Matryoshka Vignettes
The Unforgiving Minute
By Jeconais
Neville Longbottom - Sat, May 2nd 1998, 10:30am
Neville Longbottom finished picking up the potions that were scattered over the floor and took a deep breath.
He couldn’t delay any longer. Much as he wanted to, this was it; this was his chance to overcome his fear.
He swallowed deeply, and then bent over the stationary form of Severus Snape, and lightly dripped the potion he had brought down his ex-Professor’s throat. He picked up Snape’s wand and snapped it absently.
It would take a few minutes for the potion to kick in, so he crossed his arms and waited, leaning against the counter in a studied pose of casualness.
Somehow it hadn’t been a surprise that Harry was alive.
With Harry gone, Gryffindor had lost its natural leader, and while he couldn’t, and wouldn’t, take Harry’s place, he had become the person that the other students turned to — the senior Gryffindor, if only by default.
And then he’d received a letter, and a Portkey, delivered by Hedwig.
We need to talk.
D.
There had never been any doubt as to who the 'D’ was. Everyone knew that the witch had taken ownership of Hedwig, and that she was waging a fiendish campaign against everyone who had ever stood against Harry.
His first reaction had been a tinge of fear, followed by some deep soul searching to check if he had ever said anything or done anything against Harry. As far as he could tell, he hadn’t.
So, like the Gryffindor he was, he activated the Portkey, and felt himself pulled through space. With Voldemort dead, and him being in his final year, he was allowed out of school most weekends.
He arrived somewhere unknown, and given the fact that it was night, it was probably at the other end of the Earth. He was on a beach with an absolutely gorgeous view of a dark ocean that sparkled beneath the moon and stars. A stone path led the way through some dense foliage that shimmered dark green where the moonlight touched it, and he followed it.
He thought about getting his wand out, but well, if Daphne wanted to hurt him, his wand wasn’t going to do much. He could feel his heart pounding faster than he wanted it to.
The path led up a slight hill, before it flattened and path went onward for another half a mile, past a lake, a waterfall, and a swimming pool. Finally, he came to a huge house that seemed to be made of glass.
With a pop, a house-elf appeared in front of him.
"Dobby?" Neville asked. He didn’t know why he was surprised; after all, he’d heard the rumours about the house-elf’s relationship with Harry, and even seen examples of it before Harry had died, as the two would often be seen talking together.
Dobby smiled at him and turned, leading him silently into what was the largest, airiest living room he had ever seen. The sofa alone probably could have fit most of Gryffindor House.
Daphne was sat comfortably near one of the corners. She looked as flawless as usual, even in what was pretty informal clothing — a summer dress, with her long black hair loose around her shoulders.
"I’m glad you could make it, Mr Longbottom. Please take a seat," she offered formally, indicating a space near her.
He gulped and walked over to her. His palms felt damp. She hadn’t said anything that could be regarded as even remotely hostile, but he still felt intimidated.
He could also see, now, just why Harry had fallen for her. As she had at school, Daphne appeared completely in control, as if she knew exactly where she was going, and how she was going to get there, and nothing at all would stop her. That sort of strength would have been so appealing to his friend. Someone who could be a true partner to him.
"I’m sorry," he said simply, as he sat down.
Daphne raised one eyebrow elegantly. "What ever for?" she asked. Her voice was a little warmer now, a little smoother.
"That you lost Harry," he explained. "For us, we lost a close friend; for you, it was so much more."
Daphne nodded slowly.
And that was when he knew. Without a doubt, he knew. There was no trace of sadness around Daphne, no loss of confidence, nothing at all. And it could only mean one of two things. One was that she was over his death already, but considering the raw emotion she had shown at his funeral, that was definitely not the case.
That left the other, inescapable conclusion. Harry was alive.
And it made even more sense, when you looked at what had happened afterwards. The things that had happened had been Slytherin, but they had Gryffindor tendencies as well. They taught people a lesson, but didn’t actually do much damage. As if a Slytherin and a Gryffindor were working together.
He smiled at her widely, relaxing for the first time. "That’s the best bit of news I’ve had in months," he grinned.
"What is?" Daphne asked, not a quiver on her face giving away what she was feeling.
"Sorry," Neville said, feeling buoyant, "but you’re too perfect."
"I am?"
"You are," he said. "Harry’s alive."
Harry clapped as he walked into the living room. "You owe me," he said to Daphne.
