Best Laid Plans
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Pride and Prejudice. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.
Part One: The Defence Association
Chapter Eight:
Lockvale Park is an estate that features prominently in Helena's childhood memories. SHe's known Neville Longbottom her entire life, has spent countless hours roaming the gardens and halls and rooms of Lockvale alongside him, and it is almost as familiar to her as Blackthorn Park, or Peverell, or Linfred Castle.
Having said that, it has never felt like home. It's too cold, too impersonal, and she's not even sure the absence of the Dowager Countess Augusta Longbottom's overbearing influence would make much of a difference in that regard.
"How have you been?" She asks Neville. He looks drawn, haggard from sleepless nights and the demons awaiting him in his dreams, and Helena has no desire to start the conversation she knows she needs to. Frankly, her friend doesn't look as though he can bear it.
"Getting by," Neville shrugs, listless.
"Have you been gardening?"
"I have," he confirms, "There isn't much else I can do, is there? Gran won't let me leave the park; I'm practically a prisoner in my own home."
Helena grimaces, sympathetic. "I'm sorry. That must be terrible."
Neville shrugs, weary and resigned. He'S the Earl of Lockvale, but he's still a minor, and the Dowager Countess is his guardian. As such, there's not much he can do until he reaches his age of majority.
"What about you?" Neville wonders, "How have your holidays been?"
"Not great, but I've been keeping busy."
"I heard you're moving your parents from St Mungo's?"
Helena nods her confirmation. As Sirius had warned her, she has spent the last few days up to her armpits in interviews, and the experience has been enlightening. There are more stages to the hiring process - background checks, determining whether or not their preferred interviewees can work together, whether or not her parents can tolerate them, contract negotiations, so on and so on - and it's all rather full on. It's important though - not to mention it gets her out of Grimmauld Place - and Helena can't figure out if she appreciates the experience or not.
"I hope it all goes well, Hallie."
Helena smiles, tired. "Thanks."
Neville smiles in turn, and they both spend a few moments sipping tea, picking at teacakes, studying the plants around them. Neville's set them up in the solarium, the plants predictably, expertly tended to, and despite Helena's thoughts regarding the house in general, the solarium is utterly lovely.
Neville breaks the silence. "You picked a good day to visit."
"Why's that?"
"Gran's out all day, so you won't have to hear all about her hopes for an understanding between you and I. Again."
"Lucky me."
Neville huffs a laugh.
"How bad is it?"
"It's pretty bad," Neville grimaces, "With Voldemort back, she wants the line secured. Just in case."
It's a polite way of saying the Dowager Countess wants to see Neville married promptly, and with a child of his own. Neville's high on Voldemort's list of enemies, his life is constantly at risk, and a child would at least ensure the Ancient and Noble House of Lockvale would continue in the event of Neville's untimely death.
Frankly, it's morbid to consider, but not really a surprise. The Dowager Countess is ambitious, but she's also a pragmatist, and Voldemort has already decimated their population once. The Dowager Countess herself had lost her son and daughter, their spouses, and two grandchildren to Voldemort, and Neville is the only one left able to ensure the Lockvale line continues.
In that vein, he might not have a choice.
Realistically, Helena probably doesn't either. At the moment, she's safe, a powerful, traditionally raised scion who has done nothing to earn Voldemort's ire, but as soon as she starts refusing marriage offers from the Death Eater faction, all bets are off.
She tries not to think about it.
"You're fifteen."
Neville shrugs. "You know as well as I do people have gotten married even younger than that."
Helena grimaces, unable to disagree. "It seems… Extreme."
"It is," Neville confirms, "I'm not pleased about it. But what can I do? The Magic…"
Helena exhales through her nose, without words. The Family Magic is a blessing and a curse, a burden placed upon the Ancient and Noble Houses. It grants them a great deal of power, but with it, the responsibility to serve and protect. The Ancient and Noble Houses are anchors - tied to the magic, tied to the land, tied to their blood - and although a most have forgotten, the Ancient and Noble Houses never have and never will.
Presumably, Neville's family magic is as insistent about continuing and securing the line as Helena's.
"So you want me to marry you?"
It would be a powerful union, the merger of two Ancient and Noble Houses, and it would be easy. Convenient. Practical, given the circumstances.
The very thought fills Helena with dread. She loves Neville, would gladly fight beside him - or for him - but she just… She can't.
Neville frowns, baffled. "Where on Earth did you get that idea?"
Helena blinks, nonplused. "The presents you gave me?"
"Presents? I only got you some music."
Helena shakes her head, and produces the gifts from her bag. The beautiful, delicate scarf, the music books, the box of luxury chocolates, the camera and all its odds and ends. They've all been chosen for a purpose - to show an ability to provide her with the finest things, to indicate support in her interests, to encourage Helena to be her best self - and strictly speaking, its a lovely set of courtship gifts.
It's just not a courtship Helena wants.
She settles them on the table between them, and Neville stares, dumbstruck.
"If not you, then…"
"Then Gran," Neville concludes with a weary sigh. He palms his face, shakes his head, incredulous, and he laughs. It's not a happy sound. "Godric, Hallie, I am so sorry. I can't believe she's done this."
"It's fine."
And truly, Helena is relieved. She'd dreaded the prospect that Neville was attempting to start up a courtship, so the revelation that the Dowager Countess is at fault is welcome. Annoying, certainly, and obvious in retrospect, but no less a relief for all of that.
She would never want to break her friend's heart.
You should keep them," Neville decides, "They're a gift - if poorly meant - and it's the least you deserve for the trouble."
"Are you sure?"
Neville nods, and Helena doesn't protest. She packs them away instead, and they linger in an awkward, weighted silence. Neither of them know what to do - or say - and the reality that the Dowager Countess probably has many more shenanigans up her sleeve is one they are both highly cognisant of.
The woman is relentless.
The question is: What should they do about it?
"Perhaps Lord Blackthorn can speak with Gran?"
Helena sighs, resigned. SHe'd not wanted it to become a formal issue, but that was probably too much to hope for. "I think that would be for the best."
She only prays it doesn't come back to haunt them later.
