(no subject)
Author: lauryne78
Recipient: katzpajamas
Title: All These Broken Pieces
Pairing: Neville/Hannah
Request: “When you’ve spent so much time learning to fight battles, how do you go back to normal?”
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2,304 (I know it’s a bit long, but I cut it down several times and this was as short as I could get it and have it still make sense - I hope that’s okay!!).
Summary: Hannah and Neville are both a bit lost after the Final Battle. Trying to make it on their own isn’t working, but maybe they’ll be better together.
Author's Notes: This is a sort of vignette style that (intentionally) leaves some moments between them off the page…but tries to evoke a feeling and tone with what it does show. It’s not a style I use too often, and I worked on it on and off all summer, so I hope it worked!! The title is taken from Snow Patrol’s song The Lightning Strike - Part iii, specifically “All these broken pieces fit together to make a perfect picture of us.” I hope you like it, katzpajamas - it was a lot of fun to write!!
Late June, 1998….
Neville bolted upright, his gasping breaths echoing loudly in the stillness of his bedroom. The air was stiflingly hot, the cooling charm he’d cast earlier having worn off, yet he could feel each bead of cold sweat as it trickled down his spine. The remnants of his nightmare were fading rapidly, but a creeping sense of unease lingered. A glance at the bedside clock showed that it was far too early to get up, yet Neville knew that sleep would elude him now.
He decided to venture to the kitchen for a cup of tea, hoping it might help soothe his jangled nerves. He grabbed his wand and left the room, padding carefully down the long, dark hallways so as not to wake his Gran.
As he waited for the kettle to boil, he glanced around the kitchen. Though he’d only lit one small lamp, and the shadows were plentiful, he could mentally map the topography of the barely visible cabinets and countertops with an ease born of long familiarity.
He felt restless, and not just tonight. If he were honest with himself, he’d felt this way almost constantly for the past two months - the agitation only subsiding when he went to the school to help with repairs or when he was out in the garden with Gran.
The kettle shrieked, jerking him out of his thoughts, and he quickly pulled it off the heat, unable to shake the nagging feeling that he was as out of place in the world as a Gurdyroot stalk in a garden full of Flutterby bushes. If only he knew what to do about it.
~*~
Hannah strode briskly along Diagon Alley, one arm weighted down with a bulging sacks from the recently re-opened Magical Market, the other cradling a package from the bakery. She was hoping that by getting the pub’s morning errands done quickly, she’d be able to do one of her own before helping Tom prepare for the lunch rush. She wanted to stop at Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes and see if she could find something for her brother’s birthday.
But as she rounded a curve where the Alley slanted off towards Knockturn, she found herself stumbling instinctively to an abrupt halt. The urge to scream came on so quickly and so strongly that she had to physically fight against it, and she stood there trembling as other shoppers pushed past her.
The tableaux that had paralyzed her - three figures in dark cloaks, arguing, their backs to her - began to dissolve. As two of the figures walked away up Diagon, the last remained, poring over the selections outside of the apothecary. She took a shaky breath, realizing that, far from the Death Eaters she’d taken them for at first glance, they were simply three wizards who’d been having a heated conversation. She tried to tell herself that anyone seeing what she’d seen could have reacted as she had, but it didn’t make her feel any better.
Feeling distinctly foolish, and still a bit shaken, Hannah finally forced herself to move. She made her way towards the Weasleys’ joke shop, though at a much slower pace. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened to her, but the last incident had been a few weeks ago, and she’d thought they’d stopped.
She never knew what would bring one on, but whatever the trigger, the result was the same - blinding, crippling panic. Once, she’d had one in the middle of the Leaky, dropping a whole tray of dirty dishes at the height of the dinner hour. Tom had waved off her profuse apologies and mended the dishes with a flick of his wand, but Hannah’s mortification had remained. At least this time she hadn’t broken anything.
Arriving at the Wheezes, she shouldered open the door, hoping that the cheerful atmosphere of the shop would help her forget her troubles, at least for a little while.
