Neville Longbottom
The fangirls have spoken and the secondary character for this week's quiz is...
Neville Longbottom!
Yes, the Serpent Slayer, all around nice guy, and super cutie. So make your way to the greenhouses for some fun with Neville!
Want to give Hermione a run for her money in the know-it-all field? Simply play the quiz by commenting on this post with your answers at any time over the weekend. All comments with answers will be screened until the answer sheet is posted on Monday morning EDT. On Monday, all quizzlings with the correct answers will receive a pretty banner to prove their quiz prowess. Ready? Set? Play!
Match the quotes to the story titles without picking the red herring titles:
Time for a Change by reynardo
Killing Time by lariopefic
Country Rose by isis_and_neit aka somigliana and anijade
Worth a Thousand Words by laiksmarei
Pushing the Envelope by britt_1975
A Fresh Start by dickgloucester
Three Scoops of Vanilla by pigwidgeon37
A Wizard's Hierarchy of Needs by bookofmoonrevel
Things That Go Bump in the Night by madeleone
Across the Anvil by subversa
One of the Boys by rillalicious
Traps & Arrows by corianderpie
1. Neville Longbottom knew quite a lot about butterflies. Actually, he knew quite a lot about insects in general, having discovered early on that entomology was an important subsidiary for any serious herbologist. And Neville was a very serious herbologist, with a serious interest in one particular field of research: the influence of magical insects on the potency of medicinal herbs. He had devised one very specific research project, had written it up as a proposal for extra credit in his Herbology NEWT, owled the whole thing to Professor Sprout, and received enthusiastic dispensation from his teacher to come up to Hogwarts a week before the start of the new school year in order to get everything ready. Currently, Neville was digging over the school's extensive vegetable plots, which had been badly churned up during the final battle. He was doing it manually, not magically, as he found that monotonous labour helped him think. To the rhythm of his spade and his heavy breathing, he was methodically working out the final details of how to prepare his study of the influence of the Golden Ariadne butterfly as pollinator of common lungwort, a key ingredient of many potions used to treat respiratory complaints.
What Neville Longbottom did not know - at least not yet - was that he had quite a lot in common with butterflies. Just as a pudgy, unpromising grey caterpillar emerged from its chrysalis transformed into a glorious, jewelled creature, Neville had emerged from puberty and war as sex personified.
2. The huge, cast-iron gates swung open the moment Hermione and Neville materialized on the Apparition point hidden behind a cluster of oleander bushes.
"The wards are still set to recognize you," Neville observed. His sly grin was quickly burned off his face by Hermione's glare, and he cleared his throat. "Don't you think," he began cautiously, when they'd walked a few yards along the gravel path without Hermione turning him into a frog, "that it would be a good idea to be, well, honest about your feelings? Not" - he raised his hand when she tried to interrupt him - "not that I mean for you to open your heart to all and sundry, but maybe you could give it a try, just between you and me? Because-"
Hermione stopped in her tracks. "What makes you think I'm not being honest?"
"For Merlin's sake, Hermione, I wasn't born yesterday! I can read the signs, you know."
"You're a guy, you're not supposed to be able to," she muttered crossly. She did take his arm, though, when he held it out for her, and so he supposed it was safe for him to continue.
"Darling, I've spent my whole life surrounded by women. Not just Gran, but all those aunts and cousins. And since all the girls in Gryffindor, and not only there I'm afraid, seemed to think I was one of them, well... Rest assured that I speak Woman."
"You make it sound like we're some kind of alien species."
"You are, in a way. Don't tell me you girls don't think the same way about us blokes, because I know you do." He bent over to kiss the top of her head. "So, yes, I do see the signs, and I'm able to make sense of most of them. Besides you've already told me that you're not over Snape. But I think that the Lucius-chapter is far from closed, too."
Hermione sighed. "It's difficult."
3. "Come on, then. I have something to show you."
Snape rose from the table, more from surprised compliance than any real desire to see whatever it was that Longbottom wished to show him.
Longbottom stomped down the hall, and Snape realized uncomfortably that they were headed for the boy's bedroom. What was he going to be shown? Framed Herbology marks? Longbottom's Shrivelfig collection?
