HERMIONE'S TH1RTEEN R3ASONS
Annaleise Marie
Chapter Ten: Cassette 5, Side A
AN: This, friends, is where we really start drifting from canon. Get ready. I'll try not to make it too, "lolwut" though. Haha.
Major thanks to love-them-all10, Alyce, Clover, semantics, ICorona23, ashley4948, Erica, Chewy518, XxDracoEffingMalfoyxX, Morgan, Noodles2, The Forgotten Child, Aftermath11, Kira, and crdeerw for reviewing the last chapter! You guys make me so happy! I had a lot of really good questions from some of you, and I'm going to be sending out individual replies tomorrow, even though the next chapter is posted!
/
The portrait of the bowl of fruit swung shut behind me, and I heard it lock in place. Where should I go? To my room? Back to the Three Broomsticks? Or maybe I'd go to the library after all. I could sit outside on the steps. Listen to the remainder of the tapes in the dark.
"Malfoy."
It was Longbottom.
He was leaning against the wall, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Now that I really looked at him, he looked worn down, stressed. But I didn't feel like talking. Not then. Not during all of this. And not with Longbottom.
He and I had never really talked. He was an abysmal wizard in pretty much every subject except for Herbology, and he was a constant source of amusement in classes. I had made fun of him a few times, thrown the occasional insult his way. But we'd never had anything that could really be called a conversation.
Now, I was afraid, he wanted to have one. He'd been standing there this whole time, just waiting for me to leave the kitchens. What else could he want?
He wouldn't look at me. Instead, he stares at the floor and tugs at his tie, loosening it. Then he closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the stone of the wall for a moment before shoving off of it to start down the corridor.
"Come with me, Malfoy."
"Everything all right?" I asked.
After a short pause, slowly, he nodded.
I caught up with him and match my pace to his, curious against my will as to what he wanted.
"Where are we going?"
"Don't worry, Malfoy," he said in response. He rolled down his sleeves as he walked, leading me up the stairs and towards the Great Hall. "It's cold outside," he said by way of explanation. He still wasn't looking at me.
"You're the ninth person I've had to follow, Malfoy," he said after a moment.
"What? What are you talking about?" I asked, even though I was pretty sure I knew what he meant.
"The set of pensieves," he said. "Hermione wasn't bluffing. I have them."
"Oh gods," I groaned. Behind my eyebrow, my head was pounding now. With the base of my palm I pressed on it hard.
"It's alright," he said. I couldn't look at him. What did he know? About me? What had he heard? What had he seen?
"What's okay?" I asked.
"What were you listening to in there?"
"What?"
"Which tape?" he asked, pushing open the heavy doors to the grounds now. I could try to deny it, pretend I have no clue what he's talking about. Or I could just turn around and leave, head back up to my room. But either way, he knew.
"It's alright, Malfoy. Honest. Which tape?" he repeated.
With my eyes still shut, I pressed my knuckles against my forehead. "Weasley's," I said. "Ron's. The poem." I looked at him. He looked up at the night sky through the open doors, and then his eyes slid shut, as though he was trying to remember something.
"What?" I asked. No answer. "Why'd she give them to you?"
He opened his eyes and gazed across the grounds once more. "Can you listen to the next tape while we walk?" he asked.
"Tell me why she gave them to you first," I countered stubbornly.
"I'll tell you," he said, "if you'll just listen to the next tape right now."
"Why?"
"Malfoy, I'm not joking. Listen to the tape."
The idea of Longbottom bossing me around would have been comical on any other day. But not tonight.
"Then answer my question," I insisted.
"Because it's about you, Malfoy." He stepped out onto the first step leading out of the castle. "The next tape is about you."
Nothing. My heart didn't jump. My eyes didn't flinch. I didn't breathe.
And then...
I snapped my arm back, my elbow even with my shoulder, and smashed it into the door. Longbottom turns, resting a hand on my shoulder.
"Listen to it," he repeated calmly. "And walk with me."
With tears finally falling, I turned my head up to look at him. But he's staring over the grounds again.
I took the tape player from my pocket and opened it, removing the tape. The fifth tape. A dark blue number nine in the corner. My tape. I was number nine.
