Hermione had arranged to meet Neville early the next week, and Neville was delightedly surprised when she clambered through the Floo with a friend behind her.

"Harry!"

Hermione smiled as Neville and Harry grinned at each other and hugged, doing the odd sort of boy-hug that involved hitting each other on the back to make sure it was a masculine enough hug.

"What am I, chopped flobberworm?" Hermione teased, and Neville laughed as he came over to hug Hermione as well – decidedly sans back-pounding ritual.

"It's good to see you," Neville said earnestly, his smile genuine. "I never realize how much I'll miss you all until summer hits and I can't see you anymore. Thanks for coming."

"Thank Hermione," Harry laughed. "She's the one who schemed to get me out of my aunt and uncle's house and decided to bring me along today."

"That sounds like a story," Neville grinned. "Let's go down to the greenhouses, and you can tell me all about it."

Neville led Hermione and Harry outside to a large shed. The shed had rows of boots and gloves on the shelves, as well as an odd variety of gardening tools. Harry whistled lowly at it all.

"This is a bit mad," he said, looking around. "I thought it was just you and your grandmother, Nev?"

"It is, but these are mostly used by the tenants or workers," Neville said absently, scanning the shoes as he eyed their feet. "Here, Hermione – try these."

Hermione took the boots from Neville. "Tenants?"

"The Longbottom Estate holds a fair bit of land that we 'rent' to other witches and wizards," Longbottom said, holding a pair of boots up to Harry's feet before putting them back. "We don't really ask much in rent, but in exchange for the protection we offer and the like, we ask the tenants to come and help throughout the year with different harvests of plants."

"What, like wheat?" Harry said, taking his trainers off.

Neville chuckled. "No, Harry. Like Moon Lilies."

"Your knack for Herbology isn't some innate gift, then," Hermione said, realizing. "You've grown up around magical plants and potions ingredients all your life. No wonder you're so good at it!"

"I wouldn't say I'm that good at it," Neville protested, his face reddened. "I just really like Herbology. And I have a way with plants."

"Better you than me, mate," Harry said, finally standing with the boots tied on. "That venomous tentacula of Sprout's is always out to get me."

Neville laughed. "Come on, let's go."

Now clad in sturdy, protective boots with thick dragonhide gloves tucked into their pockets, the three of them left the shed. Neville led them up and over a hill and then down into a valley, which had rows and rows of various plants growing in perfect rows. Hermione was in awe at the sheer size of the valley, filled entirely with magical plants. At the other side of the valley were several greenhouses, the glass panes glinting in the sun.

"Most witches and wizards keep their own garden growing with the things they need the most," Neville explained as they walked. "Knotgrass, asphodel, belladonna, dittany, that sort of thing. But you don't want just anyone to be growing Death-Caps or Chinese Chomping Cabbages, especially if you have children running around. That's where we come in – we grow some of the rarer, more dangerous plants needed, and we sell to a lot of apothecaries in the area. That way, when people need a rarer bit of something to make a potion, they can just go buy it instead of trying to grow something risky themselves."

"All of these are dangerous?" Harry said, eyeing the plants around him carefully as they walked.

"We're walking through dittany now," Hermione said, pointing at the plants around them. She glanced around. "A fair lot of it, actually. Given the amount… do you contract directly with Saint Mungo's, Neville?"

"Do you just know everything, Hermione?" Neville teased, and Harry laughed.

"It was just a guess!" Hermione protested, but Neville waved her off.

"Yes, we do. They go through a lot of dittany at the hospital," Neville said. "We have agreements with a few other brewing companies in the area, too."

"So this is your family business?" Harry said, looking more impressed now.

"The Longbottom Legacy," Neville said lightly, but he didn't sound as cheerful about it as he had a moment before. "There are a bunch of families who specialize in a particular thing." He glanced at Hermione. "The Greengrass family is one of our competitors – they grow magical flora, too. The Bullstrode family raises magical fauna, for pets or potions."

"For potions?" Harry seemed horrified.

"Oh, honestly, Harry. You're not going to want a flobberworm as a pet," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "I'm sure they probably raise crups and kneazles, but flobberworms and newts and chizpurfles as well to use for their bits."

"Oh." Harry seemed somewhat reassured, but still uneasy. "But they raise them just to kill them, though?"

Neville looked confused at Harry's hesitance. Hermione wondered how much Harry really thought about the wizarding world and all its implications.

"It's not unlike a cattle ranch, Harry," Hermione said gently. "Or a chicken farm. You eat meat, don't you?"

Something warred on Harry's face for a moment, before he grimaced.

