Single parent
“Albrecht, Hydrangea!”
Neville nearly choked on his gulp of butterbeer at the sight of a little girl hopping forward who looked like the exact replica of his longest and most hidden crush. Her short black hair shone briefly before it was engulfed in the ratty material of the Sorting Hat, and she sat for what he considered to be an oddly long amount of time given who he suspected was her mother. Legs kicked in anticipation, patent leather shoes impeccably clean.
“Gryyyyyyfindor!”
This time the tabletop in front of him was his target, his next mouthful of liquid spat across its surface at the hat’s proclamation. His fellow teachers tutted and fussed over him.
“Neville, are you quite alright?” Asked Cho, who taught Flying after Madam Hooch retired a handful of years prior. She patted his back in concern as he nodded weakly in response.
“Bloody hell, Longbottom, you almost ruined the pasties.” This time it was Malfoy who spoke up, just before he floated the plate with said pasties out of reach so he could take a couple.
“S-sorry. I was just surprised…is that Pansy’s daughter?”
Malfoy glanced over to where Neville jerked his head and followed the girl’s skip towards the red and gold-bedecked table.
“Yeah, that’s little Hydrangea. Pans is going to flip out when she hears.” He barked out a sharp laugh and nodded back at the children who waved his way. Malfoy’s son, Scorpius, sat with the rest of the lions despite his own house affiliation, and cleared a spot next to him for Hydrangea to take a seat.
“It’s nice to see some inter-house friendships forming so young,” Neville mused, eyes still on the children. He considered them fortunate to grow up in circles that no longer held to the traditional separation of families and houses.
There were still exceptions, of course. Some refused to move on from their prejudices, opting to avoid affiliation as much as possible. Oddly enough, the ones he could think of came from those who had remained neutral during the war, like the Zabini and Greengrass families. They were in the minority, though, as more recognizable names like the Malfoys, Notts, Bulstrodes, and even Goyles sought not only amends with Muggle-borns, but friendships and marriages.
Neville recalled the shock that had rocked the wizarding community once news broke of Malfoy and Hermione’s relationship. It had easily eclipsed Harry and Theo’s elopement only a few months prior.
“We only had to bleed a little to make it happen,” Malfoy muttered darkly, taking a savage bite out of his pasty. “Don’t go playing favorites with Gea, by the way. She’s every bit as manipulative as her mother.”
Neville swallowed hard and tried to maintain a neutral expression. “What do you mean? Why would I play favorites?”
“One, I know you’ve always held a torch for Pans—”
“Now wait a minute—”
“Two, you can’t help but have a soft spot for anyone with a flower for a name—”
“Malfoy—”
“Three, with Pans recently divorced, becoming her kid’s favorite teacher obviously gives you an in.”
Divorce?
Malfoy rolled his eyes when he noticed his fellow professor’s open mouth. “Don’t you read the Prophet?”
“I’ve been a little busy preparing the greenhouses for the school year.” Neville had indeed neglected to keep up with the news for at least the past handful of months. Truth be told, he hadn’t paid any mind to the headlines since they’d hounded him over his own recent divorce with Hannah. Speaking of…
His eyes slid over to his ex-wife where she sat between Hagrid and Headmaster McGonagall. Their separation hadn’t been terrible, but they still avoided one another whenever possible. Now that she was Matron of Hogwarts’ infirmary, he had to be extra careful to not get injured dealing with the school’s many dangerous plants.
“Yes, well, Pans is coming up this weekend to visit. You should join us for dinner Friday night.”
Malfoy invited him as casually as asking him to take a flight around the Quidditch pitch, or discussing plant specimens for his Potions class.
“If you don’t want me playing favorites with Hydrangea, why would you invite me to dinner?”
Again, Malfoy rolled his eyes and Neville was tempted to hex him so they’d stay that way. He’d have to ask Hermione later how she dealt with him like this.
“I don’t have anything against you shagging her, just with spoiling her daughter. Trust me, you do not want to find yourself wrapped around Gea’s finger—she’d make your class a living hell.”
Neville could feel the heat rising up his neck and filling his cheeks. “Should you really be talking about your friend like that? I’m not going to shag her—”
“Oh, you’re not?”
“I mean, I’d like to eventually, but—”
“There you go, Longbottom. Pansy likes honesty, so you should just keep being the open book that you are.”
Neville bit his lip as he considered the idea of joining them. There was no rule preventing teachers from relationships with student parents. Neither of them were married any longer. Perhaps this was his chance to do what he’d wanted to since he’d first met Pansy Parkinson.
“Okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’ll be there.”
Grinning in that infuriatingly smug way of his, Malfoy thumped him on the back. “I’ll send Mivvy your way earlier in the evening to help you get ready.”
At Neville’s look of confusion, the git had the gall to arch a brow and wave towards his clothing.
“We’re talking about Pansy. Appearances are kind of her obsession. You could at least put a little effort in to catch her attention. You can wow her with your no-doubt fantastic personality afterward.”
Neville glanced down at his robes, the hem still slightly stained from the mud he’d siphoned off them earlier.
“You should keep the fragrance, though. She’ll love that,” Malfoy continued.
“Fragrance? What fragrance?” Neville was baffled. He never wore colognes since heavy scents often clashed with sensitive plants. Malfoy should know that, often working with Potions that required just as much careful handling.
“I meant your natural fragrance, Longbottom. Just…make sure to put in some hours at the greenhouse, alright? Don’t bother taking a full shower before dinner. Mivvy will take care of the rest.”
Neville tried to surreptitiously sniff at his sleeve to get a whiff of whatever Malfoy was talking about. All he smelled was moist earth and the remainder of the mint he’d clipped for tonight’s tea. Dirt and herbs?
“…sure.”
Certain that the agenda was set, Malfoy returned to his meal with relish while Neville glanced back over at Pansy’s daughter, who now seemed to be the center of attention as she waved her arms dramatically in the air while she spoke. He could already see some of the nearby boys were entranced in her story, much like he had been all those years ago when another little girl with straight black hair described her family’s gardens in detail.
Maybe he could offer Pansy a potted plant as a peace offering, in addition to whatever Mivvy would do to him.
Pansies?
Too on the nose.
Hydrangeas?
He shuddered. That just seemed creepy.
Neville’s eyes locked onto the teapot that sat nearby, steam curling out of the spout towards him.
Mint. He could give her mint to use however she liked, in her tea, or infused in a pitcher of water, or perhaps baked into a dessert.
His mind made up, Neville dived back into this dinner. He didn’t notice the way Draco Malfoy smirked in his direction, or the tiny glances Hydrangea sent his way, curious about the Herbology professor her mother suspected would be her favorite. His thoughts were filled with pansies and mint and childhood dreams coming true.