Ch. 45 The Kiss

'There had been a horrible incident the day before, when Hannah Abbott had been taken out of Herbology to be told her mother had been found dead. They had not seen Hannah since.' - Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince

Parvati

"What was it, Theo?" Parvati whispered into the dark. "What was the vow you made?"

Theo looked up from where Parvati's fingers were still tracing the criss-crossed markings on his wrist. He blinked, impatiently brushed a remnant tear from his cheek and gave her that now-familiar calculating look, as if he were evaluating, weighing-up, deciding...

He shifted his gaze to the floor and took a deep breath before beginning to speak.

"My mother – she died when I was nine. But before that, for about a year, she'd gradually got frailer...more and more ill. It was a time when I didn't have any suppressants, because my father couldn't bear to acknowledge my...condition...it was just too shameful. It was never talked about. I didn't even know what it was then, I just thought it was me – that I was a monster, sullied and contaminated in some way.

"So every month, I'd have these rages, but my mother helped soothe me – just her words, her embrace, they'd usually do far more than a decent dose of wolfsbane ever has. But when she was ill, she was less able to do that. And one month, when she was bed-ridden, I got angry. My father had punished my brother, and the way he'd hurt him – it just triggered something in me. So I raged at my father. I went at him with my fists first, hitting and punching, and then I was performing accidental magic. At one point, fire even burst from my fingertips. Salazar only knows what would have happened if I'd had a wand. It took him – and me – by surprise. He ended up hurt, but not seriously.

"My father, wanting revenge and ultimate control, used it against me. He convinced my mother that I was wild, unmanageable, dangerous . She ordinarily wouldn't have been so taken in, but her mind was becoming weak by that point. He suggested a solution: for me to make an Unbreakable Vow. That I would never attempt to hurt my father ever again, by Muggle or magical means, that I would never raise my wand or my fists against him. Basically, I would never be able to defend myself against him. And – and that I would have to call Nott Manor my home until my father died. I would always have to live with him when not at Hogwarts. And that I would keep to this vow even after my mother's death."

Theo's voice had become more bitter as he spoke. He closed his eyes, shaking his head as if wanting to rid himself of the knowledge he was inparting. "Effectively, making me a prisoner, with my father an all-powerful guard. My mum agreed because, well, she was confused, not really thinking straight. She thought it would be the best for me. She was...she was great, my mum, always saw the best in people...but sometimes that blinded her to their faults, too."

Sorrow had risen in Parvati as Theo's tale had progressed. "But that was – that was so manipulative!" she exclaimed indignantly. "How did it work? Who bonded you?"

"I made the vow with my mother and my father bonded us. She – she said something about how it would give her peace of mind..." Through the gloom, Parvati saw that Theo's features were twisted into a tortured expression. "And I knew she was dying...I – I couldn't refuse her."

"And you were nine . Of course you couldn't refuse it! But does the vow still work if you were so young, and couldn't have really consented?" Parvati wished she knew more about Unbreakable Vows, but as they had been hard to test out, infamously secretive and somewhat rare, the research on them was sparse.

Theo gave a half-shrug and a rueful smile. "I haven't really wanted to find out...as shit as life has sometimes been, I've never wanted to purposely end it.."

"No…" Parvati instinctively put her arm around Theo and drew him to her. She would never want him to risk testing the Vow's magic either. "So, you can never stand up to your father? Never defend yourself? He has complete control over you?"

"Yep. He had wanted me to vow to always be loyal to pureblood supremacy, to never stand against it, but my mother seemed to find some lucidity at that point, said that I should be able to form my own beliefs. I think she genuinely thought that the vow I did make would give me an incentive to control myself, and hence protect me, and those around me. I think she did it because, in her confused state, she thought it was a way of keeping me safe."

"Well...I'm so glad you didn't end up making a vow about not ever betraying the pureblood cause or anything..." Parvati mused, kissing Theo tenderly on his forehead.

