The lovely and talented ladies, SaintDionysus and LastBornSlytherin graciously dedicated their beta talents to this chapter!
"Oh, fuck no."
"Do you have a better plan, then? You have no employees, no lackeys. Honestly, Longbottom, you should never look a gift hippogriff in the beak." Draco shuddered at the expression. "Trust me."
"I don't want to use house elves Malfoy." Neville looked around the greenhouse at the dozen or so creatures, all of whom looked like a drunken three-year-old had dressed them, forming an assembly line to break down and de-seed the plants. In truth, they all looked out of their minds delighted to be there, which made it all the more difficult to turn them away. "If Hermione found out about this—"
"I'd be the one in trouble, Longbottom. And you're mad if you think I'm telling her. Besides, even if she did somehow find out, all she'd need to do is talk to the poor little buggers to see how bored they are. With just my mother at the Manor, there's not much for them to do. Believe me, this is the most stimulation they've had in months."
Neville watched as an industrious-looking house elf in a satin lace-trimmed pillowcase climbed on top of one of the tables, holding a bullhorn in her hand. As she raised the device to her mouth, her shrill, enhanced voice bounced off the walls of the greenhouse. "PLUCKY, YOU IS NEEDING TO BE PICKING THE SEEDS OUT OF THIS PILE AGAIN BECAUSE WHIMSY IS THINKING THAT WHOEVER IS BUYING THESE ONES WILL GET A BURNING SURPRISE IN THEIR THROATS. WE IS WANTING MASTER DRACO'S CUSTOMERS TO GETS THE VERY BEST. NO ONE IS BEING LAZY HERE, PLUCKY!"
Neville had never seen such a bizarre overseer. It was grotesquely hilarious to watch the tiny, bat-eared, orb-eyed house elf with the bearing of a German general drive her colleagues in their labor.
"BIPSY YOU IS MAKING THE BUDS TOO BIG! YOU MAKES THE BUYER DO YOUR JOB. GETS WITH IT, BIPSY!"
Neville oddly feared her. "…Whoa."
"I know, isn't she something?" Draco asked, his eyes brimming with pride. "She practically raised me, you know?"
Neville contemplated everything he had ever heard about Muggle psychologists' theories regarding how Mummy-complexes (or in this case, Mummy-figure-complexes) often infiltrated men's preferences in their desired traits of potential mates. "That…oddly explains so much."
A sturdy knock on the greenhouse door diverted the two young men's attention from the house elves. Draco scowled at Neville. "Expecting someone, are you?"
"Calm your tits, Malfoy. It's just Professor Sprout."
Neville opened the door to admit the large, apple-cheeked woman. "Alright, Neville? Just wanted to check and see how everything's coming along," She paused when she saw Malfoy standing there, arms folded, sour expression on his face. "Mr. Malfoy?"
"Malfoy here, is going to be my partner, Professor."
Her face spread into a wide grin. "Oh, how lovely! It's always a treat to see inter-house cooperation." Her eyes widened slightly at the scene in the background. "Are those house elves?"
"Mine," Draco intoned.
She examined Draco with an unplaceable expression. "Neville, you didn't mention that you and Mr. Malfoy were friends."
"We're not," they both said simultaneously.
"I'm just blackmailing him," Draco said.
Professor Sprout released a rambunctious belly laugh. Draco's cold expression remained unbroken, as though he contemplated why anyone would ever find it funny that he was directly involved in the blackmail of a classmate.
Fucking plebeians.
"In life, as in business, it is often necessary to work with those you'd rather not. Good on you boys for learning the lesson early," she clapped Neville on the back so hard his knees buckled. His eyes widened as she made no attempt to remove her hand from his back. "It's such an important lesson."
"Sure, whatever," Draco said dismissively. "How exactly do you fit into all this, Professor?"
She giggled at Draco's question. Fucking giggled. Neville didn't think of her as the sort of woman even capable of giggling. Truth be told, he never really thought of her as female, period. "I provided Neville with the greenhouse, of course," she said, running her hand in circular patterns over Neville's back.
Neville cocked an eyebrow. This was new.
And weird.
"And of course, I provide," Professor Sprout continued, lowering her hand "emotional support, should Neville," she batted her stubby eyelashes, "or yourself ever require it."
Neither Draco or Neville could fight the pained twin grimaces that spread across their faces.
Eew.