Longbottom opened the door and ushered Snape in, hissing, "Sshhhhhhhh," and quickly shutting the door behind him. Snape looked around, struck mute by what he saw. Tendrils of Maidenglory climbed the doorframe and dangled from it, swaying gently in a breeze only they seemed to feel. The left wall of the room was covered from floor to ceiling in wooden shelves, each obscured by plants from Alihotsy to Flitterbloom; Snape thought he spied a Fanged Geranium in the mix, as well as Mallowsweet, Bubotuber and Fluxweed; Gurdyroot, Puffapod and Asphodel. Along the floor were the large, deep pots housing the vines. The Devil's Snare grew up full and thick in the southeast corner, climbing the wall and pressing its leaves hopefully against the magical barrier that Longbottom had erected around it. In another corner was the largest Mimbulus Mimbletonia that Snape had ever seen in Britain. He wondered vaguely why Longbottom did not constantly smell of stinksap.
But truly, the most amazing sight in the room was the greenhouse. It seemed, through efforts both magical and Muggle, Longbottom had enlarged the window in his room until it was equal to the size of the wall. As he had never noticed it from the outside, Snape assumed that Longbottom had somehow rendered the wall into one-way glass, a complex charm that he would not have thought the boy capable of. The greenhouse itself extended several feet into the room and was bounded by a glass-filled, wooden framework. Inside there were enormous blooms shaped like umbrellas; a purple, beating Heartflower; and a medium-sized, but very healthy looking Venomous Tentacula, gnawing diligently at a gigantic ham bone.
"Great Merlin," Snape said under his breath as he took a step toward the greenhouse.
"It's teething," Longbottom said, a note of quiet pride in his voice.
4. “Longbottom, will you shut her up! It really gets on my wick when you encourage that harpy to spout any inanity that pops into that overly stimulated brain of hers,” he ground out.
Hermione knew she should be furious that he’d insulted her, but instead she found herself captivated by the fact that her buttoned-up and ever-proper professor had been so blatantly crude. “Sir, do my ears deceive me, or did you just swear?”
Neville roared with laughter at Hermione's child-like observation. “That’s nothing, Hermione. You should hear him when he’s had too much to drink after a visit to the wine bar portrait in the Third Floor Corridor. He has quite a vulgar vernacular, don’t you, Professor?”
“Sod the fuck off, Longbottom.”
Hermione's eyes and smile were mammoth. “You just did it again! I truly had no idea you used such base language, Professor.”
Professor Snape’s eyes formed razor-thin slits, and his voice became the very essence of venom. “Why would you, Granger? You know nothing about me beyond your school-age encounters, and most of what you’ve learned from them wasn’t entirely authentic.”
Hermione paid no mind to his disdainful disposition, her senses thoroughly dulled thanks to the alcohol currently warming her belly. “You’re absolutely correct, Professor, which is why I have been ‘spouting inanities,’ as you so delicately put it, to try and get to know the real you.”
“Oh, well, that changes everything," he announced, his voice dripping with saccharine sweet sarcasm.
5. His hand closed on hers as she reached for the handle, and he turned her to look at him. For a brief moment Hermione thought he was going to kiss her, but her merely held her hand, looked deep into her eyes, and said softly "Sweet dreams." She squeezed his hand in reply then let herself out.
Halfway down the corridor she ran into Neville, who was peering out the window at a late-rising moon. Neville looked tired, and did not notice her approaching.
"Spot something?"
He jumped slightly, then turned to her. The early moonlight caught his face from the side, and for a moment Hermione thought she was looking at a skull, then he rubbed his hands over his face and the illusion vanished as the moon dipped behind some heavy clouds.
"Just trying to work out the best time to harvest my special project. I've managed to coax some white-centred lupins to flower, and their calyxes are almost ready."
"And you've probably been up the last three nights just to make sure, haven't you?" Hermione laughed and Neville grinned back, looking more like the hero of the Battle than he had since she started back at the school.
"Were you always so good at picking my intentions, Hermione?"
"Not always. Sometimes. Go to bed, Neville - I'll finish your corridor walk for you, and you can check your seeds in the morning. You should know that if they weren't ready by the full moon three days ago, they won't be ready now until the new moon late next week."
He started to protest, but she shooed him off and commenced stalking the halls. Half an hour and a recalcitrant Scamander third-year later, she was more than ready for her own bed.
