aquamarine | neville longbottom
summary: you and neville are paired for a herbology assignment. thanks to professor sprout's matchmaking skills, your friendship turns into something a bit more. warnings: none, fluff pairing: neville x fem!reader wc: 3.2k a/n: for a matchup i did<3 sorry for the wait!
“A line, please!” Professor Sprout chirped. “Let me pair you up—no nitpicking.”
You shuffled into the blob of a line, pressing against someone’s shoulder. Professor Sprout patted dirt from her clothes and then observed the students.
“Let’s see…” She tapped her chin. “Abbott with Weasley.”
The redhead shuffled to the awkward-looking girl.
“Granger with McKennon.”
The brunette girl walked to a taller boy.
“Y/L/N with…” Professor Sprout looked in the back. “Longbottom.”
You turned your head, facing a red-cheeked boy in the corner. Offering a small smile, he returned one as you walked over.
You both stood in silence, waiting for Professor Sprout to finish pairing up the students.
“Go to your pots and start planting! I will grade based on how good these cuties grow!”
Glancing at the brown-haired boy next to you, he awkwardly shuffled to the nearest pot.
“I’m Y/N,” You said, putting on a pair of black gloves and trying to break the ice.
“I-I’m Neville. Longbottom. Neville Longbottom.” Neville stammered, clumsily putting on a pair of gloves as well.
“Nice to meet you, Neville Longbottom,” You smiled. “Do you…have any idea what we’re doing?”
He nodded his head excitedly. “I can help. And explain…I guess.”
“And I’ll watch and learn?”
“Yup,” Neville grinned. Pointing at the glass container, he explained, “Those are mucus leaves—they help clear congestion and loosen mucus.”
He poured fresh dirt into an empty pot, then patted it down. “They thrive in…flat dirt.”
“Right.” You watched his hands flatten the moist dirt.
“Can you take the roots?” Neville asked. Inside the container, there was a jiggly, partially translucent plant.
“...It doesn’t have roots.” You replied, poking the jelly-like plant.
“Oh.” Neville stopped patting down the dirt and walked to the glass container. “It doesn’t have any roots at all.”
“How’re we going to plant it?”
He looked from the plant to the pot, deep in thought. “...Just drop it in…there?”
“That would work.”
“Hopefully.”
You snorted, picked up the slippery plant, and plopped it on top of the neat dirt.
Stepping back and observing the pot, you mumbled, “This doesn’t look right.”
“Maybe I’ll dig a hole, then we cover it,” Neville suggested.
You picked up the plant, and Neville dug a hole in the middle of the dirt with a rusted shovel. Dropping it inside the small hole, you scooped the dirt back on top of it.
Cleaning dirt off your apron, you glanced at Neville—he was skimming through the pages of a small leather notebook.
Peeking at the title, you read the lopsided words, ‘Herbology notes.’
“Herbology notes?” You asked. Neville looked at you, then crookedly smiled.
“...Yeah. Everyone–well, they tease me about it, but I think these are extremely helpful.”
“Can I see?”
He nodded, handing over the small book. The pages were thin and delicate, filled with small illustrations and sloppy notes.
The page with a bookmark was for the mucus leaves—professionally known as ‘Sanator Mucosi’—and there was basically no writing.
“Nothing?” You inquired, tracing your thumb on the ridges of the browned parchment.
Neville scratched the back of his neck. “...This is a newer plant to me. Never read about it, but I’ll ask Professor Sprout about it later.”
You hummed in response. Then, you spotted something in smaller letters next to a picture of it.
“‘Bottom of the pot works better than the top.’ You do know something about the Sanator Mucosi.” You closed the leather book and placed it on the table.
“I…had that written?”
You smiled, picking up the shovel and handing it to him. “Obviously. Now scoop out this dirt; I’ll hold the plant.”
–
Most of the students had struggled with the planting section.
Hermione Granger’s Sanator Mucosi ripped in half.
