, he shoots you the most annoyed look that he can muster (which, to be honest, really isn't all that annoyed). You laugh, unfazed by his glare, and wander lazily across the greenhouse to see what he's doing.
"What's that?" You ask, pointing to whatever he's working with. It is, quite possibly, the ugliest thing you have ever seen.
"Don't you pay any attention in Herbology, Colin?" Neville murmurs, raising an eyebrow in your general direction.
"Nope." You reply easily, watching him dump some more dirt on the thing in the pot. "So what is it? It kinda looks like a cactus, but it doesn't have any spines."
"This is Mimbulus mimbletonia," Neville answers, shaking his head in amusement. "This is the third time you've asked me that, you know."
"Oh," you say. "Well, it's rather ugly, don't you think?"
Neville doesn't answer, and although you think it's ugly, you take a picture of it anyway.
***
It's the summer before your sixth year, and you're spending the last week of break with Colin. Their house is slightly shabby and small, almost to the point of not being large enough for the family, but it's cozy nonetheless, and you find yourself feeling right at home.
You have never seen so many Muggle things before, and you're fascinated by everything. You suppose, when you take a moment to think about it, that this must be how Muggle-borns feel when they first get their letters and come to Hogwarts - awed, and maybe even slightly intimidated. But intimidated or not, your fascination eventually wins out, and you take time to examine everything from the telephone to the microwave.
Colin takes a special delight in introducing you the 'telly', a square box in the sitting room. You spend what seems like hours studying it (in reality, it's only about ten minutes), and Colin sits on floor, watching your every movement with a tiny, amused grin.
"Colin, how do they get these little people inside it?" you say finally, looking away from the box just in time to see Colin choke on his drink.
"What?"
"These little people. How do they get them in there?" you repeat, pointing to the telly.
Colin stares at you for a long moment, then suddenly laughs. "Neville, the people aren't actually in the telly."
You blink. "What do you mean?"
"Here, I'll try to explain it to you." Colin says, sitting up and grinning at you. The two of you spend the rest of the evening in the sitting room, watching movies and playing chess, and Colin tries his best to explain how it works to you. You don't understand everything he says, but that's okay, because you know it really doesn't matter.
***
Colin sees the world in snapshots. A moment, a second, a secret at a time. He watches the world around him through wide, curious eyes. He sees the things that you - that everyone else - can't. His camera is always in hand, always ready to capture even the most insignificant occurrence on film.
The day of the leaving feast, you and Colin skip dinner, and he teaches you how to use his camera. He shows you how to hold it, how to turn the flash on and off, and how to advance the film. He shows you when the perfect time to take a shot is (when the light is just perfect), and then the two of you go inside and he shows you how to develop the pictures.
It's not the most exciting thing the two of you have ever done, but it's you and it's Colin and it's yours, and that's really all it has to be.
1 This line comes from GoF, chapter 37, "The Beginning".