Severus's last words came back to haunt her though.
6. This scheme is not about penalising anyone, it’s about rewarding behavioural changes that will benefit all of us!’
‘No need to shout, Hermione. I know all that.’
‘Right here, Neville,’ she wails, ‘right next to my own article discussing the changes. His stupid column, undercutting them. Why? Why is he doing this? What does he have against me? Why can’t he show a little, a little-’
‘Gratitude?’ he offers.
‘No! No! Of course not gratitude. Maybe just something that’s not pure, pigheaded, nonsensical hatefulness.’
‘Because he owes you that much, at least?’
‘Neville! Stop it! You know he doesn’t owe me anything! All of us, everyone involved with his, his rescue and with the trial, forgave him his Life Debt to us without his even having to ask.’
‘Putting him, in a way, even more in your debt.’
‘You know Life Debts don’t work that way-’
‘Hermione, love. That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about his own sense of justice, his pride. Technically, he’s not in your debt, or Harry’s, or Minerva’s, or the Weasleys’. But in a sense, he always will be. It has to be galling to someone like him.’
7. "No offense, Hermione, but you've got a bit of a savior complex, you know." Damn him. Many were under the impression that Neville was dim-witted. Of course, this was no surprise when you considered how he behaved in Hogwarts, but something about that last year, that final battle, gave Neville the confidence to be the man he could be: intelligent, ambitious, and, unfortunately, extremely insightful.
"It's not a complex, really..."
"Crookshanks?"
"A thoroughly loveable creature!"
"House-elves?"
"I can't help it that they are so immersed in their own exploitation that..."
"Harry and Ron?"
Hermione stuttered before maintaining her composure. "Ron couldn't get along without a mother, and Harry never had one. What else could I do?"
"Malfoy?"
"He turned out to be an alright bloke. Someone had to..."
"I'm not trying to criticize, Hermione. I just think, you know, maybe you ought to start treating people like people, not projects."
Hermione stopped in her tracks and turned to face her friend. "That is a criticism!" she cried. "Do you really think I treat people like projects?"
"Not all people. Maybe just the ones who need a savior." He smirked as Hermione's face began to flush with anger. "I'm just asking you to consider, if you really have an interest in Snape, what exactly it is."
8. Ensconced in a pub with the other men of the party, Severus continued to focus his attention on Longbottom. Laying down an obscene number of pounds and obtaining an unopened bottle of Muggle Single Malt, he lured the young man to a darkened corner, and engaged him in quiet conversation, hoping the others would respect their privacy.
Thus insulated from the interfering assistance of Potter, Lupin, and the motley assortment of Weasleys, Severus set about to further his own plans. Pouring a third finger of whisky for Longbottom, he mimed drinking from his glass, then leant confidentially toward his companion and said, ‘Tell me about “Abby”.’
Longbottom startled so badly that whisky splashed over his fingers. ‘I … I …’ he stuttered, flushing badly and looking wildly about, as if searching for an avenue of escape.
‘You can trust me, Neville,’ Severus added, trustworthiness rolling off him in calming waves. Not for nothing had he been counted amongst the Dark Lord’s most essential followers; if he could hoodwink the greatest Legilimens the world had ever known, he could make Neville-Bloody-Longbottom believe he was his newest and best friend.
The expression of inebriated gratefulness on Longbottom’s face would have been amusing if Severus were less desperate. In response, he managed a thin smile.
‘I know I can, sir,’ the boy slurred.
‘Severus, Neville-you must call me Severus now.’
Longbottom nodded earnestly. ‘Right, Severus.’ He looked down at the scratched tabletop. ‘But how did you know about Abby?’ he asked his glass.
‘You told me about her,’ Severus responded with something akin to honesty, ‘Sunday night, when we had a pint in Long Leighton.’ In absolute truth, Severus had got that titbit of information by Legilimency, but why mince matters?
9. "But all through my childhood, I'd heard stories of how gran had supported the two of them when her husband went off to the army and got himself killed. She had quite a green thumb and a fabulous garden, and she sold her produce and flowers to the rich gentry of the area. She grew rare flowers and hybrid strains of fruits and vegetables and they were willing to pay a pretty penny for it all. That got me to thinking, what if I grew rare and unusual things like my gran did?"
