Affection

cheering charm

Rating: G
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 20/09/2004
Last Updated: 21/09/2004
Status: completed

(Part 3 of Tragic Little Hero universe, but may be read as a standalone fic.) This is a story about a boy turning into a man, standing up to his enemies and his friends, and going after something he wants, even when he knows he won't have it long term. NOT your typical h/hr story.

Chapters

1. Affection

1. Affection

Author’s Notes:

This story is set in the Tragic Little Hero universe. The first, Tragic Little Hero, can be read HERE. The second, The Unasked Question, can be read HERE.

This isn’t your typical Harry and Hermione story. If you are searching for the same h/hr snogging happily ever after story you’ve read a hundred times before, then don’t read this. But, if you want to read something a bit different, with a new perspective, then this is the story for you. This story is for everyone that believes in the inevitability of love, but realizes that everyone has a history.

Thanks to danielerin for beating, vicarious leigh, phoenix song and lissanne for reading this and encouraging me to continue with it.

Affection

by cheering charm

I’m not going to lose my nerve. Not this time.

The Common Room contained only a smattering of students, most Gryffindors preferring to be outside on this beautiful spring day. The person I was looking for was not. She was sitting at a table by the window, mounds of books surrounding the piece of parchment she was focused on. Sunlight streamed through the window, highlighting the pallid complexion of her face.

She really needs to get outside more.

“Hi, Hermione,” I said.

Her eyes looked at me, but the vacant expression told me that she was still focused on whatever obscure fact she was studying at the moment. She managed a conciliatory smile and said, “Hi.”

I knew the answer to the question before I asked, “Why aren’t you outside with everyone else?”

She waved her hand toward the table. “Too many books.”

I nodded my head and she returned to her task, thinking that our polite conversation was over. Under normal circumstances it would have been. But I hadn’t felt normal in quite a while.

“Do you want to go to lunch?” I asked the top of her head.

“No, not right now. I’m not that hungry. Thanks though,” she replied, not bothering to look up from her parchment.

“I didn’t mean now. I meant, do you want to go to lunch with me?”

Her quill shot across her parchment, leaving a long black streak across her perfectly straight and neat essay. I felt a small pang of guilt for causing her to ruin her hard work, but only for a second. Her response was too comical to feel remorseful about. I tried to repress a smile.

Her vacant look from moments earlier was gone, replaced by one of shock. Her mouth opened in what was either a result of her astonishment or possibly her attempt to find the correct words to let me down easily. It was difficult, but I refrained from letting her off the hook. Instead I stood before her, hands in my pockets, a questioning look on my face. At least I think it was a questioning look. That was the expression I was going for.

Her mouth closed and she began fidgeting. She was definitely nervous. “Um, well, you see I’m...” She stopped and went completely still, staring off into space. Her brows furrowed in thought, and then she raised her head and looked at me full on for the first time. “Yes, I’d love to go to lunch with you,” she replied with a smile.

I grinned, too excited to play it cool and hold back. “How much time do you need?” I asked, nodding toward the table.

She glanced at her ruined essay and cringed. “An hour okay?”

“Perfect. I’ll be back in a bit.” I turned toward the stairs leading up to the boys’ dormitory when she called out to me.

“Neville?” I turned around to find her grinning at me. “Thanks.”

I’ve wanted to go out with Hermione since the Yule Ball. I was devastated when she turned me down, thinking that she was turning me down because of who I was — blundering, accident-prone, forgetful, embarrassing to the name of wizard Neville Longbottom. The irony of those thoughts was ridiculous. Not because I wasn’t all of those things (I was), but because it was Hermione. The reason I asked her in the first place was due in large part to the fact that she treated me like I was just as good as anyone else, even Harry and Ron. Of course, I was 14. Girls were a mystery and I had no self-confidence whatsoever.

I’m older now, thank Merlin, and many perceptions about me have been proved inaccurate over the last year, not only to everyone in the school, but to me as well. It all started with that git Malfoy commenting about St. Mungo’s. I wanted to become a better wizard for no other reason than to hex Malfoy when an opportunity arose. I’m still waiting for that opportunity…and I’m getting better every day. Malfoy won’t know what hit him.

The DA helped, obviously. Then there was the Department of Mysteries. The best thing to come of that was the destruction of my wand. Not to lay the blame of my ineptitude at the foot of an 11-inch piece of wood, but that wand never chose me. My grandmother’s decision for me to use my father’s wand was based on nostalgia. I suppose she hoped that some of my father’s greatness would be transferred to her hopeless grandson through the wand. It’s too bad that I wasted five years of my education with a wand that wasn’t suited for me.

The moment I touched my new wand I felt different. Powerful, confident, fearless (except when it comes to Snape, he is just a frightening human being, new wand or no). Spells have come easier. Charms are more fun. I have actually managed to transfigure items on the first go. Every day, my opinion of myself improves a little bit. Every day, I get closer to feeling like I truly belong here.

