Story title: the Gentleman Prefers Blondes

Chapter 2; entitled: poor-poor Neville

Author: billybobcsgun36 - - fanfiction (dot) net id# 641050

Category: AU - Alternate Universe;

Wherein Hp characters don't follow cannon in their behavior.

Standardized disclaimer: is there anyone on this planet that doesn't know who has all legal copy rights to Harry Potter, with us in fan fiction just burrowing it for our own amusement and that of our readers.

didn't intend to update so soon, but with only one reader - why not

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Chapter # 2

Entitled; Just short of Seven years later

Late May 2004

Wizengamot courtroom number ten

Ten in the morning

OoOoOoOo

"Your Honors, I really must object, the entire concept of indentured servitude is barbaric."

"Ms. Granger, I realize you were born and raised among Muggle's and this upbringing has tainted your worldview to be prejudiced against our Wizarding world's laws and traditions," The high judge declared sternly. "However, as a practicing barrister within our legal system you are compelled to follow to our laws. Your client has pleaded no-contest to malicious destruction of private property and accidental violation of the International Secrecy Act. He has been unusually fortunate in this case in that neither Dennis Creevey nor Mrs. Hannah Abbott-Longbottom wish the cause behind Mr. Longbottom's attack upon them at that Muggle-owned hotel to become public knowledge."

"She was cheating on Mr. Longbottom, just twenty-four hours before their third wedding anniversary."

"Mrs. Longbottom has already conceded in her disposition that her ill-advised rendezvous; with her thought-to-be secret and much-younger lover at a hotel in greater London was more than ample justification for your client's anger. This is the reason behind their decision to not press charges for the assault. Once that charge was dropped; there only remained the violation of the International Secrecy Act and the damages done to the hotel room, plus the fine and court costs associated with these proceedings… which I might add includes… your-fee."

"But sixty thousand galleons is grossly-excessive," Hermione argued.

"A large fine as an alternative to ten years of prison time served in Azkaban has a long-standing tradition in Wizarding law.

"It means that the rich can buy their way out of the crimes they commit." Hermione protested strongly.

"This alternative reduces over-crowing and the large fines act as a Deterrent. But we're not here to argue the merits of existing law; Ms. Granger. You were giving forty-eight hours to raise the money and by your own admission you have failed to raise the required sum. Normally this would mean prison for your client; however a private third-party has offered to pay the entire amount in exchange for a five year indenture…"

"That's slavery… that's uncivilized and vulgar."

"An indenture with a limited time-frame is not slavery Ms. Granger, and if I hear one more disrespectful-rant out of you, you'll be the one… spending the weekend at Azkaban, for contempt of court," the high-Judge hissed. "Furthermore; it needs to be pointed out that five years is far less than the more traditional eight years associated with the pay-off for such a large amount. Your client is getting a very generous deal, and I advise him to take it.

"Well Neville it's really up to you," Hermione said softly feeling defeated - as she sat back down.

"Five years is loads-better than ten in Azkaban, Hermione. So I take the indenture gratefully."

"Your honor, my client accepts the indenture."

"Very well, the third party's legal representative may now approach the bench."

OoOoOoOo

An elderly wizard very expensively dressed, got-up from his seat in the very back of the courtroom; with the high-judge eyebrows shooting-up in surprise. "Dennis Dickerson, my old friend are you personally handling this?"

"I'm not yet… too old, to practice law; Charles," the old wizard said with a soft smile.

"As senior partner of Dickerson and Smith, surely you have some green behind the ears solicitor like Ms. Granger here… to handle such triviality… your firm's legal-fee alone would-be more than twice the amount, of Longbottom's entire-fine."

"I'm not doing this for gold; Charles, Muriel asked me to assign someone to look-after her nephew; as a favor - -"

"- - Lady Prewett is involved in this?"

"Indirectly, she is unusually-fond of this particular nephew, and tells me constantly that he is the only one of Molly's brood with a head on his shoulders."

"An up and coming star in the business world… eh?"

