"So it's my Dad's sixtieth next weekend," Hannah said, handing him a plate to dry. "My sister's organising a bit of a get together. We're invited, of course—if you're free, I mean?"

"Next weekend? Saturday?" Neville asked. "Sure, I'll come along."

"Oh, good," Hannah said, looking relieved. "I've got quite a few relatives coming, and old friends of the family. Probably quite a few people you already know, in fact. You know what old wizarding families are like for knowing each other... My Auntie Jean and Uncle Robert will be there."

"I know them," said Neville. "Your Auntie Jean plays Witches Brimstone with my Gran. She once told me I had knobbly knees and no sense of chivalry."

Hannah giggled. "That sounds like Auntie Jean," she said. "She's a delight."

"Well, the rest of your family is lovely," Neville said gallantly.

"And she said you weren't chivalrous," Hannah laughed. She handed him another plate to dry. "Anyway," she continued. "I thought maybe you could invite your Grandmother? And then she could meet me? Properly, I mean. As your girlfriend. You know." A blush rose in her cheeks.

"Er," said Neville. He concentrated on the plate as though the fate of the world rested on its dryness.

"I mean, if you think she wouldn't want to, that's fine," Hannah said hurriedly. "I just thought that she might be a bit upset if all those people she knows were there and talking about it to her and...about us. You know."

Neville swallowed. His voice seemed to have disappeared so quickly it was like it had apparated away.

"I mean, it's not like she doesn't know about us, but..." Hannah waved a hand, sending soap suds all over the counter. "Nev?" she pressed, noticing his face. "She does know about us, right? You said you told her that we were dating last month?"

"I did!" Neville squeaked. "I mean, I did. I definitely did. Definitely. Yeah."

"Well then," Hannah said, looking relieved. "Why don't I ask Naomi to send her an invitation? She's trying to get a guest list together so she can organise—"

"No!" Neville yelped, so loudly that Hannah jumped, and the glass she'd been watching fell into the sink. "Sorry. I just thought that she...that I should ask her first. Before she gets the invitation. If she's busy and can't come, she might feel bad. So I'll ask her first, and then if she says she's free, Naomi can send her an invitation if she really has to. Er—I mean, if she wants to."

"Okay..." Hannah said. "If you're sure that's how you want to do it?"

"Definitely," Neville said. "Definitely, definitely, definitely. Definitely."

"Well," replied Hannah, blinking. "That was very...definitive."

"It was," Neville agreed solemnly.

"So anyway," Hannah continued breezily, "what're your plans for tomorrow?" Neville immediately launched into a detailed description of his diary for the rest of the week, inquired in depth as to Hannah's own plans and prayed to every deity he could think of that she wouldn't notice his wildly transparent subject changes.

"Just go inside," Neville said firmly. "You killed the greatest Dark Wizard of all time's pet. You can do this."

He attempted to take a step further towards the front door, but his legs appeared to have been the victim of a Permanent Sticking Charm and instead, he just sort of wobbled around a lot. He took a deep breath and tried again.

"Are you a Gryffindor or what?!" No, no, that wouldn't do. "Hannah is a lovely girl. She's the best girl. What could Gran possibly not like about her?" he asked the begonias. They didn't reply.

"And, okay, maybe she'll take against her. I've heard the stories about her reaction to Mum enough times. But even if she does hate her, it's not like I'm fifteen and hopeless!" he said. The begonias seemed to be giving him a disbelieving look.

"Well, okay, it's not like I'm fifteen, then," he said. The begonias accepted this. "I might be hopeless, but I'm a hopeless adult. It's not like she can ban me from seeing her or anything like that. No. All I have to say is that Hannah is my guuhhh... My girl. My girl...friend." His voice shrivelled away to almost nothing as he finally managed to spit the last word out.

"Stop judging me," he snapped at the begonias. They appeared wounded. "Sorry," he whispered. "It's just that I've never—"

"Neville Longbottom!" He jumped fifteen feet in the air. "What on Earth are you loitering in the garden like that for?! Come inside at once."

"Sorry Gran," he said meekly. "I was just talking to the begonias."

