Give Him Love

by Dramionetruelove

A young Slytherin once professed his feelings for a brave Gryffindor one Valentines Day. The confession is found eight years later by someone else however. The weight of the confession forces him to take a step. Was that the right thing to do?

Pairing: Draco/ Hermione
Rating: PG 13
Warnings: No smut, no cheesy love scenes of ANY sort. So you're up for some slow, torturously slow writing here.
Prompt #/Self-Prompt: #32
Summary: A young Slytherin once professed his feelings for a brave Gryffindor one Valentines Day. The confession is found eight years later by someone else however. The weight of the confession forces him to take a step. Was that the right thing to do?
Author's Notes: Probably one of my firsts, and it's not one of those happy, sappy fics either. I tried to make it less depressing by the end but I have no idea how I fared in the end. The parts starting with the lyrics of the song are narrative and are parts of one single letter. Sorry if this is short and drastic.
Disclaimer "Harry Potter" is the property work of fiction was created entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.

~Give me love like her.
'Cause lately I have been waking up alone`¬

It's not like I have always woken up every damned morning with some blonde idiot snoring beside me. Although there have always been those instances when I feel the throbbing headache (mostly in weekends) just before I open my eyes to the morning light and in that moment I know that there is some random woman naked on my bed. It is very rare for me to wake up alone with a hangover, it is though like fates send all pretty maidens in my view range when I am drunk rather than in the moments when I am not. Quite depressing really.

However, today when I woke up (without the headache, thank you very much) and the silence of the room engulfed me, I felt…. I don't know how to say it, it's quite unusual… I felt alone.

The surprising thing is, solitary has been my companion since my father was sent to the Azkaban. It is the one friend in whom I trust, the one friend around whom I let my barriers down. It's nothing I have been sad or unhappy about, more of something I am used to and at ease with.

But today, of all days, I feel as though my existence has been quite meaningless. And that I desperately need a living, breathing companion. And this revelation was also followed by the realisation that I probably won't get anyone to talk to what with the "Malfoy" name tagging along my pale ass. May be my wealth does attract a few, but definitely not enough to make them listen to all my "woe is me" stories. It's just too dangerous for my grey reputation out in the world.

Yet, a man needs someone, other than his usual glass of firewhiskey and a pair of trousers. Someone to stare at, poke, hurt, hold, shout at, laugh with, sleep with may be… And no, I don't only prefer that for the days I wake up with a hangover, but it would be a nice change for my schedule if I have that … 'toy' almost everyday. (Okay, the toy word was most inappropriate, I apologise.)

Yes, well there'd be a ten parchment long list of candidates for that I know.

I am just not sure I want just anyone for this.

So here I drop the bomb:

I want you.

88888

Neville Longbottom was absolutely sure that if he stayed in that room for one more minute he'd definitely go mad.

He closed his eyes tightly and put his hands on his ears to silence out the pandemonium. Taking a deep breath and at least two minutes, he slowly opened his eyes, afraid to let go off his hands yet.

Very Wise.

The scene in the room had not changed. The classroom was still a bloody asylum.

The students were all out of there desks. Books torn, pages in rolled balls flying everywhere, a few girls having a catfight in one corner; this was certainly some battlefield!

Neville almost felt like crying in despair. It was his first day of his third year as a teacher in this class and this was undoubtedly the worst batch yet. Merlin had definitely sent all the brats along together this year as a pack.

Putting on a firm expression and clenching his fists on his sides, he took a deep, very deep, breath and did something that he hadn't done for years, not even in the war.

He screamed.

And scream he did, such that if the most horrible of the banshees had heard that, they would've wept bitterly, packed their bags and gone off to another universe.

And then there was this complete silence.

….

Somewhere a wand fell.

More silence.

A chair creaked.

More silence.

Finally,

"Are you alright, Professor Longbottom?"

Neville looked at that imp with narrowed eyes.

"Do I look alright, Coleridge?"

The Coleridge boy reddened slightly and backed away.

