Chapter 11: Before You Regret It
Hermione Granger stood in the boys common room of the Gryffindor tower, studying the trunks and supplies before her. She had been tasked with packing Harry and Ron's things for the Horcrux Hunt they had just decided to embark upon come the fall, while the boys helped usher adult guests back to the Hogwarts Express following Dumbledore's funeral.
The silence was so unnerving and complete, that she did not even hear the approach of footsteps behind her, so lost in thought was she about what they would need to inventory.
"Hermione? What are you doing up here?"
She spun around, a hand to her heart, to find Neville Longbottom staring at her. "Neville! You startled me!"
He smiled apologetically, but his eyes still asked the question he had just voiced. Hermione shrugged.
"Harry and Ron asked me to pack for them while they cleared up at the funeral." Which was technically the truth, just vague.
Neville chuckled as he crossed to his bunk. "You do too much for them."
"They're not going to last that long out there without me..." Hermione muttered.
She said too much, wishing she could take it back, but too late. Neville had picked up on it. Turning, he frowned, "What do you mean, 'out there'?"
In all the years she had known him, Hermione had never been able to lie to the sweet young man standing in front of her. His piercing green eyes had never allowed a falsehood from her. So, even though Harry had expressly ordered that they tell no one about what they were doing or where they were going, she admitted, "Harry and Ron and I aren't coming back next year, Neville. We have to go... on a mission."
Neville drew closer to her, his eyes narrowing as if he was trying to peer into Hermione's soul. "It has something to do with Voldemort," he accurately guessed.
Hermione visibly gulped. "Yes," she whispered.
Neville stiffened as he took in this information. "You can't!" he burst out. "His minions are already looking for Harry; you'll all get yourselves killed!"
Recalling a memory from their childhood, and trying to talk Neville off the ledge before he went blabbing to anyone else, Hermione joked, "You're not going to threaten to fight us without a wand again, are you?"
Neville didn't take the bait. "Oh, we're far past that, Hermione!" he chuckled mirthlessly. "And what are you thinking, letting Harry and Ron talk you into this? You're Muggle-born! If the Death Eaters get their hands on you..."
"I'll be fine!" Hermione insisted with a brave smile.
"You don't understand! If something happened to you... how could I ever live with myself?" Neville looked strangely pained.
Hermione gazed at him curiously as Neville regarded her with tears in his eyes. All at once, several, disparate memories assaulted her and fit together to point to one conclusion. A conclusion she hadn't thought of before. Neville threatening to fight her and her friends during their first year. Neville always turning to her for help in hard subjects. Neville asking her to the Yule Ball, and then to Slughorn's Christmas party; she had turned him down both times on account of already having a date. The time they finally went on a date this year, on Valentine's Day in Hogsmeade, and he had almost... And Neville's particular concern for her now, on a high-stakes mission.
Hermione understood and her features softened. Why hadn't she seen before that he cared so much? She sidled up to Neville, a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Neville... if there's something you want to tell me... tell me now before you regret it."
Silence. Hermione leaned forward eagerly, waiting for him to say the words, if not for her own peace, then for his. And maybe it actually was for her own peace, in some way...
He didn't say a word, just stared at her, pained. Sad that he could not clear the air before possibly not seeing her again, Hermione trudged past him and left to go over to the girls' dormitory, gather some of her things. By the time she returned to the boys' room, Neville was gone.