They'd Never Love You
"Are you kidding? I'll have her on her knees begging me for a date before the week is out!" cried Neville, boldly. He had been engaged in a heated argument against Harry, Hermione, and Ron, over his chances with a certain female that he had his eye on.
"Neville," Hermione calmed, setting a hand on the boy's shoulder to keep him from jumping out of the green cloth-covered chair that he sat in. The books perched precariously on the shelves of the library wouldn't do any kindness to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place if they were spread about the floor, pages everywhere, as would certainly happen if Mr. Longbottom was allowed to run rampant with his passionate feelings about the subject being discussed. "She's too old for you, Neville," Hermione continued, running out of reasons for why he shouldn't pursue his love.
"Only Seven years, Three Months, 2 weeks, and six days." He replied, curtly. Ron was, frankly, surprised that the boy hadn't calculated the age difference down to the second. Harry had the sinking feeling in his stomach that told him age wouldn't be a good argument. The difference between the woman and the object of her own affections was twice that. He supposed that it might be easiest if he came right out and explained to Neville about how the woman he lusted after's heart was taken- and even if it wasn't, the idea of the pair hooking up was an illegal one.
Hermione decided to try a different approach. "How about you go for someone a little… bit… in your range?" she suggested, trying to put the fact that his love probably had no interest in him, and never would in the nicest words possible.
"Yeah," Harry added, "Hannah Abbot is really nice, and she…erm…likes Herbology, like you do." He conveniently left out their other similarities. Hannah's mother had been killed by Death Eaters in the past year.
Neville would not be swayed. "I don't believe you guys," he began, taking a defensive stance, and using more courage than he had shown in all six previous years as a Gryffindor. "I'm going to talk to her when she gets back from the Ministry-"
"-and proclaim your undying love?" Hermione interrupted. "Oh, Neville, that's a terrible idea." As a woman herself, she knew how awkward it would be to know that someone whom you have no romantic feelings toward, was watching your every move, wishing dearly to be the one that you depended upon, and wrapped your arms around.
"She's taller than you!" Ron said, reprimanding, as if this one fact was the end-all, sure to change his steadfast mind. "A full eight centimeters, at that!" Neville had slimmed down, and sprouted up in the last few years, but that didn't change the fact that this woman was not a petit one. Ron glanced over at Hermione, reminding himself that he was fifteen more off the ground than a certain genius-like brunette.
"That doesn't matter at all," Neville responded, folding his arms over his chest, and looking cross.
Ron leaned over to Harry and whispered something in his ear. "I don't know why Hermione is so bent on discouraging him now. We're making no leeway. It would be much easier if we just let him go about the plan of his and get his dreams crushed into millions of tiny pieces," he mumbled, in a low tone so that the other occupants of the room would not overhear.
Harry nodded in agreement, and suggested this to Hermione, who didn't seem to possess the ability to be quiet about something. "NO!" she exclaimed, defiantly. "We cannot just let him go about this on his own," she stated, calming down a bit, but talking as if the boy wasn't in the room. "He'll do something insane, like try to turn her into a water lily, or dump a vat of bubotuber pus onto Percy!"
"What do those have to do with anything?" Neville asked, with a look of confusion on his face. Not hearing the first parts of the conversation left him significantly out of the loop.
Ron had a look of joy and amusement on his face. "Actually, 'mione, the second thing wouldn't be so bad…" he said, trailing off, most likely imagining his older brother covered in boils that the terrible substance caused.
Neville stood up abruptly from his chair. "I don't care what you guys think! I'm in love with Tonks, and I'm going to tell her," he stated, plainly, and walked out of the room, shutting the door with a bang.
Hermione cringed at the noise. "I failed," she said, standing up. Dramatically, she pretended to faint, sweeping one hand so that its back touched her forehead, then falling backwards, into Ron's outstretched arms. She began to laugh. "So, do you think we should warn her?" she asked, through giggles.
"I imagine that'd be rather awkward. At least this way, Neville can be the first one she hears it from," Harry pointed out. "I just hope it doesn't upset her."
"Yeah," Ron interjected. "She's been touchy on the subject of love lately. The hair is back to fluorescents again, but those dark eyes of hers haven't been sparkling. I tried mentioning something that happened on a Valentine's Day, and I was afraid that she'd start bawling then and there."
"It's really odd, what love does to people." Hermione said, as an explanation, smiling at Ron. "And when did you start staring into Tonks's eyes?"
Ron went a deep crimson. "You know very well that I didn't mean it like that. They're just usually, so… glittering. You can't help but notice, right, Harry?"
His friend's nose was currently buried in a book on the some sort of Goblin Rebellion, and he had no intentions of getting in this conversation. "Harry?" Ron prodded, as Hermione suppressed giggles. She found it immensely hilarious, this flustered Ron.
"I can't help you here, pal," Harry said, with a chuckle, not looking up from the pages. He was not really reading, but letting himself think back to Tonks's own dilemma. She had been so upset the previous year, and it seemed that everyone was grateful for her recovery, but he could tell that it was not a full one. The way she looked at him told Harry that things still weren't working out how she'd like them to. He was probably still insisting upon the same old arguments against it.
"Stop it, Won-Won," Hermione laughed, she had taken to using Lavender's embarrassing nickname for her friend, just to irk him. Harry glanced up from his book, and noticed that Ron had taken one of the red, silk-covered pillows with the golden tassels off the couch and was now chasing his female friend around the room, threatening to hit her with it.
'Ah, Love.' Harry thought, smiling to himself.
Author's Note: I'll get up another chapter ASAP.