A big thank you to Zephyrus Prolixity and Sea Kays for their amazing help with this chapter and for being my new betas!
Chapter Eight
A Little Help From a Friend
Early morning on a Saturday and she was planting seedlings along with Neville Longbottom on the rooftop of The Bewitchery. As they worked in mostly silent companionship Hermione couldn't help but steal a few glances at her longtime friend and he toward her. It was Neville who tired of it first and abandoned his trowel, pulling off his worn-out gloves, and crossing his arms over his chest.
"Spit it out already or I swear I'll leave. You know McGonagall will have my tush if she discovers I slipped out of the Castle today."
"Tush?" Hermione tried to hold in her laugh.
"Stop it, you! I work with children!"
Hermione raised her hands as if surrendering. Neville watched as her laughter faded into a frown. "Harry's back, you know…"
Neville nodded, "well yeah, we've been writing."
"You have? Since when?" Hermione tried to hide the upset that came from feeling left out, as though everyone on the face of the earth mattered and was worthy of a letter from Harry, except for her.
"Not long… He wrote to me a month or so before returning home. I send the girls choco frogs from Honeydukes once in a while. The little one is technically my godchild."
"Well, he pisses me off…"
Neville made a face, trying to hold in a smirk, "I can imagine why."
"Can you, really?" Hermione's eyes were sharp as she crossed her arms over her chest defensively.
Neville nodded. Once upon a time, he might've been terrified of his fellow classmate but their years of friendship beyond war and school had allowed them to grow closer. Neville Longbottom wasn't the sort to have loads of friends or be especially outgoing, but there were perhaps a handful of people that he considered as good as family and she was one of them. To him, no matter what happened, Hermione Granger would forever be that little girl who helped him find his frog on the train. "I can actually. You were in love with him once, quite obviously so…" He looked at her in a way that felt awfully like Hermione's father looked at her when he wanted to prove a point.
Hermione couldn't stop the blush that invaded her cheeks, or the hot feeling in the pit of her stomach as she registered his words. "He threw a fit the last time we saw each other… I was so furious! All I could see was red…"
"Well, no one can say he isn't the fiery sort, and Merlin knows you certainly are too." Neville retorted. "What happened?"
Hermione began to pace around the rooftop, tension coming off her in waves. As she did it she began listing: "I saved his daughter from falling off a tree, he invited me for tea at his place, I went… So far, so good… And then Eric called…"
"Eric your boyfriend?" He asked.
Hermione nodded, rolling her eyes, still pacing. "Tell me, Neville, what business does Harry have throwing a fit over him anyway?"
Her fellow Gryffindor fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Oh for Merlin's sake Hermione, he was jealous! You'd think it would be obvious to the brightest witch of her age."
Hermione paused her neurotic pacing as he said the blasted words. "Awfully audacious of him, don't you think? To be jealous after all this time, after leaving."
Neville shrugged. "The heart is one thing, and the head is another entirely," he trailed off. "I have my suspicions, though, that you're upset not because Harry was jealous but because you liked that he was jealous."
Hermione's eyes widened as she took it all in. For four days she'd been losing sleep over it, over all of it, only for Neville of all people to come out and say it to her face. She was livid, she was pissed, she was completely and utterly screwed. "I... I do not know how to respond to that."
"We seldom do when it comes to feelings," Neville reasoned.
"Shouldn't they have gone away by now?"
He shook his head, "That's not how feelings work…"
"If he had feelings for me, why on earth did he leave?"
Neville sighed deeply, staring out at the view to the village and castle for a long moment. "Maybe because love is scary…" His voice was low and saddened all of a sudden. "To love someone is to be so vulnerable, so miserable… Nothing else is good or pleasant in life, nothing else has beauty, it's all just colorless and miserable when we lose them or they don't love us back. Like the London winter..."
Hermione couldn't help but smile gently at his analogy, though in reality there was no humor to any of it. "Ginny, I gather."
"Yeah, the one and only." Neville gulped and returned his focus to the plants.
They still had so much to do: finish planting the seedlings and new flowers, hang the strings of lightbulbs, set up the tables… He'd been gracious in all honesty, helping her with this little project with already so much to do at Hogwarts.
