I need to be bold

Need to jump in the cold water

Need to grow older with a girl like you

Finally see you are naturally

The one to make it so easy

When you show me the truth

Yeah yeah, I'd rather be with you

Say you want the same thing too

"I'd Rather Be With You" — Joshua Radin

The week dragged by, time seeming to move almost backward while Hermione waited for the weekend to come on. Was Ginny right, and she was reading something more into Luna and Neville than there actually was? While she did tend to overthink things, she rarely came to false conclusions based on the information she saw.

Friday at lunch, there was a quiet knock on her office door. She wouldn't have heard it if the office had been busier, but with everyone else out for lunch she could hear the knock clearly.

"Yes? Come in," she called, straightening up in her chair and pulling her eyes from her research.

"Hiya," Ginny said, slipping into her office. "Are you coming out tonight?"

Hermione glanced at the calendar on her desk, checking to see what time her last meeting of the day was scheduled for. "Who all is going? Leaky as usual?"

"Where else do we ever go," Ginny laughed, sitting falling into the chair in front of Hermione's desk. "The usual lot, I'm sure. Harry, of course. Ron and Lav, Seamus and Dean. I'm heading out to talk to Luna and Neville when I leave here and see what they're up to tonight. Well, Luna, and Neville. Not Luna-and-Neville, if that makes you feel better."

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ginny's antics, trying not to blush. She'd tried to take Ginny's attitude to heart and not focus as much on the thought of Luna and Neville together (her long, blonde hair falling over his chest as she—) and instead to just look forward to brunch on Saturday, and whatever it was that Neville kept saying he wanted to talk about.

"Oh all right, I'll come out. But I have a meeting until 6:00, so I'll be a little bit late. And with Brunch tomorrow, I don't think I'll stay out later than a couple of drinks."

Ginny grinned, and hopped up off of the chair. "I'm incredibly glad to hear it. I'll run off to talk to Luna. And Neville. After I hear back from them, I'll pop by yours and leave some clothes for you on the bed. Do not come out without changing. You look lovely, as always, but I think Mr. Longbottom will want to give you a healthy portion of his long—"

"Ginny!" Hermione cried, her cheeks flushed. "Enough. I promise I'll go home and change. Anything else?"

Ginned smirked and waggled her fingers in a causal wave, slipping out of the door as quickly as she'd slid in. Hermione thought she'd have another day to prepare for seeing Neville again— but it might not be a bad idea to get it out of her system again before brunch. That way, if there did seem to be some sort of… something… between Neville and Luna she'd have a night to go home, get sloshed on her own, and knock back a hangover potion from the safety of her own bathroom before having to put on a happy face for brunch.

As her coworkers began to filter back into the office, Hermione found herself losing focus as her mind started to wander.

How would she manage to sit at brunch for a few hours with Neville, Augusta, and all of their friends if this didn't go the way that she wanted it to? What if he had noticed the way that she'd been staring at him like an absolute troll last week and wanted her to back off?

Merlin. She felt ridiculous. This was Neville. There wasn't a mean bone in his body, and even if he wanted to let her down easy and ask her to back down, he certainly wouldn't be rude about it. She could still remember the look on his face when she'd had to tell him that Viktor had already asked her to the Yule Ball back in fourth year.

"Herm-own-inny?"

She looked up from the sheaths of parchment strewn across her table in her favorite corner of the library at the sound of something that sounded something tangential to her name. "Viktor?"

"Hallo, Herm-own-inny. How haff you been?" he asked her, clasping his hands behind his band and standing almost at attention behind the chair across from her own. He made no moves to take a seat, and seemed more comfortable standing than he would sitting.

If there was anyone she would've expected to come up to her in the library, it wouldn't have been Viktor Krum. Not that she was one of the girls who thought there's-no-way-the-famous-Krum-would-speak-to-me, but that she hadn't seen him choose to talk to anyone at all, often choosing to stand quietly at the periphery of a group of tagalongs.

"I've been very well, thank you. How are you finding Scotland? Is it to your liking?" she didn't follow quidditch and didn't know what to say to him besides banal small talk.

