Lenore stood silently at the door to the Great Hall. Each time the door swung open, the breeze caused hair to fly into her face and get stuck on her red lipstick.

She was not sure what to wear, so she went with ankle boots, leggings, an oversized thin flannel shirt, and a knit scarf. It was a few weeks from October and the weather was unseasonably chilly at best, especially in the evening. Soon the snow would arrive, bring with it brisk air, red cheeks, and freezing cold dormitories. Lenore loved winter in the U.K., but it was much more harsh than winters in America. She still was not used to the long cold months.

More and more people passed, some staring at the girl loitering by the door, others so deep in thought or conversation that they did not notice.

"Hi Lenore," a few people said as they passed. Lenore smiled kindly and waved hello. Most of the people greeting her were second years she had rescued from Slytherin torment last year.

"Hi Lenore."

This time the voice was much deeper.

"Hi Neville!" she said, seeing him to her right. He donned nice black trousers, a knit sweater with a zipper, and a thin coat.

"Shit," Lenore thought, "I should run back to my room and get a coat."

"A-are you ready to go?" he asked.

Lenore looked down at her watch. She wanted to make the most of this date. She did not want to waste time fetching a jacket.

"Yes," she grinned.

"Alright," he said, "you wanna follow me?"

The pair made small talk as they walked out of the castle and over the grassy knolls until they reached a rocky downhill section just outside the castle. Neville jumped down each stone with ease, but Lenore hesitated. She did not want to slip and fall in her boots. Neville noticed she was quite a ways behind him. He stopped and turned around.

"Here," he said, much quieter than he intended. He was not even sure Lenore had heard, but she still grabbed his outstretched hand. He steadied her as she hopped down the ridge. When they got to the bottom, he expected her to let go of his hand and she did— only to wrap her arm into his. He gulped and glanced at her.

"Where are we going?" she asked with a knowing smile.

"T-there's this section of the lake I really want to show you. It's beautiful, especially this time of year."

"Oh, okay. Sounds good."

The pair made small talk about the weather or their classes until they reached the edge of a thick, dimly-lit forest. The lake was nowhere in sight. Lenore had never come at it from this angle.

"Are you sure this is safe?" Lenore said, clutching him tighter.

"I'm certain," Neville said. "I'd never bring you somewhere dangerous. It's just a small group of trees, I promise."

Lenore followed him through the tall pines and emerged on the other side to a sea of oranges and reds and yellows. The lake was about fifteen feet in front of them, shining orange and purple from the sun's late afternoon stage. They seemed to be in a large valley, as trees changing into their autumn leaves surrounded them on every side. The grass underneath their feet was thick and green. Lenore's mouth dropped.

Neville smiled. "It's great, isn't it?"

"I didn't even know the lake could be this pretty!"

"Me neither, until I got lost and found this place."

Lenore shook her head and stared. The view should be on a postcard.

"D-do you want to sit down?" Neville asked. "I thought we could just talk."

"Yeah," Lenore said, snapping out of her awed daze. "Lead the way."

Neville pulled a blanket out of his charmed-to-be-larger coat pocket, set it on the ground, and sat down so that he could lean his back against a tree. Lenore sat on the blanket to his right and also leaned back. Along with the blanket, he pulled out a bottle of Madam Mamba's Fruit Juice and two champagne glasses.

She glanced up at him. "Where'd you get this?"

"Seamus knicked it from the kitchen," he shrugged.

Her face lit up. "Well, tell him thanks."

He poured the liquid, which resembled the texture of muggle boba tea and tasted slightly of pineapple and strawberries, into both glasses and handed her one. She thanked him and settled in next to him, staring out onto the lake.

"Neville," she said after a moment, "Tell me one thing about yourself that I don't know."

"Like what?"

"Anything."

Neville thought a moment. "Whenever I eat a burger and chips, I don't eat the chips separately. I put them inside the bun and eat them together."

"What?" Lenore laughed. "Does that taste good?"

"I like it," he shrugged. "Tell me something about you."

"Do you know what a pencil is?"

"The yellow things muggles write with?"

"Yes! I have a piece of pencil lead stuck in my foot."

His eyes flashed between her eyes and her feet. "Are you serious?"

Lenore whipped off her shoe and sock before Neville could ask my more questions. "See that grey dot?" She pointed to the top of her foot.

"Yeah, oh my god."

"I was playing a game when I was eight where I juggled three pencils. One of them fell on my foot and the graphite has been there ever since."

"Is it dangerous?"

"No."

Neville grinned. "Why would you think juggling sharp objects was a good idea?"

