Because I was reminded and because it's Neville and Luna's turn on triology this week...
Title: Outnumbered
Author: trio_neville
Rating: G
Ship: Neville/Luna
Word Count: 1,735
Author’s Note: Written last spring as a birthday present, this takes place in the future universe Luna’s player and I came up with for trio_neville and trio_luna oh so very long ago. It’s the fall of 2008, late September/early October, and the kids are set to turn 3-years-old in December.
“Neville, I’ve got to run some errands in London this morning. You’ll be able to handle the triplets by yourself for a few hours, won’t you?” Luna’s sing song voice carries to him into the loo.
Neville sticks his head out of the bathroom, shirt only half on to see his wife already floating through their bedroom door without waiting for his answer.
“Sure. No problem,” he mutters to the now empty room, pulling his shirt on completely as an Apparition crack can be heard from the general area of the terrace. “I’ll just owl Susan and tell her not to expect me in until this afternoon, I suppose.”
Odd, he thinks as he makes his way to the nursery, Luna hadn’t mentioned anything about needing to run errands to him last night.
*****
“Thank you, sweetheart,” Neville beams, bending down to take a carefully potted Always-Blooming Violet from his daughter’s out-stretched hands and place a kiss on her forehead. He makes a show of putting the plant up on the special workbench, the one he’s reserved to hold anything his children do while spending time with him in the small greenhouse he built behind the villa.
“’Nother, Daddy?” Alice queries as he turns back around.
“Sure, you can do another.” He crouches down next to her, placing another terra cotta pot in front of her, muttering the Unbreakable Charm as he does so. “Let’s see, you’ve already made one for Mummy and me, and one for Aunt Tracey, so how about you make one for Aunt Susan now?” Neville watches as she nods excitedly, her pale grey eyes lighting up as she reaches for the flat he had set down earlier in the middle of their blanket and plucks one of the violets from its cell.
Pulling a silly face at Tybalt, Neville rises, running a hand over Jacob’s bent head as he passes by on his way to the back of the greenhouse. Jacob may be the spitting image of him, but Alice is the only one of the three who takes to the projects he gives them with any sort of seriousness. The boys much rather prefer to play around in the soil, making mounds and messes, which is fine with Neville because it keeps them happily occupied. Usually.
He is checking on the misting charms over his latest Wolfsbane cross-breeds, intending to adjust the temperature over the Buchu hybrids next when an indignant squeal reaches his ears. He turns to see Alice and Jacob look up from their blanketed area and over at the entrance of the greenhouse to giggle at their brother, who is now hanging upside down in mid-air, before Alice goes back to her potting and Jacob goes back to piling soil up, over, and around his pot with his typical single-minded determination.
Dusting off his hands with a sigh, Neville makes his way over to his other son.
“Going somewhere, Tybalt Francis?”
“Nooooooo,” he replies innocently, blonde hair splayed out halo-like around his head due to the effect of gravity.
“Are you sure?
“Yessssss. Tacula catched me afore I could.”
“Just like it does every time, huh?”
“Yes,” Tybalt pouts, crossing his arms across his chest in a disgruntled manner.
Neville just shakes his head, fighting a grin at the sight he makes. This particular Venomous tentacula has been placed above the greenhouse entrance for one reason and one reason only - to not let any of the triplets in or out of the greenhouse unless he or Luna is with them. Once they began to crawl, it soon became apparent that training the naturally grabby plant to do this was one of the smartest decisions Neville had ever made - Alice and Jacob quickly learned their lessons, but Tybalt still hasn’t and likely never will. He’s inherited his mother’s need to investigate things, along with her hair colour, and it goes well beyond a toddler’s normal curiosity.
“Honestly, I don’t think I ever gave Gran this much trouble,” Neville muses to himself as he first rights, and then untangles his son from the tentacula’s grasp, hefting him onto a hip. At least not at this age, he silently amends.
“Gan?” the toddler utters breathlessly, hazel eyes darting around the greenhouse. Neville suppresses a chuckle as his son buries his face against his shoulder, obviously fearful he is about to be taken to task by his great-grandmother for behaving naughtily. Gran loves the triplets something fierce, but she never fails to let them know when she thinks they are getting out of hand, which Neville has to admit, is at least twenty times a visit.
“No, Gran’s not here right now.”
“Dwanpa?” Tybalt asks hopefully, picking his head up to glance around the greenhouse again.
“Sorry Tyb, Grandpa isn’t either. I think Mummy said he’s somewhere in Romania at the moment, covering a story for The Quibbler.”