"Scotland is varmer zan Doormstrank at zis time of ze year. Far zarmer. But I haff a question for you," he said, eyebrows knitting together and looking even more serious than usual, if such a thing were possible. He shifted slightly, unthawing a bit to lightly tug at the collar of his thick woolen uniform. Hermione's favored table was close to one of the large fireplaces in the library, and the temperature by her table was noticeably warmer than most parts of the castle. In this moment, Krum looked even more nervous than he had through her omnoculars before the World Cup that summer.

"Do you haff a date to ze Yule Ball?" he asked her, slightly more gruffly than she would have expected with a question like that. He wasn't… there was no way…

"Er, no, I don't," she told him, sitting back in her chair to look at him more carefully. "Do you?"

"No. Not yet. You are ze only girl in zis school or zat French one zat does not fall ofer me. Vill you go to ze Ball vith me?" he asked, an uncharacteristic glint of nervous sweat on his brow. Surely, there was no way that Viktor Krum was this nervous being around her? Sure, she didn't spend her time tracking his every movement and planning the actions of the Krum Klub, but that didn't quite explain why he was asking her. He'd sat at this very same table with her a time or two studying in his usual stoic silence, and frequently graced her with a nod when they crossed paths on the grounds or in the Great Hall. But was that really enough to explain his apparently sudden interest in her.

He gazed at her with his dark eyes, and gently tilted his head to the side, seemingly able to hear the thoughts that raced through her mind. In an uncharacteristically talkative moment, he elaborated his request, a soft look taking over his features.

"You are very kind. Very nice. Very smart also. You do not treat me like Quidditch star, only like another student. You make me feel like normal man. And you are very beautiful. I vould like to feel like normal man with beautiful girl and not champion for vone night. Or champion who earned beautiful girl. Vat do you zink?"

"My best friend is Harry Potter, and he's the most normal boy I know. At this point, I think I'd have a hard time seeing anyone short of Merlin himself as anything besides a normal man. Viktor, I'd be honored to go to the Yule Ball with you," she said, smiling softly back at him.

The smile on his face widened, and dimples that she never would've guessed he'd had emerged on his cheeks. For the first time, she truly understood all the furor over Viktor Krum. However, it wasn't the stoic, burly Bulgarian front that he put on that appealed to her. But this, this softer, smiling, eager version of him looked younger, kinder, and far more open.

He unclasped his hands, and with a slight, wandless flourish presented her with a soft, pink rose. "Ze rose is ze national flower ov Bulgaria. It is symbol ov vriendship, and I vould like to call you my vriend."

No one had ever given her a flower before. Certainly not Ron, or Harry. While Harry reminded her of the brother she'd never had, she'd always hoped that there might be something more with Ron. That was looking less and less likely lately, however, and here was a handsome, foreign, older boy who sought her out to ask her to be his date to the ball.

"I would love to be your friend, and your date to the ball, Viktor," she stood up from her chair, walking around the table to take the rose from him. When she took the flower from him with her right hand, he gently look her left hand in his to press a light kiss to her knuckles.

"Zhank you. I haff vone more question for you," he said, lightly brushing his thumb across her knuckles and sending a light flock of butterflies to take off in her stomach.

"Of course," she answered, looking into his eyes. Up close, she could see that his eyes were a rich, chocolate color— not nearly as dark or one dimensional as they looked when he would knit his brows together and try to look intimidating.

"Help me vith your name. I vould like to haff it right," he said, thumb still gliding over her knuckles.

Her stomach flipped again, and she struggled to comprehend what he was saying, as lost as she was in his eyes in that moment. Part of her was aware of how ridiculous she was being— just a few minutes ago he was 'just' Viktor Krum, and now she felt as silly as any of the other girls who talked about him in the hallways.

"Hermione… Her-my-oh-nee."

"Hair-my-ohnny?" he asked, his voice somehow even softer and lower than before. She tried not to let her eyelashes flutter at the way that his voice felt.

"Yes, that's lovely," she whispered, trying to get herself under control.

"Zhank you, Hairmyohnny. Haff a good evening," he whispered, pressing another soft kiss to her knuckles before turning and leaving the table.

She sank back down onto her chair, lightly running a fingertip over the petals of the flower. Lifting the flower to her nose, she took a deep breath to see if she could smell it. Typically, conjured flowers don't actually smell like flowers— and this one didn't either. Instead, it smelled like cedar, warm leather, and woodsmoke… like Viktor himself did.