~*~
Mid-July, 1998…
“Hello? Is anyone here?”
Neville had been hunched over, repairing a section of wall at the back of Greenhouse Three, when a familiar voice made him leap to his feet. He moved quickly to the front of the greenhouse, smiling when he saw Hannah standing in the doorway holding a stack of clay pots.
“Here,” he said warmly, “let me.” He gestured at the pots before gently taking them from her.
“Oh, erm…thank you. I didn’t know where Professor Sprout might want them.” She smiled at him, but Neville thought there was something strained about it. He and Hannah had spent a fair amount of time together the preceding year and he’d always liked her, but it was only standing here now that it dawned on him how very much he had missed her.
“I know where to put them,” he said, turning to deposit them on one of the newly rebuilt shelves that ran underneath the greenhouse’s large windows. When he had put them safely away, he moved to face her again, only to find her leaving. “Wait!!” he called, feeling something that he couldn’t quite identify, but knowing he didn’t want her to leave just yet. “D’you have to go?”
She stepped back inside, crossing her arms over her stomach and leaning against the wall. “I can stay for a bit,” she murmured, her face lit with a genuine smile this time. She hesitated before speaking again. “It’s good to see you, Neville.”
He felt his face warm and ducked his head, hoping she wouldn’t notice. Now that she’d stayed, he felt a bit awkward - which was just nonsense. This was Hannah. They’d patrolled together, dueled together, survived together, and he’d thought they’d gotten to know each other rather well. So why was this suddenly so hard?
Breaking the awkward silence that had fallen, he pointed back towards where he’d been working. “Erm…maybe you could help me - your charm work is better than mine.”
“What do you need?” she asked, a spark of curiosity lighting her eyes.
He walked back to the wall and crouched down. She followed and knelt next to him. “See here? I’ve got the basic reconstruction done, but I can’t get it to look like the original part of the wall.”
She frowned at the stone and mortar for a moment, her ponytail swinging forward over her shoulder as she leaned in for a closer look. The sunlight lit her hair, making it gleam, and the strange tug in Neville’s chest that he’d felt earlier intensified. She smiled suddenly, waving her wand in a delicate pattern and he smiled too when he saw the stone meld seamlessly with the original parts of the wall.
“Brilliant.”
They continued to work together for the next few hours, moving from greenhouse to greenhouse, sometimes silent, but often talking about what they’d been doing since the climactic battle. Finally, they finished and sat shoulder to shoulder, leaning against the stones they’d just repaired.
Neville thanked her for staying and watched a slow grin spread across her face, realizing that this was the most peaceful he’d been in a long, long time.
~*~
End of August, 1998…
“Hannah! You’ve got orders up!”
“Right with you, Tom!” Hannah hurried across the Leaky’s crowded dining room, dodging the gesturing arms of patrons who seemed determined to knock her for a loop.
She was exhausted - over the past few weeks, business had picked up at least five-fold, and while Hannah was glad that the Alley finally seemed to be returning to normal, she also felt completely wrung out.
Scurrying to the counter and picking up the waiting orders, she realized that the only calm moments in her life recently had been the times she’d been with Neville. After they’d spent the day together working at Hogwarts, they’d run into each other a few more times - by accident at first, but gradually their meetings had become more planned. They weren’t quite dating, but Hannah truly enjoyed being with him. When so much of her life still felt unsettled, and so many wounds still felt raw, he was the one thing she could count on. His calm, quiet presence soothed her effortlessly, and he was the only one she’d confided in about her panic attacks.
She liked to think that he felt the same way about her - he certainly seemed to enjoy her company. And he’d trusted her enough to tell her about his nightmares. Visions of the Carrows frequently tormented him, but those dreams paled in comparison to the one in which the Sorting Hat never came off of his head and he simply burned away in front of the entire school. Hannah had wept for him once she’d returned home the night he’d told her about that one.
But despite how difficult some of the things they shared were, Hannah was infinitely grateful that she was able to talk to Neville this way, and honored that he seemed to trust her in return. It gave her hope that he might fancy her at least as much as she did him.
