Author's Note: Thank you so much, everyone, for your kind words last chapter! Seriously yall are the best. For those of you with questions about Hermione & Severus' relationship, all will be answered in due time. Right now we're getting Hermione & Neville reacquainted.
Huge love to lucefray27 for her love, unwavering support and edits on this fic.
I do want to be perfectly honest with you my wonderful readers, while the muse for this one is INCREDIBLY strong (said in Yoda voice), last week I almost checked into an inpatient stress centre. I decided on doing outpatient instead, which is 8:00-14:00 M-F, so if I disappear for awhile with updates, please pardon me, as I battle the bitch that is mental illness. You all have been so incredibly supportive though, and I'm so grateful for your kind words.
If you love this chapter, and can't wait for chapter three, like me, please let me know!
I love the way you look at me.
Like you are about to talk to me
or devour me and I am fine with either.
-N.R. Hart
Hermione had somehow managed to greet all of her friends, and still remain close to Neville, all while keeping her jacket on. Many times she thought Neville would venture off on his own, but he remained by her side, idly chatting with someone while she made pleasantries with her friends. As her brown eyes swept the room, she was pleased to see that Ron was still absent, as was his sister and her husband. When Harry and Pansy left to go say hello to George, Hermione turned her attention back to Neville.
Still overwhelmed by the change in his appearance, Hermione tried to control her traitorous thoughts about her old classmate, but she couldn't refuse the thought her brain kept bringing to the forefront; He looked quite fit in a muggle tuxedo. It was only in that moment that it occurred to her, that he was in fact, wearing a muggle outfit, and she was extremely curious as to why.
"Neville, would you like to find a quiet place to talk, I have a feeling this might soon become the dance floor," Hermione said, standing on the tips of her toes so he could hear her. She was almost close enough to brush her lips against his ear, and suddenly the idea of it sent a rush of heat through her core. However, she reigned in her self-control, and instead took a deep breath, his delicious scent washing over her.
Neville nodded, his head lowering toward her, "It seems a couch just appeared, I think the room is in agreement with your idea." He gestured to the back corner of the lavishly decorated Room of Requirement, which had indeed outdone itself for their celebration. It looked much like it had during their many meetings for Dumbledore's Army, with the floor to ceiling walls of mirror, but instead of bookshelves filled with Defense books and large pillows to accommodate jinxes, there were plush couches and chairs surrounding a centre area. Along the east wall, there was a small stage area, where rumour had it, the Weird Sisters would soon play. The house-elves, under the control of Kreacher, had filled the large wooden tables with hor 'd oeuvres and flasks of butterbeer, pumpkin juice, and a few bottles of whisky.
Hermione looked in the direction he was nodding too. Far in the back corner of the Room was a plush burgundy couch that could easily accommodate the two of them. With a nod she set off toward the couch, only to be halted when a pair of old classmates stopped them to talk to Neville. After they had said their hellos, Neville grabbed her hand, and with the confidence of a man on a mission, walked her over the quiet corner. He only let go of her hand when he sat down.
She sat on the opposite corner, turning her body to face him so that she could continue to gaze on the perfect specimen that Neville Longbottom had become. "Thanks for that."
He let out a low chuckle as he turned his body toward her as well. "Not a problem, I find small talk quite tedious and would much rather have a stimulating discussion with one of my oldest friends."
Hermione's cheeks flushed as she spoke. "I'm not sure how stimulating conversation with me will be. I'm somewhat of a drag these days."
With a raise of his eyebrows, Neville casually threw one of his arms onto the back of the sofa. "Now I know better than to believe that Hermione Granger could ever be described as a drag. She's the most brilliant witch of the age, so that's impossible."
Hermione failed to conceal the roll of her eyes, or the shrug of her shoulders—it had been a long time since she felt like the most brilliant witch of the age, even if it had once been true. "Not sure how brilliant I am these days, at least as far as the Daily Prophet is concerned."
Neville's forehead creased as he gazed upon Hermione. "I didn't think you cared what that paper ever had to say, let alone its assumptions about you. What happened to the Hermione Granger that once stood up to a Ministry hag, went behind her back to get the real story published?"
Hermione let out a sarcastic chuckle, "Her? Ha, she's been gone a long time." She felt quite out of place, and maybe a bit nervous, without a distraction, and raised her eyes looking around. Spotting one along the far wall, she stood quickly. "I think we need drinks."
