1 September 2017

I. Neville

6 a.m.

Neville and Hannah's alarm clock went off promptly at six o'clock in the morning. Neville groaned and reached out to bang his fist on top of it without opening his eyes.

"I should get up," Hannah said sleepily, barely stirring from where she was nestled comfortably in her husband's arms. "Train's going out today—the pub will be a madhouse."

"Yeah, the train's coming in today," Neville murmured, resting his cheek against Hannah's soft curtain of gingery-gold hair. "The school will be a madhouse, too."

There was a small pause, and Neville felt Hannah burrow slightly deeper into his embrace. His lips twitched.

"It's lovely here though," Hannah sighed.

"Mm-hmm. So very lovely."

"Maybe," Hannah tucked her head against Neville's chest, and he bit his lip to hide his grin, "we could stay here, just a little longer?"

"Hmm. I suppose a few more minutes won't kill us."

"Or maybe," Hannah whispered again, and there was a mischievous note in her voice now that caused a familiar heat to creep up Neville's cheeks, even after more than a decade of marriage, "we could stay here for…more than just a few minutes?"

"Hannah," Neville laughed, running his fingers through her long blond hair. "I swear, you're going to be the death of me."

"Shut up and kiss me, Longbottom."

Grinning, Neville shook his head and leaned down, blissfully breathing in the familiar scent of cinnamon, sandalwood, and warmth as he pressed his lips to Hannah's—

BANG.

"Breakfast time!" squealed a familiar singsong voice.

Neville groaned against Hannah's lips, rolling away from her, as a blur of blond hair and pink pajamas shot through the bedroom door—which was still rattling in its hinges. Hannah burst into laughter and sat up against the headboard, opening her arms to gather their seven-year-old daughter into a tight hug as she bounded onto the bed.

"Ellie," Neville grumbled, cracking one eye open to give his daughter a look of mock-annoyance. "It's polite to knock before entering a room."

"Come on, Dad, when has Ellie ever been polite?"

Neville turned back towards the doorway to find his elder daughter, nearly ten years old, slumped against the frame, rubbing her eyes with an irritated look on her face.

"She woke me up at five-thirty," Alice complained. "Five-thirty—just to help her squeeze the last of the toothpaste out of the tube!"

"A job for heroes," Neville told Alice in a serious voice. She rolled her eyes.

"All right, girls, let's get you both to the kitchen," Hannah chimed in, climbing out of bed with Ellie swinging from her hand. "Go wash up, Alice—and stop pouting, young lady, or your face will be stuck that way…"

Neville chuckled, watching Hannah corral their daughters—Ellie humming and Alice grumbling—out of the bedroom. Then, with a sigh, he fell back against his pillows and closed his eyes with a smile on his face.

Forty-five minutes later, Neville arrived at the kitchen of the private flat that he and Hannah had shared above the Leaky Cauldron for nearly fifteen years, freshly showered and dressed in his best professor's robes—the ones he only wore when he wasn't tinkering about in the greenhouses. As he made his way to the kitchen table, he was greeted by the heavenly scent of Hannah's finest bacon and eggs.

"I've got a plate ready for you," Hannah told Neville, swooping over from the stove to set a platter of breakfast down in front of him. "I knew you'd be late."

"I'm not late—I've still got fifteen minutes," Neville protested, picking up his fork. But then, he smiled and kissed her cheek. "Thanks, love."

"Eurgh," Ellie declared, wrinkling her nose across the table. "Why are you two always kissing?"

Hannah laughed, ruffling Ellie's hair as she walked back to the stove. "You'll be singing a different tune one day, miss."

"But not for a while," Neville put in quickly. "Boys are icky, Elisabeth. Remember that."

"I don't like boys," Alice muttered, swallowing a spoonful of cornflakes and scowling. "I've no idea how Lily lives with two brothers. James is the worst."

"Al, that's not nice," Hannah chided from the stove, shooting Alice a disapproving look. But Neville winked at Alice.

"He's a git, isn't he?" he whispered. Alice grinned.

"Daddy, will you come home before bedtime tonight?" Ellie asked, her golden curls bouncing about her face as she leaned across the table towards Neville, beaming hopefully. "Gran's coming over for dinner—she's going to teach me and Alice how to crochet!" Neville's grandmother had long-insisted that both her great-granddaughters call her "Gran," determined to be the grandparent that neither girl would otherwise have.

"I'm sorry, ladybug, but I've got to stay at the castle tonight," Neville told Ellie apologetically. "It's the feast."

Ellie's face fell, and Neville's heart gave a twinge.

"I'll be home tomorrow," Neville promised, looking from Ellie to Alice. "You've got me to yourselves all weekend, both of you."

"Will you be home for my birthday this year, Dad?" Alice asked casually—but there was a note of real longing in her voice that made Neville's heart ache. Alice's birthday in October always managed to fall right around the time that both midterm exams and the Quidditch season started up, and as hard as Neville tried not to, he often ended up stuck at Hogwarts until late in the evening.

"I'll be there, Al," Neville said firmly, reaching across the table and squeezing her hand. "You can count on it."

Alice flashed him a brilliant smile.

"All right, that's enough chitchat," Hannah announced, sweeping over from the stove and flicking her wand at Alice's and Ellie's empty bowls; they soared off to the sink. "Go upstairs and get changed, both of you. The pub's going to be busy today, and I need you two to help Dinah clean the tables. Come on, chop chop—say goodbye to your dad!"

