Chapter Text
As a new Healer at St Mungo's, Hannah unfortunately did not get the choicest shifts, which meant that she would be working over Christmas. Neville didn't envy her, but he knew he would miss her. He'd considered visiting her during her break, maybe take some pudding from Hogwarts and dangle mistletoe over them while he was there. But she dissuaded him, not wanting to look unprofessional in front of her co-workers.
So he stayed at the school, feeling very junior among the other professors while they talked about past Christmas staff parties (brushing over some of the ones while he was at school, particularly the year while Snape was headmaster), stayed long enough to make conversation with everyone, and then returned to his headquarters.
He wished some of the others had returned as professors. He was sure Hermione would've taken to teaching; her bossy nature would have the students sitting up straight and taking notice. Or Harry, who'd taught them so well when they were in the DA. He could've had the DADA position, or taken over flying if Madame Hooch ever retired. And someone really should replace Professor Trelawney, someone who didn't predict grisly deaths for every second student.
He sighed, feeling older than he should've done at only twenty-four. He entered his rooms, sat by his tree, and began to pick up the presents he hadn't yet opened. He'd still hoped Hannah would get half an hour to visit, but there'd been no word, so he opened hers first.
Post-war paranoia had him checking the gifts with his wand just in case, even though the house elves had done so. It was clear. He opened it up, and found a hand knitted scarf in gold and black, their secondary house colours. The gold was vibrant, and he was pretty sure the pattern was called hounds-tooth, but he'd have to check with someone who knew these things.
“Thank you, Hannah,” he murmured, feeling warmed right down to his toes that she had spent the time to make him something like this. He knew – from having watched Hermione in fifth year – how long it took to knit something, even with magic. And she was training on the job. He could faintly smell her perfume on it, and imagined her wearing it so it would smell like her. He wrapped it around his neck and buried his nose in it, closing his eyes so he could imagine she was there.
The next present was from Harry and Ginny. It was a set of gardening tools and earmuffs, sending him back to second year when they learnt how to pot baby mandrakes. That was Ginny's first year at Hogwarts, when Harry saved her life. Was that deliberate, or just a coincidence? It didn't matter. He could always do with a spare pair, and they'd be useful in this cold weather, if they weren't soundproofed against mandrakes. Though, according to the tag hanging from the earmuffs, they were specifically to be used with mandrakes, and made to the highest standards. Typical Harry, always keeping his friends safe.
Of all the gifts from his friends, however, Hermione's made him laugh. While she had bought him a book as usual – one on medieval uses for Muggle plants – she had also bought him something which, as she wrote in her card, she hoped would be of more use in improving his memory than the Remembrall had been. It was a deck of cards, also from the Muggle world, which had pairs of matching pictures. He read through the instructions. He had to shuffle the deck, place the cards face down, and then see how long it took him to pair them up correctly. And then try to improve his time each time he played them. He could also use them to play a non-exploding version of Exploding Snap if he wanted to, but the idea was to improve his memory.
“I'll try, Hermione, but I make no guarantees,” he said, chuckling as he set it aside. Muggle memory cards. Whatever would they think of next?