"She'll be here for my birthday party. We floocalled yesterday…" Hermione trailed off, putting her gloves back on.
"Flying in from Dublin, I see." Neville accioed the watering can. "Then I'll finally get the chance to congratulate her on leading the Harpies into that World Cup win!" He pretended to be excited.
"You're so full of shit, Nev." Hermione poked fun at him.
"Nah, you're full of even more shit, Granger." He successfully swerved from a handful of mud she threw his way.
"Hello, Sweetheart! Ready to go?" Hermione and Neville both were startled to hear Eric's voice coming from the antique iron lift behind them.
"Oh. Is it noon already?" Hermione asked, having completely lost track of time.
Eric smiled and nodded. "Rooftop's beginning to look great. Hello, Longbottom!" Neville nodded his hello.
"You go have your lunch, I'll just finish here and floo to Harry's. Godfather duties!" Hermione's eyes widened at the new bit of information given in front of Eric. She glared at her friend.
"Do you mean Harry? As in Harry Potter?" Eric asked, with genuine surprise. He sent Hermione a look that had her paling on the spot.
"Yes! The one and likely not the only." Neville retorted impishly, "He's living in Amberley now."
"In Amberley. Huh… How exciting for you to be able to see your friend again, and have him so close."
"Yeah, fifteen years too long, you know? Anyway, off you go you two. Enjoy your luncheon and have fun!" Neville smiled, gently ushering them away.
"Yeah, you too," Eric waved.
The lift ride downstairs was only a minute long but a minute too quiet and too awkward. No, Hermione hadn't told her boyfriend that her once best friend was back in the country, hell, just a short walk from her house. And no, she hadn't been in a hurry either.
Rosalind Granger waved to them from behind the counter where she was assisting a customer, all the while her eldest daughter was trying her best not to vomit, nervous as she was.
It was only a short walk to the local Greek tavern, The Dioskouri, where Hermione often ate, usually preferring the lighter Mediterranean diet to sandwiches and pies.
After minutes of silence, she noticed Eric sigh from beside her and she forced herself to put on her big girl trousers and get it all over with. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."
"It's none of my business…" He responded, his tone serious and lacking the warmth usually reserved for her.
Never in a million years would Hermione imagine he'd be this upset. Eric hadn't the slightest idea of her relationship with Harry, other than the well-publicized friendship between the trio that had won the second wizarding war.
"I didn't say anything because I'm still coming to terms with it myself. Eric…" He ignored her as he continued on the path to the restaurant. "Eric, please… Listen!" She hissed at him, unwilling to make a fool of herself in the middle of the street.
Eric stopped on his tracks and then turned around to face her, disappointment evident on his face.
"Your best friend is back from I don't know how many years living abroad Hermione… Anybody else in your place would be over the moon! But you aren't happy, or whatever, you're not! And that just sort of proves to me that something really serious happened between you two and-and, whenever Harry Potter is the topic of conversation you act strange, you grow tense… Were you two lovers? Is that it?"
"No. No, that's not it! We were never lovers, never. As you said, he was my best friend and he's lived fifteen years abroad. I suppose that's why I'm upset… Why return now when none of us needs him anymore?"
As soon as Hermione said the words she regretted them, the lies that they were. She didn't lie when she said she and Harry weren't lovers but they weren't just best friends either. There wasn't a single word in the English dictionary capable of precisely describing what they were during those last months of 1999, not that she was the least bit inclined to divulge all of the gory details to Eric.
"I worry, you know…" He trailed off, trying to look at anything but her so as to avoid Hermione seeing the pain in his eyes, as well as the insecurity.
Eric Fletcher was a smart, handsome, wonderful, good man. He deserved much better than the brokenness Hermione had to offer.
"About Harry?"
"No, about you! You are my girlfriend, or at least I think you are. Are you?"
Hermione nodded, her eyes wide and her heart thumping inside her chest. "Well yeah, yeah I am."
"Well, it's bloody hard to know because you close yourself off in such a way… Let's be serious right now, Hermione. Do you see a future for us? Do you see us growing old together?"
She just stood there for a long moment, the two of them in the middle of the sidewalk, everyone else swerving away from them, one or another curious glance being cast their way.