I dropped the tape back into the player and, holding it in both hands, closed it like a book.
Neville stepped out into the night air, heading for the path leading off of the grounds, towards Hogsmeade. Without looking, I ran my thumb across the top of the player, feeling for the button that brought me into the story. And then I followed him, pressing play.
Romeo, oh Romeo. Wherefore art thou, Romeo?
My story. My tape. This was how it began.
Good question, Juliet. And I wish I knew the answer.
Longbottom spoke then, loud enough to be heard over the tape, "Malfoy, it's alright!"
I guess I was still crying.
To be totally honest, there was never a point where I said to myself, Draco Malfoy... he's the one.
Just hearing my name, the pain in my head doubled. I felt an agonizing twist in my heart.
I'm not even sure how much of the real Draco Malfoy I got to know over the years. Most of what I knew was second-hand information, his reputation, the rumors... and then there was the war, when I think that his family and their beliefs were largely responsible for his actions.
Most of you listening will probably scoff at that. But think about these facts: Draco did not kill Dumbledore. He was supposed to. Dumbledore hoped he would. But he didn't. He never killed anyone. He lied to Bellatrix Lestrange, to all of the Death Eaters, and said that he couldn't tell if it was really Harry that was brought to Malfoy Manor. He did not torture me there, though he was present when it happened.
And how many of you could stand up to your whole family in such a serious situation? And even if you could, how many of you could defy a person who would harm your family if you did? You would either obey your parents, or try to protect them. I would hope that most of you would be guilty of one of these actions.
Yes, he acted like a right git through most of our school years. A pretentious little prat who believed he was better than everyone. But wasn't he raised that way? We were children. All of us, children. We went through all of that...
Her voice was choked now, and for that I still couldn't stop crying.
And we were just children.
She cleared her throat determinedly.
After the war, I wanted to get to know him better. Because we were children, and we'd all made mistakes. And people were just so unforgiving. You have to forgive to heal. Hate just festers, and I was rotting inside. So yes, wanting to forgive Draco was actually largely a selfish desire on my part. But there you have it.
And once I did talk to him, I noticed he wasn't quite the same person. And it was one of those things that, once I noticed it, I couldn't stop noticing it.
I'd finally managed to get a hold of myself. I wasn't crying anymore, at least, though there was still a lump in my throat, reminding me that it could start again at any time.
I hope this tape doesn't make you want to find reasons to continue hating him. He has his faults, and I understand that a lot of people aren't ready to forgive yet.
But wait, isn't that what I'm doing? I'm setting him up as changed, as redemed, as a victim, only to tear him down. I, Hermione Granger, was just waiting for that final damning flaw that was completely his. And I found it. And now I can't wait to tell everyone what it is and ruin him for good.
Well... no.
My chest relaxed, freeing a breath of air that I didn't know I had been holding.
And I hope that you're not disappointed. I hope that, despite everything, you still want to believe the best in people and that people aren't all bad. And I hope that you aren't just listening – salivating – for gossip. I hope these tapes mean more to you than that.
Draco, honey, your name does not belong on this list.
I nearly sobbed at that. It was almost worse, this way. Her saying I wasn't at fault, that I didn't belong, but having to listen to it... to her... anyway.
I breathed in deep, letting the cold night air fill my lungs. Maybe I could keep it together. Maybe. I would try.
You don't belong in the same way as the others. It's like that song: One of these things is not like the others. One of these things just doesn't belong.
And that's you, Draco. But you need to be here if I'm going to tell my story. To tell it more completely.
I stopped the tape and turned to Longbottom. We were about a quarter of the way up the path now, and he was looking determinedly ahead, into the darkness.
"Why do I have to hear this?" I asked, almost embarrassed at the note of desperation in my voice. "Why didn't she skip me if I don't belong?"
Longbottom kept walking. If he looked anywhere other than straight ahead, I didn't catch it.
"I would've been happier never hearing this," I said.
Longbottom shook his head. "No. It would drive you crazy not knowing what happened to her."
I stared at the path ahead, winding up to the small shining lights of Hogsmeade in the distance. And I realized he was right.