"I don't know about that; but he's certainly found his nitch in life. He manages all twenty-seven of her estates across Western Europe and several of the 'Chosen-One' as well. Muriel boasts he's the best Chief Steward she ever had."

"Good stewards are hard to find, or should I say; honest ones," The high judge declared bitterly bespeaking a bad personal experience with the dishonest sort.

"I've had the boy watched Charles, also had him audited yearly. His loyalty and honesty are unquestioned. His books balance and he's usually under-budget. He apprenticed for two years under the great Thaddeus Thorn, just before the old-genius retired. And Thaddeus thinks the world of his last and perhaps finest protégé."

"So is the High Warden of the Prewett estates putting up a promise-bond through-you for the Longbottom indenture?"

"No, he's here personally; with a letter of credit from Gringotts for the full amount.

"That's not necessary Dennis,"

"I know it's not, but this boy pays his debts on-time, the moment they are due."

"Impressive," the high-judge asked suspiciously, "and your other purpose here today?"

"I wanted to introduce him to you personally, especially after hearing about the trouble you had with that embezzler who was your Steward over your estate in Jersey.

"You'd do that for me? The high-judge asked both surprised and delighted.

"I can't promise he'll take you on as a client, but yes …anything for an old Hogwarts dorm-mate

OoOoOoOo

"Hermione had not heard the hushed conversation between the two elderly wizards being far too busy in bending Neville's ear with her heated diatribe against magical-indenture. Neville for his part took her verbal abuse as any penniless beggar could with all the offended grace that he could muster.

He despised being forced to listen to the former Prefect's long-winded rants on house-elf's rights back at Hogwarts, but unable to pay Hermione's fee as a barrister, he bit his tongue in frustration at being her reluctant audience of one - as she spat-forth pure Non-understandable legalize. Luckily her boring to tears lecture of obscure legal principles ended mid-sentence and her head shot-up sharply when she heard the bailiff declare loudly;

"The Wizengamot court call's Ronald Bilius Weasley".

"The doors in the back of the courtroom slowly opened, and walking briskly; Ron entered dressed in a conservatively-cut, carefully-tailored, black business robes. His hair was cropped no-nonsense military-style short, and his active lifestyle and primarily outdoors occupation of inspection tours kept the young wizard trim and fit. He spared not a single glance toward Neville or his gob-smacked barrister as he marched up to the judge's Bench; where he was met with a question.

"Are you Ronald, sixth son of Arthur and Molly; of Clan Weasley, currently employed as Chief Steward to the noble house of Prewett?"

"Yes Milord Justice,"

"And it is your intention to assume the defendant; Neville Longbottom's criminal-debt in exchange for five years of servitude?"

"Yes Milord Justice,"

"May I ask; in what fashion will Mr. Longbottom repay his debt to you?"

"As a skilled botanist and Herbologist; Milord," Ron replied calmly. "There are two; one-hundred twenty yard long empty-greenhouses next to the gatehouse; at the fringe of the main Prewett estate in Kent. It is my intention to use his skill in magical plants to fulfill; in-house, the special plant needs of Lady Prewett."

"You're referring to her trademark purple roses; I take it?"

"Yes Milord Justice."

"You do know, Mr. Weasley that 'these-days' the ancient title of Milord Justice has been supplanted with the Muggle honorific; 'your honor'."

"My aunt insisted that I refer to you as I have done, and her wish is my command; Milord Justice," Ron replied with a formal-bow of respect.

"You refuse to bite the hand that feeds you, that is a wise course of action young-man," the high judge said with an approving chuckle.

"Something like that, yes Milord."

"Pay the clerk Mr. Weasley and then visit Dennis and me in my chambers, I have a personal matter to discuss with you,"

"It would be my pleasure, Milord."

OoOoOoOo

Ten minutes later; the gold transfer complete, Ron, with indentured servant Neville firmly in tow, found himself ambushed on his way to the High-judge's chambers by the youngest barrister practicing law in the U.K. Hermione Jean Granger.

"So you were just going to fly through here like a whirlwind without a word?" Hermione snarled.

