InsaneJournal

The Spirit of Mim (Parts 4 - 6)
Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine.
Written for: 100quills

Title: The Spirit of Mim (Parts 4 - 6)
Characters: Neville/Hannah, Harry, Luna, and the Mimbulous Mimbletonia
Rating: R
Warnings: can't say without revealing plot, but assume a possibility of slash, femmeslash, or het, just to cover everything.
Summary: It's ridiculous for a woman to be jealous of a plant. Isn't it?
Prompt Table: http://lionille.insanejournal.com/6921.html



.004.Foreign.
It is best to retain familiar surroundings insofar as is possible. Upheaval and drastic changes in climate or environment are not generally recommended.

Neville looked around the gray room in something that might have been despair if he’d been feeling much of anything at all. He set his valise on the floor beside the door, and stood there holding his Mimbulous Mimbletonia. It was the only thing he’d brought from the greenhouses back home, the house elves were now entrusted with the rest. For the next forty years.

Hannah was peering around him into the room anxiously. “It’s a bit grim, I know. I haven’t been able to afford modifications yet, but someday I’d like to paint and put in new carpet and By Helga, the blankets are hideous…”

“It’s fine, Hannah,” he interrupted her. “It’s mine, and that’s what counts. Well,” he amended, turning to look at her. “It’s yours, but I’m paying my way.”

“Yes, you are. Too much so. Honestly, Neville, seventy-five percent of the rooms are empty, you could live here for free and it wouldn’t much matter.”

“You have to think like a businesswoman and not be so nice, Hannah. If there are only a few paying customers, you have to charge more, not less.”

“You’re my friend,” she insisted stubbornly.

“Your very broke friend, I know.” Neville twisted his lips wryly and moved over to the window. It was all bustle and noise and smoke down below. He felt like he was in a foreign country.

He set the Mimbulous carefully on the narrow windowsill. “I don’t want the maid knocking it over,” he said.

“I’ll tell her to be careful when she’s in here.”

“Actually, Hannah, I’d just as soon look after the place myself. If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. I’ll tell Siphy to stay out.”

“Thank you.”

“Will you be coming down for some breakfast?”

“No, I don’t think so. I’m just going to sit here a while. Settle in, you know?”

“All right.” She bit her lip. “If you change your mind…” After a moment or two she left, pulling the door behind her with a thud.

Neville sat down in the chair by the window, where he remained for three and a half hours.


.005.Refusal.
Should you encounter refusal to root, bloom, or thrive, re-evaluate conditions immediately.

“I can’t believe she’s done something like this, it’s outrageous!” Hermione brushed her hair back and took a heated sip of her beverage.

“She was free to do as she pleased,” Neville returned, pretending to be calm as he scanned the page of the Daily Prophet. “As was I.”

“You know, mate, you could just go and find yourself a nice little bird to settle down with,” Ron pointed out, fishing a pretzel out of the bowl. “With that amount of money on the table you shouldn’t have any trouble attracting enough to pick from.”

“Ronald, that is disgusting.” Hermione speared a toothpick through an olive in a rather dangerous looking manner.

“What? Word’s all ready out. I’m just saying.” Ron chuckled. “Who’d’ve thought our Neville here would turn out to be the Wizarding World’s Most Eligible Bachelor?”

“It’s the principle of it,” Neville returned angrily, snapping a page of the Daily Prophet over so hard he almost tore it. “I wasn’t interested in marriage before, and I’m not now, and even if I had been I’d rather … jump off the Blackpool pier!”

“Well,” Hermione began, more gently. “Let’s not go cutting off our nose to spite our face, Neville. The woman is dead, it’s not like you have anything to gain by ruining your life just to prove a point. If you were to find someone who made you happy…”

“Yeah, there’s been such a parade of those,” he said bitterly. He stood up and folded the paper and tucked it under his arm. “Nice to see you both. Ron, give my regards to your sister.”

He strode up the stairs, appalled at himself. To speak of Ginny with such open contempt, to be so rude to his friends. Hopefully they would chalk it up to grief and be gracious enough to pretend it never happened. Their next meeting was bound to be awkward, though, and with Ginny and Harry getting married in four months there was sure to be a lot of errands in Diagon.

He let himself into the room. The first thing he noticed was that in only three days the window had grimed up so much it interfered with light transfer. The Mimbulous was looking wan.

