Author's note: I have no excuse, all I can say is thank you for sticking with this after such a long hiatus and thank you, especially, to those of you who found this fic while I wasn't writing and still left such nice comments. Your support is more than I deserve. Hopefully you'll all be pleased to have the longest chapter yet? I know it doesn't make up for the wait, but I had to get a lot done here in Hannah's perspective before I can move on. Thank you, as ever, for taking the time to read my writing. I hope you enjoy!
The rain was a welcome companion. Sure, Hannah couldn't see it—it was the middle of the night and she lay in bed with the curtains drawn—but that didn't matter. After weeks of drizzling on and off, the sky had finally opened up, a sort of relief that she could only long for. Its patter against the window served as a nice reminder that, even as Hannah lay cocooned in half a dozen blankets, paralyzed by more feelings than her body seemed capable of processing, the world outside still turned. For that she felt grateful.
And maybe she could have focused in on that gratitude, if only her head would stop pounding. She'd already taken pain relief potion, it was the first thing that she'd done after finishing up her closing shift, but it hadn't eased the sharp ache. Rather, the potion had merely caused everything to go blurry. Thoughts kept flickering in Hannah's mind, each one too foggy to grasp onto. Her mouth felt fuzzy and her stomach churned, never mind that she'd made sure to grab a snack from the kitchen as they cleaned up for the night. Add in the fact that she'd been unsuccessful in her attempt to fall asleep for nearly two hours already and Hannah knew that her rough night was far from over.
She rolled onto her back with a sigh, tugging her yellow blanket up to her face. Even if she couldn't keep any single thought within focus, a very clear subject took up every corner of her brain. And, of course, it had to be the only thing she truly didn't want to think about. Not then, not ever. She sunk her fingers into the knitted texture, burying her nose in it too.
It didn't matter how much easier her day to day grief had become, late September always buried her under a mountain of despair that, try as she might, she couldn't escape. For the weeks leading up to September 29th all Hannah could do was try her best to keep it together, to do her work and keep herself bathed and fed and as well rested as possible. And as simple as that sounded, it still managed to prove almost too challenging each year. Hannah found that just getting up in the morning could be nearly impossible when thoughts of her mother haunted her for every second of the day. Maybe this was why her father had upturned that picture. If that act had given him any respite from feeling like this, could Hannah really blame him?
Every year it was agony, yet somehow this year felt worse. Probably because of the significance, five years since her mother's murder, five years since her entire world had been upturned. Why did that solid five seem so momentous? Logically, Hannah knew that her world would have changed entirely no matter what happened to her mother. The war would've shifted enough within her that she probably would've ended up in the same place, with the same doubts and fears. But the suspicion that gnawed at the edges of her mind said otherwise. Sure, things would have changed, but maybe the effects wouldn't have lasted so long if her mother were there to ebb the flow, to protect or at the very least comfort Hannah as she processed all that she had seen. Maybe if the foundation of her life hadn't been blasted apart those worries and fears never could have turned into the neurosis that tore through her now.
Hannah sat up, pushing the blankets away from her body. They felt smothering, suddenly, like a trap, crushing her chest and necessitating escape. She swung her legs over the edge of the mattress, feet ghosting over the floor, and ran her hands over her face. Her skin felt clammy despite the cool air. Maybe sleep just wasn't an option tonight. She pressed her palms against her eyes and tried desperately to form a clear thought. Light, the far reaches of her brain shouted through the fog, light might help. So Hannah stood up and crossed to the window, drawing back the curtains to reveal the deserted length of Diagon Alley below, where the soft glow of the street lamps flickered up to her through the rain.