"We all make mistakes, Longbottom! Don't hate."

Neville shook his head. "I bet you tell that story to everyone."

"Trust me, I do. Tell me about any scars you have."

He examined his body. "I've got a few." He pointed to his ankle. "I have a line on my ankle from a plant."

"A plant gave you a scar?" she asked with wide eyes.

"It wasn't even a magical plant. It was some sharp, fuzzy vine at the creek near my great aunt's house. I was playing around it and it cut my ankle. A faint white line is still there."

He rolled up his pant leg and showed Lenore. She gasped. It was hardly noticeable, but she could not believe a plant could scar people. "You weren't lying."

"No," he laughed. "My other scar is a little cooler. But I can't show you it."

"Why?" she asked.

"It's on my butt."

She laughed. "What?"

"I've actually got two more scars. They're from the same thing and they look pretty much the same. One on my butt and one on my side up here, which is a lot more noticeable," he gestured to his ribs.

"What from?"

"From… the Ministry thing in June," he said.

"Oh," she said quietly. Neville had not told her anything about the event which the newspapers called "The Battle of the Department of Mysteries." Sometimes, she forgot it happened, even though he very obviously never did. "How'd you get them?"

"Basically just falling down a lot," he shrugged. "And being grabbed. I'm just glad they fixed my nose, though. No scars there."

"Yeah," she was all she could say.

"So… have you got any other scars? Beside the pencil attack?"

She smiled, moved her a piece of hair away from her face, and pointed to a tiny round crater near her temple. "I have a chicken pox scar."

"What's chicken pox?" he asked, crinkling his eyebrows.

She squinted. "Do wizards not have chicken pox?"

He looked confused. "Did you hit yourself with a cooking utensil?"

"No," she laughed. "Chicken pox is a disease. Like the flu. Kids get it all the time. It's contagious and spreads from kid to kid, normally in early school years. I got it when I was eight. It just makes little itchy red dots appear all over your skin. You're not supposed to scratch them or they leave scars. I guess I scratched that one."

"I have never heard of that," he said. "Wizards can't get it, you don't think?"

"Oh, I have no idea. I went to a muggle school, so maybe you lot just don't encounter it. My dad never had it, so when my sister and I got it, we were concerned he would catch it. It's dangerous for adults, that's why you want to get it as a kid, because once you get it, you build up immunity and never get it again, in most cases. But my dad didn't catch it from my sister and I, so maybe not. Now, you can make your joke about us disease-ridden half-bloods."

"What?" Neville nearly gasped. "Why would I do that?"

"Oh, shit," she clapped her hand over her mouth. "I forgot who I was talking to."

"Do people really say things like that?"

She slowly let her hands slide from her face. She nodded. "I hear it all the time. Mostly from Slytherins, but I've even overheard Hufflepuffs making fun of muggles before. I try to make the joke before other people do, because it gives me the power, not them."

"That's smart," he said, "but also incredibly depressing."

She smiled sadly. "It doesn't bother me. It's just a part of life."

"It would bother me."

"It takes quite a bit to bother me," Lenore said. "I'm pretty easy-going."

"You mean, you ignore it."

"Okay, Longbottom," she laughed. "Stop psychoanalyzing me."

"Sorry," he grinned. "Alright then, tell me, what is your earliest memory?"

"Ooo, that's a good question." She thought a moment. "My grandma, the witch one, introducing me to her neighbor. I didn't really know my dad's parents very well. My dad was never on the best terms with them. They retired in Wales at the time, while we lived in the States, and they died when I was nine, before we moved here. I met them both only twice, the first time when I was three, I think, maybe barely four. We used the floo network both times, much to my mom's reluctance. My nan noticed her neighbor was outside, so she took me down her driveway to show me off. I remember she wore a hot pink sweatshirt and pink sweatpants. She liked wearing muggle clothes that she found in second-hand shops. Her hands smelled like cigarettes and her curly blonde q-tip hair still had hot rollers in it. That's all. What about you?"

"Mine is about my grandma, too," said Neville. "I was maybe four years old, sitting on her lap as she read Go, Owl, Go to me."

Lenore clutched her heart and gave a faux-pout. "That is so cute. Did she read to you often?"

Neville nodded. "She tried to. I used to read quite a bit as a child, because I had no siblings or cousins my age. There was nothing much else to do."

"I used to read a lot too. What was your favorite book?"

"It was a muggle book, actually. Bridge to Terabithia."

"STOP," shouted Lenore. She turned her body to face him head on. "That was my favorite book, too!"

"No! Was it really?"

