Harry Potter One Shots (Vol. I)

Something Kind of Magical (Neville Longbottom)

I feel the need to give a little note at the beginning of this one - this sort of sprung to mind when I pondered over the fact that 12 Grimwauld Place is technically situated in muggle London but the Blacks charmed it so that muggles couldn't see the house. And what if the Longbottoms had a home in muggle England but, because they're not prejudiced, they had no such wards put in place?  

That being said, I hope you enjoy the one shot. 

Summer was for visiting my grandmother – it always had been. Even now, at 18, it was still the same. I had arrived last night, tugging my suitcase behind me and ready to occupy her spare room for the next couple of weeks until I packed to head off to university.

"Is anyone in?" a masculine voice called out. I furrowed my eyebrows slightly; that voice sounded awfully familiar but I couldn't quite place where I had heard it.

Heading towards the front door, I was greeted by the sight of a man who was standing rather awkwardly on the doorstep. I cleared my throat, not letting myself get thrown by how handsome the man was – he was a stranger who had decided it was perfectly alright for him to walk into my grandmother's home. I had told grandma a countless number of times that just because you lived in the countryside, it didn't mean that it was alright for her to leave her front door unlocked. But the stubborn woman never listened, claiming that everyone in the small village knew her and knew not to cross her.

"Can I help you?" I asked, crossing my arms as I assessed the admittedly handsome stranger, eyes trailing calculating up and down his form.

"I'm looking for Mrs Taylor?" he trailed off, raising his eyes to mine and his eyes widened slightly in surprise. My name left his lips, startling me. "Is that you?"

"How do you know –"

"Neville, my dear," I heard grandma call as she walked in from the garden, instantly making her way to the front door. She embraced the stranger, or perhaps, the not so unfamiliar man. "I'm glad your grandmother sent you over."

"She said you needed some help," he explained, eyes drifting over towards me as he spoke.

Grandma looked between the two of us with a mysterious smile. "Why don't leave you two to catch up?" She patted my cheek as she headed further inside the house and called from over her shoulder, "Come and find me when you're finished."

"I thought you needed his help," I protested, not quite able to wrap my head around the fact that this man was Neville Longbottom of all people.

"It can wait."

"Right," I agreed, looking back to Neville and gesturing for him to come in. "Would you like some tea or something?"

"That would be great." He cleared his throat, following me as I headed into the kitchen. "I feel like I haven't seen you in ages?"

"Grandma spent the last couple of summers in my house," I explained, switching the kettle on as I moved around the kitchen. Neville leaned against the counter, watching me as I moved around the kitchen. Right, the tea. Clearing my throat, I said quietly, "I almost didn't recognise you."

"I have changed a bit," he said a little shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. "But I'm still me, still the same Neville."

"You're right, you are," I agreed, putting a tea bag into each of the cups and pouring the boiling water into them. He might have looked a little different, but his mannerisms were still the same. He was still the same old Neville. "Although," I eyed the healing scar on his forehead, "I am a little curious about how you got that scar."