Leaning against her desk, Hannah took in the sight. She could still remember the first time she'd seen this, on one of her first nights in this room, when it had caught her so off guard that she'd immediately shut it out with the curtains. Diagon Alley, in her mind at the time, wasn't meant to be seen so empty. It had always been such a lively, convivial space. In fact, the only time that Hannah could remember seeing the lane looking so desolate was when she needed to buy books before returning to Hogwarts for that mandatory seventh year, when her world had been drained of nearly all hope. In those early days working at the Leaky Cauldron the last thing Hannah needed was to confront the memories of that year. It was hard enough already, returning to the Wizarding world after spending a year in Belfast with her Nana, convincing her father and his parents that she'd be all right in London, not to mention actually having to adjust to living alone. There had been no space in her mind at the time to push past those brutal memories. But in the year since she'd tried so hard to work through those things, and it was a sort of victory now to look down on the empty street, to see it only for what it truly was—a charming, magical place at rest for the night.
She felt foolish at the memories. How could she ever have found such a calm sight so frightening? And with that, her mind edged toward an avalanche of shame. Her cheeks burned as she thought about all of the ways she'd failed, both as a daughter and a witch. From fleeing her real life almost as soon as school had ended to what her life had become now, there were so many wrong decisions and bad choices. Silly things from her school days, worse things from the last two years, and the most abhorrent bad decisions from wartime—staying hidden when she should have fought, staying silent when she could have spoken out against all of the wrongdoing at the school.
Hannah clutched the edge of the desk to ground herself. Her thoughts became a labyrinth far too easily on nights like this. She took a shuddering breath. The dark room spread out before her, as messy and harmless as ever, but looking at it suddenly felt oppressive. This room was so entirely her. She needed out.
As she padded across the dining space downstairs in her socked feet she was glad to be alone. Or at least, if Tom actually was lurking around as he so often did, he chose not to acknowledge her. It was for the best. She didn't want to be seen by anyone, let alone her boss, in a ratty t-shirt and too big sweatpants, with her braid having surely become a disheveled mess of hair from her tossing and turning. Hannah ducked into the kitchen, feeling relieved even through the fogginess of her mind.
At times like these it was a gift to be unseen. It brought some measure of peace, anyway, and the kitchen at the Leaky Cauldron served as a wonderful hiding place, even from one's own thoughts. During the day activity and noise abounded while Hephesta worked. It provided the sort of white noise that somehow counteracted whatever was happening in Hannah's brain lately. That made it the perfect place to get away to, and as an excuse to be there Hannah had taken up baking. At first it just felt like the next in her long line of blundered creative endeavors, another craft that she would soon abandon and forget in the frustration of having failed at it one too many times. But it proved to be different enough that she stuck with it. Baking, after all, had rules. It had instructions and ways to reason out of problems. And it also had sugar and butter and chocolate, which Hannah had already found were much more forgiving than paint or thread.
Sure, Hannah felt a bit pathetic admitting even just to herself that she still found it calming to follow instructions, that she took more pleasure in executing something that way than struggling through it independently. That was how a child operated, she thought, not a twenty-one year old woman. But if acting like a child was what it took to get some respite from her thoughts, Hannah would just have to swallow her pride and do it. And it wasn't as if no work went into her baking. She still got to puzzle out why her grandmother's recipes that she pulled from called for certain things and told her to use certain techniques. She still got to use her hands. Best of all, though, she got to focus on something outside of herself. And this something could even bring some joy for the people around her.
The Leaky Cauldron's pantry was always well stocked, and it had charms in place to know who took out what, so thus far Tom had been willing to just deduct the cost of her ingredients from her wages. That certainly simplified things for Hannah, and it gave her the freedom to basically make whatever she liked on a whim. Taking a look around the packed room by wand-light, the first thing that jumped out at her was a basket of raspberries, ripe and vibrantly red and probably some of the last they'd get that season. She gathered them along with the rest of her supplies, piling them in her arms. With her head feeling so cloudy she didn't trust herself to do two spells at once and the last thing she wanted was to waste what she took.
As she worked, the rain continued to fall. It slowed a few times, but only to return tenfold with riotous noise against the large, grimy panes of the windows that sat high on the exterior wall. The whole process took longer than it should have. Her limbs moved sluggishly, things that had previously felt natural now took a concerted effort. It probably didn't help that she worked in the low-light of one nearby lamp, but her head still ached and she feared that turning on the overhead lights would only make it worse.
