Impossible Love
Chapter Four – Apologise Like You Mean It
The apple-pie was Hogwarts' finest: a crisp, latticed pastry top, with caramelised sugar and cinnamon covering a gooey, juicy and warm apple filling and surrounded by slowly melting vanilla ice-cream. Jamie balanced the bowl on top of his Arithmancy textbook and knocked loudly on Lara's ornate bedroom door.
"What?" shouted Lara through the oak panels.
Jamie shook his head in disbelief and considered turning around, taking the delicious pie with him.
"Did you mean pardon?" Jamie enunciated clearly in his Oxfordshire accent.
He could hear Lara thudding across her bedroom and arranged his features into an expression of annoyance. Opening the door, Lara took in the sight of Jamie, looking like a waiter (not to mention the smell of the apple pie) and narrowed her eyes.
"What do you want, Burke?" she began.
"Oh that's bloody typical, that is," said Jamie with a shrug. "Here I am bringing you dessert because that midget blonde forced me to, and I get that response."
Lara relaxed her expression and gave Jamie an apologetic half-smile. Reaching out for the bowl, she gestured him into her room.
Jamie took a tentative step across the threshold. He was curious as to whether Hogwarts would still react as vehemently to a male student in a female's bedroom and braced himself to be launched down the spiral staircase. Surprising himself, nothing happened, and Jamie looked properly around Lara's room. Soft, yellow bed linen with a delicate floral motif covered the large cast iron bed. A mustard and black striped blanket draped over a rounded, velvet armchair that was positioned in front of the open window. In the corner of the room was a dressing table; its mirror festooned with white glowing flowers that winked in the gentle breeze. On Lara's bedside table was a picture, non-moving, of her and, who Jamie presumed was, her mother.
Lara sat cross-legged on the end of her bed, tucking her skirt under her knees as she began to eat the apple-pie.
"Sorry," she said, looking up at him through her thick hair that had fallen either side of her face. "I thought you'd come here to gloat -"
"What abo-"
"You know what about," Lara continued, pre-empting Jamie's interruption and motioning with her spoon for him to take a seat by the window. "Figured you'd find it hilarious that my mentor is Professor Longbottom."
Jamie laughed and then quickly stifled it when he saw Lara's outraged expression.
"Ok, I admit that it is quite funny," smirked Jamie. "But I resent the implication that I'd ever come purely to gloat."
All Lara could manage in response was a noise of incredulity as she ate a mouthful of delicious pie.
Pretty sure all you've done for 6 years is gloat, she thought to herself as she ate.
"I brought a side-order of pie with my gloating."
Jamie leant back into the velvet chair, draping an arm over the back of it. His confidence in all situations had always been one of the most irritating things about him. Lara supposed it was a consequence of being a pure-blood Slytherin whose family had ended up on the right side of the Ministry (with their influence largely intact) at the end of the Second Wizarding War. Not to mention, his athletic prowess as a star Beater. As a Muggle-born from Manchester, she didn't have anywhere near the same confidence, privilege or general wizarding life experience as Jamie.
"Why did Hestia send you up here with my favourite dessert anyway?" questioned Lara.
"This is your favourite?" Jamie said with fake interest. "I'm partial to profiteroles myself."
"Jamie."
Lara put down the spoon and folded her arms in front of her. Her patience for him, when he was in this kind of mood, was limited.
"Alright," he conceded. "I don't know. Maybe she figured it might help you get your appetite back."
"My appetite is fine."
"No, it's not."
"Yes it is," stated Lara emphatically. "I had a giant pile of roast potatoes, chicken, parsnips, gravy and some of Hestia's chips. Double potatoes isn't generally a sign of no appetite."
"But no dessert is," finished Jamie.
Lara rolled her eyes and scooped the last bit of pie onto her spoon and into her mouth. Jamie took this as a sign that it was safe to continue as she'd be unable to give him a mouthful if she had her mouth full.
"Look, I know after what happened on the train that you're embarrassed..."
Lara's eyes flashed upwards, warning him to choose his next words carefully. Embarrassed? That's a massive understatement.
"But it's not a big deal. Just say you're sorry and that's it."
Lara wished it was that simple. Thinking back to the time spent in the compartment with Professor Longbottom, she was fairly certain that Neville would have asked her to get a drink with him sometime and help him settle in as a member of staff. To make matters worse, she knew that she wanted to get to know him further too. Obviously. Why else would she impersonate a professor? There was just something in his eyes that made her feel like she wanted her clothes to melt in a puddle at her feet. Definitely inappropriate thoughts to be having.