"Ms. Granger, are you still here?" Ron replied sourly without stopping. "Your fee has already been paid, along with the Longbottom debt. Surely there is a hot and juicy law-book awaiting your attention somewhere.

"Ron, we use to be friends… real close friends," she pleaded.

"We apparently; 'only had Harry in common' Ms. Granger. Isn't that what you told the Wizarding press in Australia a fortnight after the battle of Hogwarts," Ron spat bitterly. "After reading your exclusive interview; I decided in my 'childishly immature fashion' unquote; that I didn't require another 'sibling figure', telling me what to do. My sister by blood …Ginny already had sixteen years of seniority in that job up-to that point."

"Kissing Ron during the Hogwarts battle was like kissing my brother," Neville said speaking-up mimicking Hermione's tone of voice perfectly; as he too quoted the infamous post-war interview, as pay-back for her patronizing attitude during his trial. "Yeah, I remember that interview too."

"The press took that quote out of context; Ron, as I've tried to explain a thousand times in the letters you returned unopened".

"But you do regard him as a brother - right?" Neville asked pressing for the truth.

"We grew up together for Merlin's sake," Hermione protested weakly avoiding the question.

"What do you want from me; Granger?" Ron spat coming to an abrupt halt and turning to face his former-flame. "We went our separate ways after the war, due to plain-as-day, irreconcilable differences. You see me and Harry as brothers, and Harry is fine with that. Problem is; I don't regard you as a sister and never will. Haven't you ever seen the Muggle motion-picture show called; When Harry met Sally?"

"You've been to the cinema?

"Always the tone of surprise," Ron snapped. "Birds and blokes can't be just friends, it never works. God made humans in two genders for a reason."

Hermione stood-there gob-smacked without an answer,

"Good-day Ms. Granger", snarled Ron bitterly before spinning around and disappearing into the judge's chambers.

Mione POV OoOoOoOo

Hermione stood motionless, staring at the closed doors as tears began to roll down her cheeks. She was now a brilliant barrister, everyone said so. But since giving a really ill-advised interview down-under …after the war, she'd also lived her life all-but totally-friendless. She'd returned to the UK and went right-off to Hogwarts on the same day …to repeat her seventh year after a summer in Australia finding her parents. But without her two best friends she found life very different.

Bookworms prefer books to people because books aren't offended by an arrogant reader. Once the center of attention because of being a member of the chosen-ones inner circle; she painfully discovered by coming back alone… that she had zero genuine friends outside of the trio. Ginny hadn't enjoyed studying any more than Ronald did and after her press-interview which highlighted her brother's shortcomings… whatever friendship Hermione had with the popular prankster quickly ended.

Harry in Auror training him-self …didn't write Hermione all that often, but then again Potter wasn't reputed to be a frequent letter writer. As for Ron it was as if he'd dropped off the face of the earth. Her letters to him like the ones from Australia were returned unopened marked addressee unknown. She hadn't intended to tell him how she really felt about him in a newspaper article and regretted the close-friend she had abruptly lost as a result.

Years later, her lack of genuine people skills still made her an unintentional loner. Her co-workers at the public defender office hated being talked down-too as if they were stupid and she knew everything. She had repeatedly tried extra hard to change this personality-flaw but each renewed effort ended only in failure.

Seven years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione… the committed career girl - more and more often, was going home alone, with her infrequent forays into the pub-dating scene; a series of disastrous evenings; spiced-up with the occasional and totally meaningless… one night stand.

So; after graduation; of which, two years were spent in a magical Law-school (top of her class… of course) Hermione went back to her one bedroom flat, every-night the victim of her own stubborn arrogant feminism. For she had failed to learn the simple ugly-truth that most Ravenclaw House girls had learned first-year, for one of life's great painful-truths was that boasting loudly about how much smarter you are than your date, rarely… if ever, - gets a girl a second evening out.

