DISCLAIMER:

I do not own these characters. They are all owned by J. K. Rowling, the only creative control I have is the plot.

Something Good

One-Shot

Hermione's POV

"Ouch!" I screeched as I bit down on the tip of my finger, missing my hangnail once again. "Blast!" I sucked on the tip of it as blood began seeping out from under my nail in a steady stream.

"Maybe if you'd actually look down at your book for once and do some studying you'd walk away with all your fingers still intact," Ginny said as she looked over at me from across the table, with a smug smile on her face.

"Easy for you to say," I mumble as I look down at my middle finger, and glare at the infamous hangnail. "You haven't been dealing with this vile thing for the past eight days now have you?"

She rolled her eyes as I looked over at her, and began gathering her belongings. "Fine," she sighed. "You stay here and bother with that, I am going back to the common room to get some real work done. See you at dinner?"

I nodded as she stood from the table. "Yeah, see you then," and watched as she walked away. I turned my attention back down to the book in front of me, but it wasn't long that the words in front of me all became a blur as I got lost in my own thoughts. Not of the hangnail that had been serving as a perfect distraction for the past eight days, but of the events that had transpired just before.

It was twilight; a warm, gentle breeze had been blowing outside, and I had decided to go on a short trek around the castle. Harry, Ron and Ginny had been huddled up together around the fire in the common room, joking and laughing about trivial things, and I had just wanted to be alone and enjoy the peaceful silence that came in the late spring evening.

I had ended up at the ancient weeping willow; a magnificent view of the black lake and surrounding forests, and had decided to perch myself against its trunk. I had closed my eyes, and apparently ended up drifting off, because when I opened my eyes again, I was surrounded in total darkness, and the blissful warmth that had blanketed me before had turned into a biting cold. Shivering, I folded my arms around myself and slid myself back up to my feet by climbing my back upwards against the smooth bark of the side of the tree.

Surrounded in darkness, I couldn't see a thing and didn't have the mind to pull out my wand to guide my way. I let out a yelp as I went tumbling to the ground and face planted, slamming my shoulder against a large, sharp tree root. I didn't have time to search for what had tripped me as the source called out to me.

"Are you all right?" Neville had asked frantically. "Hell, I didn't know anybody else was out here, you were so quiet, I couldn't see you! I'm sorry."

"It's fine Neville," I told him, rolling over and pushing myself to sit. A sharp pain hit my forehead and sent me flying backwards yet again, and he hollered out in his own pain. We had butted heads.

"Hermione?" he asked. "Oh, ow, that hurt. Are you all right?" I could just make out his figure in the dark; his hand clamped down over his forehead as he squinted in my direction.

"Yes," I said, mimicking his actions. "I'm fine, Neville," I laughed as I pulled myself to sit back up, sliding my feet beneath me and balancing myself up with my free hand placed against the grass. "Are you? I mean I only tripped over you then bashed myself against you. Not one but two assaults."

"What?" he had sounded confused as I watched him steady himself into a sitting position, still clutching his forehead. "No, it was me who tripped you, and let's agree to disagree on the head butt; that was also my fault. Wouldn't have happened if I hadn't of tripped you first," he said. "I'm only glad it was you," he added after a moment.

"Me?" I had asked him. "Do you often fantasize about injuring me?" I joked, massaging my forehead one last time before pulling my hand away and setting it into my lap.

"Not exactly," he had hesitated. "It's just that, well… you're always so much nicer to me than everybody else. Like, you treat me like you actually want me around. Like I'm not just some third wheel, or doormat."

"Of course not, Neville," I said, reaching my hand out to find his. When I did, I cupped it beneath mine and smiled. "I care about you, of course I want you around. Everybody else it just jealous of how smart you are. You make them feel dumb, and as you should."

I heard him breathe a smile. His hand slowly moved beneath mine, twisting to string his fingers around mine. "Do you really think so?" he had asked softly.

"Yes," I told him honestly. "I do. They don't deserve you," I squeezed his hand. "All the things you know about herbology and different marine life? Neville, you are brilliant. And," I added smugly. "That is quite a compliment coming from me."

"Of the highest order," he beamed. "Coming from you, Hermione Granger."

"Exactly," I nodded. "So you know that it absolutely has to be true. Which it is, coming from me," I had never noticed before, but how easy it was to be comfortable with Neville, it was like breathing. A shiver filled my body, shaking all of me and covering me in a thick layer of gooseflesh.

"You're cold," he stated, pulling his hand from mine. "You should have said something," he told me as he placed his jacket around my shoulders. I crossed my arms over my chest and tugged it tightly around me, unconsciously inhaling the scent of it: cinnamon and pine, the smell of Neville, and I smiled.