Professor Sprout didn't seem to notice. "Mostly, I help you keep your secret from those who would oppose this enterprise." Neville wondered where the bloody hell her secret-keeping skills were when Malfoy found out. She still hadn't removed her hand. "If you should ever need anything, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Sprout said, wetting her lips with an odd look in her eye neither boy felt comfortable with, "I hope you'll not hesitate to ask. After all, I'm here for both of you."
There were several moments of silence that followed Professor Sprout's suggestive offering. During this time, she failed to notice the two boys exchange looks of horror in a rare moment of camaraderie.
"Well," she said, allowing her eyes to travel inappropriately over Draco's body, "I'll leave you boys to it." She gave Neville's shoulder one last unwelcome squeeze and turned to exit the greenhouse, muttering under her breath what sounded like, "Dear boys will be the death of me."
After she was gone, both young men stood in silence, their eyes narrowed, saying nothing.
"Was that fucking real?" Draco asked.
"…Yeah," Neville replied.
Draco stared blankly into the distance. "I need a shower."
Neville nodded. "I need a hug."
Draco ignored him. "I need to find Hermione, strip her out of all her clothes, and fuck her until that memory has left me."
"I need cake," Neville muttered. "Lots of it."
Draco turned his cold gaze on Neville. "Keep that old bitch's involvement minimal, Longbottom. I don't fancy being molested by a rapey old crone."
"Me neither," Neville said, grimacing. "That does somewhat put a new spin on a few of our past encounters."
"Don't want to know," Draco said.
"THAT LADY IS LOOKING AT MASTER DRACO AND HIS FRIEND LIKE THEY IS MEATS," Whimsy said through her bullhorn.
Draco grimaced. "Ugh, Whimsy." Draco turned to her with a disgusted expression on his face. "Please. Do not ever call Longbottom my 'friend.'"
Neville turned white as a sheet. "You don't think she gave me the greenhouse because…" Neville gulped. "Do you?"
Draco smirked. "It's called grooming, Longbottom. Don't get me wrong. I've nothing against accepting gifts from creepy old ladies who are obviously after my pants—"
"Slut," Neville muttered under his breath.
"—but when it comes time to collect, I want to be clear, I am not comfortable with this."
"You think I am?" Neville asked.
Draco shrugged. "You've always been her pet. Plus, you're kind of a weakling, which makes you prime meat for a sexual harasser."
"I am not a weakling. Need I remind you that I chopped the head off a—"
"Off a snake. Yeah, Longbottom. I know. It doesn't matter how many times you say it. At the end of the day, you're still...well...you."
Neville folded his arms angrily. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Draco rolled his eyes as though Neville had just asked him to describe the color 'blue' or define 'the.' "It doesn't matter how many illegal plants you grow, or snakes you kill, or old ladies you play rentboy for—"
"I am not playing rentboy!"
"—you are still, and always will be, a personification of the pure, unadulterated cretinism that is Gryffindor house." Draco grinned charmingly. "My fiancée being the obvious exception. Now, come over here and help me with the scales."
"No."
Draco sighed dramatically and turned to face Neville. "What's that, precious?"
"No, arsehole." Neville turned as purple as the babies he had birthed. "I'm not going to let you order me around or talk to me like I'm stupid. I'm not bloody Crabbe or Goyle. If you're going to work with me, Malfoy, you're going to be fucking nice to me."
Draco scoffed. "Didn't you hear Professor Pervert? We don't have to get along to work together."
"I don't care. I won't work with you if you continue being a cunt."
Draco rolled his eyes. "What do you want, Longbottom? A goddamned friendship bracelet?"
"I want you to treat me with respect. You must be capable of it, otherwise Hermione'd never put up with you."
Draco's mercurial stare did not betray a single expression. He continued to stare in Neville's direction looking past him for some time until Neville wondered if the Slytherin even heard him at all.
"Malfoy, are you—"
"I'm thinking, Longbottom."
"What?"
"Thinking. That thing actual intelligent people sometimes do? Surely you must have stumbled across it accidentally a time or two."
Neville's face fell. "Okay, that—comments like that will earn you a swift kick in the arse, Malfoy. You and your house elves."
"WHIMSY IS HEARING THAT, MISTER LARGEBOTTOM, SIR," Whimsy said through her bullhorn.
Draco stifled a laugh at hearing his house elf so exquisitely bugger up Neville's name. He bit his lip when he saw Neville shoot him a glare in warning. "Fine. I'll try to be…" he looked as if the word physically pained him, "nicer to you, Longbottom."
Neville nodded. "Thank you, Malfoy."
"You're welcome," he said, through gritted teeth. "Now, would you please be so kind as to assist me with these scales?"
