Summary: It is the seventh year at Hogwarts for the golden trio, whose friendship is tighter than ever (at least for now). Hermione decides she wants to help her friend Neville get a date for the Valentine's Ball. While doing so, she manages to arouse envy in the heart of a certain black-haired, green-eyed Gryffindor. Pairings include H/Hr, R/L, and N/??? You'll have to read the story to find out who Neville ends up with. *winks*
Disclaimer: Much to my dismay, Harry Potter and the entire magical Hogwarts world are still not mine. Rats. Perhaps in another dimension or parallel universe they could belong to me? In this one, however, JK Rowling still holds that honour.
Author's Note: Thanks to all who have read and reviewed this story. Your reviews mean a lot to me and I appreciate every one of them. I will eventually respond; these last weeks have just been rather busy. Don't you hate it when RL gets in the way of fandom, LOL?
HELPING NEVILLE
Chapter Three
If there was a hell on earth, Ron decided, this was it. He was living it.
On one side of him slouched Harry-hair messier than ever, green eyes bleary from lack of sleep-listlessly poking at his soft-boiled egg and grumbling under his breath. On the other side sat Hermione-hair frizzing out wildly in every direction, brown eyes glaring-taking angry little bites out of her toast. Harry gave his egg one final poke; the egg-cup toppled over, rolled to the edge of the table, and crashed to the floor.
"Ron, would you please ask Harry to try for a little consideration? Some of us have headaches this morning," Hermione groused.
"Uh, well . . ." Ron stammered.
"Hey Ron, do you think you can remind Hermione that she's not the only one on the planet with a headache . . ."
"Er . . ."
"Ron," Hermione snapped, "it might be helpful to mention to Harry that I am well aware of that fact, and furthermore the entire planet is not currently seated at this table."
". . . and," continued Harry tightly, "that I didn't drop my egg on purpose. Accidents do happen, you know."
"Of course, mate," Ron said hastily, "could happen to . . ." Once again he was cut off in mid-sentence.
"And please tell Harry," Hermione ground out through clenched teeth, "that some people's carelessness makes them absolute magnets for trouble."
"Yes, well . . ." Ron tried again.
"Good morning everyone! Looks like another great day, eh?" Completely oblivious to the tense atmosphere, Neville plunked himself down across from the trio and helped himself to pumpkin juice.
Ron gazed at Neville like a starving dog at a bone. "Yeah, sure does," he said a little desperately. "Lovely day. Wonderful day. Good thing we have Hagrid's class today-perfect chance to go outside and enjoy the sun."
"Oh, I bet Neville would much rather take a walk, wouldn't you, Neville?" Harry asked with a nasty chuckle.
"A walk?" asked Neville, baffled.
"Yes," Harry said, with what Neville thought was a bit of a sinister laugh. "There's nothing you'd like better than a walk beside the lake and a nice chat, right Nev?"
"Uh, no," Neville responded. "No walks planned for today, Harry. I've got a full load of classes and there's still some homework . . ."
"Reeaaally," said Harry in a dangerous tone. "I thought that you and Hermione would be racing off to the lake again, first chance you got."
"N-no," Neville shot Harry a frightened look. "I've got class first thing."
"Why, Neville Longbottom!" Hermione said brightly, with a horrible grimace disguised as a smile. "Don't tell me you forgot about our date?"
"Date?" Harry asked.
"Date?" squeaked out Neville, turning pale and looking nervously at Harry. "W-what date?"
"Why the one for this afternoon," she said, fixing him with a gimlet eye. "Remember?"
"Uh," managed poor Neville. He jumped to his feet, knocking over his juice goblet. He was not keen on arguing with Hermione when she was in such an obviously bad mood, especially in the Great Hall in front of everyone. At this moment she bore a rather scary resemblance to his grandmother; the only thing missing was the vulture hat.
"Reparo," said Hermione, absently waving her wand in the direction of the mess. She got to her feet and advanced forcefully towards Neville. "Let's go."
"But I haven't had breakfast yet," objected Neville. He glanced uneasily at Hermione, who had almost reached him.
"Fine!" Hermione snatched up some toast, slapped a serviette around it, and thrust the toast at him. "Here, you can eat this. Come on." She seized Neville's arm and tugged him towards the door, leaving Harry steaming, Ron stunned, and the rest of the Gryffindors amused.