Giving his most possible stern look, he addressed them, "Now that I have all of your kind attention, I would like to inform you that I am your Herbology teacher and that despite the fact that I might not be the Head of your House," he said this looking at the Slytherin troop, "you are to pay equal amount of respect and cordiality to me as you do to the rest of the staff. Or else, I'll make sure that I live up to Argus Filch's legacy and give you the most impossible detentions imagined because taking points will be to lame and lenient for you all. Is that clear?"

Complete silence answered him back. And Neville patted himself on being able to call order on an impossible army of young wizards.

Smirking slightly at his success show, he continued "And before we start the class, why not find the culprits who caused this entire scene and hand them out proper detentions, so that we don't face such a scene in future and delay the class, shall we?"

He gave one last smile to them, taking sick pleasure in seeing their crestfallen faces.

888888

~ You know I'll fight my corner,
And that tonight I'll call ya,
After my blood is drowning in alcohol,
No I just wanna hold ya. ~

Do not DARE ask me as to since when did I suddenly started having this infatuation to you. That's one question I have been drilling over and over in my head, and yet this one question seems to bring out so many answers none of which seem to be singly apt.

May be it was the time around in Fourth Year, when you had entered the Great Hall on Christmas Eve night, with that pumpkin-headed moron of a Quidditch player, looking absolutely ugly and hideous in that stupid mauve gown. Now, the fact that I could come up with no offensive jibe to throw at you was merely because of Krum being there with you and I really could not let him think the worst of me now could I? It's definitely not because I was bowled over by your stunning beauty or any other rubbish of that sort. I assure you, even Hagrid, that great Oaf looked a much better sight than you.

It might even have been the time in Fifth Year when you and your band of stinking lions were caught by Umbridge in her office. That memory, I remember, was the very first that I had seen you being so vulnerable and fragile. You had happened to be one of the very few girls whom I had known to have a lot of steel in them. And to realise it that day, that you too, like everyone else, required someone towering over you and keeping you safe, it was endea- I mean, pathetic. Extremely pathetic. Well of course you needed goons around you to protect you when your sorts are in terrible danger of being finished off by the Death Eaters. May be that's why you have those two Guardian Angels around you all the time.

And if I am talking of moments which had brought you in different light in my mind's eye, it will be unfair if I don't mention the night in our Sixth Year when you had sneaked in to the Hospital Wing to check on me after the decapitated condition I was in thanks to Saint Potter. You might probably be breathing in assurance that I did not know of your late night escapade from the Gryffindor Tower just to see me or rather the artwork of your dear infamous best friend on my fine-looking body and mourn about the terrible tragedy about three minutes mutely. Or were you mourning the loss of a couple of screws from Pothead's already dysfunctional brain? Well, whatever may be the case, I regret to inform you that indeed I was not asleep that night as I pretended to be; in fact I was every inch aware of your presence and mentally taking note of every movement of yours just in case you have been sent to finish me off.

But then, how can a wizard not feel grateful when you return them
a part of something that means life to them. I do not know what trouble you had gone through to enter the boy's toilet and bring my wand back to me (or may be Potter had given it to you, because you breaking rules and entering boy's toilet is a far too laughable concept), but I am grateful to you for that, though I can never verbally express it. And yes, this is a flaw of mine, a huge on at that. I can never really tell anyone honestly how I feel no matter how badly I want them to know.

Like the time, when you had been most dreadfully tortured in the Manor in front of my very own eyes. But let's not speak of that here; it really does not help anything much in the present declaration.

As much as I want to go on about various other times when I feel I might have started feeling differently about you, I do no think I shall enough ink or parchment to that. And moreover, Slytherin Common Room is never the safest place to show emotions whether it be in person or in paper. In fact, for the past twenty minutes I had been waiting for some First Year or some other kid to come down from their dorms and find me writing here. And it would be one hell of an unusual sight for him I tell you, because other than ultimatums and insults, no one has ever seen me writing anything, let alone touch the quill. The homework is mostly done in bed or I have Zabini or Nott to them for me. And ever since we all returned for our Seventh Year, things had been quite slow for us, even the teachers, if you had noticed, have been handing out less homework. Probably because they understand we had done more than enough last year during War itself.

