Chapter 31: Hermione Glows (& Grows) Up

Neville shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, hovering on the threshold of the Hogwarts library while gingerly holding the flowerpot in his hands. The flowerpot he had spent hours working on in the greenhouses.

He didn't know why he was, or should be, feeling this nervous. It was only Hermione after all – one of his best mates since he was 11, and before he had begun at Hogwarts, he hadn't had much hope he would ever find any of those. Plus, she was one of the few girls, other than Luna Lovegood, with whom he could carry on a conversation without stuttering.

Neville bristled at how he could almost hear his Gran in his head. Are you a Longbottom, or are you not? Are you a Triwizard Champion or not? He may have gotten through the First Task… and the Second…. by the skin of his teeth, but this was an entirely new kind of challenge. And…. well, if he didn't ask Hermione to the Yule Ball, he wasn't sure who would have him, Champion or no. He would just have to grit his teeth and do it, as Ron had advised when they'd learned that they would be expected not only to ballroom dance but to also find a girl to dance with, and in public. As a Champion, the pressure was on Neville all the more, as he would be expected to arrive with someone on his arm.

Besides…. he had to thank his best girl in some way for preparing him just enough that he got through the First Task alive, if just barely.

It's just Hermione, he told himself before forcing his feet to carry him into the library. She might say Yes. After all, we're mates, aren't we?

He found her, predictably, behind a stack of bookcases, in one of her favorite reading nook haunts, bushy hair buried in a tome. When she lifted her head to smile at him, Neville was struck by how lovely she looked. She was growing into a beautiful young woman, now more woman than girl in face, and he couldn't help but notice how curves were clinging to her under her robes and blouse – indicative of a body that had matured.

"Hey, Neville," his best friend chirped. "What's up?"

He kept the flowerpot, containing a glowing rose, behind him as he approached. The idea to ask her creatively like this had come to him when he'd been bemoaning over where (or how) he'd find the confidence to ask her or any girl in the first place. The answer had come to him surprisingly easily: try going with what you know. Well, he knew about plants. It was about the only Hogwarts subject he was good at. Then, after hearing Hermione try to patiently explain an old Muggle story to Ron one night – one about a beautiful girl falling in love with a creature and breaking a magical spell on it ruled by a wilting, magical red rose – he had thought his best girl might appreciate the reference.

"…. I want to ask you something!" he blurted out.

She could clearly detect a slight bobble of nerves in his voice, for she giggled. "OK…." Neville had to be grateful that at least he hadn't stuttered. Not wishing to second-guess himself or psych himself out, he had out with it in a rush.

"Would you like to go to the Ball with me?"

Hermione's big, brown eyes blinked doefully, her smile shifting to something politely vague. "Sorry? I didn't catch that."

Neville took a breath, tried again, this time deliberately slowing his voice down. "Hermione…. ?"

"Yes…?"

"….would you like to go…. To the Ball with me?" And he now presented her with the glowing, enchanted rose he had carefully cultivated in Professor Sprout's greenhouses for the past two weeks.

He watched as Hermione's brown orbs went big in what he hoped was pleasant surprise. Standing slowly, so that the book tumbled out of her lap, she approached it. Reached out a finger as if to touch one of the petals, then held back. A soft smile was playing on her bow lips, as she turned her head to peer at him. She seemed amused, but also quite touched.

"Did you…. make this? For me?"

He bobbed his head dumbly. He unconsciously blushed too. From the way Hermione was now close to beaming, it was clear she had gotten the reference and appreciated it. He watched her shoulders rise as she took in a deep breath.

"OK….. Yes!"

Neville's face collapsed in shocked relief. He couldn't believe it. He had done it. He should have known it wouldn't be so hard, so long as it was Hermione he was asking. "Brilliant! So…. I'll meet you in the Common Room Christmas Eve?"

"Plan on it," Hermione smiled. Grinning down at the flowerpot, Neville gave an awkward chuckle and handed the rose off to her. Practically buzzing, Hermione accepted the flower admiringly. Neville was just turning about to go, nearly tripping over himself in his excitement, when he felt Hermione catch his arm. Turning him back to her, she perched on her tiptoes and lightly brushed her lips along his cheek.

