CHAPTER TWO

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After flooing home to her own apartment, Hermione took the quickest shower of her life before casting a precautionary contraceptive charm on herself. Her mind felt like it contained the thoughts of the entire population of Wizarding Britain, she had so many thoughts whirring around inside of it, but she knew that one thing was certain. Somehow, last night she had hooked up with Neville Longbottom and she couldn't even remember a damn moment of it. She had never been so angry with herself in her whole life, how could she had gotten so unbelievably drunk that she could have sex and remember nothing? That was a question that she could ponder later, though, for she had another person with whom her anger was aimed.

After dressing in what she would call her 'comfy clothes', essentially a pair of black jeans and red jumper, Hermione quickly pulled her still wet hair into a rough ponytail and stormed through her flat until she was in front of her fireplace, debating with herself where she was most likely to find Harry. It was, technically, a work day, though most people had had the common sense to book the day off because they knew that ministry balls always ended in far too much drinking. Harry had never had that much common sense, though, so she finally decided that she would probably find him hungover at his desk rather than at home and grabbed some floo powder, stepping into the fireplace before throwing it down and disappearing.

She reappeared in what appeared to be an abandoned ministry, though there were two or three tired and slightly green workers milling about. Her own hangover seemed to have abated, but she was positive that it was merely her anger that masked it and the full effects would hit her later on. Provided it was later on enough that she could confront her scheming best friend, though, Hermione did not care one bit. She tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for a lift to arrive, before stepping in and repeatedly jabbing at the button for the Auror floor, as though it would make a blind bit of difference to how quickly she got there. She was very thankful that there was no-one else around to see her slam into the doors when the lift suddenly shot backwards.

She got quite a few strange looks as she barged past the reception desk of the Auror department, but thankfully no-one intervened. Hermione was a fairly frequent visitor and she was trusted by the head of the department to only visit Harry's office, without looking at any of the case boards that may or may not contain confidential information. He needn't worry today, though, because Hermione had no intention of glaring anywhere other than at her best friend. Her assumption about his lack of common sense had been correct, it seemed, because when she loudly and abruptly slammed open his office door, she found Harry slumped over the desk with his head resting on his arms.

"You bloody git!" Hermione exclaimed, slapping him around the head and recieving only a grunt in return, "what the bloody hell happened last night that I would wake up in the Leaky bloody Cauldron next to-"

"Wait," Harry muttered, finally looking up at her and frowning, "you shagged him?!"

"Well I assume so!" Hermione scoffed, rolling her eyes and pacing the room as her glare focused on him, "judging by the fact that we were both naked and I feel very thoroughly shagged!"

"Too much information-"

"Oh no," Hermione snorted, shaking her head and jabbing a finger towards him, "too much information is finding a letter from you to Neville, telling him to tell me how he really feels. Would you care to explain that, Harry? Because quite frankly I'm a little bit fucking confused right now!"

Harry's eyes had grown progressively wider as Hermione ranted, as had the volume of her voice. By the time she had finished talking and stood before him, her hands on her hips and one eyebrow raised, Hermione was breathing heavily while Harry looked like a Deer in the headlights. Hermione, feeling proud of herself for having even the smallest amount of patience, stood and waited for him to answer, but Harry seemed lost for words. He merely gawped at her with his mouth opening as if he were going to talk, but closing again, repeatedly until he sighed and scratched his head.

"Now listen," he started and Hermione rolled her eyes, gesturing for him to go on, "I know that this is all a bit weird right now-"

"Oh no, it's perfectly normal," Hermione scoffed, glaring at him, "I always wake up with random friends with no recollection of the sex we've so obviously had."

"Will you just be quiet and let me explain, please?" Harry asked tiredly and Hermione nodded, grunting in annoyance as she collapsed into the chair opposite him, "and don't tell Neville that I've told you this, he'll bloody kill me."

"I don't think you need to worry about that," Hermione grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest, "the last Neville saw of me was my back quite literally running away from him."

"Wonderful," Harry groaned, taking his glasses off and throwing them down on his desk before dragging a hand down his face, "the long and short of it, is that Neville has been in love with you since we started the DA."

"Well, now I know that this is some elaborate prank," Hermione snorted, rolling her eyes, "I'd have kno-"

"You said you'd listen to me, Hermione." Harry sighed.

"I said no such thing."

"Will you listen, please?" Harry begged and Hermione sighed.

"Fine."

"It's the truth whether you believe it or not," he told her and Hermione rolled her eyes again, "he's been too scared to say anything to you because, in his mind, you're 'too good for him', his words not mine. He thinks you'll laugh in his face."

"And what?" Hermione sighed, biting her lip, "you've been, what, encouraging him to tell me?"

"Since you and Ron broke up, yes." Harry said bluntly and Hermione frowned.

"Why, Harry?" She asked, disbelievingly, "even if all that you're saying is true, when have I ever shown a romantic interest in Neville?"

"When he-"

"Harry, every woman in the wizarding world fancied Neville when he beheaded that bloody snake," Hermione snapped, rolling her eyes once more, "name one other time."

"I can't," he shrugged and Hermione nodded, "but I know you, Hermione. If he came up to you and asked you out for dinner, you'd say yes just so you didn't hurt his feelings."

"Or because I would assume it to be a dinner between friends, which is what Neville and I are, Harry. We're friends," she told him, leaning forward on his desk, "that's all we've ever been."

"To you, perhaps," Harry nodded, sighing as he pulled open his top desk drawer and pulled out a pile of envelopes before throwing them down in front of her, "if he ever knew that I'd let you read them, I don't think he'd ever talk to me again, but those are the letters that he's sent me over the last few months for advice on how to approach you."

Hermione frowned down at the pile of envelopes before reaching out with a shaky hand and picking them up, pulling them closer to her and flicking through them. The first, dated the day after she and Ron had broken up almost six months before, was wrinkled and blotchy as though it had, at some point, had a drink spilled over it. The last was dated the day before yesterday and Hermione frowned up at Harry, who nodded and gestured for her to open one. With a sigh, she picked up the first letter and took out the piece of folded parchment, unfolding it and squinting at the messy scrawl, barely able to make out what he had written.

Harry,

I know it might be a bit odd for me to ask you this, but is Hermione ok? I read in the Prophet about what happened and I'm so worried and sad for her.

You remember what I told you, the same night we talked about my parents in the ROR? Those feelings haven't gone away, Harry. I think that what was only a crush then has become me being completely in love with her and I just want to know she's ok. I feel like it won't help if I approach her myself.

If there's anything I can do, please let me know. All I've ever wanted is her happiness and for Ron to have done that… I want to kill him.

Neville

Hermione had her hand over her mouth, tears threatening to spill from her eyes as she looked up to find Harry smiling sadly at her. She sniffled as she folded the parchment and slid it carefully back into its envelope, putting the pile back on the desk. Her mind, previously so crowded with thousands of thoughts that races around at a mile a minute, was now focused solely on one thing. She had left Neville, who had probably been incredibly confused, without saying a single word to him and she felt sick with shame and guilt as she looked disbelievingly up at Harry.

"What the hell happened last night, Harry?"