Written for Hogwarts' Around the World Event: Seychelles - Item: Sorting Hat, the Love In Motion Event: NevilleHarry, the Writing Club - Count Your Buttons: (song) "Chasing Cars" by Snow Patrol and the Duelling Lessons Assignment, Task 1: Write about trust between two people.

Word count: 1034

show me a garden that's bursting into life

Even though he had literally witnessed Voldemort's death, Neville still had a hard time believing it. It had been so… mundane, so peaceful and unlike everything that monster had been while alive that a part of Neville couldn't help but think that this was a trick.

But it wasn't. The body had been taken away—not to the Great Hall, because no one wanted their loved ones' bodies to rest near their murderer's, but to the room behind the Professors' table that Neville had never entered.

He wasn't hurt, apart from a few light burns on his hands and face, from when Voldemort had put the Sorting Hat on his head and set it on fire, but that could wait until the truly hurt were treated.

He wandered the grounds instead, looking for the wounded and survivors. It was on his second round through the inner court that he saw it—the Hat, right where it had fallen from his hands after the sword of Gryffindor had saved his life.

He had bent over to pick it up before he even knew what he was doing.

The Hat was still slightly warm, somehow—or maybe that was just the memory of the fire, lingering—and Neville nearly dropped it. He made sure to tighten his grip a bit, and dusted it. His fingers darkened with ashes and Neville's fingertips darkened with soot.

A pang of guilt stabbed his heart—if only he had been faster at pulling out the sword, if only he had thought to make sure the fire was truly extinguished, maybe none of this would have happened.

(The Hat had screamed inside Neville's mind as it burned, and it wasn't a sound Neville thought he could ever forget.)

He sat down on a piece of rubble that had once been a statue, resting the Hat across his knees.

He didn't hear Harry approaching until the other boy cleared his throat.

"Hey," Harry said, lips pulled into an uneasy smile, "how are you doing? I never thanked you for taking care of Nagini, did I? I knew you could do it."

Neville shrugged. "I'm fine, and it was my pleasure."

"Yeah, I can imagine," Harry replied, huffing out a laugh. It made his green eyes sparkle, and abruptly, Neville realized he had missed his friend. Those moments where he had thought Harry truly dead—where he'd had to consider that maybe Harry's last words had been to him instead of someone more deserving—had been excruciating.

Neville considered returning the favor by mentioning Voldemort, but the shadows on Harry's face told him it wouldn't be a good idea. Instead, he asked, "What brings you here? I thought you'd still be inside, with…" Harry's face fell instantly and Neville regretted saying anything.

"What are you doing out here?" Harry countered.

Neville gestured at the court and then at the Hat, still on his knees. "I was looking around for anyone still out when I found the Hat," he explained. "And then I just… sat down." He shrugged again. There really was no better way to explain it.

Even though Neville's explanation made no sense, Harry nodded like it did. "I couldn't stay. I…" He cut himself suddenly, swallowing. Neville had a feeling is next sentence had been going to be something like 'It's all my fault', and he was glad Harry hadn't said it. He wasn't sure how he'd have reacted.

"I just couldn't stay," Harry repeated before he shook his head. "Anyway," he said, changing the subject, "do you think it'll work again?"

"The Hat?" Neville asked, eyes falling to said object in surprise.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. I mean, it gave you the sword and all, but it hasn't really, er, done anything since…"

Neville was about to reply that he had no idea when the Hat moved suddenly. On anyone with an actual body, it'd have looked like some kind of spasm, on the Hat… Well, it still looked like that, just even more disturbing. Tentatively, Neville reached out and tugged it upright. Its voice, so muffled against Neville's legs until then, rang clearly through the air.

"I have been resting, thank you very much, Mr. Potter, something that you should really try sometime. I certainly wasn't dead or anything else you might have come up with," the Hat said, incensed.

For an instant, Neville thought Harry would take offense. Instead, his shoulders started shaking and he started laughing. It was an odd, almost rusty uncomfortable sound, but still so joyful it stole Neville's breath away. The Hat stared with a bemused kind of amusement.

"Glad to hear it," Harry finally retorted. He looked surprised by his own happiness, and Neville's heart ached, though he would probably feel the same in his friend's place.

The Hat huffed loudly before looking at them expectantly. "Well?! Are you two going to stand there all night or are you heading inside at some point?"

Neville saw Harry's shoulder tense at the idea, even as he started to get up, and intervened, resting a halting hand on Harry's forearm. 'Trust me?' he mouthed at Harry.

Harry's eyes searched his, looking impossibly green. 'Of course,' he mouthed back, and Neville's stomach flipped around.

"I have eyes, you know," the Hat interrupted, causing them both to blush.

"We know," Neville replied, rolling his eyes. "But also, we're going to stay here a little while longer, so you're welcome to close them."

The Hat grumbled but did so, and Neville smiled. "See? Going back inside can wait a little longer." He noticed then that his hand was still on Harry's arm, but he didn't move it—not when Harry hadn't made any move to remove it himself.

Harry stayed silent for a few minutes, back straight and eyes staring far ahead, but when he finally unwound it was a thing of beauty that stole Neville's breath away.

"Thanks," Harry said. Somehow, his voice didn't break the moment, only enhanced it, made it more real.

"You're welcome," Neville replied automatically. He asked, frowning, "Wait, what for?"

Harry simply shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Nothing," he said, but his hand found Neville's and he entwined their fingers together.