"I do, but I generally don't like to think about where the food comes from," he admitted. "I guess I've just been using bits and pieces in potions without thinking about where they come from either."

They reached the row of greenhouses, and Neville led them to the fifth one, unlocking the door with a large key.

"This one contains some of our more dangerous plants, so be careful," Neville advised them. "Don't just go wandering around."

Hermione looked affronted while Harry looked guilty, and Neville laughed.

"Just warning you," he said. "Come on."

The greenhouse was large, much larger than the greenhouses for Herbology at Hogwarts. Hermione eyed a Devil's Snare with apprehension as she went by – she knew the dangers of some of these plants all too well.

"What all did you need, Hermione?" Neville asked. "You had a list, I think?"

"A list?" Harry blinked.

"I'm doing a bit of an independent study project," Hermione told Harry, fishing in her pockets for her list. "Neville offered to help me out."

"A project?" Harry said, curious. "On what?"

"It deals with plants that are animate, ones that seem to have a consciousness but are still definitively plants," she said. "Here, Neville."

Neville took her list, scanning it.

"Bouncing Bulbs, Leaping Toadstools, and Schreechsnap are easy," he said. "They're not even in this greenhouse. Chinese Chomping Cabbage, Devil's Snare, and Venomous Tentacula we've got in here. We have Fanged Geraniums and Mandrakes in Greenhouse Six, so we can go there next."

He led them over to the chomping cabbages. They hadn't encountered these in Herbology yet, so Neville was careful to instruct them on how to harvest them properly.

"Only pick the ones with the dark green leafy bits at the top," he said, pointing one out. "Those ones are finished growing. They might try to chomp on your hand, so just be quick and careful where you grab from. If one is being nasty, you can try feeding it a bit of a carrot, so it's busy chomping on that instead of on you."

Harvesting the cabbages felt a bit like a game, Hermione discovered with amusement. With protective gloves on, she didn't face much of a danger, and it was kind of fun to test her reflexes and speed against those of the cabbage.

As they worked, Harry told Neville about his summer so far.

"You've got to understand, the Dursleys hate magic," Harry said, grabbing a cabbage with finesse. "They tried to stomp it out of me as a child. Didn't even know I had magic until I was eleven because of it, did I?"

"You can't stomp out magic, though," Neville said, baffled.

"Tell that to the Dursleys," Harry said darkly. "They certainly tried. Anyway, Uncle Vernon's sister, Aunt Marge, was coming to visit, and she's even worse. Most of the time my relatives want me out of the way unseen, but when Marge comes, they trot me out so she can say nasty things about me and my parents."

"They don't!" Neville was horrified.

"They do," Harry said grimly. "They told her I go to St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys."

Hermione snorted. "Is that even a real place?"

Harry's face flickered with amusement.

"No idea," he admitted. "You'd think she'd be more wary of me, if I was incurably criminal, yeah?"

"So what happened, Harry?" Neville prodded.

"We had a row." Harry viciously grabbed two cabbages at once, their mouths chomping futilely as they dangled in the air. "Uncle Vernon said that I was being ungrateful, that the least I could do for them feeding and sheltering me for years was appear to be a normal member of the family for a week before running off to be a freak again. I said that it wasn't normal to trot someone out just to be tortured for fun, and Uncle Vernon started turning purple and started yelling at me again."

Hermione turned away, trying not to react visibly, but hearing Harry's story of how cruel his relatives were was slowly making her angrier and angrier. Harry had grown up with this sort of cruelty for years?

"I ended up running away in the middle of the night," Harry said. "Took my trunk and Hedwig and summoned the Knight Bus. Mrs. Weasley had agreed I could watch their house for them while they all went to Egypt, so now I'm shacked up there for the rest of the hols."

"You ran away?" Neville looked impressed. "All by yourself?"

"I was going to get help from the Weasleys originally," Harry said, annoyed, "but Dumbledore sent a letter, telling them not to get me, saying it was important that I stayed at the Dursleys." He glared at a cabbage. "Mrs. Weasley was surprised when I showed up out of nowhere, without them coming to get me in the car. I think she thought I wouldn't come if they didn't pick me up." He shrugged. "She let me stay, though, so that's all that matters in the end."

"All this because of some alleged protection?" Hermione said, annoyed. "Dumbledore's full of it. You can be safe somewhere that doesn't have abusive guardians, Harry."

"Right?" Harry said, glancing at Hermione. "He insists that they're my legal guardians, though, and that I should stay with them." His eyes flared with defiance. "Summer break isn't school, though, so I just ignored him – he hasn't got power over me over the holidays."

