Author's Note: Sorry, sorry, sorry ... I know I said this would come much sooner, and ... well ... I'm just sorry. This one is horrendously long (for me), so maybe the wait was worth it ... hopefully. It's mostly a jaunt to lighten things up for a moment. (rubs hands together to prepare for movements onward)

8. Reintroductions

Luna arrived just as the sun rose over the tree-line on Neville's final day as residing patient of St. Mungo's. He was awake, leaning against the wall beside the window, gazing at what little part of London he could see. His hair stood on end and his pajamas were rumpled from sleep.

"I'm glad to see you have finally slept some," she said when she entered. Since the funeral, he'd been waking up after a few hours with night terrors, refusing to go back to sleep until his body finally gave way to exhaustion.

"The nurse gave me something to relax," he told her, without looking at her.

"When did you wake?"

He sighed heavily, knowing this was the new form of questions she'd been told to ask since he regained some of his memory. "Ten minutes ago."

"I'm not ..."

"I know; the questions are beginning to wear on me, though," he nodded. "I haven't caught up yet, but I remember yesterday, and the day before, and all week for that matter. It's everything else that's still gone."

She set several things down on the bed, freeing her hands before walking to his side. He glanced at her then, and wrapped an arm around her, greeting her with a kiss.

"I've brought you something," she told him.

He hugged her tightly before letting her go and walking to the bed.

"What?"

She unzipped his wardrobe bag.

"That isn't my suit."

"It's the one I had made the other day for you. It's been a long time since you wore your suit, Neville."

He looked at her almost playfully; breaking through the thick somberness that entombed every day since Harry's death.

"Are you saying that I've gotten fat?"

"No, no," she shook her head, eyes twinkling. "It was just time for a change."

Neville gave her a dubious look but went about changing anyway. He fumbled a little with the buttons, his fingers still not remembering their former coordination. She helped him with his tie before tackling his hair: a task that she'd always undertaken, much to his mock displeasure.

"Must you make it so wet?" he complained, forcing a convincing scowl as a droplet slid down his nose.

"Yes."

"What if you get my new clothes wet?"

"I'm a witch, Neville. The water won't get past the nape of your neck."

He rolled his eyes and muttered, "I'm a witch, Neville ... blah, blah, yada, y..." She tugged a lock of his hair just enough to make him finish with an, "...ow!" and stepped back. Luna smiled and he made a face at her.

"What are you beaming at?"

"My Neville's coming home today."

His face split into a lopsided grin and he hugged her hard, lifting her off her feet.

"Yes, I am."

"You ready?" she queried, her excitement creeping into her voice.

"More than ever."

He gave one last look around the room before turning his back on it and leaving. The mediwitch and young healer waved as the Longbottoms passed.

"Good day, Mr. Longbottom," she said.

He gave his thanks and began descending the stairs with his wife. At the front desk, the receptionist gave a sad smile and pushed a clipboard toward Neville. He signed his name under 'discharged' and gave it back to her.

"Mr. Potter longed for this day," the woman told him. "I wish he could have been here to see it."

"Nonsense, Dorothy," a voice over Neville's shoulder sighed. His breath hitched and he spun around to find a large portrait of his old friend. "Hullo, Neville."

He had to remind himself that it was not really him, but still answered, "Hiya, Harry."

"Shouldn't you be leaving?"

"Yeah," Neville smiled.

"Then go, get out of here," the portrait commanded, good-naturedly. "You've never let me down before, don't do it now."

"Thanks, Harry."

"Go. Home. Neville."

Luna kissed his cheek and he turned to her, "Let's go home, baby."

With a wave at the portrait and receptionist, he left St. Mungo's and stepped onto the sidewalk. A car with the Ministry of Magic's emblem on the door was waiting at the curb.

"That's odd," Luna muttered, hands on her hips.

"Is the Minister here?" Neville wondered aloud.

"Hiya, Dad," a voice called from Neville's left and his face dropped briefly as he turned. A young man stood before him, sandy-haired and round-cheeked, hazel eyes bright and sparkling. If it wasn't for the full three inches of height difference, he would have thought he was looking in a mirror – a de-aging one, at that.

"Gregory?"

The younger Longbottom smiled lopsidedly.

"There you are," Luna exclaimed, coming to Neville's side. "Where'd you run off to?"

Gregory rolled his eyes, "Favian was looking around some muggle shop and I was trying to get him out before you came back."

