ron hadn’t thought he would get sick of being cooped up in a hospital bed that fast, but hours after waking up he was already going stir crazy in spite of the burns covering his side. it had taken him a few moments to get himself up, but he made his way out of the hospital room as quickly as he could managed, making a sharp turn around the corner.
st. mungo’s was like a second home to neville. a second home that they hated spending time at, a second home that was filled with childhood ghosts and crushing memories. ever since becoming an adult and moving out on their own, they’ve found they spent far too much time here. they weren’t expecting to run into anyone they knew; of course, they knew about the attacks and that their friends were here, but they usually got in and out the door unseen with ease. surprise and embarrassment washed over them when they quite literally ran into ron, spilling apologies from their lips and cursing internally. anyone else, they would have been able to lie to, written it off like they were here, indeed, visiting those hurt in the fire, but ron, ron knew. “you alright, mate?” the question comes out slowly, steady, neville giving considerable effort so their voice does not shake.
proper plant care. it’s the first thing you learn in herbology, not the different sorts of plants or even how to use them, but their basic necessities: soil, water, and sunshine. they’ve turned their home into a replica of the herbology greenhouse, however, unfortunately, their small flat was not built to be a greenhouse and the plants took quite a bit more upkeep than they’d anticipated. neville didn’t mind, though, it was a nice distraction even if re-potting the plants meant the inside of their house looked like an outside. fresh soil sprinkled the floor, spilling out of the bag, and caked under their fingernails when they heard a knock on the door. their brows furrowed, trying to recall if they were expecting anyone. “uh, just a moment!” they looked around for a moment before giving up and wiping their hands on their pants.
they swung the door open and realized of course they’d not been expecting someone, ginny rarely lets them know when she plans on stopping by. neville doesn’t mind, of course, but they’ve got the sneaking suspicion that ginny’s mothering them. not that they could blame her, neville mothered just about everyone they knew these days, an emotional support blanket for all the people in their life. “hey, gin. sorry the place is a mess, did you want to come in?” sometimes she did, but sometimes she insisted on getting neville out so they were never quite sure what to expect when ginny knocked on their door. @gincvrah
it’s been a busy night, clearing off the bar only moments before another patron has taken the once empty seat. not that it was a difficult job, and neville didn’t mind being kept busy, in fact he always tried for that. if your hands were busy than your mind was focusing on what they were doing instead of every other little thing it could find to dwell on. at least they’d be able to wait until they got to the comfort of their own bed before becoming crushed by all the things they’d said wrong that day, everything they’d forgotten and everything they’d lost. when neville saw susan enter, they made their way over hastily, asking a coworker to watch the bar.
they place a hand on her shoulder in greeting before pulling her in for a hug. before they war, they never really had been big on physical affection, but they found now they craved it. “hey, susan, how’re you doing tonight?” it’s the first question they ask all their children, the members of the da who they’d taken under his wing, who had trusted neville with their lives. @svsansbones
of course, talking about death brings up those that have died, and that will always upset neville, but unfortunately they know first hand that there are worse things than death. death almost seems easy, when they consider the alternative. they’ve always considered themselves rather good at talking about death, not that they enjoy it, but they’ve helped multiple people after the war just by being an open ear. it doesn’t upset them so much as it’s a topic they’d prefer to avoic unless they’ve grown incredibly close with the person.
☠ : Are there any recent/daily thoughts they have about death or dying?
☯ : Do they believe for every darkness there is a lightness? If not, why?
♥ : Name one thing about the way their emotions work that they despise.
☆ : Would they ever wish upon a falling star? If so, what would they wish?
☁ : Describe how they would spend a stormy, overcast/rainy day.
☂ : Storms or clear skies?
εжз : What about nature do they find calming? What about nature do they find disagreeable?
☎ : List three or more people they would call out for during an emergency.
☛ : What is their typical response to being given orders?
☢ : Describe a thought or dream that would cause them to have a mental meltdown.
✄ : Are there any reasons why they would ever think of self-harm? If so, what are they?
❤ : Describe a physical action that shows complete trust.
❥ : Describe a verbal way they would express complete trust.
✗ : Explain how they portray feelings of hostility or dislike.
⊗ : What is something that causes them to question themself?
☾ : On a sleepless night, what would they be found doing?
☤ : Is there anything about their health they are continuously on edge about? Something they disregard?
✓ : Name at least two people who can trust them with their life.
❣: Describe a way that will earn affection (whether platonic or romantic) from them.
✖ : Describe a way to make them uneasy or apprehensive.
♆ : Are they prone to violent outbursts or thoughts?
✏ : What are their creative outlets?
✉ : Do they tend to rely on words or actions more?
♡ : Is there a certain scent that brings about nostalgia? If so, describe a memory this scent brings back.
۞: Are there any inner demons they can never seem to get rid of? What are they?
