Written for Hogwarts Challenges & Assignments - Term 14, Assignment 9 - Archaeology, Task #7: Alt. Write about someone interacting with an animal.

Note: this is a farm!AU. I tried my best to get the milking process right but I can't speak to how accurate everything else is. :P

Before the Dawn

It was still dark outside when Neville awoke and slipped out of bed. He hated to leave the warmth of the covers and the snug embrace of his wife Hannah, but owning a farm meant that mornings were spent milking cows.

It was always eerily quiet on the farm in the early hours when the sun was still unrisen and all the animals were still asleep. Neville moved quietly to the barn where the cows were kept and ducked into the first stall. He brought a little wooden stool, a metal pail, and several wash rags—three dry, one soaked with warm water—with him, and he placed them carefully in the corner before waking up the creature on the ground.

Before long, Gertrude had climbed to her feet, her udder swollen with milk. Neville chuckled and placed the bucket underneath her. "Ready, old girl?"

There were machines that made milking go so much more quickly, but Neville preferred to do it by hand. His neighbours scoffed at his old-fashioned methods, but he didn't care. It gave him time to think, to appreciate the quiet. As an added bonus, it made him feel closer to the animals, too.

Neville used the warm rag to gently clean the dirt and grass from Getrude's udder. She stood still without him needing to hold her in place, but he stroked her side and praised her for being so well-mannered anyway.

After he cleaned and dried the udder, it was time to draw out the milk. He quickly fell into a rhythm squeezing the milk into the bucket—all the while talking to Getrude about his plans for the day in a low, calming voice—and before long, it was full.

"Thanks, old girl," he said, giving her another pat as he exited her stall. He had to make two trips to the next stall over, first with the bucket and then with his stool and rags.

Half an hour later, the other two cows had been milked as well, and Neville was beginning to feel hungry. He hoisted the pail into the air, grunting slightly at the weight of it, and headed back to the farmhouse for breakfast. Before he stepped inside, however, he poured the milk into several of the clean, empty jugs that Hannah had neatly lined up on the back porch. They would keep some of the raw milk for themselves, but some would be sent off to be pasteurized and sold locally.

When he entered, Hannah smiled at him from her spot by the stove, and he took a moment to savor the smell of sausage cooking. The scent made his stomach rumble loudly.

"Morning, Nev." Hannah wiped her hands on her bright, lemon yellow apron. "I take it you're hungry?"

"Starving," Neville chuckled. He looked around at the veritable feast that Hannah had prepared: sausage, fried eggs, bacon, baked beans, and hash browns. "Wow, Han, this looks amazing. You've outdone yourself."

He knew that he was lucky to have a wife who enjoyed cooking for him, and he made sure to compliment her on it whenever he could. Hannah, for her part, always blushed and said it was nothing, and today was no different. Neville caught a glimpse of a pleased smile on her face, however, before she turned away to pile food onto a plate.

He settled into a chair at the wooden table. There was already a mug of coffee waiting for him, and he took a sip of it as Hannah placed his meal in front of him.

"Thank you." He took her hands in his and gave them a squeeze. "Make sure to help yourself to some, too, before it gets cold."

"I will, but go ahead and dig in." Hannah leaned over and kissed his forehead. "You've earned it, love."

Despite her encouragement to go ahead and eat, Neville waited until she had served herself and sat down before attacking his food. As usual, everything was as tasty as it looked, and by the time he had finished every last crumb, he was quite full.

"Well, that was delicious," he declared, setting down his fork. "Want any help cleaning up?"

Hannah waved a hand at him. "I'll handle it. You go on and feed the animals."

"Alright, if you're sure..." Neville bit his lip. His wife always refused his help with cleanup, too, but that never stopped him from worrying that she resented him for doing it all herself.

"I'm sure. Go!" She chased him out of the kitchen with a dishrag, and he could hear her laughing as he made his escape.

It was growing light out. Brilliant shades of orange and pink bled into the sky, and a lone rooster's cry pierced the air.

Neville smiled. A new day was dawning and it looked to be a good one.

WC: 804