Disclaimer: JKR and Scholastic Books are making all the money off Harry
Potter and his friends. I don't make any money from this. It's just for
fun.
Chapter 4
Moments of Rapture, Moments of Pain "What brings joy to the heart is not so much the friend's gift as the friend's love." - St. Alfred of Rievaulx
"Tell me about Katherine, Neville. Is she really Percy's daughter?"
Neville sat beside the redhead huddled beside the tree by the millpond. It had been easy to guess she would try to hide from the view of the house without being too far away. He picked up a stone and threw it as far as he could into the middle. A tiny water sprite rose from the ripples and began to screech at him before going beneath again when the ripples ceased.
"Penelope followed Percy to the Ministry of Magic, working as an assistant to an assistant to someone who no one remembers anymore. She and Percy had a 'fling', as your mum likes to call it, and Katherine was born. When Percy went." he paused, the proper wording not coming to him as he wrinkled his nose in thought, "bad, Penelope ran to her cousin in the country. After the war, she came out from hiding and came to your parents. She couldn't find a job that would support the two of them so they live here and Molly takes care of Katherine while Penelope waits tables. It's not glamorous and I've offered to help her find a better job many times but she's got her pride. Knowing that Percy hurt so many, she likes to keep a low profile. We're hoping his legacy doesn't haunt Katherine when she goes to school in a few years." He sighed and picked up another rock but thought better of throwing it into the water. "Kids can be cruel."
Without thinking, Ginny put her arms around Neville's shoulders and gave him a squeeze. "Were they so very awful to you?"
He sighed again but it was happier. "No, not really. I was clumsy and awkward and forever doing the wrong thing. Luckily, I found a group of friends that didn't care so much that I wasn't handsome or popular or gifted. Hermione saved me more times then I can count in Potions."
"She saved me a couple times, too. As much as I miss Snape, the new Potions master must be a vast improvement. Why are you laughing?"
"I don't know if improvement is the right word. Professor Unruh is much more familiar with hygiene but I think the poor students work harder for a good word from him then we ever did from Snape."
"Oh, the poor dears. Will Hogwarts ever have a loveable Potions master?"
"I don't think it's possible. Dumbledore told me once that most wizards who are masters in that area have a tendency to be, well, grumpy."
The memories that popped up when she thought of Snape's grumpiness were painless and it made her smile until she remembered the one question she had been wanting to ask Neville.
"I don't want to ruin this beautiful day but will you answer one question for me? How were you able to kill Voldemort? The prophecy was about Harry and if Voldemort killed him, then he should have won. I don't understand, I guess.." She pulled away slightly to watch his face as he talked.
"I've thought about that same question for years. I haunted me for months after so I went to Dumbledore. I had forgotten something important." He wasn't looking her in the eye now, choosing instead to stare blindly at the water. "A week before the final fight, I broke my wand. I was too embarrassed to tell anyone, thinking I could make do. That's why the wall fell on me. I couldn't stop it. Harry found out and told me to take his wand until I found another one."
"I never saw him without one, though. What was he using?"
"Moody had a few extras in his wooden chest. Instead of having me take it, Moody insisted Harry use it. I thought it was odd at the time but that had been the plan all along. Dumbledore and Moody knew it would come down to a fight between Harry and Voldemort. If Voldemort was able to strike first then Harry wouldn't have a chance to make the kill. There was the tiniest of chances the prophecy was about me as well as Harry. Dumbledore decided it was enough of a chance to take."
"So Dumbledore knew Harry was going to be a sacrifice?"
"Yes. But he's not the only one who was aware of the risks. Harry knew, too."
"He never expected to come out of the battle alive." Surprisingly, Ginny didn't feel the horror she felt this revelation deserved. A calming peace flooded her soul. That's why you wouldn't let me wear the ring on my left hand. You knew we would never have a chance to be together but you still wanted to leave me with a piece of you. I'm not a widow. Not really. I would have thought this kind of information would make me feel bad but I don't. I feel different. I feel free. I miss you, Harry. I love you but . . . I need to be free of this weight for a while.
