Neville Longbottom

Moving Day

2007-11-11T01:46:14Z

Today's the day I finally move Hannah and me the rest of the way into the Longbottom Manor. It felt so cold without Gran . . . but now I have Hannah to make it a warm place. I needed a bit of help to get it all moved in. I wanted Harry and Ron to help too, but being new Aurors doesn't leave them with much time.

So that leaves Hannah's friends Justin and Ernie.. The three of us wizards can handle it. And I made sure I have plenty of beer on hand for afterwards. I got them all owled. They should be here soon.

A Date with my Wife

2007-11-02T14:06:56Z

My Love,

I hope you have a wonderful day. I want to talk to you. We've both been so busy and when we are home all we want to do is . . . well, act like newlyweds. Not that that's a bad thing, but we haven't been talking much. Some things came up while I was talking to my step-mother the other day, and I realized we have much still to talk about. I’ve had both Charlie and Justin remind me this week that you and I need to talk. Maybe if we met for lunch or something, we could just talk—you know, avoiding PDA? Owl me. I will gladly move my appointments to another day if you want to owl in sick.

Hannah

I read the note from Hannah I found on my pillow, and my heart sinks, just a bit. She's right. I can't remember the last time we really talked. Not that I mind the sex, of course, but... well...I miss talking to her. I wonder what Charlie and Justin have been talking to her about.

I rummage on the night table for a quill and reply under Hannah's note:

Hannah,

You're right, as always. How does half-twelve at O'Flanagan's Pub sound? I'll meet you there, unless you'd rather I stop by the office and pick you up instead. I’ll take the rest of the day off.

I love you.

Neville

I send the note with Trevor. Minutes later, Trevor returns with a note from Hannah. I smile when I read it.

I’ll be there. I love you. Hannah

I am early to O’Flanagan’s Pub. I take a booth near the corner and watch the door for Hannah. When the beautiful witch who is my wife comes through the door, I stand, showing her where I am. She smiles and comes towards me hurriedly. “Hello, Mrs. Longbottom.”

An awkward look passes over her features for a moment, but then she grins again and is in my arms. “No PDA, right?” I remind her.

“Right,” she says softly. I take her hand and lead her to the booth.

“I just ordered the specials, if that’s okay with you. You can have something else if you don’t want the fish and chips.”

“As long as there’s malt vinegar, it sounds great.”

“So do you have the rest of the day off?” I ask. “I took it all off.”

“I moved my appointments. I’m yours for the rest of the day.”

Mine. I grin. “Good. I thought maybe we could go for a long walk along the Thames after lunch.” The server arrives with our baskets. “Thank you,” I tell him.

We spend the next several minutes eating our lunch and enjoying a little mild chit chat. I can’t help noticing how beautiful my wife is, or how she becomes more animated as she talks about her work—without disclosing any telling details of course. I can see she loves it. I watch the joy in her face as she responds to my latest work in the greenhouses and how my research for my book is coming along.

After we finish lunch, I turn to Hannah. “Let’s go for that walk.”

“Are we Apparating there? It’s several kilometers from here to the Thames.”

“We can Apparate from behind the pub. I know the coordinants if you don’t mind me guiding it.”

“I never mind as long as I’m with you. I don’t know how we can share a bed and be lonesome for each other, but that’s how I’ve felt lately.”

I gulp. This hurts a little, but it’s also true. I’ve missed just being with my best friend too. I take her hand and guide the Apparition to the river. I put my arm around her waist and begin walking with her.

“So what is it your stepmother and Charlie Weasley and Justin have you so worried about that we need to talk about?” Actually, I’m a little hurt that Hannah turned to Charlie and Justin before she talked to me. Have we really been that busy?

“I didn’t take your name at work. I did outside of my practice, but I kept Abbott at work,” she says quickly.

Why not? Is she ashamed to be my wife? Is the Longbottom name detrimental to her law practice? I swallow slowly. “Whatever makes you happy, Hannah. But can I ask why?”

“I earned my qualifications as Hannah Abbott. And Daddy has no one but me. I became an attorney because of him. It just seemed right that the attorney part of me stay Abbott.” She puts her hand over mine. “Are you angry with me?”

I can’t argue with honouring her father. I have wanted them to be close again. “No. I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me. What did you talk to Charlie and Justin about?” Why didn’t she just come to me?

“I didn’t know there was something wrong, but they both picked up that I was . . . changing. They both said I need to talk to you. I know they’re right. I’ve needed to just tell you, but you’ve been so busy researching your book in the evenings, and I’ve been studying law texts. Then on the weekends you’ve been going over to the greenhouses on the Longbottom Estate and getting the Estate ready for us to move in. I haven’t wanted to add to your stress. And I was afraid I would make you unhappy . . .”

“Hannah, I love you. You can tell me anything. Are you unhappy? What did you and Zemelda talk about?” I give her hand a squeeze.

“Just about careers and about family and priorities. Zemelda seems to think I’m just like her.” Her voice drops quietly.

I frown at this. My Hannah is nothing like that evil cow who calls herself her stepmother. “You’re not like her, but what did you tell her?”

“That I am waiting for about fifteen years before starting a family.” She looks at me worriedly. “Neville, we can start sooner if you want, it’s just I thought fifteen years was about right to make full partner and be senior enough to be able to hire someone to do most of my work for me. Then I could devote my time to our baby and practice law just a few hours a week.”

Fifteen? That is longer than I expected . . . but what she says about devoting her time to the baby makes sense. Hannah would never be satisfied with doing anything part way. But mother and father were both full Aurors and still had me. From what Gran told me, I wasn’t neglected. Hannah could do both if she had to.

“So this is what you spoke to Charlie and Justin about?” I am trying very hard not to show how tangled up I feel inside.

“Part of it. Basically, both of them accused me of changing, of not being myself anymore. They’re right. I am changing. I’m all caught up in the power I have to make things happen as a solicitor. I really enjoy it. But I have to stay grounded. I have to have you to keep me from being sucked up by it all. You’re my anchor, Neville.”

I’m her anchor? Doesn’t she know that she is mine? I’ve never felt more sure of myself than I have since having Hannah at my side. I don’t know that I would have ever dared write an herbology book without knowing I had Hannah. “I’m always here for you, Hannah. And I need you to be here for me. We have to communicate with each other.” I kiss her softly. “Hannah, fifteen years is a long time. It’s your body, so I can’t dictate these things, but are you sure?”

“Why? How long did you want to wait? You said you were fine with us waiting to start a family.”

“Well,” I say nervously, “I was thinking more like five years.”

Hannah stops in her tracks, “Five?” her voice comes out in a little squeak. “So soon? I’ll only be twenty-four.” She sighs. “I suppose we could compromise. How about ten?” She smiles and takes my hand.

Ah, there’s my attorney. “Deal. Ten it is. To be renegotiated if you want to move the date up.”

I take Hannah in my arms and kiss her again. “Hannah, we can’t let things come between us again. We have to talk to each other. No matter how busy we are. Promise?”

She nods solemnly, “Promise.”

“When are we having your father and Smith over for dinner? Do you want to do it in our flat, or wait until we are in the Longbottom Estate in a week?” I am not looking forward to this, but it’s important that my wife and my father-in-law stay close. She needs him. She still has a parent left.

“Longbottom Estate. Then we can explain to them that we waited until we moved in to have them for dinner and that’s why we didn’t invite them sooner.”

“But that isn’t why . . .” I stop and grin. She really is getting to be a bit sneaky with all this attorney work taking up much of her life. Sneaky . . . “Most of your clients are former Slytherins, aren’t they?”

“Except for a few like the Trio, or the inventor from Ravenclaw, or the ones who went to another academy. But those ones would have likely been Slytherin given the chance.” She grins. “Why?”

“I don’t know if the clients you’re associating with are to blame, or if it is just a side-effect of the profession, but you’re learning to be sneaky.”

She pouts apologetically. “Do you mind?”

I wrap my arm around her. “No, not if you don’t get sneaky with me.”

“So when do we start moving into the Estate? Are the wards still sound?”

“They are still sound. Gran knew what she was doing. I’ll add you to the wards. We can move in next weekend. Then we can plan our dinner party.”

“Oh, Luna and Colin want to come over for dinner too. And I should probably have the Puff girls over. And you’ll want to have Ron and Hermione over . . .” I can see all the dinner parties going through her head.

