So here is my new story, how you all enjoy it
I don't own any of the people or places J.K Rowling so kindly created
Chapter 1
Neville sighed as he tended to his plants in the greenhouse that his parents had built for him shortly after his birth. For as long as he could remember, inside he had felt empty - like a part of him was missing. He had asked his Grand mother about it when he was younger and was told it was because he missed his parents. Neville didn't believe her though. He loved his parents, he really did, but he didn't really know them so how could he miss something he didn't know?
The emptiness caused his chest to ache, it wasn't natural yet he never talked of it after that. If he so much as mentioned it, then he would be shipped off to St. Mungo's for a full health check. That was more trouble than it was worth. His Grandmother was paranoid after what happened to, well, his parents, anyone would be after suffering that. Neville sometimes thought it would have been kinder to let them die, at least then they would be at some sort of peace. He always felt retched after these thoughts - what kind of son would think that about his own parents?
Plants lessened the feeling. Many saw plants as something pretty to look at, that quickly become boring and then died just as fast. But he didn't see it that way. They are so beautiful, a paradox - delicate but yet just as strong. They fascinated him; what had the capacity to kill you and what could save you, all their properties and those ridiculously long Latin names that sounded like music when pronounced. He sighed in content. It was a perfect August morning, the sky a clear cornflower blue. The sun was just warm enough - not that scorching mid day sun that hurt his plants. Neville liked to garden in the morning and late afternoon, the sun had less power then and allowed him to work without the fear of damaging the plants.
Gardening was repetitive sometimes. Dig a hole, remove plant from its pot, place in the ground, cover with soil , pat down firmly then water. Mechanical, requiring minimal thought - dig, ground , cover, pat, water. Over and over. Day after day. He was so very tired.
Tired of the emptiness and tired of what was to come. The storm on the horizon that Neville just knew many wouldn't survive. He feared that upon his return to Hogwarts, his fifth year wouldn't be like the previous one or the year before that. Neville feared that the years would become more unpleasant and more painful. He believed Harry about the return of He Who Must Not Be Named. After all, why would Harry lie about something like that? He just wanted to be like everyone else, whereas Neville sometimes wished that he was more like him. Harry Potter was everything that a Gryffindor should be, and he was respected and listened too by others, plus the fact that he was a genuinely nice guy. Neville felt like he was a let down to the name of Godric Gryffindor - he wasn't brave or daring - the Hat should've put him in Hufflepuff, but no. The Longbottom family had been sorted into Gryffindor for centuries and this would continue with him - unfortunately.
Neville roused himself from his thoughts and rose from his crouching position, wincing as his knees clicked rather loudly. Bending down Neville collected his gardening supplies and wandered down the long aisle of the greenhouse, placing his tools on the little wooden table just to the right of the door. As he wandered back towards the house, Neville wiped his soil covered hands on his pants, internally wincing at the tongue lashing he would receive from his Grandmother should she see the dark marks marring his otherwise spotless trousers. Augusta Longbottom was a very stern woman who demanded nothing but perfection from her only grandson. Neville had big shoes to fill and was a little daunted by the fact, mainly due to the fact he was a Hufflepuff trapped in the lion's den. One of Neville's greatest fears was letting his Grandmother down, yet he felt he did so on a regular basis. He couldn't help but sigh as he traipsed towards his lodgings for the rest of the summer.
Walking through the back door Neville was greeted by silence. The kitchen was large and old fashioned with a huge oven with several hobs. The floor was black and white tiles, the work surface worn light brown wood, with matching cabinets. Off to the side there rested a six person table, that was used for breakfast, facing a glass wall of door that led out into the garden. Usually they were open on days like today. Kept the kitchen from becoming hot and stuffy. Not today though.
Continuing through the kitchen and into the hall Neville walked down the halls that were filled with paintings of places people had long since visited and tables that held years worth of trinkets. Vases of every shape, size and colour, some filled with flowers, others standing empty lined the tables along with fossils and shells and stones that an ancestor long gone had fancied to be placed there. Walking up the wide staircase carpeted in a greenish blue colour that complemented the pale portrait filled walls, Neville heard the faint strands of music wafting from down the corridor from his Grandmother's library. Walking towards the room Neville quietly pushed the door and peaked inside. His Grandmother sat in her high backed chair that faced the window at a slight angle so she would be able to see the door opening from the corner of her eye. However, today Augusta Longbottom was absorbed in her thick, old tome of a book, glasses perched on the end of her long nose. Even reading she managed to look every bit the aristocrat she was. Silver hair perfectly done atop her head, burgundy high necked dress and back straight even when sitting. Smiling slightly at the grammar phone playing classical music in the corner, Neville carefully closed the door and continued up the passageway toward his bedroom, down the hall, one turn left and three doors down from the library.
His room was simple, but to him it was perfect. Pale green walls, shelves over flowing with books on plants and their uses, a desk piled with the books needed for his summer homework as well as the texts needed for the coming year. Bed with simple sheets and an age old hand made quilt thrown haphazardly across the bottom of the double bed. His favourite feature in his room was the picture that rested upon his bedside table. It was a baby Neville with both his parents. His mother was holding him as she pointed to the camera while his father had his arm round his mother's shoulders and was looking down at the pair of them lovingly. Whenever he looked at this picture Neville couldn't help think how confused and lost his younger self looked. Placing the image back in its resting place with a wistful half smile, Neville ambled over to his overcrowded shelves and ran his fingers along the broken spines - contemplating which to read. Selecting one, he pulled or should he say wiggled it out from the shelf due to the sheer number of books and sat on his window seat, preparing for an afternoon spent in the world of another species.
Some hours later the dinner bell rang signalling the end of Neville's free time. Dinner meant having to spend the rest of the evening with his Grandmother and this sometimes proved to be a little awkward. Walking through the halls and passage ways, he walked into the spacious dining room complete with high ceilings and numerous candle filled chandeliers. Charms were placed upon them to prevent wax dripping down on any unsuspecting victims. The candles never ran out, the house elves made sure of that. His grandmother had beaten him there again, she was surprisingly sprightly for her age. Taking his place opposite her and waited for her to allow him to begin his meal. The head seat of the table and the seat to its immediate right both sat empty. Just like they had for the last 14 years. Neville sometimes believed that his Grandmother hoped that both his parents would return one day to fill the seats - however they both knew that this could and would never happen. His dinner was a chicken roast dinner complete with roast potatoes, Yorkshire puddings and various vegetables complete with gravy. They ate in silence.
"Have you any plans for tomorrow?" his Grandmother finally questioned him.
"No" came his reply. He hadn't had any plans the whole summer nor would he have any for the reminder of the break. Even his birthday had passed without any fuss
"Good" Augusta replied in her sharp voice, "We shall be visiting your parents tomorrow and I want you to look presentable. Make sure that you scrub your nails, we both know how filthy you allow them to become" she chastised.
"Yes Grandmother" Neville replied gloomily. He sometimes dreaded the visits to see his parents.
No further comments were made that evening and they spent to rest of the evening in the sitting room. Augusta reading and Neville tending to the Mimbulus mimbletona he had received off his Great Uncle Algie for his birthday.