She’d been lost in thought as she delivered her orders and picked up empties. She’d just returned to the bar when a familiar face caught her eye. It was as if she’d summoned him with her thoughts. Neville sat at the far end of the bar, hunched over a Butterbeer. He looked up, and his expression, which had been a bit pensive, melted into a grin.
“This is a nice surprise,” she said quietly as she approached him. “I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight.”
His smile slipped a bit, and he sighed.
“Neville?” she said with concern, “is everything alright?”
He looked up at her, his expression softening again. “Yeah…well, no, maybe not…I just…are you off soon? Could we talk?”
Worried by his behavior, Hannah checked the clock quickly. “I’m done in half an hour. Can you wait that long?”
He nodded and returned to staring into his drink. Hannah went to the kitchen and fixed him a plate of Shepherd’s Pie, which he proceeded to pick at slowly as she finished her shift. When she was finally done, she met Neville at the Floo. She took his hand, and as they whirled out of sight through the leaping green flames, the knot of worry Hannah had been nursing since his arrival tightened.
As they tumbled out into a comfortable, if slightly fussily decorated, kitchen, Hannah righted herself and brushed the soot off her cloak. When she’d finished, she realized that Neville still hadn’t spoken. He stood, stock-still, gazing into the darkness beyond the kitchen window, tapping the fingers of one hand absently against the counter.
“Neville?” she murmured, “what’s wrong?”
He started, turning to face her as though he’d just remembered she was there. He quickly looked away, drawing in a deep breath before speaking in a low voice that Hannah had to strain to hear. “I got a letter today. From the Ministry. They’ve…offered me a position at Auror training.” He gave a short, disbelieving laugh. “I don’t even need my NEWTs, they said.”
“Neville, that’s-”
“I don’t want to do it,” he said quickly, his voice filled with emotion. “I just…Hannah…I feel I should, but last year was- I don’t want that kind of life.”
He sank into a chair, his head dropping into the cradle of his hands as though he couldn’t bear to meet her eyes now that he’d confessed. Hannah stared at his long, pale fingers as they speared through his hair. She could just discern faint traces of soil under his fingernails. Before she even knew that she’d moved, she was standing next to him, one of her own hands rubbing his shoulders and whispering soothing words.
As Neville’s arms came up to circle her waist and he buried his face against her, muttering his fears into her jumper, she wondered, not for the first time, when they would be free to just live again. It seemed an eternity since they’d been carefree schoolchildren.
She sighed, gently stroking his dark hair and looking out the window that he’d been staring through earlier, her gaze falling on the dark outlines of what looked like an abundant garden.
~*~
Early September, 1998…
Neville smiled with satisfaction at the soft plaid blanket that he’d spread out on the lawn behind Greenhouse Three. A picnic had been carefully arranged upon it, and a large sunflower in one of the clay pots Hannah had brought him all those months ago sat right in the middle. The sun was just starting to lower over the lake, casting a golden glow over the landscape - there was only one thing missing. He was just about to check his watch when he heard footsteps on the grass behind him.
Turning to see Hannah coming towards him, the setting sun burnishing her hair, his smile only grew wider. As he waited for her, he realized that he actually felt good. Peaceful. He supposed that that was what came from finally knowing what you were meant to be doing - and he couldn’t wait to share the news of the apprenticeship Professor Sprout had offered him. But he also knew that the witch who was striding towards him had a tremendous amount to do with his newfound happiness. Thank Merlin he’d finally had the bollocks to ask her out on a proper date. Thank Merlin she’d said yes.
At last, she drew up alongside him and slipped her hand into his as he leaned down to brush a kiss along her cheek. As they sat and began to enjoy their picnic, Neville thought to himself that though the road ahead was going to be a long one yet, he finally felt confident that he was going in the right direction. And as Hannah’s gentle laughter was carried away on the light fall breeze, he started to believe that maybe they were beginning to truly heal at last.