“Slow down. We aren’t in there yet. But of course we’ll have our friends over. We don’t need to rush. I’m planning on us living there for a lifetime—even if we do occasionally spend summers abroad, or have to move temporarily to where our jobs take us. We should still be living there for more than a hundred years.”

I think of us raising our children there together, me working with them in the gardens, Hannah reading them stories . . . Then my daydreams are interrupted by Hannah, “Summers abroad?” she asks.

“Well, if I need to go and research somewhere, study plants . . .” Oh Merlin, I never asked her. I just assumed . . . “Hannah, you would come with me, wouldn’t you?”

“If I wasn’t in the middle of a big case, yes. Just warn me when you plan on us traveling, and I’ll make sure I have no commitments for that time.”

I grin at her. I love that she is my wife—MY wife. From the way she looks at me, maybe I’m not so bad for her either. I happen to glance at her clothes—three piece suit, high heeled pointy shoes, conservative but expensive. She didn’t used to dress that way. “New clothes?” I ask.

“I have to look the part. And I’m paid well enough to afford it. Do you like them?” she asks.

Paid well enough . . . we have been eating better lately. I hadn’t even thought that she was using her own galleons. “You look nice—really. Just very professional.” Hardly goes with the dragon dung under my nails. “I think I still like the trainers and jeans and jumper best though.” Or that tiny silk nightgown . . . or after I pull the silk nightgown off . . . “How about we go home, and I can watch you get into something more comfortable?”

She wraps her arms around me. “I like that idea, as long as I get to watch you too.” With that, we Apparate back to the flat and act like newlyweds are supposed to act.

Arrangements

2007-09-07T01:44:59Z

While Hannah's been off taking her tests or revising this week, I've been preparing for our wedding. I'm not sure if she remembers, but she promised that we'd be married as soon as she finished. Well, she finished today, and I'm sure she did brilliantly. That means we can be married…and the sooner the better, I think.

The first thing I did this week was go to my vault. I don't go there very often -- don't need to, really. And it's not like I'm rich or anything. But there are a few things in there that have special meaning or are valuable. One of those things is a ring set. A bridal set. It belonged to Mum's gran, and it's been sitting in the vault as long as I remember. Aunt Enid showed it to me when I was about eight, and I'd almost forgotten about it, until I went looking for an engagement ring for Hannah and had to go to Gringotts to exchange some Galleons for Muggle currency. On a whim, I decided to go into the vault, and I found the old jewellery box in the corner. As soon as I opened it, I knew I'd found the perfect ring.

After pocketing the ring, I went out into Muggle London to buy a suit. Merlin, I was hopeless at first, but I lucked upon an extremely helpful saleswitch…erm…clerk, who was able to steer me to something tasteful -- a simple black suit, white shirt, and red tie. I almost didn't recognize myself; I'm just so used to jeans and T-shirts or my robes. But I think I look pretty good in the suit, if I say so myself.

Then I went and learned what we needed to do to procure a license -- a Muggle license. Hannah doesn't want her step-mother to know about the wedding until after it happens, and I can't say I blame her. She needs to come with me to fill out a bit of paperwork, but other than that, it's all taken care of.

And I went to Godric's Hollow to talk to the minister there. I know Ginny isn't going to be able to travel far since their baby's due any day now (Merlin…Harry's going to be a father!), but it's really important to me that they're there. Those two and Ron and Hermione were my closest friends at Hogwarts, and we went through a lot together.

Finally, I went back to Longbottom Manor. I've been beefing up the wards after Malfoy invaded our flat, but I've also been working on the wedding flowers.

I think everything's ready. Now she just needs to pass those tests!

Nightmares

2007-08-20T04:19:53Z

I'm walking out into the back garden, my mind on the projects I need to work on: the new varieties of House Plants, pollinating the dancing daffodils, writing the next chapter in my book… I turn and look over my shoulder to see Hannah, her hair plaited, sitting at a table by the house, quill moving over parchment, books surrounding her. I wave and she smiles and waves back before returning to her work.

I turn back to the greenhouse, stopping along the way to prune a few dead blooms from the flutterby bush--

And there is a scream from the house, a horrible, awful, terror filled-scream, a scream filled with anguish. I pull my wand and run back to the house. Spells are flying, red, green, purple, orange…the scream comes again, and I know it's Hannah, and she's writhing on the ground and I see the blonde of Malfoy's hair and hear the sick cackle of Bellatrix Lestrange. A sickly green light flashes and I see it as it barrels its way towards Hannah; there's no way she can escape, no matter what I do--

I bolt upright in bed, panting and out of breath as if I've just run the entire way from the greenhouse to the Manor. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I blindly grope until I feel Hannah in the bed beside me, warm and breathing. She rolls to her side when I touch her, snuggling back into the blanket and sighing,

My heart is still racing and I try to calm myself, try to go back to sleep. The dream is still too vivid in my mind, no matter what I do. Closing my eyes only makes the images more real. I check the clock beside the bed and groan: half-two. I still have hours until it's time to get up.

My breathing eventually slows, but I'm still feeling unsettled, uncomfortable. Unsafe. After tossing and turning for what seems like hours, I give up and get out of bed, heading to the kitchen, where I brew a cup of tea.

I thought I was done with the nightmares. There was a time, when the war was at its height and I didn't know whether my friends -- or I -- would survive from day to day, that I didn't go a night without one. They lasted for months after the war, becoming rarer when I was away from England, stopping almost completely once Hannah moved in.

But they've never been this bad. I still can't get the picture of the green light of the Avada Kadavra flying towards Hannah or Bellatrix's obscene laughter out of my mind. I don't know if I've ever been so terrified in my life.

The kettle whistles and I jump, startled. Damn nerves. I lean against the counter and drink my tea, letting the warmth soothe me. When I'm done, I put the cup in the sink and go to the front door of the flat, casting protection charms, adding hexes directed at unwanted visitors. I block the floo, charming the fireplace, then do the windows and the back door. We've already done this, Hannah and I, but it can't hurt to reinforce them.

When I'm done, I sit on the couch and stare at the fire, my wand at the ready, until, exhausted, I fall asleep

Dancing the Night Away

2007-08-19T03:58:29Z

The bridal couple dances and the members of the wedding party dance. I look at Hannah. "Would you feel like dancing with me? Even though I'm likely to step on your toes?"

She smiles. "I don't believe you'd step on my toes, but I'd want to dance with you even if you did."

"Don't say I didn't warn you," I laugh, then pull her onto the dance floor. I hold her close and she puts her head on my shoulder as she dances with me.

"This could be us soon," I say, swaying to the music. It's easier than I remember, this dancing stuff. Of course, I'm several years older, not nearly as clumsy as I was in fourth year. And while I consider Ginny Weasley one of my best friends, dancing with Hannah just works better than dancing with Ginny ever did. We just...fit.

She smiles. "I can't wait."

I tighten my grip on her. "Me neither," I murmur into her hair. "I know it's not that far off, but it seems like it's taking forever."

She looks over at Ron and Hermoine, a small smile still on her face. "They look happy, don't they?"

Nodding, I say, "Yeah, they do. I'm glad, too. They deserve it. Took them long enough, though."

She puts her head on my shoulder and I hold her tightly, moving her in a slow turn. She glances again an Ron and Hermione, her eyes suddenly filling with concern. "Neville . . . we don't need to hurry, though. I mean, I want to marry you, soon, but we don't need to rush the rest. We have time."

"I know we do," I tell her. "And I can wait as long as we need."

"Thank you," she whispers. "I'm glad you understand about waiting awhile to become parents." She rests her head on my shoulder as I turn her in the dance.

I stumble and step on her toes. "Sorry," I say when she winces. "Did you say, 'parents'?" Then I step on her toes again and she winces again. "Oh, Merlin, Hannah, I'm sorry. I'd been doing so well, too. Are your feet okay?"

She starts chuckling silently, trying to keep from showing she's laughing. "Neville, I'm fine. And yes, I said that. I mean, it's pretty obvious Harry's about to become a father and with Ron being a Weasley, I'm certain he won't be far behind. I'm in no hurry, myself. I'd like to wait about ten years."

"Oh," I say, a bit relieved. "I thought you wanted to wait to get married. I hadn't even thought about children yet, other than the fact that I know I want to have some, sometime in the future. I'd like to get established, maybe open my own nursery before we have any children. I mean," I add, "I won't be upset if we get a surprise and it happens earlier, but it would be better if we're in a better financial situation, yeah?"