"Yes! For a long while, at least. Oh my god, tell me you sobbed your eyes out."

"I did. Merlin, was it depressing. But I loved it. Why was it your favorite?"

"I'm not sure I can give you one reason. That year in school, we read a ton of books about death. In one, a teenager drowned. Another book, a boy died of a bee sting. It was like the year they decided to introduce us to death. I remember that book being my favorite, because the boy struggled with losing his friend. It felt real. And it was well-written and magical. Why did you like it?"

"Basically the same reasons— it felt real."

"It feels even more real now that I've had a friend die," Lenore said quietly. "When I was a kid, it was all abstract to be dealing with those issues. But now I know."

Neville nodded. "I read it right before my granddad died and then I reread it after. You're right, it's different."

Lenore bit her lip and nodded understandingly. She returned to her spot next to him, but she sat even closer this time, so that their shoulders touched. "Tell me about your childhood," she said, staring out to the shimmering water on the lake.

"What about it?"

"What was it like growing up with Augusta?"

Neville smiled. "It was strict. And kind of lonely, you know? It was just me and her a lot of the time. But it could also be fun. She taught me a lot, gave me a good education, bought me books, played games with me, she really tried to be the best grandmother she could be. When I got older, she got stricter. I think it was because I wasn't acting like my dad, so she didn't know what to expect."

"What was your dad like?"

"He was popular, as far as I know," Neville said. "He was Head Boy, the teachers loved him, he was well-known in the Order. He was fairly outgoing and friendly. My mum was a bit more shy, but adults tell me she was the kindest person they ever met. Gran told me she used to think mum wasn't good enough for dad, until one day she stood up to Gran."

"What did she do?"

"My mum naturally had long blonde curly hair. When she entered the auror program, she cut it really short, like… You know Kadence Atkins' hair?"

Lenore nodded. "A pixie cut."

"Yeah," he said. "Oh wait, you've seen the photo in my room. Well, she cut her hair like that right before the wedding and dyed it dark brown. Gran went off on her about how it would ruin the wedding photos and how her hair looked 'unfeminine' and my mum basically told her to fuck off. And ever since then, my grandma liked her."

"What?" Lenore laughed.

"Gran likes people who stand up for what they believe in. She can't stand passive people who let others step on them. That's why we clash sometimes, because I don't want to fight every bloke who says something stupid."

"How long did your parents date before they got married?"

"Gran said they were both sixteen, but she thinks they dated before that and hid it from her."

Lenore laughed.

"I've seen photos of them together in the attic, and I would say they probably started dating around fourteen."

"Oh wow," said Lenore. "That's a long time, especially at our age."

"It might have been off and on," Neville shrugged. "I have no idea. How did your parents meet?"

"At a museum. It was all very posh, which is funny, because they definitely aren't. They both really love history and my mom noticed my dad admiring some exhibit. She walked up to him and starting telling him all about the piece, and he just nodded and let her explain. They walked around the museum together and he let her talk pretty much the entire time, he would just ask questions. He asked her to go to the pub with him afterwards, where she finally found out he has a doctorate in history and taught at a university. He was just being nice by pretending he did not know. She was so embarrassed she thought he would never speak to her again, but they got married two years later."

"That's a good story," Neville said. "It sounds like something you would do."

Lenore laughed. "It does, doesn't it? I don't think I act like either of my parents though. They are both this weird combination of shy and loud. Like, when they're talking one and one to a stranger, they're reserved. But then you bring them out in public and my mom has no qualms about screaming across Safeway when my sister isn't walking fast enough. They're quiet, but once you get to know them they say the craziest shit."

"Definitely sounds like you."

She smiled and nudged his shoulder. The sun was setting over the lake, illuminating the entire valley a bright burnt orange and glowing pink. The water lapped against the rocky grey shore. "The lake is so pretty," Lenore sighed.

She laid her head on his shoulder. He adjusted his body so she would be more comfortable, which made her smile.

"The lake isn't the only thing here that's pretty," Neville whispered in her ear.

Her stomach flipped. She inched her fingers closer to his arm and touched the inside of his elbow.

"The trees are also nice."

Lenore could feel him silently shaking with laughter. She sat up and glared at him. "You arsehole," she said, as a huge grin illuminated her face.

He began laughing out loud. "I haven't finished the list."

"No?"

"No. I'm starting at the bottom. The lake, then the trees, and firstly, you."

She shook her head and smiled. "Damn, that was smooth."

"I'm a bit surprised myself."

