Written for MissWitchx's HPFC Occasion-A-Day Challenge/Competition, Prompt: September 12th: Chocolate Milkshake Day - Write something sweet and sugary ("fluff overload"). Also fulfills the HPFC If You Dare Challenge #826: Chocolate and the HPFC 1991 Challenge: Hannah Abbott.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J. K. Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended.
Ernie glanced around the Hufflepuff common room. Finding the coast clear, he folded his arms over the back of the big floral print armchair and leaned down until his head was nearly level with Susan's ginger Dutch braid. "So," he said in her ear. "Who all's coming?"
Susan jumped and whipped her head around, raking the end of a bobby pin across his cheek. "Ernie!" she cried. "Don't do that!"
Ernie pulled back and rubbed the scratch on his cheek. "Ouch. Don't worry, I won't do it again. That hurt."
Susan sighed and leaned over to pick up a scrap of parchment that had fallen to the floor. "Serves you right," she said, settling back into the chair.
Ernie leaned in again, more cautiously this time. "I just wanted to know who all has R.S.V.P.'d."
"Because the invitations were so official, yes," Susan said, rolling her eyes. She consulted the parchment scrap she had retrieved from the floor. "Of course, you and me and Sally-Anne are all coming. And Justin. Megan's not; she says she hasn't even started the big Transfiguration essay that's due Monday."
"No, and she won't start it if she stays behind tomorrow, either," Ernie said snidely.
Susan shrugged. "Well then, you can be the one to tell her to put it off and come with us rather than stay here and pretend to do it. See how well that goes over."
"Not worth the trouble," Ernie replied.
"Uh-huh. Thought so." Susan drew another line through Megan's name. "Wayne's coming, Roger's coming, Leanne's coming. Oliver's got the flu, so he's staying here." Susan paused. "And Neville's coming."
It took a beat or two for the last name to register. "Longbottom!" Ernie burst out. "He isn't even a Hufflepuff!"
"No," Susan said evenly. "But Hannah fancies him. And Sally-Anne and I rather think he fancies her back."
Ernie frowned. "I thought the plan was for the Hufflepuff fifth-years—just the Hufflepuff fifth-years—to take Hannah out for her birthday. Longbottom never even entered into it."
"He did as far as Sally-Anne and I were concerned, and we did most of the planning," Susan returned.
"Can't we do anything without the Gryffindors interfering?" Ernie demanded.
"If it matters that much to you, you know Neville might as well be a Hufflepuff. He would fit our house better than he fits Gryffindor," Susan said. "And anyway, he's been invited, and he's accepted. I'm not going to tell him he can't come now because you've got some silly hang up over it."
Ernie gave her a disgusted look and walked off without another word.
"Jerk," Susan said under her breath. She returned to her Charms essay.
Hannah let herself be swept along by her friends the next morning as they made the trip to Hogsmeade. She said very little, mostly because she wasn't sure what to think. Not a single person had wished her a happy birthday today, not even Ernie, but she was determined not to be upset over it yet; in all the stories where that happened, everyone was planning a lovely surprise party, and the person whose birthday it was wound up looking rather foolish for feeling hurt. The other Hufflepuff fifth-years had all been staying together so far, and, to her secret delight, Neville had joined their group in the Entrance Hall as Filch was checking off the students who were going.
On the other hand, Hannah wondered if she might not be expecting too much. She could hardly matter so much to them that they would all—even Neville!—conspire to throw her a surprise birthday party, even for her sixteenth. It seemed selfish to even imagine it.
And yet, they were now definitely headed in the direction of Honeydukes…
It had been half an hour, and still there was no mention of her birthday. So it had all been coincidence, after all. Hannah made her way over to the counter where she could sit and feel quietly sorry for herself in peace, hopefully without anyone noticing. It wasn't like Ernie to forget, or Susan, or Sally-Anne. She didn't need a party, not at all, but a little acknowledgement would have been nice. Ah, well.