"No, Neville. I want to marry you. Soon. I just want to wait until we are both established in our careers before we have children. So we are in agreement." She kisses me softly while we dance, and I hear someone wolf whistle. Hannah turns pink and steps back from me.

"Oh, look at that, Fred," I hear George say behind me, "Our ickle Neville's all grown up, snogging a girl in public." I hear him sniff and turn in time to see him wipe a 'tear' from his eye. "I'm so proud."

Laughing, I make an obscene gesture, causing him to look at me in shock. "Sod off, George, you're just jealous because I've brought the most beautiful woman here" Then I pull Hannah back into my arms and kiss her again before leading her off the dance floor and over to our table.

"Sorry about that," I tell her. She's flushed bright red, but is smiling at me. "I learned early on not to give the twins any ground. But I did tell the truth -- I definitely brought the most beautiful woman here." I lean forward to whisper in her ear, "I'm ready to go home whenever you are," and waggle my eyebrows at her. She looks shocked and I laugh again. I can't help it; I'm happy. I'm here with my fiancé and some of my best friends watching two people I really care about finally get married. It can't get much better than this.

A Birthday morning to remember

2007-07-30T13:26:50Z

"Hannah?" I say, trailing my hand up her naked back. I love the way her skin feels. I love the way she looks when she's like this, after we've made love, with her hair tousled, lips full, cheeks rosy. Her head is nestled on my chest; she fits perfectly.

"Mmmm?" she says drowsily, snuggling closer.

I tighten my arms around her and try again. "Hannah, I've something I need to tell you," I say, and something in my voice must tell her that I'm serious.

"What is it, Neville?" she asks, lifting her head up so she can look me in the eye.

Damn. Now I have to tell her. I've been intending to say something ever since I sent that letter to her father, but never could figure out how to bring it up. Oh, well. Nothing for it, now, I think, so I just blurt it all out in one breath. "Isentanowltoyourfatherandtoldhimhowupsetyouwereaboutthewayhewastreatingyou."

"Pardon me? You wrote to Daddy? Is that what you said?" She looks at me sleepily. "Why did you write to Daddy?"

"I just saw how upset all of this has made you, and I wanted to help, so I wrote a letter and sent it to him. I...erm...I was a little forceful," I say sheepishly.

Dragon Dung and Flowering Plants

2007-07-07T23:28:01Z

"Done," I say, leaning the shovel against the greenhouse wall and stranding to stretch my back. Finally. Three and a half metric tonnes of dragon dung is a lot of shite to shovel. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Even with magic and four helpers, it's backbreaking work, but we managed to move the dung from Charlie's reserve -- former reserve, I mean -- and split it between the nursery and the greenhouse at the Manor. I use my forearm to wipe the sweat off my brow, and wrinkle my nose at the smell, both from the dung and from me. Definitely have to shower before I get near Hannah, I think, but I've got a little more work to do before that can happen.

I need to transfer some plants from the Manor greenhouse to the nursery, and vice versa. I've got vaults at both places that contain seed stocks and cuttings that have been put in stasis, just in case something happens. It's not so important for the common plants. You can pick new ones up just about anywhere. But the rare ones... the new ones like my House Plants and their derivatives... I'm the only one who has those, at least until I decide to put them on sale. Euan thinks they're ready and he's agreed to let me sell them from the nursery--and keep almost all of the profit earned from their sale. He really is a good boss. Maybe in the next week or so...I need to remember to write up a warning about putting the Lions near the Snakes before I sell any, I remind myself.

I have plans for a few of the plants first, though. I want to send a couple of the Lions to Ron and Hermione and the Potters (Merlin, that sounds strange, to talk about Harry and Ginny like that), and I've reserved a couple of Badgers for Susan and Megan, just to thank them for being such good friends to Hannah. She's needed them lately. I grimace at the thought of her stepmother, and shake my head. I still don't know what to do about that situation. I probably need to tell Hannah that I sent her father a letter; I've been putting it off because I'm not sure how she'll react at my interference.

I've also kept back three other plants, for a surprise for Hannah. I've been hiding them from her, waiting until they were ready...and until I was. There's one other thing I need to get before I surprise her, though, something round and shiny that belongs on the third finger of her left hand.

I don't know when I decided that I wanted to marry her, or what gave me the push to actually ask her, but all of a sudden, I got it in my head that it was what I was going to do, and the idea hasn't left me since. I've caught myself paying attention to jewellery shop windows as I walk by them or looking at the rings on women's fingers as I help them at the nursery, and then wondering what the rings would look like if they were on Hannah's finger instead. I'm going to have to do some serious looking, very soon.

I only hope she won't refuse.

Taking care of business

2007-06-29T18:27:40Z

I'm sitting in my office at the Manor, trying to work on one of the projects Mr McGregor--Euan (and isn't that an odd thought, to call my boss by his first name)-- has given me. He really liked my House Plants, and he wants me to see what other similar kinds of plants I can develop. I'm relatively close with some of the lupines (they have small wolves heads, obviously), and I'm trying to tame the SnapDragons. They're a bit tempermental.

I say I'm trying to work on the projects because my mind keeps drifting back to the conversation with Hannah earlier this week. I know she was dealing with...female things...but there's something else. Oh, I know what it is. I know I seem clueless, but I'm not that clueless. The thing is, she's really upset about her father and that Smith woman. Not that I blame her; I would be too.

Okay, that's it. I shove the parchment with my notes on it away and go to make some tea, hoping that the distraction will get me back on task. It doesn't help, though, and after another ten minutes or so, I give up and focus on Hannah and her problem.

I just wish I knew what I could do to help.

Standing, I go over to the window and look out at the garden, the flowers a riot of colour, but I'm not really seeing them. Instead, I'm seeing Hannah and how upset she was. And then it comes to me. I'm not sure it will help, but...it might work.

I stride back into the office and sit at my desk, pulling a blank piece of parchment and a quill over. Dipping the quill into some ink, I start putting my thoughts down on parchment.

Dear Mr Abbott,

So far, so good...

~~I'm writing regarding your recent treatment of your daughter~~

~~It's probably none of my business, but~~

~~I really don't know what to say, but~~

I'm pants at this kind of thing. Finally, I come up with an idea and quickly write it down, signing my name at the bottom. Calling Trevor over to me, I tie the letter to his leg and tell him where he needs to go, then watch him fly out the window.

I hope I did the right thing.

Dear Mr Abbott,

I'm not sure if you remember me, but I came to your house earlier this year and had dinner with you and your daughter. Since then, Hannah and I have started going out and have become very close. Actually, the truth of the matter is that I love Hannah, very much. She is a beautiful, generous, giving witch, and I count myself lucky beyond measure that she's chosen me.

I'm sure by now you're wondering why you're getting a letter from your daughter's boyfriend. I need to be up front with you and tell you that Hannah has no idea that I'm doing this; she'd be mortified if she did. But I can't stand by and watch her be hurt like this without at least trying to help.

Mr Abbott, Hannah misses you, a great deal. She's hurt and angry and confused and she doesn't understand why her father isn't speaking to her anymore. I'll be honest with you. I've envied her, that she still has you. I don't know how much Hannah has told you about my own parents, but you both are very lucky that you still have each other. She was very hurt over her birthday, and each day that passes without any acknowledgment from you hurts her even more.

Sir, your daughter is strong, and I know that she could make it through, even if you never speak to her again. And she'll always have me to lean on. But it could be so much easier for her if you would let her back into your heart again. She's your daughter. Surely that must mean something to you.

I'm sure you think that I'm some upstart who has completely overstepped my bounds, and you're probably right. I apologise if I seem rude, but Hannah is the most important person in the world to me, and all I want is to see her happy. If it takes me being rude to her father to help him see sense, well, that's a risk I'm willing to take.

Sincerely,
Neville Longbottom

The Ties That Bind

2007-06-13T02:40:44Z

This is ridiculous. Have you noticed I say that a lot? I do, but it's only because it's true. I'm being stupid, again. I only hope Hannah hasn't noticed that I'm acting strange. Maybe I've been able to hide it...

It's just that there are some things...some important things...that we need to do. And I've been putting it all off, in the hopes that things will get easier.

And they haven't.

So I'm taking Hannah to meet my parents.

Today.