"You were doing what?" his Grandmother called sharply, from the front door.

"Admiring them!" he said hurriedly. "They're looking very good at the moment. Yes. Lovely begonias. Lovely."

His Grandmother looked at him suspiciously for a moment, but softened slightly once he'd crossed the threshold. "Honestly, you and your plants. Still, I suppose there are worse obsessions a boy your age could have! Now, come inside and let me see you properly. As I thought, you're far too thin! Come along into the drawing room at once and I'll have the House Elves fix you some afternoon tea. Pookey!"

"Gran," he mumbled, embarrassed. "There's no need..."

A House Elf appeared with a crack. "You go and sit inside like a good boy, now," his Gran replied, turning her attention to the Elf.

"Yes Gran," he sighed, traipsing into the room.

"I have some news," he said, once the food had been consumed.

"Oh?" His Grandmother sat up sharply. "You haven't got anyone pregnant, have you? I knew I should have demonstrated that contraceptive spell better when you were younger..." Neville, who had begun to choke on his tea, turned pale at the memory.

"No one's pregnant," he said. "Or at least, I hope not. No, what I wanted to say was...was that...that I've...I'm..."

Other people might have gently or kindly prompted him, but not Augusta Longbottom. "Spit it out, lad," she said. "I've only got so many years left, you know, and I can't be wasting them listening to you blather on like you are."

Neville coughed. "Well, Gran," he said. "The thing is... I mean, don't take this personally, that I didn't tell you sooner, I mean. It's still quite a new thing...well, I mean, it's been several months now...quite a few months, but the point is, hardly anyone knows, which is, you know, a thing that—"

"Neville Francis Longbottom."

"Yes, well, the thing is, Gran, I've...um...there's a...I have a girlfriend." His face was approaching a similar hue as a tomato and his voice had risen to such a pitch on the last word that it was possible only bats had heard it, but he had managed to say the words, and he hadn't felt so Gryffindor since he'd beheaded Nagini.

His Grandmother was eyeing him beadily (but then, he told himself, she often did. It didn't mean anything, and certainly wasn't a cause for alarm. Definitely not). He picked up a scone and began coating it liberally with butter and jam, concentrating harder than he used to in Potions under Professor Snape.

"I see," she said levelly. Neville reminded himself that he was and adult now, and did not technically have to do anything she told him anymore. Technically.

"And when are you going to formally introduce me to Miss Abbot?" she asked.

Neville dropped his scone.

"Oh, for goodness' sake," she said, vanishing the mess. "I may be old, but I'm not blind!"

"But...but..." stuttered Neville. He and Hannah hadn't exactly been keeping their relationship a secret, but neither had they exactly been shouting about it from the rooftops. Especially not on any rooftops near where Augusta Longbottom might have been...

"Oh, alright," his Grandmother said, seeming to thaw slightly. "It wasn't that the two of you were terribly obvious, it was that she told me herself."

"She...did what?" Neville couldn't have been more thunderstruck if she had told him that he couldn't marry Hannah as she herself was running off with her.

"Ooh, it must've been a good few months ago now," she said, clearly enjoying herself. "I was out in London, with Jean Abbot—lovely lady, you know, always has been very reliable, and I'm told all the Abbots are like that—when we decided we'd get a bite to eat in the Leaky. Mark you, though, a few years ago you wouldn't have dared do such a thing, but I will say this for the younger Abbot: she's really turned that pub around. Now, this was about lunchtime—I remember, because Jean decided she'd have the sandwich special, and I had the soup of the day and we were debating—"

"Gran."

"Yes, alright love, I'm getting there. Anyway, your Hannah came out with our food and said hello to her Auntie—always a good sign, you know, a girl respecting her elders like that, and she said to me hello, Mrs. Longbottom and how are you doing and all the usual pleasantries and I thought to myself, this is beyond what you usually get from a waitress, even if she is dealing with family members. So I asked her if she knew you, as I remembered the two of you had been in the same year, and let me tell you, you could've lit a candle off that girl's face!" Neville felt his own face begin to glow in the aftermath of that statement.