"Me too," Theo murmured, fiddling absentmindedly with a loose thread on Parvati's skirt. "But my father's so narcissistic, I don't think he's ever seriously considered his son would ever be a blood traitor…. That would have meant I'd never have known you. Not like I know you now. And I don't know what would've become of me if you hadn't come along, locking us in a bloody cupboard together."

"I've always meant to ask you," Parvati said softly. "Why were you in detention? That evening? You're an I.S member and a Slytherin, it was – and is – pretty hard to get detention."

Theo gave a small smile. "I wasn't in detention. Not really. Snape told Slughorn I was, but it was just a ruse really, so I could practise preparing my own suppressant potion –"

"Snape knows ?"

Theo nodded. "For a while now, and he's been brewing and ensuring I get the potion – for years. But he said he was going to be away from school a lot this year, so it was important that I knew how to do it myself."

Parvati didn't know how to make sense of Snape's attitude...it almost seemed… compassionate ...but 'compassionate' did not fit with Parvati's view of her Death Eater headmaster.

"It's nearly morning," Theo remarked. "You'd better be getting back. Don't want your dorm mates to wake up to you missing."

Reluctantly, Paravti pulled herself away from the warmth of Theo's chest and they both rose and made their way towards the door.

Just before they exited, Theo paused, as if remembering something. Turning to her, he said in a low voice, "Your mate, Longbottom. They're going after his Gran. He needs to watch his back."

Neville

"Bring them in!"

It was a Dark Arts lesson and the seventh years had been told they would, once again, be practicing curses on those students that had received a detention in the last week or so.

There was shuffling from the back of the room as Blaise Zabini, Amycus' current 'helper,' brought in the victims from where they'd been waiting in the corridor outside. A murmuring rippled through the class and Neville reluctantly turned his head to watch as five students shuffled reluctantly up the aisle to the front of the room.

His heart stuttered when he saw that Hannah was one of them. He instinctively flinched, causing him to knock his ink pot with his elbow and the liquid to spill over the side. She was leading the group. Behind her were two third year Ravenclaws, who were also recent DA recruits, Anthony Goldstein and a fourth year Gryffindor Neville didn't know.

"Miss Abbott, I would have thought you'd learnt your lesson in not following orders from what happened to you mother! " Amycus exclaimed in a nauseatingly triumphant tone. "You're in detention for refusing to perform the Imperious in last week's class. Come! Here – you can be first!"

Amycus gestured for Hannah to take a place at the front of the class, whilst the rest of the group were ushered to the side of the room. Hannah's her jaw was clenched tightly but there was a calm defiance about her.

"Right, let's see. Who could do with some practice?" Amycus scanned the room and Neville instinctively lowered his eyes and slouched down in his seat, wishing he was invisible – or had taken shrinking potion, like Hannah had talked about. But it was as if his effort to hide himself had made him even more noticeable. "You! Longbottom! Yes, you definitely need to get over whatever block you have with the Cruciatus Curse! Come!"

Neville's stomach contents seemed to rise to his throat as he gingerly stood up and made his way to the front of the classroom, taking a spot facing Hannah. They all knew this routine by now: where the attacker stood, where the victim was 'placed'. The feeling of the air in the few feet that separated them, that was often heavy with apprehension, malice, guilt or remorse, depending who the attacker and victim were.

Neville stood, his eyes on a spot on the floor in front of him, painfully aware of the wand in his hand, in contrast to Hannah's lack of one.

"Mr Longbottom. Please attempt the Cruciatus Curse on Miss Abbott," Amycus requested calmly as if he'd asked for Neville to perform a simple protection charm, not one of the most feared and infamous curses known to magical kind.

Neville didn't move, his wand arm remained tense by his side, but he did wrench his eyes from the floor to look up at Hannah. She was gazing back at him and their eyes locked. Her hair fell like curtains on either side of her face and her mouth curled up into a melancholic, reassuring smile.

He knew what she was communicating with that expression: she was giving him permission to cast the curse. She was saying that she understood why he'd have to do it and would forgive him for rendering her wretched from an agonizing pain which would rip through her body.

Neville had been in this position before, of course, had been asked to perform various curses on his fellow students. And often he'd complied, sometimes even with the first years that had found their way into detention, knowing it would be worse for both of them if he didn't. But he had always refused to perform the Cruciatus Curse.