“Oh.” Neville watches his face fall. Alice, Tybalt, and Jacob all adore Luna’s father, a sentiment that is more than reciprocated. Unfortunately, Mr Lovegood’s visits are far more sporadic than Gran’s are, due the hectic nature of running the magazine.
“Mummy thinks he should be back next week though, and we’ll have him over then, okay?” Neville offers, tapping his son on the nose as his little face lights up all over again.
Their relationship is still tense at times, but since the triplets were born nearly three years ago, his father-in-law has mellowed toward him somewhat. Apparently producing three grandchildren for him means that now I’m not completely without merit in his eyes, Neville thinks wryly as Alice’s laughter reaches his ears.
“Jacob Caradoc,” Neville half-groans, half-laughs as he looks down to see his son covered head to toe in soil, having upended his carefully packed pot over his own head. Neville always hated being called by his first and middle names because it was a sure sign he had done something wrong and was about to be in trouble, and yet here he was, doing it himself. It must be some sort of innate parent thing, he thinks as Jacob reaches for Tybalt’s unattended pot and promptly dumps it over his head as well, eliciting more squeals of laughter from his sister and causing Tybalt to start giggling into Neville’s shoulder.
Alice’s laughter quickly turns into a gasp of outrage, however, when Jacob reaches across the blanket toward her, obviously intending to have the same sort of fun with her pot. Eyes narrowing, she snatches her newly potted Always-Blooming Violet out of her brother’s way and sticks it protectively behind her back. Clearly, she is not going to give up her present for Aunt Susan without a fight.
Undeterred, Jacob, who is nothing if not determined once he sets his mind to something, quickly changes tack, instead reaching for Alice’s favourite toy, Methusaleh, a stuffed Crumple-Horned Snorkack Luna had created for her. Snatching the plushie up from where it rested at his sister’s side, Jacob chortles triumphantly, holding it high above his head.
At Neville’s hip, Tybalt quickly covers his ears, expecting the enormous shriek that usually erupts from his sister on the rare occasions he or his brother actually do dare to mess with her most prized possession. Instead, Alice squinches up her face, and the next thing any of them know, the small pile of soil still atop Jacob’s head has burst into flames.
Shocked, Jacob drops the plushie just as Neville, generally unphased by anything his children do, magical or otherwise, automatically draws his wand and quickly casts a Dousing Charm over his son’s head, jaw agape.
Tybalt is unusually quiet as Neville hurries them both over to where his brother and sister sit, staring at each other with equally stunned expressions on their faces. Soil, well it’s more like mud now, really, Neville thinks as he sets Tybalt down to kneel next to them on the blanket, is slowly dripping down the sides of Jacob’s face, and Alice’s lower lip is starting to tremble, Methusaleh completely forgotten as she starts to realise exactly what she’s just done.
Neville was as ecstatic as anyone, if not more, when all three triplets began showing signs of magical ability shortly after they were born, but this, he thinks as he brushes the muddy mess off Jacob’s head, is just a bit much.
“Right then,” he says, picking up the potted Always-Blooming Violet and placing it on the workbench above them before scooping Tybalt and Alice up in one arm and Jacob and Methusaleh in the other. “It’s time for a bath.”
Three wails of protest simultaneously greet this announcement, and they begin to squirm frantically once he’s exited the greenhouse. More protests go up as they start across the lawn toward the villa.
“Daddy, no!”
“Daddy, we be good now!”
“Yeah, we be! We be! Pwease no!”
*****
Luna smiles at the sight that greets her as she Apparates onto the terrace. Lying in the hammock, shaded from the early afternoon sun is her family. Neville is in the center; Alice and Jacob are each tucked into a side. Neville’s got his arms curled protectively around their middles, keeping them away from the edges, and his chin is resting on top of Alice’s brown curls, while Tybalt has one of Neville’s legs wrapped in a death grip, and rests his head on his father’s middle. The triplets aren’t wearing the same outfits she put them in this morning, and Neville’s shirt and shorts look rather damp for such a bright and sunny day. All four are fast asleep.
With a small smile, Luna notes one limb is still unoccupied. But not for long, she thinks to herself, her smile widening as she glances down at her presently flat stomach, then back to her dozing family that is going to be increased by one more by this time next year.
She can’t wait to tell Neville the glorious news, and really, he rightfully should have been the first to know, but she just couldn’t resist stopping by and letting Frank and Alice know that they are going to become grandparents again. Biting her lower lip, Luna debates whether or not to wake her husband up. She really can’t wait to tell him, but she figures she can hold off just long enough for him to finish his nap. After all, she decides, he looks as if he’s earned it.
