The discussion on the hpwriterschoice regarding Neville (and subsequently his Gran) made me try to take a more charitable look at the old lady than I have in the past. This fic is the result.
Disclaimer: The characters herein are not my creation nor are they my property. They are the sole creation of J.K. Rowling and are the property of Ms. Rowling, Scholastic Books and Warner Brothers.
Augusta understood the concept of duty very well; her life was ruled by this. Duty prescribed that she marry a man, a boy really, that her parent chose. Duty bound her to assist her husband in his endeavors, always playing the supporting role though her abilities far exceeded his. Duty required her to provide an heir. She met every demand made and then some. She assisted her husband and enabled him to believe that his success was his accomplishment alone. She, at least found some enjoyment in work, even if she was only acknowledged as an adjunct.
She took motherhood seriously, although she did not enjoy it. If the truth be told, she never expected to. Children did not particularly interest her, Frank least of all. He was a pleasant enough child she supposed, but he was lacking something. In time she could acknowledge what was lacking was a personality. Frank absorbed the traits of those around him, eager to be part of the group, to please regardless of the consequences. Augusta could see the danger of this all too clearly. She made it her business to constantly direct Frank to the right path, never letting up less he should back slide. It was she who arranged the match with Alice, she who tutored Frank during summers to that he could pass all the courses necessary to follow his friends as an Auror. It was she who helped Alice find a suitable house to start married life in.
With Frank safely married to Alice, her obligation was fulfilled. Alice, besides being inordinately competent, was a sweet natured woman who truly loved her son. Augusta looked forward to peace, such as it was in a time of way, and the ceremonial duties of eventually being a Grandmother. She could project what her life would be filled with quiet days of reading, tending to her husband and house, and a peaceful death in her sleep. Then something unexpected happened. Augusta, for the first and only time in her life, fell irrevocably and hopelessly in love.
It wasn’t supposed to happen, she had not wanted it. But Augusta was well schooled in bowing to the inevitable. From the first time she held him in her arms she found herself making promises, not from duty, but from need. I will take care of you. I will keep you safe.
She has failed twice so far. The first time was the night her son and his wife were tortured into insanity. She should have been there, she could have prevented it. She could have, at least, kept him from seeing it. As she held the toddler in her arms she began to plan. He would grow up not knowing his father or mother and a child needed both parents. So, she would make them strong in his mind. That was how it began. She told Neville stories of his father’s glory days at Hogwarts and as an Auror. She made him something more than she was, so that Neville would have a father to be proud of. So good was she at this that at times, for fleeting moments, she believed the lies herself. She would insist that he keep his father’s wand, one of the few tangible things he would have to hold on to.
The second failure was stupid and could have easily been avoided. Her husband, in his dotage, decided to take Neville flying. She forbade it, of course. The child was too young and her husband too reckless.. Still she allowed him to watch. He saw his grandfather showboating and fall. He was dead on impact. She has never forgiven herself for not shielding Neville from that. About that time as well, rumors began to swirl.
The Dark Lord was not really gone, and that he would come back. She began to steel herself for the inevitable, though it would mean losing the child’s love. She started pushing Neville to be everything she had made his father out to be. She would force him to become so strong that he could survive. She became shrewish and she knew it. Her heart contracted every time she saw Neville’s face fall at her harsh works, but still she continued. A bargain had been made inside of her. Save Neville and if the cost was his love, so be it.
If she could have kept him at home, she would have. But Hogwarts was the best school and could prepare him for what lay ahead in ways she never could. She ached with his loss and from the tales she heard through her friends. Tales of Neville being lonely, of being bullied made her weak with sorrow and full of rage, respectively. She told herself that he would grow from this, the way all children do. That was a lie she could not really make herself belief though.
The second year was somewhat better. The Potter boy had seemed to take a interest in her Grandson, standing up for him. She realized it would be a good idea to encourage that. If she built up Harry Potter in his eyes, he might stay close. Potter had survived an attack by Voldemort as a mere babe, surely there was protection in being close to him.
She preferred not to think about Neville’s third year. Having to send her sweet boy a howler was a traumatic experience for both of them. She would not have done so, except by losing the list of passwords, he exposed himself to danger unnecessarily. As it was, she had harsh words for a ministry that could let Sirius Black escape twice.
From that year on, Neville began to grow away from her. He looked towards Harry and that Granger girl for guidance more so than he did to her. And still, unlike Frank, there remained a core of individuality about the boy. He chose who he wished to follow and, if need be, would rather be alone than be with the wrong sort. She is proud of him, but words leave her mouth that she deeply regrets. Neville is not ashamed of his parents, she has known that his entire life. He is a solemn, sad boy and speaking of them only makes it worse. The night of the battle at the ministry, she is as proud of him as she has ever been. Yet, she cannot bring herself to visit him in the sick ward. Rage might overcome her; rage at Harry Potter. He was supposed to keep her grandson safe and instead he led the child into greater danger. When Neville came home for the summer, she could see the changes. The die has been cast though and there is no going back. He had become his own person, not yet fully formed but most of the way there. Neville still wishes to please her but that has not deterred her from doing things without her knowledge or consent. He joined the D.A. as it was called and never told her during all that time. She tests him with his new wand, and admits to herself that he is better than his father ever was.
The years of the war have changed her in ways she could never imagine. Augusta was not used to doing nothing, and yet she was helpless. She waited while her grandson disappeared from school. She smiled in satisfaction when a hybrid plant that Neville had developed proved of use in reversing a Death Eater curse. She waited at bedside for weeks in a Order protected safe house for her child to recover. She bore the resentment from Potter, Granger and the Weasley boy. All seemed to think that she was some sort of monster. Augusta heard the words “emotional abuse” and still she did not give in or leave. Finally Neville was awake, and unlike his parents, there was no permanent damage. She left that night to get some much needed sleep, only to return the next day and find that he had been moved. No one would tell her where, as if she was a threat to him. That was the hardest thing she could ever imagine suffering. He remained in secluded protection for 7 months after the war. When he was finally returned to her it was, again, ever so briefly.
Alice’s mother had left Neville a small legacy, and with the help of the eldest Weasley boy, Neville bought a small house of his own. He will never live with her again. Months pass with infrequent visits. She does her rumors though of Neville and Bill. That the charismatic cursebreaker fancies her grandson comes as no surprise to her. Nor does the age difference bother her. It takes a grown man, not a callow boy, to recognize and appreciate true and lasting beauty and worth, which is what Neville possesses. Just when she has resigned herself to accept the terms of the bargain she made long ago, fate surprises her again. She begins to receive frequent invitations to his cottage, it seems Neville is ready to know her as a grown up.