They were both lost in thought for the few minutes it took the sun to begin to sink on the horizon. Neville put his arm around her waist and they leaned against each other, both enjoying the beautiful colours in the sky.
"Make it all okay, Neville. Make it better," she whispered, pillowing her head in the hollow of his neck.
Shivering at her touch, Neville lifted his hand and snapped his fingers. "Done." At that moment, the sun's rays brightened in one last effort to continue the day.
For the first time in four years, Ginny felt the warmth of the sun on her face. Even as she smiled at the heat from the outside, she began to notice pricks of heat radiating on the inside. Every place she was touching Neville began to warm up and a new awareness of him filled her. Under her cheek, she could feel his heart beat. It was as fast as her own galloping beat.
"I don't know if I can do this quickly."
He jumped, as if he had received a shock, but asked lightly, "Can't do what quickly?" Please, oh please, don't ask me to stop touching you because I don't think I can. Not now. Not after you've finally let me get this close.
"You. Me. This."
"Is it too soon to kiss you?"
A moment passed before she nodded her head.
"Oh."
She looked up at his downcast face and replayed the last couple seconds of conversation. "No, I mean, yes. It's fine. Kiss me, please." Her face reddened yet again.
He picked up her hand resting on his knee, and, turning the palm over, placed a small kiss in the middle. With a speed he hoped was slow enough to keep her from spooking, he curled the hand up into a fist and sat it back down.
"What was that?" she asked indignantly, raising her hand up to look at it with some confusion.
Keeping his voice bland, he answered, "A kiss. Is that not what you wanted?"
"No, I prefer my kisses on lips. Like this." Without actually thinking about what she was doing, Ginny leaned up and kissed Neville deeply.
Pulling back from the intensity of the kiss, Neville whistled. "You're right. That is definitely better than my version of a kiss."
"It had some merits," she admitted coyly.
"Like what?"
"The fact that I can't feel my hand enough to uncurl it is enough proof for me." She held up her hand, still clutched in a fist.
"Well, let me make that better." Uncurling each finger, he kissed the tip until the hand opened again. "Does that work for you."
"I still can't feel my hand."
"Sorry," he breathed, licking his lips as he tried to get feeling make in that area. "Guess I'm better at this then I thought I was."
"I still need the practice. Give me another shot."
"Before you do, can I ask one favour of you?"
"Am I going to like this favour?"
Neville smiled at her as he took a moment to rethink his idea. It had seemed like a good idea when he first thought of it but now he wasn't so sure. There was a tiny part of his heart that needed this to happen. A tiny part still remembering the wounded boy with two left feet and poor wand skills. "I just want you to say mine name before you kiss me." He held his breath waiting for her reply, hoping she didn't see his real reason for this request.
"Neville. How did that sound?"
He let out the breath and smiled again. "Wonderful. Everything you say is wonderful."
Ginny smiled her old, cheeky grin at him. "You're full of it, you know that? But seriously, Neville," she emphasised the name, "what is this about? Scared that I've forgotten who you are among all these Weasley's?"
"It's not that. I just got worried. All of a sudden, you're paying attention to me."
"Do you not like me paying attention to you?" Ginny questioned him. She slid a finger down his cheek but straightened and pulled away as she saw his expression. "Don't you dare think that."
"I can't help it. It's haunted me for years."
"What? That I would mistake you for my murdered boyfriend? For your information, you look nothing like him. Not really. You have dark hair. So do a lot of people. I don't walk the streets of London thinking every ebony-haired guy is Harry coming back for me." Ginny surged to her feet. "You want me to come to grips with what went on in the past. When you come to grips with the present, let me know."
She would have given anything to be able to Apparate out of the area but she was forced to stomp off in a huff. Sometimes it felt good to be a woman, to be able to throw a fit and get good and mad. This surge of feminine power drove her back into the house without a second thought that she might not belong there anymore.