Neville smirked. "I think I can manage that."
Draco rolled his eyes when he turned his back to Neville. "I'm not making the same deal with Professor Pervert."
Neville laughed in spite of the distasteful notion that Malfoy could amuse him. "Not your type, Malfoy?"
Draco chuckled. "Not quite. Too young, really. Hermione's the exception, but I typically only go for women in their early hundreds."
Neville laughed loudly at that. "Alright, Malfoy. Let's get to work."
"Are you daft?" Draco asked as he and Neville occupied a large table in the library. "Notice-Me-Not charms are infamously volatile. These books say you can just use cedar to cover up the smell."
Neville rolled his eyes. "Pretend, just for a moment, that I'm better at Herbology than you, Malfoy. I know about cedar. But that only takes care of non-magical creatures. What about the doxies and fairies? They live in trees for Chrissake. Cedar won't keep them out."
"Wormwood will."
Neville rubbed his temples in frustration. "Wormwood is toxic to Cannabis Sativa. How do you not know that?"
Draco sneered. "How could I possibly be expected to know that?" '
"You're a fucking drug dealer, Malfoy!"
"Shhhhh! Say that a little louder, why don't you?" Draco looked frantically around them. "And I apologize if I'm not swotty enough about botany for you, Longbottom. But believe it or not, this partnership doesn't take top priority in my life."
In an act of poorly feigned sympathy, Neville put his hand to his heart. "I am ever so sorry if growing marijuana is interfering on your snogging time with your girlfriend."
"Fiancée," Draco corrected.
Neville rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. How could I forget?"
Draco smirked. "Just trying to be accurate, Longbottom."
Neville's expression flattened. "No, really. I'm serious. How could I forget? I'm actually asking. Because I'd very much like to."
A feminine throat cleared from behind him. "Um…Neville?"
Neville whipped around. "Hannah." His entire face lit up with a ripe blush. "Hi. Um…do you want to sit down?" He immediately began clearing a spot for her.
She smiled. "No, that's alright. I wouldn't want to interrupt. I just thought I'd drop this book off."
Neville shook his head vehemently. "You're not interrupting at all! Malfoy was just leaving actually."
"No, I wasn't," Malfoy said. "But cheers for making a bloke feel special." Malfoy smirked with a knowing glint in his eyes.
Neville glared daggers at Draco. "Are you positive you don't have to go, Malfoy?"
Draco shrugged and leaned back in his chair, yawning. "Got nowhere to be."
Neville wondered if it would be considered poor showing in front of a girl one liked to commit a bit of mild manslaughter. "Oh, but remember you had to go and check on our Herbology project? The charm will probably wear off soon."
Draco aggressively refused to miss the show. "Not for a while, actually." He leaned back in his seat and put his hands behind his head. "But really, Longbottom, your ardor to spend time with me is downright embarrassing."
Neville rolled his eyes and turned to Hannah. "Hannah, you know Draco Malfoy, right?"
Hannah nodded. "We're prefects together, but we've never been formally introduced."
"Charmed," Draco said with a bored drawl.
"Anyway, Neville, I just wanted to drop this off."
Draco leaned in to read the title of the book. "An Agricultural History of the Hebrides? Top of the Flourish & Blott's Bestseller List, that must have been."
"Ignore him," Neville intoned.
Hannah grinned. "It is a tad obscure, but it was useful to me in my Muggle Studies project. So, I guess I should thank you for letting me borrow it, Neville."
Neville ignored the kissy faces Draco was making at him. "What was your project about?" he asked, genuinely interested.
"Um…" Hannah shifted uncomfortably as Draco observed the pair like a ten-year-old boy opening a Firebolt at Christmas. "It was about world hunger in the Muggle world, actually, but I touched briefly upon how Muggles in inhospitable climates have historically fed themselves despite the environment being unsusceptible to agriculture."
"That's actually quite interesting," Neville said sincerely.
"Yes, interesting," Draco echoed, insincerely. "Longbottom here was just saying how he didn't understand why Muggles ever complained about not having enough food, weren't you, Longbottom."
Neville turned harshly to him with narrowed eyes. "What? No, I didn't say that."
"You needn't be shy, Longbottom. Remember, you said," Draco adopted an exaggerated Northern accent, "'I don' see 'ow anyone'd complain abou' not 'avin' any food. It don' seem possible.'"
Neville opened his mouth and closed it several times before fixing Draco with a deathly glare, and silently vowing to slit his throat for sabotaging what could be his only chance to make a good impression with Hannah.
