Chocolate Frog Card: (Silver) Augusta Longbottom: Challenge: Write about Augusta's relationship with Neville.
March Event: Augusta/Neville - 40 points
Word Count: 458
She loved that boy, she really and truly did. But it hurt to look at him.
He was exactly what she'd lost, what had ben taken from her so cruelly that she hadn't even had a chance to understand it before she was caring for a boy who could barely walk on his own.
He looked just like his father, from the hair and the eye shape to the way his little finger bent in a slightly crooked shape. It was something that had been passed down through every Longbottom male and Neville was no exception. He held features of his mother, of course, a woman that Augusta had struggled to like because she was taking her only son away. She hadn't even got the chance to become friendly with the girl before she too was cruelly ripped away. Now, she saw her eyes and her ears and her cute button nose on her grandson.
She'd had plans to spoil her grandson like grandmothers usually did; a skill they were known for doing. However, the war had been cruel and had torn her family apart, making the older witch suddenly someone who had a big responsibility and a broken heart.
She knew that she should let go of who she saw him to be so that she could see him for who he actually was, but she couldn't, it was too hard. Her son had barely been out of school for more than a few years before his life was changed. Before Alice's life was changed. Before her life was changed. Before Neville's life was changed and he hadn't even been aware.
"Look, Grandma!" the little boy of her thoughts exclaimed excitedly, waving the letter that the owl had given him in his chubby fingers, his eyes wide with glee. He didn't show much excitement; she was a stoic person and there hadn't been much need for fun when she'd been teaching him. She smiled happily. He looked just like her Frank had when he'd gotten his letter.
"It's wonderful," she replied demurely, taking a sip of her tea.
"Grandma, when will we go and get my supplies? My wand?"
"Oh, Neville," she sighed. "We don't need to get you a wand." She glanced away from his puzzled face. "Your Father's wand is waiting patiently for your touch. You're so much like him that I can't see any other working perfectly for you."
She pretended to ignore his disappointed face and the way her heart clenched with pain at the look.
"Your Father would be proud."
His soft, yet delighted smile, made her feel all warm inside. A feeling she hadn't felt for a long time. He looked just like his father. She should really stop comparing them.