Does she know what I've got planned? No, of course she doesn't. I haven't said anything to her about it. I just...I never know how to bring it up, you know? "Hi, Hannah. Want to come with me and meet my mum and dad? They're on the permanent spell damage ward at St Mungo's, but they're fine..." I don't think so.

But ever since my last visit...and my "talk" with Gran, it's been weighing on my mind. So I'm just going to grab her hand and drag her with me to St Mungo's...

I find Hannah curled up on the sofa in the living room, reading. What she's reading, I'm not sure. It could be a law tome or some paper on the latest court decision or one of those romance novels she thinks she's managed to hide from me. It doesn't matter, really, what she's reading, just that she is, and she's doing it here. I like that she's made herself at home in my home. I like it a lot.

And to be honest, that's what's really convinced me that I need to take her with me to see Mum and Dad. As I stand in the doorway watching her, there's this feeling of...contentment. She makes me feel like everything's going to be all right.

"Hey," I say, stepping through the door and over to the sofa. She looks up from her book, marking her place with her finger, and smiles at me.

"Neville! You're home! I didn't hear you come in."

I lean down to kiss her. "I didn't want to disturb you," I say. "You looked so engrossed in the book."

She sits up and smiles at me, budging over to make room. "Why don't you join me?" she asks, patting the cushion beside her invitingly.

"Actually... I was wondering... Do you trust me?"

Okay, that wasn't what I'd planned on saying. But she answers anyway, and the "yes" is so emphatic that it makes me shiver.

"Will you come with me?"

Honestly, this is not what I'd planned. I was going to be calm and logical and ask her to come with me to St Mungo's and everything would be great.

"I--" She looks confused. "Of course, I'll come with you, Neville. But where are we going?"

"I'm going to go visit my parents at St Mungo's, and I want you to come. I need you to come," I say. "Please?"

Visits

2007-04-14T21:43:00Z

It's Saturday, which is my normal day to visit my parents. I still haven't taken Hannah to meet them yet. Not sure why that is, actually. It's not that I'm ashamed of them, no matter what my gran said back in fifth year. It's just...awkward.

When I met Hannah's father, we had dinner and a nice conversation. We can't do that with my parents. Most of the time, they have no idea who I am, although I do see fleeting glimpses of recognition occasionally. But if they don't recognise me...their own son...they certainly won't Hannah, either.

Damn Bellatrix Lestrange anyway. I'm not a bitter person. Not usually. And I don't hate easily. I don't even hate Malfoy, git that he is. But Bellatrix Lestrange... her I hate. She took any chance that I might have had for a normal childhood in a home with loving parents and turned it to ash with a flick of her wand. I like to think I rose above it, that I conquered and recovered and went on living...and most of the time, I think that's the case. But there are times I'm not so sure. When she cursed my parents, she cursed me, too; when she tortured them, she tortured me as well. Maybe not directly, but...

You know why I was jealous of Malfoy? I know Hannah loves me. It's so very obvious when I look in her eyes. I was jealous because I'm not sure what she sees in me, because sometimes I can't see anything in myself. It doesn't help that that git was such a bastard to me while we were in school. And it doesn't help that I was brought up by a woman, who, although she loved me, spent a great deal of her time comparing me to my father and then telling me I didn't measure up. And that is Bellatrix Lestrange's fault.

Damn. I hate it when I get maudlin like this. It's really not in my personality to be like that. But after the fight I had with Hannah -- fantastic make-up sex notwithstanding -- it's been on my mind a lot.

Mentally, I shake myself. It doesn't do any good to dwell on the past, especially when I have such a bright future ahead of me with Hannah. At least I think I do. I hope I do.

Thinking of her makes me warm inside (yes, yes, I know it's mushy), and it's with that feeling that I make my way to my parents' room. I look with pride as I walk along the corridors of the hospital -- the plants I've added seem to be making a difference. Every reception desk I pass has a pot of ivy, and there are potted flowers and greenery in all of the waiting rooms. I peek into the children's ward on the way and smile at what I see...the Bluebells are singing in four-part harmony to a small girl who is talking earnestly to them.

Finally, I make it to my parents' room, and step inside, nodding genially at the medi-witch taking care of my parents' ward-mates. She's a nice lady with a ready smile and kind voice, and I'm grateful for the care she gives my parents.

"Hi, Mum; hi, Dad," I tell my parents when I reach their beds. They've been in this corner of the ward as long as I can remember. I straighten the photographs on the bedside table that's between their beds and remove the dying cut flowers from the vase located there, then add some new ones. They're cheery--bright yellow, red, and white Gerbera daisies--and they brighten the area considerably. They don't allow magical plants in this ward...something about someone being strangled by a Devil's Snare a few years ago.

We sit and I chat for a while, about everything and nothing. I've told them about Hannah, of course...and didn't get a reaction, not that I really expected one. Maybe... Maybe I need to bring Hannah up here, introduce her to them. She'd understand, I know she would. And maybe Mum and Dad would understand what I mean when I talk about her.

Soon, I tell myself. Maybe next week...

I kiss them good-bye, pocketing the Droobles Wrapper Mum slips me, and wave at the medi-witch again, telling her I'd see her next week.

My usual routine after visiting my parents is to go home, but I decide to vary it today and go out to Longbottom Manor. I go there several times a week, of course, to check on the plants in the greenhouse there, but I haven't really been in the main house since Gran's funeral. Our old house-elf, Corky, has been helping with the plants and keeping the house in shape, so everything looks great, if not lived-in. I offered to have her come live in the flat with me, but she said she'd rather stay at the Manor. I understand that, I suppose. It's the only house she's ever known.

I check on the plants first, watering and fertilising the ones that need it, pruning a few others. There are some things I'd like to do here in the greenhouse, but they're things that I really need to be here -- at the manor-- to do, which is why I haven't started any of those projects yet. Staring out over the potting bench, I can see the house, and my heart clenches.

I have such conflicting feelings about my gran. I loved her, and I know she loved me. I know she did the best she could with me, given the circumstances. But sometimes her "best" wasn't what I needed. And then I feel guilty for thinking that -- for betraying her memory like that. She led a tough life, my gran, essentially losing her son and then being forced to raise me.

Grabbing a small bundle of flowers, I square my shoulders and leave the greenhouse, heading for the small hill on the edge of the property -- the family cemetery My granddad is buried there, and lots of grand-aunts and such...and Gran. I lay the flowers at the base of her tombstone and settle on the ground beside the grave.

"Hi, Gran," I tell her. "I'm sorry I haven't been to see you earlier. I just... I couldn't. There was school, and the War... and then, well...

"I was afraid." I shrug my shoulders. "I wanted so much to make you proud of me, and I'm afraid that I haven't lived up to your expectations. I'm not Dad, Gran. I know you know that, but I want you to know that it's not necessarily a bad thing that I'm not him. It's not a bad thing that I'm not training to be an Auror, even though I could if I wanted to. My marks were good enough that I could've got into the training program.

"But Gran, that's not me. That's not what I'm meant to do. I'm a plant person, and I'm good at that. I'm excellent at that. And I've found something worthwhile to do with my skills, even if it's not what you expected or wanted for me." I shift in my seat.

"And, Gran, I know I never really told you this before, but I wanted to thank you. Thank you for taking me in and taking care of me, for making sure I knew my parents, even if they don't know me. Thank you for showing me family pride. And thank you for loving me, because I know you did. I hope you knew I loved you, too."

I rise to my feet, feeling lighter than I have in a long time. I should've done this a long time ago. I turn and look back over the grounds, past the garden (which needs some work ) and past the greenhouse, until my gaze rests on the house where I grew up.

Maybe it's time for me to come home.

No more excuses

2007-04-08T02:39:43Z

I think I've finally figured out all of the charms I need to add "windows" to Susan's shop, if that 's what she decides, as evidenced by the way I can currently see "outside"...from an interior broom cupboard. It looks pretty good if I do say so myself. Now I just need to let her know, and let her see the plants I'm suggesting and let her decide.

Since Draco's trial on Monday, I've basically just immersed myself in my work. I've been spending more time at the greenhouse at the Manor or studying the charms I needed. Now that excuse is gone, though.

And it has been an excuse. I've been basically avoiding Hannah since seeing her there...especially since he hugged her. It hasn't been intent ional, exactly, but if I slow down enough, I have to admit that it's exactly what I've been doing. I don't think I'm acting distant around her, but then again, I haven't really been around her as much.

