And She's Everything He Ever Wanted...

Neville loved all his grandchildren, even if they were not children anymore, and most of them had given them great-grandchildren of their own.

Sigal Longbottom, of all the grandchildren, was the one who looked the most like his wife with her raven hair. Even if her eyes were brown and not blue. Oh, and a Hufflepuff.

Neville still remembered the face of his wife when the owl came with the news. Of their 6 grandchildren, Sigal had been the only Hufflepuff. Two Slytherins, Two Ravenclaws, One Gryffindor and One Hufflepuff.

And she was a writer. Since she was a little girl she had been a storyteller. And now she wanted to tell the story of her family, of her grandparents.

"I'm sorry to tell you, dearest, but that's a foolish idea, Siggie, even for a Hufflepuff," Pansy told their 25-year-old granddaughter.

The soft brown eyes turned to Neville, pleading, and he just gave her a smile. He kissed Pansy's shoulder, the gesture making Pansy turn to him. "They have a right to know. They're not babies anymore, we cannot keep protecting them, Pans, not from knowledge at least."

"Of course, we can, we are their grandparents. It's our duty to love and spoil them, not scare them," she said.

"It's been 60 years since the war, my favourite flower..." He whispered, his thumb moving inside her cashmere jumper, stroking her left forearm.

"You can't sweet talk me into this, Nebbie. All is well now, they don't live in fear or fright, don't live in pressure or prejudice, they're free and happy and peaceful. They will never know-"

"Grandma... You raised me... I spent almost as much time here as at home with mum, dad, and papa. Do you think I didn't notice the nightmares? How either you or grandpa would wake up to make chamomile tea at 3 in the morning?" Sigal said, leaning forward to take Pansy's hands between hers.

"Oh, sweetheart. I'm sorry you woke up with our nightmares..." Neville confessed, reaching forward to stroke Sigal's cheek with his thumb. "All is well... I and your grandma are well-"

"Not all is well, and it will never be... And that's okay. You two not only survived, but you also endured and kept enduring and loving your family. That's the story I want to tell, grandma. I'm so tired of the stories about how they lived happily ever after like nothing changed in their lives... I want to share the truth. How everything changed, but there's still love and happiness." She pleaded.

Neville could see how important it was for the young woman. He wondered how many years she had been thinking about telling this story. Asking them for this story. "You know your granddaughter, Pans... she would never publish something that you were not comfortable with." And then he leaned to kiss her cheek, taking the opportunity to murmur on her ear, so Sigal could not hear. "she's our little badger."

Pansy smirked at his last comment. She sighed, squeezing her granddaughter's hands. "If it will make you happy-"

"So happy, Grandma, Thank you!" She said letting go of Pansy hands and instead hugged her grandparents. "Don't tell the Weasleys or the Notts because they might be a little mad, and I should not play favourites. But I love you two so so so so much."

Neville saw his wife smirk. He could already imagine the owl she would send Theo. "We love you so much, sweetheart."

Sigal kissed both Neville and Pansy's cheeks, and when she pulled back there was already a little notebook and quill over her shoulder. "So... shall I come to visit every day or I can just move in for a few weeks while I research..." The Gryffindor saw his wife alarmed stare as she squeezed his hand.

Neville and Pansy loved their family deeply, two daughters, three sons-in-law, 6 grandchildren, 5 great-grandchildren plus two in the way. But with time passing through they had learned to enjoy more and more the quiet and the presence of each other in the little things.

They had their little routine. Like in the mornings, Neville would wake first and go work on the Greenhouse, and Pansy would later summon him to have breakfast together. And changing their wonderful pattern would be difficult, if Neville was being honest. They never had a 25-year-old living in the house, Violet and Valerie moved out before that.

The older man chuckled, stroking his short white beard, he summoned a silver box from the office just across the room. "There will be no need for you to move in, Siggie. Open it, sweetheart."

"This pensieve is very small, grandpa." She said, holding the little bowl with just one hand, it was no bigger than a soup bowl.

"Yes... it's an auditory pensieve... it plays the memories, but it's not images, it's just sound," he explained.

"Are these memories yours, grandpa?" She wondered "And why just what you heard instead of what you saw?"

"They're not mine... While I was in the Auror office, from 2005 to 2020, if for some reason, I could not hear your grandmother's segment on the wireless, I would have one of the trainees do it as an exercise. Focus and Interview in Memory Collecting" He explained.

Even if Pansy was no longer hosting 'The Blooming Motherhood', the children knew about it. "Your grandma spoke about the struggles not only from motherhood but how the war impacted her, impacted us... Don't expect it to be explicit. You will need to read between the lines." Neville explained, one hand playing with his wife's hair. She was strangely quiet. "I might have added some notes of my own that might help you."

"You took advantage of the new recruits, grandpa?"

"Oh, Neville Longbottom, you never told me that!" Pansy said, a huge smile on her face. "You leave all the other husbands in the dust."

"Do you have other husbands, my love?" He asked, an eyebrow raised.

"I do not... but if I did, they would never compare to you, Nebbie, my Neville. You're alone in your own league and I'm not sure anyone will ever reach it." She said, stroking his cheek.

Sigal coughed. "Thank you for the vials and the transcripts, grandpa. I will leave you two to whatever this is..." The Hufflepuff said, looking at her grandparents like she had never seen them before.

"It's called love, sweetheart," Neville said, his eyes focused on his wife. She was still so beautiful. He did not care about the little wrinkles, and the strands of hair that she charmed weekly to remain black. She was his. And she was everything that he ever wanted. "I love you, Mrs Longbottom."

"I love you, Mr Longbottom."