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Professor Neville Longbottom (profplant) wrote in silverage,

Neville woke up frowning. He looked at the calender by his bed, sighing deeply. It was his twenty-seventh birthday, but he wouldn't be born- he wouldn't even be conceived for another fifteen years. This was insane. He shook his head, getting out of bed. He looked through the wardrobe, struggling with the muggle clothing. The trousers were easy enough, but the shirts had so many buttons, it was too complicated.

He made his way to the bulletin boards, checking to see if anyone had responded to his request for work, then talked to Millie about help wanted adverts. He couldn't stay here forever, and he wanted to find his own feet. There was always Galen's ship, if it didn't work out- good man, Galen. He still wanted to try. He'd spent too much of his life dependent on others.

Settling into a seat in the cafeteria, he continued to look around, hopeing to spot her. Lily Potter. No, Evans. He guess she'd look a bit like Harry, around the eyes at least. That's what everyone said, that Harry had Lily's eyes. He saw a redhead enter the cafeteria and stood up, wringing his hands. He waved a bit hoping he had the right woman, and smiled with relief when she didn't look as if he had two heads.