Shocked beyond his wildest hopes at how excited she was, how he had clearly made her day, Neville seemed to float back to the Gryffindor Common Room in a kind of tizzy.

When Ron heard from a buzzing and clearly thrilled Hermione that their mutual best mate, of all people, had asked her to the Ball using nothing but a flower, that was when he started to panic. He'd have to find a date soon, and fast! The Ball was only days away and from what he could see, most everyone had been paired off by now.

Well, he thought with a relieved, appreciative chuckle, except for Harry Potter.

The sentimental….. well, something, perhaps not favorite, but something seemed well on his way to being the only boy their year (aside from him) who did not yet have a date to the Ball. A brief attempt for the two boys to link arms and flag down dates together proved disastrous, and as much as it pained him, Ron had to look out for his own, and leave Harry to watch the chips fall as they may.

Perhaps Ron's brief and pathetic attempt to help him had given Harry the idea, for as a last resort, he decided to ask Ron's sister, Ginny, who he'd always thought was kind of cute. Besides, Ginny was in third year, and only fourth years and older could go to the Ball unless someone younger was officially asked by an older student. Harry figured Ginny would jump at the chance to go to a party she otherwise would not be invited to. Besides, he and Ginny were good mates.

It took a few rehearsals in his mirror, but he finally managed to get Ginny alone while leaving dinner one night. "Ginevra, would you like to go the Ball with me? I would hope you'd save me at least one dance. I'll be out there waiting. All night."

Ginny tried not to let her blue eyes bulge in a kind of pained panic as she worked out what her friend was asking her. Sure, she would like to go to the Ball, same as any other envious third year or below, but if she had to make a choice between going with Harry Potter and not going at all, she'd gladly takes her chances on not going at all. She quickly rearranged her face into something she hoped was a flattered smile, thinking fast, all while trying to ignore how she hated anyone calling her Ginevra, even her friends.

"Oh….. that's so kind…." Her gaze landed on inspiration. "But you know what would be even kinder?" She pointed to a student in Ravenclaw robes a short distance away, being assisted by friends onto the changing staircase. "See that tragically beautiful girl? The one in the chair? It seems so unfair we should go on a spree, and not she. Gee…." She tried not to feign a wistful sigh too much. "I know someone would be my hero, if that someone were to go invite her…"

She observed as Harry made the logical leap, strenuous as it clearly was for him. "Well, maybe…. I could invite her!"

"Oh, Harry? Really? You would do that for me?"

"I would do anything for you, Ginevra," Harry told her, besotted, and she wrestled down a wince as she watched him dash off to flag down Marietta Edgecombe. Only when she saw the disabled girl accept Harry's ask in delighted shock did Ginny allow herself a relieved grin.

Neville squirmed against the too-tight Windsor knot that he had made Ron tie for him. Most of their House had already departed for the night's festivities down in the Great Hall; he was waiting here on the stair between the girls' and boy's dormitories for his date.

When a fairy princess finally emerged from the girls' dorms, his jaw almost dropped. It was Hermione.

But she didn't look like Hermione at all. She was wearing a bubble-gum pink dress that showed off some cleavage, though tastefully so. Her hair was sleek and shiny instead of its natural bushy, now done up in an elegant bun. Descending the stair regally, she smiled at him shyly.

Stunned by her, Neville unconsciously gave her a deferential bow. His gentlemanly manners caused Hermione to giggle, and she curtsied.

"Charmed, I'm sure," she drolled. Grinning at him brightly, she offered him her arm. "Shall we go down then, Neville?"

Throat dry, Neville accepted her arm and escorted her down to the Great Hall.

He couldn't help but be pleased with himself at how most everyone in the school, including those of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, were gawking at him and especially at the beautiful witch on his arm. Hermione was blushing as pink as her dress, waving shyly to people she knew; her smile was radiant.

The Champions led off the first dance, and being shy and awkward in most social situations, Neville let Hermione take the lead. She was effervescent as she glided about in his arms, waltzing across the floor. He was glad with and proud of himself that he had clearly made his best friend so happy.