I decided a couple of months ago to ask Hermione out again. The original plan was to ask her to go to Hogsmeade with me. Owing to the fact that she never seemed to stray from Ron or Harry, I lost my nerve. Confidence is one thing, but asking a girl out in front of her two best friends, who just so happen to be boys, is something else entirely. So I waited. And watched.

I’ve wondered for a couple of years now what exactly the relationship between the three of them is. I witnessed firsthand “The Big Row,” as every Gryffindor outside of the famed trio refers to Ron and Hermione’s disagreement after the Yule Ball. After that, I, along with everyone else, thought it was only a matter of time before Ron and Hermione became a couple. I can’t tell you how much that thought depressed me. In fact, the row between Ron and Hermione surprised me a bit. I have always had the impression that Hermione liked Harry, not Ron, primarily because she and Ron constantly argue. But people more knowledgeable than I in the ways of love, namely Lavender and Parvati, informed me that incessant bickering is a sign of true love. Far be it from me to disagree. Anyway, Harry was always ogling Cho Chang, which pretty much shot my Harry and Hermione theory to hell. Then there was Viktor Krum. Really, the whole situation was tough to get a grip on.

Fifth year was a bit easier to understand because Krum seemed to be out of the picture. He was, at most, a pen pal. Ron’s behavior didn’t change much, he was still as over-protective and jealous as ever. Harry was still ogling (and probably more if rumors are true) Cho Chang. And Hermione? Well, she is the only one of the three that knows how to keep her true feelings hidden.

This year, things have changed again. Harry and Hermione’s relationship is different somehow. I don’t reckon they’re a couple or anything, but there is definitely something that wasn’t there last year. Ron has cottoned on to that, as well. He doesn’t like it. I can tell.

Something else has changed — the one thing I’ve been dreading for two years: Harry has finally noticed Hermione. How do I know? Because I’ve watched him. He looks at her a beat longer than necessary. He spends much more time in the library. Voluntarily, I might add. I admit that it isn’t much in terms of evidence. But it isn’t necessarily the quantity, but the quality of this behavior. The look he gives her is different. The first time I saw it, in the Three Broomsticks on the last Hogsmeade weekend, I knew I needed to make my move or I’d lose my chance altogether. My confidence may be improving but I will never be able to compete with Harry Potter, especially where Hermione Granger is concerned.

I’m not madly in love with Hermione. I don’t expect to sweep her off her feet, get married and have bumbling but brilliant children with round faces and bushy hair. In fact, chances are nothing will come of this at all. But I’ve always wanted to spend time with just her, and not studying transfiguration. If this is the only date we ever have, I will be fine with it.

I’m lying. I’ll be devastated. But at least I’ll know I gave it a go.

I walked downstairs to find Ron and Harry plopped in chairs beside Hermione, sweaty Quidditch robes and all. I involuntarily paused on the stairs, a small fissure in my confidence appearing at the sight of her two best friends — my would-be competitors. Hermione waved at me and began putting her work away in her bag. My heart soared as I realized that she still intended to have lunch with me. I do believe I bounced down the remainder of the stairs.

“Hiya, Neville!” Harry said.

“Hi, Harry. How was practice?”

“Long and tiring,” he replied.

I’m as big a Quidditch fan as the next wizard, but at that moment, I didn’t want to talk about it with the two of them. I wanted to get Hermione as far away from them as possible. “You ready?” I asked her.

“Yes, I am,” she replied standing up.

“Ready for what?” Ron asked.

“Lunch,” she said.

Ron stood from the chair, as did Harry, and said, “Give us a minute. We’ll go with you.”

Here is the true test, I thought to myself. I could tell she had thought this might happen, because she had a practiced, if not entirely confident, answer ready.

“I’m going to lunch with Neville.”

“Well just meet you in the Great Hall,” Harry said.

“We won’t be in the Great Hall,” I replied.

All three looked at me in shock. Truth be told, I was a little surprised with the reply myself.

Hermione recovered quickly and said, “Neville and I are going to lunch. Together.”

“As in a date?” Ron asked, his voice rising with incredulity.

I shrugged my shoulders in an effort to act nonchalant. Actually, my insides were squirming like a nest of snakes. “You could call it that.” I looked at Hermione and said again, “You ready?’

“Yes.”

I stood back for her to walk in front of me. The last thing I saw before following her was Ron’s look of astonishment and Harry staring at the ground, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“If we aren’t going to the Great Hall, where are we going?” Hermione asked once the portrait hole closed behind us.

“I have no idea,” I replied with a sheepish grin. She nodded in acknowledgement as we, in unspoken agreement, took the path through the castle that led to the kitchens.

Twenty minutes later, and loaded down with enough food to feed a Quidditch side, we made our way to a vacant classroom Hermione knew from her prefect duties. I spread out a blanket provided by the house elves and we began pulling out all manner of picnic food from the basket. Cold roasted chicken, crisps, fruit, cold pumpkin juice, biscuits, serviettes, plates, cutlery. It seemed as if the basket was a bottomless pit of food.

“Do you get the impression that the house elves have done this before?” I asked.

“Yes, I do,” Hermione said with a grin.