The recipe that she was working off of came from her Nana, and so of course the techniques involved were done by hand, not magic. Hannah mostly kept to that, only pulling out her wand when some electronic appliance or other was called for. And eventually, she put two baking sheets of raspberry-filled hand-pies into the ancient oven.
As she moved the dirty dishes to the sink for washing, quiet footsteps approached.
"You know," Tom said, "It'd be more useful for you to learn how to make bread."
Hannah muttered a charm to get the dishes going and turned to her boss. "I could definitely try."
Tom nodded, a kind, toothless smile on his wizened face. "We go through a lot more of that than we do desserts."
"Alright," Hannah said, almost on instinct. In the back of her mind she was already kicking herself. What a stupid promise to make and what poor path to set herself upon. The thought of tackling such a different, and seemingly much more intricate form of baking made her stomach drop. She hardly had a handle on simple desserts and now she'd set herself up for failure yet again. But she'd made the promise, so now she had to attempt it, at the very least. Behind her back she began to wring her hands.
"Well," Tom said, "I suppose I'll leave you to it." He turned to leave, but stopped suddenly. "By the way, have you found someone to cover your shift on Saturday yet?"
"Sam can do it," Hannah said. In the haze of her distress that night she'd almost forgotten what loomed before her. Ginny had sent out another invitation to the whole DA, this time to attend a Quidditch match together. Hannah would have gladly passed it up, she knew the chances of enjoying herself were slim, but Susan had gotten to her before she'd had time to formulate an excuse. And in the face of her best friend's excitement, Hannah hadn't been able to find it in herself to let Susan down.
Tom clicked his tongue. "Sam, huh?" He stroked his jaw in thought for a moment before speaking again. "A poor replacement on a busy night," he said, "but I suppose he'll do just fine."
Hannah's stomach clenched. "I'm sorry, he was the only person available and it was short notice but—" Understanding broke through the fog in her mind and she fell silent. It wasn't an admonishment, as she'd assumed and feared, but rather a compliment paid to her job performance. "Thank you," she said then. Her voice sounded meek, she wondered if he'd even heard her over the water running in the sink behind her.
The gentle smile that spread on Tom's face suggested that he had indeed, somehow. He raised a gnarled hand in a silent wave before turning to disappear into the empty pub.
Alone again, Hannah's mind restarted its unfocused wandering. It edged dangerously close to everything she was avoiding, so she busied herself washing all of the counters. It wasn't strictly necessary, they did it after the kitchen closed each night, really she only needed to clean where she'd worked, but at least it gave her something else to do while the dishes washed and the pies baked.
Somewhere in the fogginess there was the acknowledgement that she couldn't run from all of this forever, that she should think about her mother and give her the sort remembrance she deserved. But she couldn't do it, not yet. Maybe the next week, on the actual anniversary, then she might open up those wounds and let them bleed freely. Certainly not before Saturday. If she was going to make it through another day of mandated merriment and seeing her old friends she'd need to keep it together.
For a moment she considered bailing on everyone for a few days. She could leave London, she thought fleetingly, she could head to the coast by herself, to sit by the sea and feel calm for once. That wasn't what would happen, though. She knew that much. No, if she disappeared it would only be to lock herself in her room, to trap herself and her thoughts in a space where maybe they might not feel so big and frightening, where at the very least they could only affect her. She'd let herself feel it all, she thought, she'd feel it and then maybe her mind would stop swirling and storming so often. It wasn't realistic though. Tom would find her easily enough, and would rightfully be angry with her for skiving off her shifts. And if she didn't show up on Saturday, Susan would just come to retrieve her, probably dragging her out her self-imposed confinement anyway. Hannah wasn't sure if she was grateful or resentful of that, or perhaps a bit of both.