Without waiting for a reply, she began to walk to the opposite wall toward the drink table. She was almost halfway across when a bit of red hair entered her field of vision. Hermione stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes widening as she took in her ex-husband, with his arm draped around her old roommate, and his current girlfriend, Parvati Patil. As her eyes trailed down Parvati's body, bile rose in the back of her throat, at the unmistakable bump that now dominated the witch's frame. The room was noiseless except for the loud pounding of her heart as her eyes focused in on the pair.
Suddenly, she was being turned around with strong hands wrapped around her upper arms. "I think it's time we go see our old dorm rooms," Neville murmured as he hauled Hermione against his side, arm slung over her shoulder and around her neck. With a quick wave of his wand, he cast a spell and moved toward the doorway. Hermione still couldn't hear anything save the pounding of her pulse, but her eyes took stock of the doorway to the Room of Requirement, and the sudden appearance of a bottle of aged firewhisky as it flew into Neville's hand.
Once in the hallway, Hermione looked up at Neville, with the realisation that tears had formed in her eyes, and were now cascading down her cheeks. As her lips began to move, and nothing but sobs threatened to escape, Neville looked down at her, his hazel eyes soft and kind, "Not here Hermione, not yet."
Hermione turned against him, burying her face in his black jacket. She didn't even have it in her to react when she felt his arm move under her arse and lift her until she was being cradled with her face on his shoulder, like a small child. She couldn't even register his scent, or anything else about her surroundings, as her mind was haunted by the image of Parvati's growing belly. She closed her eyes, trying to gain control over her intense reaction, but her mind flooded with all the internal hatred that she had thrown at herself over the years.
Since she was sixteen she had known that having biological children would be a miracle. Because of Dolohov's unknown curse, among other things, her cycles had been messed up, requiring an extensive list of potions that Severus continued to provide her even though she was no longer a student. It was one of the few areas of contention that had existed in her marriage—one that should have alerted her to what was coming, but she ignorantly chose to ignore.
Ron had always wanted a large family, much like his own. He saw himself surrounded by many children, so when Hermione what the Healers had told her about Dolohov's curse, Ron had blasted apart their couch. He had been furious, but once he calmed down, he promised Hermione that they would make it work—that he would learn to be happy just the two of them if that's what it meant. But as the years went by, and his siblings began to have children, Ron's desire to have his own family became the one thing they could never talk about. Communication had been the true downfall of her marriage.
Hermione didn't raise her head until she heard Neville speak in soft tones to someone else. "You know I don't know the current one, but as it's not term, and I'm an ex-student here for the party, I'm sure you can make an exception."
She heard a loud hmph before Neville continued, "If I'm not mistaken there is quite a few of your old students down by the Room of Requirement for the Reunion and you might be able to glean some gossip and updates about their lives if you hurry over."
Looking around, Hermione suddenly realised where they were, and as she heard the creaking of heavy hinges, Neville started walking again. He didn't set her down, even as her eyes registered the Gryffindor Common Room. No, he continued to carry her all the way up the boy's staircase and up to the last dormitory. When he finally put both of his arms on her back, he slowly sat her down on the edge of one of the old four-poster beds.
"Are you ok?" Neville sat down across from her, close enough that their legs brushed. He laid his hand over hers and stared at her with obvious concern in his eyes.
Hermione tried to nod, but even that felt like a lie, so mid-nod she stopped and shook her head. "No, I'm not, but I really don't want to get into it tonight."
Neville nodded, "Fair enough. I think it's time we have a drink, though." From the inner pocket of his jacket, he slipped out a miniature bottle of firewhisky which grew to its normal size with a quick word from Neville. His eyes scanned the room and landed on two books laying on a shelf across the room. With a summoning charm, he laid them in front of him, and transfigured both into crystal glasses, pouring two drinks from the aged firewhisky.
Hermione took a long swill from her glass, enjoying the burn it made as it went down her throat. The heat grounded her again and gave her more control over her emotions. Staring at the amber liquid, she tried not to think about the couple she just saw, instead deciding to focus on the man in front of her. "Neville, when did you get so strong and so, uhm, self-assured?"
His laughter echoed in the dormitory, as he unbuttoned the button on his jacket and removed it, laying it on the bed next to them. Revealing a true muggle tux, complete with vest and white button-up shirt, he cut an impressive figure, and Hermione's heart sped up at the sight. "Self-assured, well, I think the Battle honestly. Standing up to Voldemort, deciding that this fight was worth more than anything they could do to me, well it gives you perspective. I didn't need to hide behind what my families expectations were anymore. I could be every ounce the son my parents would have raised, brave and confident. Being strong just came with being an Auror, and living in the field, I think. When you're on assignment, on foreign soil, and you're staked out in a house for days without being able to leave, reading the same book gets old, so you keep your mind sharp by moving."