Author: trio_neville
Rating: G
Ship: Neville/Luna
Word Count: 1,735
Author’s Note: Written last spring as a birthday present, this takes place in the future universe Luna’s player and I came up with for trio_neville and trio_luna oh so very long ago. It’s the fall of 2008, late September/early October, and the kids are set to turn 3-years-old in December.
“Neville, I’ve got to run some errands in London this morning. You’ll be able to handle the triplets by yourself for a few hours, won’t you?” Luna’s sing song voice carries to him into the loo.
Neville sticks his head out of the bathroom, shirt only half on to see his wife already floating through their bedroom door without waiting for his answer.
“Sure. No problem,” he mutters to the now empty room, pulling his shirt on completely as an Apparition crack can be heard from the general area of the terrace. “I’ll just owl Susan and tell her not to expect me in until this afternoon, I suppose.”
Odd, he thinks as he makes his way to the nursery, Luna hadn’t mentioned anything about needing to run errands to him last night.
*****
“Thank you, sweetheart,” Neville beams, bending down to take a carefully potted Always-Blooming Violet from his daughter’s out-stretched hands and place a kiss on her forehead. He makes a show of putting the plant up on the special workbench, the one he’s reserved to hold anything his children do while spending time with him in the small greenhouse he built behind the villa.
“’Nother, Daddy?” Alice queries as he turns back around.
“Sure, you can do another.” He crouches down next to her, placing another terra cotta pot in front of her, muttering the Unbreakable Charm as he does so. “Let’s see, you’ve already made one for Mummy and me, and one for Aunt Tracey, so how about you make one for Aunt Susan now?” Neville watches as she nods excitedly, her pale grey eyes lighting up as she reaches for the flat he had set down earlier in the middle of their blanket and plucks one of the violets from its cell.
Pulling a silly face at Tybalt, Neville rises, running a hand over Jacob’s bent head as he passes by on his way to the back of the greenhouse. Jacob may be the spitting image of him, but Alice is the only one of the three who takes to the projects he gives them with any sort of seriousness. The boys much rather prefer to play around in the soil, making mounds and messes, which is fine with Neville because it keeps them happily occupied. Usually.
He is checking on the misting charms over his latest Wolfsbane cross-breeds, intending to adjust the temperature over the Buchu hybrids next when an indignant squeal reaches his ears. He turns to see Alice and Jacob look up from their blanketed area and over at the entrance of the greenhouse to giggle at their brother, who is now hanging upside down in mid-air, before Alice goes back to her potting and Jacob goes back to piling soil up, over, and around his pot with his typical single-minded determination.
Dusting off his hands with a sigh, Neville makes his way over to his other son.
“Going somewhere, Tybalt Francis?”
“Nooooooo,” he replies innocently, blonde hair splayed out halo-like around his head due to the effect of gravity.
“Are you sure?
“Yessssss. Tacula catched me afore I could.”
“Just like it does every time, huh?”
“Yes,” Tybalt pouts, crossing his arms across his chest in a disgruntled manner.
Neville just shakes his head, fighting a grin at the sight he makes. This particular Venomous tentacula has been placed above the greenhouse entrance for one reason and one reason only - to not let any of the triplets in or out of the greenhouse unless he or Luna is with them. Once they began to crawl, it soon became apparent that training the naturally grabby plant to do this was one of the smartest decisions Neville had ever made - Alice and Jacob quickly learned their lessons, but Tybalt still hasn’t and likely never will. He’s inherited his mother’s need to investigate things, along with her hair colour, and it goes well beyond a toddler’s normal curiosity.
“Honestly, I don’t think I ever gave Gran this much trouble,” Neville muses to himself as he first rights, and then untangles his son from the tentacula’s grasp, hefting him onto a hip. At least not at this age, he silently amends.
“Gan?” the toddler utters breathlessly, hazel eyes darting around the greenhouse. Neville suppresses a chuckle as his son buries his face against his shoulder, obviously fearful he is about to be taken to task by his great-grandmother for behaving naughtily. Gran loves the triplets something fierce, but she never fails to let them know when she thinks they are getting out of hand, which Neville has to admit, is at least twenty times a visit.
“No, Gran’s not here right now.”
“Dwanpa?” Tybalt asks hopefully, picking his head up to glance around the greenhouse again.
“Sorry Tyb, Grandpa isn’t either. I think Mummy said he’s somewhere in Romania at the moment, covering a story for The Quibbler.”