"Ginny? Where's Neville?" Hermione stepped from the front room, balancing the familiar tea service on the worn silver platter.
"Probably hiding his head in the sand. Is there something I can help you with, 'Mione?"
The older woman smiled at the nickname. "I haven't heard that name in years. Most of the time, it's Mum or Dr. H. Sometimes Ron calls me Honey but that's only when he wants, uh, well," Hermione trailed off, her face flushed as she realized once again that she was talking to her husband's sister. "Sorry, Ginny. Too much information. Why don't you go into the front room and I'll take this in to be washed up."
Reluctantly, Ginny turned into the room and faced her family once again. The children had all been scattered to their respective play areas and the adults were enjoying each other's company. To their credit, no one looked up as she entered the room and the conversations all kept flowing. She gratefully took the empty seat on the coach next to Ron. Hermione had obviously just vacated it but Ginny needed to be close to someone. This grand experiment of Neville's had only made her realize she did indeed miss her family.
Taking her hand and stroking it gently, Ron kept talking to Fred about the newest professor at Hogwarts. It seemed to be a popular conversation. Ginny could hear that the other discussions were on the same topic. No one seemed to like the wizard much, even her father. He had once been the kind of person who would give anyone one chance.
Not wanting to get involved in the conversations but happy to be around her family, Ginny soon dozed with her head against the back of the couch. I should go home soon. It's going to be late before I get back as it is.
She came back to consciousness just in time to hear her mother whisper, "Don't bother her, Arthur. It's too late to try to get her back to London now. Cover her with the afghan and we'll let her sleep."
"Mummy?" she breathed, wanting to hug her mother and breathe in the scent that was original to her.
"Sleep, little one. Mummy and Daddy will be here tomorrow when you wake up."
"Don't let me leave before I say goodbye to the boys." She fell back asleep before she finished the sentence and never knew her mother only heard the first part of what she said.
"No, sweetest. Mummy won't let you leave ever again."
***
"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" Neville threw every pillow off the couch against the far wall. He had since run Kippie out of the room in terror, as nothing he could do would calm his agitated master. "You had to get scared, didn't you? You had to make her think you didn't trust her feelings when it was your own you couldn't handle. Idiot! Worthless coward! Unilaterally brainless fop!"
"Neville Longbottom! Come out into this hallway right this minute!"
He had awakened his Grandmother in the hallway and there would be a steep price to pay. Reluctantly, he picked his way through the piles of debris and strode determinedly down to the portrait.
"Why are you screaming at the top of your lungs at this time of the night? No, don't look at your feet. Hold your head up, boy. You're a Longbottom. We don't hang our head." The painting portrayed a regal grey-haired matriarch dressed in her signature ugly green gown, sitting on the same tall-backed chair that had since been placed under the picture. Neville particularly despised this piece of furniture after he had spent most of his fifteenth summer sitting very upright and uncomfortable in it. It was his very unjust punishment for setting his bedroom curtains on fire. "Kippie tells me you've spent most of the last month in London. I demand an accounting of your time."
"It was for business, Gran. Nothing illegal or unseemly."
"Of course it's not illegal. No Longbottom has ever been accused of doing anything illegal."
She continued on her tirade as Neville studied her. He could see where his weak chin and rather pronounced front teeth came from. Luckily for him, his mother had given him her sterling blue eyes and dark hair.
Without realizing he was speaking, he blurted out, "I'm in love with Ginny Weasley. I plan on bringing her to live in this house. I hope you don't yell at her like this."
"Of all the impertinence! A Longbottom never has to raise their voice to make a point," she replied rather loudly. Two red spots of anger now graced her round cheeks but Neville didn't seem to care. Saying his feelings out loud and invigorated him in a strange way to stand up to his relatives.