Having lived with the consequences of the curse nearly all his life, knowing the invisible but devastating scars it could render, Neville had sworn to himself that he would never use it on anyone. And so he hadn't, much to Amycus' displeasure. It had meant he'd been a victim of it more often than his peers, and it was something that was starting to mark him out from everyone else.

Now, facing Hannah, refusing to perform the curse yet another time was one of the easiest decisions he'd had to make. The thought of deliberately causing Hannah pain was so unthinkable to him it was almost laughable.

He looked into the hazel of Hannah's eyes and it was as if Amycus, the other students and the classroom, faded away. All he was aware of was her, and how she made him feel: safe, accepted, understood. That time on the Astronomy Tower was just one time out of many when she had made him feel such a way. Each time he was close to her, it was like he was coming home – to somewhere comforting and secure and constant.

But there was something else he was feeling too: an urgent, powerful desire to reach out and touch her. He'd felt it before, but hadn't really acknowledged it until now. Not truly, not properly. He wanted to feel what it would be like to run his fingers through her hair, if her skin was really as smooth as it looked, what she might taste like if he–

Then, the realisation hit him with the force of a stunning spell: was this what love was? He knew he'd liked Hannah for, well, it had seemed like forever, but was this powerful connection, this want to be near her, the unique way she made him feel – was this love ? Neville felt something unusual rise in him, a kind of swelling of happiness, at the realisation that he might be feeling this thing . Well, maybe love was a bit extreme...maybe….but he certainly liked her, liked her a lot . Then the happiness grew into something else, something a part of his mind knew was quite dangerous, given the circumstances: a feeling of invincibility.

Without quite knowing what he was doing, Neville took a step towards Hannah. He noticed her flinch slightly, no doubt preparing for the curse, but instead of raising his wand, he reached out, cupped her jaw in his hand, bent down and pressed his lips to hers in a kiss.

In that moment, there was only Hannah: the feel of her skin against his hand and the taste of her on his lips. He realised, to his delight, that she was pressing her lips back to his, but then–

"Impedimenta!"

Neville found he'd been lifted from the floor and was flying through the air before landing on his back with a painful thump a few feet from where Hannah remained standing.

He was vaguely aware of the sounds of clapping and a smattering of cheering from some of the students in the room, but then he noticed that Amycus' face was contorted in fury.

"What," the teacher spat out, "was that display?"

"I'm not doing it," Neville murmured, somewhat unnecessarily.

"Sectumsempra!" Amycus flicked his wand violently at Neville.

Neville's body was wrenched in pain, although it was a different kind from the Cruciatus Curse. Whereas the latter felt all-consuming, as if all your tissues, bones, nerves were on fire, Neville now felt sharp, localised pains in various areas of his body.

Then the blood appeared.

It poured through his school shirt, deep gashes in his legs became apparent as his trousers turned crimson, and he blinked as something warm and thick dripped down his forehead and into his right eye. He brushed it away and noticed that his hand was smeared in red. He felt it everywhere – down his cheek, his neck, in his shoes – the warm trickle of the red liquid that gave him life bleeding out of him.

His heart clenched as his gaze alighted on Hannah's face. She looked shocked and panicked. He attempted to rise from the floor, in an attempt to reassure her, but the room suddenly span dizzyingly so he lay back down, and was vaguely aware of the screech of Amycus' voice.

"Take him away – get him out of my sight – you do it, Abbott. I don't want to see anymore of either of you today! Just go! But not to the hospital wing, he doesn't deserve the attention of Pomfrey!"

Neville remembered the next hour or so in fragments. He was vaguely aware of his body becoming lighter, in what he thought must be a part-levitation charm of some sort, and of firm but gentle hands supporting him down the aisle of the classroom.

Then there was a blur of Hogwarts corridors, and staircases, and comforting murmurings in his ear, interspersed with moments of blackness. He remembered looking down at himself, noticing his clothes were saturated in blood… then he was being lowered down on cushions – familiar cushions, in a place that felt safe – they were in the Room of Requirement.

