Chapter Text
Neville was having a Bad Day.
One Bad Day in a series of Bad Days, to be honest.
First, he managed to explode three cauldrons consecutively in his Double Potions class, before then tipping over a fourth and releasing what seemed to be an alive thick paste into the classroom with the students. He earned himself a week’s detention, which he knew he deserved, but it still sucked ass.
Next was the mess that was Charms class. They were revisiting the summoning charm - this time with heavier objects, and Neville had known then that this wasn’t going to end well - and the majority of the class did wonderfully, summoning and banishing their items with ease.
Key word being majority .
Neville, on the other hand, sent five vases flying out of the window, two teapots smashing into the wall, and one accidental chair crashing into the ceiling.
Neville figured he was right to believe that so far, this qualified as a Bad Day.
He was quite relieved to return to his dormitory in the Gryffindor Tower at the end of a long and tiring Bad Day filled with unfortunate scenarios and devastating accidents. He fell asleep with the hope that tomorrow would be better.
He should have known that that would not be the case.
The morning started off well enough, he awoke earlier than the others, and dressed without tripping over, so he deemed that a success. Then he remembered that he had a whole day of nothing to do, and that he should go and find the Herbology book that Professor Sprout had recommended.
He didn’t walk in on anyone in the bathroom, which was always a plus.
He didn’t fall down the Tower stairs, which was a huge accomplishment, what with his two left feet.
He didn’t even run into Filch on his early trek down to the library, which was honestly a massive relief.
Overall, this morning was feeling pretty great.
The sunlight filtering in through the windows in the halls allowed him to see the thousands of small specs of dust drifting in the air, and he stared in awe at the fluid motions that to him looked like dancing. But he wouldn’t really know, dancing had never come naturally to him. Nothing had.
He got to the library soon enough, and wandered over to the Herbology section. The shelves were dusty and unused, the books mostly mouldy and with fraying spines, their covers peeling and ripped; but that didn’t matter to him. This section of the library was like another home. As he scanned through the books, he heard a peculiar sound.
A hiss.
That couldn’t be right. Animals weren’t allowed in the library! He shrugged, assuming it was McGonagall scaring off some first-years or something, and settled down in a shadowy alcove amongst the shelves as he pulled down the one he wanted.
But there was another noise. This one sounded more human… a voice!
He peeked around the corner of shelves, and sitting a few metres away, was a black kitten.
A talking cat? What the-
No, he got it wrong. There was Harry Potter, staring down at the cat with a look of exasperation. The voice had belonged to him. Of course. Neville was about to go over and say hello, as he’d always been friendly with Harry - he was one of the only Slytherins that left him alone, and encouraged others to do so, too.
But then he realised that Harry didn’t even have a pet cat.
And he didn’t have any interest in Herbology.
And he was looking at the cat like… like…
Like it could understand him.
"Lemme guess: you ate the special type of mushroom, got high as fuck, and spontaneously turned into a cat." he said, expression deadpan. The cat hissed and scratched a book on a shelf.
“I am not picking up that book.” he told the cat, and the cat was- the cat was glaring at him?
Neville was quite confused now, and whenever he was confused and shocked at the same time, his body tended to freeze up, and all he could do was stare at the… confrontation?
What the fuck…
Harry picked up the book.
Neville couldn’t see the title from where he sat, but he could see that it was just as grubby and dirty as any of the others, so he could understand Harry’s reluctance to touch it. What he didn’t understand was why on earth he was taking orders from a cat.
A slip of parchment fell from the book’s pages, and Harry took a moment to inform the cat: “You’re mental.” before swiping up the note and reading it.
A second later, he snorted. The cat hissed again.
After around a minute, Harry sighed heavily and stared at the cat with an expression that Neville could only describe as Tired. He’d seen his Gran give him the same look when he’d done something particularly stupid.
“You’re such an idiot,” he told the cat, though Neville was starting to wonder if it even was a cat. Harry sighed again and did a spell that Neville couldn’t hear, and then Neville knew that the cat was definitely not a cat at all.
Because suddenly, in the cat’s place, was a very dishevelled, and a very naked Tom Riddle.
Neville couldn’t even function enough to cover his eyes.
Harry squeaked at the sight, and Neville found a slither of comfort in the fact that he wasn’t the only one that was incredibly flustered here.
“Why the fuck did you do it now ?” Tom asked angrily, trying to cover himself with his hands. It wasn’t working too well.
“You didn’t say you’d be naked!” Harry whisper-shouted, still looking the other direction. Tom was wearing an expression that looked as though he wanted to murder Harry, though Neville knew he wouldn’t have to be concerned about that. If it were someone else there in Harry’s place, then he’d worry. But this was Harry, and Neville knew that Tom wouldn’t hurt him.
“It’s kind of common sense, Harry-”
"Are you really gonna try talking about common sense after trying to gain immortality from a cat body? You're not in a position to judge stupidity after pulling off a stunt like that."
"It was a reasonable theory."
"No, it was a bullshit theory! Everyone knows cats don't actually have nine lives, Tom! It's a myth!"
"Muggles think magic is a myth," Tom pointed out. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd rather not be having a naked argument in the library.”
Neville would rather that, too, as he was becoming both incredibly confused and incredibly embarrassed at having listened in for so long.
He watched as Harry handed over his outer school robe - why was he wearing uniform? - and as Tom pulled the too-small clothes over himself. Harry turned back to look at him then, and smirked at what he saw.
“What’re you smiling at?” Tom asked with an annoyed edge to his voice that would’ve made anyone else hesitate, but Harry just smiled some more.
“Your hair’s all messed up.” he stated, and Tom rolled his eyes.
Neville struggled to stay quiet as Harry leaned over and planted a small kiss on one of Tom’s blushing cheeks before pulling away and taking one of his hands. “Come on, before someone sees Perfect Tom Riddle looking like he’s been living like an animal- oh wait…” he trailed off, and Neville blinked in confusion as Harry laughed at Tom’s scowl.
He felt as though he was definitely missing something.
“You love me,” Harry said in a chirpy tone, and Neville held his breath in shock. Riddle didn’t love anyone…
But Tom’s expression was softening, and he tightened his grip on Harry’s hand.
“I do, you brat.”
They walked out of the library, leaving behind a very confused and equally traumatised Neville Longbottom in the Herbology section.
Because Neville, who generally blended into the bookshelves, had witnessed everything.
He made a mental note to ask the matron for an Obliviate.