#v; auror

[herbaelogist]

               “Are you nervous at all, Lovebug?”  Neville asks this because he is nervous.  Nervous that she’ll forget about him and other silly things like that.

        He responds to his anxiety by stuffing various photos of himself within one of her bottomless bags.  The moving images flash him nervous looks, as it’s quite a drop to the bottom of the bag.  Neville does this without looking up, forgetting that his girlfriend is there, watching his peculiar behavior.  He’ll drop some small potted plants in there, too— Vegetation that some of the creatures she’ll be searching for may enjoy eating.  And one of his own favorite sweaters, should Luna get cold.  And catnip for Noctis.  Okay, he’d packed everything she’d need.  

                It’s now that he looks up and catches her gaze and responds by blushing profusely.  “Sorry.  I just— I don’t want you to forget anything.”

@spectrespecced

[auriibus]

@thirsttoprove liked for a starter 

It wasn’t the first time Eris had been invited to an event and she doubted it would be the last but all the woman could think about was the mountain of paperwork that would be left on her desk come Monday, and although the event was for the Ministry, it certainly wasn’t worth the headache she’d face later.  Spotting Harry, she made her way over to him with a grin on her face, “I don’t think I’ve ever properly seen you all cleaned up since the Yule Ball.”

[herbaelogist]

                “D’you get days off?”  His question is followed by a sudden gasp: He’s nearly dropped a drinking glass he was wiping dry for Hannah after a nice cleaning (it was always better by hand than by magic, Neville thought). He tries to brush it off by quickly asking another question. “D’You get vacation time?”

       He’s not entirely sure what he’s getting at.  She looked exhausted and he wanted to do something nice for his friend.  Would it be strange to arrange a day trip with a friend? They weren’t particularly close. . Would she take it the wrong way? What if she simply didn’t want to go?  Neville finds himself shrinking away from the idea due to his lack of self-confidence and fear of rejection.  He wanted to be nice, but he didn’t want to be weird—

              “Umm,” He clears his throat before standing on his tiptoes and putting the glass away in a tall cabinet.  “If you could go somewhere, where would you go?”  That was a safe question, wasn’t it? Still on topic, but still not to the point where he had to propose his idea.  He could still change his mind, if he wanted.

@homebehind‘s hannah!

[herbaelogist]

‘ i worry about you. ’ (from hannah)

              “Don’t,” he replies hurriedly, tone firm.  “Don’t say that.”

       Neville looks away from her then, vivid memories filling his mind rather than Hannah’s words and her reason for using them.  Memories of Gran using that very same phrase as a form of ridicule when he’d done something wrong or something not exactly to her liking.  Whenever someone used the phrase that memory resurfaced in his brain, like an old wound that had never fully healed and worsened in bad weather.  Hannah’s true meaning behind the phrase didn’t matter.  That awful memory of sour Gran’s face would remain.  

      And Neville felt guilty about that.  Her tone was genuine and earnest: Hannah was worried for his well-being.  His profession was dangerous and scary and she acknowledged that.  And she cared whether or not he returned safely.  If only he could express his gratitude.  If only that phrase ‘I worry about you’ didn’t make him feel slimy and awful.  Maybe there was a way to make reparations for her earlier outburst, though.

                 “Just— Just say you’ll miss me instead.  Until I return.”  Neville shrugs his shoulders as raises his hands and begins to back away towards the door.  He does his best to offer a smile, though it’s sad and filled with guilt.  “Sound good?”  

-`✿´- love starters | @homebehind  -`✿´-

[herbaelogist]

“Do you want a hug?” (from hannah!)

hug starters | accepting | for @homebehind

         Did he look upset?

        From beneath crunched brows he looks at her.  Hannah, with her soft features and the worry in her gaze.  She’s doing that thing with her hands— Gripping the sleeves of her sweater so that her hands are barely visible.  It’s not something she does often anymore ( it was a prominent thing at Hogwarts ), but it’s something he’s noticed she does when she’s. . Nervous? Uncertain? Concerned?  Neville wasn’t particularly good at reading faces and body language— Nor was he good at hiding his own.  

         He was in pain, and it clearly showed.  And Hannah was probably worried.  