She shut off the sink. The dishes lay in a drying rack, the charm having done its trick and made them spotless. In the renewed quiet of the space the dance of raindrops on the windows and the street outside once again overwhelmed Hannah's ears. She closed her eyes and listened to it, trying to let the uneven pattern of the sound drive back her swirling thoughts.
Hannah wouldn't run away again, she couldn't. But for the time being she'd resign herself to the lesser escape of hiding out in the kitchen, accompanied only by the darkness, the patter of the rain, and the smell of sugar-sweetened raspberries.
"Who knew that all it took to expand your social activities was Ginny Weasley's involvement?"
"Oh hush," Hannah said.
"Sorry," Susan told her. "But you've got to admit that ever since these little DA get-togethers have started you've been getting out more and more."
"I guess." Hannah would've mulled that over but her mind already felt too preoccupied with the masses of people that surrounded them. She hadn't been in a place with so many people at once in probably three years, not since all of those events in the wake of Voldemort's defeat. And she'd never been to a professional Quidditch match at all.
Susan pressed. "It's a good thing, you know. At least I think it is. It's just nice to see you more, regardless of whether or not other people are around, obviously. I just find the timing kind of funny."
The crowd moved around them in waves. Some going to the myriad food stalls, some getting merchandise from tents for their respective teams, but most walking in a current towards the stadium where it sat nestled at the center of the valley in which they stood, far from the eyes of any wayward Muggles.
"We should head in," Hannah said, tightening her grip on the bag she carried. It was loaded with take-away boxes full of all the treats she'd made in the past few days, the only kind of repayment she could think of for Ginny's generosity inviting them all there.
Susan's eyes narrowed, "You're sure you don't want to look around some more? You only get one first game!"
Unlike Hannah's family, which couldn't have cared less about sports, the Bones family had long consisted of diehard Quidditch fans. And under the guidance of her mother and aunt, Susan had been wrapped up in a love of the Holyhead Harpies for most of her life, making it only slightly surreal that she now knew the team's star player. Most of Hannah's knowledge of the sport came as a result of their friendship. It had formed in bits and pieces that she picked up from listening to Susan talk about Quidditch all throughout their time at Hogwarts, hearing her rant about rankings and rivalries as she read about them in the Daily Prophet and Seeker Weekly, even listening to some matches on the wireless in their common room. That being said, she was more than a bit out of the loop nowadays, and felt a bit like a fake fan wearing her borrowed Harpies shirt. Susan, meanwhile, looked completely at ease, if not ecstatic, in her head-to-toe green and gold ensemble, right down to the logo she'd painted onto her cheek. She'd even charmed it so the golden talon at its center would flex every so often.
Hannah nodded, "If it's alright with you, let's go see who else is here already."
"Okay!" Susan said. She smiled brightly as they joined the steady stream of people marching towards the stadium, allowing the crowd to swallow them, and Hannah promised herself that she wouldn't do anything to dampen Susan's excitement for the day.
According to Ginny's invitation there would be passes waiting for them at the gate, all they had to do was give their names. Hannah's throat felt tight when the man who they'd spoken to walked away looking confused. She wasn't sure that she could stand the embarrassment of being turned away now, or the disappointment on Susan's part. It was for nothing, though, because he returned with an older-looking witch wearing business robes that were adorned with a large Harpies broach.
"Right this way, ladies," she told them with a smile, and soon she was guiding them through the stadium at a quick clip.
She introduced herself as they continued through the less-intense but still sizable crowd, but Hannah didn't catch her name, instead only hearing that she worked in some sort of media position for the team. Through breaks in the stands they could catch glimpses of the bright green grass at the bottom of the pitch, and the glint of the sun on the goals at either end. It wasn't until they started up a guarded flight of stairs that Hannah caught the woman's words again.
"Of course we're glad to accommodate anything Ginny asks, she's been such a boost for the team's performance it's well worth a luxury box here or there. And the press coverage! What a windfall that's been."
"Luxury box?" Susan asked. She glanced back at Hannah and waggled her eyebrows.
