Of Friends and Flowers, chapter one
OK, so I got this livejournal thing because I wanted somewhere to collect my fics. So a good thing to do would probably be to start posting some of them, yeah? :)
This is a Potterverse fic, centered on Neville. One of the latest fics I've written.
Title: Of Friends and Flowers
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~ 14000 in all
Summary: Two years ago the war ended, which is not to say the battles ended. Neville, having chosen to aid his country by using the best skills he possesses, is working at St. Mungo’s as a Healer and Herbologist, managing the hospital garden and doubling somewhat unexpectedly as potion brewer. He lives a happy and contented life among work mates who see him neither as a clumsy boy nor a freedom fighter, but a gentle and pleasant young man and a trusty friend.
The arrival of an old school mate is about to turn his world on its head.
Chapter One-The Encounter
If friends were flowers, I’d pick you.
Neville was in St Mungo’s hospital garden pruning Heal-all, his arms red to the elbow and sticky with plant juice. He ran the back of his hand across his forehead again, wiping away sweat, and winced as he realised that he had now with all probability left a long red smear upon the skin. It had taken him some time to realise why the other Healers always laughed when he arrived back in from the garden-the reason being that there was always either dirt on his face or leaves in his hair, and he was always completely ignorant of the fact.
It had taken him even longer to realise that they meant no harm by their giggles.
He reached for his wand and waved it vaguely behind his head, muttering an incantation. After a few seconds there was a tap on his shoulder, and Percival, the faun who adorned the garden fountain some hundred metres off, bent over him.
“Water?” he asked, in a voice which was like the sound of a heavy rock dragged across a stone hall.
“Thank you.” Neville smiled and dipped the hem of his robes into Percival’s cupped hands, filled with clear cool water, and then rubbed the cloth across his face. “Sorry to have you running here all the time.”
“Good exercise. Keep lichen off,” said Percival solemnly. “Missed a spot.”
“Ah. Thank you again.” Neville attended his ear, which was still somewhat smeared with Heal-all juice. “I’ll call again if I need you. Hopefully I’ll manage to keep myself at least marginally presentable for the last half-hour.”
Percival bowed and removed himself with surprisingly little noise for a seven-foot stone statue. Neville returned to work, first shedding his outer robes with a sigh of relief. It was getting to be quite hot at midday, although they were as yet only half-way through May.
He finished the last Heal-all and laid his pruning scissors to rest in his gardening case. Next he turned his attention to the pruned-off branches and cut them down to seedling size, placing them in separate pots and watering them thoroughly. Hopefully many of them would set root-they really needed to extend their Heal-all grove.
There was a tap on his shoulder again, and he frowned, bowed over a pot of Heal-all seedlings he had set the week before. “Perce?” he said. “I’m sure I didn’t call….”
“It’s not Perce,” said a voice behind him, “it’s Luna.”
There was a moment when Neville wondered if his long exposure to the sun had made him have vocal hallucinations, but then he rose quickly-stumbling on his robe and almost falling, but saving himself just in time-and spun around to face his old school mate. “Luna!” he exclaimed. “When on earth… is it really you?”
The question was somewhat justified. Luna looked like she had lost about half of her weight-well, probably not quite that much, but not having had much to spare before, the change in her was certainly a drastic one. Her once long straggly hair had been cut down to just a few centimetres, and her protruding eyes were more marked than ever. Still, the same vague Luna half-smile was on her face, and there were large earrings of the kind he was sure no one else in the world would wear in her ears-two eyes fringed with heavy black lashes, one leaf-green and one sea-blue.
“I hope so, otherwise I’ve been cheated,” she answered seriously. He laughed delightedly. She blinked, looking a bit surprised, and he remembered-when they were in school together he hadn’t been the type to laugh much, had he?
“How are things with you?” he asked, taking her hands into his. Such thin hands, now… “Last time I heard of you, you were on your way to… Bulgaria? That right?”
Luna snorted, as if to suggest that journeys to Bulgaria were long out-dated enterprises; rather immature and so last year. “That was a long time ago,” she said disdainfully.
“Well, yes. It’s been a rather long time since I saw you.”
“There was a mission to Bulgaria, yes,” Luna continued, conceding to tell at least a little. “It went all right. I was glad to put it behind me, though. I have been told many great things about Bulgarian beaches, but I really don’t see what’s so good about them if it never stops raining.”
“I’m certain that it was rotten luck rather than a regular feature of their seaside.” Neville smiled and then hesitated before he continued. “Look… I’m almost finished here. If you’re willing to wait for just a minute, we can go in for lunch after my last plants are done, and you can tell me more about what you’ve been doing and how you are feeling.” He squeezed her frail hands carefully, smiling at her. “OK?”
She seemed as if she was about to say “no” at first, but then she nodded.
“Great. Why don’t you go sit by the fountain… the one with the faun. Ah, that’s Percival,” he added, then winced at his own stupidity. Yeah, that made sense.
However, Luna was one who always took oddness in her stride. She nodded again and wandered off towards the fountain, looking around her with mild interest.
He watched her for a while, then returned once again to checking which of last week’s seedlings had rooted themselves and which could be pulled up. Done at last, he conscientiously wiped the last of his tools and placed them in their proper places in the case, grabbed his outer robes and rose.
“Alright, Luna,” he began and then stopped as he turned to see the fountain bench empty of any girl at all, not least a half-starved, elf-like being. He looked quickly around the garden and then moved onto the main path and looked in all directions. Finally he cast a small finding spell on the garden and swore under his breath.