Four little arms seized Neville about the middle in a tight hug—and then, the pair of blond sisters hurried out of the kitchen and towards the stairs, chattering loudly.

Neville sighed, pushing his chair back and standing up. He waved his wand at his own plate, and it sailed away to join his daughters' in the sink. Then, he looked at Hannah with a sad smile. "Well, I'd best be off."

Hannah nodded, tucking her wand into her apron and following Neville to the doorway. "I'll walk you to the fireplace."

Neville led the way into the sitting room, where he grabbed his traveling cloak from the hook near the mantelpiece and swung it around his shoulders. Without missing a beat, Hannah reached up to fasten the buttons.

"D'you really think you'll be able to make it home for Alice's birthday?" Hannah asked him quietly, as she finished the last button and placed her hands on his chest to smooth out the cloak's material.

Neville looked at her, swallowing. "I have to," he said in a low voice. "I can't miss it again. I…I'll figure something out—I'm sure Hestia or Adrian can take care of my students for one day."

Hannah smiled at him, moving her hands to link them around Neville's neck. "You're a good dad, Neville," she murmured, embracing him. "I'll miss you."

"You know where to find me, Han," Neville said softly, kissing the top of her head. "I'm only a fireplace away."

"Oh, I know," Hannah sighed, stepping back and allowing Neville to grab a fistful of Floo powder from the mantel. "But I'll still miss you."

Neville smiled at her, feeling a lump emerge in his throat. "I'll miss you, too."

He flung the Floo powder into the fireplace, and the flames turned emerald green and roared, growing higher, as Neville began to step into them—

"Neville—wait."

Neville drew back and turned around. "What—?"

"I've been thinking about this for a few weeks, now," Hannah said in a rush, stepping towards him. "And—and I really wanted to tell you, but I wasn't sure how to bring it up—or how I even felt about it, to be honest—but I—I think I know what I want, now, and—"

"Hannah," Neville interrupted, blinking rapidly. "What are you talking about?"

Hannah looked at him for a moment, biting her lip. Then, she took a deep breath.

"In four years, both of the girls will be at Hogwarts with you," Hannah said softly.

Neville frowned. "Er—yes…that's right."

"Well," Hannah said slowly, "a couple weeks ago, I had a cup of tea with Alicia Spinnet—Jordan, I mean—and she…she told me that Madam Pomfrey is set to retire in 2021. She's got some family in France, apparently, and she wants a change of scenery."

Neville rolled her eyes. "Poppy's been threatening retirement for years. She's been at Hogwarts almost as long as Minerva, I reckon."

"Yes, but this time, she's serious," Hannah said. "She's asked Alicia to be her replacement."

"Oh," Neville blinked. "Well, that's—wonderful. For both of them."

"The thing is, Alicia isn't sure she can do it," Hannah said. "She's working pretty easy hours at St. Mungo's right now, and Hogwarts is so far away from where she and Lee live in London—and Lee's always traveling for work, and you know they've got a daughter, too, about Ellie's age—"

"So she isn't taking the job?"

"No, she is."

"But," Neville shook his head, feeling more confused than ever, "you just said she doesn't think she can—"

"She doesn't think she can do it on her own," Hannah said. "That's why she's asked me to do it with her."

Neville stared at Hannah, slightly openmouthed.

"We'd each work three-and-a-half days a week," Hannah whispered. "So, we'd each only make half the salary—but it doesn't matter, since I've got the Cauldron as well." She paused, swallowing as she met Neville's eyes. "I just—I thought—well, I always wanted to be a Healer—I retrained and everything—and the pub was the only thing holding me back, but let's face it, the place practically runs itself, now—and with Alicia's offer, I can actually do both—"

"Hannah," Neville croaked, stepping forward and grasping her shoulders. "Are you—I mean, did you—Hogwarts—?"

"I haven't said yes officially," Hannah said, smiling at him as she blinked back tears. "But I want to. Neville, I…it's—so hard, being without you—and with the girls gone in four years, I don't think I could go even a day without seeing you. I—I love you."

Neville shook his head slowly, then wrapped his arms around his wife, seizing her in a passionate kiss. Hannah gasped, but then laughed, melting into his embrace. Seconds slipped into minutes. Time ceased to exist. And when Neville finally pulled back, breathing heavily, the look on Hannah's face caused his heart to swell with a fierce rush of emotion, warming his entire body.

"I love you, too," he said hoarsely. "So much."

Hannah wiped a few tears from the corners of her eyes. Then, suddenly, she let out a strangled cry of shock, as her gaze fell on the odd, little cuckoo clock above the mantel, a gift from Neville's great uncle Algie. "Neville, it's nearly seven-thirty!" she cried, seizing another fistful of Floo powder from its box and hurling it into the flames. "Oh, this is all my fault," she lamented, practically railroading Neville into the fireplace. "You're going to be so late—!"

"Han," Neville reached an arm out of the flames and took her hand, squeezing it. "Trust me. It was worth it."

Hannah beamed.

Author's Note:

In celebration of six years and fifty stories on FanFiction, I present to you 'Golden,' a collection of six parts of the day that we last saw Harry Potter in the books, and realized that "all was well." There's going to be six chapters, published daily, focusing on six different characters as they maneuver this very important date in history.

I'm going to save my long, cheesy, emotional speech for the last chapter, but tl;dr: thank you so very much to my wonderful readers/supporters for indulging my love for writing and magic. You're all wizards.

Much love,
Ari