A/N: Hogwarts Houses Challenges - Camp Hogwarts Challenge, The Quidditch Pitch, Drabble Club, and The Staff Room.
Prompt (Camp Hogwarts Challenge): Scavenger Hunt - write about the hunt for certain magical objects/creatures.
Prompt (The Quidditch Pitch): Sentence - He was late.
Prompt (Drabble Club): Word - kittens
Prompt (The Staff Room): write about the staff of Hogwarts.
Never let cats in a greenhouse. NEVER. (And Neville, because Neville.)
Disclaimer: If I owned HP, I would have commissioned myself a castle that is exactly like Hogwarts and be living in it. *looks around at non-Hogwarts-castle surroundings* Nope, don't own HP.
He was late. Oh, Merlin, he was so late – the last staff meeting before the start of the fall term and he just had to get caught up in spreading compost and forget the time! Now he had to suffer not only the embarrassment of being late, but the indignity of smelling strongly of dragon dung. It wouldn't be the first time for either, but the look Professor McGonagall – he still couldn't quite bring himself to call her Minerva, despite working with the witch for close to seven years – had given him the last time… Neville shuddered just to think of it.
The former Gryffindor skidded to a halt before the usual meeting room, not bothering to straighten his disheveled robes or hair, and held his breath as he opened the door – hoping that, just maybe, he could sneak in without being noticed.
"Professor Longbottom," the Headmistress's voice greeted him before he had gotten even a toe inside the room and the Herbology professor winced. "Nice of you to join us. Please, take a seat."
Since sneaking in was out of the question now, Neville straightened up and entered, shooting his former Transfiguration instructor an apologetic look as he took his seat – which was, conveniently, near the door and at least two feet from everyone else. It wasn't much of a buffer against the smells he tended to bring with him, but it was something.
Today, however, the odor was apparently bad enough to warrant intervention – Professor Vector pulled out her wand and cast a nonverbal freshening charm his way with a wrinkle of her nose. Humiliating as that might have been – he wondered if Professor Sprout had ever had that done to her – he flashed the woman a smile that managed to be at least a little grateful and then focused his attention on the meeting.
They covered the typical subject matter for this sort of meeting – patrol assignments, policy changes, the incoming students, and last-minute concerns. As usual, McGonagall kept things quick and on-point, not allowing the gathering to devolve into random chatter and reminiscence, but still making sure no one felt unheard. With her leading, the conference lasted just long enough and, also per usual, the Scottish witch drew it to a close with one last question.
"Does anyone have anything pertinent to add?"
A couple professors shook their heads, while several others simply began to gather their things to leave, when Hagrid (also sitting at the 'back' of the room, being the other professor who tended to arrive late and oddly odorous) cleared his throat and spoke up.
"I – uh – have somethin' to add," the half-giant said, standing up despite the fact that he did not need to in order to be seen by anyone. "I got some kneazle kittens a couple o' weeks ago – figured I could start the third-years off with somethin' easy. And uh… well, a few of 'em got out. So!" Hagrid brought his hands up abruptly, clasping them together with a noise loud enough to make those closest to him wince – including Neville.
"Er, sorry. Anyway. If ev'r'one could keep an eye out for 'em – they're only abou' four months old, bit o' string ought'a be all you'd need to draw one out an' catch it – and either bring 'em to me or lemme know you found one… I'd 'preciate it."
No one heard McGonagall sigh, but Neville probably wasn't the only one to think that she held one back – or at least did it in her head. What everyone did hear was her saying, "Thank you for letting us know, Hagrid," and adjourning the meeting. Neville didn't waste time on politely letting the other professors by him first – he knew better at this point – he just scurried out the door before he could get in anyone's way.
A quick exit also ensured he didn't get snagged by one of the other staff members – Neville liked his coworkers well enough, but the majority of them had taught while he was a student, which made talking to them more than a little odd. He would have thought he would be used to them by now, but outside of the greenhouses, he still felt a bit… young next to the rest. Over a year of working with Kingsley, Harry, Ron and the rest at the Ministry, plus four years under Professor Sprout and three teaching on his own had him well prepared to deal with the students themselves, but the professors were another matter entirely.
Which was why he didn't slow his pace from the half-run he had left the meeting at until he was outside – even then, he kept to a fast walk, eager to get back to the greenhouses. There were a few plants he wanted to check on, and then he needed to work on his lesson plans – as much as he loved his job and what he taught, lessons plans were a real pain in the arse.
He checked the more dangerous plants first, moving on to the less murderous (but still hostile) flora afterwards, and finally ending up at Greenhouse One, where first year Hogwarts students always started. It was always the calmest of the buildings, housing the least hazardous plants – but when Neville opened the door, he opened it to complete chaos.
Tables flipped onto their sides, pots knocked over and broken, dirt strewn across the floor, and the plants – the plants were trashed. Some trampled, some snapped in half, and others dragged out of their beds to the far side of the room. For a long moment, Neville could only stare. Then another pot crashed down off the supply shelf and he whipped his head around, catching a glimpse of a plumed tail disappearing behind a bag of compost. From the other side of the room, the sound of paws scrambling for purchase in loose soil brought his gaze up in time to spot a sleek, grey-striped body dive under one of the benches.
"Kneazles!" The word left his mouth with all the force of a curse and inspired another mad dash from the two creatures as they darted out of their hiding places, straight into new ones. How in the name of Merlin had they gotten in? Neville scanned the interior of the greenhouse, trying not to wince at the destruction, and spotted a roof panel propped open near the other end of the long building. Immediately, he groaned – he had meant to close that before leaving for the meeting!