Dean Thomas’s clung to his face after he dropped it.
Ron Weasley’s grew legs.
The students gathered around your glowing pot and Neville's.
“Beautifully done! Five points to both Gryffindor and Hufflepuff!” Professor Sprout beamed, looking at the already-growing plant. “Now, let’s use Y/L/N’s and Longbottom’s Sanator Mucosi as an example for the essay due tomorrow.”
A few people sighed; others grumbled, but you and Neville seemed to be the only ones who were thrilled to write about it.
“One full parchment on how to plant, and how we can benefit from a properly cared-for Sanator Mucosi.” Professor Sprout continued, ignoring the bitter students' blatant remarks. “Class dismissed! See you all tomorrow!”
As class was dismissed, you caught up to Neville.
“That was probably the best I’ve done in Herbology.” You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “Thanks for…being helpful.”
He shrugged. “It’s no biggie…honestly, thanks to this book.”
“You should write some more in the notebook. About Sanator Mucosi.”
“I should.” Neville fidgeted with the hem of his sweater.
“So you just write about plants in there?” You questioned.
“Yeah…that and a few other things.” Neville looked away nervously.
“Like what?”
“Rocks.”
“Rocks?”
“…crystals.”
Your eyes went wide in excitement. “I love crystals! Crazy, I’ve never met anyone who liked them too—well, except for that Lavender Brown girl…she’s a bit rude.”
He looked slightly confused. “You like them…too?”
“Yes! Can I see what you’ve written about them?”
“Sure.” Neville flipped to a particular section of the book and gently gave it to you.
Taking it in your hands, you saw the filled page of amethyst crystals—their rarity, different names for all kinds of languages, and how they connect to mythology.
“Merlin…” you whispered, admiring the color-coded sections. “You sure know a lot about them, Longbottom.”
“Yeah…I-I know a thing or two.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve never really let anyone…see.”
“See?”
“My notebook.”
Your smile faltered. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” You frantically pushed the book back into his hands. “I didn’t mean to intrude–”
“No, It’s alright,” Neville reluctantly took his leather book back. “I just meant, y’know, no one cares enough to see it.”
You felt your face soften; what was once embarrassment turned into sympathy. “No one cares about it?”
He nodded.
“About—this notebook?”
He nodded again, looking at you with genuine eyes.
“Oh, Neville.” You breathed. “This is the greatest thing I think I’ve ever laid my hands on.”
His eyes widened—in hope, or adoration, you really didn’t know.
“...Really?”
“Yes, really.” You nudged his side as you both entered the warm castle. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”
Neville smiled. “Y-yeah. Around.”
—
You had never felt more braindead in your life.
Sighing, you tightened your grip on the strap of your leather bookbag. Entering the dim Hufflepuff common room, you decided to take a break and relax on one of the tufty couches.
As you plopped down on the beige cushion, you heard a shuffle of feet come from behind you.
“Hey Y/N,” a voice said. Turning your head, Hannah Abbott stood nervously.
“Hi, Abbott,” You greeted tiredly, patting down your hair. “What’s up?”
“The… essay. Do you mind helping? I’m on the last part, but I’m a bit stuck—thought you might know.” She asked.
You wrinkled your nose in remembrance of the tedious assignment. “Right. I’ll need to finish it tonight.”
“Oh, alright. Good luck with it!” Hannah waved, retreating to the corner with the rest of her stressed friends, worrying about their overload of assignments.
You took a deep breath, recollecting yourself. Massaging your sore temples, you thought, get it done already, then you can sleep for eternity.
Heaving yourself upon your feet, you lazily left the warm common room and went into the empty hallways.
You passed by laughing students, groups of dawdling boys, and a worried Professor McGonagall, clutching her witch hat and mumbling things under her breath.
“...foolish students, messing around near that tree…” You heard as you passed.
You raised an eyebrow, hurrying to the library.