"Like rare, hard to find potions ingredients?" asked Neville. "But if people wouldn't buy potions from your apothecary, why would they buy your ingredients... Oh, is that to be my role?"
"Yes and no, Neville. Originally, I thought of you because of your strong reputation in Herbology. You would be perfect for a partner in a business that grows rare and hard to find items. But then I started thinking, why limit myself strictly to the wizarding world? I've got jack shit for support from any of them. I did some research and I've learned that wealthy Muggles will pay unbelievable prices for certain delicacies, Neville. Fucking unbelievable prices."
Neville sat up and took interest. "What kinds of delicacies, Severus? And just how fucking unbelievable are we talking about here?"
"Coffee beans that have been eaten by a civet in their raw berry form and then 'harvested' at the other end. A hundred ninety-two pounds per pound British and in wizard terms-"
"Merlin's saggy ball sac! But that's over thirty-eight galleons for a pound of coffee beans that's been shat out an animal's arse? That's absolutely bonkers," exclaimed Neville.
"I know and it's just the tip of the iceberg," replied Severus.
10. "We're just doing paperwork today, Hermione." Neville smiled at her absently while he searched his desk for something, although how he expected to find anything on the cluttered surface was beyond her. Already she could feel her fingers itching to start organizing everything. "It wasn't something that couldn't wait if you were busy."
Hermione blushed and looked away, pretending to study the complete lack of décor in the utilitarian office. She wondered if Neville suspected why she was late and his next words confirmed that he did.
"Especially if you were busy convincing Professor Snape that he should apply for the position." Neville laughed when she ducked her head. "Luna mentioned that she thought things were going in that direction. I'm happy for you, both of you." Finally finding what he was searching for, he pushed a file across the desk toward her. "I think all the right forms are in there." He rose and came around the desk. "If you'd like though, I can give you a tour of the facility before you get started on them."
Hermione agreed eagerly and followed him to the door. "You know, Neville, you’ve never told me what made you think of Severus for the Potions position in the first place. Surely there are other potions experts you could have hired?"
Neville sighed as he opened the door and gestured her through. "There are, and I think that I've heard from every one of them in the last two weeks. They may all be brilliant, but I know what Professor Snape is capable of."
Neville Longbottom!
Yes, the Serpent Slayer, all around nice guy, and super cutie. So make your way to the greenhouses for some fun with Neville!
Want to give Hermione a run for her money in the know-it-all field? Simply play the quiz by commenting on this post with your answers at any time over the weekend. All comments with answers will be screened until the answer sheet is posted on Monday morning EDT. On Monday, all quizzlings with the correct answers will receive a pretty banner to prove their quiz prowess. Ready? Set? Play!
Match the quotes to the story titles without picking the red herring titles:
Time for a Change by reynardo
Killing Time by lariopefic
Country Rose by isis_and_neit aka somigliana and anijade
Worth a Thousand Words by laiksmarei
Pushing the Envelope by britt_1975
A Fresh Start by dickgloucester
Three Scoops of Vanilla by pigwidgeon37
A Wizard's Hierarchy of Needs by bookofmoonrevel
Things That Go Bump in the Night by madeleone
Across the Anvil by subversa
One of the Boys by rillalicious
Traps & Arrows by corianderpie
1. Neville Longbottom knew quite a lot about butterflies. Actually, he knew quite a lot about insects in general, having discovered early on that entomology was an important subsidiary for any serious herbologist. And Neville was a very serious herbologist, with a serious interest in one particular field of research: the influence of magical insects on the potency of medicinal herbs. He had devised one very specific research project, had written it up as a proposal for extra credit in his Herbology NEWT, owled the whole thing to Professor Sprout, and received enthusiastic dispensation from his teacher to come up to Hogwarts a week before the start of the new school year in order to get everything ready. Currently, Neville was digging over the school's extensive vegetable plots, which had been badly churned up during the final battle. He was doing it manually, not magically, as he found that monotonous labour helped him think. To the rhythm of his spade and his heavy breathing, he was methodically working out the final details of how to prepare his study of the influence of the Golden Ariadne butterfly as pollinator of common lungwort, a key ingredient of many potions used to treat respiratory complaints.