HOWLER: have you ever gotten in serious trouble with your parents? what for? (we’re gonna address this with augusta in the place of their parents bc otherwise the answer would be a simple, heartbreaking no)
they’ve always had a complicated relationship with the woman who raised them. there’s gratitude, for taking a child that wasn’t truly her responsibility, for being the first one to not give up on them. but there’s resentment too, because she always saw her own son in her grandchild and neville hated spending their whole childhood as a ghost. they got in trouble with their grandmother constantly, but perhaps no time was worse than the time they got the howler.
they’d lost the passwords list to the gryffindor common room and were already feeling bad enough about the danger they had put all of their friends in. they’d already been punished by mcgonagall, they thought when they saw the howler they might actually curl up and die in that moment. she always knew how to really make them feel bad, hitting them with phrases like “what would your mother think?” or “your father never got so much as a detention!” there was never really anger when neville messed up, only disappointment which was so much worse.
FAMILIARIZED scent of liquor leaks from her pours, cloth adorning her slender shoulder as she manages to juggle multiple glasses upon tray. the pub had been bustling a mere hour ago, but the late hour had seemed to only drive patrons away. in return, hannah was left with nothing but her thoughts, a dangerous feat, a lonely place if she’d ever known one. low hum escapes her lips, purrs at the back of her throat.
it’s because of this that she takes little notice to the loud crack, the steady footfalls of her companion. gaze trailing from counter top filled with dishes unto the figure ahead of her. “ thought i was nearly ready t’close for the night. can i get you a pint ? “ her vocals are soft, small waves crashing into the beached shore in a calm rage.
there was something about working at the leaky cauldron that made getting a drink there seem utterly unappetizing. it was probably something they should worry about, the amount of time they spent at various pubs, but after what they’d all been through, well it was no wonder the leaky and broomsticks were usually about full to bursting. celebrations, every one called them, but there was truly little to celebrate and neville saw right though the act. every one of them was struggling more than they’d let on.
of course, it was different after neville got off, often working so late that he’d have only just enough time to grab a pint before retiring to bed after another day. they did it, they made it through. the three broomsticks is admittedly his favorite, the soft nostalgia it brings up without being suffocated by terrible memories.
“hannah,” there’s surprise in their voice though they’re not sure at all why, of course she would be here and it’s not like this is the first time she’s served them. “oh, i’m sorry,” they feel incredibly awkward for a moment, a feeling that has always followed their apologies. of course, neville had been run late tonight it was certainly too late to be coming here. “i can go if you just wanted to close up early.”
to make their parents proud. the worst part is they’ll never truly know if they have, so they’ll sort of always be chasing that. maybe their parents were proud of them from the moment they were born, maybe they’ll never be proud of them because they’ll never know who neville is, so why would they care? they figure they probably have, at this point, made them proud. they’ve done everything they could to make the people responsible for their current situation pay for what they’d done. but still since they’ll never hear those words from them, they’re always trying to be better, as if they could actually do something grand enough to make their parents remember them.
As the newest hire of Semele’s Seeing Services, Daphne often found herself in charge of the small bits of menial labour around the shop. It wasn’t exactly an intensive job, but there were things that had to be done that Semele and the other witches’ old bones just did not handle well. … At least, that was the excuse they had given Daphne.
Unused to cleaning for herself, Daphne had balked at the new responsibilities. Now, though, the cleaning was soothing, the repetitive actions like an odd lullaby. When Semele was seeing clients, Daphne often found herself wandering around the office, looking for chores that needed to be done. Washing the sign out front was Daphne’s personal favourite: It allowed her to out-of-doors, under the sun, and something about making the company’s name shine filled her with pride.
Humming a song under her breath, Daphne cast another Scourgify at the sign, a stream of soapy water spouting from her wand. Unused to the spell, Daphne winced as half of the stream bounced off the wood and onto the street, splashing passerbys.
“Merlin, I am so sorry–” Daphne bounced down from her stepstool and raised her wand, preparing a Tergeo to remove the water from any sodden clothes. “Sorry, I’m not terribly used to this yet. Are you alright?”
they had thought being in the same house as fred and george weasley, no mischief would ever catch them off guard again. however they’d also thought with all of them gone from hogwarts and one of them just... gone, that they’d be seeing a lot less. their pant legs may be a little soaked, but they can’t help the smile that breaks across their face. it’s just an accident, whereas if the trouble-making twins had been responsible it most certainly would not have been and was more likely to be dungbombs than harmless water.
for once neville doesn’t dismiss the other’s apology, insisting that it was their own fault to begin with for even walking on the path, just meets daphne’s gaze with a nostalgic smile and a bit of a chuckle. “ oh, no worries, daphne, it’s alright, really. ” it was strange to speak to a former slytherin with what could almost be described as fondness. neville was still trying to figure out that a house didn’t make a person, and who they became after they left said house, well that was all up to them.
“ it actually, it kind of reminded me of school, you know. back when we were all first learning our spells. ” neville had never thought back then that they’d look back on hogwarts fondly. sure, it had turned out amazing, but the first few years had admittedly been little more emotional abuse, bullying, and bitter disappointments that neville was usually the face of.
hi hello i’m cal, and i’d actually die for any one of the stark children. i’m 21 years old and clearly care more about fictional characters than anyone who can legally drink should be allowed to. i’m in the mst timezone and use she/her pronouns & this is my nb bean neville shlongbottom, who is worth 12 of malfoy, catch these hands.