Inside the well-lit library, several students sat at desks, looked through shelves, and whispered in small groups.
Turning a corner, you saw a familiar brunette boy sitting alone at one of the desks.
“Hi, Neville.” You grinned, standing in front of him. Neville looked up with wide eyes.
“Oh, hey, Y/N.” He waved, smiling.
“Mind if I sit here?”
“Yeah!” Neville replied. You slowly raised an eyebrow.
“Oh.”
“Wait- I meant, no, I don’t mind.” His cheeks burned a bright red.
Pulling out the chair and sitting in it, you noticed the book in his hands.
Not a book, but something like it.
“Your notes again?” You questioned.
Neville looked up at you again. “Um- yeah. Adding a few more things.”
“What else could you add in there?” You smiled. “It’s like you have everything.”
“Well, notes for the Sanator Mucosi.”
“Oh, right. I forgot about that for a second.” Pulling out your parchment, Herbology book, and quill, you took a deep breath.
I got this, you thought, dipping your quill in ink. Just an hour. It’ll be done.
As Professor Sprout’s prompt repeated over and over in your head, you began writing the essay.
Sanator Mucosi is a confusing plant…
…different texture than any plant…
The scratching of your quill was stopped when the boy across from you gently tapped your hand.
You looked at him with a tilted head.
“Hm?”
“...Professor Sprout told us that there were a few other plants with a jelly-like texture.”
“Oh. Really?”
Neville nodded. “A hundred and fifteen others, I think.”
You frowned. “I can’t believe I didn’t remember that.”
“Well, now you know, yeah?” Neville gave a small smile.
You felt your ears burn. Eyes diverting from his, you bit the inside of your cheek.
“Yup. Yeah. Thank you…for telling me.”
“No problem.”
You scratched out what you wrote with black ink.
You replaced it with:
The Sanator Mucosi has a different texture than most plants, except for 105 others.
“A hundred fifteen,” Neville said quietly.
Your eyes scanned the sentence again, then you frustratedly huffed.
“Merlin, did I mess it up again?” You groaned, noticing the mistake.
“Not too far off, though.” Neville teased, scribbling down something in his notebook, then flipping the page. “Sorry, am I being a know-it-all?”
“No. I’m just being an idiot.”
“A brilliant idiot.”
You rolled your eyes. Scratching off the number, you corrected your mistake. As you continued your writing, you felt a tap again.
“Yes, Mr. Know-it-all?” You sighed. Neville gave a lopsided smile.
“Seventeenth century, not sixteenth. That virus didn’t exist–”
You eyed him, which told him: don't make me look like more of an idiot.
“Sorry. Never mind.” Neville scratched the back of his neck. You scratched out the numbers and replaced them with the right ones.
“Thank you for telling me. I forgot. Again.” You mumbled.
“I don’t think I’ve met anyone more forgetful than me,” Neville huffed out a laugh.
You flipped a page in your Herbology book. “And that’s not a good thing.”
—
A bright red “O” was stamped on your piece of browned parchment filled with scribbles and ink splatters.
And so was Neville’s.
“I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done without you, Neville.” You beamed, nudging his side. He blushed, looking away.
“I-It’s no problem,” Neville replied, waving a dismissive hand. “You were nearly half-asleep when you finished that.”
“And you kept me up.”
“In a bad way…?”
“Good way.” You shrugged, walking up the steps of the castle. “Obviously a good way. I can't write if I’m asleep, Mr. Know-it-all.”
“Is that what you’re going to call me?” Neville laughed. “Mr. Know-it-all?”
“I mean…that’s what you are.” You both walked down the empty corridor. “Did you ever finish that Sanator Mucosi page in your notebook?”
“Yup. While you were struggling.”
You smacked his arm. “I was only struggling because you weren’t giving me direct answers.”
“Good friends don’t give direct answers,” Neville responded. “They teach.”