“Oh.” Neville watches his face fall. Alice, Tybalt, and Jacob all adore Luna’s father, a sentiment that is more than reciprocated. Unfortunately, Mr Lovegood’s visits are far more sporadic than Gran’s are, due the hectic nature of running the magazine.
“Mummy thinks he should be back next week though, and we’ll have him over then, okay?” Neville offers, tapping his son on the nose as his little face lights up all over again.
Their relationship is still tense at times, but since the triplets were born nearly three years ago, his father-in-law has mellowed toward him somewhat. Apparently producing three grandchildren for him means that now I’m not completely without merit in his eyes, Neville thinks wryly as Alice’s laughter reaches his ears.
“Jacob Caradoc,” Neville half-groans, half-laughs as he looks down to see his son covered head to toe in soil, having upended his carefully packed pot over his own head. Neville always hated being called by his first and middle names because it was a sure sign he had done something wrong and was about to be in trouble, and yet here he was, doing it himself. It must be some sort of innate parent thing, he thinks as Jacob reaches for Tybalt’s unattended pot and promptly dumps it over his head as well, eliciting more squeals of laughter from his sister and causing Tybalt to start giggling into Neville’s shoulder.
Alice’s laughter quickly turns into a gasp of outrage, however, when Jacob reaches across the blanket toward her, obviously intending to have the same sort of fun with her pot. Eyes narrowing, she snatches her newly potted Always-Blooming Violet out of her brother’s way and sticks it protectively behind her back. Clearly, she is not going to give up her present for Aunt Susan without a fight.
Undeterred, Jacob, who is nothing if not determined once he sets his mind to something, quickly changes tack, instead reaching for Alice’s favourite toy, Methusaleh, a stuffed Crumple-Horned Snorkack Luna had created for her. Snatching the plushie up from where it rested at his sister’s side, Jacob chortles triumphantly, holding it high above his head.
At Neville’s hip, Tybalt quickly covers his ears, expecting the enormous shriek that usually erupts from his sister on the rare occasions he or his brother actually do dare to mess with her most prized possession. Instead, Alice squinches up her face, and the next thing any of them know, the small pile of soil still atop Jacob’s head has burst into flames.
Shocked, Jacob drops the plushie just as Neville, generally unphased by anything his children do, magical or otherwise, automatically draws his wand and quickly casts a Dousing Charm over his son’s head, jaw agape.
Tybalt is unusually quiet as Neville hurries them both over to where his brother and sister sit, staring at each other with equally stunned expressions on their faces. Soil, well it’s more like mud now, really, Neville thinks as he sets Tybalt down to kneel next to them on the blanket, is slowly dripping down the sides of Jacob’s face, and Alice’s lower lip is starting to tremble, Methusaleh completely forgotten as she starts to realise exactly what she’s just done.
Neville was as ecstatic as anyone, if not more, when all three triplets began showing signs of magical ability shortly after they were born, but this, he thinks as he brushes the muddy mess off Jacob’s head, is just a bit much.
“Right then,” he says, picking up the potted Always-Blooming Violet and placing it on the workbench above them before scooping Tybalt and Alice up in one arm and Jacob and Methusaleh in the other. “It’s time for a bath.”
Three wails of protest simultaneously greet this announcement, and they begin to squirm frantically once he’s exited the greenhouse. More protests go up as they start across the lawn toward the villa.
“Daddy, no!”
“Daddy, we be good now!”
“Yeah, we be! We be! Pwease no!”
*****
Luna smiles at the sight that greets her as she Apparates onto the terrace. Lying in the hammock, shaded from the early afternoon sun is her family. Neville is in the center; Alice and Jacob are each tucked into a side. Neville’s got his arms curled protectively around their middles, keeping them away from the edges, and his chin is resting on top of Alice’s brown curls, while Tybalt has one of Neville’s legs wrapped in a death grip, and rests his head on his father’s middle. The triplets aren’t wearing the same outfits she put them in this morning, and Neville’s shirt and shorts look rather damp for such a bright and sunny day. All four are fast asleep.
With a small smile, Luna notes one limb is still unoccupied. But not for long, she thinks to herself, her smile widening as she glances down at her presently flat stomach, then back to her dozing family that is going to be increased by one more by this time next year.
She can’t wait to tell Neville the glorious news, and really, he rightfully should have been the first to know, but she just couldn’t resist stopping by and letting Frank and Alice know that they are going to become grandparents again. Biting her lower lip, Luna debates whether or not to wake her husband up. She really can’t wait to tell him, but she figures she can hold off just long enough for him to finish his nap. After all, she decides, he looks as if he’s earned it.