A/N: I doubt anyone will be reading fanfic today since it is the new release of the next book but hey, when have I ever done anything reasonable? Here it is chapter 11. Oh, and in case you were wondering this will only stay true to the books through book 5.
A/N 2: Thanks to: Anne79 (nice call, you're right on track), Sukera, Allen Pitt (I have no plans for it but it wouldn't be a problem with working it in, and actually you just gave me an idea with their encounter. It wouldn't affect the main plotline of the story but would be a nice side story. I might have to just run with it and see where it takes me), godessa39, Sarah (I did, thanks. And there are vague hints as to what Buffy is but no specifics. That will be covered in the next story), and onlimain (thanks so much, I really liked that line too, DLC will be updated after I get more of this one out. Summer session II started and I find I have less time than ever, but it will be finished).
xoxox
England, March 2013.
Neville looked around him with great trepidation. He had heard the fearsome rumors about the creature that lived in this cottage. Personally he had never been one to play the hero, so while the others were taunting each other about who could get the closest to the cottage without getting caught, he had always sat on the sidelines, content in his sideline-sitting. However it seemed that fate had other things in mind for him. When Dumbledore called him into his office earlier that week, the last thing he had expected was the old headmaster to request that he visit the crone who lived on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
So here he stood, the closest that he, and almost all of the rest of the students, had ever been. The only way he had managed to get his courage up enough to make it this far was the fact that he kept reminding himself that Dumbledore would never knowingly send him to his death…he hoped.
He lifted a shaking hand to the door, and very softly knocked once. He hoped that the inhabitant of the little cottage would not hear his timid knock, but apparently they did. He was about to walk away when he heard a voice from the inside calling for him, "Ah Neville, please come in."
The voice stopped him in his tracks. While he had expected to hear the voice of a crackled old crone, this voice sounded almost young, cheerful…and American?
Reminding himself that voices could be deceptive, after all he lived in a magical community where nothing was as it seemed, he pushed the door open and popped his head inside. What he saw surprised him. Most of the large room was the living room, and the furniture was centered around the fire. A smaller area to the right was the dining room. He took in his surroundings slowly. There was a cheery fire burning in the fireplace that gave the room a welcome glow. There were several large overstuffed brown chairs that looked like you would just sink in them for miles. The walls were sparsely decorated, but the tapestries chosen were tasteful and pleasant to look at. There was a small coffee table in front of the largest brown sofa that had a tray of small cookies on it. Overall the room had a welcoming feel to it that washed most of his fears away. It spoke of comfort. The table on the other half of the room was all the way against the wall was surrounded by four chairs. There was an opening into another room where he could barely make cabinets. He assumed it was a kitchen. There was a closed door in the space that separated the living room and the dinning room.
"Take a seat, I'll be right in." The voice came from what he assumed was the kitchen and made him jump. He eyed the huge overstuffed chairs and chose one facing the rest of the room so that whatever it was that he was going to face, it wouldn't sneak up on him. After all, he might be considered the most cowardly of students by half his class and definitely all of the Slytherins, but that didn't mean he was stupid.
"What brings you here?" the voice called from the other room.
He looked around the small house anxiously, "I-I was sent to see y-you."
"Of course," he heard. "I'm making tea. Would you like some?"
"Sure." He fidgeted in the chair and waited for the person to reveal them self. The fear that had washed away upon entering was slowly returning, and he began to eye the door longingly. He heard footsteps come closer and what he saw made his jaw drop.
"You know, I never thought it was possible but it seems that the British-ness of this place has finally begun to rub off on me. This tea stuff…it's not half bad." The woman was young and beautiful. There was nothing evil-seeming about her. She carried a tray that held two teacups and a teapot and smiled at him as she sat the tray down and he couldn't help but grin back. "But then I guess that when you live in a place where there staple food is tea, it's bound to grow on ya."
Neville found himself slowly relaxing listening to her chatter, the room he was sitting in was almost cozy. There was a fire in the hearth and the entire place had a well 'lived in' look to it. "I don't exactly understand why I was sent here to see you, Ms. Summers," he said as she leaned over to grab a cookie.
"Oh God, call me Buffy. You say 'Mrs. Summers' like that and I'm looking over my shoulder for my mother."
An involuntary grin spread across his face, "Your name is 'Buffy'?" he questioned.
"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. Believe me, I've heard it all," she grabbed a cup and filled it with tea before curling up in one of the comfortable chairs across from him. "Help yourself. I promise it's not poisoned," she said with a mischievous look in her eye.
He gave her a small grin and obediently took a sip of the proffered liquid and settled into his chair. "Thank you."
"No problem. I hear tea is customary when two people meet. But as to why you're here…well, the Headmaster thought you might need someone to talk to, and here I am." She gave a slight shrug, "You don't have to worry about who I might talk to because I mainly hang out here. You don't have to worry about any of this affecting your grade because obviously, I'm not a teacher. Think of me as the closet where you shove everything when your mom tells you to clean your room. Out of sight, out of mind."
His confusion at the situation surmounted any pain he would have felt at her offhanded mention of mothers, but her charming demeanor had erased all the unease he had felt as if it had never been. Thoughts of an evil witch or what she might hex him with flew the window as he sipped his tea and decided for the first time in his life to relax and stop worrying about what someone else might be thinking of him.
After all, like she said, out of sight out of mind. And it would be awfully nice to have someone to talk to where he wouldn't have to worry about being judged. She didn't know him and chances were, no one else in his house were ever going to come down here so it wasn't like she could just spill the beans on his cowardly self.
