NOTES : I am writing fanfiction as a way to spend some time in a world which has been with me for years, but also as an literary exercice. It is excellent practice, as life has unfortunately separated me from literature for too long. I am starting with short stories as a first step. Every journey…
English is my second language, so I hope you will forgive any mistakes or clumsy tour de phrase. Nonetheless, if you feel so inclined, I would deeply value any feedback you have, should it be on structure, style or narrative. Do not hesitate to be critical if needed. If you choose to spend some time to tell me what you thought, I would very much appreciate it.
I hope you will enjoy reading this story as much as I did writing it.
~oOo~
Neville has a secret. Time and again, he doubted. Convinced himself he was wrong. Misguided. Deluded.
He told himself the dullness of days was making him see things. Even as a very young boy, he already had his head in the clouds, dreaming up imaginary companions and forgetting the world around him until his grandmother pulled him out with a severe word. Some years later, he found refuge from the harshness of school in narratives he made up, long, never-ending tales of adolescent love and easy friendships.
They stopped as the war came and took their heroes with her. The stories took years to come back to him.
The first time, the unfinished plot of a novel teased him as he went to sleep. Months later, a glance from the handsome shop assistant at Noltie's Botanical Novelties made him feel wanted and for days surprises encounters and ardent kisses filled up his mind.
It is easier to dream these days, and he cherishes these stolen moments of infinite possibility, during slow classes or solitary breakfasts. It has become a running joke of Hermione's. "With whom are you riding into the sunset this time ?", she asks when she catches him lost to his thoughts, with an underlying tone of concern. Wish fulfillment, she called it once. He doesn't mind. He finds it makes the days lighter.
Lately, a new story has started. A love story, of course. It is always a love story. And this time, he found other heros than himself. It seemed ludicrous at first, but Neville is certain. The signs are all there, even if only he seems to see them.
Severus has fallen in love with Hermione.
It is hidden deeply behind layers of professionalism and restraint. But it is there. In the shivers on his hands, like the breeze on heavy summer nights, in gestures too cautious, in the smallest of things.
~oOo~
Every Monday, after dinner, in the Staff Room, Neville marks the papers he collected earlier from his Third Years. Teachers come and go to have a cup of tea before the night. She comes in with issues from scientific journals. Severus always has a stack of papers with him. He never marks them. They speak softly, and their voices get lost in the low hum of the fire.
~oOo~
Once, she laughed and her hand lingered a few seconds on his forearm. He turned his head away.
~oOo~
When the Ministry tried to enforce mandatory Muggle studies for Slytherin House only, Hermione got angry. She stood up in front of the faculty and bureaucrats and defended her young pupils, flushed with a just outrage. Severus had stayed silent in the middle of the shouting voices, and watched only her.
~oOo~
In Neville's greenhouses, there is a Potions garden. Since a house elf named Maddy was half-strangled by a young Venomous Tentacula, the Elves don't tend to it anymore. Severus comes to care for the plants instead. He says it is for research purposes.
~oOo~
At Christmas, he helped her decorate the Great Hall. "I am just here to limit the damage you will undoubtedly cause to aesthetics and general good taste, Granger."
~oOo~
An evening at dinner, a fight broke out when Peter Morgan, a Sixth Year Gryffindor who has just been rejected by his classmate called her a whore. In a matter of seconds, insults burst out and hexes started flying. Hermione ran towards her students.
"Morgan, Ashton, stop at once ! Expelliarmus !"
Enraged at seeing his wand escape him, Peter yelled.
"You bitch ! Fuck you ! Fuck you !"
Magic burst from him in a ball of heat, throwing Hermione against the wall in a deafening explosion. She fell on the floor, sparks fluttering over her. Severus leaped from his seat and sprinted through the Hall, falling on his knees at her side. A flow of spells escaped him, covering her body with incandescent light. Around them, a heavy silence had fallen.
"Longbottom… get Poppy."
His voice trembled.
"I can't move her, I can't do anything. She's very injured."
Neville conjured a Patronus who took off towards the Hospital Wing while the Headmistress quickly gathered the crowd of excitable students away. Peter Morgan, who has stayed frozen, went to follow them. His cloak brushed against Hermione, and something in the Potions Master seemed to snap. Lunging towards him, he grabbed his collar and pinned him against the wall.
"Where do you think you are going ?"
"Professor… I…"
Severus's words shook with fury.
"You don't talk, you don't move, you don't do anything. I will make you regret what you've just done."
