Being part of Gryffindor House was not always as easy as it appeared to be. Even more so when your parents had been legendary Gryffindor's, heralded for their bravery and courageous nature. But sitting in the Great Hall as McGonagall called the room to silence, Neville had never felt quite so stronger a sense of rightness, of belonging, to his house as he did then.
The Headmistress ascended the podium with utmost grace, the room at her utter attention.
"Good evening, students. There is a most exciting matter that I wish to bring to your attention. At Hogwarts, it is both our privilege and our pride to prepare you as much as we can for your life one you leave our school. However, we can not teach you everything, but the collective genius and ingenuity of some of our seventh and eight year students in particular has come up with a wonderful idea. So, I'd like to give a warm round of applause to Mr Longbottom, Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy, Miss Lovegood and Miss Weasley for bringing this about."
There was cheers and claps from every table, albeit sparse from the Slytherin table. Hannah waved at him energetically and Neville felt his cheeks flame. Why wasn't there a spell to stop you blushing? He'd have to ask Hermione about it later.
"We have come up with the Wizarding World Work Experience programme, or more manageably known as the WWWE, where our students in their final year at Hogwarts will spend five weeks at a placement of their own choosing in order to earn a greater understanding and knowledge of the Wizarding work industry and any future career they may have in mind. Lists of ideas for such placements will be out by the end of the week, but if you have any ideas that are not on the list, please speak to your Head of House, our aforementioned experts or myself for guidance. The deadline for all applications is February and placemats will be accepted and started before easter. While this is not mandatory, I think it is a wonderful opportunity you should all exploit to the fullest. And, for further clarification, N.E.W.T.S will still take place and you will still have to revise for them. That is all."
Information conveyed, McGonagall returned to her seat at the table, precising over the excited chatter that burts like Devil's Snare pod across the room.
At the end of dinner, Neville was at the back of the crowd, waiting for the routine bottle neck to die down when Hannah tapped him on the shoulder.
"Hi, Neville," she said cheerily, tucking her hair behind her ears. "I... um... I just wanted to say that I think it's really great, this whole WWWE thing. I've never really had a clue what I wanted to do after I left Hogwarts and with the War and all it wasn't something I gave much thought, since it was likely that I might not live to see it. So, I think it's a real great opportunity and everything."
Neville smiled, hoping that it appeared reassuring. "I know how you feel, Hannah. I've never been great at magic, and I didn't really know what I wanted to do until recently. And I'm sure, that whatever you choose, you'll be great at it."
"Thanks, that's so sweet of you to say. So, I guess you'll be working with Professor Sprout then?" Hannah asked him.
"How did you know?" he asked, utterly dumbfounded.
She shook her head. "It's obvious that you're great with plants, Neville, you got some of the best grades in our class. You have a natural aptitude for Herbology."
"Jee, thanks Hannah."
Hannah turned to go, but Neville tapped her lightly on the arm. "Hi, me again," he said. "Listen, would you like to have lunch or something? With me, that is? We can talk about placements and plants or whatever you want to talk about?" he asked in a rush.
Neville tensed, expecting a rejection.
He definitely didn't expect, "Yeah, sure, I'd love to. How does Saturday sound?"
Neville tried to remember how to breathe. "Yes. Yes, Saturday's great. Excellent. See you then." He tried to back away coolly but almost tripped over his laces so he gave a little wave and made his way to the Gryffindor Common Room, practically floating.
At his euphoric state, Ginny raised a brow. "Hey, Nev, did someone spike your pumpkin juice? Again?"
Neville smiled, but then reality set in. "Ginny, I need your help. I've got a date with a witch I really like and I am freaking out!"
Today was the day. No more waiting, no more putting it off, no more random excuses at the last moment. Today was the day, Draco was going to tell her how he felt. Even if she didn't feel the same, even if she regretted it, he couldn't hold it back any longer.
Today was the day. No more holding her tongue, no more denying how she really felt, no more wanting to hold his hand and kiss him and just be with him without reigning herself in.
She was going to lay all her cards on the table. Today.
And then he stopped...
And then she stopped...
And he realized that he loved her.
And she realized that she couldn't tell him.
He didn't know how he hadn't realized it before, how he'd written off what they had as mere friendship, then only a passing fancy, a simple attraction, something easily managed. He loved her, and it filled every part of him, every atom touched by darkness, once filled with hatred and the bitter spite of a pathetic man.
But that had all changed. And he might not have been a perfect man, might not have been worthy of the brilliance and compassion and light that was Hermione Jean Granger, but he'd try to, no mater what it took.
He'd try to be worthy of her.
It wasn't because she didn't want to, it wasn't because she didn't care about him, or the past that sat between them, it was because she knew, if she started down this road with him, that would be it.