All those years ago, she had won the love of a boy that hadn't been at all, put-off …by a girl who was loads smarter than himself. Hermione had taken for granted that men like Ron were as common as dirt. Too late she realized the necessity to hide or greatly downplay her superior intellect just to protect the average male of the species sensitive super-fragile masculine ego. And playing dumb was something that Hermione simply refused to do. Reduced to a loveless existence, Hermione over time - began to regret tossing her teenage chance at romance aside.

Now standing outside the judge's chambers Hermione regretted more than ever that rotten interview in Australia. Once reprinted in the Daily-Prophet and quoted as saying that she regarded Ron as a brother, just like she did Harry, all contact with her favorite red-head was abruptly transformed to the same level of interaction that she had with her Muggle second-cousins… meaning exchanging standardized birthday and holiday cards in the post – all without a personal message. Hanging-out with Ron; one-on-one like she'd done so often at Hogwarts when Harry had detention… was over.

Hermione still saw Harry now and then, or spoke to him via the floo network. But their occasional get-togethers for a pint at a pub felt awkward to both of them. The source of wit and humor that made being in each other's company bearable …had been provided by the bloke she'd called her other brother. Every time she chatted with Harry the immaturity subject in regards to Ron came up and every time it did made Harry angrier.

**Flashback**

"I can't force him to come, Hermione; he doesn't want to hang-out with you …his so-called sister. He hasn't even seen Ginny, his real sibling for more than a few hours a year and that's primarily at family gatherings during holidays. His job involve loads of traveling, Ginny's still with the Harpies after her injury… as assistant coach. As for sibling nagging; Ron gets loads of that kind of rubbish through marriage with his sisters-in-laws Fleur and Angelina."

"It's been seven years and he's still being childish."

"Perhaps, but in the end… it's his life, and even you should know that telling a bloke that you regard him as a brother is a relationship-killer …nine out of ten times.

"That's ridiculous; men and women can interact without sexual tension. If not; then all men are ruddy-idiots."

"Gee thanks," Harry snorted semi-amused. "But it's still true, saying a bloke is a brother to you, is a total rejection of him as a man, it means you don't find him the least bit attractive... again as a man. Most normal blokes want to be around women that find them desirable and you don't 'feel-that-way' toward Ron.

"We were friends,"

"Being just-friends with a women not related to you by blood is hard."

***end flashback**

OoOoOoOo

Now, all because with a tiny slip of tongue, Hermione felt a tiny sliver of hope, for Ron had unintentionally reveled, that in spite of the hurt she had caused, he still desired more than friendship from her. After a near decade of zero second dates with a cart-load frail-ego blokes, that just had to be the dominate partner in any relationship. Hermione was desperate to be with a man where she didn't have to act like a stereotypical dumb-blonde. She had suffering emotional loneliness on a scale that left her way too often crying herself to sleep.

Hermione stared at the Judges door with a slowly growing smile. Ron's Freudian slip had opened the door for another grab at the brass-ring. She could still have it all, brilliant career and love.

The problem with this kind of window of opportunity for a girl that… rarely; if-ever admitted that she was wrong… about anything. Was the question of how to restart a romance …without actually apologizing for a seven-year old foot-in-mouth …interview mistake?

OoOoOoOo

Two months later,

Mid-November, 2004

OoOoOoOo

Neville POV

Neville Longbottom was a very happy man. Living in total obscurity in rural Kent, he'd been able to put Hannah's betrayal for the most-part; behind him, by simply working fourteen hour days to the point of exhaustion.

Ron as a 'task-master' wasn't one-tenth as bad as his bushy-haired feminist barrister had feared. Mainly because; his new 'master' was rarely around to treat him like a indentured slave. Ron had warned Neville from the get-go that as Lady Prewett Chief Steward he was required to travel extensively. And Neville quickly learned that Ron was rarely in one spot for more than three days in a row.

With his master always off inspecting one of Lady Prewett's estates Neville was for the most part left alone… literally his own boss. Ron had provided a cute if small cottage; located smack-dab in-between two …one hundred and twenty yard long seventy foot wide greenhouses. There were several outbuildings containing supplies for the Botanist compound as it was called, located a full two kilometer from the main Manor-house where the other servant's had their quarters.