Surrounded on all sides by Longbottoms from generations back, Neville interrupted his grandmother again, "No, Gran. Sometimes they do raise their voice. Sometimes they do say silly things. Sometimes they do fall in love. I have been in love with Ginny for the last four years. Maybe even longer. If I can somehow make up for this last blunder of mine and convince her I'm not such a big ninny, I intend to ask her to marry me someday."
The portraits were coming alive with activity now. On the opposite wall, Great-Great-Uncle Xavier blew his nose and wiped at his streaming eyes with a rather large handkerchief while Gertrude, a spinster from the early Seventeenth Century hanging above the library door since this house had been completed, danced a rather naughty little jig. There were loud hoots and hollers from a rowdy group of Longbottom horsemen at one end of the hall while a group of young ladies depicted in an orchard were heard to be discussing just what the bride should wear on the wedding day - and night.
"That is quite enough from all of you," the matriarch stormed, her voice several octaves above her normal speaking voice. "No grandson of mine would dare think of bringing a girl here to the Longbottom ancestral home without first bringing her here for my approval." Several other portraits applauded.
Neville stood very straight and stared for several seconds at the large painting, his gaze as haughty as his grandmother's. "Let me make one thing painfully clear to all of you. I am the only one here in the hallway not restricted to a canvas and four slats of wood. This is my house now and I am the master of the Longbottom estate. I have the power to take any portrait down I wish and don't think I will at any moment be swayed from my purpose. From this moment on, I refuse to live in one room of this house. Once upon a time there was love and laughter here and I wish it to be so again. You will behave or you will be moved."
Not waiting for any reactions, he walked deliberately into the nearest room and flung open the heavy drapery. This gesture would have made a much more dramatic statement if there had been any daylight to stream through the uncovered glass. What little moonlight there was fell on the tall stacks of musty books and ugly chairs. Falling into the nearest rickety antique, Neville put his head in his hands. He was suddenly very tired. This newest development was going to take some thought but the moonlight was clouding his thoughts with all the images of what he would rather be doing right now under the stars with a certain titan-haired vixen.
Chapter 4
Moments of Rapture, Moments of Pain "What brings joy to the heart is not so much the friend's gift as the friend's love." - St. Alfred of Rievaulx
"Tell me about Katherine, Neville. Is she really Percy's daughter?"
Neville sat beside the redhead huddled beside the tree by the millpond. It had been easy to guess she would try to hide from the view of the house without being too far away. He picked up a stone and threw it as far as he could into the middle. A tiny water sprite rose from the ripples and began to screech at him before going beneath again when the ripples ceased.
"Penelope followed Percy to the Ministry of Magic, working as an assistant to an assistant to someone who no one remembers anymore. She and Percy had a 'fling', as your mum likes to call it, and Katherine was born. When Percy went." he paused, the proper wording not coming to him as he wrinkled his nose in thought, "bad, Penelope ran to her cousin in the country. After the war, she came out from hiding and came to your parents. She couldn't find a job that would support the two of them so they live here and Molly takes care of Katherine while Penelope waits tables. It's not glamorous and I've offered to help her find a better job many times but she's got her pride. Knowing that Percy hurt so many, she likes to keep a low profile. We're hoping his legacy doesn't haunt Katherine when she goes to school in a few years." He sighed and picked up another rock but thought better of throwing it into the water. "Kids can be cruel."
Without thinking, Ginny put her arms around Neville's shoulders and gave him a squeeze. "Were they so very awful to you?"
He sighed again but it was happier. "No, not really. I was clumsy and awkward and forever doing the wrong thing. Luckily, I found a group of friends that didn't care so much that I wasn't handsome or popular or gifted. Hermione saved me more times then I can count in Potions."
"She saved me a couple times, too. As much as I miss Snape, the new Potions master must be a vast improvement. Why are you laughing?"
"I don't know if improvement is the right word. Professor Unruh is much more familiar with hygiene but I think the poor students work harder for a good word from him then we ever did from Snape."