He realised he was seeping blood, that it was soaking into the cushions under and around him. He wondered how one person could have so much blood in them…there would be nothing left soon, surely, he thought… Is this how people bled to death? He imagined himself shrivelling up like a dried prune… but he couldn't die now, because Hannah was here with him, her face was looming over him, etched in anxiety, and he needed to tell her something, something important he'd just worked out...what was it? Oh yes, he'd realised he might love her, that was it, that's what he needed to tell her, before he died, he had to tell Hannah he loved her...

Her cheeks were damp – why were they damp? Was she crying? Why would she be crying? He needed to help, he needed to make her feel better… maybe he could kiss her tears away… The thought of her being upset caused Neville to hurt, even though he was hurting so much already...

She was frowning now with a look of fierce concentration, staring down at his chest, her wand in her hand. To his surprise, he realised that his shirt was open and he was no longer wearing his trousers, and felt a flood of embarrassment that he was so naked in front of Hannah, although it wasn't like she could really see him because there was so much blood everywhere…

Hannah started murmuring an incantation. It was really rather beautiful, her voice sounded like she was singing. He wanted to tell her how lovely it was…and there was something else that he needed to tell her, wasn't there? He hoped he could remember it because it felt like the most important knowledge he'd come across…

But Merlin, everything hurt so much, it made his head hazy and stomach sick and he couldn't form any words, had no idea how to go about the mechanisms of speaking…

But then something was happening: a delicious, soothing sensation rolled over his body, as if he'd had a thousand daggers buried in it and someone had taken them out and sealed all the wounds. It was such a relief...maybe he could sleep now...yes, sleep sounded like a really good idea...and he was consumed by a deep blackness.

Neville blinked his eyes open, his heart stuttering in alarm and his hand instinctively grappling for his wand, not knowing where he was.

"It's okay," a soft voice said, and Hannah's face appeared, taking up all of his vision. He immediately felt calmer, his body relaxing. "You've been asleep for a couple of hours. Amycus – he cursed you with Septumsempra. I brought you here – to the ROR."

Neville glanced around as memories flooded back to him of how he came to be in the Room of Requirement. The place was still empty except for the two of them. He looked down at himself: he was dressed again, albeit somewhat haphazardly, and his clothes were now stained the colour of rust.

"I – I tried to clean them," Hannah explained apologetically. "But the blood wouldn't come out properly."

Neville remembered Hannah's beautiful, singsong incantation and the relieving feel of his wounds healing. "You – helped me. Healed me. Thank you."

He attempted to sit up but felt dizzyingly light headed again, and automatically slumped back down.

"Don't try and get up... I performed some healing charms that Padma taught us. They've seemed to work but – you've lost so much blood, Neville," Hannah frowned anxiously. "Terry came in here a while ago, between his lessons. He said he and Michael should be able to brew a blood replenishing potion by this evening, but they need some ingredients from Slughorn's private stores…"

"Right, well, there's no need for that," Neville said, although he wasn't sure how convinced he was of what he was saying. "I'm sure I'll be alright without the potion…just need to rest…shouldn't you be in lessons?"

Hannah shook her head dismissively. "It's just Herbology. Sprout will let me off. You should keep lying down, so your legs are above your heart…" Neville nodded, placating Hannah, not wanting to upset her by being a bad patient. "Can I look at the wounds?" she asked tentatively.

Neville suddenly felt rather embarrassed, then realised how ridiculous that was, considering Hannah had already seen him practically naked. He gingerly opened his shirt and they both looked down at where three deep, red diagonal gashes marred his chest. They still looked like open wounds but were not bleeding, at least.

As Hannah tenderly ran her fingers along the edges of Neville's wounds, they both followed her movements with their eyes. Neville's nerves tingled delightfully at her touch.

"They should heal properly with a bit of time... that was a powerful curse Amycus cast," she said gravely.