"Besides," he said, "I think she wanted you to know.
Maybe, I thought. But why? "Where are we going?"
He still didn't answer that, and I didn't really expect him to. I pressed play.
Yes, there are some major gaps in my story. Some parts I just couldn't figure out how to tell. Or couldn't bring myself to say out loud. Events I haven't come to grips with... that I'll never come to grips with. And if I never have to say them out loud, then I never have to think them all the way through.
But does that diminish any of your stories? Are your stories any less meaningful because I'm not telling you everything?
No.
Actually, it magnifies them.
You don't know what went on in the rest of my life. At home. Even at school. You don't know what goes on in anyone's life but your own. And when you mess with one part of a person's life, you're not messing with just that part. Unfortunately, you can't be that precise and selective. When you mess with one part, you're messing with the entire thing.
Everything... affects everything.
The next few stories are centered around one night.
That night.
They're centered around our night, Draco. And you know what I mean by our night because, through all of the years we've spent going to the same school, or fighting in the same war, there's only one night when we connected.
When we really connected.
That night drags many of you into the story as well... one of you for a second time. A random night that none of you can take back.
I hated that night. Even before these tapes, I hated it. That night, I ran to tell a witch that her husband was fine. Everything was going to be fine. But I was lying. Because while I was running to comfort his wife, the other wizard was dying.
And the first wizard, by the time he got back to this wife, he knew it.
Hopefully, no one will hear these tapes except for those of you on this list, leaving any changes they bring into your lives completely up to you.
Of course, if these tapes, or the memories, do get out, you'll have to deal with consequences completely out of your control. So I sincerely hope you're passing them on.
I glanced at Longbottom. Would he really do that? Could he? Would he give those memories to someone not on the list?
Who?
For some of you, those consequences may be minimal. Maybe shame. Or embarrassment. But for others, it's hard to say. A lost job? Jail time?
Let's keep this between us, shall we?
So Draco, I wasn't even supposed to be at the Three Broomsticks that night. I was invited to the party, but I wasn't supposed to be there. My grades were slipping pretty fast, for the first time ever, and I should have stayed in and studied.
We were maybe halfway there, now. And still, Longbottom kept his eyes straight ahead. Did he want to avoid seeing me cry? Because he didn't have to worry, I wasn't. Not right then.
But I heard that you would be there.
What? Draco Malfoy at one of the interhouse parties at the Three Broomsticks? Unheard of.
I didn't usually go. Actually, that was the only night I went all year, although those parties were pretty frequent, and Blaise tried pretty hard to get me to go. Most of the people who would go hated me, and I had no desire to be treated like a leper all night.
Not only was that my first thought, it's what the people around me were talking about, too. No one could figure out why you had suddenly decided to show your face, as they phrased it. Of course they had a few theories, most of them bad, but well... we all know how accurate gossip tends to be. They weren't happy about it, though.
What did you expect, Hermione?
Most of you know the parties that I'm talking about, as you've all been to at least one. The date of this one is not important. But it was only a couple of weeks ago now.
So now you know. Now some of you know exactly where you fit in. But you'll have to wait until your name pops up to hear what I'm going to tell. To hear how much I tell.
That night, I decided that walking to the party alone would be nice. Relaxing. We had a lot of rain that week, and I remember the clouds were hanging low and thick. The air was warm for that time of night, too. My absolute favourite type of weather.
Mine, too.
It's funny. Walking by the stores and houses on my way to the party, it felt like life held so many possibilities. Limitless possibilities. And for the first time in a long time, I felt hope.
So did I. I forced myself out of the house and to that party. I was ready for something to happen. Something exciting. Good or bad. Maybe a new beginning.
Hope? Well, I guess I misread things a bit.
And now, knowing what happened between Hermione and me, would I have still gone? Even if nothing changed?
It was simply the calm before the storm.
I would. Yes. Even if the outcome stayed the same.
I wore a skirt, which was odd for me when I was out of uniform. I usually favoured jeans. But I wanted to look pretty, and girly, and maybe a little appealing.
