(no subject)
Title: Late But Not Too Late
Author: Vegablack62
Characters: Augusta, Neville
Word Count: 500
Summary: Augusta and Neville have an interesting conversation.
Author's Note: I think stories featuring Augusta are allowed here. Alice and Frank play a big role. I hope this story is allowed.
“Your mother would have liked the life you made for yourself here,” Gran said over her tea. She'd dropped by the Leaky Cauldron, so Neville had taken her upstairs to have a proper visit.
Neville stared back at her surprised, his grandmother had the grace to look chagrined for a small moment. “She loved pubs,” she said by way of explanation, adding under her breath, “Your parents ate at them often enough.”
His gran looked down and stirred her tea with her spoon, almost as if she was embarrassed, which Neville thought impossible -- he’d never seen this woman embarrassed in the twenty-nine years he’d known her. “She would have loved all of it - Hannah, the pub, the gardens, teaching at Hogwarts. She wanted you to be an artist. Isn’t that funny?” She gave him a weak laugh, shaking her head at the idea. “Your father would laugh and say that a boy had to inherit talent to be an artist and no one in either of their families could do more than make stick figures.” Gran sighed. “She wanted you to build things. ‘Something constructive,’ she called it. Teaching, growing plants, and making gardens would have fit the bill nicely, I think.”
Neville suppressed a totally inappropriate urge to laugh. She was telling him this now, when it would have meant the world when he was fourteen?
She looked old, sitting across the table in the moth-eaten fox fur and pointed hat he knew from childhood. Old and apologetic, or was he imagining too much?
“She didn’t want you to be an Auror,” Gran added almost casually. “She often said so.”
When he’d gone to Gran to tell her that he was quitting the Aurors, she’d said nothing of this, but had asked him how he could abandon his heritage and throw such an opportunity away. He’d told her the truth, that he had no choice, because the job was crushing him.
She’d had nothing to say to that, but had only wanted to know how he planned to support himself without an income. He’d asked her then for the use of her garden and greenhouse, thinking he could make a decent living growing Venomous Tentacula seeds for George Weasley. Surprisingly she’d agreed, readily allowing him the use of her property without complaint. Gran always spoke more tenderly with her actions rather than her words. One day she’d asked him how long he planned to waste his talents supplying ingredients for novelty explosives. He was grateful for the push. Drifting had been too easy during his recovery form the war. The Tentacula were slowly replaced by cherished ornamentals and experiments in breeding. He had a garden at her house still.
“Your dad thought the whole question ridiculous. You were just a baby and could decide for yourself when you grew up.” Gran sipped her tea, eyeing him over the top of the cup.
Neville smiled back at her. “Thank you Gran. Thank you for everything,” he said and meant it.
Author: Vegablack62
Characters: Augusta, Neville
Word Count: 500
Summary: Augusta and Neville have an interesting conversation.
Author's Note: I think stories featuring Augusta are allowed here. Alice and Frank play a big role. I hope this story is allowed.
“Your mother would have liked the life you made for yourself here,” Gran said over her tea. She'd dropped by the Leaky Cauldron, so Neville had taken her upstairs to have a proper visit.
Neville stared back at her surprised, his grandmother had the grace to look chagrined for a small moment. “She loved pubs,” she said by way of explanation, adding under her breath, “Your parents ate at them often enough.”
His gran looked down and stirred her tea with her spoon, almost as if she was embarrassed, which Neville thought impossible -- he’d never seen this woman embarrassed in the twenty-nine years he’d known her. “She would have loved all of it - Hannah, the pub, the gardens, teaching at Hogwarts. She wanted you to be an artist. Isn’t that funny?” She gave him a weak laugh, shaking her head at the idea. “Your father would laugh and say that a boy had to inherit talent to be an artist and no one in either of their families could do more than make stick figures.” Gran sighed. “She wanted you to build things. ‘Something constructive,’ she called it. Teaching, growing plants, and making gardens would have fit the bill nicely, I think.”
Neville suppressed a totally inappropriate urge to laugh. She was telling him this now, when it would have meant the world when he was fourteen?
She looked old, sitting across the table in the moth-eaten fox fur and pointed hat he knew from childhood. Old and apologetic, or was he imagining too much?
“She didn’t want you to be an Auror,” Gran added almost casually. “She often said so.”
When he’d gone to Gran to tell her that he was quitting the Aurors, she’d said nothing of this, but had asked him how he could abandon his heritage and throw such an opportunity away. He’d told her the truth, that he had no choice, because the job was crushing him.
She’d had nothing to say to that, but had only wanted to know how he planned to support himself without an income. He’d asked her then for the use of her garden and greenhouse, thinking he could make a decent living growing Venomous Tentacula seeds for George Weasley. Surprisingly she’d agreed, readily allowing him the use of her property without complaint. Gran always spoke more tenderly with her actions rather than her words. One day she’d asked him how long he planned to waste his talents supplying ingredients for novelty explosives. He was grateful for the push. Drifting had been too easy during his recovery form the war. The Tentacula were slowly replaced by cherished ornamentals and experiments in breeding. He had a garden at her house still.
“Your dad thought the whole question ridiculous. You were just a baby and could decide for yourself when you grew up.” Gran sipped her tea, eyeing him over the top of the cup.
Neville smiled back at her. “Thank you Gran. Thank you for everything,” he said and meant it.