Disclaimer: All credit for characters and world belong to the genius that is J.K. Rowling.
Chapter 2: Lost in Thought
Neville's point of view.
Soon after the battle of Hogwarts, Neville had obdurately declared to Gran that he was not returning. His statement was a source of consternation and argument between the two until he received a letter from Kingsley Shacklebolt asking if he would be interested in working with the ministry to hunt down the remaining death eaters and help to put the Ministry back together.
The chance for Neville to do the family proud and reestablish status quo had appeased Gran and allowed him to sleep at night. The thought of returning to Hogwarts had been foreboding at best.
The year of torment he had gone through while Harry, Ron, and Hermione were off finding the Horcruxes was too much to take and there was nothing left for him at Hogwarts anyways. After the battle, there had been a grim sort of celebration as the dead were buried and the living tried to respectfully rejoice the fall of Lord Voldemort, but all he remembered was the grief that clouded the castle like an inescapable fog.
While at the funeral for Fred Weasley he noted gravely Hermione twined around Ron as if he was the only think holding her up while Ron gripped her waist with an air of grief that seemed if he let go of her he would never be able to escape the blackness he felt. Neville knew that feeling because he felt it every time he visited his parents at St. Mungo's.
Yet he couldn't bring himself to empathize. The sight of Hermione's slight figure clinging to Ron had only made him nauseous.
In June of that year, he began work with the Ministry. Harry, Ron, and him quickly learned the ropes and became full-fledged aurors. Harry and Ron had spent much of their time working diligently and effectively to accomplish the task, while Neville helped where he could. His heart was never really into it. Of course, he had wanted to see every awful person who had contributed to Lord Voldemort's reign of terror face justice, but the raids and constant fear of being the target of a misplaced curse left him morose and depressed most of the time.
Also the amount of time he spent with Harry and Ron gave him a close view of the budding romance between Hermione and Ron, which more often than not caused Neville to want to punch a wall.
At the end of the summer, a ceremony was held at Hogwarts to show that the school had recovered and was a strong as ever, dedicated to teaching young wizards how to control and wield magic for good. That day was seared into his mind, as it was one of the last times he had actually spoken Hermione.
He remembered that she had been dressed in a striking but conservative deep crimson dress, as she had been asked to speak to the crowd. All of the Golden Trio had spoken in addition to McGonagall, the minister Kingsley Shacklebolt, and some of the school governors. McGonagall had wanted him to speak to but he had refused.
Hermione's speech had been eloquent and short. Up on the dais, he had noticed that she gripped the podium with white knuckles and seemed to be having a hard time. He noticed how much she had changed from the girl who helped him chase his toad around the Hogwart's Express. First off, she looked much more mature and was obviously, erm, a woman now.
Neville recalled to himself how beautiful she had looked, though he had always thought she was beautiful from the first moment she stuck her hand out to him and introduced herself.
But that day, her normally bushy hair had been tamed and coiled into a bun with some pieces dangling in front of her face which she would every few seconds brush away with a tense hand. Yet like every other male his age, his eyes lingered not on her face but in other places.
Her legs were tanned, shapely and toned leading up to a curved rear and skinny waist and she looked overall very…adult. Her obvious nerves had left her breathing quickly and her fluttering chest was showcased by the tight dress.
Neville remembered with a bit embarrassment, as he had stared, a familiar tingling sensation grew in his abdomen leaving his cheeks to grow red. It wasn't entirely an uncomfortable feeling and he regretted to admit that it happened whenever he saw, interacted, or thought of Hermione since 4th year but it was weird and had felt inappropriate for such a sobering event. He recalled the person sitting next to him, an unfamiliar sandy haired man in Ministry garb had stared at him in alarm, as Neville had seemed close to hyperventilation in the late summer humidity.