~*~FIN~*~
Recipient: katzpajamas
Title: All These Broken Pieces
Pairing: Neville/Hannah
Request: “When you’ve spent so much time learning to fight battles, how do you go back to normal?”
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2,304 (I know it’s a bit long, but I cut it down several times and this was as short as I could get it and have it still make sense - I hope that’s okay!!).
Summary: Hannah and Neville are both a bit lost after the Final Battle. Trying to make it on their own isn’t working, but maybe they’ll be better together.
Author's Notes: This is a sort of vignette style that (intentionally) leaves some moments between them off the page…but tries to evoke a feeling and tone with what it does show. It’s not a style I use too often, and I worked on it on and off all summer, so I hope it worked!! The title is taken from Snow Patrol’s song The Lightning Strike - Part iii, specifically “All these broken pieces fit together to make a perfect picture of us.” I hope you like it, katzpajamas - it was a lot of fun to write!!
Late June, 1998….
Neville bolted upright, his gasping breaths echoing loudly in the stillness of his bedroom. The air was stiflingly hot, the cooling charm he’d cast earlier having worn off, yet he could feel each bead of cold sweat as it trickled down his spine. The remnants of his nightmare were fading rapidly, but a creeping sense of unease lingered. A glance at the bedside clock showed that it was far too early to get up, yet Neville knew that sleep would elude him now.
He decided to venture to the kitchen for a cup of tea, hoping it might help soothe his jangled nerves. He grabbed his wand and left the room, padding carefully down the long, dark hallways so as not to wake his Gran.
As he waited for the kettle to boil, he glanced around the kitchen. Though he’d only lit one small lamp, and the shadows were plentiful, he could mentally map the topography of the barely visible cabinets and countertops with an ease born of long familiarity.
He felt restless, and not just tonight. If he were honest with himself, he’d felt this way almost constantly for the past two months - the agitation only subsiding when he went to the school to help with repairs or when he was out in the garden with Gran.
The kettle shrieked, jerking him out of his thoughts, and he quickly pulled it off the heat, unable to shake the nagging feeling that he was as out of place in the world as a Gurdyroot stalk in a garden full of Flutterby bushes. If only he knew what to do about it.
~*~
Hannah strode briskly along Diagon Alley, one arm weighted down with a bulging sacks from the recently re-opened Magical Market, the other cradling a package from the bakery. She was hoping that by getting the pub’s morning errands done quickly, she’d be able to do one of her own before helping Tom prepare for the lunch rush. She wanted to stop at Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes and see if she could find something for her brother’s birthday.
But as she rounded a curve where the Alley slanted off towards Knockturn, she found herself stumbling instinctively to an abrupt halt. The urge to scream came on so quickly and so strongly that she had to physically fight against it, and she stood there trembling as other shoppers pushed past her.
The tableaux that had paralyzed her - three figures in dark cloaks, arguing, their backs to her - began to dissolve. As two of the figures walked away up Diagon, the last remained, poring over the selections outside of the apothecary. She took a shaky breath, realizing that, far from the Death Eaters she’d taken them for at first glance, they were simply three wizards who’d been having a heated conversation. She tried to tell herself that anyone seeing what she’d seen could have reacted as she had, but it didn’t make her feel any better.
Feeling distinctly foolish, and still a bit shaken, Hannah finally forced herself to move. She made her way towards the Weasleys’ joke shop, though at a much slower pace. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened to her, but the last incident had been a few weeks ago, and she’d thought they’d stopped.
She never knew what would bring one on, but whatever the trigger, the result was the same - blinding, crippling panic. Once, she’d had one in the middle of the Leaky, dropping a whole tray of dirty dishes at the height of the dinner hour. Tom had waved off her profuse apologies and mended the dishes with a flick of his wand, but Hannah’s mortification had remained. At least this time she hadn’t broken anything.
Arriving at the Wheezes, she shouldered open the door, hoping that the cheerful atmosphere of the shop would help her forget her troubles, at least for a little while.