She laid her head against him once more. He kissed the top of her hair, then rested his head on hers. They sat in silence for a few minutes until the sun fell behind the lake and only dusk remained. Lenore closed her eyes.

The chill of night set over the air around them.

"Should we be going back now?" Lenore asked.

"Yeah," Neville said. He was sorry to be leaving. He loved talking to Lenore. The way she looked at him while he spoke was like nothing he had ever experienced. Her eyes seemed to watch every word that formed in his brain. It was a look of true interest, rather than mild apathy. She listened to him, rather than using her own silence to think of her next story. Neville always felt nervous talking to her, but it was not the same sort of nervousness he felt talking to other people. Rather than being scared he would say something stupid, he only struggled with stammering. He hoped it would go away as soon as he got more comfortable around her.

Lenore held onto his arm again as they made their way though the thick pine forest. It was significantly darker and more eerie than their first time through. When they reached the clearing, Neville could feel Lenore shaking against his arm.

"Are you okay?"

"I-I'm fine," she said through chattering teeth.

"Are you cold?"

"I-I'm fine," she repeated. "We'll be at the castle soon."

Neville stopped walking and took off his jacket. The brisk air attacked his body where heat once was.

"Take this," he said, wrapping his coat around Lenore.

"N-no, then you'll be cold."

"I have a jumper and plaid on. You only have the plaid. This makes us even."

"Are you sure?"

Neville placed the coat on her shoulders. Lenore slipped her arms into the holes. "T-thanks."

Her arm intertwined with his again and led her to the bottom of the huge grassy hill. To their right, a large field full of white and pink flowers shivered in the cool wind. Lenore stopped walking.

"L-look how pretty," she said, her teeth still vibrating.

"They really are."

"Do you know what kind of flowers they are?"

Neville squinted. Lenore let go of him as he inched closer to the wild plants. He bent down to examine the flower. "The pink ones are Dactylorhiza fuchsii, commonly called a spotted-orchid, and the whitish-green ones are Spiranthes romanzoffiana, or Irish lady's-tresses, both native to Scotland."

"Holy hell," she said, with wide eyes.

Neville blushed, suddenly aware he should have been more low-key with the information. "I-I learned that in the book you got me."

"You sit there and memorize the flowers?"

He nodded, still a bit embarrassed. "Kind of. I try to learn them."

Lenore smiled. "Is it strange that I think that's hot?"

"Y-yes, probably," his cheeks flushed even more than before. "I don't know anybody who has 'flora knowledge' high on their list of attractive things."

"Not the flower part, specifically," she said. "The knowledge. You know so many facts."

Neville smiled. "T-thanks. I-it really isn't a lot."

"Tell me more about these flowers, if you remember anything."

"Both… both flowers grow in wet, marshy areas. You can see it get wetter over there," he pointed towards the other end of the patch of flowers. "The lady tresses are rare. Many of them have been killed by muggle pesticides and chemicals. The orchid is extremely common all over the UK. Both are them flower in late summer, so they are about to die."

"Aww," Lenore said.

He plucked a single flower from the dirt.

"Neville!" Lenore halted him. "What are you doing? You're killing them faster!"

"They don't have to die," Neville glanced down at the flora. "I'll put them in a pot and grow their roots and make them always bloom."

"Like those roses you gave me?"

He nodded.

"Wow. That's so cool."

He smiled and continued selecting flowers. "I wouldn't think you would be concerned about dying flowers."

"Well, you gave that impassioned speech about them, and I just wondered if you were concerned about them."

"You know you care," he said wryly.

She smiled. He could always see through her guarded act. "Maybe I do. But you said the Irish ones are rare, why are you plunking them?"

Neville removed his wand and with a quick wave and a whispered spell, the population of the white-green flowers nearly doubled.

"Oh my god," breathed Lenore. "I didn't know you were this… skilled!"

"T-thank you. I'm really not."

"Hush. You are."

Neville stepped over a puddle of muddy water and held out the flowers to Lenore. She glanced up at him. "These are for me?"

He nodded and gave her a questioning look.

"I thought they were for your personal collection or something."

"N-no. But if you don't want them o-or you have enough flowers, I-I can keep them."

"No," she took the flowers from his hand with a grin. "I'll never have enough flowers. This is so sweet."

Neville wished he could stop blushing. "I'll put them in a pot for you when we get back to the castle."

"That would be great."

The pair reached the castle just before night fully arrived. Neville led her to the Herbology greenhouses, placed the flowers in a ceramic pot, said a few spells, and the flowers sprung to life. Lenore gasped. "They look even better than they did outside."

He handed her the pot.