I left out the back way from the castle – we all did, because it was after curfew. To get to Hogsmeade, I had to walk past the bench by the greenhouses – the first star on your map. And for some reason, in that moment, as I looked at the bench, now overgrown and unserviceable, the air felt heavy. Filled with loneliness. And that loneliness stayed with me through the rest of the night.
Even the best moments of the night were affected by that one incident – by that nonincident – as I passed the bench. Though I had a history there, it didn't matter. You can't go back to how things were. How you thought they were.
All you really have... is now.
Those of us on the tapes, we couldn't go back, either. We could never not find a package landing in front of us at breakfast. From that moment on, we would be different.
Which explains my overreaction, Draco. And that's why you'll get these tapes. To explain. To say I'm sorry.
Did she remember? Did she remember that I apologized that night? Is that why she was apologizing to me?
The party was well underway by the time I got there. Most people, unlike me, had left before curfew to save effort.
The usual crowd hung out by the door, drunk out of their minds, greeting everyone with a raised glass. I expected that Hermione would be an easy name to slur, and these guys did not disappoint. Half of them kept repeating it, trying to get it right, while the other half laughed.
But they were harmless. Fun drunks make a nice addition to any party. Not looking to fight. Not looking to score. Just looking to get drunk and laugh.
I remembered those guys. Like the mascots of the party. "Draco! Whatchoo doon here? Bah-ha-ha-ha!"
The inside of the Three Broomsticks was loud, and there was music but no one was dancing. It could have been any party... Except for one thing.
Draco Malfoy.
I'm sure you heard a lot of sarcastic remarks when you first arrived, but by the time I got there, to everyone else you were just a fact of the party. But unlike everyone else, you were the reason I came.
With everything going on in my life – going on in my head – I wanted to talk with you. Really talk. Like we did after Potions sometimes, but away from school, from classes, the dim, dank dungeons. Just once. A chance we never got at school. A chance to find out who you were.
We didn't get that chance because I was afraid. Afraid that someone like me had no chance with someone like her. That someone like me would mess it up with someone like her... or mess up someone like her.
That's what I thought. And I was fine with that. Because what if she got to know me and I turned out to be just like they said, at the heart of it all. What if I wasn't the person she hoped I would be?
That, more than anything, would have hurt the most. For both of us, probably.
And as I stood at the bar, waiting to order, you walked up behind me.
"Granger... Hermione," you corrected yourself uneasily, and I turned toward you. "Hey."
When she arrived, when she walked through the door, she caught me off guard. And like an idiot, I turned around, hurried to the back door, and straight out into the alley.
It was too soon, I told myself. I went to the party telling myself that if Hermione Granger showed up, I was going to talk to her. It was time. I didn't care who was there, I was going to keep my eyes focused on her and we were going to talk.
But then she walked in and I freaked out.
I couldn't believe it. Out of the blue, there you were.
No, not out of the blue. First I paced around the alley, cursing myself for acting like such a scared child. Then I walked back out onto the main road, fully intent on walking back to the castle.
But once I reached the path, I cursed myself some more. Then I walked back to the Three Broomsticks. The drunk students greeted me again, and I went straight to you.
It was anything but out of the blue.
"I don't know why," you said, "but I think we need to talk."
It took all of the nerve in the world to keep that conversation going. Nerve, and two tall firewhiskeys.
And I agreed, with probably the dumbest smile plastered on my face.
No... the kindest... maybe the most beautiful. But not the dumbest.
Anyway, you waited while Madam Rosmerta made my drink, and asked if then would be a good time to talk.
Please, don't read into that, any of you who are listening. Yes, it sounds all smooth and get-the-girl-smashed, but it wasn't. It didn't seem that way to me.
It wasn't. No one will buy it, most likely, but it wasn't.
Because if that was the case, he would have encouraged me to drink a bit more first.
So we found a table, which already had two people occupying it.
Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter.
But there weren't any other open tables, so we sat down – those two were a bit past noticing us, anyway. And what was the first thing we did? We set down our drinks, and started talking. Just... like... that.
So she had known it was them. She hadn't given any sign, any indication, that she noticed that it was Potter and Weasley. Her best friend kissing the girl who slapped her, right there, four years earlier, over an article about him. Of course, he probably hadn't known about that, and everyone knew they had become a couple over the years. It was like Hermione couldn't escape her past.
