Thanks to BCgurlie, fanfiction1990, peacerevolution, arty, mrsmorgan, onyx obsidian, sparky and stargirlpotter for reviewing the last chapter, this update is for you, and a bit of fluff I think. If you've read this far, please drop me a comment and tell me what you think. Do you imagine adult professor Longbottom like this? Or have I made him too nice or too dorky? All comments and suggestions appreciated. Also I'm writing some jamione and sirmione stories too if that's more up your alley~~cheers~~siriusbarks
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Chapter 6
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He stared at the red Remembrall in shock and re-read the red text written there several times to be sure, because he didn't want to believe his eyes.
How could he have forgotten that?
"Oh bollocks bollocks bollocks," he swore aloud and he pressed his fingers to his mouth, nearly dropping the Remembrall.
"Professor?"
Neville twisted around in his desk to see that one of his students had trickled in and heard him swear.
"Sorry, Timmy." He quickly pocketed the Remembrall away. "Your professor seems to be having an off-day."
"Tough day at work?" little Timmy asked, as if he were an old man.
"No, the missus. I forgot our anniversary." Bugger it. "Two years going on strong, since we married."
"You had better make it up to her."
"What do you suggest I do?"
Timmy shrugged. "You're always telling us flowers are the nicest."
"Nice choice." He stared at the little boy, wondering why he was so wise and seemingly knowledgeable and mature for an 11 year old. "You have good taste in plants."
Timmy shrugged and put down his satchel of books on his desk near the front. "You are our professor."
Neville smirked. "Of course, and I taught you well. Still, I'm not sure flowers will make it up to her." He bit nervously at his thumb and paced the floor in front of the chalk board, wondering how Hermione was going to take it that he'd forgotten their anniversary.
"You always said flowers are the most important ingredients in saying 'I love you' and you can say anything with flowers because each flower means a different thing," Timmy informed him, as if reciting an essay for points.
"Did I?" Neville raised his heavy black brows.
Timmy nodded.
"Merlin," Neville told himself. "I must be getting sentimental."
Timmy, who was very much like Neville when he was 11 years old, sighed and opened his herbology textbook to the day's lesson.
"I want to be just like you when I grow up," Timmy said cheerfully, with a toothy wide-gaped smile. "And teach herbology and have a wife to give flowers to and live in a manor."
"Not too much like me, I hope." Neville muttered and got up to scribble down some notes on the chalkboard for today's lesson on Abyssinian flowers. He glanced back over his shoulder at Timmy, out of curiosity. "What do they say about my Manor?"
"That you live like Batman in it and go to work by day as Professor Longbottom and at night work as an auror and fight crime like Batman"
Neville chuckled. "Now that will amuse her." He shook his head and tried not to giggle too much at the idea. "Longbottom Manor is just that a manor, I inherited it. It's not some secret lair for me to fight crime. It's actually just a really old house...and am sorta stuck with it, being the last," er sane and uninjured, "Longbottom."
"So you don't actually fight Death Eaters?" Timmy asked with clear disappointment.
Neville suddenly felt very guilty as he stared at the little boy, who looked up to him, and who was clearly muggleborn. He stopped writing on the chalkboard and sat down on his desk.
"Timmy..." he said evasively. "If I still actually worked for the Aurors, I couldn't tell you that, could I?" He threw the chalk in his hands. "It's classified."
Timmy's face beamed as he smiled from ear to ear. "So you do work for them?"
"I might." Neville chuckled again.
Not that Neville really couldn't tell him that. It really was classified. And a Hogwarts professor, if he was an auror by night, wasn't supposed to confide all his secrets to a first year muggleborn student...though if anyone could get it out of him, it was probably Timmy. Some days he felt like Timmy was his therapist. Because the boy always arrived early for class and then got him to talk about anything. Neville really needed to stop having a loose tongue.
He went back to writing on the board and the boy continued to pester him with questions. It was sort of annoying, but given that it distracted him from the impending issue of his forgotten anniversary, he sort of appreciated the banter.
"What about your manor? Is it true you have a chandelier in there that you like to swing from?"
"What?" Neville felt his face fold into a deep frown. Because he'd rather ridiculous rumours about himself, but swinging from a chandelier just took the cake. Did people think he and Hermione lived like Jane and Tarzan in private? "Why on earth would I swing from a chandelier?" Though it was true that Longbottom Manor had a very old and pretentious chandelier, it wasn't something he'd ever considered swinging from...given his weight and the antiquity of the thing, the rusty thing would probably just break and break his neck too.
"Well, sir, it's known that you have a conservatory filled with jungle vines and plants..and well you are athletic..."
Neville stared incredulously at the student. He wasn't sure if this was a compliment or insult, to be compared to Tarzan. Although he had been called a 'beefcake' and other odd terms by his female colleagues and random admirers who knew he was the man who killed Voldemort's snake.
"...so," Timmy continued. "Some of the kids in Ravenclaw said that you swung like Tarzan from them."
"Timmy?"
"Yes?"
"Don't believe everything Ravenclaws tell you. They're not as smart as they think they are."
And he should know, his wife was a Gryffindor and just about the smartest person he knew around anywhere. Neville stretched and scratched tiredly at his neck; he had a bunch of sore muscles there and it wasn't from swinging from chandeliers, but other types of workouts. And gardening. Gardening was a surprisingly athletic activity, especially with carrying bags of dirt and wheelbarrows.
"Sorry, sir." Timmy's face split into a grin.
"Nevermind. You know, I think I've got an idea of how to impress Hermione now," he told the boy with a chuckle.
The class began to fill out with his students until the lesson began and Neville cheerfully lectured his students on the dangers of swimming in the Nile if you were a botanist and the many magical properties of Egyptian water plants, like the Firebreathing Lotus.
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Near the end of class, he edged near Timmy's desk again. "Now, Timmy. Can you do me a favour?" the boy nodded eagerly. "As soon as class is over I have to run out of here and get my wife a present and reservations..something for our anniversary, before she rings my neck. D'you think you could help clean up after your classmates so we can all get out of here sooner?"
"Consider it done."
Neville smiled widely at the boy and ruffled his hair. If he ever had a son one day, he hoped he'd be a bit like Timmy. If a bit stronger and less nerdier...because he didn't want his son being bullied. Although he had also started out as a pudgy and then skinny boy too, before he finally filled out and now he was pure muscles. Still the first 14 years where he was a pudger or beanpole weren't that fun. Well, at least he could be around for Timmy and make sure no professor like Snape or other students bullied him while he was in his class.
Now he just had be there for Hermione and make sure his Jane didn't ring this Tarzan's neck.
He dashed out of class as soon as the bell rang and dived towards the Floo.
"Diagon Alley," he said as he threw a handful of the Floo powder into the fireplace.
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authors note: Well Neville, jeez, you forgot your own second anniversary! And what is his idea for making it up to Hermione? Swinging like Tarzan from a chandelier? Giving her a rare firebreathing Lotus plant?
Give me your suggestions or any ideas of what you want to see happen in the next chapter
thanks for reading and peace out.