That caught Hannah's ear as well. Ginny's invitation had simply been to watch the game, which they had figured meant normal seats in the stands for their group, maybe having a row all to themselves but nothing more. This sounded like a lot more.
Even with that tease, Hannah wasn't ready for what they walked into. When the woman opened the door for them they found that "luxury box" mean a large suite, bigger than Hannah's room at the inn, maybe even triple that size. There were stadium-style seats at the open front, sloping down to allow everyone a nice view of the pitch, but there was also a lounge area in the center of the room with couches and armchairs, not to mention the buffet tables which were loaded with rich-looking food that made Hannah want to leave her little bag of treats out in the hall.
"Merlin," Hannah breathed out. She turned to Susan, whose eyes were so wide Hannah thought it must hurt.
"Wow," Susan said.
The woman made a pleased noise, a cross between a laugh and a chirp. "Yes," she said, "it's quite impressive, isn't it? The wonders bought by having a media darling on the team."
Susan's sour expression helped to validate Hannah's own discomfort with that statement. Media darling,she thought, what a way to say war hero.
Before the awkwardness of the moment could hang for too long, though, Neville and Hermione approached them, both decked out in bright green Harpies gear as well.
"Thank you so much for your help, Mrs. Shellhaven," Neville said, a smile plastered on his face that, as far as Hannah could tell, didn't reach his eyes.
The woman, Mrs. Shellhaven apparently, drew herself up to full height and opened her mouth to say something when Hermione cut in.
"And thank you for bringing everyone up personally. Please, though, feel free to put someone else on the job, we'd hate to keep you from your work any longer."
Mrs. Shellhaven gave a tight-lipped smile. "How considerate, but I've cleared my schedule to see to you all today, and it's my pleasure, of course." Her smile widened, bearing her teeth. "Anything for Ginny." She turned back to the stairs, throwing a quick, "Enjoy the match," over her shoulder before disappearing down into the spiraling steps.
They stood in silence as the sound of her footsteps faded. Once they'd gone Hermione muttered, "What a vile woman."
"Do you two count as media darlings too?" Susan said, her voice light and joking but her eyes still wide, now in a darker shade of disbelief.
Neville and Hermione laughed and Harry approached from behind them. "Even if they don't I apparently do. Sorry I didn't come over before but that woman's always trying to get me to do promotions for the team, as if I played for them."
"You'd think she played for them," Hermione said. "The name suits her well enough."
"That's what Ginny says too," Harry laughed.
They exchanged all of their pleasantries then, and others from the group came over to say hello as well, and Hannah tried not to put too much stock in the fact that Neville wasn't meeting her eyes.
Her head swam a bit, overcome by the greetings and chatting and press of enthusiasm amongst all of these people she used to know so well—who, she reminded herself, she could still know so well, if only she put in the work. I made it through the birthday party, I can make it through this, she thought, grasping for any sort of strength or calm she could muster. But this was different. At the party there had been so many more people, spread out in so many rooms, with so much to occupy them. Here, all together in this enclosed space awaiting the start of the match, they only had each other to focus on. And while it was in no way a small group, it was smaller than it had been at the party, boiled down mostly to those who had made up the DA's original iteration.
It wasn't until right before the match started that Hannah found a moment to separate herself from the group and its multiple, concurrent conversations. A diversion appeared with the arrival of the Patil twins and Lavender Brown and as everyone else gathered to greet them Hannah made her escape to the buffet table. She was still clutching that bag of treats in her hand and wanted more than anything to ditch her small offerings while everyone else was distracted.
She'd just set down the second box when she noticed someone approaching.
"What'd you make?" Neville asked. He was smiling, a soft lilt to his lips that Hannah's eyes caught on for just a moment too long.
"Uh, pies," she said. She looked back at the table and opened one of the boxes. "Small ones, 'hand-pies' my Nana calls them. Half are raspberry and half apple."