Luna narrowed her eyes determinedly, pushing past her eldest son.

"Which shop?"

"I'm here! I'm here!" another young man shouted breathlessly, rounding the bend, coming to a halt and doubling over beside Gregory.

"What's this?" his elder brother queried arrogantly. "Are you an auror or not?"

Neville's jaw went slack. Favian stood straight and puffed out his chest, but it quickly deflated as he continued to try to slow his breathing.

"Why, when I was just out of training, I was invincible," Gregory went on, folding his arms.

"Invincible, my left eye," Favian spat. "Evie could ha..."

Neville couldn't believe his ears and had to interrupt.

"Aurors?"

Favian seemed to only just notice his father.

"Hullo, Dad!" he greeted, still a bit breathless and hugging him quickly.

"My sons are aurors?" Neville blinked, looking at his wife.

"These two," she nodded, not altogether enthusiastically.

"Yeah, just us, Dad," Gregory assured him.

"I should hope you're the only ones old enough."

Luna clapped her hands suddenly, and jabbed her thumbs over her shoulder at the car. "Shall we be off?"

The boys grinned and bounded to the vehicle. Gregory went to the driver's seat and Favian held the door open for his parents. Neville eyed his wife suspiciously but found his second son's energy rather distracting. He chuckled as Favian slid in beside him.

"You look just how I remember ... aside from speaking a bit clearer and being quite a bit taller," Neville stated, studying his face.

"That's the Lovegood side," Gregory joked, glancing at his father in the rear-view mirror. Then, twirling his finger at the side of his head, he went on, "They never age ... just tend to go a bit mad early on."

"Nothing wrong with a little madness here and there, I always say," Favian remarked, leaning over his father to be seen in the mirror and crossing his eyes.

Neville watched them in amusement.

"You two used to despise one another."

"And that's why we work together," Gregory put-in.

"Things get done quicker and better when you make partners out of two fellows who are constantly trying to one-up the other," Favian affirmed.

The car rolled along through the city and Neville realized rather abruptly that a drive home would take hours.

"Why are we driving ourselves?" he asked from between his wife and second son.

"You can't apparate," Luna told him rather matter-of-factly.

"What about the Knight Bus?"

"Gregory is so much better behind the wheel than Ernie."

"But it's faster, innit?"

"Wait for it," Favian gestured toward the front seat. Neville put his eyes forward and left it for what it was.

"You see, Greggo enjoys driving like the muggles for awhile until ..."

"Oi!" the eldest boy shouted, hitting the breaks as a taxi cut him off. "Bloody plonker, nearly got me nose up his ar..."

"Gregory!" Luna reprimanded, looking out her window boredly.

"... bitrarily-minded backside, he did," the driver corrected gruffly. "Enough of this," he declared, depressing the lighter. There was a loud crack and, immediately, they were rumbling down a winding road cut through high hills.

"Oh, wow," Neville sighed, watching the hills roll by. For the first time since his 'recovery', he actually felt like he'd been away. "It's beautiful out here. It's just as I remember it."

"Yeah, nothing's going on in these parts. We keep to ourselves and the rest of the world tends to leave us alone. Most folks didn't even know Harry lived here, and if they did, they were kind enough to not publish it."

Gregory turned onto a winding drive, a wooden sign reading Longbottom Lane partially obscured by a flutterby bush, but Neville saw it just the same and chuckled. They slowed to a stop in front of the Longbottom home and Neville had a sense of longing to be within its halls once again.

"It feels like it's been an age ..." he mumbled when Favian let him out.

The others exchanged glances before Gregory located his key and made for the door. "You ready, Dad?"

A smile played at Neville's lips and he looked at Luna who quirked an eyebrow at him. Without warning, he slung her over his shoulder and climbed the few steps to the door. "Yup."

Gregory and Favian grinned as the first opened the door and let his parents inside.

Neville deeply inhaled the scents of home when he entered the living room. It was empty but obviously lived in; books cracked and left on tables and chairs and pictures lining the walls in various arrangements.

"Neville?" Luna asked from behind him. He turned.

"What? ... Luna? ... Oh," he said, setting her down. She straightened her blouse and took his hand, leading through the living room, down the long, cornered hallway and to the room at the very end.

"My study," he breathed when he entered. He immediately went to his desk and found a long wooden box. Neville looked to his wife.

"It's your wand."