"Oh, the poor dears. Will Hogwarts ever have a loveable Potions master?"
"I don't think it's possible. Dumbledore told me once that most wizards who are masters in that area have a tendency to be, well, grumpy."
The memories that popped up when she thought of Snape's grumpiness were painless and it made her smile until she remembered the one question she had been wanting to ask Neville.
"I don't want to ruin this beautiful day but will you answer one question for me? How were you able to kill Voldemort? The prophecy was about Harry and if Voldemort killed him, then he should have won. I don't understand, I guess.." She pulled away slightly to watch his face as he talked.
"I've thought about that same question for years. I haunted me for months after so I went to Dumbledore. I had forgotten something important." He wasn't looking her in the eye now, choosing instead to stare blindly at the water. "A week before the final fight, I broke my wand. I was too embarrassed to tell anyone, thinking I could make do. That's why the wall fell on me. I couldn't stop it. Harry found out and told me to take his wand until I found another one."
"I never saw him without one, though. What was he using?"
"Moody had a few extras in his wooden chest. Instead of having me take it, Moody insisted Harry use it. I thought it was odd at the time but that had been the plan all along. Dumbledore and Moody knew it would come down to a fight between Harry and Voldemort. If Voldemort was able to strike first then Harry wouldn't have a chance to make the kill. There was the tiniest of chances the prophecy was about me as well as Harry. Dumbledore decided it was enough of a chance to take."
"So Dumbledore knew Harry was going to be a sacrifice?"
"Yes. But he's not the only one who was aware of the risks. Harry knew, too."
"He never expected to come out of the battle alive." Surprisingly, Ginny didn't feel the horror she felt this revelation deserved. A calming peace flooded her soul. That's why you wouldn't let me wear the ring on my left hand. You knew we would never have a chance to be together but you still wanted to leave me with a piece of you. I'm not a widow. Not really. I would have thought this kind of information would make me feel bad but I don't. I feel different. I feel free. I miss you, Harry. I love you but . . . I need to be free of this weight for a while.
They were both lost in thought for the few minutes it took the sun to begin to sink on the horizon. Neville put his arm around her waist and they leaned against each other, both enjoying the beautiful colours in the sky.
"Make it all okay, Neville. Make it better," she whispered, pillowing her head in the hollow of his neck.
Shivering at her touch, Neville lifted his hand and snapped his fingers. "Done." At that moment, the sun's rays brightened in one last effort to continue the day.
For the first time in four years, Ginny felt the warmth of the sun on her face. Even as she smiled at the heat from the outside, she began to notice pricks of heat radiating on the inside. Every place she was touching Neville began to warm up and a new awareness of him filled her. Under her cheek, she could feel his heart beat. It was as fast as her own galloping beat.
"I don't know if I can do this quickly."
He jumped, as if he had received a shock, but asked lightly, "Can't do what quickly?" Please, oh please, don't ask me to stop touching you because I don't think I can. Not now. Not after you've finally let me get this close.
"You. Me. This."
"Is it too soon to kiss you?"
A moment passed before she nodded her head.
"Oh."
She looked up at his downcast face and replayed the last couple seconds of conversation. "No, I mean, yes. It's fine. Kiss me, please." Her face reddened yet again.
He picked up her hand resting on his knee, and, turning the palm over, placed a small kiss in the middle. With a speed he hoped was slow enough to keep her from spooking, he curled the hand up into a fist and sat it back down.
"What was that?" she asked indignantly, raising her hand up to look at it with some confusion.
Keeping his voice bland, he answered, "A kiss. Is that not what you wanted?"
"No, I prefer my kisses on lips. Like this." Without actually thinking about what she was doing, Ginny leaned up and kissed Neville deeply.
Pulling back from the intensity of the kiss, Neville whistled. "You're right. That is definitely better than my version of a kiss."
"It had some merits," she admitted coyly.
"Like what?"