He didn't say anything else so Hannah forced herself to look at him again. That smile still hung around his mouth, but his eyebrows had drawn together. It looked like he might say something when a round of laughter erupted in the group behind him and he turned to look at it. Luna had arrived and the focus had shifted onto her. Hannah could see why. Luna's long, pale hair had been piled atop her head in a messy twist, revealing two giant, sculptural earrings that were made to look like the Harpies' logo, right down to the long talons. As Hannah watched one of them even flexed, the gold coating glinting in the sun that streamed into the suite from its huge opening.
Neville cleared his throat. Hannah turned to him and found his eyes already back on her.
"How have you been?"
"Fine," she said. She wanted to kick herself for saying it. Lying to Neville felt extra wrong, and kind of pointless after all of the time they'd spent together in the last couple of months. But, then again, through all of that time interacting with him had rarely felt so stilted. She didn't know what was going wrong now. It'd been a couple of weeks since the last time that he visited the Leaky Cauldron, or her, but she hadn't thought much of it. Not until now.
Neville frowned. Hannah didn't know if it was at her brusque tone or her clipped response, or maybe if it was because he could see through it all, could tell that whatever compelled her to answer like that meant it wasn't true. She couldn't decide which reason she hoped was the real one.
He reached back to scratch at the nape of his neck. "Sorry I haven't come round lately," he said.
"Don't be, it's fine."
"That word again?"
Hannah sighed. She'd actually meant what she said that time, for whatever it was worth. Her skin crawled at the unfamiliar tension. Walls that hadn't existed before now lay between them and Hannah couldn't tell if she was more annoyed at their presence or at her inability to understand what had caused them to appear. Her gaze drifted past Neville again, to the group that was now settling into the seats. Out on the pitch the teams had appeared, flying laps around each other to the delight of the crowd. She considered that, for as close as it felt like they'd grown, most of the time that she spent with Neville had been away from other people and entirely separate from their friends.
"I'm sorry," Neville said, bringing back Hannah's attention. His frown had deepened.
Hannah shook her head. "The match is starting, we should go sit."
She walked past him before he could say anything else.
Susan had kept the seat next to her open and Hannah's body rushed with gratitude towards her for it. She sat down heavily, trying to ignore the glances of other people she'd passed. For Susan she would keep it together, but managing to keep it together didn't guarantee that she could put forward the best version of herself. She wished she could be her old self, the one who'd been so light and happy with those around her, who'd handed out kindness like it didn't cost her anything. It'd been years since she'd felt like that, though, and it felt like a foolish daydream to think of ever finding that person again now.
"Are you alright?" Susan's voice was quiet.
Hannah almost couldn't hear her over the group as it cheered for Ginny, who'd just shot past the suite in a flash of verdant robes and flaming hair. She nodded at Susan, plastering a smile on her face that she could only hope would be believable enough. Ruining this day was not an option.
Before Susan could say anything else the game got under way. Hannah appreciated the distraction. For a while she forgot everything else going on inside her mind and just cheered with her friends when the Harpies scored several early goals. Ginny herself scored three times in a row, prompting shouts from everyone in the suite, even Alicia Spinnet and Anthony Goldstein who wore shirts in support of the opposing Montrose Magpies. As good as many of the games at Hogwarts had been, Hannah had to admit that professional Quidditch was something else. She hadn't expected the game to be so much more exciting, the players all so skillful. They made the most difficult of plays look fluid and natural, as if this were some choreographed dance in the sky instead of the clash of two opposing forces.
The Harpies amassed an impressive lead and were maintaining it so steadily that the game almost got boring. Both seekers got close to the Snitch a few times, prompting shouts from everyone, but it always escaped their grasps. Ginny made an impressive play after one of the opposing beaters sent a Bludger directly at her. She managed to avoid it with a sloth-grip roll and the ball smacked one of the Magpies' chasers instead, dislodging the Quaffle from his grip. Still upside down, Ginny swept forward to catch the Quaffle before righting herself and making a quick dash across the pitch to score another goal. Their whole suite celebrated, even those who had moved over to the seating area and weren't dedicated to watching the match.
