Note/Summary: I've written this fic as a spin-off of a longer story, "Back alone", set fourteen years after Deathly Hallows, and beginning with Neville, Harry and Hermione's discovery of a spell which resurrects werewolves. Remus is back, but those who cast the spell are sentenced by the Wizengamot. "Why haven't I told you" is set some years after, when Pomona comes back to Hogwarts: Minerva has retired, and Rolanda Hooch is Deputy Headmistress. But who is the Headmaster now? Someone who has never forgotten her...

Thanks to Sprinks, who betaed it. I wrote this story last August, when I didn't know that anyone else could ship them! Later... I found you!


Oh, baby, I've told every little star
Just how sweet I think you are
Why haven't I told you?
I've told ripples in a brook
Made my heart an open book
Why haven't I told you?
I've told every little star, words & music by Jerome Kern & Oscar Hammerstein II

Pomona lived in this king's reign. No other tended the gardens more skilfully or was more devoted to the orchards' care, hence her name. She loved the fields and the branches loaded with ripe apples, not the woods and rivers. This was her love, and her passion, and she had no longing for desire.
Vertumnus surpassed everyone, even, in his love to her. Once, he entered the well-tended garden, and admiring the fruit, said: "You are so much more lovely". There was a specimen elm opposite, covered with gleaming bunches of grapes. After he had praised it, and its companion vine, he said: "But if that tree stood there, unmated, without its vine, it would not be sought after for more than its leaves, and the vine also, which is joined to and rests on the elm, would lie on the ground, if it were not married to it, and leaning on it"
shortened and adapted from Ovid's Metamorphoses, chapter XIV


She had been a nice, plump, red-cheeked woman. So good-hearted, cheerful, and worthy to be the Head of Hufflepuff. The elderly white-haired lady who was crossing the entrance hall looked very fragile and pale, now. But the long-lasting affection that they felt for each other allowed Rolanda Hooch to recognize her and to walk towards her with her arms open wide. "Pomona! I'm so happy you're here! I knew you had come back, but... oh, darling, so much time!"

She was at Hogwarts. Twenty years later but, she had mustered the nerves to come back... there, where she had taught, cried, laughed, fought... where she had seen so many innocent people die...

"What about a cup of tea? And a room, sure, you're going to stay, aren't you? Oh, we've got so many things to tell each other!" the Deputy Headmistress jauntily said. "Let's go to my office!"

A seventh-year student (he was carrying a huge Advanced Potions book: he was, with no doubts, preparing for his N.E.W.T.) came near to them, greeting Rolanda.

"Oh, James. Do you need anything?"

"Well, yes, Professor. I've took some points away from my cousin... he went too far"

"Good" Rolanda answered. "Well, we must be fair. That Fred Weasley! Just at his first year, he already draws attention... it seems to have his father and uncle here, when... oh, how careless I am! Pomona, this is James, Harry Potter's eldest son, Gryffindor Prefect and Seeker. It's a pity this is his last year here at Hogwarts!"

"A young Potter? Are there more?" smiled Ms. Sprout, tenderly.

"Yes, of course. We have three, here at school"

"Nice to meet you, James, I'm Pomona Sprout. I was the Herbology teacher, when your father was attending Hogwarts"

James shook her hand. He was at the point of asking her if she knew Professor Longbottom, but he held his tongue. Sure she knew him, he and his father were House mates. And then, why talk about that? By now, he was long gone.

--

"Really, you didn't know anything about the matter?"

Ms. Sprout took a sip from her cup and answered: "I've just told you I never read newspapers. I mean... I've cleaned myself out, in a far-away country, with a different language; I felt myself different from the person I was, and I was sure to succeed in forgetting everything. But I'm here again, I don't know why. I've realized I need to spend my last years here, where in the end I've also good memories. But what were you saying about the trial?"

Madam Hooch began her tale.

"... No one has been sent to Azkaban, fortunately: Shacklebolt is still beholden to Harry, Ronald and Hermione... how could it be otherwise?"

"But Neville? What about my boy?" She spoke those words almost unknowingly.

"I know you were so fond of him... it's hard to tell you this"

"But what, what?"

"He's been exiled"

Pomona almost choked with her tea. "Kicked out! For having done right! Oh, things haven't changed at all, then!"

"Right, well..." Rolanda was now playing her role. "It's a crime to resurrect anyone. The Wizengamot just enforced the law"

But then she admitted: "I was so happy, though... when I saw Professor Lupin back and alive..."

Tea was getting cold.

Maybe it's better if I go to Hogsmeade and book a room... Why should I stay here at school? If I think about it, I've come back just because I hoped to see Neville again. Why else?

Suddeny, a red-haired girl opened the door wide and crossed the room.

"Professor Hooch! It's terrible, run, you have to run! Our Headmaster..."