"I'm sorry… I don't know what happened…"
"Silence !"
A yelp escaped Morgan.
"You pathetic..."
"Severus !", exclaimed the Headmistress. "You forget yourself ! Release him. Morgan, go back to your House, we will deal with you later."
Peter Morgan fled, tears streaming down his face.
"The boy deserve to be punished ! What the fuck do you think you're doing, letting him go ?"
"Get a hold of yourself", she said sternly, "now is not the time to discuss this. We have a more urgent matter."
Severus fell silent as Madam Pomfrey hasted through the Hall and examined Hermione. A litany of charms exited her lips in a whisper, bright colours appearing and dissolving in the air. Then she stood up, worry on her face.
"Call the Healers, Minerva. She needs to be taken to St. Mungo's. She has internal injuries I can't mend. She is losing a lot of blood."
Neville can't remember anything else but fragments of the night. The blood on the floor when the Healers levitated her body. Her hand slipping over the stretcher, reminding him of the dead women in these pre-Raphaelite paintings she had shown him. Hagrid's sniffing. The anguish in Severus' eyes.
This is when Neville knew for sure. Overtaken by distress, the man didn't hide anything at that moment. Neville had felt compelled to look away.
During the following days, Severus seemed to withdraw into himself. He came and went without talking to anyone, snapped when adressed and Gryffindor House's points fell to an abysmal level. Neville was reminded of his behaviour at the height of the Carrows' power.
Finally, after two long weeks, Professor McGonagall arrived late at dinner, holding a letter. Standing in front of the High Table, her look was enough to silence the Great Hall.
"Students and faculty, good evening. I have just received word from St. Mungo's."
Anxious whispers lingered in the air.
"I am very happy to tell you that Professor Granger is now out of danger and will not suffer long term damage from her injuries."
Happy shouts and claps erupted. Alone at the end of Gryffindor table, Peter Morgan let his head fall into his hands and started crying quietly.
"She should come back to Hogwarts in a week or two, when the Healers deem her fit enough to leave the hospital. Until then, you are to continue your Charm classes with Professor Snape and myself."
She paused to skim through the letter and added, "Apparently, she worries her absence will make you miss crucial parts of the curriculum, and she gives instructions for all her classes to go through early examinations."
Severus lowered his head, his hand muffling the incontrollable laugh escaping his lips. If Neville had been paying less attention, he would have missed it.
~oOo~
"Snape ? Do you have a moment ?"
"I am busy, as you can very obviously see."
"It won't take long."
Severus sighed and waved his hand towards the door, putting down his quill.
"I need a favour."
The quill started moving again.
"No."
"You don't even know what I want !"
"I find myself in a uncharitable mood these days."
"Do you ? Could have fooled me."
Severus shot daggers at him.
"Get to the point, Longbottom."
"I am supposed to go to St. Mungo's this afternoon, to visit Hermione and bring her the basket and cards."
He gave a little shake to the beribboned monstrosity he was holding. Severus stopped marking.
"I am aware, and I am also quickly losing interest."
"Oh, right. Sorry. Anyway, I can't go. The Aconites have starting sprouting this morning, they are so early this year ! This is worrying actually, it has been so warm lately. I have to tend to them, otherwise they'll just shrivel and die, and…"
"Ask Minerva."
"She's at the Ministry", said Neville without missing a beat.
"Poppy then."
"I already asked her. Actually, I asked everyone", he lied. "They are all terribly sorry but they have prior engagements."
Severus stared at him.
"You asked… everyone", he said slowly.
Neville nodded.
Hold it together.
"Leave the basket, and get the hell out of my office."
~oOo~
"You marked all their essays ? You shouldn't have ! This must have taken you so much time…"
"I gave them all a T on principle."
Hermione chuckled and poured herself some tea.
"You wouldn't."
"Unfortunately, you are right", he sighed.
"Thank you, Severus", she said, so low it could hardly be heard it over the brouhaha of breakfast. "I am very grateful for your help."
For the fragment of a second, they locked eyes. Neville felt like he was intruding.
~oOo~
Lately, he has started observing Hermione. He tries to find signs, a tenderness in her voice, some turbulent manifestation of reciprocated feelings. But emotions sway on her expressive face like small waves and he can't distinguish between them. Is this smile the smile of a friend ? Which secrets does this gaze guard ?
