The Houses Competition (or THC) Round 7
Story Type: Drabble (up to 1,000 words)
House: Gryffindor
Class: DADA
Prompt: (emotion) Courage, (season) Spring
Word Count: 998
Disclaimers/triggers: N/A
Beta Love: Thanks Charlie9646 and secretfanficlover for looking over my story.
Inflorescence
It was time.
He had waited this long, but now it was time for him to do it; to draw on every ounce of courage within himself. Time for him to live up to the reputation he had fought hard to earn those seven years earlier, during times of extreme duress. He had been strong, a leader then, stepping in to fill the vacuum left behind when the Golden Trio hadn't returned to Hogwarts for their seventh year of schooling.
Why then was it so difficult for him to dredge up some of that courage now, faced with the prospect of asking a witch to go to dinner with him?
The answer was, it had been easy to do that back then. Asking her to go on a date with him wasn't something he needed to do as much as wanted to. Fighting a war, giving instruction, taking care of people—these things were second nature to him.
Asking Hermione Granger to go on a date with him, however...utter disaster.
What if she were to say no? That question alone had kept him from asking several times over the last few weeks. She likely still just saw him as the shy, awkward boy of their youth. She was lovely, accomplished, and could have her pick of wizards. These were the things he would tell himself whenever he talked himself out of asking her.
Realising he was on the precipice of talking himself out of asking her once more, Neville sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes and forcing one foot in front of the other as he made his way to the Hogwarts greenhouses. Once inside the farthest greenhouse from the castle, he pulled a pair of delicate shears from the pocket of his work apron, beginning the careful process of collecting some open blooms as well as closed buds from the flowers he had cultivated there.
As it was spring, most of his favourite flowers were in the process of florescence, so he had his pick of them. Gathering together those which he knew Hermione was fond of, he allowed himself a small smile as he admired the bright, multi-coloured bunch. Pleased, Neville pocketed the shears, removing his gloves as well which he left there on the workbench in the greenhouse, before exiting the glass enclosure, heading back towards the castle.
It was a little warm still, that afternoon, the sun setting a little bit later every day as they edged towards summer. He'd hoped the weather would remain a little more moderate for longer that year, but it seemed that spring was eager to move on. He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, he nodded and smiled at the small group of students who greeted their Herbology professor as he passed them on the way into the castle.
Ensconced in his chambers, Neville ensured the bouquet was tied off neatly and set it aside in some water while he took care to shower and groom himself. Not wanting to come off as though he was trying too hard, he dressed neatly, but not too formally, wearing his finest teaching robes. When he felt presentable enough, Neville took the bunch of flowers, spelling away any excess water, and left his chambers to ascend three floors to where Hermione's were.
Grateful it was a Saturday, he passed very few students on his way there, though still received a few curious looks. His heart rate was elevated, pounding against his ribs rapidly making his chest and throat feel tight, his anxiety mounting with each step forward he took. By the time he reached the sixth-floor landing, Neville was sweating, a bead of it travelling from his hairline down his neck, disappearing past the collar of his robes.
At the entrance to her chambers, he awkwardly stood in wait, his failing nerve holding him back from lifting his hand to knock on the frame of the portrait guarding it. Just do it, man, he chided himself. You'll never know if you don't ask. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he drew his wand and cast a freshening charm to wick away the sweat.
Stepping forward, his arm raised to knock, only for the portrait to swing forward suddenly, just barely missing him as he hastened backwards out of the way.
"I'm sorry!" Hermione was quick to apologise, her eyes going wide as she saw that the portrait had nearly swung into him. "Are you all right?"
Recovering from the surprise, Neville nodded at her, his jaw clenched tightly as his eyes roved over her. She always looked so lovely. Her riotous brown curls were loose around her shoulders, the length of it now had tamed it somewhat, though he still knew it to have a life of its own. She wore a demure set of rose-colour robes, complementing both her smoky eyes and her complexion. His mouth immediately went dry.
"Are you sure?" the Transfiguration professor pressed, looking at him in concern.
Realising she was probably misunderstanding his silence, Neville nodded again with more certainty, digging deep to seek out the last little bit of courage he needed to see out his intentions that evening.
"I–uh…" he began, his tongue becoming tied.
Hermione smiled at him fondly, before taking pity on him and asking, "Are those tulips for me?"
Having almost forgotten about the flowers, Neville thrust them towards her. "Yes," he answered. "You said they were your favourite."
"They're beautiful," she stated.
"Like you," he murmured, the words tumbling out before he could catch them.
Her smile broadened. "Thank you," she told him, reaching out to touch his hand nearest her. "I love them."
"Hermione?"
"Hmm?"
"You wouldn't happen to be free for dinner sometime, perhaps next weekend?" He could feel his stomach roiling in protest now.
The smile she gave him then was sublime. "I'd love to."
Neville felt his chest expand with happiness, his worries from earlier falling away.