To be honest, I can’t remember what we talked about during our lunch. But I do know that it was one of the most comfortable conversations I’ve ever had. Hermione is really quite funny and not nearly as serious as she puts on in class. She has a way of making you feel at ease despite yourself. Or maybe she just makes me feel at ease. Until she asked me this question, that is.

“Neville, why did you ask me to lunch?”

I guess part of me was expecting the question. This is Hermione after all; she wants to know all the answers. It would have been nice for it to happen on our third or fourth date though.

Honesty is the best policy, right? “I…I’ve wanted to go out with you ever since the Yule Ball.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh.” She began fidgeting with her serviette.

This was a new experience for me. I’m not used to being the one to make people nervous. I’m used to being the nervous one. “Why did you say yes?” Okay, probably not the best question to ask to put her at ease.

“Because I wanted to come,” she said firmly, looking up at me.

“But you thought about saying no.”

She inhaled to say something, then paused. A smile crept across her face and she said, “Yes, I did, but not because I didn’t want to have lunch with you. I automatically began to give the excuse that I was waiting for Harry and Ron. Then I realized that while it is probably understood, even expected, that I would wait to have lunch with them, there was no reason to. I hadn’t actually told them I would wait for them.”

I nodded dumbly, not quite sure what to say, not quite sure what she was saying.

“And I realized I wanted to have lunch with you.”

That cleared it up nicely.

“If you’ve wanted to go out with me since the Yule Ball, why didn’t you ask sooner?”

Okay, this wanting to know the answer to everything is just a tad annoying when it is directed at you. I guess if she wants answers, so do I.

“Honestly? I’ve been trying to figure out what was going on between you, Ron and Harry for the last two years.”

She recovered from my directness quickly and said in a businesslike voice, “And what did you decide?”

This is where it could have gotten dodgy. On the one hand, I wanted her to know that I’ve been watching her, paying attention to her. However, it might come across more psychotic than romantic. Plus, I don’t want to alert her to the fact that Harry has taken a more than friendly interest in her if she doesn’t already know it. Am I being selfish? Without a doubt. But all is fair in love and war.

“Nothing really. I was hoping you could clear it up for me.”

“There is nothing to clear up. We’re friends.”

I nodded and said nothing. My Uncle Algie told me once that silence is a spot on way to get people to talk. Plus, you learn more by listening than by flapping your gums. I wonder if he really believed that or if he just told me that to get me to shut up. I didn’t really think it would work on Hermione but I remained silent nonetheless.

“I don’t reckon it would be a good idea for two of us to ‘couple off’ or whatever you want to call it,” she continued. “That would most assuredly cause tension with the third person, which wouldn’t be good. I don’t think Ron or Harry would handle being the third wheel very well.”

She said all of this rather fast as if embarrassed to admit that she had thought of the repercussions of it all. But her tone of voice was brisk in an effort to make it sound much more theoretical that it truly was.

“What if you were the third wheel?” I asked with as much seriousness as I could muster.

Confusion flooded her face followed closely by a smirk. “I guess there is that possibility,” she teased. “Ron was the one Harry would miss most in fourth year.”

“I’d forgotten that!” I said. “Did that bother you?”

Her shoulders slumped a bit. “A little,” she replied. “But I understood,” she continued quickly. “Ron was Harry’s first true friend. That’s a special bond.”

“And now? Who do you think he would have to rescue in the lake?”

“I’m positive it would still be Ron.”

“But you wish it would be you.”

“What are you trying to say, Neville?”

“I guess I just want to know if you have a crush on the Boy Who Lived like every other girl at Hogwarts.”

“I’d hardly call my feelings for Harry a crush.”

“So you do fancy him?”

“Why are you so insistent on waffling on about this? Aren’t we on a date?”

“Are you avoiding the question?”

“Like the plague.”

“Why?”

Hermione paused to collect her thoughts. “What I said earlier is true. It wouldn’t be a good idea for our friendship if two of the three of us became a couple.”

“Is that the only thing keeping you from doing anything about your feelings?”

“I never said I had feelings,” she insisted. Then quickly, she turned the tables. “You’ve been busy quizzing me. Now it’s your turn. What about Ginny?”

“Ginny has a boyfriend.”

“But you fancy her.”

“I like her. She’s a good friend.”

“I always got the impression that you liked her in a more than friendly manner, Neville Longbottom.”

I should probably pause here and explain something. I do fancy Ginny. And I fancy Hermione. I would have to say that Hermione was my first crush, and Ginny was my first girl friend. My feelings for Ginny are a bit more complicated than my feelings for Hermione. With Hermione it is more curiosity. Since she was my first crush, I would always wonder what it would be like to go out with her. I could see myself happily married in fifty years, musing on what would have happened if we had gone out just once. But in this daydream, I’m married to Ginny.

“Ginny only sees me as a friend. And as much as I like her, I’m not going to sit around waiting for her to realize what a great boyfriend I would be.”

Hermione arched her eyebrows. “It seems that we are in the same situation, doesn’t it?”