She gently placed the flower on the desk beside her notes, and turned to stare out of the window. What had just happened? How had Viktor Krum managed to swoop in and make her feel like a stupid girl, when she hadn't given him any more consideration that any other person this year so far? Being friends with Harry had taught her that even "famous" men were just normal beneath it all, and on the times that he'd studied at her table or they'd crossed paths, she'd always made an effort to treat him exactly like she'd treat anyone else. And apparently, it had been the right thing to do.

"Hello, Hermione. Can I sit?" turning quickly at the sound of her name, she was surprised to see a second visitor at her table in the corner. Of everyone that she would've expected to seek out the library this late on a school night, it wouldn't have been Neville. That being said, she missed the days of early first year when they'd been able to spend more of their time together.

"Of course!" she cried, waving him toward the chair while tidying up her parchments and books to clear a space at the table, careful not to crush the rose. "How are you?"

Neville took a deep breath, and slipped one hand below the desk while the other hand ran back through his hair. He looked as if he were trembling slightly, but seemed to calm slightly when he got his hand into the pocket of his robe. "I'm alright… I have something I want to talk to you about."

"Of course! I know you've been trying to talk to me for a few days but I've been so busy trying to get everything together before break starts," she said, a slight sinking feeling in her stomach chasing away the last of her butterflies. Even as she finished her thought, she feared she already knew the answer. "What's one your mind?"

"Professor McGonagall announced last week that we're having the ball on Christmas this year. I was wondering if you'd like to go with me… I'm not a strong dancer, but I promise to pay attention when McGonagall teaches us how, and I'll try not to trod on your toes."

As he talked, her hands flew to her mouth. Oh no… This is what Neville had been trying to talk to her about all week. And she'd done a terrible job making the time to listen to him. And Neville— quiet, brave Neville— had spent all this time gathering the courage to ask her to go with him, and she'd accepted Viktor's offer only a few minutes before he found her again.

"Oh, Neville… I'd love to. Really and truly. But Viktor Krum just asked me to go with him, and I said yes. Oh, Neville. That's what you've been trying to talk to me about, isn't it?"

He nodded listlessly, and dropped his eyes down to the table, pulling his hands up to clasp them together tightly on the scarred surface of the table. While he explained all the times that he'd psyched himself up to ask her, but she had been so engrossed in her books and her friends that she hadn't been an easy person to talk to.

Leaning across the surface of the table, she gently placed her hands on top of his. He looked devastated, and it tugged at her heart in an unfamiliar and uncomfortable way to know that she was the reason for that look in his eyes. Despite everything, she had always tried to keep Neville safe… and knowing that she had done something to hurt him made her deeply uncomfortable.

"I should've been a better friend, and I should've listened better when you were trying to talk to me. I wish I'd listened to you, because I would have been honored to go to the dance with you," she told him gently.

And she meant it. Neville was more loyal than either Harry or Ron, if she was being completely honest, and his earnest joy was refreshing to be around. Despite much of the mess that she knew he had to deal with regularly, he persevered through much of it, facing his discomfort on a daily basis to keep moving forward. If Neville had asked her before Viktor, she would've said yes to him in a heartbeat.

"Thanks for saying that. It means a lot," he said, swallowing thickly, as if there were something in his throat preventing him from speaking. "I'll catch you in Potions tomorrow, yeah?"

He pulled his hands from under hers, and stood, turning quickly to try to slip from the library. Seeing him this upset, because of her, wrenched something in her.

"Neville, wait!"

He froze, and gently turned on his heel, blinking quickly and still avoiding eye contact.

"I'm not just saying that. I mean it. You're wonderful, any girl should be grateful to be on your arm all night. Do you have your eye on anyone else?"

He shook his head, still blinking quickly. It felt like a foolish question even as she asked it, but she couldn't bear to see him walk away yet this upset. But as bad as that had felt, hearing that he was planning to just go home for the holiday and skip the ball entirely felt even worse.

Even as she encouraged him to ask Ginny, part of her heart still felt like it was shearing off. How had she gone from so excited to feeling so devastated?