~*~
Mid-July, 1998…
“Hello? Is anyone here?”
Neville had been hunched over, repairing a section of wall at the back of Greenhouse Three, when a familiar voice made him leap to his feet. He moved quickly to the front of the greenhouse, smiling when he saw Hannah standing in the doorway holding a stack of clay pots.
“Here,” he said warmly, “let me.” He gestured at the pots before gently taking them from her.
“Oh, erm…thank you. I didn’t know where Professor Sprout might want them.” She smiled at him, but Neville thought there was something strained about it. He and Hannah had spent a fair amount of time together the preceding year and he’d always liked her, but it was only standing here now that it dawned on him how very much he had missed her.
“I know where to put them,” he said, turning to deposit them on one of the newly rebuilt shelves that ran underneath the greenhouse’s large windows. When he had put them safely away, he moved to face her again, only to find her leaving. “Wait!!” he called, feeling something that he couldn’t quite identify, but knowing he didn’t want her to leave just yet. “D’you have to go?”
She stepped back inside, crossing her arms over her stomach and leaning against the wall. “I can stay for a bit,” she murmured, her face lit with a genuine smile this time. She hesitated before speaking again. “It’s good to see you, Neville.”
He felt his face warm and ducked his head, hoping she wouldn’t notice. Now that she’d stayed, he felt a bit awkward - which was just nonsense. This was Hannah. They’d patrolled together, dueled together, survived together, and he’d thought they’d gotten to know each other rather well. So why was this suddenly so hard?
Breaking the awkward silence that had fallen, he pointed back towards where he’d been working. “Erm…maybe you could help me - your charm work is better than mine.”
“What do you need?” she asked, a spark of curiosity lighting her eyes.
He walked back to the wall and crouched down. She followed and knelt next to him. “See here? I’ve got the basic reconstruction done, but I can’t get it to look like the original part of the wall.”
She frowned at the stone and mortar for a moment, her ponytail swinging forward over her shoulder as she leaned in for a closer look. The sunlight lit her hair, making it gleam, and the strange tug in Neville’s chest that he’d felt earlier intensified. She smiled suddenly, waving her wand in a delicate pattern and he smiled too when he saw the stone meld seamlessly with the original parts of the wall.
“Brilliant.”
They continued to work together for the next few hours, moving from greenhouse to greenhouse, sometimes silent, but often talking about what they’d been doing since the climactic battle. Finally, they finished and sat shoulder to shoulder, leaning against the stones they’d just repaired.
Neville thanked her for staying and watched a slow grin spread across her face, realizing that this was the most peaceful he’d been in a long, long time.
~*~
End of August, 1998…
“Hannah! You’ve got orders up!”
“Right with you, Tom!” Hannah hurried across the Leaky’s crowded dining room, dodging the gesturing arms of patrons who seemed determined to knock her for a loop.
She was exhausted - over the past few weeks, business had picked up at least five-fold, and while Hannah was glad that the Alley finally seemed to be returning to normal, she also felt completely wrung out.
Scurrying to the counter and picking up the waiting orders, she realized that the only calm moments in her life recently had been the times she’d been with Neville. After they’d spent the day together working at Hogwarts, they’d run into each other a few more times - by accident at first, but gradually their meetings had become more planned. They weren’t quite dating, but Hannah truly enjoyed being with him. When so much of her life still felt unsettled, and so many wounds still felt raw, he was the one thing she could count on. His calm, quiet presence soothed her effortlessly, and he was the only one she’d confided in about her panic attacks.
She liked to think that he felt the same way about her - he certainly seemed to enjoy her company. And he’d trusted her enough to tell her about his nightmares. Visions of the Carrows frequently tormented him, but those dreams paled in comparison to the one in which the Sorting Hat never came off of his head and he simply burned away in front of the entire school. Hannah had wept for him once she’d returned home the night he’d told her about that one.
But despite how difficult some of the things they shared were, Hannah was infinitely grateful that she was able to talk to Neville this way, and honored that he seemed to trust her in return. It gave her hope that he might fancy her at least as much as she did him.