"The fact that I can't feel my hand enough to uncurl it is enough proof for me." She held up her hand, still clutched in a fist.
"Well, let me make that better." Uncurling each finger, he kissed the tip until the hand opened again. "Does that work for you."
"I still can't feel my hand."
"Sorry," he breathed, licking his lips as he tried to get feeling make in that area. "Guess I'm better at this then I thought I was."
"I still need the practice. Give me another shot."
"Before you do, can I ask one favour of you?"
"Am I going to like this favour?"
Neville smiled at her as he took a moment to rethink his idea. It had seemed like a good idea when he first thought of it but now he wasn't so sure. There was a tiny part of his heart that needed this to happen. A tiny part still remembering the wounded boy with two left feet and poor wand skills. "I just want you to say mine name before you kiss me." He held his breath waiting for her reply, hoping she didn't see his real reason for this request.
"Neville. How did that sound?"
He let out the breath and smiled again. "Wonderful. Everything you say is wonderful."
Ginny smiled her old, cheeky grin at him. "You're full of it, you know that? But seriously, Neville," she emphasised the name, "what is this about? Scared that I've forgotten who you are among all these Weasley's?"
"It's not that. I just got worried. All of a sudden, you're paying attention to me."
"Do you not like me paying attention to you?" Ginny questioned him. She slid a finger down his cheek but straightened and pulled away as she saw his expression. "Don't you dare think that."
"I can't help it. It's haunted me for years."
"What? That I would mistake you for my murdered boyfriend? For your information, you look nothing like him. Not really. You have dark hair. So do a lot of people. I don't walk the streets of London thinking every ebony-haired guy is Harry coming back for me." Ginny surged to her feet. "You want me to come to grips with what went on in the past. When you come to grips with the present, let me know."
She would have given anything to be able to Apparate out of the area but she was forced to stomp off in a huff. Sometimes it felt good to be a woman, to be able to throw a fit and get good and mad. This surge of feminine power drove her back into the house without a second thought that she might not belong there anymore.
"Ginny? Where's Neville?" Hermione stepped from the front room, balancing the familiar tea service on the worn silver platter.
"Probably hiding his head in the sand. Is there something I can help you with, 'Mione?"
The older woman smiled at the nickname. "I haven't heard that name in years. Most of the time, it's Mum or Dr. H. Sometimes Ron calls me Honey but that's only when he wants, uh, well," Hermione trailed off, her face flushed as she realized once again that she was talking to her husband's sister. "Sorry, Ginny. Too much information. Why don't you go into the front room and I'll take this in to be washed up."
Reluctantly, Ginny turned into the room and faced her family once again. The children had all been scattered to their respective play areas and the adults were enjoying each other's company. To their credit, no one looked up as she entered the room and the conversations all kept flowing. She gratefully took the empty seat on the coach next to Ron. Hermione had obviously just vacated it but Ginny needed to be close to someone. This grand experiment of Neville's had only made her realize she did indeed miss her family.
Taking her hand and stroking it gently, Ron kept talking to Fred about the newest professor at Hogwarts. It seemed to be a popular conversation. Ginny could hear that the other discussions were on the same topic. No one seemed to like the wizard much, even her father. He had once been the kind of person who would give anyone one chance.
Not wanting to get involved in the conversations but happy to be around her family, Ginny soon dozed with her head against the back of the couch. I should go home soon. It's going to be late before I get back as it is.
She came back to consciousness just in time to hear her mother whisper, "Don't bother her, Arthur. It's too late to try to get her back to London now. Cover her with the afghan and we'll let her sleep."
"Mummy?" she breathed, wanting to hug her mother and breathe in the scent that was original to her.
"Sleep, little one. Mummy and Daddy will be here tomorrow when you wake up."
"Don't let me leave before I say goodbye to the boys." She fell back asleep before she finished the sentence and never knew her mother only heard the first part of what she said.
