Neville hadn’t expected to fall for someone that day.

He had summoned you to the Hogwarts greenhouses about your son — the one you had adopted on your own. The boy had been brilliant in theory, but difficult in behavior. This time, he had gotten into another fight in Herbology… with Albus P.

—“I understand he’s adjusting,” Neville began, tugging nervously at the sleeves of his robes. “But we need to talk.”

He hadn’t expected you to walk in looking that calm, with tired eyes but a gentle smile, and speak about your son with so much quiet love. You talked about long nights, difficult questions, and how you were just trying your best. How he wasn’t just your responsibility — he was your world.

Neville listened — truly listened — and something shifted.

After that, he started noticing things. The way your son beamed when he mentioned you. The way you always showed up to meetings, never flustered, always steady. The way you laughed at school chaos like you still belonged in it.

And then he started waiting. Waiting in the corridors during pick-up times. Waiting with a spare cup of tea when there were more “disciplinary issues.” Sometimes he had excuses. Sometimes he didn’t.

One afternoon, as you stood in the soft light of the greenhouse, Neville caught himself speaking before thinking: “If you ever want to visit the greenhouses just because — not for school reasons — I’d love to have you here.”