When she walked into the Leaky later that evening, everyone else was already there. Luna and Neville were sitting side by side, an empty chair directly across from them and between Harry and Ron. When she walked up, they were all deep in conversation, and Ginny was the first to notice her, sending her a quick thumbs up at the sight of her in the new outfit she'd left in Hermione's flat.

"When do we get to meet this new beau of yours, Luna?" Lavender asked, leaning forward to peer at Luna, looking for any sign of weakness.

"You don't need to meet him," Luna sighed, running a finger through a small pool of condensation on the tabletop. Hermione felt that twist in her stomach again, and couldn't help but feel as if it were comeuppance for Fourth Year.

"What do you mean by 'we don't need to meet him'," Harry asked, taking a long pull from his lager. "Anyone that's important to you is important to us, and we'd like to see that whoever he is deserves you."

"Here, here," Seamus and Dean cried together, clinking the rims of their glasses together.

"Well, Harry, you typically don't need to meet people that you already know," Luna said, making direct eye contact with Harry in a way that made him recoil slightly in his chair. When Luna unleashed the full force of her light blue gaze on anyone, it tended to have an overwhelming effect on the recipient of her attention.

She knew it. Ginny had made her think that she had a chance, and she'd almost managed to talk herself into thinking that something lovely would happen tomorrow at brunch. But now, she felt like her heart and her stomach were taking up residence somewhere near her toes.

"Wait, what do you mean we already know him? I don't know of anyone who just started—" Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ginny dig an elbow into her brother's side. "Oh. Well then. I can't say I exactly saw this coming."

Hermione looked up towards Ginny, trying to make eye contact. Ginny was steadfastly avoiding her eyes, and was instead staring intently somewhere towards Neville and Luna. Neville-and-Luna, indeed.

"That's putting it mildly," Dean added from somewhere to her right.

"I don't really think you're good enough for her, to be honest. I think Luna's a great girl and you just so happen to be the scum of the earth."

Hermione's head shot towards Ron, shocked and ready to defend Neville when she realized with a shock that a tenth figure had joined them at the table, standing just behind Luna.

"I would like the record to state," drawled Draco Malfoy, "That I didn't say a single word to him before he started up with that. I told you I wouldn't start anything with any of your friends, but I would like your permission to end it."

Hermione'd seen Malfoy around the ministry since the war had ended. Wizarding society wasn't large enough that she would have been able to avoid him entirely, even if she was trying to. But she had to acknowledge that he had donated quite a lot of his family's fortune to the restoration efforts after the war had ended, he'd acknowledged her presence every time they'd crossed paths, and she hadn't heard a single slur leave his mouth since she-didn't-know-when. She'd seen his name on the donor list of countless projects, and knew enough about the inner workings of the ministry to know that he wasn't exactly in a position to roam the halls calling in favors.

But if Malfoy was here as Luna's person that they'd already met, she was more than willing to be the first to extend the olive branch to him. Her heart and stomach seemed to start moving somewhere closer to where they belonged, leaving her toes alone.

"Hello, Malfoy," she said, conjuring another chair at the table.

"Good evening, Granger."

"Oi! Don't talk to her!" Ron cried, jabbing a finger first in Malfoy's direction and then Hermione's. "And don't sit there! Doesn't anyone else have something to say?"

"How's your mum doing?" Harry asked, scooting his chair over to make a little more room.

"She's quite well, thank you. I'll tell her you asked," Malfoy unbuttoned his jacket and pressed a kiss to the top of Luna's head before sitting and continuing. "I know that she wants to talk to you at some point about restoring the Black family tapestry she thinks you have."

Ron continued to look around the table at everyone else sitting there. "Does no one else have a problem with this?"

"Who's your team then?" Seamus asked, leaning forward to peer at Malfoy.

"The Wimbourne Wasps."

Seamus shrugged and finished his beer, standing up. "Fair enough. Pint? Luna?"

Luna nodded distractedly, and Malfoy tossed a couple of galleons at Seamus, who smiled before making his way towards the bar. "Cheers, mate."

"Are you still working in potions, Malfoy?" Neville asked, leaning slightly around Luna to see Malfoy more clearly. "Hermione and I have been researching fireseed bush and she found some research that seems like it might be used to treat frostbite. I think I might be having some luck getting some cuttings to grow now, and I'd like to see it go to some use."