"So I asked her how long the two of you had been together, and she said about two months, Mrs. Longbottom, and I asked her what her intentions were towards you—"

"Oh, Gran, you didn't," groaned Neville.

"Well, I had to—I'm not having some pub floozy running off with my grandson!" she said indignantly. "Anyway, she said they were exactly the same as his intentions towards herself, and I asked if that meant she'd be getting things moving at a similarly glacial pace, and she told me all about how she had to make the first move—"

Neville wondered if Obliviation had been invented for this exact circumstance.

"But anyway, the long and short of it is, she seems to like you very much and she wasn't afraid to stick up for you when Jean suggested that you were maybe a bit reluctant about things and she understands that that's just how you are, so all in all, I'm very happy for you," she finished. Neville dared to relax. He had been envisioning years of her giving Hannah the cold shoulder, deeming no one good enough for her Neville, as, by all accounts, she had done with his mother when she had begun dating his father. But it seemed that Hannah had made a favourable impression on her—which he was very grateful for, but more than a bit miffed that she had been watching him squirm for months over the prospect of telling his Grandmother about their relationship when she knew full well that his Gran knew all about it.

Augusta Longbottom's eyes narrowed, and Neville's relief faded away. "I must say, though, I do have a bone to pick with you about the whole thing."

"Oh?" Neville squeaked.

"Yes," his Gran said firmly. "Hannah is a lovely girl and the two of you seem to be getting quite serious, yes? This isn't some two-bit fling?"

"No," Neville said. "I mean, yes, we're serious. Very serious. Hannah's my...she's...we...it's...good," he finished lamely.

"I thought so," said his Gran, her eyes narrowing still further. "So you would have no objections to marrying this girl?"

"I mean, probably not straight away, we've only been together for about nine months," gabbled Neville. "And at least the first four months, we were pretty casual. And even once I knew we were quite serious...well, it's not as if you realise that and then propose right away. And even then, it's all down to Hannah saying yes, isn't it? So I mean..."

"So that's a yes, then," she said. "Now, you see here Neville Longbottom. That Hannah's a lovely girl, and I won't have you messing her around!"

"I'm not messing her around!" Neville protested.

"You may not think you are, but if you're being too cowardly to stand up and say to the world, 'this wonderful woman is doing me the honour of being my girlfriend, aren't I the lucky one?!', then you're both messing her around and not half the man I thought you were," she said, looking at him severely.

Neville conceded that she might have a point. "I suppose," he began slowly, "that one of the reasons I've been reluctant to tell people about me and Hannah, even though we've been together for a while, is because it means that it's serious, doesn't it? And that's...well, it's scary. But you're right, it's not fair on Hannah, especially not when I love her like I do. I mean!" he added quickly, looking surprised at what had come out of his own mouth, "I don't...no, that's not true. Of course it's not true. I love her, I do. I love Hannah, Gran."

His Grandmother gave him a small, but warm smile. "Of course you do," she said. "Now, you go on home and tell her that yourself."

"I will!" Neville said determinedly, jumping to his feet.

After goodbyes had been exchanged, Neville was just about to apparate away when a thought occurred to him. "Gran?"

"Yes, dear?"

"I'll admit that I didn't tell you about mine and Hannah's relationship because I was scared of what you might think of her," he said. "But you seem to like her lots, and I was wondering..."

"Why that is?" Neville nodded. "Well, she's a lovely girl—I've known her Aunt Jean for years," his Gran said, as though that settled the matter. "She was very determined to stick up for you, and I could tell just by looking at her that she feels very strongly about you. And even before I knew that the two of you were together, I could tell there'd been some sort of positive change in your life. You've been so very happy recently, and anything—or anyone—that makes you happy, makes me happy."

"Oh," Neville said. A fierce affection for his Grandmother settled in his chest as he leaned forward and hugged her, very briefly. "Thanks, Gran."

"You're welcome, dear," she replied. "Oh—but just so you know, I reminded her of how I hospitalised an Auror at the age of seventy six. Just in case, you know."

"Gran."

"Hannah Abbot!"

