The Marriage Law//Neville Longbottom

2

I woke up in a cold sweat at four in the morning. The nightmares haven't stopped, granted it has only been four months since the war. I quickly got up and went to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face, but not even that seemed to help. Voldemort's red eyes were etched into my mind like some terrifying Lite Brite. I could still feel his wand jabbing my throat as he put me under the cruciartus curse.

After calming myself down I knew there wasn't a chance at sleep left, so I went downstairs. I immediately noticed Harry sitting at the table with a mug of tea. His eyes tiredly reached mine and he smiled weakly at me. He likely has worse nightmares than me.

I made myself some tea as well and sat across from him. He nodded acknowledging me, to which I nodded back.

"Nightmare too?" He asks, stifling a yawn.

I nod, "Yes, particularly brutal tonight."

He frowns at me, "Was it of Voldemort?" He asks. I felt my throat tighten at the question.

"Precisely," I chuckle bitterly, despite nothing being funny. "What about you?" I ask returning his question.

Harry grimaces before responding, "Same here." We remain in silence before he speaks again. "I never thanked you for saving our arses," He chuckled slightly, taking a sip of his tea.

Why is this man thanking me? Shouldn't I be thanking him and praising him like some god? He literally saved the whole wizarding world from Voldemort. No one owes me thanks, if anything I owe everyone an apology. I was on the opposing side, I fought against them.

"Nonsense, Harry," I wave my hand in dismissal.

He shakes his head at me as if to tell me that he owes it to me. He knows he doesn't. But he doesn't say anything further. He finishes his tea and washes his mug before speaking again. His body turns toward me and he looks almost rueful. "He doesn't blame you, no one does."

With that, Harry leaves back up to his dorm with Ginny. He didn't bother elaborating when I gave him a confused look but simply nodded at me. Who doesn't blame me? If he means Neville, he's wrong. 

I finished my tea and washed my cup too, setting it on the drying rack before going upstairs to my dorm. Neville was still sleeping peacefully on the bed, snoring lightly. I took this as my opportunity to shower and get ready.

Once I managed to get my hair into a bun, I then applied some concealer to hide the bags that formed under my eyes and never seemed to leave. I also curled my eyelashes and put on some mascara.

I changed into a pair of jeans and a red knitted sweater. When I decided I was happy with my outfit, I left the room and glanced at the clock. It was now six in the morning and Neville seemed to be stirring slightly in his sleep.

Out of boredom, I decided to finish unpacking as quietly as possible, careful not to wake up the sleeping man in the bed across from me. Despite my efforts, he woke up around six-twenty due to me accidentally slamming a jammed drawer shut.

"Sorry," I apologized to him quickly but he shook his head as if to dismiss me before walking to the bathroom. He was still wearing his pajamas—Obviously— that looked so good on him. I never thought I would say it, but Neville Longbottom is attractive. He also isn't mine to have. Once we complete our task he will either divorce me if it is allowed or take a mistress. I'm rather opposed to the latter, but I wouldn't blame him.

He came out of the bathroom about thirty minutes later in a pair of jeans and a black jumper. His hair was still damp from his shower and was sprawled messily out across his forehead. He didn't say anything to me as he walked by. Not even a single ounce of acknowledgment. He left our dorm and headed downstairs.