Luna had completely disappeared.
Chapter Two-The Job
This is a Potterverse fic, centered on Neville. One of the latest fics I've written.
Title: Of Friends and Flowers
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~ 14000 in all
Summary: Two years ago the war ended, which is not to say the battles ended. Neville, having chosen to aid his country by using the best skills he possesses, is working at St. Mungo’s as a Healer and Herbologist, managing the hospital garden and doubling somewhat unexpectedly as potion brewer. He lives a happy and contented life among work mates who see him neither as a clumsy boy nor a freedom fighter, but a gentle and pleasant young man and a trusty friend.
The arrival of an old school mate is about to turn his world on its head.
Chapter One-The Encounter
If friends were flowers, I’d pick you.
Neville was in St Mungo’s hospital garden pruning Heal-all, his arms red to the elbow and sticky with plant juice. He ran the back of his hand across his forehead again, wiping away sweat, and winced as he realised that he had now with all probability left a long red smear upon the skin. It had taken him some time to realise why the other Healers always laughed when he arrived back in from the garden-the reason being that there was always either dirt on his face or leaves in his hair, and he was always completely ignorant of the fact.
It had taken him even longer to realise that they meant no harm by their giggles.
He reached for his wand and waved it vaguely behind his head, muttering an incantation. After a few seconds there was a tap on his shoulder, and Percival, the faun who adorned the garden fountain some hundred metres off, bent over him.
“Water?” he asked, in a voice which was like the sound of a heavy rock dragged across a stone hall.
“Thank you.” Neville smiled and dipped the hem of his robes into Percival’s cupped hands, filled with clear cool water, and then rubbed the cloth across his face. “Sorry to have you running here all the time.”
“Good exercise. Keep lichen off,” said Percival solemnly. “Missed a spot.”
“Ah. Thank you again.” Neville attended his ear, which was still somewhat smeared with Heal-all juice. “I’ll call again if I need you. Hopefully I’ll manage to keep myself at least marginally presentable for the last half-hour.”
Percival bowed and removed himself with surprisingly little noise for a seven-foot stone statue. Neville returned to work, first shedding his outer robes with a sigh of relief. It was getting to be quite hot at midday, although they were as yet only half-way through May.
He finished the last Heal-all and laid his pruning scissors to rest in his gardening case. Next he turned his attention to the pruned-off branches and cut them down to seedling size, placing them in separate pots and watering them thoroughly. Hopefully many of them would set root-they really needed to extend their Heal-all grove.
There was a tap on his shoulder again, and he frowned, bowed over a pot of Heal-all seedlings he had set the week before. “Perce?” he said. “I’m sure I didn’t call….”
“It’s not Perce,” said a voice behind him, “it’s Luna.”
There was a moment when Neville wondered if his long exposure to the sun had made him have vocal hallucinations, but then he rose quickly-stumbling on his robe and almost falling, but saving himself just in time-and spun around to face his old school mate. “Luna!” he exclaimed. “When on earth… is it really you?”
The question was somewhat justified. Luna looked like she had lost about half of her weight-well, probably not quite that much, but not having had much to spare before, the change in her was certainly a drastic one. Her once long straggly hair had been cut down to just a few centimetres, and her protruding eyes were more marked than ever. Still, the same vague Luna half-smile was on her face, and there were large earrings of the kind he was sure no one else in the world would wear in her ears-two eyes fringed with heavy black lashes, one leaf-green and one sea-blue.
“I hope so, otherwise I’ve been cheated,” she answered seriously. He laughed delightedly. She blinked, looking a bit surprised, and he remembered-when they were in school together he hadn’t been the type to laugh much, had he?
“How are things with you?” he asked, taking her hands into his. Such thin hands, now… “Last time I heard of you, you were on your way to… Bulgaria? That right?”
Luna snorted, as if to suggest that journeys to Bulgaria were long out-dated enterprises; rather immature and so last year. “That was a long time ago,” she said disdainfully.
“Well, yes. It’s been a rather long time since I saw you.”
“There was a mission to Bulgaria, yes,” Luna continued, conceding to tell at least a little. “It went all right. I was glad to put it behind me, though. I have been told many great things about Bulgarian beaches, but I really don’t see what’s so good about them if it never stops raining.”
“I’m certain that it was rotten luck rather than a regular feature of their seaside.” Neville smiled and then hesitated before he continued. “Look… I’m almost finished here. If you’re willing to wait for just a minute, we can go in for lunch after my last plants are done, and you can tell me more about what you’ve been doing and how you are feeling.” He squeezed her frail hands carefully, smiling at her. “OK?”
She seemed as if she was about to say “no” at first, but then she nodded.
“Great. Why don’t you go sit by the fountain… the one with the faun. Ah, that’s Percival,” he added, then winced at his own stupidity. Yeah, that made sense.
However, Luna was one who always took oddness in her stride. She nodded again and wandered off towards the fountain, looking around her with mild interest.
He watched her for a while, then returned once again to checking which of last week’s seedlings had rooted themselves and which could be pulled up. Done at last, he conscientiously wiped the last of his tools and placed them in their proper places in the case, grabbed his outer robes and rose.
“Alright, Luna,” he began and then stopped as he turned to see the fountain bench empty of any girl at all, not least a half-starved, elf-like being. He looked quickly around the garden and then moved onto the main path and looked in all directions. Finally he cast a small finding spell on the garden and swore under his breath.
Luna had completely disappeared.
Chapter Two-The Job