"No, sweetest. Mummy won't let you leave ever again."
***
"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" Neville threw every pillow off the couch against the far wall. He had since run Kippie out of the room in terror, as nothing he could do would calm his agitated master. "You had to get scared, didn't you? You had to make her think you didn't trust her feelings when it was your own you couldn't handle. Idiot! Worthless coward! Unilaterally brainless fop!"
"Neville Longbottom! Come out into this hallway right this minute!"
He had awakened his Grandmother in the hallway and there would be a steep price to pay. Reluctantly, he picked his way through the piles of debris and strode determinedly down to the portrait.
"Why are you screaming at the top of your lungs at this time of the night? No, don't look at your feet. Hold your head up, boy. You're a Longbottom. We don't hang our head." The painting portrayed a regal grey-haired matriarch dressed in her signature ugly green gown, sitting on the same tall-backed chair that had since been placed under the picture. Neville particularly despised this piece of furniture after he had spent most of his fifteenth summer sitting very upright and uncomfortable in it. It was his very unjust punishment for setting his bedroom curtains on fire. "Kippie tells me you've spent most of the last month in London. I demand an accounting of your time."
"It was for business, Gran. Nothing illegal or unseemly."
"Of course it's not illegal. No Longbottom has ever been accused of doing anything illegal."
She continued on her tirade as Neville studied her. He could see where his weak chin and rather pronounced front teeth came from. Luckily for him, his mother had given him her sterling blue eyes and dark hair.
Without realizing he was speaking, he blurted out, "I'm in love with Ginny Weasley. I plan on bringing her to live in this house. I hope you don't yell at her like this."
"Of all the impertinence! A Longbottom never has to raise their voice to make a point," she replied rather loudly. Two red spots of anger now graced her round cheeks but Neville didn't seem to care. Saying his feelings out loud and invigorated him in a strange way to stand up to his relatives.
Surrounded on all sides by Longbottoms from generations back, Neville interrupted his grandmother again, "No, Gran. Sometimes they do raise their voice. Sometimes they do say silly things. Sometimes they do fall in love. I have been in love with Ginny for the last four years. Maybe even longer. If I can somehow make up for this last blunder of mine and convince her I'm not such a big ninny, I intend to ask her to marry me someday."
The portraits were coming alive with activity now. On the opposite wall, Great-Great-Uncle Xavier blew his nose and wiped at his streaming eyes with a rather large handkerchief while Gertrude, a spinster from the early Seventeenth Century hanging above the library door since this house had been completed, danced a rather naughty little jig. There were loud hoots and hollers from a rowdy group of Longbottom horsemen at one end of the hall while a group of young ladies depicted in an orchard were heard to be discussing just what the bride should wear on the wedding day - and night.
"That is quite enough from all of you," the matriarch stormed, her voice several octaves above her normal speaking voice. "No grandson of mine would dare think of bringing a girl here to the Longbottom ancestral home without first bringing her here for my approval." Several other portraits applauded.
Neville stood very straight and stared for several seconds at the large painting, his gaze as haughty as his grandmother's. "Let me make one thing painfully clear to all of you. I am the only one here in the hallway not restricted to a canvas and four slats of wood. This is my house now and I am the master of the Longbottom estate. I have the power to take any portrait down I wish and don't think I will at any moment be swayed from my purpose. From this moment on, I refuse to live in one room of this house. Once upon a time there was love and laughter here and I wish it to be so again. You will behave or you will be moved."
Not waiting for any reactions, he walked deliberately into the nearest room and flung open the heavy drapery. This gesture would have made a much more dramatic statement if there had been any daylight to stream through the uncovered glass. What little moonlight there was fell on the tall stacks of musty books and ugly chairs. Falling into the nearest rickety antique, Neville put his head in his hands. He was suddenly very tired. This newest development was going to take some thought but the moonlight was clouding his thoughts with all the images of what he would rather be doing right now under the stars with a certain titan-haired vixen.