But you, you my bushy-haired Beaver, have definitely not allowed your brain to slow down any less. And I thank Merlin for that because if it hadn't been for you scurrying to the Library every time we finished a day's class, we would have never made that truce and sat down together to do our work silently amidst the jibes and arguments we usually have. Those were my very own, sorry, our very own special moments and thankfully, you at least did not allow that Pothead and Tomato goons of yours to accompany you.

I am sorry, I think I just strayed away from the topic. Well nevertheless, you get my point. And if you don't….. well I'll just sum it up again for you again.

888888

"Professor?"

Neville turned around and found the three of them looking up at him.

"Yes?"

The boy with the blond hair and Green robes, apparently Slytherin, came forward and looked boldly at him. "We finished what you asked us to do." The other two nodded in assent.

For a couple of moments, Neville was struck by the eerie resemblance that the young boy had to Malfoy what with the blond hair and a sniff of arrogance; however he was not pale but tanned and freckled instead.

"Well yes," he said, coming out of his reverie and looking down at the three of them with folded arms, "Now, tell me, what is it that you three learned today?"

Both of the boys turned towards the girl as if it had been her role to state the "moral of the day" sermon. Giving a groan, the Ravenclaw witch stepped forward and recited in a bored voice, "We learned that we are not to ever fight with other Houses for any reason and maintain the inter-house peace and unity." She scowled at the last three set of words. "And if we do, we shall be made to clean the old caretaker's room which is disgustingly dirty and stinks of Fang's poo."

"And also," piped in the dark haired boy from Ravenclaw looking sideways at the blond one, "that we musn't flirt with the girls of other Houses who apparently is reserved for someone else."

"Yeah right." Scoffed the young Slytherin as the girl raised an eyebrow at her house mate.

"Enough." Sighed Neville. "You will all go back to your Common rooms now and try to remain at a safe distance from each other's throat in future. Agreed?"

The three concerned neither pretended to hear nor agree.

Neville scowled at them. "Now scatter off." And saying thus, he turned his back towards them and continued his way out of the castle to Hagrid's Cabin where he was invited for tea.

"A second professor!"

Neville looked back and found the Ravenclaw boy running back to him.

"Yes, Jennings?" he asked raising an eyebrow.

Putting his hand into his pocket, the boy brought out an old-battered envelope and handed it to Neville. "We found this there in the room. We could have thrown it like you'd instructed but it seemed to be some sort of a letter addressed to your friend Mrs. Weasley nee Granger. I thought I should give you this."

Neville accepted the envelope curiously and looked at the writing on it.

To,
H. Granger
Kindly read this alone as soon as you receive it.
Dated: 14th February, 1999

Still studying the letter curiously, he asked, "Did you open it by any chance?"

"Pattinson did." Said Jennings

"I did not!" shouted the red Slytherin from behind.

Jennings shrugged at Neville.

"Alright," said Neville, frowning at all of them quite exasperatedly, "run off now."

The three of them were only too delighted to rush off and raced out of the corridors immediately.

Neville stood there contemplating what to do with the letter. The letter seems to have been written the year after the war was over. He wondered if it was something important. Well it is definitely late by eight years for Hermione to receive it, he thought, might has well check it.

And so tearing off the envelope, he strode to the grounds outside, unfolding the letter inside and reading its contents.

888888

~ Give a little time to me or burn this out,
We'll play hide and seek to turn this around,
All I want is the taste that your lips allow.
My, my, my ,my, oh give me love. ~

So Dear Granger,

As much as awkward this truly is, I am not lying in my declarations of new alien feelings that I have started to harbour for you. Trust me when I say, I have tried hard to avoid them, even smashed Nott in the face when he mentioned you once casually in the Common Room because I had been trying hard to just keep you out of my mind.

