Chapter Four - Hannah!

Hannah slept in on Saturday morning, as she usually did. It was one of the good points about being a barmaid - her shift didn't start until one.

She had a quick shower, and had her very late breakfast sitting on her balcony. Diagon Alley was bustling as usual, and Hannah enjoyed speculating as she munched her toast.

When her breakfast was done, she headed down the street towards the Leaky Cauldron.

"Afternoon, Hannah!" Tom said from behind the bar. "Passing through?"

Hannah hesitated, confused. She glanced at her watch. It read twelve thirty. "Er, no, Tom, I'm here for work..?"

Tom looked surprised for a moment before realisation dawned on his face.

"You didn't get my owl?" He said, hesitating before picking up a rag and beginning to polish the bar.

"No," Hannah said, her voice faltering.

"I sent you one to tell you that you could have the day off… business is slow today."

"But it's Saturday!" As much as she hated to admit it, Hannah could hear the desperation in her voice.

"Yes, but it's been dead quiet since Hogwarts reopened. I'm serious, Hannah, you can take the day off." Tom's voice was warm. He felt he was giving her a big treat.

Hannah smiled weakly. "Thanks, Tom, that's really generous of you, but I honestly don't mind working."

"Hannah, it'd be a waste of your time. Take the day off, enjoy yourself. Visit your father or something."

She was not visiting her father, no way. She thought for a moment, watching the slow movement of Tom's hand on the bar.

"I think I'll go to Hogsmeade," She said, and she began to feel that having a day off might not be so bad after all.

"Good plan," Tom said, though he was distracted as someone passed through the pub.

"Thanks again, Tom. I'll see you later," Hannah said as she approached the large open fireplace. She took a pinch of floo powder from her snuffbox and threw it onto the orange flames. They immediately turned green, and Hannah stepped in, saying "Hogsmeade!" loudly. Before long, she had pulled to a stop and stepped out into the Three Broomsticks, feeling rather woozy.

It was approaching lunch time, and the warm pub was beginning to fill up.

"Hannah!" A voice she didn't recognize called her name. She automatically turned, and found herself looking at a grinning Harry Potter. Something in the pit of her stomach lurched nervously - she hadn't talked to Potter since their school days. She had seen him passing through The Leaky Cauldron, but he had always been too rushed to stop and talk.

"Harry Potter?" She said, and she smiled. Two young boys were sitting with Harry, and Hannah nervously smiled at them. One of them greatly resembled Harry, down to the wire framed glasses and the green eyes behind them, and the other strongly reminded Hannah of the Weasley's. These must be Harry's children.

"How are you?" Harry said, his voice enthusiastic and friendly. Hannah was surprised. Harry had never seemed particularly partial to her during school. Sure, she had been in the DA, and she had always had Herbology and Astrology with him, but that was all…

"I'm good, and yourself?"

"I'm brilliant! Have you met my sons?" Harry nodded at the two boys. "This is James" - the red-head - "And Albus." The boys nodded and mumbled hello. Hannah smiled at them. James and Albus. It figured.

"Hi, boys," Hannah said.

"Will you sit down?" Harry said, but Hannah hadn't come to Hogsmeade to catch up with old schoolmates. She wasn't exactly sure what she had come for, to be honest.

"I'm in a rush," She lied, "But it was brilliant to see you. And nice to meet you, boys."

"Bye," They mumbled, grinning awkwardly.

Harry said goodbye almost reluctantly - Hannah felt bad for having to "rush" off.

Hannah felt vaguely nostalgic as she wandered up the main street of the village. She had so many memories of walking up this street, usually with Susan and Ernie, and a few other of their Hufflepuff friends. She remembered the laughter they had shared, and how carefree their school days had been up until the death of Cedric Diggory. After that, everything had seemed to go downhill.

