Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine.
Written for: 100 Quills

Title: The Spirit of Mim (Parts 7-9)
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



.007. Chains
The old wives tale that burying rusted chains around the roots of a Mimbulous will keep it from walking away at night are, of course, ridiculous. Further, the rust will affect the ph level of the soil, which is not recommended.

The ceremony was not as private as he would have liked. Aware that Shineboot ... not to mention the rest of the wizarding world..... up to and including Rita Skeeter.... and all the way down to his few remaining friends.... would be on the lookout for any sign that he was less than the ecstatic groomsman, Neville had made sure that there had been an intimate guest list and some indication of celebration. Sadly, as this had included Ron, Harry, and Hermione, Mrs. Weasley was soon in the loop, and so the small office at the Ministry had been dripping in white crepe paper and doves folded out of glittery tissue, and several tables had had to be brought in to accommodate the food.

At least people were used to him being shy and nervous. He'd pitied Hannah, who'd had to keep a radiant smile plastered to her face the entire time. He suspected she'd used a cheering charm, but hadn't called her on it. Together they'd put up their little front, endured Bill and Charlie making jokes about the chains of matrimony, laughed at the inappropriate gifts, and finally given their little show before the appropriate Ministry Official, a strange little witch dressed in maroon ruffles who drawled out every couple of words so that Neville felt mesmerized and drowsy by the time she got to the actual exchange of declarations.

Neville had found this more difficult than he'd expected. It was all, of course, a lie, though they had chosen the least romantic of vows, and the parts about protecting each other and so forth were certainly true enough. "Love no other" he felt he could also reasonably aver, and the part about his magic always for and never against his mate he could also promise with complete confidence.

In the end, it all came down to the kiss, and if it wasn't the most passionate osculation the world had ever seen, well, no one expected more from him, surely, and most of it was hidden behind Hannah's newly curled hair and gauzy hat with the white polka dots. Afterward she rested her blue-gloved hand on his arm, as if to steady him, and he hoped he wasn't as pale as he felt.

They departed early, leaving the guests to carry on with their small party. There were a few jokes about 'being eager to start the honeymoon' but Hannah merely smiled and ignored them as she hugged Hermione and Mrs. Weasley good-bye.

Then for the second time, her hand came to rest on his arm. "Apparate us home, then, dear?" she'd asked sweetly.

Neville was just grateful he got them both to the lobby of the Leaky without splinching anything.

.................................

008. Miracle.

The fact that the Mimbulus Mimbletonia exists in present day and age is attributed to neither miracle nor chance, but the hard work of one dedicated Herbologist, and the adventurous great-uncle of same.

Hannah strode across the lobby, plucking pins out of her hair and freeing her hat from the stiff curls. "Well, that was fun," she said dryly.

"It's done, though," he said simply. "We did it."

"We did."

He watched her toss the hat on a table and drop her gloves on top of it. "I take it we're not going to open?"

"On our honeymoon? Are you mad? We have enough money now that a night or two closed won't break us." She kicked off her azure shoes and started up the creaking stairs. She paused to glance over her shoulder. "Are you coming?"

For a moment he wondered if perhaps she were suggesting they really give this marriage thing a go, but then he realized it would look odd if the downstairs lights were on, or if Siphy came in and found him drinking a firewhiskey alone in the lobby.

He followed Hannah... his wife... he tried to wrap his brain around that concept without a whole lot of success.... up the stairs to their two rooms. They had put in an adjoining door, telling Siphy and anyone else who came to visit that they were combining the two to give themselves more space. In truth, once Neville was on his side, and Hannah on hers, that little door was to be closed.

And indeed it was, after a "Good night, Neville," from Hannah, and followed by a click of a key in a lock.

Neville sat down in his chair by the window without bothering to remove his dress robes. By dint of long habit, he looked over to check on Mim.

He could hardly believe his eyes.

There was a small pink flower bud forming at the top of her uppermost limb.

A flower. On the Mimbulus Mimbletonia.

It was a miracle.

..................................

.009. Justice.

As it is well-documented that the Mimbulous will, in fact, defend itself under provocation, to be so sprayed after harrassment of its appendages is only justice.

Neville felt a cold thrill of vindication as he opened the envelope from Shineboot's hulking owl and discovered his house keys, plus the ream of documents necessary to becoming a very wealthy man.

Hannah regarded him from across the breakfast table, chin propped up on her hand, the glint of her wedding ring conspicuous beside her ear. "What are you going to do with the place?" she asked tiredly.

He snorted. "Move there after we have we have our big public messy divorce, I guess."

"After I catch you in bed with some tart and throw you out, you mean," she returned, a faint smile touching the corner of her lips.

"Hey! What's wrong with irreconcilable differences?"

"What, and be painted as a fishwife who can't get along with the most docile man in town? How would I ever find another husband?"

"Like I'd find another wife branded a philanderer!"

They both laughed, but perhaps a bit less loudly than they might have done last week, before everything had become less hypothetical and more real.

Neville was not regretting their decision, particularly not with the rights to his family estate squarely back in his hand, which he felt to be only fair justice, but he was willing to admit he might not have appreciated the full effect a marriage of convenience would have on his life.

He looked up at Hannah, she looked exhausted by the charade all ready.

"I have to go to work," he said suddenly, abruptly seized by the urgent desire to get back to Hogwarts and weed something.

"You didn't eat your breakfast."

Neville tossed a preserving spell on his plate and tucked a napkin over it before sliding it in his work bag. "I'll have it for lunch."

"Wait! I thought we could meet somewhere and talk about hiring a new cook for the Cauldron!"

Neville had already stepped into the Floo as she'd begun her protest. He registered most of it, but it was easier to pretend he hadn't heard.