And that will also explain my absence in our late study hours and my shitty behaviour almost a month ago when I had tried to be the former old self again and taunt you. Needless to say that did not quite end well, because this time I did not have the heart to insult you like before, and nor did you take you casually as old times. What we established in those few hours in Library everyday seemed to be beckoning both our conscience a lot this time, or more so in my case. And if it hadn't been for that night when you stormed in to the Slytherin Common Room demanding to meet me, and then breaking down in despair and confusion outside as you asked me again and again what was wrong with me, I might have never realised how much exactly I was hurting you by my actions this time.

And that moment, with your eyes red and open, you were that same girl that stood in Umbridge's office, asking for mercy. The same girl, who was lying there on the floor in the Manor, right before my eyes, withering in pain. And I had a choice, to either ignore and leave you like before, and avoid the many calamities that we would be inviting into our lives once we hold hands that goes further than the concept of friendliness. Or I could choose to stay, stay and be there for you and prove to you that despite all my past deeds, I do have heart, a heart that has far long decided to abandon me and join yours.

And I did what I felt was right. I just brought you in my arms and let the silence speak volumes. All I wanted you to know in that moment was importance of your brown doe eyes, your bee-stung lips, your messy untamed brown hair and those ridiculous freckles in my life hereon. And I do not know till this day what you gathered from that night but I just want you to know now that if I have decided to put myself beside you and hold you like that for a lifetime, it would be impossible to step back. And I have decided to take that risk, for you.

And you'd be happy to know that the prospect did not exactly excite me as much as it terrified me; suddenly hugging Voldemort seemed like a better option. But you being wiser than me would know that sometimes regardless of how much trouble we call in, there remains the sense of responsibility, the sense of purpose and the sense of doing what you believe is right.

And at that moment, holding you I felt…. inifinite. Holding you felt right. And seeing that I really do not have much record of doing something right other than not killing Dumbledore, I might as well start filling up that record list now.

All I ask, Granger, is for a chance. I now asking this is ridiculous because it is the one thing I have never been given in my life. But you had taken that risk of befriending me, and I owe you one by facing all the demons (that mostly counts my father) that comes in our way.

I shall not declare that I love you Granger, but all those instances that I have mentioned before in this letter, those moments when I have seen you from a new perspective, they aren't just….. instances. They are my memory of the slow transition of someone who was nothing more than a low-life to me, to someone who seems to be threatening to entwine my lifeline in theirs.

So tonight, when the world celebrates inane concepts like 'love', I write this with the hope that you'll understand that the time has come when such things must enter my life too. And I beg you to take that responsibility. For me.

Yours,
D.M.

P.S. And just in case you decline and choose to keep our friendship as it is, you should know that I won't give up. Giving up was never the hallmark of a true Slytherin.

888888

Ginny Weasley remained impressively calm.

So calm that Neville finally had to get up from the chair, unable to compose his nerves any longer. Going to the nearby shelf, he brought out two glasses and a bottle of Firewhiskey. Quietly he filled both the glasses equally still waiting for the red-head in the room to say something. Neville was absolutely sure that she had finished reading it; her eyes weren't moving past the lines any longer. Yet she sat there, quiet and immobile, oblivious to the growing tension in the room.

"She never got it did she?"

Silence met his question and he took a sip from his own glass without looking at her. As the liquid burned down his throat, he took the other glass in hand and walked towards her chair. Putting it on the table before her, he claimed his seat opposite her again and stared at the fireplace.

"I don't know."

Neville turned towards his friend again and looked at her uncertainly. Slowly, she raised her eyes to meet his and they mirrored his uncertainty.

"Then should we give it to her?" He knew the question was stupid the moment he asked it.

"They're both married Neville." She said, looking at him incredulously. "To different people. This," she said shaking the letter in front of his face, "is a threat to their marriage, especially to Hermione's because if Ron gets to know about it then he'll..." she trailed off as a look a fear came to her face. "We can't do this Neville. We can't give this letter to her, not now, not ever."

Once again silence reigned in the room as Ginny stared at Neville, whilst he did the same to the fire. Raising her glass from the table, she took a sip as the contents of the letter went through her mind again.

"She sent him letters too you know."

The statement sent a shock wave along his spine, and Neville could not help himself from turning at the witch with his mouth slightly open.