Hermione drained the firewhisky from the crystal glass before reaching toward the nightstand to grab the bottle. She refilled both of their glasses, allowing the silence to permeate the room while they both starred around the old dormitory. If she remembered correctly, which she was sure she did, they were currently sitting on top of Neville's old bed, but it was amazing how similar the dormitories of the boys and girls were, the only real change being the number of beds.
"I doubt anyone gets to come back to Hogwarts and just sit in their old dormitories—I feel as though we've been given a special privilege to go back in time. Maybe even given the opportunity to redo some things we wished we had done back then." Neville's voice broke the minutes of silence, and Hermione saw his eyes dilate as they roamed over her body.
Hermione's body throbbed at the look in Neville's eyes so she took a drink from her glass, trying to focus her thoughts on her years at Hogwarts. She realised she had a deep yearning to be back here, where she was truly happy. "Don't you sometimes wish you could just come back?"
Neville's eyes left her to look around the room. "It's funny you say that. Yes, I've been wishing that for years now, but as me now. I don't really want to go back to the kid I was when I was here." He looked at her then and grinned widely. "But I am coming back; Headmaster Snape contacted me, to ask if I'd be interested in the position of Herbology Professor, and I accepted. I have to spend the next two months finalising paperwork with the Ministry, then I get to spend from the start of Winter term til the start of the next fall term, working under Professor Sprout."
Hermione's body moved before she could think, arms wrapping around him as she hugged him tightly. "Oh congratulations Neville, that is the perfect job for you."
Neville wrapped his own arms around her, pulling her close. "Do you think so?"
Being so close to him stole the breath from her lungs, preventing her from answering immediately. Her flesh tingled where he touched her, and when he let her go, she could feel the heat pool in her core. She needed a long drink from her firewhisky before she could look him in the eyes again.
"Of course!" Hermione's heart hammered against her ribs, as the heat from her body singed her cheeks, in what she knew was an unmistakable blush. She hoped he would attribute it only to the liquor they were consuming.
She quickly attempted to change the subject, even from one as innocent as Neville's impending employment Smiling she asked, "How are your mum and dad doing?"
Neville's eyes fell away from hers, and he took a long drink from his glass, "Dad died last year, and mum, well, she's fading away. It was only a matter of time, really. They've been ghosts of who they were for almost three decades, you can only stay like that for so long."
Hermione set her glass down on the floor, and scooted forward, the skirt of her dress riding up her thighs, she placed her hand on his and squeezed. "I am so sorry Neville, I hadn't heard."
Neville shrugged but squeezed her hand in return. "It's alright, he wasn't in the best condition towards the end, so I'm just happy he's finally free of his suffering."
Her body reacted before her brain, again, and for the second time, she moved without thought, throwing her arms around Neville, ignoring the heat that continued to pool deep in her belly, even at the innocent contact. She was pulled in even closer to him when his arms encircled her, holding her tightly to his chest. In that moment, she couldn't explain the subtle change that his movement had caused, but suddenly the hug had morphed into something more. Their mutual pain and liberal consumption of well-aged firewhisky was morphing the innocence of this moment into something more, and Hermione wasn't sure either of them were fully aware of exactly what that was.
Hermione could feel a tension growing between them, and as she smelled his unique scent again, she knew that she needed to look at him, to lean away from him to see what had changed between them. Unlocking her arms, she began to lean back, not quite making it away from his body, when his face turned toward hers and his lips pressed against her own. He moved against her, soft at first, as his hand moved up to cup her face. When his kiss grew into something more hungry, his tongue darted out and swiped her lower lip. A delicious move that caused her to open her mouth in a moan that he swallowed. As his lips continued to dance against her own, he wrapped his arms under her thighs and helped her straddle him, before he stood up, bringing her with him, and sat back down with his back against the headboard of the bed.
His lips moved away from her own, but continued to tease against her jawline as he murmured, "Can I have you, Hermione, can I finally have you?"
Hermione couldn't utter any sounds other than the moan that escaped her lips at his words. She nodded her head vigorously and allowed herself to get lost in the touch and soothing kisses from her first friend at Hogwarts.
To be continued...
