I do not own the characters or Harry Potter.
All credit to JK Rowling.
"Gran it's not true!" Neville exclaimed as Augusta Longbottom brandished a slanderous newspaper headline at him furiously, angry tears trembling in her eyes.
"I'm so sorr-" Neville began, but Augusta cut him off with a raise of her hand.
"What would your parents say?" Augusta whispered furiously.
Neville felt as though he'd been punched in the stomach and he took an unsteady step back. Then he remembered. He wasn't that shy, chubby, scared little boy anymore. He was a man, dammit. And he didn't have to take this anymore - his gran threw his damaged parents in his face every chance she got. She was always so disappointed that Neville wasn't Frank. He wasn't a brilliant badass Auror. He was a gardener - a Herbology professor for crying out loud.
"What would they say?" Neville repeated, his voice cold. "They wouldn't say anything. Not one word. They don't know me. Neither do you if you think anything that Skeeter woman writes is even remotely true." His quiet voice trembled with rage and the deep hurt of years of bearing the brunt of years of failing his Gran's lofty expectations. Suddenly Neville was done. Finished with it all. He was sick of being told he wasn't his father, that he was a disappointment and a disgrace to the family name. Apparently one moment of glory ten years ago, during which he had decapitated Voldemort's snake was not enough to make up for years of failing to live up to Frank Longbottom. He was done trying to be his dad. Done trying to emulate Harry Potter. Done trying to assume the mantel of wizards braver and more worthy of the Longbottom name than him. From now on, he was going to only do what brought him joy after years of pain and projected disappointment: herbology. If Augusta had a problem with it, she could sit in that hospital alone, stewing in her disappointment of him for as long as she liked...