He threw the paper on the bed and crossed over to the plant. “Sorry, Mim,” he murmured, taking out his handkerchief and wetting it from the pitcher on the bed stand. He scrubbed a little clear circle free of dirt, then pushed the window up and cleaned the outside of the pane as well. The noise of trestle cars and people shouting was a far cry from the soft music of birds and the wind stirring through the silver elms outside his bedroom window at home. Home. Not his home, after all, he corrected himself. A place he’d lived. Although another part, the angry part that he was trying less and less successfully to keep hidden, whispered that it was his home, dead to rights. He was the heir. And besides that, he’d earned it. Earned every brick with every hour of care and company he’d spent tending to Augusta Longbottom. While his friends had been out enjoying their youth, and yes, even their fame in a brand new world, he’d been leading a quiet, obedient life, doing his best by his elders and his employers. And it had led to this. An assistant’s position with a nearly token salary, and a dirty, miserable room in a dirty, miserable inn.

He slammed the window sash down, and threw a Silencing charm up to deafen the racket. If only he could shut up what was clamoring inside his head so easily.


.006.Impromptu.
Resist the urge to indulge in impromptu actions regarding care. Rarely must decisions be made in haste, and a little consideration will stand one in good stead. Keep in mind the adage of ‘act in haste, repent in leisure.’

“I don’t blame you, you know. Wanting to keep your freedom. I feel exactly the same way. Though it’s hard, running this place alone.” Hannah was propped against the bar, idling drawing circles with the rag that seemed to be permanently fused to her hand. She had closed the place twenty minutes ago, and Neville had been collecting glasses off the tables since Siphy had gone home early with an ague. Despite a long day at Hogwarts, he felt obliged to help her around the place when he could. She was wearing a kerchief over her head, a blue gingham triangle tied at the nape, and her long yellow ponytail trailed out over the mahogany surface she was polishing.

“Still,” she went on. “I never wanted to marry. Can’t say why, really. I mean, I assumed the right person would come along and I’d feel the right things, but it never happened. All I’ve ever seen of marriages is people bickering and pulling at cross purposes.”

“Mm,” Neville remarked, carrying the tray of dishes towards the kitchen. When he came back, Hannah was still rubbing at the same spot. The fact she looked so depressed finally penetrated his own mental fog.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, laying a hand on her back.

“I feel like such a failure!” she blurted out. “Receipts are way down. I had so many plans, but I can’t implement them. I had an idea for serving better food… coffees, pies… and redecorating the rooms, but I don’t know what I’m doing. All the old regulars who used to come because of Old Tom aren’t around much, and current clientele are going to Fortescue’s and Dilly’s.”

“Have you tried a loan from Gringott’s?”

Hannah snorted. “Have you ever seen a goblin laugh?”

“I’m sorry, Hannah. If I had the money, I’d lend it to you.”

“I know you would, Neville. I’m sorry to burden you further with all this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, that’s what friends….” Neville trailed off. He huffed a little, lip twisting upward.

“What?” Hannah nudged, reaching up to wipe her damp eyes.

“You know what we ought to do? We ought to marry each other. We could be business partners, really, but no one has to know that. You could make your improvements with my money, I’ll take a share of profits. We can get the marriage part dissolved later, I don’t think there was anything in the will that said I had to stay married.”

Hannah’s eyes were round, like sky-colored marbles. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why not? Everyone wants to manipulate us, I say we do a little manipulating of our own.”

“It’s so… Slytherin.”

Neville snorted. “I’m ready to try a little ambition, myself. What about you?”

Hannah looked worried and unsure. “I don’t know, Neville, as plans go… it’s a little drastic. It’s a little crazy.”

“And your objection is?”

Hannah stared up at him. “We should talk about it, Neville. See a solicitor…”

“Shineboot?” Neville almost shouted. “He’s been full of helpful suggestions…”

“He’s not the only one in the world…”

“If it gets out we’re only doing this as an arrangement it might render my claim to the house void. I say we shut up, play the part, keep our business to ourselves for a change!”

“People already think I beguiled Tom into leaving me this place, I hate to think what they’re going to say when I become wife of the Longbottom heir…”

“Who cares? Who cares what anybody thinks? I want what belongs to me! I want what’s rightfully mine!”

Hannah was silent a long moment, then she set the rag aside, and laid her hand on Neville’s shoulder. “All right, Neville,” she said quietly. “Let’s do it.”