I nodded my head in acknowledgement. “I reckon so.” I looked at my watch, astounded to find that two hours had past. “We had better get back. Your books are getting lonely.”

“Ha, ha,” Hermione replied.

With a wave of my wand, the remnants of our lunch flew back into the basket. I stood and offered my hands to help Hermione up. She took them and I pulled, I guess a little harder than necessary. She all but flew off the ground and stumbled into me almost knocking me over in the process. When we righted ourselves, I was as surprised as she to find my arms around her waist and our faces only centimeters apart. So I did what any self-respecting 16-year-old boy would do. I kissed her.

Lo and behold, she kissed me back.

Everything leading up to the kiss happened too fast for nerves to really set in. But once I realized our lips were touching and she wasn’t pushing me away in disgust, my mind went completely blank — not in a good way. I didn’t move anything, including my lips. I’ve no doubt it felt like kissing a statue. I was afraid to do anything lest I was doing it wrong, but I was afraid if I didn’t do something that any chance of a second date would fly out the window. I could only see one course of action to take. I pulled out of the kiss and told her she was beautiful.

She blushed, looked down and murmured something like, “You’re just saying that so I’ll kiss you again.”

Yes, the witch is brilliant. I didn’t even know what I was doing until she told me. It didn’t pass my notice that she still hadn’t pushed me away. I screwed up my courage and lifted her chin to kiss her again. I was determined that my second kiss would be more memorable than the first.

I wasn’t disappointed.

“Hi, Neville!”

A blonde fourth year I’ve never spoken to before smiled at me and ducked her head, but not before batting her eyes at me as we passed in the hall.

“Er, hi,” I replied before glancing at the witch walking beside me. Hermione’s mouth was twisted into a knowing smile as she turned her head and watched the pretty Hufflepuff pass by.

“You’re getting it too, I see.”

“Getting what?” I questioned, still stunned by the girl’s greeting and embarrassed it happened in front of Hermione.

“More attention. It’s amazing how appealing you become when people think you are off the market,” Hermione teased.

Relieved that she wasn’t angry, I replied, “You, too?”

She nodded. “It’s been happening to me all week. Blokes that wouldn’t give me a second look before are eyeing me as I walk down the hall now that they think I have a boyfriend. I wouldn’t have noticed if Ginny hadn’t pointed it out.”

“Ginny?”

“Yes. Ginny has been asking me all sorts of questions about you.”

“Has she?”

“Yes. Don’t worry. I’m giving you very favorable reviews.”

“Hmm,” I replied.

A week before, that news would have elated me. I was a bit surprised to be affected very little by Ginny’s interest in me. At the moment, I was more interested in Hermione’s motivation.

“Why?”

“Sorry?” Hermione asked, rummaging through her bag.

“Umm…” It was important that this be worded in the right way. We were almost to our destination, the library, of course, and I definitely didn’t want to have this conversation over potions homework. I pulled her into a doorway and said, “Why were you giving me good reviews to Ginny?”

Hermione’s brows furrowed into a straight line. “Why wouldn’t I?”

I sighed in exasperation. Either she was being daft on purpose (not likely) or I wasn’t getting my point across.

“You’re going to make me ask it, aren’t you?” I said.

“I guess I am since I don’t know what you’re on about.”

I sighed and said as fast as possible without looking directly at Hermione, “Are you saying all that stuff because you really think it or because you want Ginny to be interested in me?”

Silence. I felt the heat from the burning of my cheeks surround me. I was looking at the ground so I had no idea what her silence meant. I chanced a peek and saw her chewing her bottom lip in concentration.

“I suppose a little of both, Neville. I didn’t realize until you mentioned it that I probably have been talking to Ginny in hopes that she will see you in a different light.”

My heart constricted in my chest. That wasn’t the answer I wanted to hear. Over the past week, my affection for Hermione had grown. We hadn’t had another date or even been alone for any amount of time, except once. Our interactions had mainly consisted of sitting by each other at mealtimes, walking to and from class, and studying in the library or the Common Room. The one time we had been alone I had somehow worked up the nerve to kiss her again. Her response had been encouraging, allowing hope that she fancied me as much as I fancied her to grow. Her reply to my question, however, dashed those hopes. I kept my eyes down and toed a crease in the stone floor with my shoe.

“Neville.” I felt her hand on my arm. “I haven’t lied or embellished anything. Everything I’ve said to Ginny, I’ve meant.”

I looked up and she gave me a sweet smile. “Do you reckon I’m the type of girl to snog someone I don’t like?”

I shrugged. “I hope not.”

“Well, I’m not. I do like you, Neville. It doesn’t bother me that everyone thinks we are a couple. But I’m not ready to put that label on it. I enjoy spending time with you. I would like to keep spending time with you.” She dropped her hand from my arm and continued in a small voice. “I understand, though, if that’s not enough. But right now, it’s all I can give.”

Looking back, I realize that that was the moment when I knew that as much as Hermione would grow to care for me, she would have never been able to give me her whole heart. At that moment all I heard was that she liked me and wanted to spend more time with me.

