10 YEARS LATER
A memorial service for the fallen was held every year on the grounds of Hogwarts school – it was one of the few occasions on which I had visited Neville's school since the birth of our children. Neville had to remain in the school during the term time and well, our small but increasing family looked forward to the weekends where he would return home.
Our children, Alice and Frank, sat silently, just as all of the other children did, listening to the headmistress as she spoke of the war and the bravery of the students who had led the fight against Voldemort. Alice, a precocious 6-year-old, shuffled on her seat as she wasn't used to siting still for so long. Her father, seeing the movement from the corner of his eyes, lifted his daughter into his embrace, settling her onto his lap as his hand sought out mine. He never did say just how hard the memorial service was for him. But he never needed to.
Squeezing Neville's hand, I looked down at the boy on my other side who sat more silently than any of the other children present at the memorial. Frank swung his feet, eyes staring up at the older woman as she spoke as if he, in all his 4 years of age, could understand every word that she was saying. Professor McGonagall's speech came to an end as the occupants of the hall rose to their feet for the traditional 2 minutes of silence. Frank pulled at my arm, telling me that he was growing tired and I leaned down to pick him up.
Once the two minutes of silence had ended, the older generations and the newer generations started to talk and it was during this time that I saw Neville the way that many of the young children did – as a war hero. In fact, that was what Neville and his friends all were and they had only been the age of some of the students in the hall when they chose which part to play. This was one of the few occasions on which Neville spoke of the war, choosing to use his experience as a means of educating the younger generation on the importance of fighting for what was right. But that didn't mean that it didn't pain him to speak of it. Even now.
Frank fussed in my arms and I settled him down on the ground. He instantly ran over to young Albus, talking animatedly to the other boy and Alice followed after her younger brother to make sure that he didn't cause any trouble. When in reality, my daughter was more likely to be the cause of trouble, should there be any.
Once he had finished talking to the group of students that had approached him, Neville made his way over to where I had sat down when my back had begun to ache. He sat in the chair beside mine, taking my hand in his and raising it to his lips.
"How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine," I said with a roll of my eyes, dismissing his worries. "My back just started to ache so I needed to sit down for a bit. What about you?"
"I'm good," he said with a sigh, making me narrow my eyes at him. "Really, I am."
"If you're sure," I said, still a little suspicious.
Neville turned his eyes to stare out into the hall, looking for someone and I knew just who it was. "Where are the kids?"
"Frank ran off as soon as he saw Albus and Alice followed after him." I shared a knowing look with my husband, "I bet you she's run off to create trouble with James and Fred."
"I'd be an idiot to bet against that." He pressed a kiss to my cheek, settling a hand onto my rounded stomach, "And baby number 3? How is he?"
"Sleeping for now so I suggest you remove your hand Neville Longbottom because he'll only start playing my inner organs like a drum once he wakes up." Neville trailed his fingers teasingly across my stomach, drawing random patterns over the top of my clothes and I narrowed my eyes at him, "If you wake him up, then you can spend this weekend sleeping in the castle. I'll get Harry to set up temporary wards against you."
Knowing that I was serious, he wisely pulled his hand away, just in time too as a grinning George Weasley approached us with his arms full of our sleeping daughter. Neville rose to his feet, taking Alice out of the older man's arms.
"It looks like she's experiencing a sugar crash," he said with a knowing grin, gesturing to Fred who was sleeping in his mother's arms and James who was being carried out of the great hall by his father. I didn't even want to know where the three troublemakers had found so much sugar. "There's trouble whenever the three of them get together."
"If she doesn't wake up soon then it looks like she'll be awake at the crack of dawn tomorrow." Neville looked over at me and I shook my head with a sigh.
"Then in that case you can deal with her tomorrow morning," I rose to my feet after shifting the responsibility of our daughter to her father. Neville was there instantly, pressing a hand to my back to help me to my feet.
George let out a whistle, eyes glued to my ballooning stomach, "Merlin Longbottom, where do you find the time to keep knocking up your wife? You spend more time in this school then you do at home." Neville flushed red at the teasing words and George's inner prankster came into play as he gently ribbed Neville, "Or do you get so impatient that you need to take secret trips to the broom closets?"
I snickered quietly beside Neville whose entire face had gone Gryffindor red.