He unclasped the box and opened it, drawing out his wand. Closing his fingers around it, he delighted in the energy it exuded. Giving it a slight wave, he acknowledged how right it felt in his hand as the blinds opened on the windows behind the desk.

"It's good to be home," he declared, going back to Luna and kissing her as Gregory and Favian knocked lightly on the open door. Their father narrowed his eyes at them over his wife's shoulder, but they entered anyway, placing themselves comfortably in two overstuffed armchairs.

Neville sighed heavily

"No, no," Gregory waved them off.

"Don't mind us," Favian agreed.

"Mum deserves a kiss."

"Or two."

"Can't argue with that," Neville shrugged, kissing her again. Luna giggled and pushed her husband away.

"I've got children waiting patiently and silently in their rooms waiting for to see you."

"Children?" Neville queried with a strange look.

The other three went rigid.

"Just joking," the man said. There was a collective exhale as his wife and two sons began breathing again. "Sorry. Bring them to me. I want my babies," he went on, beckoning with his hands.

"Not funny," Luna wagged a finger at him, leaving.

Neville shrugged and leant against his desk, looking between his two sons.

"So, uh ..." he began somewhat awkwardly. "Do you two enjoy your work?"

"Oh, yeah, we have a good time, actually," Favian chuckled, and Gregory agreed.

"There's a bit of a legacy of Longbottom around the Ministry. They're awaiting Ewan's application."

"Ewan?"

"You think you're stunned. Two aurors was about enough to give Mum a heart attack.

"I don't know what she'll do with three."

"Is he ...?"

"He's sure got the know-how," Favian commented.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Speak of the kneazle," said Gregory. "Come on in, Hughey Ewey."

A tousle-headed teen with brown hair peeked his head in.

"I hate that name," he scowled at his oldest brother as he stepped in fully. Happily, Neville found that this one hadn't outgrown him ... yet.

"Ewan."

The scowl turned into a wide smile when he finally say his father. He ran and threw his arms around the man who nearly toppled over with the force.

"Dad!" the boy shouted excitedly, leaning back to look at his father again. "I've just left Hogwarts. It's been great. Been thinkin' about going into training. What d'you reckon? I've been wanting to ask you for a long time, haven't told Mum yet. I knew you'd get better eventually. I love you, Dad." He hugged him again.

"Uh, well ... er ... Congratulations ... Glad to hear it ... Sounds fantastic ... Thanks ... and, I love you, too."

Ewan continued to grin, blue eyes sparkling.

"He's excitable," Favian whispered, hand beside his mouth as though this were a big secret. It wasn't.

"It's Dad, Fave," Ewan announced proudly, showing his father to his brother. "And I'm happy to see him in his right mind."

"I wasn't crazy, Ewan. Just lost."

"But you're not anymore," the boy told him just as the door opened and a blond head peered in with large, hazel eyes narrowed to slits.

"Hello," Neville smiled.

"There was shouting within," the child stated simply, "and I, being the eldest male without, thought that I should investigate."

The four men 'within' blinked at the adolescent who continued to stare and raised his eyebrows. The older boys looked at their dad before Favian approached the boy and pulled him inside, a tad roughly.

"Look, Dustin; it's Dad."

He glared at his brother, nose twitching in mute annoyance as he straightened his jacket. Favian pointed to their father and Dustin turned. He tensed up as if scouting a predator that had caught him unaware and his eyebrows began to quirk alternately in suspicion.

"What's the average air-speed of a Crumple-Horned Snorkack in heat?" he queried, suddenly.

Neville continued to blink.

Gregory leaned forward a bit and Dustin, without moving (aside from his eyebrows), warned, "Say it and I'll get my stick."

Ewan put a hand to his face, turning down the corners of his mouth with his forefinger and thumb, suppressing his laughter.

"No, no, Greg ... I've got this one," Neville muttered, thinking for a moment. "Seems to me ..." he began carefully and Dustin leaned his head back a little to look down his nose at this father. "... that the average air-speed of a snorkack in heat ..." Dustin made a noise of skepticism. "... would be hard to determine as no one has given an account of a flying one."

Dustin's head came up and his eyebrows ceased to quirk.

"So it would seem ..." he enunciated very carefully, stepping forward and studying the man closely. "... Dad." He moved to sit on the desk, walking around Neville without another word. Favian went to his father and sighed, "He's accepted that you're not an imposter."

"One can never be too sure," the youngest said, flicking fuzz from his tie. "Damned crumpled-horns."