It also seemed that his date was clearly the Belle of the Ball, for several boys politely asked if they could cut in. To his surprise and gratitude, Hermione gently let them all down easy, even the Bulgarian Champion, Viktor Krum. The international Quidditch star didn't seem to mind doing this even as he had his own date already, and one, when he caught sight of her, who made Neville do a pleasantly-surprised double-take: it was Luna Lovegood. Only, much like Hermione, she didn't much look like Luna at all – indeed, she appeared more grown up.

Hermione and Neville only at last stole away from the dance floor, laughing, when their feet hurt too much to move them. Hermione was fanning herself, her pretty face red, flustered.

Grabbing some punch and resting against a table to chat, the pair quickly came across a surly and brooding Ron, who nearly started a row with Hermione over that Viktor Krum asking her for a dance, even though she'd turned him down. Seeing as it was not their faults that Ron was clearly having such a bad night, Hermione refused to rise to the bait, and taking Neville's hand, she pulled him away.

"I'm feeling a bit peckish, Neville. I think I'll retire."

She guided him with purpose back up towards the Gryffindor Common Room, which was deserted by the time they arrived there.

"You're sure you don't mind turning in early?" Neville asked her meekly.

Hermione chuckled, slipping one of her heels off her feet. "I doubt I could dance much more even if I wanted to." Lifting her head to smile up at him tiredly, she laid a gentle hand on his arm. "Thank you, Neville. I had a lovely time."

"You're welcome."

The best friends stared at each other a moment, like there was something else left unresolved. When neither moved, Hermione grinned and turned away to ascend the stair.

Maybe being a Champion, even an accidental one, had changed Neville in some way, for he otherwise wasn't sure where he found the nerve. Grabbing for Hermione's hand, he barely allowed her time to turn back to him, face creasing in bemused confusion before he had seized her by the arms, pulled her close and kissed her very clumsily on the mouth.

He felt Hermione choke out a shocked gasp into his lips, and her body stiffened slightly in surprise against his. He was stunned when just a moment later, she melted, butter-soft against him and hesitantly looped her arms about his neck, kissing him back. Her lips twitched into his in an almost exploratory way, and he heard a curious hum bubble up from the back of her throat.

"Mmmmmm….."

After a few moments of almost inquisitive kissing, the couple broke apart, their arms still around each other. Hermione looked scandalized, thunderstruck, and Neville flushed impotently, wondering if he had somehow offended her, even though she had returned his kiss rather eagerly. The best excuse he could come up with was that a sprig of mistletoe was hanging above them, though he'd only noticed it after he had pressed his lips to hers.

A loaded beat. And then –

The two best mates collapsed into peals of awkward giggles, which soon crescendoed into full-blown laughter.

"Well…." Hermione concluded breathlessly. "That was quite…. informative."

"Yeah," Neville chuckled. "Not that…. you're not a good kisser!" he attempted to backpedal, lest he offend her. Though it seemed a relief they were on the same page.

Hermione smiled softly at him, though there was sadness to the curl of her flushed and kiss-swollen lips as well. "So are you…." Swaying onto her tiptoes, she kissed him on his cheek, hovered for a moment in his personal space and then buzzed her lips along his in one final kiss…. "Goodnight…." she murmured, before turning and prancing up the stairs to the girls' dormitory.

Neville watched her go with a wistful smile, but content in their mutual decision as he now climbed for his four-poster. Hermione was right: their shared kiss had been informative, telling them both a lot. It was good they had tested it out, and learned now, before risking a ruination of their friendship.

Only one other person seemed to be inside the boys' dormitory when he staggered in: poor Harry Potter, sprawled on his bed. The bespectacled boy lifted his head at Neville's arrival. Neville vaguely wondered whether the other lad had managed to find a date after all that.

"Hi, Harry! I just got in! ….. Me!" Neville could hardly believe his luck that he had managed to attend the Ball himself, and he had been a Champion! And he hadn't died! He had even landed his first kiss! True, it had been a kiss with his best friend, but even so….

He did a kind of low-simmer waltz, all but floating, back to his bed before falling into it. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.