"I want us to." She answered him honestly, for once. Eric sighed. "I wish I had your certainty but I've been married before and I've had my heart broken before and it's just hard."
"You see, I want you more than anything, you're the most incredible woman… Forgive me if I'm afraid of getting my heart broken because I have cause to believe that I'm falling madly in love with you."
There was nothing Hermione could possibly say, good or bad. So she did what women normally did in the movies: she kissed him, her boyfriend, and then they went off to eat lunch; hope, and happiness back in his eyes.
What Hermione felt inside, however, was an ever-growing feeling of desperation. She desperately wanted to love Eric, it would be so easy to love him and then be happy for the rest of her life. Despite it all, Hermione had seen this movie before, hell, she'd been the star of it, she knew the bloody script by heart.
It wouldn't last.
...
Neville Longbottom had been under Lily and May's torture for nearly a half-hour when Harry came out of the kitchen with grilled chicken sandwiches, pumpkin juice for the girls, and nice cool bottles of butterbeer for the adults.
"Lunch is served! Come on Lily. You too, May!"
"Is it May, or Matilda?" Neville asked him, considering it was Matilda on her birth certificate, which he as godfather had signed. Neville had play-pink lipstick across his face and glittery butterfly stickers all over his shirt.
"Matilda, on paper, but we've always called her May… It started with my father-in-law."
"I like Matilda, it suits her personality, you know, Matilda of England." Harry chuckled.
The truth was that every time he saw the name Matilda he thought about Hermione and how she was the first person who ever mentioned this name, first because 'Matilda' was actually her favorite book as a little girl, and second because it was so old-lady like and frumpy it was nice. Harry having used Lily for his eldest, which to him was the most special of names due to his late mum, Matilda was the only other name that felt special enough… Maybe now that his daughter was a bit older he should use it more often.
"Have you two thanked uncle Neville for the chocolate frogs he brought?"
"Thank you!" Lily said, with a smile. Out of all the little girls Harry knew, and to be honest, they weren't that many, Lily was the one who loved chocolate the most. "Uncle Neville, is it true you live in a castle?"
"Oh, yeah, it is true. The castle I live in is called Hogwarts and it's a boarding school. Before I became a teacher there your dad and I were students."
Lily turned to look at her father, her eyes sparkling. "Daddy, is uncle Neville a witch too?" She whispered to him, though Neville was still able to hear. He couldn't help but grimace at being called a witch.
"Umm, he's a wizard, love. Wizards are boy witches."
"Do you know Teddy?" May asked Neville after she gulped down her juice.
"Oh yeah!" Lily exclaimed. "He's like our older brother but not one hundred percent our brother because we live in different houses."
"I do know Teddy, yes. He's one of my students, though now he prefers to be called Edward. He made Prefect this year." Neville widened his eyes wearing a silly grin, mocking Teddy's teenage ways.
"What's a perfect?" May asked.
"A Prefect, darling," Harry corrected, "he gets to boss on the other students and his job is to keep everyone in line."
"Does everyone get to be a Prefect?" Lily asked, "I'd like to be one if it means being the boss!"
"Do we have another Gryffindor in the making, mate?" Neville asked Harry, with a laugh. "I'm sure you'll make a fine Perfect one day Lily," Neville guaranteed, "you'll have to wait a few years though."
"Do you know my friend Bea and her Mummy, Ms. Hermione? They're witches too!"
"Of course I know them. Actually, I was just at Hermione's shop helping with her plants. We're fixing it up and making it pretty for her birthday in a few days. And I've known Bea Bell since she was a baby! I didn't know you were friends…"
"We're best friends," Lily told him, with a smile. "We're in the same class."
"That's splendid! Like history repeating itself, Potters and Grangers, eh?" Neville winked, with a grin.
A few minutes later the girls finished their meal and Harry put on a movie for them, something about singing nuns which they adored. He and Neville were sitting together at the table, a new round of butterbeer to drink, and plenty of time to kill.
"I've brought the books you requested," Neville told him, pulling them out of his pocket and using his wand to return the old, dusty tomes to their proper sizes. "Madam Pince made an exception for you."