She’d been lost in thought as she delivered her orders and picked up empties. She’d just returned to the bar when a familiar face caught her eye. It was as if she’d summoned him with her thoughts. Neville sat at the far end of the bar, hunched over a Butterbeer. He looked up, and his expression, which had been a bit pensive, melted into a grin.
“This is a nice surprise,” she said quietly as she approached him. “I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight.”
His smile slipped a bit, and he sighed.
“Neville?” she said with concern, “is everything alright?”
He looked up at her, his expression softening again. “Yeah…well, no, maybe not…I just…are you off soon? Could we talk?”
Worried by his behavior, Hannah checked the clock quickly. “I’m done in half an hour. Can you wait that long?”
He nodded and returned to staring into his drink. Hannah went to the kitchen and fixed him a plate of Shepherd’s Pie, which he proceeded to pick at slowly as she finished her shift. When she was finally done, she met Neville at the Floo. She took his hand, and as they whirled out of sight through the leaping green flames, the knot of worry Hannah had been nursing since his arrival tightened.
As they tumbled out into a comfortable, if slightly fussily decorated, kitchen, Hannah righted herself and brushed the soot off her cloak. When she’d finished, she realized that Neville still hadn’t spoken. He stood, stock-still, gazing into the darkness beyond the kitchen window, tapping the fingers of one hand absently against the counter.
“Neville?” she murmured, “what’s wrong?”
He started, turning to face her as though he’d just remembered she was there. He quickly looked away, drawing in a deep breath before speaking in a low voice that Hannah had to strain to hear. “I got a letter today. From the Ministry. They’ve…offered me a position at Auror training.” He gave a short, disbelieving laugh. “I don’t even need my NEWTs, they said.”
“Neville, that’s-”
“I don’t want to do it,” he said quickly, his voice filled with emotion. “I just…Hannah…I feel I should, but last year was- I don’t want that kind of life.”
He sank into a chair, his head dropping into the cradle of his hands as though he couldn’t bear to meet her eyes now that he’d confessed. Hannah stared at his long, pale fingers as they speared through his hair. She could just discern faint traces of soil under his fingernails. Before she even knew that she’d moved, she was standing next to him, one of her own hands rubbing his shoulders and whispering soothing words.
As Neville’s arms came up to circle her waist and he buried his face against her, muttering his fears into her jumper, she wondered, not for the first time, when they would be free to just live again. It seemed an eternity since they’d been carefree schoolchildren.
She sighed, gently stroking his dark hair and looking out the window that he’d been staring through earlier, her gaze falling on the dark outlines of what looked like an abundant garden.
~*~
Early September, 1998…
Neville smiled with satisfaction at the soft plaid blanket that he’d spread out on the lawn behind Greenhouse Three. A picnic had been carefully arranged upon it, and a large sunflower in one of the clay pots Hannah had brought him all those months ago sat right in the middle. The sun was just starting to lower over the lake, casting a golden glow over the landscape - there was only one thing missing. He was just about to check his watch when he heard footsteps on the grass behind him.
Turning to see Hannah coming towards him, the setting sun burnishing her hair, his smile only grew wider. As he waited for her, he realized that he actually felt good. Peaceful. He supposed that that was what came from finally knowing what you were meant to be doing - and he couldn’t wait to share the news of the apprenticeship Professor Sprout had offered him. But he also knew that the witch who was striding towards him had a tremendous amount to do with his newfound happiness. Thank Merlin he’d finally had the bollocks to ask her out on a proper date. Thank Merlin she’d said yes.
At last, she drew up alongside him and slipped her hand into his as he leaned down to brush a kiss along her cheek. As they sat and began to enjoy their picnic, Neville thought to himself that though the road ahead was going to be a long one yet, he finally felt confident that he was going in the right direction. And as Hannah’s gentle laughter was carried away on the light fall breeze, he started to believe that maybe they were beginning to truly heal at last.
~*~FIN~*~