"Fireseed? Interesting. I could look in my library and see what I come up with. Might give me something to do," Malfoy drawled, leaning back in his chair and slinging an arm over the back of Luna's chair, seemingly confident that no one was going to do anything untoward to him.

"I'll send you the research I've already prepared as well," Hermione told him, to which he nodded to acknowledge he'd heard her.

"Am I the only one," Ron continued, slightly louder than before, "that seems to realize that Draco sodding Malfoy is here?"

"We obviously see him, Ron," Ginny snarked with an eye roll. "Hello, Ferret."

"Hello, Weaslette. Thank you, Finnegan," he added, taking the beers from Seamus and handing one to Luna.

"We're really happy, Ron. And besides, it's not his fault that I ended up in his dungeon, or that Hermione was tortured in his drawing room, or even that Voldemort lived in the house for so long. If we can forgive him it really doesn't make very much sense that you can't," Luna told him, fixing him with a slightly unfocused stare that left him feeling a little unnerved.

"No, I… I suppose you're right. Sorry, Malfoy," he said sheepishly, flushing red.

"I understand your reticence, Weasley. But I think you all, out of everyone in this blasted country, should realize that Luna isn't quite as foolish as she may pretend to be. I don't think I would've had much success pulling the wool over her eyes if I'd tried to. So why don't you have some faith in your friend and save the attitude for after I've screwed up."

"I'll drink to that," Luna said, raising her glass vaguely toward the other people sitting at the table.

After that, the night went quickly and smoothly. Malfoy managed to hold civil conversations with most everyone at the table, although Ron didn't seem to mind too much that he wasn't one of them.

As the night went on, Hermione continually found her eyes drifting towards Neville's. The addition of Draco and his chair had left him no longer directly across from her but slightly off to the side, and as she spoke with those around her she found herself darting quick glances toward him.

He wasn't always looking back at her, which allowed her to take in the tightness of his sweater over his chest, the pink of his lips, the flush on his cheeks when he laughed, which grew slightly darker the more he drank.

The glint of his hazel eyes in the light of the bar when he was looking back at her caused her heart to race. The weight of his look seemed to linger on her with a heat that had her flushing under his gaze.

So Ginny had been right. It wasn't Luna that had pulled Neville back from the continent. For the first time since he'd come back, she was feeling more hope than apprehension. Every time she caught his eyes wandering towards hers, with every joke of hers that he laughed at, every pint that he pushed across the worn table towards her... she let herself hope. Brunch the next morning might not be the exercise in futility that she had convinced herself it would be.

She faintly heard a clock chime, and realized that it was half 11. If she had any chance of getting home and getting ready for brunch the next morning, as well as whatever Neville had planned for before, she'd need to get going. She made her goodbyes, and stood from the table to leave. Like the week before, Neville stood when she did and quickly walked around the table to hold her coat open for her to shrug into.

"Can I walk you to the apparition point?" he asked, leaning close to speak into her ear in the loud bar. Over his shoulder, she could see Ginny wiggling her eyebrows at her from her seat.

"I'd like that," she said, taking a deep breath.

"After you," he replied, gesturing toward the door.

Unfortunately, the apparition point outside of the Leaky Cauldron wasn't far from the door. But as they walked outside, Neville gently rested one of his large, warm hands on her lower back, steering her down the street toward the point.

"Are you still able to come over tomorrow before everyone else arrives? I want to get a chance to talk to you alone before everyone else shows up."

She nodded, looking up at him, feeling a bit tongue tied and nervous around him. "Of course. Is there anything that I can bring?"

Neville shook his head, and gently pulled her to his chest in a light hug. When he spoke, she could feel his voice rumbling through his chest and across her skin. "Absolutely not. Gran is over the moon to host. Just bring yourself. Now go home, and get some rest. I'll see you in the morning, love."

He gently pulled away, and looked at her, seeming to hesitate before he swept her into his arms again, clutching her tighter to his chest as he spun them around.

"What-" she started to ask with a laugh.

He gave her another tight squeeze before releasing her and taking a step backwards, a wide smile on his face. "I've just missed you, is all. Til tomorrow," he said, watching her as he started to walk backwards toward the Leaky.

She took a deep breath to calm her racing heart before apparating home.

Destination, Determination, Deliberation.