Everything I could have hoped for was happening. The questions were personal, as if catching up for the time we let pass. Yet the questions never felt intrusive.
Her voice, if physically possible, came through the headphones feeling warm, somehow. I pressed my hands over them, over my ears, to keep her words from escaping.
And they weren't intrusive. Because I wanted you to know me. Me. Not the Granger of rumours, or the Granger of legend.
It was wonderful. I couldn't believe Hermione and I were finally talking. Really talking. And I didn't want it to stop.
I loved talking with you, Hermione.
It seemed like you could know me. Like you could understand anything I told you. And the more we spoke, I knew why. The same things excited us. The same things concerned us.
You could have told me anything. That night, nothing was off limits. I would've stayed until you opened up and let everything out, but you didn't.
I wanted to tell you everything. And that hurt because some things were too scary. Some things even I didn't understand. How could I tell someone – someone that I was really talking to for the first time – everything that I was thinking?
I couldn't. It was too soon.
It wasn't.
Or maybe it was too late.
But you're telling me now. Why did you wait until now?
Her words weren't warm anymore. She might have wanted me to hear them that way, but they were burning me up instead. In my mind, and in my heart.
Draco, you kept saying that you knew things would go well between us, if we could move past what had happened over the years. You felt that way for a long time, you said. You knew that we would get along, if we could do that. That we would connect.
But how? You never explained that. How could you know? Because I knew what people said about me. I knew what you had said about me, over the years. The things you said, and did. Petty, childish things. I heard all the rumours and lies and speculation that would always be a part of me.
I knew they weren't true, Hermione. I mean, I hoped they weren't true. But I was too afraid to ask, to find out.
I was breaking. If only I'd talked to you sooner. We could have been... we could've... I don't know. But things had gone too far by then. My mind was set. Not on ending my life. Not yet. It was set on floating though school, what was left of it. On never being close to anyone, anymore. That was my plan. I'd finish school, and then I'd leave.
But then, I went to a party. I went to a party to meet you.
Why did I do that? To make myself suffer? Because that's what I was doing – hating myself for waiting so long. Hating myself because it wasn't fair to you.
The only thing that's not fair are these tapes, Hermione, because I was there for you. We were talking. You could have told me anything. I would have listened to absolutely anything.
The couple sitting at the table with us, the girl was drunk and laughing and bumping into me every so often. Which was funny at first, but it got old really fast.
Why isn't Hermione saying her name?
I started to think maybe she wasn't so drunk after all. Maybe it was all a show for the guy she was with... Maybe it was a hint that she wanted us to leave the table for the two of them alone.
So Draco and I left.
We walked around the party, shouting above the deafening noise everywhere we went. Eventually – successfully – I spun the conversation around. No more big and heavy topics. We needed to laugh. But everywhere we went it was too noisy to hear each other.
I remembered everything that happened next. I remembered it perfectly. But how did she remember it? How did it play out in her penseive?
While we were standing there, our backs against the door frame, drinks in hand, we couldn't stop laughing.
And yet the loneliness that I entered the party with came rushing back.
But I wasn't alone. I knew that. For the first time in a long time, I was connecting – connected – with another person from school. How in the world was I alone?
You weren't. I was there.
Because I wanted to be. That's all I can say. It's all that makes sense to me. How many times had I let myself connect with someone just to have it thrown back in my face?
Everything seemed good, but I knew it had the potential to be awful. Much, much more painful than the others.
There was no way that was going to happen. I wasn't going to let it happen.
So there you were, letting me connect with you. And when I couldn't do that I anymore, when I pulled the conversation to lighter topics, you made me laugh. And you were shockingly hilarious, Draco. You were just what I needed.
So... I kissed you.
No, I kissed you, Hermione.
A long and beautiful kiss.
And what did you say when we came up for air? With the smallest smirk, you asked, "What was that for?"
Right then. You kissed me.
To which I said, "You're such an idiot." And we kissed some more.
An idiot. Yes, I remembered that, too.