What Neville Longbottom did not know - at least not yet - was that he had quite a lot in common with butterflies. Just as a pudgy, unpromising grey caterpillar emerged from its chrysalis transformed into a glorious, jewelled creature, Neville had emerged from puberty and war as sex personified.
2. The huge, cast-iron gates swung open the moment Hermione and Neville materialized on the Apparition point hidden behind a cluster of oleander bushes.
"The wards are still set to recognize you," Neville observed. His sly grin was quickly burned off his face by Hermione's glare, and he cleared his throat. "Don't you think," he began cautiously, when they'd walked a few yards along the gravel path without Hermione turning him into a frog, "that it would be a good idea to be, well, honest about your feelings? Not" - he raised his hand when she tried to interrupt him - "not that I mean for you to open your heart to all and sundry, but maybe you could give it a try, just between you and me? Because-"
Hermione stopped in her tracks. "What makes you think I'm not being honest?"
"For Merlin's sake, Hermione, I wasn't born yesterday! I can read the signs, you know."
"You're a guy, you're not supposed to be able to," she muttered crossly. She did take his arm, though, when he held it out for her, and so he supposed it was safe for him to continue.
"Darling, I've spent my whole life surrounded by women. Not just Gran, but all those aunts and cousins. And since all the girls in Gryffindor, and not only there I'm afraid, seemed to think I was one of them, well... Rest assured that I speak Woman."
"You make it sound like we're some kind of alien species."
"You are, in a way. Don't tell me you girls don't think the same way about us blokes, because I know you do." He bent over to kiss the top of her head. "So, yes, I do see the signs, and I'm able to make sense of most of them. Besides you've already told me that you're not over Snape. But I think that the Lucius-chapter is far from closed, too."
Hermione sighed. "It's difficult."
3. "Come on, then. I have something to show you."
Snape rose from the table, more from surprised compliance than any real desire to see whatever it was that Longbottom wished to show him.
Longbottom stomped down the hall, and Snape realized uncomfortably that they were headed for the boy's bedroom. What was he going to be shown? Framed Herbology marks? Longbottom's Shrivelfig collection?
Longbottom opened the door and ushered Snape in, hissing, "Sshhhhhhhh," and quickly shutting the door behind him. Snape looked around, struck mute by what he saw. Tendrils of Maidenglory climbed the doorframe and dangled from it, swaying gently in a breeze only they seemed to feel. The left wall of the room was covered from floor to ceiling in wooden shelves, each obscured by plants from Alihotsy to Flitterbloom; Snape thought he spied a Fanged Geranium in the mix, as well as Mallowsweet, Bubotuber and Fluxweed; Gurdyroot, Puffapod and Asphodel. Along the floor were the large, deep pots housing the vines. The Devil's Snare grew up full and thick in the southeast corner, climbing the wall and pressing its leaves hopefully against the magical barrier that Longbottom had erected around it. In another corner was the largest Mimbulus Mimbletonia that Snape had ever seen in Britain. He wondered vaguely why Longbottom did not constantly smell of stinksap.
But truly, the most amazing sight in the room was the greenhouse. It seemed, through efforts both magical and Muggle, Longbottom had enlarged the window in his room until it was equal to the size of the wall. As he had never noticed it from the outside, Snape assumed that Longbottom had somehow rendered the wall into one-way glass, a complex charm that he would not have thought the boy capable of. The greenhouse itself extended several feet into the room and was bounded by a glass-filled, wooden framework. Inside there were enormous blooms shaped like umbrellas; a purple, beating Heartflower; and a medium-sized, but very healthy looking Venomous Tentacula, gnawing diligently at a gigantic ham bone.
"Great Merlin," Snape said under his breath as he took a step toward the greenhouse.
"It's teething," Longbottom said, a note of quiet pride in his voice.
4. “Longbottom, will you shut her up! It really gets on my wick when you encourage that harpy to spout any inanity that pops into that overly stimulated brain of hers,” he ground out.
Hermione knew she should be furious that he’d insulted her, but instead she found herself captivated by the fact that her buttoned-up and ever-proper professor had been so blatantly crude. “Sir, do my ears deceive me, or did you just swear?”
Neville roared with laughter at Hermione's child-like observation. “That’s nothing, Hermione. You should hear him when he’s had too much to drink after a visit to the wine bar portrait in the Third Floor Corridor. He has quite a vulgar vernacular, don’t you, Professor?”