Ewan snorted and began coughing to cover it up. Gregory just smiled. Neville eyes the youngest with amusement, then, took in all of his boys. Something was missing.

"I have a daughter, don't I?"

On cue, there was a timid knock and Ewan ran to the door. Clearing his throat, he announced, "Gentlemen, gentlemen, please. Pot your mandrakes and give me your ears."

His brothers chuckled, even Dustin, and Neville briefly considered the phrase, 'pot your mandrakes', but ignored it, finding himself ancious to see her. She was just an infant when he saw her last.

"May I introduce to you the most beautiful Longbottom under the age of ... Mum ... The smiling, the witty, the charming ... The lovely ... Cassia," he proclaimed, breathing her name for the grand effect as he bowed and opened the door.

Small like Luna, she had strawberry-blonde curls that framed her smiling, round face and Neville gasped. He knew that face and he knew it well. He'd seen it in hundreds of pictures. It was his mother.

"Come here, sweetheart," he called, kneeling a little. She came to him swiftly, throwing her arms around him, and he held her closely, lifting her off her feet as he stood straight. It was hard for him, knowing how much he'd missed. "You are beautiful," her father told her, kissing her cheek.

"Or course she is," Favian agreed.

"How could she not be?" Gregory wondered.

"Does no one ever listen to me?" Ewan thought aloud.

"And she hunts a fine snorkack," Dustin threw in.

The girl laughed into her father's neck and he realized she was crying, feeling warm tears on his skin.

"I'm so sorry, baby. Please don't cry."

The door opened and Luna peered around.

"Come on in," Neville invited.

"Can I borrow Gregory and Favian for a moment."

The oldest Longbottom boys went to the door and patted their father on the shoulder as they passed. Neville didn't know what was going on, but didn't mind so much. He had his children, he just needed his wife. He continued to stroke his daughter's soft curls and whispering in her ear.

Gregory stuck his head into the room, "Are you ready, Dad?"

"For what?" Neville asked, raising an eyebrow over Cassia's shoulder.

"Cassie girl, come over here for a minute," Ewan requested and Neville reluctantly released her.

Gregory raised his eyebrows and let the door swing open to reveal a pre-teen who looked much like Ewan, tousle-haired, but with brown eyes. He looked up at Neville curiously and Favian entered behind Gregory with a rusty-haired youngster in his arms.

"You're not old enough to have children that age," Neville said to Gregory.

"No, I'm not," his eldest son chuckled. Luna appeared between her sons and Favian set the child on his feet so she could take them to her husband.

"Neville, this is Brinley," she introduced, pushing 'brown-eyes' at him, then 'rusty', finishing with, "and Andrew."

Looking up at his mother, Brinley queried, "Is he staying this time?"

"Shutup, Brinley," Andrew told him, with a stern face, hitting his arm. "It's not nice to talk about him when he's standing right there."

Neville was hardly paying attention to their conversation, rather, watching Luna carefully, but she was avoiding his eyes quite well. The other children were silent.

"Is he better, then?" Brinley wanted to know.

Andrew shrugged largely, hands in the air. Turning to Favian, he repeated the question, apparently forgetting his own admonition.

"Dad is fine," Gregory said in an authoritative tone, and the two youngsters knew that the discussion was over.

It wasn't a second, though, before Brinley's face split into a wide, toothy grin and exclaimed, "Heya, Daddo!" suddenly surging forward and wrapping his arms around Neville's legs.

"Hello," Andrew smiled pleasantly, tugging on Neville's jacket and stretching his arms upward. Instinctively, remembering what having small children was like, Neville hoisted Andrew onto his hip without taking his eyes off his wife. Andrew rested his head on his dad's shoulder and Neville looked at him.

"Luunaa?" he said in a sing-song voice, the corners of his mouth twitching. "Can you come a little closer? Just for a second, it's nothing, really."

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes which were a bit larger than normal, wide with apprehension.

He put his mouth close to her ear and, so the little ones wouldn't hear, barely breathed, "How did you manage this?"

"Surely, you remember how it works," she replied, in the same tone, glancing around the room to find their children casually scratching behind their ears to hide the fact that they were straining to hear.

"Sure, sure," he smirked.

There was a long pause in which he looked at her with scrutinizing eyes, but he was still smiling. He raised his eyebrows inquiringly and cleared his throat. She furrowed her brow briefly before, stating loudly, "Of course!"