"Good one, Harry," said Ginny sardonically. "You ought to hang up your shingle and charge a galleon a turn. You'd make a terrific matchmaker."
"What are you talking about?" he snapped, glaring at Hermione and Neville's retreating figures.
"Oh, come on," she scoffed. "You're not that thick, surely? I can see Ron doing something like that, but . . ."
"Hey," Ron protested. "What'd I do? What is this? Pick on Ron day?"
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Ron, you're a great guy, but you're not exactly Mister Sensitive. But you, Harry! Really, I'm surprised at you. Are you trying to get Neville and Hermione together?"
Harry scowled.
"Because if you are," she continued, "then this last move of yours was nothing short of brilliant!"
"What move," asked Ron, still clueless.
Another eyeroll. "I'm talking about Harry's idiotic comments. 'There's nothing you'd like better than a walk beside the lake and a nice talk, right Nev?' or, my personal favourite," she continued, deepening her voice to mimic Harry's angry tones, "'I thought that you and Hermione would be racing off to the lake again, first chance you got.'"
"Well," Harry snapped, still fuming, "it's the truth, isn't it. Turned out they did have a date, didn't they?"
"Harry," Ginny sighed wearily, "you really don't have the foggiest, do you? All right, let me explain. There. Was. No. Date."
"There wasn't?" Ron frowned. "What are you on about, Gin? You heard Hermione."
"Yeah," added Harry with a frown. "She said they had a date."
Ginny sighed again. "Yes, I heard her, and I said there was no date. However, there is one now."
"Huh?" chorused Ron and Harry.
"That's right," she continued. "Neville and Hermione now have a date, thanks to you, Harry. You forced them into it"
"Me?!" Harry's voice went up a full octave. He coughed and attempted to compose himself and bring his voice back into a more manly register. "What . . . how . . .?"
"You verbally abused Neville, Harry. By blowing everything out of proportion, you made Neville feel attacked. You also hurt Hermione's feelings by questioning her choices."
"Verbally abused . . . feelings . . . questioning . . . have you been reading those bloody Muggle magazines again, Gin?" asked Ron suspiciously. "Because you sound just like those psychotrist nutters in the Muggle advice columns you like so much."
"Psy-cho-lo-gist, Ron, not psychotrist," Ginny said impatiently. "And so what if I've been reading Muggle magazines? Maybe a little exploration of the female psyche would do you two some good!"
"'Female psyche?' Bloody hell, Ginny, would you listen to yourself," Ron said incredulously.
Ginny tossed her head and ignored him.
"I never 'questioned her choices,'" protested Harry. "I never said a word about choices or anything else to her-in fact, I haven't spoken to Hermione since last night. I was talking to Neville. And you heard her, she and Neville had already made a date for today before I even opened my mouth!"
"You have to look beyond what a girl says and listen to what she really means, Harry."
"How the hell is he supposed to do that?" asked Ron indignantly. "He's not a bloody mind-reader. Although that's what girls seem to expect," he continued under his breath.
"He doesn't need to be a mind-reader, Ron," explained Ginny. "However, Harry could be a little more sensitive to Hermione's feelings in all this, especially after that display of temper he put on last night."
"Hello?" Harry interjected irritably. "I'm still here you know."
Ginny gave them an exasperated look. "Listen guys. Girls aren't all that difficult to understand."
Two incredulous stares greeted this comment.
"Nobody likes having their every move questioned or scrutinized, and that's what you were doing to Hermione, Harry. Not to mention," she continued, ignoring Harry's sputtered objections, "that you've been completely beastly to Neville lately."
"What?" Harry said angrily. "I've never . . . I didn't . . . I like Neville!"
"Yeah, well," Ginny gave him a look, "you could've fooled me. If you like Neville, what would be so terrible about him going out with Hermione?"
"I . . . he . . . she . . ." Harry glared speechlessly.
"Exactly," said Ginny with satisfaction.
* * * * *
Ronald Bilius Weasley was miserable. Everything in his world had turned upside down, and he didn't know what to do about it. No he didn't. For four days now, four of the longest days of his life, Harry and Hermione had been bickering. And when they weren't bickering, they were glaring, or sighing, or giving each other the silent treatment, or otherwise acting totally unlike themselves. Ron had entered a parallel universe where up was down and down was up. Hermione was supposed to bicker with him, not with Harry!