And that sounded nothing like him, thank you very fucking much.
Malfoy ignored Neville's glare. "There's no shame in being ignorant, Longbottom. That's why books exist, after all. And I'm sure...Helen?-"
"Hannah," Neville corrected him.
"Right, Hannah. I'm sure she'd be willing to educate you on the topic."
Neville nearly shat his pants. If he didn't know any better, he'd say that Draco trying to help him get with Hannah. Maybe working so closely with drugs had finally addled his brain. "Uh…yeah. Yeah, I'd love to hear more about it."
Hannah looked at Neville shyly and tucked a glossy lock of hair behind her ear. "Really?"
Neville smiled. "Yes, really. Whenever you've got time, of course."
Hannah chuckled throatily. Neville relished the sound. Hannah didn't have the type of beauty that overtly flirted. She didn't have large breasts or sultry curves or bedroom eyes. But her laugh was warm and full of light. Her very manner held a natural magnetism. And the easy confidence with which she carried herself was damn sexy. He'd never encountered its like in a young woman of Hannah's age.
"How about tonight?" she asked, as if there was nothing more natural than a girl asking a guy out.
"Drinks. With me. Three Broomsticks?" It was the best Neville could do.
Hannah bit her lip. "Nine o'clock? Meet at the front entrance?"
"He'll be there," Draco said.
"Great," Hannah grinned widely at Neville. "See you later, then."
Neville nodded and tried to speak but found he couldn't summon the right words. Long after Hannah had left, he remained gobsmacked. Eventually, he shook himself and turned on Draco. "You…how…why…?"
"I believe the words you're looking for are 'thank you.'"
Neville shook his head. "Why would you help me?"
Draco scoffed. "I wasn't helping you. I was helping me. You need to get laid, Longbottom. You're stressing me out, and you're stressing the plants out."
"I am not stressing the plants—"
"Yes, you are. They told me."
"They did not—"
"How long's it been?"
Neville shut his mouth and turned a brilliant shade of red. "None of your business, Malfoy."
As understanding descended upon Draco at Neville's evasive answer, a long, luxurious smirk crept up his face.
Neville cringed at the sight. "Don't. Just…don't."
Draco guffawed. "So, you're a virgin. Wow, Longbottom. That's the saddest thing I've laughed at in a long time."
"Shut it, arsehole," Neville retorted.
"No. Shan't," Draco said, inspecting his fingernails. "All the more reason to help you get laid. And the plants agree with me on this."
"They don't talk to—"
"Don't be jealous, Longbottom. You wouldn't be able to hear them over the sound of your rusty, old maidenhead."
Neville gave Draco his most impressive glare. It wasn't much, but it got the point across. "I don't have a maidenhead, you twat. Despite the rumors you circulated fifth year, I do have a cock." Even if so far it's proven to be only good for a whiz and a wank, he did not add.
Draco smirked, drawing the moment out. "I do apologize. It's just there's just not an adequate word that encapsulates what you do have, Longbottom. Hmmm. Let's see." He tapped his quill on the desk, pretending to think, obstinately ignoring Neville's death glares. "Stubbornly unpopped cherry? Hilariously oppressive state of non-sex-having? Maybe 'mandenhead' would be more appropriate."
Neville glared, unimpressed. "You're a goddamned prick, Malfoy."
"What about guymen?" Draco asked, unconcerned with Neville's growing wrath.
"You're supposed to be nice to me, remember?"
Draco scoffed. "Longbottom, for me, this is nice. Look at what I just did for you. Do you, or do you not, have a date with Anna Babbott tonight?"
"Hannah Abbott, you twat."
"Whatever. And you're welcome, by the way."
"I didn't say 'thank you.'"
Draco scowled. "Exactly. Rude." His face relaxed into a smile as Hermione walked over to their table.
She looked confused. "…Hi." She sat in the seat next to Draco, looking back and forth between her fiancé and Neville.
"Hello," Draco said, pulling her chair closer to him and kissing her on the temple.
Hermione looked back and forth between Draco and Neville. "You two are...studying together?"
"Yes," Draco said.
She looked like she still didn't believe him. "You two...talk?"
Draco nodded. "Yes."
She bit her lip and leaned back in her seat. "This is weird."
Neville shook his head. "Malfoy and I talk all the time now that we're—"
"Now that I'm helping him on a project in Herbology," Draco interrupted.