It's not that I'm angry or upset, not really. I'm just...uncomfortable. I know she was just doing her job, and logically, I understand that she couldn't tell me what she was doing, but damn it, it would've been nice to know that I was going to see her there--working for Malfoy, who is definitely not on my list of favorite people--beforehand. So we've seen each other, but we haven't really talked yet.

I need to do something about that. I can tell she's worried. But I don't know how to bring it up to her without sounding like I'm accusing her of doing something wrong...because she didn't do anything wrong. Malfoy, though... I can't believe he had the nerve to hug her like that in front of everyone. And she didn't push him away.

But she loves you, I tell myself.

Ugh. I just need to get over it.

Deciding I need a cup of tea to help me relax, I go to the kitchen and set the water boiling, getting everything ready. Hannah's at work, so I don't need to worry about her for the time being. Idly, I flip through the stack of the Prophet sitting on the countertop. I haven't had the time nor the inclination to go through it earlier. It's basically got the same old stories, with recycled names and places, although the mention of things going missing is interesting. I should check into the security at the McGregors. There are some rare plants there that would be very valuable to certain people.

I'm almost ready to set the tea to steep when it catches my eye--a story that mentions by name someone I know. Percy Weasley. Not that I knew him well, of course. He was just Ron's older brother, a prefect...Head Boy. Liked to follow the rules. I remember that he followed Fudge and that toad, Umbridge, around in our 5th year. Honestly, I never really liked him all that much.

But he is Ron and Ginny's brother, and I do like them. I can't imagine what they're going through, knowing that one of their brothers has gone missing. I tap my fingers on the table for a minute or so, thinking, before I pull some parchment and a quill over so I can send them a note and let them know I'm thinking of them. It's not much, but hopefully they'll appreciate the effort.

Finishing the notes, I sign my name with a flourish and attach the, to Trevor's leg. "There's one for Ron Weasley and one for his sister, Ginny Potter," I tell him, rubbing him gently between his eyes. "You don't need to wait for a response."

I watch him fly off and return to my tea. Hearing about Percy has really put my petty little problem with Hannah in perspective. No more avoidance for me. I'm going to meet the problem head on.

An evening at home

2007-03-16T04:46:43Z

I don't know what I expected when Hannah asked to stay the night, but I don't think it was this. She's stayed every night since then, and other than a few awkward moments, things have been bloody fantastic. That first morning was a bit embarrassing for me, I'll admit. (I've never woken with a woman in my bed before, and my body reacted instinctively, if you catch my drift -- I am a bloke, after all.) But after I got over my embarrassment, we fell into a comfortable existence together.

Together. I like that word.

So now, after dinner, we've set ourselves up at the table. She's got her legal briefs (I guess that's what they are, anyway--there's lots of terms I don't really understand on the pages) and I've got my Herbology books, and we're working together. Reminds me a bit of the time we spent in the library at Hogwarts, actually, except that now I don't have to keep the fact that I keep staring at her with a goofy grin a secret. Well, that and the fact that we can stop and snog if we want. (And let me tell you, I definitely want.)

I sort through the stack of papers, trying to find the price of an ivy I want for the spell damage ward when I come upon a note I wrote myself buried amongst the parchment: Owl Susan.

I blink and try to remember what it was about, and then it hits me. She wants some plants for her studio, and I was supposed to owl her about a meeting time.

"Bugger," I mutter. "I forgot."

Hannah looks up from her parchment, eyes questioning.

"I was supposed to owl Susan and set up an appointment to tour her studio," I explain. "She wants to add some plants and I forgot. My reminder note was buried in all this mess." I wave my hand at the stacks of parchment, journals, and books. I never was very organized, and my memory... Well, let's just say that there's a reason my gran sent me a Remembrall my first year. I have to get more organised.

"Just apologise in the note, Neville. She's very understanding."

"I know she is, but I wanted to make a good impression."

Hannah laughs at me. "It's Susan, Neville. She knew you when you were an ickle firstie, and you had your chance to make a good impression a long time ago. Just write the note. Everything will be fine."

Grabbing some parchment, I scribble out the note, apologising to Susan for the delay. I hope she's not too put out with me. I tie the letter to Trevor's leg, telling him where to go, before leaning over and kissing Hannah softly. "Thanks, love," I tell her, turning back to my books.

Things That Go Bump in the Night

2007-03-14T04:35:57Z

It was a good day, I think to myself. I finally managed to work an entire day without feeling weak and overtired (truly an amazing feat after Ron's party on the first). And, of course, I got to spend time with Hannah.

After she leaves for home for the evening (even though I want more than anything for her to stay), I head for the shower. It's relaxing for me, and the pounding water helps me focus. I stand under the water and think about the evening...about Hannah.

You'd think by now that I would know everything there is to know about her, but that's not the case. I'm finding her more and more amazing every time I see her.

And her kisses. Merlin. That woman can kiss me senseless in approximately two seconds flat.

But I have to admit that there's something about her lately, some tension that wasn't there before. Her job is being ridiculously stressful, and I know she's worried about her dad. Honestly, I'd be worried too, if everything she's been telling me about his new girlfriend is true.

The water's started to grow cold by the time I finish with my shower; since I've forgotten to charm the tap again. It's probably a good thing, actually-- considering where my mind has been when it comes to Hannah. I step out of the shower and pull on a pair of flannel trousers, knotting the belt loosely about my waist. After towelling my hair as dry as possible, I leave the bath and head for the lounge, grabbing a t-shirt on the way. The plan is to get a bit more done on my project. And I need to send Susan an owl to schedule an appointment and I need to do a bit more research.

I start a pot of water for tea and head over to the coffee table, where I've got my books spread out, the t-shirt still clenched in my hand. I'm trying to find plants which are known to have calming effects to put in Susan's studio and in St Mungos', among other things, and I'd had a revelation whilst in the shower. I stand over the table, reading my copy of Fantastic Plants: Their Origins and Uses and have just started to pull the t-shirt over my head when I hear the crack of Apparition.

Panic!

2007-02-15T04:49:40Z

You'd think I'd know better.

I mean, really. What bloke in his right mind saves his Valentine's Day shopping for Valentine's Day?

What was I thinking?

I wasn't. That's the problem. I knew it was Valentine's Day, and I knew that I needed a gift for Hannah, but I didn't even really think about a gift until this morning, when I saw the flowers in the greenhouse.

Luckily, I got off work at noon, so I could spend some time searching for the perfect gift. I wanted to get her something with daisies, because they're her favourite flower. I already had two bouquets of them ready at the flat, one for the dining table and one for the end table by the sofa.

I looked everywhere, it seems, until finally I found a small jewellers in Muggle London. I was looking for something nice, but not too nice--we weren't even officially going out, after all. Yet.

I almost bought her a locket. It wasn't quite what I was looking for, but it would've worked. But then, out of the corner of my eye, I found it. The perfect gift for Hannah.

I just hope she likes it.

Free at last

2007-02-13T05:23:19Z

I got to escape the flat today, for a few hours at least. The Healers have given me the "all-clear," as long as I don't overdo it. They've given me permission to work half-days this week, working up to full days next week. I am so glad to get out of there.

One good thing about my enforced isolation, though, is that I've made a lot of progress on the St Mungo's project. I had a brilliant idea after reading through some of those Muggle magazines Hannah brought me while I was recovering. Did you know that Muggles have assigned meanings to certain flowers and plants, but they don't have any idea that the qualities they attribute to the plants aren't just symbolic.

My idea is to match the plants I use with the needs of the wards. So if there's a ward where they need the patients to be calmer, I'd use plants that induce calm. I'd put forget-me-nots in with Lockart (the git) and my parents to help with their memory.

I need to do more research.

There's another reason I'm glad to be free of my flat. Valentine's Day is two days away, and I need a gift for Hannah. She's coming over for dinner (I'm cooking!) and then we're going to talk.

I hope it goes well.

Enough is Enough

2007-02-07T04:37:28Z

That's it. I've had enough self-pity. So I'll get a fever periodically. Big deal. It's not fatal, I haven't lost my magic, and at the most I'll probably just be miserable for a few days. There are loads of people worse off than me.

So today, I make an effort. I haven't been lately, not really. I haven't been showering or shaving as often as I need to, and my clothes, while clean, haven't been my best. But today I'm going to be ready when Hannah gets here.

She's been so good to me lately. She's gone out of her way, well beyond what anyone would expect from a...friend. Did you know she brought me a stack of Muggle gardening magazines and some seeds?