You snorted loudly.
“Are you laughing at that?”
“No.”
Looking at his confused face, you burst into laughter.
Neville couldn’t help but grin too. “Idiot.”
“That was–” You caught your breath, a hand on top of Neville’s shoulder. “–the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!”
“Oh, shut it,” Neville rolled his eyes. “I did finish some pages for crystals.”
“Crystals?” You straightened up, eyebrow raised in curiosity. “Do you mind if I look at them?”
“Sure, when we make it to the library.” Neville nodded. “With the giggling state you’re in, it might take a while.”
You hiccuped. “You’re funny.”
You followed Neville into the library. As you both sat down at the familiar desk, you spread out your assignments.
“Potions and Arithmancy.” You sighed. “My worst classes.”
“You think I’d be able to help?” Neville asked, bringing out a small quill and his leather notebook.
“Your shrinking solution turned into lava, Neville.”
“...Right.”
The pages of your dusty potions book were charred around the edges. Turning it away from Neville, you cleared your throat. “I’m obviously a better potionmaker.”
“Don’t act like I didn’t see the state of your potions book right now.”
“Okay, fine. We’re on the same boat.” You sighed. Nodding towards Neville’s brown notebook, you asked, “So, how’re the crystals lookin’?”
He opened to a page, then slipped the book towards you. “I finally finished the amethyst page.”
The rims of the parchment were tinted a dark maroon; the entire page was decorated with sketches of the crystal and…a green mythology figure.
“Dionysus?” You breathed, tracing a thumb over the ink-drawn image. You looked up at Neville’s blushing face. “You like Greek Mythology too?”
“Um- yeah. I’ve only just gotten into it.”
You admired the detailed portrait of the Greek god.
“Do you…?” Neville mumbled.
“Obviously! Crystals, Greek gods, tarot—I love all of it!”
“Tarot?”
“Yup.”
“You’re like…a witch.”
You laughed. “I can do magic, yes.”
“No- not like a witch—like a witch witch.”
You tilted your head with a raised eyebrow. “Is that a bad thing?”
“No. It’s really cool, actually. Gran loves witchcraft. Like, crystal balls and those cards.”
Staring at him with awe, he said quietly, “She gave me a deck of tarot before, but I don’t use them. Maybe you could find some use in them…”
“You’re giving me tarot cards?” You squealed.
“Yeah. I don’t have them on me, but–”
You leaped forward, hugging him awkwardly around his neck above the desk between you both.
Neville froze.
“You’re the sweetest, Neville Longbottom!” You said with delight. Letting go of him and slumping back in your chair, you sighed. “I’ve never met someone as…kind and interesting before.”
“I can…say the same about you.” His eyes diverted to the desk like it was the most interesting thing in the world.
Eyes flickering back to the notebook, you flipped a few pages until your eyes landed on the aquamarine crystal.
A light-teal, smooth-edged rock, the crystal for tranquility, peace, and strength within relationships.
Your favorite.
The page was half-full of little information—the basic properties, which chemicals produce it, and some of the historical lore.
“Aquamarine is your favorite?” Neville asked. You broke out of your thoughts of the crystal.
“Yup. Always has been.” Closing the notebook, you sat up in your chair and picked up your quill. “I should start working on this.”
“You should,” Neville said.
As you straightened the parchment, you glanced at Neville. He was just…sitting there.
“Are you just going to sit there?” You asked.
Neville gave a small smile. “I’ll wait until you’re done.”
“...Are you sure?”
“I don’t mind waiting.” He assured. “Take your time.”
—
Neville was there, waiting for you outside the Potions’ dungeon, a brown package in his hand.
“Hi, Nev.” You greeted, slinging your bookbag over your shoulder.
“Hi, Marine.”
You looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Marine?”
“Like aquamarine.”
Giggling, you playfully smacked his arm. “Mr. Know-it-all.”
“Marine.” Neville grinned.