To make matters worse, they had both chosen him as their confidant. When Harry wasn't on a tear about the latest Hermione-Neville incident (half of which, Ron was convinced, were all in his best friend's rapidly-deteriorating mind), then Hermione was bending his ear over how insensitive and unfeeling Harry was being towards her. During one particularly horrible talk, Hermione had actually broken down and cried! Cried! Ron shuddered at that dreadful memory.
"I don't care what Ginny said the other day," Ron grumbled to Harry as they made their way to breakfast that morning, "girls are mad. All of them-completely and utterly mad. And confusing? HA! All this hidden-meaning stuff and all these emotions hiding behind the simplest sentence: why can't they just say what they mean and put us out of our misery? Is that too much to ask? And now as if things weren't bad enough, this stupid ball comes along to put the final nail in our coffin. Have you thought about who you're going to ask, Harry? We'd better hop to it and ask somebody," Ron noted glumly. "Somehow I don't think Parvati and Padma will be jumping at the chance to go with us again, eh?"
Harry did not respond.
"Of course if you get desperate enough, I'll bet I could get Ginny to take pity on you."
A grunt from Harry.
"Or," Ron snorted with laughter, "there's always Winky!"
Another cross grunt.
"Ginny was right about one thing, though," Ron continued, eying Harry uneasily. "You have been a bit of a git with Neville lately, mate. I can understand why you're being snappish with Hermione; she's completely mental, but Neville . . ."
"No she isn't," argued Harry, fixing Ron with an unblinking stare. "She's brilliant."
"Uhh . . . right," Ron agreed, wondering who this bloke was and what he'd done with Ron's best friend.
It was almost enough to put a man off his food.
* * * * *
Harry felt like the worst kind of scum. Not only was Hermione not speaking to him, but he had also managed to alienate Neville to the point that the tension in the seventh-year boys' dormitory was unbearable. Mealtimes weren't much better. He could feel every pair of eyes in Gryffindor scrutinizing his smallest move. Breakfast this morning had been another miserable affair, with Hermione ignoring him and speaking only to Ron, Neville, Ginny, Seamus . . . everyone but him, actually. Finally, he had dragged Ron away from the table on the pretense of needing to talk to him about a secret Quidditch move they were supposedly planning for the next match (which was over three weeks away).
Logically, Harry was aware that he was acting like a total prat. He knew that Ginny was right and his behaviour was hurting both Hermione and Neville (not to mention himself), but he couldn't seem to stop. It was like his brain and mouth were no longer connected. This couldn't go on. He needed to get a grip, or else he was going to lose the friendship of the best girl in all of Hogwarts. And as much as he hated to admit it, Ron was right about the ball. Just last night they had witnessed Seamus asking Lavender, who had accepted with a peal of giggles. He knew for a fact that Dean was planning to ask Parvati and had a sinking feeling he knew who Hermione was going with. Probably no decent girls left, he thought gloomily. If this kept up, Winky would be looking pretty good to him.
"I'm an idiot," he proclaimed to Ron. "What's the matter with me? Why do I always open my big mouth lately and say just the exact thing that will make Hermione mad? And what's wrong with her? She takes everything I say the wrong way and we're always at each other's throats. I can't take this any more."
Silence.
"Ron?"
"Yeah?"
"What should I do?"
"You're asking me?" Ron snorted in disbelief. "Harry, in case you haven't noticed, the only reason Hermione and I aren't fighting right now is because she's too busy fighting with you. I'm not the person to ask. But," he plowed ahead, "for starters, you might want to lay off Neville. And I'm not saying you're in the wrong here, but apologising to Hermione would probably not be a bad idea. What's more important: keeping Hermione's friendship or keeping her away from Neville? Not that you've been all that successful in doing that either, mind!"
"Hmmff."
"You've made the whole situation a lot worse, actually."
"Thanks Ron."
"In fact, if you continue on the way you've been going," he added with a laugh, "they'll be engaged by Christmas."
"Thanks Ron; I get it. You really know how to cheer a guy up."