Hannah high-fived Susan and then turned to do the same with Justin. While she was looking that way Neville caught her eye from several rows down towards the front. He was celebrating with those around him too, wearing a grin that she felt reflected on her own face. She could've sworn it widened when their eyes locked. His look turned questioning and he inclined his head towards the back of the suite. Without thinking, Hannah felt herself nod.
She turned to Susan. "I'm going to get something to eat, do you want anything?"
"I'm alright," Susan said, her eyes never leaving the pitch.
Neville was already waiting for her by the snack table.
"I'm sorry about before," Neville said, "I just, I need to tell you something and it's making me a nervous git."
"Well that bodes well," Hannah said, her smile vanishing.
Neville laughed, although it didn't sound like it had much humor in it. "It's good news, I think."
For a second Hannah's mind went back to how Neville had stopped himself from speaking earlier when Luna showed up. Was that his news? Were they back together? It was a silly thought, Neville had made it clear to her before that nothing romantic remained between them, and they'd hardly even interacted that afternoon as far as Hannah had seen. She pushed those thoughts away, admonishing herself for even caring about whether or not they were together.
She pushed a smile onto her face. "Alright, what is it then?"
"I've only told a few people, because I'm not sure how permanent this is going to be, and I have you to thank really because without you I wouldn't have gone to see Professor Sprout and without her this wouldn't have happened, at all, and it's nothing to get too excited about because like I said it might only be for a bit and—"
"Neville," Hannah said, cutting through his rambling, "what are you trying to say?"
He stared at her, his eyebrows drawn together again. His cheeks had gone a shade darker, making him look as flustered as he sounded. Hannah had to resist the urge to reach out to him.
"You know Selina Sapworthy, the Herbologist? She wrote Winogrand's Wondrous Water Plants? I might be her new researcher."
"Really?" Hannah smiled despite the confusion she still felt. Was that really what this had all been about?
Neville nodded. "She's writing a new book and wanted someone to do field research for her. I'm leaving on a trip for her in a couple of days. Sprout suggested me after I saw her about my cactus, after you told me to go see her." He inclined his head towards her, looking up at her through his surprisingly full eyelashes.
Hannah's breath caught in her throat. "That's wonderful, it's perfect for you, congratulations."
"I have you to thank for this," he said, still looking at her like that.
It felt too intimate, that look. Almost loving. He couldn't have meant it that way, she was sure, he just wanted her to know how sincere his gratitude was. "Well I suppose it was my pleasure to tell you what to do," she joked.
He smiled at that, but the intensity of his gaze remained. "Hannah," he said, his voice low.
She hugged him before she could do anything more embarrassing, her jaw pressing into his shoulder as his arms encircled her too.
And then the suite descended into madness.
Out of the corner of her eye Hannah saw a blinding flash. Her mind hurtled back to battle at Hogwarts, to the flashes of spells flying all around her, the chaos of clashing magic and broken bodies in ruined parts of the castle, the smell of smoke. Her throat felt tight. The yelling that ensued didn't help, either. She tried to tell herself it had to be about the game, but the voices, so familiar from her school days, were angry and rough. She broke away from Neville, pulling her wand from her pocket as he did the same. Then she saw the rush of bodies. Ron and Dean had darted away from the group and towards the door, Harry and Seamus on their heels.
"Revelio!" Ron and Harry shouted in unison, their wands raised and aimed towards the door.
Two figures began to appear, their Disillusionment charms wearing off. There was a posh man, whose robes looked more appropriate for a business meeting than a Quidditch match, and a younger woman who held a large camera in her hands. It only took Hannah a second to realize that that must have been the source of the flash.
Neville flicked his wand, muttering under his breath as a Body-Bind curse hit both of the strangers. They hit the ground before their lower legs were even visible.
"Bloody reporters," Ron said to the room at large, a deep-set scowl on his face.
Hermione had appeared at the scene, she bent over to look at the pair of intruders. "How did they even get up here? It's supposed to be a guarded tower."