"Just my luck," he grumbled, closing the door behind him as he picked his way through the mess. The roof panel locked with a snick and the Herbology professor cast about for something to lure the kneazles out of their hiding places. Eventually he settled on tearing a bit of twine from a burlap sack – hopefully it would be long enough to keep his fingers from getting scratched up as the animals dove for the bait.
String held in front of him, the end trailing the floor, he crept toward the last place he had seen one of the kittens, calling under his breath, "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty," in what he hoped was a soothing voice. Before he was really prepared for it, the grey kneazle launched itself at the bait, snatching it out of his loose grip and causing Neville to jump back with a surprised curse. The kneazle didn't seem to care; it had flopped onto its side, the string caught between its front claws and teeth while it used its back legs to kick the trailing end.
As he stared down at the small creature mauling the string, Neville couldn't quite help a smile – annoyed as he was by the destruction to his greenhouse, it was a cute. It got even cuter when it paused in its play to look up at him and meow; the wizard chuckled and reached down, dodging its swatting paws to scratch behind its ears. An explosive purr was his reward, the bitty animal leaving its toy in favor of leaning its head back into his touch. It did not even notice when he pulled out his wand and cast a light sleeping spell.
Scooping up the grey menace (cute as it was, it was definitely a menace), Neville deposited it by the door and went back to lure out the other one. Unfortunately, this little nuisance was warier than its counterpart. Twenty minutes, three pieces of string and four smarting scratches on the back of his hand later, he was on his belly, staring into yellow-green eyes and trying to coax the skittish animal from under a table with no luck.
Then the door opened and a familiar voice called uncertainly, "Neville?"
The former Gryffindor shot to his feet, slamming his shoulder against the underside of the table and knocking it against the wall. The noise, of course, spooked the kneazle and sent it sprinting for the other side of the greenhouse. Neville barely registered it, gaping at the witch in the doorway.
"Daphne?" he said. "What are you doing here?"
The Slytherin girl – woman, she was definitely a woman now – smiled at him, though her eyes were wandering around the building with undisguised curiosity. "I was looking for you," she answered, as if that should have been obvious. "What happened in here?"
"Kneazles. Daphne, I meant – what are you doing at the school?"
Her smile was more of a smirk as she looked from the sleeping grey kneazle by the door to him. "You were late for the meeting," she said. "So you missed my introduction. And you sat at the back, so you didn't see me."
The witch started toward him, choosing where she stepped with care. "I'm Hogwarts' newest History of Magic professor. Well, not exactly – technically I'm supposed to be assistant professor. Help teach the class, grade the papers, make sure students are actually paying attention – that sort of thing." By the time she finished speaking, she had reached him, her hands coming up to brush the dirt from his robes. Startled by the touch, Neville jumped and Daphne's eyes flicked to his, her smile dimming and her expression becoming uncertain.
"I could go, if you're busy," she said, her hands falling to her sides as she looked away. "Yeah, I should go – you've obviously got a lot to do." The witch took a step back, not looking where she was going, and her foot slipped on a wet leaf; she started to go down with a soft shriek of surprise. The wizard reacted, catching her arms and pulling her toward him at the same time she desperately tried to restore her balance by pitching herself forward. The combined momentum sent them toppling over backwards, Daphne landing on top of Neville.
"Neville!" She scrambled to sit up, get off him, and check him for injuries all at the same time – unfortunately, he was trying to do the same, but for her, and the two bonked heads hard enough to make them reel back with identical grimaces.
"Ow," they hissed in unison. Their eyes met and Daphne started to giggle, a sound that immediately infected Neville – in seconds, they had dissolved into helpless laughter that took several minutes to get under control. Finally, when they were silent, looking at each other, Neville reached out to brush a bit of Daphne's blonde hair back from her face and smiled.
"Would you like to have dinner with me?" he asked. The slightest widening of Daphne's eyes told him she was surprised before her lips curved up, smirking at him.
"Are you asking me out on a date again, Neville?" It was meant to be just a tad condescending – he knew her well enough to tell that – but the question came out with an undercurrent of delight instead, making him smile.
"Well, we never did get to go when I asked before."
He could see the moment she gave up hiding the fact that this was exactly what she wanted – it was there in the twitch of her mouth and the twinkle of her eye, right before she grinned.
"I'd like that," she said, her voice soft. "I'd like that a lot."
The kneazle chose that moment to knock another pot off a shelf, the terracotta shattering with a crash that made them both jump. Daphne giggled when Neville groaned at the continued destruction of his workspace, looking over her shoulder for the devilish creature.
"Would you like some help catching that one?" she asked, her hand slipping into her robes and coming out with her wand.
"Depends," he said, trying not to grin. "Are you going to help me clean up too?"
The witch turned back to him with a raised brow, only to be met by Neville's best beseeching expression, which he managed not to ruin by grinning. Her lips twitched again and she looked away quickly with an exaggerated sigh – he knew she did it to hide her smile. "I suppose I could."
The Herbology professor let the smile split his face as he stood, offering her a hand up as well. Daphne took it with a roll of her eyes, but Neville still caught the way she suppressed a smile and didn't take it to heart.
Between the two of them, they had the other kneazle rounded up and sleeping beside its companion in just a couple of minutes. Righting the greenhouse took longer, even with magic, but the sun had yet to set when they finished and carried the kittens down to Hagrid's hut. The half-giant thanked them profusely, inviting them in for stew and rock cakes, but Neville politely declined – he had been waiting almost a decade to take Daphne Greengrass out, and he wasn't going to wait another night.
A/N: I love my cats, but they're the reason I can't have plants. (That, and my forgetful nature kills them.)