Actually, Neville closest neighbor was Ron, who lived in the old renovated gatehouse some hundred odd paces from his own cottage. Although larger than Neville's cottage with the chief Steward always off inspecting Dame Muriel Prewett's other estates; the Gatehouse normally stood empty. Neville had been asked by his boss to keep an eye on Ron's place - which was no bother at all.

Isolated by design from the other servants, Neville had all to himself a two bedroom, one and a-half bath home …and best of all …the finest gardening-materials possible to transform half of the space of two climate-controlled huge-greenhouses floor-space into whatever he pleased.

Greenhouse number one, and twenty yards of greenhouse number two were dedicated to flowers of all types and colors in the rainbow, especially roses. Lady Muriel Prewett did indeed suffer from a major purple-rose fetish, and Neville was required to provide two dozen 'fresh' purple-roses every other day; all year round. Eighty yards of space made fulfilling that task childishly easy.

A house-elf from the main estate collected the flowers and left a parchment note with any special flower requests on the same table where the flowers were picked up. Thus a rejected and cuckolded Botanist could heal without human interaction. Thinking back to his first day as an indentured servant Neville recalled his instructions.

***Flashback

"Look Neville, I'm glad to bail you out of a fix and all, but I bought you indenture for a very selfish reason."

"Ron can I ask - - where you'd get the gold? Neville asked nearly overcome with curiosity. "You Weasley's aren't known for having a pile of gold that big."

"I'll have you know that I make 20g a year, that's One hundred thousand British pounds in Muggle money. Not all the bad for what Ms. Grangers calls a 'glorified caretaker.'

"How do you know what she calls you?"

"Harry,"

"You never got over her …did you?"

"Did you get over losing Luna?"

"Touché"

"Anyroad; to tell' you the honest to god truth - I didn't have the full amount. I've invested a-lot of my salary in George's new Qudditch supply shop. So I had to get a loan for half of it from Gringotts."

"And they gave it to you?" Neville said in surprise bordering on shock.

"Well I had a cosigner, my Aunt Muriel."

"In exchange for what?"

"Ten percent of the profits off the top, after expenses and a five year extension of my current employment contract," Ron said in a resigned tone.

Ron then offered Neville a sweet-heart deal. He proposed going into business with his old dorm mate. After fulfilling his flower obligation to Lady Prewett in greenhouse number one… Neville was to grow whatever magical plants yielded the highest cash-crop in greenhouse two and then he and Neville would split the profits; after materials and other costs… fifty-fifty.

As an indentured servant, Neville knew that he couldn't have gold in his own name until his indenture ended, in five years… so to get around this legal sticking point - Ron proposed that they put their combined profits in their new company's corporate Gringotts account - which would be evenly split at the end of Neville's indenture.

"But yours would be the only name on the account …wouldn't it?

"Yes it does break-down to trust that I won't rob you blind. But in case I get killed by a herd of elephants running amuck in London, My will lists you as my primary beneficiary."

"With anyone else I'd be a fool," Neville retorted only to see a hurt look on Ron's face. "But you're the most honorable of all the Weasley Clan… so okay you have a deal. One question though, what does Lady Prewett get out of cosigning the loan for my indenture."

"I pointed out that currently she spends about three hundred galleons a week importing her signature purple roses, that's fifteen thousand six hundred galleons a year," Ron explained. "The five year combined expense adds up to around seventy-eight thousand galleons. By growing those same roses in-house I'd save her ladyship nearly forty-eight thousand galleons above what she cosigned for - over the course of your indenture."

"Yeah, that makes sense." Neville replied.

Ron then explained that the rent on the cottage, room and board were all provided by lady Prewett as part of the cost of getting fresh roses with the only down side of this arrangement being the two house-elves that Ron insisted that Neville formally-adopt into his household to look after his personal needs.

"I don't need house-elves, Ron.

"You're going to do your-bit. As a pure-blood I'm frankly surprised that you don't have them already. You're in open violation of the Resettlement Act

"Do you have house-elves?

"Yes, four of them, two couples.