“What’s that in your hand?” You nodded towards the rectangular package.
“A gift to you.”
Your steps faltered. “A gift? For me?”
“Just for you.” Neville handed over the heavy gift. “Guess what it is.”
“Um…” You thought, feeling around the item. “Candy?”
“Nope.”
“A quill set?”
“Not quite.”
“Am I hot or cold?”
“Cold.”
You huffed. “What is it?”
“Guess, Y/N.” Neville grinned.
“Crystals.”
“Warm.”
“Herbs.”
“Warmer.”
Something clicked in your mind. “Tarot cards!”
Neville nodded; you excitedly opened up the package to see a thick velvet box with ‘Tarot Cards’ plastered in gold letters.
“Merlin, Neville, thank you so much!” You smiled, admiring the magenta box. “I’ll open it in my dorm…I don’t want Lavender Brown getting envious.”
Neville laughed. “Wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy either.” As you both walked down the corridor, Neville asked, “Want to go to the library?”
You nodded, hurrying off to the bustling place filled with books.
The normal desk you both sat at was available, per usual. It was in the corner, a more secluded, quiet area. Perfect for duos…or dates.
Taking a seat across from Neville, you set out two pieces of parchment. “Potions is going to be the death of me.”
“Got another assignment?” Neville inquired.
“Unfortunately.”
“How did the last one go?”
“We haven’t gotten it back yet. When Professor Snape skimmed through mine, his frown got surprisingly even more prominent.”
Neville snickered. “Nothing can compare to the face he makes when he sees me.”
“Poor Neville.” You teased.
He rolled his eyes. “Go finish your work.”
You giggled, taking your quill and dipping it into rich, black ink.
Beginning the essay on moonstones, your ink scratched quietly—matching the same pace as Neville’s black quill.
Glancing at him, you noticed him writing something down in his leather notebook.
“What’re you writing about?” You asked, lifting the tip of your quill above the parchment.
Neville’s face burned a cherry-red.
“N-nothing.”
“When you say nothing, you’re hiding something.” Knitting your brows, you observed his tense body. “Are you…okay?”
“Yes. I’m okay.”
You sniggered. “What’re you hiding, Mr. Know-it-all?”
“Nothing.”
“Neville.”
“Y/N.”
“Nev.” You crossed your arms.
“I was just writing down some notes.”
“What notes?”
“Just…notes.”
“Let me see them. I won't judge,” You prodded. “About crystals?”
“...sure.” He slowly slid the open book towards you.
It was the aquamarine page.
This time, it was filled with notes.
But under the illustration of one, there was a small piece of writing:
Y/N’s favorite rock.
With a small heart next to it.
Your heart stopped beating for a second.
You felt your grip loosening on the notebook.
A…heart?
Remembering my favorite rock…?
From the corner of your eye, you could make out Neville rubbing the nape of his neck, a bright shade of pink.
“This is the note you were working on?” You softly laughed. Neville returned a small grin.
“You could…say that.”
Your heart was warm, heavy with emotions.
“This is cute. Thank you…for remembering.” You slid the notebook back to him. “No one’s ever really cared about my crazy hobbies.”
“...I care,” Neville mumbled reluctantly.
You felt your face burn; you started fidgeting with the hem of your clothes.
Your heart was in your throat—or was it pounding out of your chest?
You didn’t know; it was a lot to process.
Why couldn’t this just slow down?
Clearing his throat, Neville closed his notebook and brought out a thick textbook. “We should get to work, yeah?” He asked quietly.
“Right.” You snapped out of the daze you were in, tucking a strand of hair behind your hot ear. “What do you have due?”
“History of Magic.”
“Ooh! Need help?”
“I would love it.”
And for another two hours, you both helped each other—well, Neville tried to help you with potions, but kept getting certain elements mixed up.
Neville was your best friend. You were his as well.
But maybe he saw you more than that.
More than best friends.