"Damnable Gryffindors," Daphne sighed.
Neville looked at Harry, and had to blink a few times. For a second, he had trouble recognising him. He had never seen Harry look so — so carefree and relaxed. He was wearing a pair of dark green shorts, and nothing else.
His body, pale the last time Neville had seen it, was now suntanned, and he appeared to have been working out a lot, because his muscles were much more evident.
In fact, Harry appeared more intimidating than before, as his confidence seemed to have grown with his new physique.
Harry took a seat next to Daphne, and idly took her hand, playing with her fingers.
"So you two did what you said you would? Left the Wizarding world and found a place in paradise?"
They both nodded.
"So why are you still paying attention to what goes on back there?"
"Because I had to fall for a damn Gryffindor," Daphne said, with a slight smile on her face.
Harry grinned at her, and it was the first time that Neville saw the grin that Daphne had described at the funeral.
"Because you don’t gain self-respect by becoming what you dislike," Harry explained. "As soon as I got over my initial anger at everyone..."
"He got all moody and started comparing himself to Dumbledore," Daphne interrupted. "Regardless of the situations being completely different, he did have a small point."
"Thank you," Harry said with another grin. "So we decided to have a bit of fun. My non-death is never going to be publicly announced, but I am going to tell my friends and family.
"Daph and I love it here, Dobby takes good care of us, and we have nearly everything we want."
"Apart from friends," Daphne said dryly. "Harry has convinced me I was just unlucky with my choices in the past, and that friends might be… pleasant.
"And more importantly, if we have children, at some stage they will have to go to school, and we can’t trust the Wizarding world at the moment, so we thought we’d change it."
It was the simplicity of the sentence that struck Neville more than anything else. They didn’t like something, so they were going to change it. As if changing the world was just as easy as turning the page in a book. Neither of them seemed to realise that it wasn’t easy, that it was difficult, hard work, and an incredible challenge. But then, maybe for them, it wasn’t. It was just something they had decided to do, so they were going to do it.
"How can I help?" he asked.
Harry laughed softly and nudged Daphne in the ribs.
"What is it about you Gryffindors?" Daphne asked, her voice was curious, not accusing. "That you just volunteer to help?"
"Trust," Neville said, after a moment’s thought. "I trust Harry."
"But not me?" Daphne asked, her voice still curious.
He nodded. "I don’t know you," he explained almost apologetically.
"You don’t," Daphne agreed. "And in other situations, you never would."
It was a statement of fact, not an insult.
"But, as my life seems to have been diverted by a hard-hitting Gryffindor, I am now Daphne Potter. Welcome, Neville Longbottom, to our home." She held out her hand.
Neville took it solemnly. "Congratulations," he offered.
"Thank you," Daphne said, and seemed to relax. She lifted her legs up and leant against Harry.
And for the first time, Neville saw the girl behind the Ice Queen mask, the girl that Harry had seen from the start. In a way, he envied Harry even more now, for having the strength to look at Daphne, and to blast his way through everything blocking his path to her.
"Now that we’re all acquainted," Harry said with a teasing glint in his eyes, "we have a — " he paused as if searching for the right words. "A combined present and challenge for you."
And now here he was, with his present and challenge about to awaken.
Snape started to move, muttering, "Potter, it was Potter," as he started to wake up.
Neville smiled slightly, Harry would be amused when he told him that Snape had recognised him.
Snape awoke with a large twitch that seemed to flex his entire body. The professor climbed to his feet, swearing and muttering under his breath, before he turned and stared at Neville in disbelief.
"What are you doing here, you incompetent moron?" Snape sneered.
Every past insult came back to Neville; every time Snape had insulted him, had sneered at him, had belittled him came back to him, and he felt like running away, like leaving, like hiding.
"Shut up," he said simply, his voice cold. His heart was racing, but he would not show that to Snape.
Snape’s eyes grew, and he pulled himself to his full height. "What did you say?" Snape roared.
Neville almost gulped, but he stopped himself. He would not show the weakness he felt to this man. He would not be intimidated any more. This was it, this was his chance. He would not let himself down. He would not let Harry and Daphne down.
"I said, 'Shut up,’" he repeated evenly. "And might I suggest you do something to clear your breath? It stinks."
Snape gaped at him. And then seemed to draw himself closer together.
"You owe me," Neville said, before Snape could yell again. "You owe me a life debt."