Ginny Weasley continued to stare at the fire. "It was after we graduated from Hogwarts, she would write letters to him thinking he'll reply back." At this she gave a short laugh. "She was stupid you know, very stupid. And naïve too. Reply to her letters, my foot. How can she even possibly think that he had changed? That he had turned a new leaf?" By now Ginny was nearly screaming.

Neville shut his mouth slowly and looked deeply into her eyes. In a low tone, he put forward the one question whose answer he was dreading to know.

"Gin…. What did you do?"

Ginny stared at Neville for a long time until she finally answered, "I kept back those letters and burnt them." And with that, she took another sip from her drink.

Neville had no idea what to say.

But Ginny continued, "You may think the worst of me Neville, but what I did was for the best. The best for her. I truly cared about her, I really did. And I knew the moment I read the first letter she wrote that it won't take her long until she falls for him too you know. And I just… I just couldn't let that happen to her."

Neville put his glass down on the table suddenly feeling quite nauseated. "And you hid this from whom?"

"Everyone. Her especially."

"You do know that if she comes to know about this Gin she'll-"

Ginny got up from her chair in an instant and put her glass down in the table. Picking the letter, she waved it in front of her face.

"This man, Neville, this man was the very person who had taunted her for years, made her cry. For seven years, he did things that made our life a hell. He was a Death Eater too. And his father? Well he tried to kill her in our Fifth Year. And who can forget that horrible incident at his own house when she was being tortured by his aunt and he did nothing but stare down at her."

"But he might've changed-"

"Neville please." She said sitting down on her chair exasperatedly. "Don't you understand? What they feel for each other, it's… it's… forbidden." She said sadly. "It's something that no one will understand, that no one will accept. It's not right."

"How do you know that?" he challenged her.

"Well because they both are quite happy with their lives right now and that proves-"

"Well do you know that too?" he asked her, quite sadly.

Ginny brought her hands to her face and slowly massaged her temples. Neville continued staring at her sadly until she finally took a deep breath and said, "Look, what I did was right. At least for her, because none of us can afford to let her go through a turmoil that she would probably face around him. And I also did what was right for my brother. Ron already lost a brother like all of us, I cannot let him lose the love of his life either. He needs her, he needs Hermione. Unlike Malfoy, who wanted her."

Neville remained quiet as he processed her words. For a long time, both sat soberly in their chairs having nothing more to say.

Finally, finishing his glass in one huge gulp he turned towards her and asked the one question that had remained unanswered and untouched all through this time.

"So what do we do with the letter?"

Ginny looked at him morosely and said, "He said he wanted to do one thing right. He would be happy to know that he did."

Neville watched her as she rose up from the chair and put her robes back on. Folding the letter again, she handed it out to him. "He saved her by not claiming her." She said looking at the letter sadly. "He allowed her to remain happy."

Neville looked at the letter for a long time until his hands willed its way towards hers and she put them on his palms. He looked at Ginny with his eyes expressing unwillingness and hesitance. The witch stared at him for some time until she finally gave a nod.

Neville sighed in despair. Slowly he walked towards the fireplace and threw the letter into the fire.

Looking at him one last time, she said, "Good night Neville."

And with that the red-head witch walked out of the room. Neville stood there, watching the letter burning and suddenly out of nowhere the image of the young blonde boy and the Ravenclaw girl swept past his mind. The features of his face turned into one of sorrow he stood there gazing at the fire where the last remains of an untold story burned into ashes easily.

~Fin~

A/N: I wrote this ages and ages ago and forgot to post it here. I remember this story quite often but I thought I'd lost it, If it were not for rzzmg who kept a masterlist of every story, every author has written in her Dramione Love Fest. Thank you RZZMG! You are the best! 3 Moreover, I signed into myLJ account after 3 years and I am shocked to find that people are still writing and posting in the variety of Fests! As for me, I believe my writer's block will go on for a longtime. I don't even know if I shall write any more fics again but I can only hope.

Please leave in your reviews as I still go through them and they remind me always why I need to get back to this community again! :')

Much love to each of you!