Eventually we made our way upstairs, to the rooms that Madam Rosmerta would rent out to travelers from time to time. We found a vacant one, and then we were on one side of the door, and the rest of the party, with its loud but muffled music, was on the other.
Amazing. We were together. That's what I kept thinking the whole time. Amazing. I had to concentrate just to keep that word from spilling out of my mouth.
Some of you may be wondering why you never heard about this. Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy? Surely people would have been dying to spread that story. And you always found out who I was making out with.
Because I never told. I never told anyone.
Wrong. You only thought you found out. Haven't you been listening? Or did you only pay attention to the tape with your name on it? Because I can count on one hand – yes, one hand – how many people I've kissed. But you, you probably thought I'd need both hands and both feet just to get started, right?
What's that? You don't believe me? You're shocked? Guess what... I don't care. The last time I cared what anyone thought about me was that night. And that was the last night.
I had to force myself to keep walking now, to keep up with Longbottom as we got closer to Hogsmeade. I clenched my teeth, trying hard not to scream.
But I did scream, the sound ripping through the still night. Longbottom didn't flinch, didn't turn around.
He just kept walking.
Now get comfortable, because I'm about to tell you what happened in that room between Draco and I. Are you ready?
We kissed.
That's all. We kissed.
I looked at the tape player in my hands, breathing hard, trying to calm my nerves, to keep from screaming again. I was too dark to see the spindles behind the plastic window, pulling the tape from one side to the other, but I needed to focus on something, so I tried. And concentrating on the spot where the two spindles should be was the closest I got to looking into Hermione's eyes as she told my story.
It was wonderful, both of us lying on the bed. One of his hands resting on my him, his other arm cradling my head like a pillow. Both of my arms hugging him, trying to pull him closer. And speaking for myself, I wanted more.
That's when I said it. That's when I whispered to her, "I'm so sorry." Because inside, I felt so happy and so sad at that same time. Sad that it took me so long to get there, but happy that we got there together.
Those kisses felt like first kisses. Kisses that said I could start over if I wanted to, with him. We could start over together.
But start over from what?
And that's when I thought of you, Viktor. For the first time in a long time, I thought of our first kiss. My real first kiss. I remembered the anticipation leading up to it. I remembered your lips pressed against mine.
And then I remembered how you ruined it.
"Stop," I told Draco, and my hands stopped pulling him in.
You pushed your hands against my chest. You pushed me away.
Could you feel what I was going through, Draco? Did you sense it? You must have.
No. You hid it. You never told me what it was.
I shut my eyes so tight it was painful, trying to push away all that I was seeing in my head. And what I saw was everything on this list... and more. Everyone up to that night. Everyone who caused me to be so intrigued by Draco's reputations, when you compared them with mine. How his was so different than mine.
No, we were the same.
And I couldn't help that. What everyone thought of me was out of control.
Draco, your reputation... It wasn't true. Like I said, you were a child. We were all children. But mine... Mine was... Crazy. The good and the bad, they just battled it out inside of me, and around me, with everything everyone whispered. And there I was, with you. Adding to my reputation.
But it wasn't like that. Who was I going to tell? Even if I had someone to tell, why would I tell?
"Stop," I repeated. This time I moved my hands to your chest and pushed you away. I turned to the side, burying my face in the pillow.
You started to talk, but I made you stop. I asked you to leave. You started to talk again and I screamed. I screamed. I screamed into the pillow.
And then you stopped. You heard me.
The bed lifted on your side as you got up to leave the room. But it took you forever to leave, to realize that I was serious.
I was hoping that you'd tell me to stop again. To stop leaving.
Even though my eyes remained shut, buried in the pillow, the light changed when you finally opened the door. It grew brighter, and then it faded again... and you were gone.
Why did I listen? Why did I leave her there? She needed me, and I knew that.
But I was scared. Once again, I let myself get scared.
And then I slid off the bed and down to the floor. I just sat there beside the bed, hugging my knees... and crying.
That, Draco, is where your story ends.
But it shouldn't have. I was there for you, Hermione. You could have reached out but you didn't. You chose this. You had a choice and you pushed me away. I would have helped you. I wanted to help you.
You left the room, and we never spoke again.