Pushing aside his annoyance with the insinuation that he'd ever need help in Herbology, Neville noted with interest that Draco didn't seem too keen on Hermione knowing about their illegal enterprise. He'd assumed there would be no secrets between the Malfoy heir and the Gryffindor princess.
Hermione eyed Draco with pointed disbelief. "Really?"
Draco smirked. "Really."
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "You?"
Draco chuckled. "I'll have you know, that I'm excellent with plants. Perhaps not as good as Farmer John, over here, but my thumb is sufficiently green."
Neville quirked an eyebrow. Did Draco just compliment him? Granted, if he called him 'Farmer John' when the two of them were alone, he'd dock him in his ferret face, but still. Draco complimented him. That had to be a first.
"You've never shown any interest," Hermione said.
"That's because you never need help with anything," Draco said, dipping his head and stealing a kiss from her.
Neville rolled his eyes, making a mental note to keep all displays of affection private should he ever be lucky enough to land Hannah as his girlfriend.
"How are you this year, Neville? You never seem to be around much anymore," asked Hermione.
Neville shrugged. "I'm around. I've been spending a lot of time on this project for Herbology. What about you?"
Hermione sighed. "Between wedding planning and Head Girl duties, I'm perpetually knackered." She leaned in and lowered her head a bit. "Just between us, I deserve another Order of Merlin, First Class for putting up with MacMillan."
Neville rolled his eyes. "He's not my favorite person either."
Hermione scowled. "He's so arrogant. He thinks just because his family's rich he's better than everyone."
Neville flatly intoned, staring at Draco the entire time, "Yeah. Sounds like an awful person to spend your time with."
Draco returned the stare. "Don't you have a date to get ready for, Longbottom? You'd better get going if you want to have enough time to shave your back."
Hermione lightly smacked him on the chest. "You be nice." She turned to Neville and grinned brightly. "And Neville, you have a date? Who's the girl?"
"Hannah Abbott," Neville said, blushing.
Hermione did that girl thing where her face softened like she was about to say "Awwwww." Neville was exceedingly grateful she did not. "She and I had prefect duties together during fifth and sixth year. She's perfect for you. I think the two of you will really get on."
"Yeah. I think so too," Neville said. "I'm a bit nervous I'm going to mess it up somehow, to be honest."
"Rubbish," Draco said. "What kind of girl wouldn't want an 18-year-old virgin who dotes disgracefully on his pet toad?"
Neville blushed deeply. "Malfoy!"
"Draco," Hermione admonished.
"What? I didn't realize that was privileged information," Draco said smirking in a very non-repentant fashion.
Neville rolled his eyes. "You know what? I don't even care. You helped me get this date, so I'll let that one slide."
Hermione turned to her fiancé. "You helped Neville get a date with Hannah?"
Draco preened and put an arm around her. "Impressed?"
"Begrudgingly," she said, leaning into his arm but narrowing her eyes at him. "You could still be nicer to my friends. It's no wonder they don't like you."
"What about you?" Draco rubbed circles on her shoulder. "Do you like me?"
Hermione bit her lip in an attempt to hold back a smile. She held up a hand and brought her thumb and her index finger close together, her expression taking a coy turn. "Perhaps a little," she said.
Draco leaned in and placed a sweet kiss on her neck. "Only a little?"
Hermione giggled. "Draco. Not in front of Neville. You're being rude."
Neville rose out of his seat, anxious to leave before his breakfast revisited him. "No, I should really get going. Please don't stop on my account."
"I never do, Longbottom," Draco said, continuing his ministrations to Hermione's neck.
"Don't remind me," Neville mumbled.
At 9:00 p.m. on the dot, Neville stood waiting at the front entrance wearing his nicest V-neck sweater and his anxiety on his sleeve. He was so nervous he jumped at the feel of a light tap on his shoulder.
Hannah grinned warmly at him. "Ready to go?"
He took a moment to look at her. She donned a pair of light wash Muggle denims, ankle boots, and a black jumper that perfectly showed off her elegant collarbone. She wore no makeup. He liked that.
He liked all of it.
"Yeah, let's go," he said, smiling stupidly.
The moment they settled into a booth at the Three Broomsticks, Neville's nerves melted away. He'd never met a girl so easy to talk to as Hannah Abbott. She was passionate, intelligent, and kind—all traits he'd admired in Hermione. But she was also laid back and beautiful in a nonconventional, almost statuesque way. Despite her looks, even a bloke who fancied her couldn't help but feel relaxed by her.
"What do you want to do once you leave Hogwarts?" she asked.