"I'll be sure to write her a thank you note, then." Harry felt that familiar sensation of nostalgia overcome him, as his fingers touched the spines of the leather-bound books belonging to his old school's library. Upon opening the cover of the first one, he saw the stamp with the school's crest. He was instantly reminded of his boyhood days in the library, doing homework, doing research, and just spying on the pretty girls in all his teenage idiocy.
But there would always be one person these books and that library reminded him of most, and though not physically present, ever since he arrived in England, it was as if she were some kind of omnipresent deity. Harry could perfectly imagine Hermione's delicate fingers turning the pages of these books, devouring each and every bit of information. He longed for her presence, for her company, for her to be here.
Neville cleared his throat to call his mate's attention back to the task at hand. "Harry, I've done some reading and I'm certain that practice is what will strengthen your magic core until it returns back to normal. I don't know about your wand though, you told me you have a special connection to it and would like to keep it, if possible, but the wood is far too brittle and holly wood is particularly delicate."
"No hopes there, then?" Harry asked, sadly, although it was exactly what he'd been expecting to hear.
Neville shrugged and shook his head. "Have you tried performing spells with a different wand?"
"Not yet… During the war when Hermione and I were wandless, we used Ron's. Wasn't the same but served us just fine." Harry eyed their already empty bottles of butterbeer and had an idea. "Could I try on yours?"
"Sure, no problem!"
Harry grabbed the glass bottles and motioned for Neville to follow him to the small courtyard. Neville took his wand out of his holster and handed it to him.
Harry shattered a bottle against the stone pavement and then pointed Neville's wand towards it.
"Reparo!" Nothing much happened at first, aside from a couple of shards of glass moving a few inches. "Reparo!" He cried out again, his voice much steadier and firm.
It worked then, slower than it would usually, but it worked nevertheless. Bit by bit the pieces of glass flew back together and molded themselves into a bottle once more.
Neville was amazed as he watched, clapping his hands. "Didn't expect it to happen so soon, mate!"
"Neither did I…" Harry responded. Neville threw the other bottle on the ground and it too broke in hundreds of pieces. "Reparo!" Harry cast and once again the pieces mended back, though slightly faster than the last time.
"A different spell this time?" Neville suggested, "do you think you can levitate it?"
Harry stared at the bottle for a long time, hoping he'd be successful. Just being able to perform those simple spells on Neville's wand made him feel energized in a way that he hadn't felt in years. He felt happy, excited, and just… He felt like the Harry he once was.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry shouted out the spell, only for it to fail.
A memory sprang to the forefront of his mind. It was the vision of a smug and exasperated little girl sitting in professor Flitwick's class. She had brown bushy hair and lovely eyes. He still remembered how her voice sounded at just twelve-years-old: "It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long." The thought of her made him smile.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry cast the spell again. His heart practically soared as he watched the bottle go up and up until it was higher even than Neville.
He felt a laugh beginning to vibrate in his chest until he couldn't help himself. His heartbeat was incredibly fast as the adrenaline coursed through his veins. The bottle came crashing down but Harry didn't care. Tears filled his eyes and all the emotion he suddenly felt was just too overwhelming, however, in a good way. Harry Potter felt alive in a way that he hadn't since leaving home so many years ago.
"Are you all right there, mate?" Neville asked though he couldn't help the smirk forming on his face from watching Harry's reaction.
"Nev, I haven't felt this 'all right' for a very long time."
"Practice is vital and you should keep doing it every day. Perhaps a trip to Ollivander's to see about a new wand?" Neville suggested with a grin.
"I don't know how to thank you…"
"Well, I do." Neville retorted. "Come with me to Hermione's birthday party this Thursday evening."
"I haven't been invited." Neville rolled his eyes.
"That's because she's still pissed with you, you know how stubborn she is. Just show up and be your brilliant self, enjoy your old friends who will all be there…"
"Everyone?" Neville nodded.
"It'll be like truly coming back won't it?" Neville shrugged.
"Prove to her that you won't leave again, Harry, and then you'll see that everything will fall into place."
"When did you get so wise?"
"You know me… Hopeless romantic is what I am." Neville chuckled. "But I think you knew that already, deep down, or you wouldn't have moved to Amberley of all places. We both know you could've just returned to London and set up camp at Grimmauld."
Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He returned the wand to Neville. "She's the love of my life, Nev."
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