Harry was silent the rest of the way to class, obviously deep in thought. When he and Ron got to Transfiguration, Hermione was already seated and busily scribbling away. Taking a deep breath for courage, Harry sat down beside her, darting a quick glance at her parchment. Studiously ignoring him, Hermione continued to write frantically, only stopping when Professor McGonagall entered the room. Harry was now staring openly at Hermione, who was trying to pretend she didn't notice.
"Good morning class," Professor McGonagall said briskly. "Today we'll be attempting a very interesting but complicated spell."
Hermione visibly brightened and leaned forward eagerly, while the rest of the class looked depressed.
"In order to do this successfully," McGonagall continued, "you will be working in pairs. You will have no need for desks," she said, and waved her wand. All desks vanished and books, quills, and parchments flew neatly back into book-bags. "Everyone on their feet"-- another wave of the wand dispatched the chairs.
Harry, who appeared to have come to some sort of decision, quickly pushed his way next to Hermione. Except for the two bright spots of colour on her cheeks, she paid him no attention.
"Excellent," said Professor McGonagall. "Please pick a partner and we'll get started."
Hermione turned and made her way determinedly towards Ron.
"Let's partner up then," she said grumpily.
"Sorry Hermione," Parvati smirked, not sounding sorry in the least, "but I already asked Ron to work with me."
"Oh," Hermione hesitated. "How about you, Seamus?"
"I'm paired up with Lavender," said Seamus regretfully.
"I'll be your partner."
Hermione turned around to find Harry at her elbow.
"Um," she said, nonplussed, "I . . . "
"Everyone ready?" asked Professor McGonagall, interrupting her. "Right then." And she began explaining the lesson. "This is a very difficult transfiguration," she continued, "and most of you will need several class periods to achieve the final result. I suggest you study the steps carefully," with a wave of her wand, instructions appeared on the board, "and practice one step at a time. I'll be working my way around the room and will help each of you in turn. This is one lesson where talking will be allowed, since you will need to discuss each step of the transfiguration with your partner. Please begin."
"Well," Hermione began speaking very quickly without looking at Harry. "Let's check out step one, shall we? Now, step one says to first practice the incantation before learning the wand movement, but I remember reading that . . ." she stopped abruptly at the touch of Harry's hand on her arm.
"Hermione," Harry whispered urgently, "I want to talk to you."
"Rag on me, you mean," Hermione stated with raised eyebrow.
"NO! Talk to you . . . with you," Harry said, his face a dull red. "Come over here," he insisted, tugging her toward a back corner.
Frowning slightly, Hermione allowed herself to be pulled.
"Well," she said, folding her arms.
Harry looked down at his feet. "Um, I wanted to . . . um" he hesitated, still blushing, "I wanted to . . ."
"Yes?"
"Apologize. I wanted to . . . apologise."
"Hmmmm. And what are you apologising for?"
"Come on, Hermione," he said desperately. "You know what for."
"You mean for treating me like a wayward child and behaving insufferably towards Neville?"
"Yeah, that," Harry admitted. "I don't know what's come over me lately, but I don't want to keep on fighting with you, Hermione. I miss . . . I miss you. I miss us . . . all of us," he clarified hastily, blushing an even brighter red, "all of us together . . . you and Ron and me. I want things to go back to the way they were."
Hermione's stern look softened. "I miss you too, Harry. But things can't go back to the way they used to be if you keep jumping down mine and Neville's throats constantly."
"Yeah, I know," Harry said sheepishly. "Sorry about that."
At the same time he was thinking to himself, '. . . mine and Neville's throats?' Since when does Hermione refer to Neville and herself as a unit? I guess if I want to keep her as a friend, I'm going to have to learn to deal with it. Maybe Ginny was right and I've been blowing this whole thing out of proportion. It's the pressure of seventh year and the whole thing with Voldemort looming ahead of me; that's why I'm feeling so out of sorts. Hermione has always been there for me and I should be there for her, no matter which way this thing with Neville goes.
"Oh, Harry," Hermione said with a sniff, "It's all right. And I'm sorry for a lot of the things I've said. It's just that you got me so angry and made me feel, well, hurt because you seemed to think the worst of me!" She looked at him and he saw with alarm that her eyes had welled up with tears.
"It's okay," Harry responded, worried that she was about to start sobbing in the middle of class. "We're both sorry. We'll talk more about this later, okay?"
"Okay."
"So, is Neville taking you to the ball?"
"Harry!"
"Sorry."