"Oh, Nev, you scared me!" Hannah said, giving him a perfunctory kiss on the cheek before turning her attention back to the staff. "It's the roast beef for table two, Kitty—no, that plate, not the other one! Clive, can you take that order out to table eight? I thought you weren't coming round tonight," she added to Neville.

"I wasn't going to, but—" Neville began, but Hannah was already calling orders to the other wait staff.

Realising he was getting nowhere, Neville turned to Craig, the head cook. "Can you survive without Hannah for ten minutes?"

Craig eyed the bunch of flowers—Honking Daffodils, Hannah's favourite—in Neville's hand. "Reckon so," he said.

"Come on then," Neville said, addressing Hannah. He took her by the elbow and gently but firmly steered her towards the stairs at the back of the room which led to her private quarters upstairs, ignoring her protests.

"You can go back down in a bit," he said, "I've just got some things that need to be done first."

"Is it terribly important, Neville? We've got a full house tonight, and I—" Hannah pleaded.

"And you have got the staff so well trained they could serve blindfold," he replied. "Now, sit." Hannah obediently sat down on the only seat in the kitchen—a lumpy sofa, salvaged from downstairs in the Leaky Cauldron when she had redecorated—and finally spied the flowers Neville was holding.

"Are those for me?" she asked, looking surprised. "Is it our anniversary? Have I forgotten?!"

"No, of course it isn't, you numpty!" Neville said. "But yes, they are for you. I don't know why you prefer these to normal daffodils, but there we are..."

"Thanks love," Hannah said, kissing him on the cheek. "I'll sort them out when we close up tonight; they'll look lovely on the windowsill."

"They will, and I'm glad you like them, but that's not what I came here to say," Neville said, taking a deep breath. "Hannah Abbot, I love you." Hannah looked mildly surprised. "I love you so much and I don't think I tell you that nearly enough."

"Well..." Hannah said. A blush was spreading across her cheeks, but she was smiling. "Much as that's lovely to hear, what's brought this on? Have you secretly done something terrible and are trying to get into my good books before I find out?"

"No," he shrugged. "I just thought that I should tell you."

"Oh," said Hannah. "Well, I love you, too."

"I went and saw my Gran today."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I told her about us. I kind of...lied when I said that I'd already told her; I was telling her for the first time today."

"And how did it go?"

"Good," Neville said. "It went well. She likes you, which is a big thing, believe me, and she told me I've got to treat you well. And also that she'll kneecap you if you leave me, but you can't have everything, can you?"

Hannah laughed. "Well, I guess it's good that she likes me, because I don't plan on going anywhere," she said, shifting closer to Neville on the sofa.

"I don't plan on letting you," Neville said, closing the remaining distance between them. "There is one question I have though."

"And what's that?" Hannah asked, her voice low and sultry.

"You know how you kept pushing me to tell her and acting like she didn't already know about us? Why didn't you say that you'd told her we were together?"

Hannah tried her best to look innocent. "Well, at first I felt really bad for taking the opportunity to introduce me to her as your girlfriend for the first time away from you. Then when I realised you were terrified to do so...it was just fun to watch you squirm."

"You're a cheeky wench," he said, and she giggled.

"But I'm your cheeky wench," she replied.

"Of course," he said, and then he kissed her.

Later, when the honking daffodils were lying discarded on the floor and the huge crowds in the pub had long since been forgotten, a thought flashed into Neville's mind and he half sat up from his position on the old sofa.

"What is it?" Hannah asked softly, keeping one arm around his waist.

"You're not going to believe this," Neville said, between bursts of laughter. "But you know how I was going to Gran's to invite her to your Dad's birthday bash? I completely forgot to say anything about it to her!"

"S'okay," Hannah said, finally opening her eyes. "I told Naomi to send her an invitation today. She might even have already received it when you went round."

Neville lay back down. "If she hasn't," he said. "You're coming with me when we go to tell her about it, and I'm not having any arguments."

"I would like to argue that we should stay here on this sofa forever," Hannah said, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek.

"On second thoughts, I rescind my no arguments comment."

"Thought so."

"Oh, shut up."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

For week two of hpshipweeks on tumblr - Hannah & Neville :) I hope you enjoyed it! Make up for my misery at owning none of it by leaving a review?!