“It’s enough, Hermione.”

She smiled up at me with a smile I had never seen before and imagined was reserved just for me. She reached up and softly kissed me on the lips. I thought I was going to die of happiness right there.

“That is disgusting.”

The feeling of elation was replaced with one of cold hatred as a drawling voice interrupted our private moment.

“So it is true. You two are a couple,” Draco Malfoy snarled.

Despite the fact that he interrupted what had the potential to be our third snogging session, I was heartened to see Malfoy was alone. I looked down, feigning embarrassment and nervousness while drawing my wand. Malfoy was too busy hurling insults to notice. “I don’t know how you can stand to touch let alone kiss that revolting mudblood.”

“T-take it b-back, Malfoy,” I said, still staring at the ground.

“Ooohhh!” Malfoy laughed. “Trying to take up for your girlfriend, I see. How pathetically noble.”

“Like you know one jot about nobility, Malfoy,” Hermione said grabbing my arm.

“You’re such a nancy, Longbottom, that your girlfriend has to stand up for you.”

“I s-said, t-take it back,” I stammered.

“No. I don’t think I will. Like you could do anything about it. You’re an embarrassment to your pureblood family. You always have been. But considering your parents…”

I raised my wand and stared into Malfoy’s eyes. “Take it back. NOW!”

“Neville, don’t,” Hermione warned.

“Stay out of it, Hermione,” I replied through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, Mudblood, stay out of it,” Malfoy sneered, dropping his book bag and pulling his wand. “You’ll need to stick around to mop your boyfriend up off the floor.”

“You think so?” I asked.

Draco snorted in derision as I said, “Proteaus Ballone.” A yellow jet of light erupted from my wand taking Malfoy and Hermione by surprise. The light connected with Malfoy’s wand and a loud pop resounded through the hall.

Hermione burst into laughter as I lowered my wand. Malfoy was standing in front of me, his eyes wide with astonishment, pointing a yellow balloon animal at my chest.

“What the…” Malfoy started, staring at what used to be his wand. Hermione was doubled over in laughter, tears streaming down her face.

“What’s going on here?”

The clipped tones of Professor McGonagall broke through Hermione’s laughter. Her laughter ended abruptly and she stood, arranging her tear-stained face into a serious expression.

“Longbottom just tried to hex me!”

“Mr. Longbottom, is this true?”

“No, Professor. I would never hex a student.”

“Oi, what do you call this then?” Malfoy said, waving the yellow balloon dog in front of Professor McGonagall’s face.

“I’d call it a very nice balloon animal, Mr. Malfoy. What is your point?”

“He did this to my wand!” Malfoy snarled.

Professor McGonagall turned to me. “Mr. Longbottom, did you do this?”

“Yes, ma’am. He pulled his wand and I transfigured it.”

A small tut escaped Professor McGonagall’s throat. “Well, that is easily fixed.” She tapped her wand on Malfoy’s yellow balloon and said, “Mutare Reparo.” Instead of turning back into wood, Malfoy’s wand deflated in his hand with a loud squeal.

Professor McGonagall gasped in shock. She turned to me and said, “Mr. Longbottom?” in the stern voice I’ve grown, if not fond of, at least accustomed to.

“I guess I need to work on that spell a bit more,” I said.

McGonagall narrowed her eyes and looked over her square spectacles at me. “I guess so,” she replied dryly. “Twenty points from Gryffindor for magic in the halls and using a faulty spell.” She turned to Malfoy, who was still staring at his wand in horror. “And ten points from Slytherin for pulling your wand on another student. Come along to my office, Mr. Malfoy, and I’ll sort your wand out.” She turned and stalked down the corridor. Malfoy glared at Hermione and me and sneered. “This isn’t over.”

“You’re right,” I rejoined. “Next time I won’t be so nice.” I glared at him while he retrieved his book bag and followed McGonagall down the hall. When he turned the corner, I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding and my nervous tension along with it. Before I could collect my thoughts, my face was buried in a mass of bushy brown hair and two little arms were hugging me with more strength than I imagined possible.

“That was brilliant!” she laughed in my ear. She pulled away, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “You were acting, weren’t you?”

How did she know that I was really scared to death? I wondered, before she continued, “The stuttering and stammering was all just an act! Malfoy didn’t know what hit him! Or his wand, I should say. A balloon animal! How original! How ever did you come up with that?”

Relief washed through me and I was able to grin. She wasn’t aware that I was secretly scared to death facing Malfoy. “Great Uncle Alfie is excellent at Transfiguration.”

“Is this the same uncle that pushed you off the end of a pier?”

“Yes. He’s more fond of me now.”

“I’d say so.” She pulled me into another hug; this one I returned. With a smile still in her voice, I heard her whisper in my ear, “I’m so proud of you.”

And for a moment, all of the humiliation I endured over the years to reach that point was worth it.