Just as she reached the counter, she felt strong hands take her waist, spin her around, and lift her, not onto the stool, but right onto the counter. She squealed. Ernie, his face red, was looking up at her with a very self-satisfied smile. Then with a wink, he pointed his wand at his throat and said, "Sonorus."
"ATTENTION, EVERYONE!"
The noise in the crowded shop hushed at Ernie's amplified voice. All eyes turned toward them, and Hannah felt herself go very red. She hadn't realized there were quite so many people in here.
"TODAY IS HANNAH ABBOT'S SIXTEENTH BIRTHDAY!"
The entire shop clapped and cheered. Ernie led a rousing rendition of "Happy Birthday," followed by "For She's a Jolly Good Fellow" and a "HIP HIP HOORAY! HIP HIP HOORAY! HIP HIP HOORAY!"
By now, Hannah was thoroughly embarrassed, not only by the attention, but by the fact that for all her mental preparation, she had still fallen into the same trap as the people in stories. At least no one had seen her moping about it.
Ernie quieted his voice at last, and Hannah looked down to find the Hufflepuff fifth-years—and Neville—gathered around her. Susan produced a bag from inside her robes and set it on the counter.
"Anything you want from Honeydukes, it's on us," Susan told her with a grin. "We've all chipped in."
"Oh! Oh!" Hannah gasped. "It's too much, really it's too much!" She slid down off the counter and hugged each of them in turn (including Neville).
"Now, now, that's all well and good," Ernie said, taking charge again. "But you've stalled quite long enough. The money is yours to spend."
Hannah blushed again. "You all really are too sweet."
They all began making protests and telling her to go ahead and stop being so shy. But there was only one person she really heard, and that was the quietest of all.
It was Neville murmuring, "No sweeter than you are."
Candy flew off the shelves—Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, Fizzing Whizzbees, Glacial Snow Flakes, Ice Mice, Pumpkin Pasties, Liquorice Wands, Jelly Slugs, and Exploding Bonbons. There was some for all. Laughter, smiles, and the occasional squeal abounded. Hannah was in the midst of it all, practically glowing.
And Neville waited. He waited while Hannah basked in the attention of the other Hufflepuffs, knowing himself to be the odd one out, the only Gryffindor. He waited while the others gorged themselves on sweets, himself only occasionally popping an Every Flavour Bean, because he knew it was easier for him than for the others to gain weight; he'd finally managed to lose the last of it over the summer, and he wanted to keep it that way. And he waited while Ernie Macmillan repeatedly drew attention to himself and showed off for Hannah. It didn't mean he wasn't jealous. But he waited.
Ernie was coming again, with what looked like a Chocolate Frog box in his hand. He bowed elaborately to Hannah and presented the box, saying over the noise in the shop, "I have searched long and hard, and at last I have found the perfect gift." Several of the girls tittered.
The box had clearly already been opened. It was not the candy but the trading card that was the "perfect gift," and Hannah's gasp when she pulled the box open confirmed that it was well-chosen. Neville had seen Hannah and Ernie trading Chocolate Frog cards in the Great Hall before. He must have known which wizards and witches she still needed.
Hannah seemed to have forgotten the frog itself, for it took a flying leap and landed on the counter a few feet away. Ernie lunged after it.
"In your joy over the discovery of Mirabella Plinkett," he said pompously, "you have lost the treat itself. I return it to you." He bowed again and held out the Chocolate Frog, cupped in both hands.
Hannah hesitated, the smile on her face oddly faltering for a moment. Then she took the frog and bit its head off, to much laughter and applause.
About an hour later, the party was starting to wind down. The attention had shifted off Hannah somewhat as people became overloaded on sugar or began to discuss plans for Christmas vacation or ducked out to make a run to Zonko's. Only two people remained focused on Hannah: Ernie, who was sitting on the stool next to her and talking (mostly about himself), and Neville, sitting a little ways off and still quietly watching.