Snape paused and shook his head. "I owe you nothing."
"Without me, you would still be sleeping with your potions, until your body died of old age," Neville pointed out, folding his arms.
Snape sneered at him.
Neville shrugged and pulled out his wand. He used a curse that Daphne had taught him that paralysed the victim from the neck down, and he picked up the potion that Snape had made originally.
"Then you can rot here," he said cheerfully. "Goodnight, Snape." He moved over to toward the greasy professor.
"You’re not going to do it," Snape said disdainfully. "Release me at once."
"You seem to have forgotten," Neville said, bending over for effect, "that I hate you."
He sent a quick thank you mentally to Daphne. She had made him practice with her, and it had worked. Snape was good at intimidation, but Daphne was far better.
He reached out and pinched Snape’s nose, then pulled his hand away disgustedly, and wiped the slight grease from his fingers. He let his distaste show as he pulled a handkerchief out.
"Wait," Snape croaked.
Neville paused, and looked at him.
"I acknowledge the debt," Snape said formally.
Neville shivered slightly as his magic responded. "Excellent," he said brightly. "And while I have your attention, I’m calling in your debt to Harry’s father as well."
"You can’t do that," Snape protested.
"I can," Neville contradicted him.
"This is blackmail," Snape yelled.
"Fun, isn’t it?" Neville grinned. His heart was returning to normal now that Snape was immobile.
"What do you want?"
"Harry wants your promise that you will never reveal that he is alive," Neville said. "Swear, on your debt to his father, that you will not do or say anything that would either announce, or lead others to think, that he is alive." The phrasing was Daphne’s.
Snape looked disgusted. "I so swear," he grunted.
Neville nodded. "Now, the next thing; you are going to come with me, and work on potions. Specifically, a potion to cure my parents."
"Why?" Snape asked, still managing to load the word with absolute contempt, despite being held immobile.
"Because this place is a dump," Neville sniffed. "We have a much better home for you, where you can work properly. And after you’ve cured my parents, you’re going to fix the werewolf potion."
"How do you know about that?" Snape gasped.
"Daphne has been through all your notes," Neville replied, looking at Snape with contempt. He was starting to wonder just why he had ever thought the man was intimidating. He wasn’t. He was full of bluster and malice, but he was empty inside. He was a bully, pure and simple.
"If you do a good job with the werewolf potion," he continued, "you will be allowed to retire as you had planned, and you will never have to worry about money again."
Snape’s eyes gleamed with greed, and Neville almost sighed. The man wasn’t a Slytherin, not in the slightest. Daphne was a Slytherin, and the difference was like night and day.
Snape was just a nasty, petty, little man.
Neville reached into his pocket and pulled out a Portkey. He grabbed hold of Snape’s shoulder and activated it.
They appeared in a large room in a small castle in the heart of the Cotswolds, miles away from anywhere. Snape tried to Apparate, but the wards wouldn’t let him. Only when he was sure he couldn’t escape did Snape bother to look at his new surroundings. Neville watched as Snape’s eyes lit up as he stared at the potions chamber before him. Daphne had fitted it with everything that Snape could want, including the ingredients.
Neville removed the spell holding Snape still and watched as Snape lurched toward the shelves of ingredients.
"Food will be provided for you," Neville said. "You can walk around the house and the gardens, but I wouldn’t try going any further. We will be back to check on you regularly."
"Yes, yes," Snape said absently, moving toward one of the cauldrons.
"Your bedroom is next door," Neville finished. He shook his head. Snape seemed almost excited. In a way, Neville realised, this must be Snape’s idea of heaven. A puzzle to fix, all the potion ingredients he could ever need, and not actually having to deal with anyone.
"There is a full list of symptoms and observations on the wall," he added, and turned away.
"Longbottom," Snape called.
"What?" Neville asked.
"If I do it, and the Wolfsbane one, will I be allowed to stay?"
"If you do both," Neville said softly, offering Daphne’s final carrot, "This whole place will belong to you."
Snape’s eyes widened and he turned, gathering more ingredients and muttering to himself.
Neville touched his Portkey and returned to Harry and Daphne’s island. "It’s done," he said as he walked into their living room.
"How do you feel?" Harry asked.
Neville slowly smiled. "Like a man."
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run —
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And — which is more — you’ll be a Man my son!
Rudyard Kipling, If.