Neville by gersknightlady

Neville by gersknightlady

Professor Longbottom stood at the edge of the doorway, looking into the huge hall. He edged into the room. Maybe if he wandered across the room with a purpose, he might reach the punch bowls without someone noticing.

Madam Granger always seemed to be watching him since he’d slipped those giggle berries into the punch two years ago. The sight of Snape and Granger sitting in a giggling pile on the floor in the corner had made it worth the hell they had given him afterwards. He’d been leery of trying anything last year. “I think that was the beginning of their fondness for each other,” he murmured to himself.

He passed the stage and glanced at Albus Dumbledore’s portrait, which was on the stage upon an elaborate easel; the old man looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Neville felt the heat rise up his neck, but the old man just winked at him, and he let go of the breath he was holding.

“Professor Longbottom, it’s about time you arrived. Let’s get this party going.” The old wizard grinned.

Neville remembered to breathe and nodded, grinning back. Being the Herbology teacher gave him access to all manner of wonderful plants that produced a myriad of effects on people. After the war, he’d decided that people only live once, so he might as well lighten up and enjoy his life. Ever since he’d killed Nagini, he’d been treated respectfully. Sometime too seriously, so he’d decided to make a different reputation for himself. He’d found he enjoyed practical jokes, especially if they got Snape back for the hell he’d put him through as a student. For some reason, the old bat hadn’t hexed him, but only sought ways of revenge with potions. Neville found the competition stimulating.

He sidled up to the bowls of red punch and slipped his hand into his pocket. Glancing around, he caught sight of the Weasleys and Harry Potter in conversation across the room. Old McGonagall was talking to Albus’ portrait now, and Hermione was closing in on Snape. He let his hand pass over the bowls of punch, and tiny silver leaves shifted through his fingers and floated to the surface of the red punch. They sizzled and vanished.

Neville grinned and looked around for his wife. He would have to warn her not to drink the punch. Tonight was definitely going to be entertaining.

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