"I don't know," he admitted. "I've always been really good at Herbology, and I enjoy it. So, I think I'd like to work with magical plants."
"You always were Professor Sprout's pet," she said with easy flirtation.
Neville pushed down his slight revulsion at being referred to as Professor Sprout's anything. "Have I?"
Hannah nodded. "Remember, the Gryffindors and the Hufflepuffs always had Herbology together. But you probably didn't notice me because you were always 'in the zone.'"
Neville's face lit up in a brilliant smile. "You were watching me?"
Hannah bit her lip. "I always thought you were cute."
Neville's eyes widened. "Always? As in…before this year?"
Hannah chuckled. "Since about fourth year. Is that a problem?"
Neville beamed. "Not at all. It's just…" he gulped, "most girls didn't notice me at all before this year."
Hannah shrugged. "Fuck 'um. Their loss is my gain."
Neville laughed at her unexpectedly coarse language. "So, um…what do you want to do after Hogwarts."
"I'm not sure. All I know is that I want to do something that touches people's lives. I know that's...vague. And corny."
"Not at all." Neville gaped dreamily at his date. His head was supported by his hand propped up on his elbow. His jaw was agape. He was the personification of besotted. All that's missing were heart-shaped pupils.
Madam Rosmerta approached their table, bearing two mugs of butterbeer. "Here you go, luvs. This one's on the house." She smiled at them both and walked away with a knowing glint in her eye, delighted that two of her favorite Hogwarts students seemed to be getting closer to one another.
"I always liked her," Hannah said. "She touches people's day-to-day lives with what she does, you know. She probably doesn't even realize it, but it makes a difference."
Neville smiled dreamily at Hannah. "She fights hunger and thirst on the home front."
"Exactly," Hannah laughed. "My Muggle Studies project really got me thinking about after graduation. There's this coalition of witches and wizards that work with Muggle governments all over the world to address world hunger that Professor Byatt thinks I should consider. It sounds interesting, but I don't know if it's for me. I think I'd miss the small things too much."
"The small things?" Neville asked, genuinely interested.
"Yeah, just…the little moments between people that add up to something big. Like Rosmerta bringing us butterbeer because she likes that we're on a date."
Neville's heart skipped at hearing her admit that this was a date. "Or," she continued, "your friend, Malfoy, embarrassing you earlier because he knew you wouldn't ask me out on your own."
Neville blushed intensely. "You picked up on that, did you?"
She smiled. "I'm perceptive. People are fascinating to me. And with something like the coalition, it would be just too...intense. All big picture, all the time. Life or death. I'm not a Gryffindor. I might have the compassion for the cause, but I'm not sure I have the temperament."
Neville was utterly blown away by this girl. He'd never met anyone so self-aware. He could sit here all night and listen to her talk, creating with her those small moments she loved so much. "I can't believe I never met you before now," Neville said, meaning it with all his heart. "You're the most interesting person I've met at Hogwarts."
Hannah raised her eyebrows. "That's quite a statement from someone who hangs out with the Golden Trio and Luna Lovegood."
He laughed. "I know it sounds like a line, but I'm serious. How have I not met you?"
She shrugged. "Don't ask me. You're the Gryffindor," she teased.
Neville shook his head. "I was shy. I'm still shy, truth be told."
"It's endearing. Even if we do have Draco Malfoy to thank for the fact that we're out together," she said playfully. He sighed and held his head in his hands.
"I hate that I owe him one."
"It's funny that you two are friends."
"We're not," Neville said quickly.
She raised her eyebrows. "Are you sure? It wouldn't be unheard of. After all, he is engaged to Hermione Granger. But I suppose in the wizarding world, stranger things have happened."
Neville considered this for a moment. Stranger things have happened. Story of his damned life. There were many times over the course of the years that he wondered how different things could be for him if he was more like Harry Potter—brave, gregarious, confident. He spent most of his childhood feeling like a joke—the 'Little Gryffindor Who Couldn't.'
That just wasn't who he was anymore. Maybe it never was.
Going for broke, Neville leaned in and captured her lips in a brief, but sweet, kiss. She tasted like butterbeer and girl. The little squeal of surprise she made went straight to his heart.
It was the first time he'd ever kissed a girl he liked, and he knew that of all the kisses he'd had, this was the only one he'd take to his grave. It felt momentous; like something he would look back on with fondness when he was old and gray.
Hannah's hazel eyes sparkled in the moments that followed the kiss, the air between them shifting. "I didn't think you'd do that."
Neville smiled. "Stranger things have happened, right?"