He would be her one and done. He'd be all she ever needed.
And it terrified her. And what if they broke up, how would she be able to cope with that, with not only losing him as her's, but as her best friend. Would it be like with Ron, unable to even be within twenty feet of each other. What about Lucius? And Narcissa?He loved his mother, dearly, and she did as well. And she also knew, even if he wouldn't or couldn't admit it to himself, he still felt something for his father. What kind of person would she be, if she broke up a family, another family, if she counted her parents and the life she'd ruined for them in Australia? Or even the Weasley's, for Ron might have come around if she hadn't been in the picture.
Maybe, maybe she just wasn't meant for a relationship, wasn't meant for anything outside of what people expected her to be. And, really, at the end of the day, how much could Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Prince, who was smart and funny and charming and could make her smile like no one else, really care about her?
Yes, it was better if she stopped this before it could begin. They were better off staying friends, keeping things simple, uncomplicated.
Even if it wasn't what she really wanted. But this wasn't about want, it was about doing the right thing, the honourable thing. She wouldn't take a sledgehammer to all that Draco had started to rebuild just because she had feelings for him.
Hermione squared her shoulders, taking out her wand. "Accio Binder 12," she called, and after a moment, a thick file flew into her hand, the plastic seams almost bursting at the weight of all the parchment she'd stuffed into it. Hermione made her way to the Room of Requirement, turning her thoughts to practicalities. She still needed to make a revision guide to organize her time while she was away, and she'd barely started on crafting a presentable resumé...
The door opened, the old wood scraping across the carpet. Hermione looked up, quill feather tickling her chin.
"I thought I'd find you here," Draco said, coming to sit in the opposite couch, tie coming undone carelessly.
She resisted the urge to straighten it. Instead, she fell back on their conversational staple: humour.
"Well, I needed the extra space. It was either here on Black Lake, but I didn't feel like making small talk with the squid."
Draco chuckled, getting out their assigned reading for History of Magic. "Somehow, I don't think you'd be too please if you got your precious binder wet. So, have you narrowed your choices down yet?" he asked her, coming to stand by her shoulder.
Hermione sucked in a breath. "No," she got out, somewhat steadily, eyes focused on the information she'd collected. "No, I'm not, and I don't like being prepared."
Draco took the binder from her, holding it above his head as she tried to make a grab for it. He grinned roguishly at her futile attempts, hair falling in his hair. Damn charming smile, damn charming hair.
"You're overthinking this, Hermione. What is your gut telling you?"
"My gut's telling me that you should give me my binder back before I hit you over the head with it," she said, crossing her arms.
Draco rolled his eyes but handed it to her, flopping back down on his couch. "Always the threat of violence with you."
"Hey, that's not true! I'm just... persistent," she said after a pause, not looking at the binder but at him.
"Now that i can attest to." Draco glanced at her, and whatever he found in her face steeled some resolve, for he tossed his book on the worn couch, long legs devouring the too-shirt distance between them. The backs of her knees hit the sofa, old wood creaking.
Hermione craned her head, chin tilted towards him.
"Got any more intestinal jokes for me?" she murmured.
Draco shook his head, hands buried fists in his pockets.
"Look, Hermione, about the other night...about New Year's, when we..."
"What about it?" she asked, just wanting this to be done.
"That was just...it was New Year's, and we were caught up in the moment, right? It wasn't something else, something more?" he asked her, grey eyes full of a burning intensity, a resolute desperation.
Hermione nodded. "Right. Yes, of course. Just a spur of the moment thing. Glad we could clear that up."
"Right."
"Right."
Hermione backed away from him, trying not to blink, pulling her cardigan more tightly about herself, as if the worn green fabric could somehow keep her together, keep her from falling apart.
Draco cleared his throat. "Do you want any help?"
She smiled softly. "Please. I feel like my eyes are going to start bleeding if I stare at this thing any more."
"We can't have that, can we?" he quipped, perching on the couches arm. Hermione closed her eyes, glad to be near to him, even if she wanted to open her mouth, wanted to say 'screw it' to the rest of the world and be selfish, just for once. After everything she'd been through, couldn't she have this one thing?
But she knew that the world owed her nothing and it was irresponsible to think otherwise.
"What about Flourish and Blotts?" Draco inquired, pointing it out on her list. "What's holding you back?"
"As much as I love books, it feels selfish to not pick something more beneficial, more practical. I can only apply the experience I'd gain there to working in a bookshop. I'd probably get told off for reading all the time, anyway."
Draco laughed, knowing this to be true. "While all of those are valid points," he agreed, "can you really see yourself sitting at a desk at the Ministry for five weeks, then for the rest of your life? That's not who you are, Hermione."