And that gets me thinking. I need to find some way to thank her for everything she's done for me.

I pull some blank parchment towards me and begin to think. I want this letter to be perfect. After several minutes, I finally come up with the best I can do and jot it down, only struggling on the signature at the bottom. I want to send her some red and yellow tulips too, but the fact of the matter is, I can't get out of the house to get them. Maybe I can give her some after I've been let off of ~~house arrest~~ bed-rest.

It's probably telling that my first inclination was to put "love" there, isn't it? Am I in love with Hannah? I don't know. But I certainly could be, and without too much effort. We need to talk, and we need to talk sooner rather than later.

Going mental

2007-02-06T06:12:13Z

Bored.

Bored, bored, bored.

I was released from St Mungo's three days ago, but sent home with strict instructions to rest for another week.

I'm not a "rester." I don't have the nervous energy of, say, Colin Creevey or the twins, but I like to be up, doing things. The prospect of being forced to "rest"--cooped up inside this flat, no less--for another week is enough to drive me mad. Besides, if I nap during the day, I'm up all night long, as evidenced by the fact that it's now after midnight and I'm still wide awake.

I've pruned and fertilised and re-potted the plants in my flat. I've talked to Trevor (he's a very intelligent owl). I've worked on the proposal for bringing plants into St Mungo's; it's ready for a presentation, if I can ever get well enough to go do it.

I've even sunk so low as to start re-reading my Potions texts during the day, just to have something to do until Hannah arrives after she gets off work.

Honestly? She's the only thing that's kept me from going completely around the twist lately.

It's not just the boredom, of course. I've been trying to decide how I'm going to deal with my diagnosis.

I'm still not completely certain what it is I have, actually. I'd just thought it was a fever...Wizarding flu or something along those lines. The Healers agreed with me, especially after I started feeling better. And then I relapsed, the fever spiking again, although not as high as it was before.

"A type of relapsing fever," the Healer said. Clever name, yeah? He further explained that it was "probably caused by a tick bite while you were in South America. There's a Muggle disease that's similar, but something about being a wizard causes it to react a little differently with us than it does with them."

Apparently, I'll "get" to have these episodes occasionally. And there will be no rhyme or reason to when they happen. It could never happen again, or it could happen next week.

Brilliant.

The only good thing is that it's not contagious, so I can't give it to ~~Hannah~~ people close to me. At least that's something.

And now...now I feel fine, but Healer's orders are keeping me at home.

Have I mentioned that I'm bored?

How in Godric's Name Did I End Up Here?

2007-01-30T04:00:34Z

There's only one place that could be this cold, this sterile, I think as I wake up. The lights are glaring, the walls are a blazing white, the sheets are scratchy, and the smell... I hate the smell of this place.

But how the hell did I end up at St Mungo's?

The last thing I remember is falling asleep as Hannah's fingers combed through my hair, and now I'm here, but I've no idea how it happened.

I struggle to raise myself to a sitting position, cursing how weak I feel, before I give up and collapse back on the pillow, exhausted. Turning my head, I look around the room, hoping to see something or someone familiar, but I'm alone. There are some books on the bedside table, and a jumper thrown over the chair, but I can't see them well enough to tell who they belong to.

I'm alone, I'm thirsty and I need to use the loo, and I don't know how to get the attention of the Mediwitch.

"Hello?" I call out, my voice weak. "Is anybody there?"

There's no answer, not at first, and I debate whether to try to call again when I hear the door open and catch a glimpse of hospital-issue green robes.

"Ah, Mr Longbottom. Awake at last, I see," the Mediwitch, a pretty middle-aged woman named Christine, bustles over to me. I try to pull myself up again, and she raises the head of the bed, fluffing pillows and putting them behind me. "Better?"

"Yes, thanks." I clear my throat and she hands me a glass of water, telling me to drink slowly.

She takes my vital signs, noting them on the chart hanging from the bed, then helps me use the loo and get cleaned up a bit before settling me back in the bed, before asking me if there's anything else I need.

"No," I start to say, but then ask suddenly, "Wait! What day is it? And how did I get here? And..." I'm almost afraid to ask, but I have to know, "have I had any visitors?"

She looks at me sympathetically. "It's a bit disorientating, isn't it? It's Monday evening, and your friend Miss Abbott brought you in on Friday. She had to work today, but she promised she'd be back when she was done. She hasn't left your side, except for when she was forced to leave."

Monday? I've lost three whole days. And Hannah's been here almost the entire time. The relief that sweeps over me when I hear that is amazing.

"I'll let Healer Johanssen know you're awake, Mr Longbottom. And I'll have some food sent once you've been give permission to eat." Then she hurries out the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts again. I still don't have any idea how I got here or what's wrong with me.

I turn my head toward the door when I hear it open again, and I'm flooded with relief for a second time. It's Hannah.

She gasps when she sees me sitting, and I smile at her, trying to reassure her. She's got tears in her eyes, but her own smile is brilliant when she looks at me.

"Oh, Neville. I'm so glad to see you're awake. I was so worried." She walks over and sits in the chair beside the bed, then takes my hand in hers. "I'm sorry I wasn't here when you woke, though."

I squeeze her hand. "It's all right," I say, and I mean it. "What happened? The last thing I remember before I woke up is you coming to my flat."

She flushes a bit when I mention her visiting my flat. "Well, you promised to owl me last Sunday, remember?"

I nod. I'd planned to invite her over and cook for her this time, but I got sick and hadn't been able to write a letter, much less send one.

"Right. Well, when I didn't get a letter from you, I got a little...angry." Her flush deepens. I think she looks beautiful. "So I went to your flat to...erm...discuss things. But when I got there, I found you delirious on the sofa, running a really high fever. And then you collapsed and I couldn't get you to wake up and I was so scared. I managed to drag you into the floo with me and bring you here--I still don't know how I did it."

"Thank you," I say quietly. "Have...have they said anything about what caused it?"

She shakes her head. "They wouldn't tell me anything, other than it's not fatal."

I sigh in relief. That's good news, at least. But now I have to wait for the Healer--Johanssen, I think it was--to find out what's wrong with me.

I should be afraid; I know I should. But I'm not. Hannah's here, and for some reason, that makes me feel like I can face anything.

Why me?

2007-01-25T04:53:14Z

I've been back at work for a week, and I'm exhausted. I've talked with the McGregors about getting plants into St Mungo's, and they both really liked the idea, so I've been working on getting a proposal together so I can present it to the board there. Between that, and my regular work, and my work on the greenhouses at the manor, I go home completely knackered and fall into bed after eating something simple...when I manage that. Hannah would be disappointed, but I haven't tried her cookbook yet.

It's got so bad that I haven't owled her yet this week, despite my best intentions. I've just been so busy.

To top it all of, I think I'm coming down with something. I've got chills and a headache and I'm just...not feeling well at all. But I have to get the Galloping Gladiolus transplanted, and the Dancing Daffodils need fertilising, and the Pesky Petunias are almost ready for pollination.

I make my way slowly to the head house and start preparing the pots for the Gladiolus, finding myself getting weaker and colder...no, hotter...no, cold... as I work.

"Longbottom?"

It's Mr McGregor, and he looks worried. "You don't look good, son. Why don't you go home and get some rest."

"But the plants--" I say weakly.

"I'll take care of the plants. You take care of yourself. I don't want to see you in here until Monday, understand?"

"Yes, sir, but--"

"No buts. You're our best apprentice, and we need you well. Work on the proposal for St Mungo's if you feel you have to do something."

"All right. Thank you, Mr McGregor."

"And Neville, I don't think you should Apparate. Use the Floo in the office instead."

I'm too tired and feel too horrible to argue, so I trudge to the office and Floo home. I manage to kick my shoes off and grab the afghan from the back of the sofa before I collapse on its cushions and fall into a fitful sleep.

Trying to Calm My Nerves

2007-01-21T03:36:59Z

I take a bite of the chocolate that was left on my doorstep the other night and grin as I read the note that was attached.: From three badgers to a lion (but especially from the tiger badger).

I understand the "three badgers to a lion" part easily enough--Hannah spent the evening with Megan and Susan earlier this week. Of course, the Hufflepuff-coloured ribbon was a good clue, too.

But the "tiger badger" part...