Once she appeared satisfied with her assessment, she shifted and moved so she was lying down next to him. Neville noticed how Hannah's hair settled around the cushions by her head, and he wished there was a window in the room, because he loved how Hannah's hair shimmered when the sun hit it. And just as he was thought it, a ray of light beamed across the room and landed where they lay. They both looked around to see that a window had formed, high up on one of the walls of the room.

"Nice touch," Hannah commented dryly, smiling gently.

Dust motes danced in the new beam of light. Neville didn't think he'd been in the Room of Requirement with just one other person, and he was struck by how quiet and still it was.

Hannah's eyes flicked up to his, and his heart beat faster as he felt himself get lost in the liquid amber of her eyes. They lay together in silence, their bodies close but not touching, for several moments.

"Why did you do it, Neville?" Hannah asked eventually, with gentle curiously, and Neville assumed she was talking about his ridiculous, reckless attempt to kiss her. "Out of all the things you could have done, that – that was the thing that would have wound Amycus up the most…"

Love. Love possessed me, the words sprang to Neville's mind as he remembered with a jolt the realisation he'd come to as he'd stood facing Hannah in the Dark Arts classroom. But, knowing how ridiculous that sounded, Neville bit back the words. He'd messed up – again – putting them both in danger, not to mention he'd probably really embarrassed Hannah, the way he had lunged forward and kissed her in front of the whole class.

"I don't know," he mumbled. "Just imagining you in that much pain made me realise how...how awful that would be and I...it just happened...I'm sorry."

He knew it was an inadequate explanation, but he'd never been good with words. Hannah's eyes burrowed into his, as if trying to find something there.

"And there I was, thinking you might never make a move," she said, her face breaking into a grin and humour dancing in her eyes.

And Neville remembered, with hope rising in him, how, before he had been ripped backwards from her, Hannah had started to kiss him back. He lay, rendered immoveable with anticipation and hope, as Hannah leaned towards him and pressed her lips to his.

He kissed her back, of course, and there was no one to fling them apart with an Impedimenta Curse this time, so the kiss deepened and Neville surrendered to it, let it consume him - the touch Hannah's lips, the taste of her, the summer scent of her hair...

Sometime later, Neville became precariously lighted-headed again, so he laid back on the cushions, and they started to talk.

"I know you were in the DA before, in fifth year, but this year you've seemed so much more…" Neville faltered, trying to find the right word. "Determined. Ginny told me about her first Muggle Studies lesson – how you questioned Alecto."

Hannah smiled sadly and shrugged. "That wasn't much."

"Yes, it was," Neville objected. "Of course it was. It gives people hope when we stand up to them. And that's what you did. It's like you came back to Hogwarts ready to fight."

There was a pause as Hannah seemed to be thinking through what Neville had said.

"I suppose I did. When my mother was killed, I – I had to stay at home to look after my younger sister, Eloise. She should be coming to Hogwarts next year, she turned eleven over the Easter holidays. I'd been telling her about Hogwarts for years. She'd got so excited about it. Until this year," Hannah's voice hardened. "I'm not having her come to the Carrows' Hogwarts. When I came back this year, I was determined to make Hogwarts the school I used to love, and if that ultimately means having You-Know-Who defeated, then that's what I'm gonna try and help do."

Neville paused, taking in all Hannah had said.

"Last year must have been a shit year for you," Neville reflected, cringing inwardly at what an understatement he'd just uttered, and instinctively reached out, squeezing her hand in his.

"Yeah..." she agreed. "But I know I'm not the only one to not have both their parents around."

Neville felt the softness of Hannahs' palm as he interlocked his fingers with hers. She opened her mouth to speak before closing it again, as if deciding something. Alarmingly, tears started to glisten in her eyes, and finally she spoke.

"It was my father, Neville," Hannah's voice was shaking.

"What?" Neville asked, confused. "What was your father?"

"Who killed my mother," Hannah explained. Neville wasn't sure if he'd heard right. He understood the words but their meaning just didn't – couldn't – make sense, "It was my father. My father killed her."

A/N:

Thanks to Rachael and IKEAwhatyoudidthere for their alpha and beta help!
As ever, your faves, reviews and thoughts are cherished and treasured.