He was about finished with just watching, though. Hannah seemed to be becoming increasingly uncomfortable, and Ernie was, to all appearances, oblivious. Neville had been waiting for a while now—not just at Honeydukes, but all the time—to make a move toward Hannah. It was hard to tell what was going on with Ernie, and Neville didn't want to butt in where he wasn't wanted. Sometimes Ernie seemed decent, and sometimes he just seemed like a jerk, like now. And sometimes Hannah seemed to like him, and sometimes she seemed to find him obnoxious, like now. This was the best opportunity Neville had had to observe them together, and his opinion was pretty well formed. But the fact that Ernie wasn't worthy of Hannah didn't mean that he himself was. If anything, he was probably less worthy.
Except, that wasn't true, because at least he really cared about Hannah. Ernie seemed to care mostly about himself. So when Ernie got up to grab another box of toffees, Neville made his way over to Hannah and laid a hand on her arm, trying to ignore the way his stomach felt when her brown eyes turned to meet his. "Can—Can I talk to you for a minute, Hannah?"
She gave a tentative smile and nodded. He helped her down off the stool, and they made their way outside the sweet shop. The cold air felt good after the heat and closeness of Honeydukes.
He stopped her at the corner. "Are you all right?"
She stared at him, not speaking. She was very pale, and she stood slightly doubled over, as though in pain.
"Sorry, I didn't actually have something I needed to talk to you about," Neville added. "You—You just looked like you needed to get away from Ernie for a while."
Hannah blinked. "Thank you. I—" She put a hand to her mouth. "I was—"
All at once, Hannah fell to her knees and began retching into the snow. Neville stood for a moment in astonishment; then he dropped down next to her. She was crying, too, and shaking. He put an arm around her and used the other to hold back her hair. "It's okay," he said softly. "It's all right. You'll be all right."
At last she rocked back, her arms pressed against her stomach. Tears were still streaming down her face. Neville let go of her hair and pulled out his wand, whispering "Tergeo" to get rid of the mess. Then he handed her a handkerchief, which she used to wipe first her eyes, then her mouth.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I—The Chocolate Frog—I'm lactose intolerant. I should've just said so. But he gives me Chocolate Frogs all the time, and he's so sweet, I can't say no. I just take them and act like I'll eat them later. Then I take the cards and throw the frogs away. But I couldn't do that there." She rocked back and forth, moaning slightly.
Neville nodded and rubbed her back.
"Do you like him?" he asked her suddenly. He wasn't sure where the sudden courage to ask had come from.
Hannah turned her head to look at him. "Of course not. Ernie's just a friend."
Neville thought he would melt with happiness—although, of course, that was only half of the question.
"Good," he said. "He doesn't deserve you."
A flush of red came into her pale cheeks.
"Do you—" he started. "Could you—"
She looked at him expectantly.
He couldn't do it. He couldn't ask.
He'd come too far to turn back.
"Do you think you could ever—like—me?" The last word was a squeak.
Hannah's eyes widened. "I—I do. I have for a couple months."
Neville felt a huge, utterly ridiculous grin spreading across his face. "You do? Really? You mean it?"
She nodded. "Does—Does that mean you like me?"
"Do I?" He could have picked her up and spun her around if she hadn't been feeling so miserable.
The happy moment was broken suddenly as she leaned forward and retched again. Neville held her again, feeling far more confident this time. Then he had an idea.
"Hannah?" he asked as she subsided. "Have you ever had chamomile tea?"
She shook her head.
"It's supposed to be soothing on the stomach," he explained "I mean, it's not magical or anything; Muggles use it, too. But everything I've read says it works. I'm sure Madam Puddifoot has it."
Hannah smiled weakly. "You mean 'the haunt of happy couples'?"
Neville grinned "Why not?" He helped her up and they started towards Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, Hannah leaning her head on Neville's shoulder.
Note to Reviewers: Britpick me to your heart's content. I am an American, but since I'm writing for a British series, I would like to make things as accurate to the United Kingdom as I can. So please, if I get something wrong, let me know!