Hannah felt sad as she remembered the ginormous crush she had had on Diggory for those four years, and how his death had affected her, even though she had never been close to him. She felt even sadder when she remembered being pulled out of school when she was sixteen, and being told that her mother had been killed, by none other than Voldemort's Death Eaters. Her throat began to close up even just thinking about it, just like it always did whenever her thoughts veered in the direction of her Mum.

She exhaled loudly and concentrated on the clear blue sky. It was mild, but there was definitely a sharp nip in the air, a sure sign that winter was on the way. Hannah decided to stroll up towards the Shrieking Shack - she hadn't been there in years.

As Hannah passed the post office, she heard a loud crack coming from a nearby alleyway. It startled her so much that she let out a not-so-quiet yelp. Thankfully, no one was close enough to have heard. The crack was followed by a series of short gasps, and Hannah felt alarmed - was someone having a seizure or something? She stood at the corner of the alleyway, half afraid to look down. The gasping continued and Hannah started to feel worried. Taking a deep breath, she looked around the corner.

A man was sitting on the floor of the alley, his back against the wall. His head was in his hands, and from the way his shoulders were quivering, Hannah could have sworn he was crying. Afraid to leave in case he really was having a seizure, Hannah called out tentatively.

"Er… Sir? Sir, are you okay?"

The man didn't respond, and Hannah took a apprehensive step into the alleyway. She spoke louder this time.

"Sir?"

The man made a motion with his left hand, indicating that he was alright. Hannah wanted to leave, but some emotional tug in her chest told her that she should stay. She took a few more nervous steps until she was leaning against the wall opposite from the man. She stood there for a few moments, watching his form.

The man let out a loud groan, and lifted his head slightly before rubbing his eyes. Hannah felt slightly alarmed. He was obviously rather distressed. Should she run and get help..? Something told her no.

She crouched down on her hunkers, now only about a foot away from the man. She reached out and gently patted her shoulder, before shaking her head.

What was she doing? This was so unlike her… Normally Hannah was very good at staying out of other people's business, but something told her this was different…

The man finally took a great shuddering breath and looked up. Hannah toppled over on her heels.

"Neville Longbottom?" She said, astounded.

Neville looked mortified, and his cheeks darkened slightly. "Hullo, Hannah Abbott," He said glumly.

"I - I don't - are you okay?" She was lost for words.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so. Wouldn't mind a drink. Will you join me?"

"What?" Hannah was startled.

"I said, do you want to go for a drink with me?"

Hannah was so taken aback that she agreed without even thinking about it. She took Neville's hand and helped him up.

She automatically started heading towards The Three Broomsticks.

"Not there," Neville mumbled. "I don't want…"

Hannah understood. He didn't want anyone to see him like this. He was a bit of a mess, actually. His thick dark hair was sticking up haphazardly, and while his face was deathly pale, his eyes were red rimmed. His robes were badly in need of an ironing, and in truth, he looked so down that Hannah nearly felt depressed just looking at him.

"The Hogs Head, then?" Hannah asked.

Neville nodded. Hannah was once again overtaken by an almost motherly feeling, and she took Neville's elbow and began to lead him up the street. It suddenly struck her how strange the situation was; she hadn't seen Neville Longbottom in about ten years easily, and all of a sudden, here she was leading him up Hogsmeade main street with a firm grip on his arm!

Neville didn't seem too bothered - in fact, he hadn't taken much notice of anything at all. His eyes were trained on the ground, and he was dragging his feet almost wearily. Hannah wondered what had happened to make him so depressed.

When they reached the Hogs Head, Hannah laughed out loud. It looked the exact same as it had the last time she had been in it, which was just after she had left school. The same weather-beaten sign hung over the battered door, creaking spookily in the wind, the tables and chairs were in the exact same position, a smell of goats still lingered in the air, and the bartender was standing in the exact same place - something that sort of freaked Hannah out. She was almost positive that he was holding the same cleaning rag, but she couldn't be one hundred percent sure.