His mind had unconsciously drifted to other things not worthy of mentioning in polite conversation until he noticed the tears that rolled down her cheeks. She remained composed, but the falsely cheerful and optimistic address had never been reflected in her eyes which looked as empty as the day in 1st year when she had confided in him that she had overheard some of their peers saying terrible things about her behind her back.
After the ceremony finished, Neville had tried to approach Hermione and was dismayed to find that she was being bombarded by a horde of admirers with Ron protectively holding her waist while she pasted on a smile that never reached her expressive brown eyes. It didn't seem that Ron had any idea she was upset. He was probably just enjoying being the center of attention.
Remembering his disinterest in seeing that display of affection up close, Neville had gone to find Professor Sprout and chatted with her instead.
After awhile a tap on his shoulder led Professor Sprout to smile and excuse herself as he turned around in annoyance. He disliked when people interrupted conversations and smiled as he remembered he had begun to chastise a surprised Hermione before he realized it was her.
As he apologized quickly, Hermione, who was blessedly by herself, gave Neville a quick, yet fierce hug as she explained that she had missed him. The hug and her words had brought the feeling back to him and he sighed to himself as he remembered he had quickly pushed Hermione away so she didn't notice the effect she had on him, yet had longed to pull her closer, preferably leading her to somewhere private.
They had chatted for a few minutes and just as Hermione's eyes had begun to twinkle again Ron had approached and kissed her swiftly on the mouth as if marking his territory. He had never had an issue with Ron, but he remembered in that moment all he wanted was to violently kick Ron. The visibly shaken and upset Hermione had returned while Ron brusquely said hello to him, a look of wariness in his eyes, for reasons Neville still to this day never had understood.
The greatest regret Neville had in his short life so far was watching her walk away after he promised quietly to write to her. The brave man who had sliced off Nagini's head, who had been the first to rush forward and challenge Voldemort at the sight of a supposedly dead Harry, who had been immobilized and set on fire for his rebellion, would have leaped forward and embraced Hermione and whispered his feelings for her. Not even a whispered, shouted them aloud to all who listened.
He longed to go back and redo this, bending onto his knees and declaring he would fight for her until the end of time in an attempt to have made her seen that he was the one for her.
Yet Neville wasn't that man. He never had been. His bravery in the battle had been a fluke, a mere adrenaline rush. He had never gotten past a rough draft of a letter to her and to add insult to injury, Hermione had never sent him a message either.
As the year went on, Ron brought the letters he received from Hermione, who had went back to Hogwarts to finish school, to work and would beam from ear to ear as the letters would close with the simple words, "All my love, Hermione." How Neville wished those letters had been addressed to him instead.
Neville's temper was rubbed raw and when in June of 1999, Gran succumbed to illness herself, Neville almost lost it, once again feeling that blackness enclose him.
Smiling gravely, Gran gripped his hand as he sat by her bedside and said it was her time to go. They settled her affairs and she seemed to agree Neville should go off and start his own life. She offered him their estate but he declined, instead giving it to the Ministry to use as a sort of half-way home for children and adults whose lives had been ripped apart by Voldemort. He needed warmth and sun, preferably a place with fertile soil unlike the rocky terrain of their manor.
It wasn't until the end that Neville realized she was deceptively much older than everyone thought she was.
Gran left everything to him and gave him Chloe to keep him company and in two weeks time, Gran faded away in her sleep, maintaining her caustic humor and biting wit until the bitter end.
The funeral was small as she wished and helped him avoid the sympathy of the masses. He quietly arranged for the continuation of his parents care at St. Mungo's and paid for several years in advance, making only a small dent in the rather large fortune left for him. He never advertised his family's wealth, but as he sold the manor's belongings and other various properties the Longbottom's owned, the fortune got significantly larger.
When everything was in place, Neville ventured to Diagon Alley, booked a room in Leaky Cauldron where he could easily commute to the Ministry for work. Everywhere he turned there was a witch or wizard shaking his hand thanking him for helping. His brave killing of Nagini had been banished from his mind but was a known tale among most.