As if she'd been called by the inquiry, Mrs. Shellhaven burst through the door. "What's going on? We heard shouting." She stopped just short of stepping on the posh man. "Watch it," she snapped at the guards who followed her as they failed to stop as quickly.
"Who let them in?" Harry asked. His voice was calm but deathly serious.
Mrs. Shellhaven scoffed, "I'm sure I don't understand your question." She turned to the guards and demanded, "Well, how could they have gotten past you?"
The two wizards in their matching grey security robes sputtered answers too low for Hannah to hear, but it was clear to her from their expressions that they had no idea what had happened. Shellhaven meanwhile appeared awfully composed considering what a colossal failure had presumably just occurred.
"Well get them out!" Shellhaven shouted at the guards, who set to work removing the intruders. Harry and her exchanged more words, but Hannah turned away. She still clutched her wand tightly and she couldn't bring herself to put it away.
"Hannah?" Neville said, his voice quiet.
She looked up at him but didn't say anything, afraid that her voice would betray how shaken she felt.
Neville took a careful step closer to her. "We're okay," he said. "It's alright, it's over."
Hannah nodded, swallowing thickly.
And then Susan was at her side, throwing her arm around Hannah's shoulders so quickly it made Hannah jump. "Are you alright?" Susan asked. "Were they near you?"
"I'm fine," Hannah said. It felt like a gift that her voice didn't crack. "Just startled." She looked at Neville, her eyes pleading.
"We were talking," he explained to Susan. "And then everything happened so fast, I barely saw any of it, basically just that flash."
Hannah nodded in agreement, sending a silent thank-you to him that she could only hope he picked up on.
He seemed to, smiling gently at her and returning a single nod of his head.
Susan, for her part, shook her head as anger rolled off of her. "It's despicable that they can't give them a moment of peace. Some of the things Hermione's told me about when we talk at work is just unbelievable." She looked at Neville again. "I'm saying all of this as if it doesn't happen to you all the time too, I'm so sorry. It's just awful."
Neville shrugged, "Honestly it's just when I'm with Harry and the Weasleys, they're hounded everywhere. It's better than it used to be, though."
"They're bloody scum," Susan said, practically spitting out the words.
Hannah smiled despite herself, looking between Susan and Neville. She saw a puzzled look on the latter's face and explained, "That's one of the meanest things I've ever heard her say."
Neville laughed as Susan argued, "It's true though!"
After a bit everyone settled back into their seats, attempting to enjoy the rest of the match, even if they were a bit on edge. Hannah had followed Susan back to sit together again. It didn't take long before Neville wordlessly took the seat on her other side.
By the end of the game Hannah felt better. It was exciting to watch Ginny play so well, to be in a space with all of these people again, everyone sharing the same focus, and that focus being something less than a life-or-death situation. There was joy to be found when she could forget herself for a few moments, here and there, and just feel the same thrill as her friends. Having Susan and Neville at her sides helped. Even though she felt the few odd stares here and there, presumably relating to Neville's relocation, it lent a sense of familiarity to this otherwise strange day.
And when the Harpies finally won that evening, in a closer-than-it-should-have-been-according-to-Susan final score of 410 to 230, Hannah tried to lose herself in the revelry of her friends. What was waiting for her later in the week never left her mind. That impending anniversary was an ever-present weight around her neck that night, her grief a shadow that followed in her wake. But for that night, just that one, she tried to ignore it. She wanted to enjoy the all too rare sensation of being surrounded by people she cared about. The universe had offered her this chance at a fun time, a reprieve of sorts before the worst days of each year, and Hannah couldn't overlook that. She tried desperately to make the most of it.
Author's Note: Not gonna lie, y'all, part of me really wants them to just shut up and kiss each other already, because honestly kissing is fun to write. But I tagged this as slow burn on AO3 and gosh dang it it's going to be no matter how long it takes me to write. (Also, let's be real, no way would these two sweethearts get out of their heads enough at this point to realize they love each other.)