ALBERTO ROSENDE // have you met NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM yet? THEY are a NINETEEN year old NON BINARY PUREBLOOD. they live in LONDON, but they’re originally from TUTSHILL. they are best known for being a BARTENDER AT THE LEAKY CAULDRON, and i hear they’re pretty LOYAL yet also ANXIOUS at times; i hope they continue to heal.
QUICK FACTS
you can find neville’s pinterest here!
neville is a member of the longbottom pureblood family, who have always been well known blood traitors.
they’re just generally loyal. their first loyalty lies with the da, but also his family and his fellow gryffindors. they’d probably be loyal 2 a plant.
their wand is 13″, cherry wood, unicorn hair core, slightly pliable.
their boggart was once snape, which is definitely a valid boggart, but as they aged, they faced terrors far worse than a poor teacher. now their boggart takes the form of a snake, specifically nagini. it’s not snakes themselves they fear, but rather the feeling of fear itself, their terror that they will give into it.
when they were finally able to cast a corporeal patronus, they were surprised to find it took the form of a phoenix, a quite legendary patronus and one they certainly didn’t feel worthy of. it’s a symbol of their power of spirit, how though they may not have been the strongest or the bravest or the first in anyone’s book, but they overcame. their seventh year sort of was a rebirth for them, when they finally let go of the fear they’d lived with for so long and became the leader people needed them to be.
BIOGRAPHY (short bio? idk her, yeah i got a little carried away the last paragraph is really the only one y’all need)
born to parents who had thrice defied the dark lord, neville was one of two possible children referred to in a prophecy about the one who would defeat he who must not be named. voldemort may have made harry his equal, but his followers made an enemy out of neville, an enemy that would assist in their leader’s final downfall. the torture of well known aurors frank and alice longbottom at the hands of death eaters was well known in the wizarding community, neville would always be the kid whose parents were tortured into insanity. neville would never live up to the things their parents accomplished. these were things they were reminded of daily.
little changed when they started at hogwarts, except of course, the sorting hat calling out gryffindor. surely the hat had made a mistake and as the years went only, that only seemed to be proved right. they never fit in with their housemates, always a sort of odd duck, didn’t carry themself with the same confidence as other gryffindors and certainly wouldn’t count themselves among the likes of harry potter. but then the dark lord returned, and with him the followers that had destroyed neville’s life and at that point it didn’t seem like any choice but to be brave. when harry left hogwarts, they stayed, running dumbledore’s army and fighting against the institution from within. and when it came to the final fight, their bravery proved necessary for the destruction of the dark lord. the sorting hat let them know it had never been wrong about them, and granted them the sword of gryffindor for acts of true bravery which they used to kill the final horcrux, nagini.
with the war over, neville was able to finish their schooling and become an auror. it seemed like the most obvious path, fighting death eaters was all they knew, it was what their parents had done, and it seemed a good way to stick it to everyone who had ever doubted them. it didn’t take them long to figure out they didn’t enjoy it, though. the violence, the pressure, they had thought the war was won, but here they were still living in it. they didn’t realize this slowly, but rather all at once, in the form of a complete mental breakdown only four months into the job. they fell off the grid for a while after that, returning home and secluding themself with their plants. that lasted even shorter before they realized they were giving in to the problem, the fear, the worst possible thing they could imagine. so, they got back out there, with baby steps, getting a job at the leaky cauldron that they doubted that they were going to love, but it was a way to face the rest of the world, and figure out their place in it after the war.
MEMORY (i’m really proud of this so take it if u want pain)
The war is won, Voldemort is gone, but Neville can’t help looking over their shoulder as they duck into St. Mungo’s. They can’t help the suspicion as the receptionist’s gaze lingers on them a bit too long as they sign in and head up to the fourth floor. This anxiety, at least, cannot be blamed wholeheartedly on the war. They’ve always hated this place, and hospitals in general because of it, but they know this journey like the back of their hand. Their mother is sitting in a living chair when they enter, their father nowhere to be seen. Neville can’t help but wonder, do they still love each other, or have they forgotten each other’s very existence, like they’ve forgotten Neville’s? The cushions give way as they plant themselves on the couch across from their mother, almost too soft after night spent sleeping on the floor of the Room of Requirement. Even after everything, meeting their mother’s gaze is hard, but they bring themself to do it, and see nothing in them that reveals recognition. Silly, isn’t it, after all this time to still hope?
“I just wanted to tell you it’s done. It’s over, Voldemort’s gone.” Does she even hear them? By her reaction, Neville would guess she hadn’t, but she was always like this, staring at them blankly as if some part of her mind was trying to place them as her child. It just wasn’t capable of that anymore. “I killed Nagini. The last horcrux.” They’re not good at talking themself up, the victory belonged to Harry, really, and all the brave witches and wizards who died defending Hogwarts. “It’s not… I know I’m no boy who lived, but I hope that makes you proud.” A smile breaks across her face and it’s not much, but they’ll take it. Her ghostly hands reach out, clasped around something, so thin, so fragile. They open like a flower in bloom to reveal a small purple gum wrapper.