         Neville scratches the back of his head, hoping the sensation of nails against skin would distract his mind from the splitting headache he had.  It didn’t.  Neville squeezes his eyes shut once more, heavy sigh escaping his lips.  A hug wouldn’t get rid of the pain, but it might soothe his guilty-feeling heart.  But. . No, he didn’t deserve her comfort.  Not when his pain was self-inflicted; The result of one too many drinks last night.  And probably the night before.  And one before that.  A habit he needed to quit.  A habit that scared him.  No, he couldn’t accept comfort from Hannah.  

                   But. . He couldn’t say no.  “That’s all right,” Neville manages, squinting at her.  He tries to form a smile.  “You don’t have to do that, Hannah.”

[herbaelogist]

continued from here with @severelysnapped // -`✿´- Harry!

                    A wry smile crosses Neville’s lips. “W-Well, I thought keeping the curtains closed around me would be a good way to hide.”  Combatting the awful pounding in his head with dry humor helped, sort of.   He manages a small smile, but that hurt, too, due to a split lip.  “Though yesterday my head was quite swollen— Like a balloon.  You might not’ve recognized me then.”

          Jokes aside, he was probably lucky to be alive, and he was actively trying to avoid Harry.  Not because he didn’t wish to see his long-time friend, but because of where they were.  The hospital.  There were far too many negative memories that swam around in Neville’s head when he was here— Parents’ ailment aside.  Many a time had he rushed a fellow Auror into this very hospital to be told that they’d passed on the operating table, or that they’d received permanent brain damage from a nasty hex.  Such memories impacted his ability to be himself.  Such work impacted his ability to be himself.  And he didn’t want to see Harry when he wasn’t himself.  But was he ever truly himself anymore?

                    “But I’m all right, I s’pose.”  He continues in a solemn voice, thoughts now weighing heavier on him than before.  His smile has faded and he completely missed Harry’s comment about a second opinion.  “I’m alive.”  A dry laugh.  “Dunno for how much longer, though.  D’you know just how often I come in here? Probably a few times a month.  Each time I wake up here, I’m shocked I’m still standing.”  

         Oh, how strange he must sound— So bitter and sad and cold.  Neville lowers his gaze to the quilted blanket that lays across his legs, front teeth digging painfully into his already-torn lip.  Yes— This was why he didn’t want to speak to Harry.  This awful, shadow of a person who wasn’t himself took over when he was in the hospital.  This creature that didn’t care if he lived or died— Maybe awaited death, even. Neville feels heat rise up his face and settle on his cheeks.  His stomach twists in discomfort, like he’d eaten a bad meal consisting of regret, distress, and sadness.  

                 Neville clears his throat, trying to think of an excuse.  “Maybe I ought to go see my parents.”

[mymothershumility]

“Your breakfast is getting cold!”

domestic/family starter prompts || Accepting

{ @hopefulpuppet }

Laira glanced up from her parchment, quill stilling along the page, and stared at the form of Mary Diggory. Bent out the doors of the Great Hall, the young girl was staring up the stairs at some unseen individual. Resuming her stride and her thoughts, Laira walked in the girl’s direction.

“Are you typically this vocal so early in the day, Miss Diggory?” she questioned, stepping up behind Mary.

[mymothershumility]

"Why the change of mind?"

Her hands paused, fingers stilling along the spines of her books as they trailed along them. Eyes shifting to her eyes, Laira let a smile play at her mouth. Curiosity drove the question and it was a fair one to voice given the topic of conversation they’d found themselves engaging in. Humming, the woman finally stumbled across the text she’d been looking for.

“Dragon lore,” she spoke, tugging the bound pages from the shelf and surrendering it over to the girl. “I believe that you will enjoy it,” she continued.

There was still an expectant sort of look in Mary’s eyes, a hopeful glint that her earlier question would not be swept away as easily as some of the past ones she’d asked. Laira motioned for the girl to sit in one of the armchairs directly behind her. She in turn propped herself against her desk.

“In the end, vengeance changes nothing. It’s a temporary treatment for a far deeper ailment.” Blood for blood had never proven to be the best course of action to sate the pain of loss. Laira had learned from prior experience. It was wisdom that she hoped Mary would take to heart. “Snuffing out another life does not return that which was lost.”

There was no going back once you crossed that threshold.