"Hermione would hex you into next year…" Neville began only to have his amused comment fade away when he saw the anger on Ron's face.

"Ms. Granger first name is not to be mentioned in my presence Neville. I want that clear right from the off", Ron growled. "Her unrealistic attitude toward the house-elf problem with her Muggle-based anti-house-elf-slavery crusade; was the primary reason, that she was sacked from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Dobby's obsession with freedom was the exception and not the rule among the elves."

"The entire reason behind the 'Resettlement Act' which Ms. Granger strongly aposed - was to prevent the mass suicides expected by those house elves that find themselves ten years without a living master. So many pure-blood families perished during the Voldemort uprising that even now there are literally hundreds of elves still without families to serve. They'll kill themselves enmass if we wizards don't take them in."

"I had no idea you were so passionate about this," Neville said softly."

"Dobby died for Harry and me, among others", Ron had said sadly. "It's a life debt I will never be able to repay. Ms. Granger's desire to force freedom on magical creatures that consider it the worst of all disgraces - is nothing less than genocide.

"Doesn't she realize …"

"Always right Granger? Are you mental?"

"She naturally knows better than us mere mortals?" Neville said with open scorn.

"Spot-on," Ron replied with a chuckle.

"Is it wrong to assume that I'm not the only one who you've 'pushed' a house-elf on?

"No you're not wrong. I foster-off house-elves whenever I can. My brother George and his wife Angelina for example both work …so the idea of a pair of house-elves for their home was an easy sale.

"And Harry?"

"I steward his Grimmauld Place for him. Kreature is too old and feeble to maintain such a large townhouse on his own, especially after I gutted the place and refurbished it top-to-bottom. So with a generous helping of Dobby guilt mixed with a-bit of gentle arm twisting …"

"…how many …total?" Neville interrupted.

"Just ten working elves; five couples, plus their nippers and family elders.

"Wow, and they're all enslaved?"

"Enslaved is a horrible archaic-term Neville, I prefer to look at it as long-term, life-saving… job security."

"Does Granger know about this?

"I don't really care – one way or the other," Ron said rubbing his chin as he thought it over. "Harry gave me card-blank in running the place and a huge pile of gold to renovate it, but since the war he's not-once been in the Black ancestral home. Bad memories he tells me."

"I guess so."

"But Harrys excuse doesn't really wash, I gutted the place; Neville. I removed ninety-nine percent of the Black family stuff. I only left the Black family tree tapestry room relatively intact and I restored all the burned out names on it …like Sirius and Andromeda."

"I even added Tonks and Teddy onto the black family tree and then went on to fill every square inch of Grimmauld Place wall space with equal amounts of Potter and Lupin family moving photo's or oil portraits. As Harry told me of his intention to turn the place over to Teddy when he's old enough, so I had to borrow as many photo's that Andromeda had of Teddy's mum and dad."

"I tell you it cost a ruddy fortune to convert magical photographs into magically animated oil paintings. But as a result of Harry's wishes in the tapestry room I have hung life sized magical portraits of Lily and James, Tonks and Remus, Dumbledore and there is even one of my brother Fred. I did all of it to make it comfortable to the rich bloke who never visits."

Neville couldn't help but wonder if Ron's estranged best-friends would ever realized to what lengths Ron had gone to advance their desires, Harry a home filled with family memories and Granger and her house-elf welfare campaign.

OoOoOoOo

Looking back objectively at his ill-fated marriage with Hannah, Neville openly wondered what he'd ever seen in the top-heavy bar-maid. He'd led a lonely life after his parents and then his Gran; Augusta had all died within weeks of one another, several years back due to an outbreak of deadly Asian magical flu. Maybe Hannah had sensed his loneliness and took unfair advantage of it.

Ironically as the three sisters of fate would have-it, the 'Caldron Cougar' as the Prophet began to call Hannah after the story of her affair with Dennis was somehow leaked to the press. Poor Hannah hadn't apparently gotten off completely Scott-free, from her many marital indiscretions… for her much younger boy-toy; Dennis, had put a bum in Hannah's oven …the night Neville had caught-them both in the act of shagging like rabbits.

