LbN: Here's chapter one! Hope you guys like it!
Frost at Midnight
Neville slept like a herbologist. That is to say, he kept the window open, and woke at any subtle change in the weather. Thus, he had been awake for an hour, since the temperature had begun to fall at eleven o'clock. Tired though he was, he wouldn't be able to fall asleep. He tended to worry about his plants on the first snow of winter.
The night was quiet; the snow was falling without the help of any wind. Setting his book down on his night stand, Neville slipped quietly out of his and Hannah's bedroom and walked down the hall. Peeking into one of the other rooms, he smiled as he saw his son sleeping soundly in his crib. Neville tiptoed in and sat in the rocking chair. He glanced over through the bars of the crib, smiling and wondering if Harry's second boy looked as much like Harry as Frankie looked like Neville.
He began to rock in the chair, and remembered with a small yawn the last time it had snowed like this. It was seven years ago, one year after the fall of Voldemort.
"Good evening Mr. Longbottom," McGonagall smiled.
"Hello," Neville smiled and shivered as he took off his cloak.
The nineteen year old had sent a letter to the Headmistress two weeks ago and now was meeting her in the Three Broomsticks after a week of travel.
"How have you been?" his former professor asked.
"Cold," Neville smiled, "I'd forgotten how cold this country can be."
"I hadn't heard from you in a few months."
"After Gran died, I went to live with my great aunt on my mum's side. She's down in Granada, Spain. I…it was hard. I turned into my studies, and didn't really keep in touch with anyone but Harry. I had the idea two weeks ago, and…well, I missed Great Britain. When you wrote back to me, I got it into my head that I wanted to see Wales and Scotland again."
"I see," McGonagall nodded, sipping her tea, "Well, I've spoken to Professor Sprout, and she is more than willing to take you on as an apprentice. She wishes that you begin as soon as possible."
The young man's face broke into a look of shear happiness. Barely suppressing the urge to jump up and whoop. He did, however, begin to shake with happy chuckles. McGonagall smiled a bit, before handing Neville a few sheets of parchment. Taking them, Neville grinned once more at McGonagall and read them carefully. The pages contained the stipulations of his apprenticeship and he readily signed when he was done reading.
"You'll come back to the castle?" McGonagall asked, "You'll have your own quarters, of course. And there are no preparations to be made, save for the changing of some sheets and dusting. I'll send a message up to the castle, if you would like to move in tonight. Your room and office would be ready by the time you finished supper."
"I'd like that very much, thank you," Neville said, dropping a couple of sickles on the bar.
Minutes later, they entered the castle gates. Walking up the familiar steps of the castle, Neville really did jump up and let out a cry of joy.
FAM
He woke to the cold. He looked out over the snow covered grounds of Hogwarts, and reflected on the past few weeks. Warm, comfortable, and loved dearly in Granada, he had known that his great aunt was under financial strain while keeping him. She had told him repeatedly that this wasn't the case, but he knew better. Two weeks ago, while studying some of his plants, he had decided to write the Headmistress and ask for a position under the Herbology professor. While he had told McGonagall that he wanted to see the country again, and that was half true, but he was also looking into his options if his request at Hogwarts was denied. Shutting the window, he glanced once more over the grounds, before going back to bed.
A house elf woke him at seven that morning. A large breakfast tray with a note at the top of it was passed to him with a smile and a bow. He thanked the elf and opened the note.
Neville,
I thought you might like a private breakfast, away from the noise of the Great Hall. If you would please go down to the greenhouses at eight thirty, Professor Sprout will be waiting for you. She will show you what you will be doing for your apprenticeship. Have a pleasant day,
M. McGonagall
He ate his breakfast quickly, and jumped into a shower. He dressed in a simple ensemble of trousers and a shirt. Throwing on a robe, he picked up the Daily Prophet and scanned it as he walked through the now quiet halls of the school. As he passed classroom after classroom, he remembered how inept he had been at his studies. In the seven, well technically eight, years that he'd studied here, he never thought that he would make it; let alone come back. By the time he made it down to the greenhouses, his excitement had doubled. He was back where he belonged.
"Neville!" Sprout yelled from the doorway of greenhouse three.
"Professor," Neville grinned, "Thank you."
"Not at all," Sprout smiled, "Come in now, I'll show you all of your…charges."
They walked through the newly built greenhouse and Neville listened intently as Sprout detailed the work he would be doing that week. He would be busy, working to repot, prune, and recover the plants. A few of them had been slightly damaged by the night's frost and the falling autumn temperatures. After this brief but thorough instruction, Neville donned an apron and got to work.
