AN: I'm so sorry it took me so long to update, but you know, life, school, EVERYTHING interfered. But, here it is, and I do hope that you think it's worth the wait! Enjoy, and please tell me what you think with a review.
For everyone that has already reviewed, favourited and followed, I love, love, love you all.
Thanks to my awesome beta Littleoldmeeeee for throwing her eye over this and making me smile in the process. You're awesome!
Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to J. K. Rowling.
O.o.O.o.O.o.O
After a while, Hermione's tears dried up, leaving her with itchy, dry cheeks. She had always hated that feeling. Especially when combined with the special, just-after-you-cry-headache and the sensitive, puffy eyes. That was why she tried not to cry too much, and why when she absolutely couldn't help it, she made sure she was alone.
She hated other people seeing her weak.
Hermione had been lucky with the timing of her impromptu crying, she supposed, as there was almost no one in the whole castle - except for the second and first years, most of whom wouldn't be caught dead in the library anyway. (At least not yet they wouldn't. Though Hermione knew she shouldn't, she was gleefully looking forward to the day that they had the mountains of work that she currently had, and then they would have to learn to navigate the library for the first time (the books were sorted first by year, and then by subject, which made almost no sense to Hermione herself), while she, Hermione Granger, had known how to use it since first year.)
She stared out of the window a little while longer, waiting for her headache to subside and for her eyes to lose a bit of their puffiness. Unfortunately, she wasn't able to stop her mind from buzzing around the question of what in the world had happened to Neville, however much she wished she could just put it out of her mind.
She knew Neville. She knew he wouldn't hurt a fly if he could help it, and that he was the biggest softy she knew, except for Hagrid. She also knew that he was fiercely loyal (and brave, of course, which was the reason he was placed in Gryffindor and not Hufflepuff), and that he wouldn't betray his friends in any way if he could help it.
So, why had he stood her up?
They had been friends long before they had started to take an interest in each other in any romantic sort of way, and Neville would rather die than hurt his friends intentionally. So, what had happened between the previous night and that morning that had caused him not to show up?
If it had been a few years prior, Hermione might have chalked it up to nothing more than simple absent-mindedness, and she would've sighed and set off to find him and remind him about their date. But, it wasn't a few years ago. Neville's memory had drastically improved over the last few years, and even a few years ago, Hermione couldn't imagine that he would have forgotten something like a date.
By the time she had gone through these thought processes, her headache had faded to a dull ache, and her eyes were more or less back to their normal appearance, (her cheeks were still itchy though, and she made a mental note to wash them as soon as she got a chance), and so Hermione stood up with a sigh.
She put Pride and Prejudice, (she hadn't even opened the book, but it had played the part that, traditionally, a big teddy bear would've. And played it rather well, she thought), back in its place, made a detour to the nearest bathroom to wash her face, and set out to find out what had happened to Neville.
She determinedly ignored the treacherous little ache in her heart that reminded her that maybe, just maybe, Neville decided that he didn't want her anymore, and had just figured that it was beneath him to even show up that morning. That was the insecure, little girl part of her talking, and she refused to give it an inch of space. It was ridiculous in every way.
The first place she went, of course, was the boys' dormitory. She loved the fact that the girls had access to the boys' rooms, whilst the boys were summarily dumped back at the foot of the stairs when they tried to get into the girls' rooms. It gave her a powerful little thrill every time she heard Harry and Ron grumbling about it. It was a little stupid, of course, thinking you could trust girls more than you could trust boys - Hermione couldn't even count the number of times she had caught Ginny sneaking out of the boys' dormitory.
She, Harry and Ginny never talked about it, but there existed an uncomfortable sort of accord between them, which was that Hermione knew about their elicit activities, but that she wouldn't tell Ron provided they were discreet. After all, it wasn't their fault that Hermione had insomnia.
Once in the room, she barely glanced around to ascertain that Neville wasn't there, before making a beeline for Harry's bed and rooting around in his suitcase until she found what she was looking for. She unfolded the yellow and dirty looking piece of parchment, (it hadn't been very handsome when Harry first got it, Hermione had to admit, but it had gotten even grimier with Harry carrying it along and checking in on Ginny while they were hunting Horcruxes), and said, clearly, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
Faint lines appeared before solidifying into the map of the castle, and she set herself to finding Neville's name - if he was in fact in the castle. She had no idea where he'd be otherwise, unless he'd gone to Hogsmeade without her, (which she was still stubbornly refusing to accept).