If it was anyone else, she may have been defensive, may have argued about duty and responsibility. But it was him, so she replied, "I know that, Draco. But what else am I supposed to do? My choice will be scrutinized no matter what, every paper dissecting it like it was some lab experiment. And I want what I choose to make a difference."
"Okay, if that's what you're worried about, I'm going to prove you wrong. Close your eyes," he ordered.
"Draco," Hermione admonished.
"Do it, Granger."
"Fine."
She closed her eyes.
"It's five years from now. It's your birthday, and all your friends and loved ones are there, even that blasted cat of yours. You're in the living room, books overflowing on the shelves, comfy furniture everywhere. People call for you to do a speech. What would you want to tell them?"
Hermione opened an eye. "Thanks for coming, I hope one of you didn't spike the punch? Thank you for that ugly tea cosy I will never use, even in the event of a tea cosy apocalypse?"
Draco gave her an unamused glare.
Hermione opened both her eyes, hands in her lap. "I suppose...I suppose I'd like to tell them that it's been a great five years, that I've loved every minute of it, even when things were bad. I'd tell them how grateful I was to have them in my life, and the best kind of magic is being happy with the people you care about. And that I learned to drive, that I finally perfected my mother's chocolate chip muffin recipe, that i danced on at least one table, that I splashed about in the road when it was pouring rain, and that I got to at least touch one person's life in a good way. That it would all be worth it, so long as I helped at least someone be who they were meant to be."
Yet, who did she see standing beside her, holding her up on her bad days, sharing in her good ones, laughing in the rain with her, kissing her on the cheek when he got back from work, exploring anything and everything that the world might offer them, together?
Draco, for it could be no other.
"High hopes you have there, Hermione," he joked, but his face grew serious in a heartbeat.
"Pick what you want, Hermione. Not the Ministry, not your friends, not anyone else but you. Life's too short to be unhappy, to not be honest with yourself."
Merlin, was he right. "Look at you, being all wise. You should do the fortune cookie messages."
"The fortune what?"
Hermione laughed. "Remind me to drag you to a Chinese restaurant one of these days."
"I'll hold you to that, so long as you come with me to my mother's garden party. You'd be a welcome reprieve from all the shrubbery and snobbery."
"Well, when you use alliteration and sibilance like that, how could I possibly refuse?"
"I aim to please. It would certainly be a sight, worlds colliding and all that."
A cord struck in her mind.
Hermione sat up, a grin emerging across her face. "The best of both," she echoed, flipping through her binder frantically. There.
Hermione raised her head. "Have you ever heard of a bookstore-owning, law-writing before?"
"I can't say that I have."
"Good. That means I'll be the first."
The two spent the better part of the night finalizing the details, working as a perfect pair. She often caught herself simply staring at him, marvelling at that mind of his, thinking that maybe she was making a mistake, maybe she could have her cake and eat it, maybe everything would be fine.
But she couldn't take that risk, not with him.
Then, he made it all the worse by carrying her up to the Common Room when she began to doze, not even forgetting that hulking binder of her's. He knocked on the door lightly, ignoring the Fat Lady's disapproving huff. Ginny opened the door, not in the least surprised to see Hermione in a near-comatose state after long hours of vigorous work.
Draco tucked her hair behind her ear, murmuring his goodbye. "Make sure she actually goes to sleep, would you, Gin? I'd be lost tomorrow without my partner in Potions crime?"
Ginny nodded, and Draco left her standing there at the top of the stairs. And maybe it was because she was exhausted, maybe it was because her heart was hurting all over again, but Hermione didn't put up a fight as she swayed into Ginny, bursting into tears.
"I couldn't tell him," she rasped as her friend held her tight, arms around her. "I couldn't tell him how much I care about him. I didn't want to hurt him."
"Love hurts, doesn't it?" Ginny said, and took her inside.
Draco closed the dungeon door, leaning against the cold metal heavily.
Theo quirked a brow.
"No," was all Draco said, making the way to his room.
Only when he was alone, staring at his reflection in the mirror, did he allow a single tear to fall. But only one.
Author's Note: Hello, my lovely readers! I have returned with an angsty installment for your reading pleasure. Now, I know you want them to be together, and believe me, I do as well, but I I had them together now, it would negatively impact the arc of the story. So, you're just going to have to wait.
But... I can give you a teaser for when they will get together: 'But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain, when it's two am and I'm cursing you're name." Yes, that is from a Taylor Swift song. I'm a massive Swiftie, so I couldn't help myself. Yes, I did also use the title of a Panic! At the Disco Song, because it's one of my faves.
At least Hannah and Neville are having a good time. At least I gave you that, right?
Please don't be mad!
Until next time!
All my love, Temperance Cain