No matter how I try to turn my head around that cryptic message--and I've been trying since I opened the door and found the package --I can't wrap my mind around the meaning of that phrase. I assume it means Hannah, but I just don't understand the tiger reference at all.

Oh, well. I'll just ask her on Sunday.

I'll admit that I'm a little nervous about Sunday. She's going to teach me to cook.

And her father will be there.

He seemed very nice when I met him earlier, but I was only there for a few minutes. This time... This time, he'll have me at his mercy, on his territory, for hours.

The thought's enough to make me break out in cold chills.

I keep telling myself that everything will be fine, but I'm not totally sure I've convinced myself of the fact yet.

Consequently, I've made a lot of progress on the greenhouses at the manor. It helps if I keep busy. That way my mind doesn't dwell too much on what might happen.

I force my thoughts away from Hannah's father as I fill some pots with soil, wetting it slightly before transplanting the seedlings I started on Monday. It wasn't too hard; I've found myself wondering how Harry--and Ron and Hermione, too--has been doing since they defeated Voldemort. I'd received my copy of the most recent issue of the Quibbler, the one with Harry's interview in it, and I read it with interest. Mostly, I was surprised that he'd done the interview at all. I know how much he hates the press--and rightfully so. And I think I was surprised at how mature his responses sounded. Of course, he has seen more in his short life than most of the rest of us will ever see.

I wouldn't call us the best of mates. Harry and Ron had each other--and Hermione, of course. But I'd definitely call us friends.

And, well, truth be told... I miss them. I miss having other people around. Trevor's not the best conversationalist, although he's a great listener. And Hannah...well, she's great, of course, but sometimes a bloke needs to talk to other blokes.

I really need to contact them and see how they're doing.

Reflections

2007-01-16T04:26:56Z

I've finally decided to go to the Manor and check into the state of the greenhouses there. It's something that I've been planning on doing for a long time, but today is the first time I've actually felt ready.

And it's all because of Hannah.

We had our date on Saturday, and it was wonderful, if I do say so myself. I'd been a bit worried, because what I had planned wasn't exactly every girl's dream date. Lucky for me, she's not "every girl."

I took her to the Royal Arboretum and Botanical Gardens. We strolled hand-in-hand through the greenhouses, talking about the plants we saw there. I'll admit that I got carried away a few...okay, several times, but she never looked bored or annoyed. I can't begin to say how much I appreciate her willingness to listen to me prattle on about plants. Most girls wouldn't.

Then again, she's not most girls.

I brought her back to my flat for a little bit, and she seemed impressed with the plants I have. They take up almost every nook and cranny, on shelves and bookcases and window seats, and she likened my sitting room to a greenhouse of my own. It was an exaggeration, of course, but it brought home the point of how much more I could be doing, if I had the right equipment.

And that brings us back to the greenhouses at the Manor.

I haven't been here since Gran died, not for any length of time, anyway. But this time, when I arrived, I didn't feel the crushing grief that I've experienced before. I'm still sad, and I still miss Gran, but it's not so overwhelming that I can't handle it. Maybe that's because I find myself constantly distracted by my thoughts of Hannah, or maybe it's because she's opened my eyes to the possibilities of what could be instead of the reality of what has been.

As I work, righting pots and taking inventory of what I have, I think again about our time together at the Arboretum. What amazes me more than anything is that it seems like those six months when we fell out of touch never happened.

I can't believe how lucky I am.

Old Habits and Future Plans

2007-01-14T01:29:07Z

I've been constantly smiling since my impromptu date with Hannah. I never expected our reunion to go so well. Not that I'm arguing. This is something that I'd hoped for over most of last year, and to have something actually come of those hopes... well, let's just say that I'm planning on enjoying every second.

Trevor and I have gone back to the McGregor's greenhouses. I think they've finally given up on trying to convince me that I don't need to come in to work on my days off. I can't help it; I just think better when I'm up to my elbows in dirt, surrounded by plants. What I really need to do is get the greenhouses at Gran's...my house repaired. Then I'd be able to do my thinking in my own space, on my own time.

I do have an agenda today, though, and it's something more than thinking that's brought me to the greenhouses.

I need flowers. Actually, Hannah needs flowers. I just need to get them for her. The McGregors have been generous enough to tell me that I can take whatever I need--within reason, of course--so I head to greenhouse number three...that's where the bouquet flowers are grown (as opposed to greenhouse number one, which houses the vegetables, or greenhouse number two, where the medicinal herbs are grown...and we won't talk about greenhouse number five. Right scary, that one is.)

I walk up and down the aisles between the tables and look for the perfect flower for Hannah, something not too pretentious or obviously meaningful but which still reminds me of her. I'm pinching off old blooms or trimming dying leaves as I go. It's an old habit that used to drive Gran mad, because I tend to do it wherever I am ... including that one time in Madam Marchbanks sitting room after my fifth year. Gran was mortified when she looked over and saw the pile of dead blooms and leaves in my hand, but Madam Marchbanks thanked me and hired me to come back and fix up her gardens for her over the summer.

Finally, I see the perfect thing for her, a selection of white and yellow daisies. I quickly cut enough for a bouquet and tie a red ribbon around the stems. Then I write a note on some spare parchment and attach it to the bouquet and give the whole thing to Trevor, telling him to take it to Hannah.

After he leaves, I look around the greenhouse some more. I want some more flowers, this time to take to Mum and Dad. Their room in St Mungo's is so boring...all white and institutional...and some colour will help brighten it, just a bit. This time, I know exactly what I want. When I was younger, Gran told me that forget-me-nots were Mum's favourite flower. She even used them in her wedding bouquet. I find the perfect flowers and pick them, using a white ribbon around the stems this time.

Then I Apparate to St Mungo's.

It still smells the same. I don't know why I'm surprised; the smell and appearance of this place hasn't changed in all the years I've been coming here. I give the lady at the front desk a friendly wave as I pass by and make my way to my parents' room.

"Hi, Mum. Hi, Dad," I say as I walk in. I put the flowers in the vase that I've left there expressly for this purpose and move it to my mum's bedside table. I try to bring flowers or a plant every time I come, just to add some sort of variety to their lives. I don't know how much good it makes, but it at least helps me feel like I'm doing something to help them.

I sit and we chat...or rather, I chat...for a while. I tell them about South America and the plants I saw there and about my job with the McGregors. And Hannah, of course. I ask my mum what she thinks Hannah would like and my dad how he knew he wanted to ask Mum out. I just wish they could answer back. This whole relationship thing is new to me and I want to talk about it to someone who's been in my position before, but I really don't have anyone.

Sighing, I kiss Mum on the cheek and slip the gum wrapper she gives me into my pocket before squeezing my dad on the shoulder. I give one last look around the room and note again how stark and white and boring it looks. As I walk down the corridor, I pay more attention to the walls and peek into the rooms I pass by. They're all like that; other than the portraits on the wall, there are no decorations anywhere. It's depressing.

But then I get an idea. The flowers add so much to my parents' room, and the other patients on their ward seem to appreciate them. What if I could find away to bring more plants and flowers into the hospital? I wonder. I look at my surroundings with a fresh eye. Live plants in the waiting rooms and wards, flowers on the desks or bedside tables... It wouldn't take much, but it would make a huge difference in the appearances of the place.

I'd have to talk to the McGregors...and the hospital staff...but I bet they'd let me do it if I drew up a workable plan. Thoughts spinning, I Apparate back home and pull out some parchment. I've got a lot of work to do.

Chance Encounters

2007-01-12T04:57:14Z

Looking in the mirror one last time before I leave for my appointment with Gran's...my solicitors, I give my robes one last twitch to get them to hang straight. I know I really don't need to make a good impression--I'm the one paying them after all--but looking my best when going out in public is one lesson I learned from Gran. "You never know who you might see," she'd tell me. It was just easier to let her have her way when I was younger, and now it's become a habit.

I Floo to a pub near the offices of Knightly and Poppington. I don't want to risk splinching myself (always a possibility when I'm nervous), so I've decided to walk from the pub. Just in case, you know? With my luck, I'd be the first client in the whole of Wizardkind to be fired by my solicitors instead of the other way around because I'd been too stupid to Apparate correctly.

Smoothing my hand down the front of my robes one last time, I put my hand on the doorknob and take a deep breath before turning it.

Why do I feel like something momentous and life-changing is right around the corner?