“Sod the fuck off, Longbottom.”
Hermione's eyes and smile were mammoth. “You just did it again! I truly had no idea you used such base language, Professor.”
Professor Snape’s eyes formed razor-thin slits, and his voice became the very essence of venom. “Why would you, Granger? You know nothing about me beyond your school-age encounters, and most of what you’ve learned from them wasn’t entirely authentic.”
Hermione paid no mind to his disdainful disposition, her senses thoroughly dulled thanks to the alcohol currently warming her belly. “You’re absolutely correct, Professor, which is why I have been ‘spouting inanities,’ as you so delicately put it, to try and get to know the real you.”
“Oh, well, that changes everything," he announced, his voice dripping with saccharine sweet sarcasm.
5. His hand closed on hers as she reached for the handle, and he turned her to look at him. For a brief moment Hermione thought he was going to kiss her, but her merely held her hand, looked deep into her eyes, and said softly "Sweet dreams." She squeezed his hand in reply then let herself out.
Halfway down the corridor she ran into Neville, who was peering out the window at a late-rising moon. Neville looked tired, and did not notice her approaching.
"Spot something?"
He jumped slightly, then turned to her. The early moonlight caught his face from the side, and for a moment Hermione thought she was looking at a skull, then he rubbed his hands over his face and the illusion vanished as the moon dipped behind some heavy clouds.
"Just trying to work out the best time to harvest my special project. I've managed to coax some white-centred lupins to flower, and their calyxes are almost ready."
"And you've probably been up the last three nights just to make sure, haven't you?" Hermione laughed and Neville grinned back, looking more like the hero of the Battle than he had since she started back at the school.
"Were you always so good at picking my intentions, Hermione?"
"Not always. Sometimes. Go to bed, Neville - I'll finish your corridor walk for you, and you can check your seeds in the morning. You should know that if they weren't ready by the full moon three days ago, they won't be ready now until the new moon late next week."
He started to protest, but she shooed him off and commenced stalking the halls. Half an hour and a recalcitrant Scamander third-year later, she was more than ready for her own bed.
Severus's last words came back to haunt her though.
6. This scheme is not about penalising anyone, it’s about rewarding behavioural changes that will benefit all of us!’
‘No need to shout, Hermione. I know all that.’
‘Right here, Neville,’ she wails, ‘right next to my own article discussing the changes. His stupid column, undercutting them. Why? Why is he doing this? What does he have against me? Why can’t he show a little, a little-’
‘Gratitude?’ he offers.
‘No! No! Of course not gratitude. Maybe just something that’s not pure, pigheaded, nonsensical hatefulness.’
‘Because he owes you that much, at least?’
‘Neville! Stop it! You know he doesn’t owe me anything! All of us, everyone involved with his, his rescue and with the trial, forgave him his Life Debt to us without his even having to ask.’
‘Putting him, in a way, even more in your debt.’
‘You know Life Debts don’t work that way-’
‘Hermione, love. That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about his own sense of justice, his pride. Technically, he’s not in your debt, or Harry’s, or Minerva’s, or the Weasleys’. But in a sense, he always will be. It has to be galling to someone like him.’
7. "No offense, Hermione, but you've got a bit of a savior complex, you know." Damn him. Many were under the impression that Neville was dim-witted. Of course, this was no surprise when you considered how he behaved in Hogwarts, but something about that last year, that final battle, gave Neville the confidence to be the man he could be: intelligent, ambitious, and, unfortunately, extremely insightful.
"It's not a complex, really..."
"Crookshanks?"
"A thoroughly loveable creature!"
"House-elves?"
"I can't help it that they are so immersed in their own exploitation that..."
"Harry and Ron?"
Hermione stuttered before maintaining her composure. "Ron couldn't get along without a mother, and Harry never had one. What else could I do?"
"Malfoy?"
"He turned out to be an alright bloke. Someone had to..."
"I'm not trying to criticize, Hermione. I just think, you know, maybe you ought to start treating people like people, not projects."
Hermione stopped in her tracks and turned to face her friend. "That is a criticism!" she cried. "Do you really think I treat people like projects?"
"Not all people. Maybe just the ones who need a savior." He smirked as Hermione's face began to flush with anger. "I'm just asking you to consider, if you really have an interest in Snape, what exactly it is."