~oOo~
There is a hidden garden on the way to the Astronomy Tower, where gardenias grow. Once a week in summer, Neville goes to water them. He likes their lack of magic, the feel of the soil, the slow rhythm of the seasons. He takes care of them all, one by one, advancing deep inside the garden, until he is swallowed by the clouds of white flowers, shadows and leaves. He lays on the grass and watches the sky come alight.
Yet tonight, as his mind wanders into the lessons of the next day, two voices break the silence.
"I'll just be a minute."
From behind the bushes, Neville sees Severus crouch to examine the flowers. Delicately, he picks some and drops them in a jar he then shrinks and puts back in his pocket.
"I'm done. Ready to go ?"
"What are these flowers ? They are lovely."
"Gardenias. They may be lovely, but these will definitely finish sliced and boiled in a potion."
"Pity. Do you think Neville would mind terribly if I picked a few of them ? They would look beautiful in my room."
I fucking would !
"I should imagine not. Although I don't see the attraction."
Hermione laughs.
"I'm aware, I have seen your rooms. Very practical."
Severus looks amused, and leans on a low wall while she arranges flowers. Neville tries not to breathe.
"How are your classes with the Slytherins ?", the man asks.
"Surprisingly pleasant, actually. Especially the sixth years class with the Gryffindors. I just wonder how long it will last."
"They feel responsible for what happened."
"They shouldn't. It was no one's fault."
Severus opens his mouth but Hermione is quicker.
"You disagree, I know."
"Obviously, I disagree. This was no involuntary magic. This was just rage and hatred, born of a wounded ego."
"He's young."
"Not that young. That little shit should have been expelled."
Hermione pauses.
"I don't think he should be defined by his worst mistake", she adds gently.
There is silence then. Their eyes meet. Neville holds his breath. Suddenly, the air seems heavy and he wishes he were not here.
"Hermione…"
His voice wanes.
"You never call me Hermione", she says.
Severus hesitates, and when he finally speaks, the words come out in a whisper.
"I find it wiser to keep some sort of formality between us."
"Why ?"
He doesn't answer. Neville sees a tremor on Hermione's face, like the leaves of his plants when the wind changes. He recognises this look of fierce resolve.
"What changed tonight ?"
Severus seems frozen, but when he finally answers, he doesn't look away.
"You break my barriers easily."
Time stands still. The flowers fall. Slowly, she moves towards him. They look at each other and it is as though the world around them has faded. She is so close, her hand raises to his cheek and his eyes shut in a shiver. He grasps the edge of the wall. Muscles tense, his body strains under some invisible battle.
"Severus… look at me…"
Painfully he opens his eyes. She raises on her toes and her body meets his, hands on shoulders, fingers fluttering alongside his skin, and she kisses him. For a few seconds he seems overcome by some violent struggle but at last he brings his hands on her waist. Her back. Neck. His fingers sink into her hair and their embrace becomes feverish.
Neville feels the heat in his cheeks. He should not be there.
With effort, they separate, breathless. Severus holds up a hand, head lowered.
"Please… stop… stop now."
She backs away, clutching at her heart.
"Forgive me…"
"No… stay… don't misunderstand me", he adds hastily. "I can't… it's difficult to find the words."
His voice is thick and low.
"Hermione, are you sure ? I… my heart can't afford any… lightness."
There is a veil of light in her eyes.
"Yes, I am sure. I am sure of you."
His willpower seems to break and he kisses her lips, her cheeks, her eyelids.
"I want you", she whispers.
He rests his forehead against hers and hold her closely. How long their embrace lasts, Neville could not say. He stays there, trying not to breathe, not to hear, not to see.
Finally, Hermione looks up with a smile. She says something in hushed tones, and Severus laughs softly.
"Very well, let's go", he adds.
They leave the garden, hands not quite touching, and Neville is alone again, heart beating wildly.
~oOo~
He tries not to think about that night, he buries it deeply. Hermione told him once of an amateur violinist who stole a priceless Stradivarius, and never played it. He feels like this petty thief, overwhelmed by his stolen treasure.
He attempts not to see the looks they share sometimes during meetings, to hear their ever professional conversations at the High Table, to notice their smiles.
He tries to concentrate on his own life.
"Alexander."
"What ?"
"That shop assistant from the plant shop you told me about".
Hermione leans over the dinner table, beaming.
"His name is Alexander. I found out from a friend. Apparently, he is also single."
She waggles her eyebrows suggestively. Neville smiles.
Yes, maybe he will go. He needs a new story. One of his own. This one is not his anymore.
~ THE END ~