Hannah Longbottom sighed and ushered her eleven-year-old twins out of the room, knowing her husband would at least like to sleep for a few hours more. Alice pouted childishly up at her, her face a picture of innocence, which contradicted the sound of breaking china that had broken the indulgent silence of their house a few minutes previous. "What did you break this time?" she said tiredly, suppressing a yawn.

Frank was quite tall for his age, his hair messy and unkempt; it was the same dark blonde as his mother's, but his bright eyes were of his father's. Alice was very small, but her hair was an ebony black, from her father, and yet her shining hazel eyes, mischievous and innocent, were the result of her mother's genes. They were both a handful, and spent most of their time causing as much mischief as possible; the both of them spent most of their time in George Weasley's shop in London.

Frank, her son, grinned mischievously and motioned the podium outside his bedroom, which was only a little way away, the third door along the corridor. Hannah sighed and moved towards it, waving her wand and vanishing the remains of her mother's vase, turning to her twin children with her hands on her hips. "It wasn't my fault!" squeaked Alice; "Frank came into my room at five in the morning yesterday and I was only returning the favour by slamming his door at seven! It was a very merciful punishment if you asked me…"

"Nobody asked you, though!" protested Frank loudly, turning to face his sister. "And anyway, yesterday was our birthday, Alice! I had a right to wake you up at five in the morning! But today was just uncalled for!"

"It was not!" retorted Alice, her hands on her hips in a perfect imitation of her mother, her tongue hanging out childishly. Frank was about to respond when their mother cut them off with a small wave of her wand, silencing them both.

Hannah ushered Alice into the open doorway four doors down the hallway, frowning in a reprimanding motion. "You're to be sensible until it's not some ungodly hour like this," she chastised. "And then you go downstairs and ask Iggy to start on the breakfast, please. You've both woken me up at such an unfortunate time that I won't be able to make you your own breakfasts. Consider it your own faults," she turned to Frank and pushed his door shut with a sigh of exasperation.

She had married Neville Longbottom when she was twenty-one, after spending seven years with him as quite good friends at Hogwarts. He had propose when they were on holiday in Paris, and they had been together for the past thirteen years. Two minutes into their marriage and she had become pregnant with their twins, Alice and Frank, and she didn't regret a moment of it, but what she did regret was introducing them both to their Uncle George, who had shown them the ways of prankster-hood. But, after all, she supposed they were lucky, being as happy as they were with the turmoil of the war still ruining lives.

"Hannah," groaned Neville, standing in the doorway, his shirt ruffled and his eyes drooping. She smiled at him and moved forward to tug him back into bed and he complied immediately, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist after he had shut their door firmly. "Why did we have to take them to that damned shop?" he murmured a moment later, his chin resting atop her hair and her head in the crook of his neck.

She chuckled. "I told you not to," said Hannah teasingly. "But we've been friends with the Weasley family for years now. I don't really regret it; we had no choice – they were going to see it eventually. We had to take them shopping for their Hogwarts things. Besides, they caused enough mayhem without ever going to see George."

"Why are you always right?" he inquired softly, leaning down to peck her lips. She giggled and flicked his neck, making him pout down at her. "You look like Alice does, sweetheart," he commented, and she smiled.

"No – she looks like you!"

"She looks like you, Neville Longbottom."

Neville laughed. "No, sweetie, she looks more like you than she does me."

Hannah frowned. "No – it's the other way around!"

He shook his head. "You."

"You," she countered. "You, you, you, you, you!"

"You, Hannah, you," he tapped the side of her nose, and she growled and leaned further into his embrace. "Alice looks like you, Frank looks like me. End of story."

"You!" she sang, but Neville shook his head tiredly, chuckling softly as she pouted up at him. "Oh please, Nev, she looks like you!"

Neville sighed and relented. "Fine," he said, and then he paused, watching her make a noise of triumph and snuggle further into his arms. "But I still think he looks more like you."

Hannah let out a huff and poked him in the chest. He laughed and tightened his arms around her, and she sighed in content. "You," she said softly, and Neville groaned and buried his face in her hair.

I know this sounds pretty cliché, but I had to do this. I was thinking about Neville and how he had changed, and then I thought of his future wife, Hannah Abbott. I'm pretty sure that I'm the only one who noticed it, but there was no romance between them other than their supposed get-together after the war, and no one elaborated what happened between them. I know it was mentioned he liked her, but when had they interacted with each other? The books never centred on either of them, so I decided to base my one-shot around them. I'm thinking of starting a one-shot series, because I've already written two or three, so tell me what you might think of that.

The title comes from the dialogue, so I ask you to read every single word. Not many people do that anymore and just skim over the writing. I hope you enjoy it; please review!

Love,

Marlene