Your mind was made up. No matter what you said, it was set.
In the corridors, you tried catching my eye, but I always looked away. Because that night, when I got back to my room, I tore a page from my notebook and wrote down one name after another after another. The names in my head when I stopped kissing you.
There were so many names, Draco. Three dozen, at least.
And then... I made the connections.
I circled your name first, Viktor. Then I drew a line from you to Rita. I circled Rita and drew a line to Ginny, bypassing names that didn't connect – that just floated there – incidents all by themselves.
My anger and frustration with all of you turned into tears and then back to anger and hate every time I found a new connection.
And then I reached Draco, the reason I went to the party. I circled his name and drew a line... back. Back to a previous name.
It was Harry. I just had this feeling, he had to be on these tapes somewhere, didn't he?
In fact, Draco, soon after you left and shut the door... that person reopened it.
Granger had said that he didn't have a tape of his own, and she had made it a point not to name him earlier. It had to be him. He was at the party, at the table with Ginny.
But that person has probably already received these tapes. So, Draco, just skip him when you pass them on. I'm not going to say his name, but I'm sure you'll know who I'm talking about. In a roundabout way, he caused a new name to be added to this list. And that's who should receive the tapes from you.
And Draco... I'm sorry, too.
I stopped the tape. My eyes stung. Not from crying, but because I hadn't closed them since hearing that Hermione cried when I left the room.
Every muscle in my neck burned to turn away. To look away from the end of the path, just a few feet ahead of us, and the main street of Hogsmeade. But I couldn't bring myself to move, to break the effect of her words.
I let myself drop to sit on the ground by the path, unable or unwilling to go any further just yet – I wasn't sure which. Maybe both. Longbottom stopped walking and looked down at me.
"You alright?" he asked. I didn't answer him, just letting my head fall to my knees. I took a few steadying breaths and slowly shook my head no.
"Are you going to be alright?" he asked.
I raised my head again, looking up at Longbottom. "I miss her," I said, my voice thick.
"I miss her, too," he said after a moment. He was looking down at the ground instead of at me. Was he crying? Or maybe trying not to cry?
"The thing is," I said, "I never really missed her until now."
He shifted from foot to foot and then looks at me, finally, but didn't say anything.
"I didn't know what to make of that night. Everything that happened. I'd liked her for awhile, from far away, but I never had a chance to tell her." I looked down at the tape player. "We only had one night, and by the end of that night, it seemed like I knew her even less than before. But now I know. I know where her mind was that night. Now I know what she was going through."
I stopped talking when my voice broke, and the break came with a fresh flood of tears.
Longbottom didn't respond. He looked out over the grounds, everything but the castle nearly indiscernible in the late-night darkness, and then back towards the village. He allowed me to just sit there on the ground and miss her. To miss her each time I pulled in a breath of air. To miss her with a heart that felt so cold by itself, but so warm when thoughts of her coursed through me.
I wiped the cuff of my robes under my eyes and force out a choked laugh. "Thanks for listening to all of that," I said. "Next time, it's fine to stop me."
Longbottom turned away once more, letting me clamor to my feet once more, and then started off once more towards the main street. He didn't look at me again.
"You're welcome," he said.
/
AN: There are certain things that are off in this chapter, if you read the original book, but it was how it worked best, because if I followed the pattern of the original, I couldn't figure out any way to make it make sense that Ginny was with Krum. So I apologize for that. I hope it read well, regardless.
The next chapter is a bit heavy, and may be hard for some of you to read. When it is posted, it will have a warning up. Please read this carefully and proceed with discretion. Look for it by Saturday morning!
Well, please review if you have a moment! Nothing brightens my day quite like hearing from you guys! And I'll see you next chapter!
Thoughts on casting Neville as Tony: It doesn't match up perfectly, like most of the major players, because Neville is not a muggleborn. In Asher's novel, Hannah got her tape recorder from Tony. Obviously this wouldn't be the case in the mash-up. But in every other way, and especially his personality, and the way he treats Draco, it matches. Other characters considered for the part included Dean Thomas, because he's muggleborn, and Harry, for obvious reasons. Harry was ruled out for reasons that will become evident in the next chapter.