I looked back in his direction, and could tell by the lack of breeze that he had moved closer towards me. Also, my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and I could make out his form perfectly beside me. "It's beautiful tonight," I sighed, wishing without realizing it, that I wanted to feel his hand around mine again, to feel his strong, long, warm fingers within my own. Everything around us was in complete blackness, but the stars above us shone brightly.

"Yes," he had agreed, looking over at me. "It is." I looked back over at him, and smiled.

"I'm sort of glad you tripped me tonight," I said, looking back down to my lap and tugging at a loose thread on my jeans. I couldn't see it, but I had remembered finding it earlier that day, and my fingers quickly found it in the darkness.

"Me, too," he agreed. "If not, we'd probably both be back in our dorm, sleeping, instead of here, talking," he pulled his gaze from me, and looked down in his own lap. I had never noticed before, but leaned back, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, hair disheveled, how unimaginably sexy he was. "Hermione, I…" he hesitated, speaking slowly. "I've…"

"Yes, Neville?" I asked him, leaning towards him to hear him better. "What is it?"

He furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head. "Never mind. It's not important."

"You know you can tell me anything Neville," I pressed.

"It's just you're so… So smart, and funny, kind… You care about everyone, and don't just pretend to, but genuinely care. You're helpful, patient and understanding. Amazing to talk to… Beautiful, if not drop dead gorgeous. Inside and out. I, Hermione, I… I've fancied you for years, since the first time I met you… it's just kept getting stronger… And now, sitting here, in the starlight, alone, talking to you… I just couldn't hold it in any longer…" he trailed softly, looking over at me, biting his lower lip. "Please," he whispered. "Please say something. Anything."

And I hadn't. I had fumbled around foolishly, tripping over my own feet as I struggled to run back to the castle, leaving him alone in the night. He had poured his heart to me, and instead of saying something – anything, as he had so pleaded – I had run away like a scared little girl. And I had been kicking myself ever since, regretting it and wishing I could undo it all…

I slammed the book closed in front of me and dropped my head into my hands, letting out a long, unsteady breath. Neville always gets shafted, always. He had told me in his own words he feels unwanted, like a doormat and a third wheel, and what do I do? The one person he has ever confided his heart to? I turn around and do the same everybody else has done to him, and that is shut him out. He never gets anything good… I am such a cold, heartless woman. A bitch, who doesn't deserve his friendship, let alone affection.

I regret it all, running away, ignoring him in silence… I regret it all because, well, because I feel exactly the same way…

A single tear escaped the corner of my eye as I opened them, and going to brush it away, I just let it fall. Thinking to myself how stupid I am, and how a little embarrassment by people seeing me cry is nothing, nothing compared to what I made Neville feel when I left him alone that night. I deserve the humiliation public crying will give me.

"Hermione?" his voice asked, and I nearly jumped when I felt his hand cup around my shoulder: solid and warm, real. "Why are you crying?" he asked as he took a slow seat beside me on the bench, keeping his concerned expression on my face without blinking.

"Because," I said, forcing myself to face him. "Because I hurt a very nice person; a friend, and I don't deserve their company. Or their friendship anymore."

His eyes saddened deeper, and his thumb rubbed small circles against my shoulder. "That's not true. It's not."

"But I hurt you, Neville," I told him, fighting off more tears at my cruelness. "You poured your heart out to me, and I ran away… I ran away," I hesitated unsteadily, forcing myself to keep my eyes locked with his. "I ran away, even though everything you told me was true for me, too. Everything you said you feel for me, I feel it for you, too. I always have."

A smile washed over his face, but was quickly replaced with confusion. "Then why did you run?"

"Because I am a coward," I tell him in a huff. "A moron. A stupid, brainless idiot. Gryffindor, I donno why they placed me in Gryffindor, I belong in Hufflepuff. I should have been put in-" my words are muffled as he slams his lips against mine, kissing me hungrily.

I try to speak, to bash myself some more, but am cut off by his lips once more. "Hermione," he whispered, barley able to keep his lips away from mine. I ran my hands up his chest and to his shoulders, onto the sides of his neck with my fingers pulling at his hair. I can't think of what I was about to say to him; to myself, all I can think about is the feeling of his lips against mine, how badly I want it again.

"Yes, Neville?" my voice is a soft whimper, begging for more.

"Just stop insulting yourself already, and kiss me," he tells me with a sexy grin, looking from my eyes to my lips, and back again.

"Okay," and I pull his face to mine, kissing him deeply and endlessly.

THE END