Neville balanced the tray carefully on his wand. He managed to make it back in bed before Harry woke up, and even better, managed not to spill the tea or the toast.
"Tea?" Harry opened his eyes. They glowed in the afternoon light. "Did I fall asleep again?" He sat up and leaned against the headboard.
"You always do." Neville handed him a cup, the heat filling his hand. "I think I bore you." He smiled.
"Oh, yes. Of course, you do." He kissed Neville softly. "That's why I...well." He sighed and took a sip. "Why I wish I could stay with you."
"You wouldn't leave her."
"I *can't* leave her. Wizarding weddings last forever. Because you can make that decision at the age of twenty when you don't even know who you are or what you want." His voice was as bitter as the stewed tea in Neville's cup - he'd never got that right. "And then I fell in love with you, and she fell for the brother of the other Chaser and we're both stuck. She's pregnant again, you know. We're hoping for a girl."
Neville bit his lip. "Must you?"
"No. No, I don't. Never again." The tray spilled after all, but a spell took care of the mess, and Neville could lose himself in fantasy of Harry's arms.