Potential Ending #5
They have two chairs that sit side-by-side in the yard. One is green velvet and lush; it's impervious to rain and never seems to stain. The other chair is white wicker, which Draco hates. He says it looks like something someone's nan would own, which is true. It's the only thing that Neville was able to salvage from his grandmother's home after the Last Battle. He'll get around to telling Draco this one day, when a little more time has passed and Draco's breathing doesn't become erratic at the mention of Past Events. Neville thinks the trauma of killing your own father could scar anyone, but maybe once Neville relates the lineage of the chair, Draco will leave off about it instead of continually trying to transfigure it into something more 'aesthetically pleasing'. Every time Neville changes it back, Draco sulks.
Neville tells him 'There are some things that should stay the same'.
They live on the edge of town in a small cottage, which suits Neville just fine. He's had enough of people and noise and large buildings where it's entirely too easy for people to hide in corners and curse the stuffing out of you.
Draco says he doesn't miss the Manor; he says he doesn't miss his old life. But Neville knows that if that were really true then Draco never would've salvaged the portrait of his mother that hangs in their sitting room. Neville knows that if Draco truly had no regrets, Neville would never find him talking to the portrait as though his mother were still alive.
They don't have a lot of visitors, which seems to suit them both just fine. If Neville really wants to see someone, he can walk the mile down the road to the pub and floo from their fireplace. Draco made it very clear that when they moved to the country there would be no fireplaces in their home. Apparently he was tired of people popping in at all hours of the day or night and trying to kill them. Neville understands his resolve.
Neville has a garden in the back of their home, which he works in first thing in the morning and late in the afternoon, after tea. Tending to his plants tends to alleviate the twitching of his right hand, and in the mornings Draco practises Quidditch moves that no one else will ever see. A long time ago, Draco used to try and entice Neville to practise with him, but Neville's never been that good on brooms, and eventually Draco let him be. Now Draco takes delight in buzzing over Neville's head as he prunes his lilies and talks quietly with the posies. Sometime Neville can feel Draco hovering overhead, watching him. It makes him feel strangely protected and safe.
At twenty-two, Neville has officially retired from the post-war clean-up. He's decided that he's sacrificed enough for the war effort by watching his friends die. Draco never announced he was retiring from anything, but anyone who was at the last battle could understand why he prefers a secluded life.
They live down the road from the sea, and in the afternoon they walk down to the beach to do nothing at all. Calling it a beach is a little generous as it's less sand and more rock, but there is a great stretch of water beyond the pebbles and fisherman's hut; it's enough to keep them satisfied.
Some afternoons they bring food along and have lunch by the water's edge. Sometimes they compete to see who can skip the most rocks along the surface of the water before they sink to the bottom. Draco always sulks when Neville wins, which makes Neville laugh. Sometimes he lets Draco win. Sometimes he just can't help himself.
They sit in their chairs twice every day, once for tea and again to watch the sunset and talk about whatever comes to mind. The sky these days is a calming shade of grayish-blue, as opposed to the months on end when it bled crimson and gold. They try not to talk about those days. Instead they talk about the plants that Neville is growing or Puddlemere's hopes for the cup. Draco thinks they're crap, especially now that Harry's playing for them, but when Neville points out that Draco could just as easily be playing for them Draco snorts and changes the topic.
At night they curl up in the huge brass bed that's their main piece of furniture and take solace in still wanting to be together, even after all this time.
Sometimes they touch cautiously; sometimes they play rough. Sometimes they simply tangle their limbs together and fall asleep, content to know that they should wake up in the morning and find the sun just as yellow as it was the day before, because if this is their ending; they're going to enjoy it.