She made it all the way from the Greenhouses, (the first place she checked, because, well, Neville), beyond the Astronomy Tower, and up to the fifth floor before she found his name in an abandoned classroom on the seventh floor.
When she found the name, printed neatly alongside the little pair of feet, she was frozen for a second in pure astonishment. What on earth was he doing there? The only reason he would have any reason to be there would be if he wanted to practise some spells that were potentially harmful to others, and even then she was sure he would've taken somebody with him.
Something was definitely not right.
Hermione's finely honed war instincts, the ones that sensed trouble a mile away, began poking and prodding at her, making her more sure than she had even been in the library - when she had reasoned everything out for herself - that Neville was in some sort of trouble.
She immediately set off toward the classroom, keeping the map with her in case he moved somewhere. By the time she had rounded the corner of the corridor that the classroom was in, some sort of sixth sense had convinced Hermione that something was definitely wrong - something had happened here. It was the same feeling as when she had had walked in to the Great Hall in the lull in the Battle of Hogwarts, to see all those bodies lying there, and it was a feeling she had hoped she would never experience again.
It was a terribly cold, no, freezing feeling, and the only reason Hermione didn't storm right in to the classroom, crying Neville's name and searching frantically for his body, was thanks to the fact that: a) Neville's name was still printed in tiny, cramped writing on the map, and, b) dead people's names didn't show up on the map. Except for ghosts. Hermione hoped he wasn't a ghost.
Taking a deep breath and preparing herself for the worst, Hermione pulled out her wand, held it in front of her, and stepped into the classroom.
It took a second for her eyes to adjust, as it was uncommonly dark in the room. Once it did, however, she immediately saw Neville lying in the middle of the room, between upturned desks and chairs.
He was white and motionless.
Hermione gave a little cry, and hurried over to Neville. She sank onto her knees beside him and frantically pressed her ear to his chest, momentarily forgetting in her distress that he couldn't be dead, as his name was still on the Marauder's Map.
Hearing a heartbeat, she heaved a great big sigh of relief. Grabbing her wand from where she had thrown it down beside her, she whispered, "Lumos," and shone it over Neville, trying to ascertain what was wrong with him. The silvery light revealed a big bloody spot on the side of Neville's head, the bright red blood making his face look even more deathly pale, the coppery smell tickling her nose, and Hermione had to shake her head to bring herself out of the memories of war it brought on. It wasn't nearly as bad as some of the injuries she had seen in the war, and she knew, logically, that it probably only looked that bad because head wounds bled a lot.
Not that that revelation helped much. It made it all a lot worse in fact.
"What the hell happened here, Neville?" Hermione whispered, her voice breaking slightly, as she waved her wand, levitating Neville in front of her, so that she could transport him to the Hospital Wing. She knew she shouldn't go too fast, as it could destabilize her spell and send Neville tumbling to the ground, but her worry for Neville had her stomach tied up in knots, and she had to steady her hand a few times before she could walk forwards.
She didn't know what had happened, how long Neville had been lying there, or even if there was something else wrong with him that she couldn't see. All she knew was that she needed to get him to the Hospital Wing ASAP, and to Madame Pomfrey. She just hoped that the woman didn't go into shock from seeing Neville like this.
She hadn't been the same since the war had ended, and she really shouldn't still be working in the Hospital Wing, given the panic attacks that she suffered from. But Professor McGonagall wouldn't hear of putting her out of her job. Which Hermione could understand, really she could, but in cases like this, they needed someone who was as steady in an emergency as Madame Pomfrey once was.
Hermione burst through the doors of the Hospital Wing, startling Madame Pomfrey, who was sweeping in the corner, and causing her to let out a little shriek.
Hermione levitated Neville on to a white bed, and said, struggling to stop her voice from trembling, "Madame Pomfrey, I found him on the seventh floor in an abandoned classroom. I don't know what happened, and I don't know how long he's been lying there, but he hit his head, or something. There may be other stuff, but that's all I saw."
Madame Pomfrey was frozen for a second, before she seemed to shake herself.
"Get me a wet towel, and some murtlap essence!" she barked at Hermione, while she herself started casting diagnosing charms on Neville. Thankful that Madame Pomfrey's jitteriness wasn't influencing her ability to function, Hermione obeyed.
She was so thankful that Neville was now in capable hands, that two very important details had slipped her mind:
One, she hadn't stopped to find Neville's wand.
Two, she had left the Marauder's Map behind...