The story of my confrontation with Draco spread through the school like wildfire. To say that the story was met with skepticism is putting it mildly. The idea that Neville Longbottom would best Draco Malfoy in a duel was viewed as ridiculous. Doubt was replaced by astonishment when it became common knowledge that Malfoy was without a wand and was not eager or willing to explain why.

I didn’t believe it was possible, but my popularity increased. Not only were an ever-increasing number of girls talking to me in the hall, but blokes were slapping me on the back and congratulating me as if I had won the Tri-wizard Tournament. I’m sure the enthusiasm stemmed more from the intense hatred everyone but the Slytherins had for Malfoy than from appreciation of my wizarding abilities. But I enjoyed the attention just the same.

I could have done without the attention from the Professors. I had steadily improved in all of my classes over the year. The rumor of my performance under pressure must have shifted my progress from the “isn’t that interesting” category into the “maybe he is a Longbottom after all” category. Whatever the motivation, they began calling on me to demonstrate charms and spells with a regularity usually shown only to Hermione. Once over my initial apprehension of being in front of the class evaporated, I began to enjoy it. After three weeks, I was ready to return to my previous role as quiet observer.

What I enjoyed most of all was the pride in which Hermione told the story to a crowd of Gryffindors in the Common Room, including Ron and Harry, just after McGonagall deflated Malfoy’s wand. I kept my eyes down, my cheeks flaming red, as Hermione recounted what happened with minimal embellishment. The crowd was perplexed, incredulity at the idea of me standing up to Malfoy battling the knowledge that Hermione wouldn’t lie about it. They really had no choice but to believe her.

“Bloody brilliant,” Ron said in awe.

“I wish I’d been there to see it,” Lavender said. “After how horrible he’s been to you all these years…it’s about time he got a little back.”

“I could tell Professor McGonagall was impressed,” Hermione stated. “She only docked points because she had to.”

“Of course, Malfoy had less points taken, as usual,” Ron seethed.

“Well, Neville did transfigure his wand,” Hermione said. “Those 10 points are a small price to pay for seeing the look on Malfoy’s face as that balloon deflated in his hand,” Hermione laughed, an involuntary snort coming out of her nose.

“Hermione!” Ron laughed, as Hermione covered her mouth in embarrassment.

“Ron, it was really funny.”

“Good job, Neville,” Harry said, giving me the first back slap. “I just wish I’d been there to see it.”

“Thanks, Harry. Maybe next time,” I joked.

“Knowing Malfoy, I’ve no doubt there will be a next time,” Harry replied.

Hermione, who had been sitting next to me on the lounge, rose and said, “I’m off to bed.” She stepped across my legs and grasped my hand that was resting on the arm of the sofa. Leaning down, she gave me a quick peck on the cheek and squeezed my hand. “See you at breakfast?” she asked.

“Sure,” I replied with what I’m sure was a goofy grin.

She returned my smile and said, “Good night,” with a wave over her shoulder. I watched her walk up the stairs to her room and returned my gaze to the front…and to Harry and Ron. I could tell that Ron was struggling to not glower at me considering I had just humiliated Malfoy. Instead he grunted and retreated to our room. Harry was looking in the direction of the girls’ dormitory with a thoughtful look on his face. When he caught my gaze, he tried to wipe the confusion from his face and stumbled around for something to say before giving up and bidding me good night.

“Hermione, what’s wrong?”

It was a Saturday, four weeks after the Malfoy incident and we were sitting in the library, studying for end of year exams, which were still two months away. My trips to the library were less about studying and more about being with Hermione. But the library was all business to Hermione. Usually. That particular day, I was getting much more accomplished than she was. Which is to say, she was getting nothing done at all. Every time I would look up from my book or parchment, I would find her staring off into space with a stricken look on her face. After about a half hour of this, I finally asked her what was wrong.

The question startled her and she looked surprised to find me sitting across from her. “Nothing, Neville,” she replied with a thin smile and went back to the open book in front of her. I watched her for a few minutes, noting that her eyes never moved. She propped her elbows on the table and rested her forehead in her hands, shielding her face from my view. I saw a large tear drop onto her potions text and heard a dainty sniff. Now I was alarmed.

I leaned forward and reached out to touch her arm. “Hermione?” I whispered.

She shook her head and sniffed again while trying to discretely wipe the tears from her eyes. “Don’t,” she whispered.

“Why are you crying?”

She looked up at me and my heart broke at the distress in her eyes. Her long eyelashes were clumped together with tears and fine red lines ran through the whites of her watery eyes.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said packing our books away as quickly as possible.

Five minutes later, Hermione was sitting at a desk in an abandoned classroom and I was kneeling down in front of her rubbing her legs.

“Hermione, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I can’t, Neville.”

“Why?” I asked, grabbing her hand.

She opened her mouth to say something, then stopped and shook her head. “I can’t.”

I knew immediately what was wrong and why she didn’t want to tell me. I wasn’t surprised, because I knew that eventually she would drop me, but the timing did surprise me. I thought everything had been going rather well.