"Good for you, Harry!" Hermione praised him, and Harry grinned, then deflated.

"I'm glad, don't get me wrong, but I couldn't get Uncle Vernon to sign my permission slip before I left," he admitted. "He said he'd only do it after Marge had stayed for a week, and only if I behaved myself."

"Oh no, for Hogsmeade?" Neville looked distressed as he gathered up the cabbages. "You can't miss out on Hogsmeade, Harry!"

"I know, right?" Harry said, distressed. "I'm going to ask Professor McGonagall to sign it for me, when we get back for the new term."

Neville handed out clippers to each of them as they moved over to prune the Venomous Tentaculas, something they'd had to do in Herbology before.

"Careful with these," Neville advised. "And that might work, Harry." He paused. "Do you think she'll sign it, though?"

"What choice do I have?" Harry despaired.

"Forgive me if there's an obvious reason this won't work," Hermione said, carefully taking clippings from her plant, "but Harry – why don't you just forge your uncle's signature?"

Harry turned to look at Hermione, his eyes widening. "Forge it?"

"Write your uncle's name on the slip," Hermione said patiently. "Pretend that he signed it for you. If you make your handwriting different from your own, how would Professor McGonagall ever know?"

"Can't, Hermione," Neville said. "There are charms you can do to see if something was penned in someone's own hand."

"Ah, but those only work on things you pen directly, yes?" Hermione said slyly.

Neville gave her a puzzled look. "How else do you write things?"

"Muggles don't use quills and ink," Hermione said with satisfaction. "They use ballpoint pens. And with a pen, the ink isn't used directly – it's a ball that guides where the ink goes in the end."

"Wait, what?" Harry stared at Hermione. "Is this why we can't use biros at school?"

Hermione blinked. "You never looked into why not?"

Harry looked embarrassed.

"How was I supposed to know why not?" he said. "There's no electricity anywhere and they use owls for mail. Using parchment and quills just seemed to be part of how everything worked."

Hermione started to grin.

"Yes, Harry. Witches and wizards used quills and ink pots still just for the aesthetic," she teased, and Harry flushed.

"I'm just saying…" he protested.

"It's fine, Harry," Hermione said, smiling. "I looked into it – quills and ink seemed so unnecessarily messy, you know? But Neville's right – there are spells to verify who wrote something, but they require it to have been written directly. With a pen, your writing can't be magically verified as authentic."

"That's necessary?" Harry said, surprised. "How often do people try to forge things, that that was necessary?"

"They can't forge things, which is why it's necessary," Neville pointed out. "Harry, imagine – if edicts from the Minister couldn't be verified as authentic, someone could slip in whatever they wanted and just claim the Minister signed it."

"Couldn't he just say 'I didn't write that'?" Harry protested.

"What if he was memory charmed?" Neville asked. "What if he just changed his mind?"

"Regardless of why," Hermione cut in, looking at Harry, "your cruel uncle, who hates all things magic, would never use a quill and ink to sign your form. He wouldn't even know how. So it'd be perfectly expected for him to sign it using a pen."

Harry considered the thought in his mind, before beginning to grin.

"He would, wouldn't he?" he said. "And they'd have no way of knowing he didn't sign it, unless they actually went to go ask him if he did or not."

"Exactly." Hermione nodded with satisfaction.

Neville was looking at the both of them, ignoring the Venomous Tentacula trying to grab his clippers.

"You know, I used to think you were missorted, Hermione," Neville said. "I thought you were too nice and too smart for Slytherin." He grinned. "But then, from time to time, you come up with something sneaky and brilliant like this."

"Sneaky Slytherin, at your service." Hermione took a mock bow, and Harry and Neville both laughed.

"It's good she's in Slytherin," Harry said firmly. "She thinks of things in a different way than the rest of us, like her brain just works in a different way." He grinned at her. "I can't imagine her fitting in anywhere else as well."

Hermione felt unexpectedly touched. "Thanks, Harry."

"Better to have her on our side than not," Neville agreed, laughing. "I think even Ron's come to realize that."

"Excuse me," Hermione said huffily. "But you all are on my side, not vice-versa."

Neville and Harry laughed, and they all passed the rest of the afternoon happily bickering about who was sided with who, other cliques within their class whom they would deem 'enemies' or 'allies', and what they were most looking forward to when school returned, all the while picking and pruning dangerous plants under Neville's careful instruction.

It was a wonderfully normal sort of afternoon, and Hermione found herself longing for more easy afternoons like this.