Getting Out of the Flat

2007-01-09T03:12:31Z

I wake up feeling almost human again, after sleeping for almost two days straight. Well, I did get up to use the loo and eat some more tinned soup, but that's about it. I've got to do something about the selection in my cupboard. You can only eat so much tinned soup before your taste buds start throwing a wobbly. Wistfully, I think about the meals we ate whilst we were at Hogwarts and my stomach growls.

That's it. No more soup for me. Not today, anyway.

I shower quickly and throw on some clothes, determined to get out of the house. On my way to the door, I notice the mail that had piled up...that I still haven't opened. Might as well get it over with I think, ignoring my stomach's protest.

There are some seed catalogues and January's edition of Muggle Plants in a Magical World one of the trade journals the McGregors suggested I read, a few adverts--one for Fred and George's shop, I notice with a grin--and the letter from my gran's solicitors.

I open that one and read it quickly, hoping there's nothing wrong.

Knightly and Poppington
Wizarding Solicitors
Serving the British Isles since 1627

12 December 1998

Dear Mr Longbottom,

We are writing concerning the affairs of your grandmother, Augusta Longbottom. As you know, Mrs Longbottom's will was settled not long after her death in April, and you were named her sole heir, with the exception of your parents. We are currently in possession of several parchments that must be signed in order to disburse the funds. Please contact the firm at your earliest convenience in order to set up an appointment.

On a more personal note, we would like to once again extend our condolences on your loss. Knightly and Poppington is proud to say that we've served the Longbottom family for over a hundred years, and your grandmother had become one of our favourite clients. We could always depend on her to tell us exactly what she thought, a rare commodity in this business.

Your Servant,
Tobias Poppingotn, Esq.

When Gran died, I was put in charge of the family finances--something that scares me almost more than the Death Eaters had. I don't know anything about taking care of money! But with Mum and Dad they way they are, I am the logical choice.

I pull the parchment and quill left from when I wrote my resolutions and scribble off a reply, getting ready to send it off...until I remember that I don't have an owl and therefore have no way to get it to them. Reckon I know what I'm doing today, then. Gathering my coat and gloves, I prepare to Apparate to the Leakey Cauldron when the list of resolutions I made catches my eye.

~~1. Contact Hannah.~~
1. Learn to cook.
2. Learn as much as possible from the McGregors.
3. Repair the greenhouses at the Manor.
4. Visit Mum and Dad at least once a week, more if possible.
~~5. Contact Hannah.~~
6. Buy an owl.
7. Contact Hannah and apologise for being a git.

Well, at least I can get one thing crossed off my list. And I can get a start on number four...and maybe buy a cookbook so I can start working on number one.

I Apparate over to the Leakey Cauldron and I'm immediately assailed by the scents. Food! Real, honest to Merlin food!. This is obviously going to be my first stop, and I find a table and order, savouring every bite once my meal arrives. After I finish and pay, I'm off to Diagon Alley for some shopping.

My first stop is Flourish and Blott's, where I spend entirely too much time trying to find a cookbook or two...something written in simple English that even I could understand. The fact that I'm complete rubbish at Potions gives me pause when I think about cooking something that's more complicated than opening a tin, but there has to be something for someone like me, right?

Finally, I emerge from the bookstore with three cookbooks and the newest issue of The Encyclopaedia of South American Magical Plants. I couldn't help myself. Books on plants are my weakness.

Next stop: Magical Menagerie, where I hope to find an owl. I can't begin to say how I'd love to find an owl like Harry's Hedwig, but I know it's highly unlikely. I'd never be that lucky, not in a million years. Still, hopefully I can find one almost as good.

They do have a snowy owl, like Hedwig...except not. It's the same kind of owl, but that's where the similarities end. This owl, unlike Hedwig, is mean and crotchety and bites. Hard.

There are spotted owls and horned owls and barn owls and not one of them seems to be what I'm looking for.

And then I found him. Or maybe he found me. I'm not quite sure. One minute, I was thinking about settling on a spotted owl that didn't seem to be too bad, and the next...there's a weight on my shoulder, and a beak clicking in my ear. I turn my head and the weight lifts off and flies to the perch in front of me and I find myself looking at the most handsome owl I've ever seen. He regards me closely and clicks his beak at me again.

"Hello, there," I say. "What's your name?" He hoots softly in response and clicks his beak again. "Are you looking for a home?"

And he nodded at me. I know, I know. He can't have done, right? But he did, so I ask him, "Would you like to come home with me?"

And he nods again.

Well, what else can I do but offer him my arm and take him to the counter to pay?

"Ah, I see you've found Trevor," the man at the counter says.

"What?" I say, startled. Surely he didn't just call this owl--

"Trevor. That's his name, lad. Good owl. Very loyal."

If there were any doubts before, there aren't now. I arrange for some owl treats, a cage and perch to be sent to my flat and hand over my Galleons. Then I take Trevor and my books and head home.

Finally Home

2007-01-04T05:55:12Z

Stumbling slightly, I land in my flat, the one I found as soon as I left Hogwarts--I can't bring myself to live in the manor without Gran, at least not yet. I haven't slept well the past few days--haven't had time to sleep, really--and that always makes my Apparition a bit suspect. I didn't splinch myself, thank Merlin, but it definitely wasn't my prettiest landing.

Wearily, I rub my hand over my eyes. All I want is a hot shower and my own bed with real sheets and pillows and a mattress. It all seems like such luxury now, after spending the last several weeks in the jungle. I had no idea it was going to be so much work when I agreed to go to South America for the McGregors, the owners of the Nursery where I started my apprenticeship just a few months ago. So far, they seemed to be the best kind of bosses--interested in what I'm doing, but not so interested that they hover over me--and they really want me to learn. Thus my trip to South America. They wanted me to see the native habitat of some of their more valuable specimens, so they sent me on the latest collection trip. Being the new guy, I got all the dirty work, not that I mind. I like getting my hands dirty.

But now I'm exhausted. I've been away from England for over a month. I missed Christmas and New Years, though that didn't really matter. Gran and Granddad are both dead, and Mum and Dad don't know what day of the week it is, much less whether it's a holiday. And there's no one...special...in my life at the moment.

And whose fault is that? I ask myself. I don't know why I bother, though. I know good and well whose fault it is.

Shaking my head, I toe off my shoes and head over to the table, where the post has piled up in my absence. I had things set up so only urgent letters got through to me while I was gone, since I knew I wouldn't have the resources to deal with the others. Of course, all that meant is that I got no post at all...there's nothing in my life that's very urgent anymore. Even now, there's really nothing of interest, except for something from Gran's solicitors. It's not interesting enough for me to read it right now, though. Not when there's a real shower calling my name.

After the shower, where I finally get a chance to eliminate a month's worth of grime, I pad to the kitchen, looking for something to eat. All I can find are a few tins of soup. Better than nothing, I guess. I really need to learn how to cook, if I'm going to live on my own, but that will have to be something I work on later. I glance at the stack of parchment on my table...and decide against opening anything right now. It can wait until tomorrow.

Idly, I pick up a quill and a blank piece of parchment from the counter beside the stove. I start to doodle, but then I decide, on a whim, to make out a list of New Year's Resolutions. It's not the first of January, but it's close enough. And maybe if I set myself some goals, I can make some progress towards becoming the man I want to be.

The quill makes a scritching noise as I write.

Resolutions:

1. Contact Hannah.

I blink and scratch it out. Where did that come from?

~~1. Contact Hannah.~~
1. Learn to cook.
2. Learn as much as possible from the McGregors.
3. Repair the greenhouses at the Manor.
4. Visit Mum and Dad at least once a week, more if possible. (I'm feeling guilty about not visiting while I was abroad.)
5. Contact Hannah.

I scratch it out again. Why would she want to see me? It's my fault that we hadn't spoken since we left school. All I had to do was send an owl. They're smart. Post-owls can find just about anyone. But I was afraid...afraid that her response wouldn't be what I wanted. And now months have passed and I haven't heard from her.

~~5. Contact Hannah.~~
6. Buy an owl.

I look over and notice that the soup is boiling, so I stop my resolution-writing and pour it into a bowl. Grabbing a spoon (I don't have any bread, I note with a sigh)...and my list...I take it all over to the table, sit, and re-read what I've written.

Then I sigh and pick up the quill again.

7. Contact Hannah and apologise for being a git.

That's the best I can do, I reckon. And if she doesn't want to see me...well, I can live with that. I won't like it, but I can live with it.