Killing was not in his nature, no matter the reason, and he tried not to dwell on those particular few moments. Surely all it had been was adrenaline and fury.
By November, however, he couldn't stand it anymore. The job with Harry and Ron who endlessly prattled about their lives, the unwarranted admiration of those around him, the dreary London life, and the loneliness all were getting to him. Particularly Ron who made a loud show of his evolving rapport with Hermione made him furious. Neville couldn't bear to hear of Ron's wonderful relationship…or sex life.
One day, after a particularly vivid desire to cause Weasley pain nearly blinded him, Neville approached Kingsley and resigned. The minister spent a long time talking to him. He had come to Gran's funeral, admitting to being a close friend of Augusta when she was an upperclassman at Hogwarts and he was only a first year. He was sad to see Neville go, but not surprised by his decision. The minister suggested Neville play to his talents as he had heard, Neville was a remarkable gardener, able to care for plants that had the potential to viciously maim most others.
People in the Control for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures which also was responsible for magical plants had supposedly told the Minister that Neville spent a lot of time in the Ministry's greenhouses, helping to cultivate plants that were needed for potions, but too dangerous to grow without the care of highly experienced wizards.
Surprised, Neville grinned at the praise from the minister who suggested he just stick to growing plants. The minister offered him a contract which stated that if he became a liaison to the Ministry for growing and harvesting specifically needed plants at the Ministry's request, he could cultivate any type of plant, magical or non magical for his own profit, ignoring all sub-laws of whether or not the plant was allowed to be possessed outside of Ministry hands.
Elated by the prospect of getting out of London, this was just the opportunity Neville had been unknowingly longing for.
After leaving the Ministry, his first stop was Gringotts, where he was taken swiftly down to the deepest caverns of the bank, now protected by a particularly large cave troll who relished in the dark dank environment was marginally easier to communicate with than the dragon. In the vault, he deposited much of the belongings he had not sold, such as his various books from his school days, most of them in mint condition since he had done little but skim through them, his Gryffindor apparel, school robes and apparatus, and lastly his Gran's famous hat adorned with the once terrifying, and now just shabby stuffed vulture.
Pausing for a moment, he grabbed the hat again. He didn't feel quite comfortable leaving it behind.
After, in a small leather bag he withdrew quite a sum of money and strode out thanking the goblin for his assistance. Once topside again, Neville took a deep breath and set off down the alley stopping in various shops for essentials.
After the day of shopping, he had returned to his room in the Leaky Cauldron with stacks and stacks of advanced growing guides and various essentials he had purchased to find a package sitting on his bed. After removing Chloe from her resting place atop the package he opened it to find inside was a small library's worth of top secret gardening information, privy only to the most elite of the Ministry's herbologists. Also was a small chest that he opened to find a small fortune in rare magical seeds, each one packaged and labeled meticulously.
An attached note in Shacklebolt's loopy handwriting wished him the very best of luck and a thank you for solving his problem. Supposedly, Voldemort's supporter's had killed his only herbologist who had the ability to grow most of these plants leaving the Ministry with an alarmingly low stock of the most precious and rare of potion ingredients.
Neville recalled staying up most of the night reading. The next morning he realized that he had nowhere to go to grow all these spectacular plants.
In desperation, he remembered fondly how Professor Sprout had guided him. A majority of the plants required a more tropical region and after a month of planning, Neville found the perfect location, with Professor Sprout's help.
By January he was settled in his new home. A small island off the coast of Italy in the Tyrrhenian Sea called Isola del Giglio. He had purchased a villa that overlooked the harbor of the port city. It was a small but airy two story house with white washed walls. The property itself was expansive and it suited him and Chloe perfectly. It was warm and sunny, a perfect place for growing.
He hadn't been this happy in a long time and the best part was that it was completely isolated from the rest of the world. A fresh start in an incredible place was just what he needed.