“It’s all right. I understand,” I said, but I really didn’t. I had grown to like Hermione much more than I intended. I’m not sure if it was Hermione that I liked as much as the idea of having a girlfriend. Regardless, I didn’t want to break up. But I had known going in that she didn’t have strong feelings for me and I wasn’t about to ruin our friendship because I had allowed myself to get too attached to the idea of having a girlfriend.

Relief flooded her face. “You do?”

“Of course. We both knew that we wouldn’t last forever. We will still be friends.”

“Oh!” she said, her eyes widening. “No, that’s not…” She looked away and chewed on her lip. “I’m not chucking you, Neville.”

“You’re not?” I said with relief.

“Do you want to drop me?” she asked timidly.

“NO!” I said, probably a bit too quickly. “I just thought you did. I didn’t want to make it hard on you.”

She smiled. “You are too sweet, Neville Longbottom.”

I rolled my eyes and said, “Yeah, well.” I fought the urge to kiss her; we were alone after all. “Why can’t you tell me what’s wrong, then?”

She paused. “It’s not my place.”

“What?”

“Neville, please. I can’t talk about it.”

Then it hit me. “Harry,” I said before my thoughts coalesced. My mouth went on autopilot and I said the next thing before my mind caught up. “Did he specifically ask you not tell me?”

“No!” she replied. “Why would you think that?”

“He and Ron haven’t exactly been overjoyed about, well, you and me seeing each other.”

“Trust me when I say this has nothing to do with the two of us.”

“Yeah, right,” I mumbled and stood.

“Why do you think that?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, getting a bit angry. “Maybe it is the glares I get from Ron or the silent treatment from Harry.”

“What?” she said, and for a moment I believed she was oblivious to her best friends’ reactions.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed,” I said.

“You think Harry and Ron are jealous?”

“That’s probably not the word they would use, but yes, I reckon they’re jealous.”

“Honestly! That’s ridiculous. They may be a bit protective, but they aren’t jealous. And for your information, they’ve never said one negative thing about the two of us.”

“Maybe they haven’t said it, but they think it.”

“No, they don’t.”

“Then why intentionally have you keep things from me?”

Hermione was clearly struggling not to explain everything to me. “Neville, listen. I swear, this has nothing to do with you. There is a reason, and a very good one, to not tell you. I’m a bit surprised Harry told Ron and me, to be honest.” Her voice dropped a level until it was almost unintelligible. “It took him long enough.”

I like Harry, I really do. But at that moment, I had not one ounce of affection for him. “The timing seems a bit convenient if you ask me.”

“Convenient how?”

“He is clearly jealous of you dating me,” Hermione made a protesting sound but I continued over her objections. “And he told you this knowing you would have to keep it from me.”

“You’re wrong. Harry wouldn’t do that.”

“Ask them.”

“What?”

“Ask Ron and Harry what they think about us.”

She paused, before narrowing her eyes. “Okay, I’ll prove to you that you’re wrong.”

We returned to the Common Room to find Ron and Harry sitting in front of the fire playing wizard’s chess. Hermione went over to them and I went up the staircase to the boys’ dormitory, stopping halfway up to listen.

After a few minutes of greetings, and Ron egging his knight to destroy Harry’s bishop, Hermione blurted out, “What do you two think of me and Neville?”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“I just wondered what you think of Neville and I dating, that’s all.”

“Why?” Ron asked, with a wary tone of voice.

“You’ve never said anything one way or the other, and I find that a bit strange.”

“I like Neville,” Harry offered.

“That’s not what I asked,” Hermione replied.

“Why do you want to know, Hermione?” Ron asked. “Thinking of chucking him?” I wouldn’t swear to it, but I detected a note of hope in his voice.

“No. Why would I?”

“Well,” Ron said, “it is Neville after all.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Hermione said in an icy tone.

“Come on, Hermione. You are so smart and Neville is so …” Ron paused here. I imagined him looking around the room searching for the right word like a snitch, “Neville.”

“Do you mean sweet, courteous, smart and cute?” Hermione replied.

“Sma…” Ron began before I interrupted.

“No, he means bumbling, forgetful, awkward and needy,” I said, trying to keep the anger out of my voice.

The three of them whipped around to look at me, surprise registering on all three faces. In the heat of the moment, Hermione had obviously forgotten that I would be listening to the conversation.

“I told you, Hermione.”

“Told her what?” Ron said.

“That you two didn’t like the idea of us dating.”

“I never said that, Neville,” Harry interjected angrily.

“No, you said nothing much at all, as usual.”

Harry bristled at the insult and Ron’s face was flaming red, from embarrassment or anger I wasn’t sure. Something rose in me, even now I’m not sure what it was, and I plowed on with what I wanted to say — with what I thought they needed to hear.

“At least I had the courage to ask her out which is more than I can say for either of you two.”

Hermione gasped. “Neville!”

For once I wasn’t focused on Hermione. I was watching the reaction of her two best friends. Harry’s eyes widened and locked with mine and he realized that I knew about his feelings for Hermione. Ron’s eyes narrowed and he spoke without thinking.

“If I had any desire to ask Hermione out, I bloody well would have!”