"I'll keep it on my dresser," she said, staring at him so wonderfully. "Merlin, if we keep this up, I'm not going to have a spare inch of my room not covered in flowers."

Neville asked if he could walk Lenore to her house and she enthusiastically agreed. This night could not have been more perfect. He had fun and guessed Lenore did, as well. The more he learned about her, the more he grew to appreciate her. As they walked, she said, "This is so weird."

"What?"

"We just went on a date."

Neville looked over to see Lenore's amused face. "Yeah," he smiled. "It's wild."

"I had a great time tonight," she replied.

"I did, too," Neville said.

"Let's do it again."

"Next Friday?"

"Friday works."

They arrived at the Slytherin Dungeon. Lenore led Neville to a small crevice of the castle down the hall from the dungeons. They could not be seen unless someone was really looking.

"Thank you," she said.

"F-for what?"

"For taking me out to see that beautiful place. For being a fun date and good company."

Neville noticed that Lenore's eyes kept flickering from his eyes to his lips. God, how he wanted to kiss her. Her lips beckoned his entire soul towards her. She looked bloody gorgeous tonight, as always. He considered leaning in and separating the distance between them, but a small voice in the back of his head stopped him. What if he was misinterpreting the signs? He finally decided to ask.

"W-when you do that glancing thing, between my eyes and lips, d-does that mean you want me to kiss you?"

She laughed and blushed a bit. His stomach twisted itself into a knot at the sight of her flushed cheeks. "Yeah."

"O-okay," he stammered.

Lenore set her potted plant on the ground next to her. "Are you going to kiss me gently or is my tongue going down your throat again?"

Neville flushed red and she stood up. "W-whichever one you want."

She beamed. "Softly."

"I-I can do that."

He stepped closer and traced her jaw, until his fingers intertwined with the hair on the back of her head. The briefest moment of hesitation passed between them as he stared into her sparkling eyes. She was so beautiful that it made his heart physically hurt. He closed the distance between them and kissed her timidly. Lenore placed her hands on his chest, clinging to the front zipper of his jumper. She deepened the kiss and took control. Neville noticed that, generally, whoever's bottom lip was being sucked was the submissive one. She kissed him over and over, her smooth lips capturing his and releasing for a brief moment, before taking his skin again. She kissed more delicately than he did, or maybe "delicately" was not the word. Maybe she simply kissed like she had all the time in the word, unlike him, who always felt rushed to kiss her before she undoubtedly pulled away and never spoke to him again. He needed to stop worrying. Her fingers absent-mindedly played with his jumper zipper, bringing it up and down a centimeter. His body relaxed a little when she stopped moving her hands.

Finally, she leaned away. When her eyes caught sight of Neville's face, she gasped.

"What?" he asked quickly. Oh god, now here came the never speaking to him again part.

"Nothing," she said with a smile. "Shit. I knew I put on too much lipstick."

"Why?" Neville asked.

She giggled and pulled a compact mirror out of her small purse. She opened it and handed it to Neville, who examined his face. His lips and the surrounding area were covered in a light coating of deep red lipstick. He laughed and wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist.

"Sorry," she said. "I must've forgotten to blot it with a tissue. I never wear red, I just thought it went better with my outfit."

"I don't mind," he smiled. "And it looks good on you."

"It looks better on you," she said.

"No way," he wiped his face again. "Nobody could ever wear it as great as you."

She sent him a grateful smile, slipped off his coat, and handed it to him.

"Merlin, your hands are cold," Neville said as he took the coat from her. "Are you sure you don't need this?"

"I told you, I'll be fine," she said. "Thank you for being so nice."

On a whim, Neville took both her hands and held them in his. He rubbed them between his hands to warm them up.

She bit her lip to stop from smiling. "I don't understand why it's so cold out this early. This winter is going to be terrible."

"Maybe it's just a one day thing," he said. "Like a cold front or something."

"It is supposed to rain tomorrow, I heard."

"Yuck."

"You don't like rain?"

He raised his eyebrows. "You do?"

"I absolutely love it."

"You have the weirdest tastes," he said.

"Well, I did go on a date with you."

Neville's mouth dropped open and he let out an amused sigh as Lenore positively doubled-over laughing, crippled by her own quip. Neville chuckled nervously along with her, admiring her cleverness. She removed her hands from his and took him in a hug.

"Only kidding," she said in between giggles. "Thank you for tonight."

"No, thank you," he said.

She pulled away and Neville grabbed her hand one more time. He placed a soft kiss on her knuckles.

"Is this 1798?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied. "Goodnight."

She laughed. "Goodnight."