"Hello, Professor," The bartended called. "What'll it be?"Hannah looked around for a moment, wondering who he was talking to.

"Me," Neville croaked, answering Hannah's silent question. "He's talking to me."

Neville was a professor? It was the first Hannah had heard of it.

"Two Firewhiskeys," Hannah said firmly to the bartender. She glanced at Neville, and he didn't argue.

She steered him over to a filthy table, and sat him down. A few moments later, two glasses of amber liquid were plonked on the table.

"Thanks, Aberforth," Neville muttered, before picking up his tumbler and downing the contents in one go. Hannah picked up her own glass and took a sip. The liquid slid down her throat easily, spreading heat through her body. She then handed her glass to Neville, who gulped its contents as well.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong with you?" Hannah asked. She was curious.

"One minute," Neville said. "Aberforth, two more Firewhiskeys."

The barman brought them over immediately, and Neville drank one of them before starting to talk.

"I'm a loser," He said, and his voice slurred slightly - the alcohol was already taking its toll.

"What? No, you aren't!" Hannah said.

"I am," Neville insisted. "My grandmother has a boyfriend."

Hannah snorted, but Neville didn't see the hilarity of the situation.

"It's not funny," He mumbled, and his eyes brightened, as if with tears. But he couldn't possibly be crying - he was a grown man, for heaven's sake.

"I'm sorry," Hannah said, embarrassed to have been amused at all.

"S'ok," Neville said, drinking the last Firewhiskey. "I'm a loser."

"No, you aren't." Hannah replied matter of factly.

"I am," Neville said, and he sighed miserably. "I've never had a girlfriend."

Hannah was astounded. She raised an eyebrow at Neville. He caught her eye and shrugged.

"Well, not one that mattered. I've never had anyone I really cared about." Neville's voice was slurring and his eyes were slightly glazed - he was already drunk. He ordered three more Firewhiskeys, and drank two of them in quick succession.

Hannah's chest filled with a feeling - understanding. She understood completely. She had had boyfriends, but there had never been anyone she had truly loved.

"Either have I," She said, and her voice sounded strange, as though she had just had a sudden realization. Neville looked up at her.

Hannah looked back at him, and she smiled. He smiled back, and then put his head in his arms, shut his eyes and began to snore. Neville obviously wasn't very good at holding his drink.

Hannah watched him for about fifteen minutes, before she gently woke him up. The barman told Hannah that Neville was a live-in professor at the school, so Hannah paid him and then walked Neville up to the school gates. He was quite drunk, even though he'd had just six Firewhiskeys. Hannah wasn't sure whether she trusted him to walk up to the school on his own, and was relieved when Hagrid came whistling up behind them.

"'Lo," He said cheerily. "I recognise you. Aren't you - Neville?"

"Er…" Hannah mumbled, glancing at Neville, who was muttering to himself while stumbling around a bit.

"Is he drunk?" Hagrid asked.

"Just - just a little," Hannah said, embarrassed.

"What 'appened?" Hagrid asked, looking concerned.

"He - he had one to many Firewhiskeys," Hannah replied.

"At lunch time?" Hagrid said, astounded.

"He was… thirsty?" She said, and Hagrid laughed.

"I'd better take him to my house, let him sleep it off. Wouldn't be good for any of the kids ter see 'im like this."

"No," Hannah said. "It wouldn't."

Hagrid stepped forward, picked Neville up as though he was as light as a child, and gently slung him over one shoulder.

"Fanks, Hannah.." Neville mumbled, his eyes closing.

"Yup, thanks, Alanna. Was good ter see you again," Hagrid said, waving a large hand as he started up the long driveway.

Hannah stood by the hog-flanked gates and watched Hagrid's large figure retreat up the driveway. For some reason, she felt like crying. She had come to Hogsmeade to enjoy herself, but instead she had bumped into an old schoolmate, and got him drunk.

Yay Hannah.

Way to go.


Please review! :D I'll update faster! :D