In the excitement of Neville's revenge assault, Hannah had forgotten to do the morning after contraceptive-hex, and now it was rumored that Hannah was waiting tables at the 'Leaky Caldron' with an ever thickening baby-bulge.

She had cleaned out the Longbottom Gringotts account while Neville had sat in Azkaban jail-cell awaiting trial. So he entered his indenture literally penniless. A paternity-suit filed on behalf of his estranged wife Hannah by a hired solicitor; caused Neville to ask Ron for the gold to hire a barrister to defend him-self.

Ron hadn't objected when Neville had hired Hermione again to be his advocate. Her vigorous defense resulted in a very public and humiliating magical paternity-identity-test that thankfully proved Hannah's baby to be Dennis's love-child and not Neville's.

Once the Daily Prophet got-ahold of that news tidbit; Neville was able to beg yet another gold-loan from Ron… against his share of the flower business profits - enough gold at least for Neville to hire legal muscle …Hermione once again, to handle his divorce petition against Hannah.

Her love child with Dennis now public knowledge… allowed the cockolded Longbottom to proceed with his divorce petition charge of adultery against Hannah. Her proven pregnancy by the co-defendant in the suit …a bloke other than her husband made the divorce look like a slam-dunk legally speaking.

The only oddity was in the fact that Hannah for reasons unknown was fighting the divorce with every means legally possible. Her barrister every week repeated requested reconciliation between the two parties and when told of it by a clearly puzzled Hermione, Neville looked more and more amazed.

On a more personal level, Neville's dream-blonde still hadn't shown-up either …but then again, even his sex-filled recurring dreams had ended abruptly on the same night that Voldemort had finally 'bought-the-farm'. Maybe the two events were connected somehow, the demise of the dark-lord and his dreamt-about white-blonde Bellatrix wantabe?

Anyway, Neville hadn't seen his white-blonde in his dreams for many years now. He'd meet three women with that platinum hair-color since the war, but there had been no sparks, no desperate-urgency to mate. There was a growing part of Neville's mind that was really-sad that his wanking dream-girl hadn't been real after all.

OoOoOoOo

It was mid-afternoon, and Neville was in a special underground room underneath greenhouse number one's concrete floor, working strictly under artificial moonlight harvesting some hard to cultivate 'Wolfbane' plants for the biggest commercial potion ingredient company in the U.K.; Mathew & Lewis Potion Supplies LTD which had a wholesale potion-supply shop across from to Grint's Wizarding Chess Supplies in Knockturn Alley. Neville and Ron did loads of business with M&L Greenery, and Neville's share of the gold piling up in the L&W greenery ltd Gringotts business account was growing fat as a result.

The trouble with cultivating Wolfbane plants was the normal light – particularly natural daylight …instantly killed the highly profitable plants. To get around this difficulty Ron had transformed a windowless root cellar into an elongated photograph style darkroom. From the outer door there were two Muggle developing-room turnstiles doors that prevented outside light from coming into the moon-room.

It was there that Ron – fresh from yet another inspection tour - found Neville; half-way down the length of the moon room, bent-over several pots … carefully cutting leaves off a Wolfbane plant, with a small open shipping-crate next to him sitting upon a wheeled-dolly.

"Hey-mate, stop what you're doing and get cleaned-up, the boss wants to see-you up at the big-house."

"Ron is that you? Welcome back, how was Germany?"

"Yeah it's me – I just got in – and not good. The Prewett castle of Odo de Metz located just north of the city of Aachen had a huge-fire recently, and I think the Prewett Steward in-charge there deliberately set-it."

"Why for Merlin's sake."

"To cover-up his wife's possible murder and perhaps the art he's might have been stealing. I gave a list of the art on site to the local Auror's and if any of it shows-up on the black-market, Han's arse is toast."

"Does that happen often?"