Hermione gave Ron a murderous look. “Thanks for announcing to the entire Common Room how unappealing you find me, Ron. I appreciate it.”

Ron looked chagrined as he realized how horrible what he said sounded. “Hermione, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“And people say I’m stupid,” I said in an undertone.

“What was that?” Ron said standing to face me, his face reddening in realization of what he said earlier.

“I said, and people call me stupid.”

Ron pulled his wand and lunged for me. Harry stepped in front of him and held him back. “Ron, don’t,” Harry said.

“Let him go, Harry,” I replied, holding my wand out in front of me.

“Oh, you stand up to Malfoy once and you think you’re that hard, do you?” Ron scowled.

“Why don’t we find out,” I replied, shaking from the anger coursing through me.

“Neville, what are you doing?” Hermione asked, trying to pull my wand arm down to my side.

“What? You think I’m overreacting?” I asked in a rage. “I’m tired of people making fun of me behind my back! I expect it from the likes of Malfoy. But not from people that I thought were my friends!” I looked at Ron. “I’m just as good a wizard as you are. Probably better. I want the chance to prove it. Let him go, Harry.”

Harry wasn’t restraining Ron anymore, though. Ron was looking at me with a shocked expression on his face.

“I don’t know what your problem is, Ron,” I said. “You never asked Hermione out yourself, but you get jealous when someone else does. The over-protective shite is getting old. I’ve got news for you. You aren’t her boyfriend, and you aren’t her brother. You can glower at me all you want. You can give me the silent treatment,” I continued, turning to look at Harry. “But I fancy Hermione and I’m going to go out with her for as long as she’ll have me.”

This statement was met with resounding silence and I realized that I had caused quite a scene. Ginny and Dean were staring at me, open mouthed from the corner. Lavender and Parvati were stopped at the bottom of the girls’ staircase. Other Gryffindors were scattered throughout the room, paused in the middle of their tasks, gaping openly at the scene I had caused. Hermione was staring at me with a stunned expression. Embarrassment overtook me and I turned and walked out the portrait hole.

As I walked away from Gryffindor Tower, I couldn’t help myself; I had visions of Hermione following me and declaring her undying love. Instead, the voice that called to me was much deeper.

“Wait, Neville,” Harry said.

I stopped but didn’t turn to face him, disappointment that Hermione hadn’t followed and embarrassment at the scene I caused flowing through me. Harry walked to stand in front of me and I heard Hermione’s voice calling out. She ran up to us and stopped, panting slightly. “Honestly, Neville! What has gotten into you lately?” she asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. “You.”

She gasped and her eyes widened to such a degree I thought they might pop out. She bumbled around trying to find something to say when Harry beat her to it. “Hermione, can I talk to Neville alone for a minute?”

“Er…all right,” she said, confused by the turn of events. “I’ll just be in the Common Room.” She looked between the two of us and said, “I guess,” lamely, turned on her heel and walked away.

That was the beginning of the end. And it wasn’t because of my inopportune admission to Hermione. Harry told me what Hermione wouldn’t. I wish he hadn’t.

I knew the threat of her best friend dying would hang over Hermione until the very end. It would taint and cloud everything she did and thought. Every spare minute of her time would be spent trying to help Harry defeat Voldemort. I would be disappointed in her if that wasn’t the case. Hermione had never disappointed me. I knew she wouldn’t now.

Jealousy was not my motivation for breaking up with Hermione two weeks later. It was love. Not my love for Hermione, but Hermione’s love for Harry. I couldn’t stand there and watch the days slip by knowing that each day she, and Ron for that matter, were wondering if they were one day closer to losing their best friend forever. They would look at Harry when he wasn’t aware, a helpless look on their faces and I knew they were thinking about the possibility of him dying. Every time that Hermione went to the library with me, holding my hand, I felt guilty — guilty that I was stealing some of their time together. There was no way I could handle carrying that guilt for the rest of my life.

“Neville, why are you doing this?” she asked in a tiny voice.

“You’re a bright girl, Hermione. You know why,” I replied hoarsely, trying not to cry. I didn’t want to do it at all. “And you know it’s the right thing to do.”

“Right for who?”

“Everyone.”

She looked down and sniffed, tears leaking out of her eyes, tears that I’m sure were more for the truth this admission revealed than for the loss of our romantic relationship.

When her sobs subsided she pulled back, leaving a large wet spot on my shoulder. I didn’t mind in the least.

“I’m going to miss you,” she said.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I replied. Attempting to add a bit of humor to the situation, I added, “The only difference is you won’t get to snog me anymore.”

She playfully punched me in the arm and blushed. “You are a cad, Neville Longbottom.”

We bid goodnight at the bottom of the stairs with a soft kiss, our last. I watched her walk up the stairs to her dormitory room. She turned, gave me a slight wave and a smile, and was gone.

The End

Post Author’s Note: Before I posted this, I asked Nappa for permission. He didn’t read the story, but I told him the general idea, that it would be another pairing, with H/Hr being implied. He approved it, which I appreciate. Thanks for reading.