It became tiring putting up his façade that everything was alright. Being surrounded by so many self assured Gryffindors day in and out was intimidating. He possessed none of the qualities that so many of his class mates had. And frankly he was tired of being the odd man out.
Of course it all worked in theory, however reality reared its ugly head and when he opened his mouth to tell her of his troubles, the words stuck in his throat.
The silence stretched for long moments before she took pity on him, "You know, you don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to. Why don't we start simple. Tell me about your family," at his slight flinch she quickly continued, "or tell me what you like to do."
"You mean in school or…"
"Anything. Whatever you want to talk about. I'm all ears."
"Um, I do well in Herbology."
"Really?" She scrunched up her face and looked at him appraisingly, "That was one of the classes I never got. I think it has something to do with the fact that it's so closely related to potions and as Professor Snape has told me on numerous occasions if an explosion waiting to happen was ever in human form it would be me."
"W-what?"
"Oh yeah," she went on enthusiastically, "he actually forbid me form ever going into his lab again. And when he kicked me out he said that the most volatile combinations of ingredients he had ever seen was me and any liquid…including water."
"You're kidding."
"Nope, I hate to say it but it's true. I believe his exact words were" her voice lowered and the English accent that had been unnoticeable up until that point sprang into life, "'Ms. Summers, if I ever see you within thirty feet of my classroom again there is not a source on this planet that will keep you in one piece.'"
He winced, "I guess I don't have it so bad after all."
She couldn't stop the laugh that escaped, "He's not all that bad. We've just come to the understanding that we work better together better outside the classroom."
"Snape hates me," he said quietly.
"What makes you think that?"
"Trust me. I'm not any good at potions, and you don't yell at someone that much in class if you have warm fuzzy feelings for them." He stopped and a look of revulsion spread across his features, "n-not that I would ever, ever want Snape to feel fuzzy feelings for me." She snickered, "I just wish he would leave me alone."
"Well, what is it exactly about him that makes you freak out so bad? I mean, other than the intimidation factor."
"I-I think you covered it with the intimidation factor."
"Okay, I can understand that."
"The moment I step into the classroom I forget everything I know, and it does not help that Snape tends to hover over us while we work."
"So it isn't a matter of not knowing the material?"
"No, I study for his class constantly but nothing ever seems to stick with me."
She observed him thoughtfully, "But you said that you were really good in Herbology."
He blushed and ducked his head, "I wouldn't say really good, but I do well."
"I just wonder why that information doesn't carry over into potions."
A confused expression crossed his face, "What do you mean by that?"
She reached for another cookie and chewed it slowly before swallowing, "Potions and Herbology are very closely linked. For many potions the materials need to be collected at certain times, especially the plants. A good Herbologist would be a great asset to any potions master as both tasks are time consuming. Also, if you know the ways the different parts of plants work you should be able to tell what will happen when they're combined with other ingredients."
He sat there for a few moments, stunned, mouth working soundlessly, "I-I, um, I never thought of it that way before."
"They don't really emphasize it as much in the younger years, they should, but they don't. I mean, it won't help with the intimidation factor but that's something you'll have to work at on your own. Nothing I can say to you will help."
He sighed, "I know."
A comfortable silence descended on the two, each lost in their thoughts. She thought of a snarky professor who couldn't let anyone get close and he thought of his place in the school.
"I sometimes wonder if the hat put me in the right house after all."
Her head came up as he spoke, "Why do you say that?"
He looked down at the cup clasped in between his hands, "It's just that I'm a Gryffindor. I'm supposed to be brave, but I'm a bigger coward than most Hufflepuffs. Everything scares me, and Snape is at the top of the list." He sighed and stared dejectedly at his tea.
"Wow. That must suck."
He blinked and raised his head, taken back by her bland statement. He hadn't actually expected her to agree with him, "Excuse me."
She shrugged, "Well, I don't know about you, but I'd hate to have my entire life defined by this one aspect. It sounds like the distinction has been made early on that your only value lies in a single trait you might possess."
At his confused look she settled into her chair even more and balanced her tea on a knee before launching into an explanation, "Ok, well look at it this way. You just said that Gryffindors are supposed to be brave, right?" He nodded affirmative, "And from your statement all Hufflepuffs are spineless. But where does that belief come from? Granted, the name Hufflepuff doesn't exactly inspire fear into the hearts of evildoers everywhere, but lets lay that aside for the moment.
"Your entire life at school is defined by which house you're placed in, an idea that is inherently faulty." The confused look on his face said it all. She was losing him. She could tell.
She jumped up after placing her tea on the side table and began pacing in front of the fire, "I mean think about it. What happens of you're, oh say both brave and cunning? What then? Is it the simple fact that you might be a little bit more cunning than brave that places you in one house over the other? And then after you're placed into a house to you just assume that those other traits that you show like loyalty, which by the way is so not the cowardly way, just fall to the side while you only concentrate on the qualities embodied by your house?"
She tsk-ed mockingly, "That just doesn't seem to me like the best way to create well rounded individuals to me."
She ended her tirade with a dramatic sigh as she threw herself onto the chair she had been sitting on. After a beat she perked up from her slouched position and continued, "Oh, and people shouldn't look down on Hufflepuffs just because they value loyalty over anything else. Sometimes it takes more courage to remain loyal to yourself and your own beliefs than it does to face down another."
The small snort escaped him as he examined her broke what little tension there was and she laughed. The conversation turned to other things and the ease he felt in her presence only grew.
She was so passionate about the things she felt she practically radiated energy. He had never met anyone like her and hoped he would have reason to come back.
Tbc…