"Murder rarely - and as for art theft, not as much as it used to," Ron replied smugly. "I did a full audit and inventory of all of Lady Prewett's properties three years ago, right down to the finger-bowls. Frequent surprise inventory-audits over the last few years has cut-down thief dramatically… but occasionally; we still-get a bad-egg."

"And then -"

"- They go to jail. I have zero tolerance for sticky-fingers among Milady's' human employees. It's said that the Germans have a Wizarding prison that makes Azkaban look-like a five-star resort on the Rivera by comparison …especially when it comes to prisoner comfort. If the Prewett-steward of Lady Muriel's Aachen estate is proven to be the arsonist, or a murderer, - - Merlin, help-him."

"And the house-elves?"

"They survived the fire, thank-god. My best security system – as a matter of fact;" Ron said literally beaming with delight. "Treat magical creatures with respect, improve their living conditions and honor their traditions and the return in loyalty alone; repays the investment, a thousand fold."

"Then Hermione was right… " Neville began; although his voice faded when he saw Ron frown deeply.

"What did I tell you …about usingGranger's first name around me" - - Ron shouted before quickly regaining his self-control – "and NO she was wrong …dead wrong, that stupid bint still wants to free the entire-lot.

"Yes –yes – calm-down, Ron you're preaching to the choir," Neville said lifting both hands up in surrender to forestall Ron from losing his temper again. "I've spoken in length - to my house-elves on the subject and you are right. Freedom to a house-elf is as socially unacceptable to elves …as having sex with a Centaur is to Wizarding society. Nine out of ten freed house-elves commit suicide with ten years of losing their masters; just like poor Winky did."

"Winky… you remember Winky?"

"Barty Crotch's elf; got herself-sacked during the Quidditch World Cup back in 94. She was dead by late 97, drank-herself to death on butterbeer. She helped me loads with the DA while the trio was off on your seventh year camping trip. She snuck food into us in the room of requirement, washed clothing, all by her-self mind-you?"

"And before you say it… I know full-well that Granger learned nothing from Winky's death", Neville continued with contempt. "But she is a dam good barrister, that works cheap and as long as I can put up with her holier than thou rants on how superior the Muggle's are morally to us primitive wizards. She's just the bird to free me from Hannah."

"She did it all the time, over and over again, during our Hogwarts years; trying to impose Muggle values on our Wizarding community. I tried to point out … just once, that it took countless centuries to wean human civilization of slavery, and human slaves were the same species as their masters – but my pleas naturally fell on deaf ears. House-elves are not-even remotely Human, their magical and their difference in species alone… their …their"… Ron said furiously, stopping abruptly when he realized he was shouting at his friend. "You just can't have an intelligent conversation with a woman who doesn't think you smart enough to tie your shoes properly."

"Yeah, I found that out for myself - thanks," Neville replied.

"Sorry, Neville," Ron said apologetically… blushing hard. "I forget that you have to deal with her now for the sake of your divorce. I imagine you are now on the receiving end of her morality rants, just like I use to be."

"And I don't have the incentive to put up with it like you did back at Hogwarts. The plight of house-elves was always a point of friction between you-two and it's odd that even after all these years …your non-blood related sibling …can still make you crazy."

"I wanted to shag her, I wasn't thinking with the right head," Ron said trying to make a lame joke

"Bullocks, you still love her," Neville retorted.

"Yeah, but as everyone in England knows - it was never requited, so I'm still the only one that's pining away for a long-ago lost love. Besides; as one of the 'Golden Duo' from the war - every time our national heroine goes-out on a date - its national news," Ron said somewhat bitterly… taking a deep steadying breath… shook his head to clear-it as he stiffened his back in resolve.

"Pathetic; the pair of us, Cupid must really hate-us, Neville. We're extra-handsome charming-blokes, and yet were attracted to the wrong sort of birds. Girls that only want to be our sister's," He said with his famous ironic wit.

"Oh yeah; we're so hot looking, we have to beat the birds off with sticks". Neville joked back.

"Well get yourself cleaned-up. Lady Muriel, a-waits.

OoOoOoOo

An to my sole reader – what do you think? I'm trying to keep my chapter size down.