"Hermione, are you okay? Is it too soon?" Neville's face was beaded with sweat, and he looked pale. It was nothing compared to how I felt.
"I-I was just startled Neville, that's all."
Startled was not really the word. I was touched, of course, that he actually loved me that much, but, shouldn't he take into account that I had just lost my boyfriend 4 hours ago? That most girls wouldn't even be dating by now? And he asks me to marry him?
I have to say no. It just isn't right.
I look up and think of what I am saying in my head: Neville, I am touched by your comment, but I think we are not ready for this now. In a couple of months MAYBE. Not now, please.
I say yes.
"Are-are you serious, Hermione? You actually want to marry me, even though I'm a pathetic loser? Awesome! I'll be in the kitchen, making us breakfast fiancée."
Oh dear. What have I gotten myself into.
My first instinct is to call Ginny. She'll know what to do. It's too late now: I can't reject him now, it will hurt him so much. I'm not like that. I could call Luna, maybe, but I don't feel like it. I don't feel like calling anyone.
In fact, I don't feel like talking to anyone, which is quite unusual of me. I don't feel like talking to Neville, for God's sake, I don't even feel like talking to myself! I just want to sit quietly, and block out all that has happened in the past day. I just wish I could go back in time, and change everything that has happened in the past day. Ron dying, Fred dying, Tonks and Lupin, and now this. It's just too much.
But instead, I do something that surprises me the most of all the surprises I've ever had. I sit up, and walk into the kitchen. Neville is there, making scrambled eggs. I walk to one of the smaller cabinets and open it up. Inside are several bottles of wine, champagne and beer. I'm too young to drink; I know that very well. I also know I'm too young to get married.
I also don't care.
I pick up a bottle of Jack Daniel's brandy, and don't even bother pouring it into a glass. I just drink.
"Hermione?" Neville raises an eyebrow at me. "Hermione, that's not cool. You can't simply drink your problems away. STOP." He jerks the bottle away from my mouth, spilling the contents all over the floor.
"What was that for?" I ask him.
"You know exactly well what that was for. You're 17. 17! I don't even know why Gran has these." He picks them up, all at once, and throws them out the window. "You'd better get to bed, before you do something even more stupid."
A/N: I feel like this is getting really plain. Anyone have any ideas? Feel free to comment or PM any that you have! :)
Also, I'm thinking of writing a Divergent and The Fault in our Stars crossover. Would anybody read it if I did? Thanks! :) :) :)