8. Ensconced in a pub with the other men of the party, Severus continued to focus his attention on Longbottom. Laying down an obscene number of pounds and obtaining an unopened bottle of Muggle Single Malt, he lured the young man to a darkened corner, and engaged him in quiet conversation, hoping the others would respect their privacy.
Thus insulated from the interfering assistance of Potter, Lupin, and the motley assortment of Weasleys, Severus set about to further his own plans. Pouring a third finger of whisky for Longbottom, he mimed drinking from his glass, then leant confidentially toward his companion and said, ‘Tell me about “Abby”.’
Longbottom startled so badly that whisky splashed over his fingers. ‘I … I …’ he stuttered, flushing badly and looking wildly about, as if searching for an avenue of escape.
‘You can trust me, Neville,’ Severus added, trustworthiness rolling off him in calming waves. Not for nothing had he been counted amongst the Dark Lord’s most essential followers; if he could hoodwink the greatest Legilimens the world had ever known, he could make Neville-Bloody-Longbottom believe he was his newest and best friend.
The expression of inebriated gratefulness on Longbottom’s face would have been amusing if Severus were less desperate. In response, he managed a thin smile.
‘I know I can, sir,’ the boy slurred.
‘Severus, Neville-you must call me Severus now.’
Longbottom nodded earnestly. ‘Right, Severus.’ He looked down at the scratched tabletop. ‘But how did you know about Abby?’ he asked his glass.
‘You told me about her,’ Severus responded with something akin to honesty, ‘Sunday night, when we had a pint in Long Leighton.’ In absolute truth, Severus had got that titbit of information by Legilimency, but why mince matters?
9. "But all through my childhood, I'd heard stories of how gran had supported the two of them when her husband went off to the army and got himself killed. She had quite a green thumb and a fabulous garden, and she sold her produce and flowers to the rich gentry of the area. She grew rare flowers and hybrid strains of fruits and vegetables and they were willing to pay a pretty penny for it all. That got me to thinking, what if I grew rare and unusual things like my gran did?"
"Like rare, hard to find potions ingredients?" asked Neville. "But if people wouldn't buy potions from your apothecary, why would they buy your ingredients... Oh, is that to be my role?"
"Yes and no, Neville. Originally, I thought of you because of your strong reputation in Herbology. You would be perfect for a partner in a business that grows rare and hard to find items. But then I started thinking, why limit myself strictly to the wizarding world? I've got jack shit for support from any of them. I did some research and I've learned that wealthy Muggles will pay unbelievable prices for certain delicacies, Neville. Fucking unbelievable prices."
Neville sat up and took interest. "What kinds of delicacies, Severus? And just how fucking unbelievable are we talking about here?"
"Coffee beans that have been eaten by a civet in their raw berry form and then 'harvested' at the other end. A hundred ninety-two pounds per pound British and in wizard terms-"
"Merlin's saggy ball sac! But that's over thirty-eight galleons for a pound of coffee beans that's been shat out an animal's arse? That's absolutely bonkers," exclaimed Neville.
"I know and it's just the tip of the iceberg," replied Severus.
10. "We're just doing paperwork today, Hermione." Neville smiled at her absently while he searched his desk for something, although how he expected to find anything on the cluttered surface was beyond her. Already she could feel her fingers itching to start organizing everything. "It wasn't something that couldn't wait if you were busy."
Hermione blushed and looked away, pretending to study the complete lack of décor in the utilitarian office. She wondered if Neville suspected why she was late and his next words confirmed that he did.
"Especially if you were busy convincing Professor Snape that he should apply for the position." Neville laughed when she ducked her head. "Luna mentioned that she thought things were going in that direction. I'm happy for you, both of you." Finally finding what he was searching for, he pushed a file across the desk toward her. "I think all the right forms are in there." He rose and came around the desk. "If you'd like though, I can give you a tour of the facility before you get started on them."
Hermione agreed eagerly and followed him to the door. "You know, Neville, you’ve never told me what made you think of Severus for the Potions position in the first place. Surely there are other potions experts you could have hired?"
Neville sighed as he opened the door and gestured her through. "There are, and I think that I've heard from every one of them in the last two weeks. They may all be brilliant, but I know what Professor Snape is capable of."