He laughed and kissed her cheek, trying to take a step toward her and finding his legs still pinned together by his young child. He planted a kiss on Andrew's forehead and set him on the ground, much to the boy's displeasure. Hooking his hands under Brinley's arms, he began to pry him off.

"Brinley ... let me go," he muttered, chuckling when he met giggling resistance. Brinley rushed his father and Neville tripped over the boy, dropping to the floor.

"Brinley Ronald," Gregory voiced, warningly.

From the desk of Ronald B. Weasley, Auror

Why don't you come to the house after going out for drinks? Mione's making your favorite – and I'm sorry about earlier. I was just overreacting.

He crumpled the memo in his hand and bolted from his office reaching the lift in seconds. It, however, took its time in reaching the second level. When it finally reached his destination, he pushed the doors open and quickly found who he was looking for.

"Neville?" the man said, surprised, looking up from his desk.

"What is this?" he demanded, slamming the wrinkled parchment on the desk.

Harry pushed up his glasses and studied his friend for a moment.

"Let me see it," he mumbled, picking up the paper and reading it. "When did you get it?"

"Just now."

"But it's been a week since ..."

"I know. What is it?"

Neville was pacing the cubicle, waiting for some kind of explanation.

"Ron sent you a memo."

"Neville!" Luna shrieked, kneeling beside her husband.

"I'm sorry," the boy apologized to his father who was batting Luna away.

"I'm fine, it's alright, my gosh," he declared, pushing her playfully. Brinley burst into giggles when his mum fell flat on her bottom beside Neville.

"Brinley," Gregory said again, smiling a little at his mother's stunned expression. The child put a hand to his mouth and snorted.

"You pushed me," she exclaimed, gaping at Neville.

"And you fell," he said.

"But you pushed me!"

"Only a little ... like this," he winked, nudging her shoulder lightly.

She flashed a wry smile and nodded, "Oh, just like that, eh?" A mischievous glint lit her eyes and Neville slid away quickly.

She smirked and got to her feet, "I must put dinner on. Kids?"

They all looked at her.

"Make sure your father is table-worthy."

A chorus of, "Okay, Mum," "Gotcha," "You bet," "Sure thing," "Right, then," "Of course," "Properly," sounded and she left.

Gregory pulled his father to his feet and Favian dusted off the jacket. Brinley took a step toward his dad, but his sister stopped him.

"No, I don't think he needs your help," Cassia said, hooking a finger in the collar of his shirt.

"Whoa, hey," Neville said, loudly, turning quickly.

"You've got dust on your bum," Ewan explained, laughing. Andrew once again, tugged on Neville jacket, expressing his desire to be hefted about again.

"How old are you?" Neville asked, pushing Ewan away and brushing the seat of his trousers himself.

"Young enough to still want hugs from my Dad," was the answer and Neville couldn't argue as he lifted him into his arms again. Gregory began making sure the collar was folded properly on Neville's jacket, working around Andrew's arms.

"I still want hugs from my Dad," Ewan declared happily. "And I'm 18 this year."

"So does that mean I can still get a hug out of Dustin?" Neville attempted, looking sideways at his fourth son who wasn't paying a lot of attention to the whole ordeal, instead watching the land outside the window. Raising an eyebrow, Neville looked at Favian and asked, "What's he doing?"

Favian glanced at his younger brother and with a straight face, answered, "Hunting."

"What?"

"Game is nigh," Dustin muttered, slipping off the desk and creeping to the window. Andrew had turned in his father's hold to see what was going on and Brinley was slack-jawed. Gregory had moved on to make sure Neville's tie was straight and Ewan was making sure his father's hair was perfect.

"Does he do this often?"

Favian nodded and Neville opened his mouth to speak again, but Favian stopped him, nodding toward the boy.

Dustin had turned an ear to the window and was listening very carefully when suddenly he dropped into a crouch and scrambled from the room. Neville (and Andrew) moved to the door and peered out, watching as Dustin disappeared around the corner. Quick, light footsteps could be heard on the stairs and then the upper level before back down the steps and out the front door. The man moved back to the window and Dustin bolted for the wooded area some fifty yards behind the house carrying a long wooden pole, and a half-times his height.

"What in God's name ... ?"

"Snorkacks," Andrew stated. "He hunts them. That's his stick."

Neville rested his forehead on the window pane.

"Lord help us, he's your mother."

"I resent that," Luna declared and Neville spun to find her standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. "I never once hunted with a wooden pole. Come on. Dinner's ready."