"Besides," Jamie continued. "He's a teacher. He's used to us lot doing stupid things. I'm sure he's probably already forgotten about it."
Jamie stood up and made his way towards the door. Lara sat on her bed, staring down at her hands – her mind deep in thought.
Maybe he has forgotten about it? Maybe I've imagined something that wasn't actually there? Maybe I'm a delusional witch to even think that he was flirting with me? Lara felt a surge of disappointment at the prospect.
A creature of habit … Jamie couldn't resist a parting shot at his long-time target.
"Well night night, Professor Hepworth," called Jamie from doorway.
Lara clenched her fists and took a deep breath.
"I hope you fall down those stairs, Burke."
It was early evening on the first Friday back, and the Library was relatively quiet as most students hadn't received much homework yet. Lara was on duty, ensuring students stayed quiet and got to their common rooms on time. With a flick of her wand, she levitated a pile of books that had been left on a table and sent them flying back to their shelves.
Noticing a first year Slytherin about to leave a pile of Quidditch textbooks on their table, Lara strode over.
"Those need putting away," she stated simply.
"I've just seen you put some away with your wand," said the Slytherin girl, flicking her plaits behind her.
"And it's not her job to clear up after you, you little snake," Hestia rounded the corner, ponytail swinging, and glared at the first year.
"Hestia, leave it," Lara warned with a smile.
Lara turned her attention back to the arrogant 11-year-old in front of her.
"Put them away yourself. Otherwise you'll start off your time at Hogwarts by losing your house 5 points," said Lara calmly but firmly.
Eyes widening in fear, the first year collected the books and scurried off down the aisles.
"Honestly," Hestia started. "You have this power and you definitely don't use it enough."
Lara rarely felt the need to deduct points from other students. They generally weren't horrific and the threat of taking points off them would usually suffice. She continued to patrol the Library with Hestia alongside her.
"What's up?" Lara questioned – Hestia only came in the Library when homework got particularly bad.
"Ahhh, yeah about that…"
Hestia looked shiftily down to her feet as the pause lengthened between the two friends. Lara broke the silence.
"What is it?"
"Professor Longbottom wants to see you in his office in an hour for your first meeting with him," Hestia blurted out in one breath. "He asked me to pass the message on."
Shit.
The floor of Lara's bedroom was strewn with discarded clothes. She had finished her Library duty, practically skidded through the corridors back to the fifth floor and her room and had proceeded to empty her wardrobe. The skinny indigo jeans, which had been a weekend staple last year, had been the first casualty. Working up a slight sweat trying to wiggle in to them, Lara was frustrated to find they were an inch off fastening. She'd spent most of the summer in cute floaty dresses, so hadn't realised how much her hips (or more likely arse) had grown. Next on the reject pile was a forest green turtle-neck knitted dress: too hot and too Slytherin. The black capris were lovely, but every top that Lara wanted to wear with them seemed to show too much cleavage off.
Lara looked at her final outfit in the mirror. She'd settled on a mustard full skirt with white polka dots, a white broderie anglaise sleeveless blouse, tan belt and tan ballet flats. The skirt skimmed over her hips and stopped at her knees, and the top didn't strain the buttons over her chest. Modest and 100 percent appropriate had been her intention. She'd wished she could have worn the black lace midi dress that had driven Rick (the Muggle drummer / mechanic) wild over the summer, but the combination of off-the-shoulder with a thigh-high slit probably wasn't advisable.
Adding a swipe of strawberry lip balm, Lara left her room. Jamie was at Quidditch practice mercifully, so she didn't have to face his sarcastic comments on her way out.
Lara was soon outside making her way down to the greenhouses and Professor Longbottom's office. The sun was setting, and a few sixth and seventh years were still lazing by the Great Lake. Sounds of distant shouts for a quaffle could be heard on the breeze. It was a typically perfect Hogwarts evening, and, despite her feelings of nervousness, Lara was pleased to be back.
Herbology had never been Lara's speciality, and this was the first occasion she'd had to visit the professor's office. It was in the furthest greenhouse, and its windows were so filled with plants that Lara could barely see inside. Locating the door, Lara found it was slightly ajar, so she knocked and stepped inside.
It seemed like there were plants on every available surface: lining the windowsills, on the large desk at the end of the room, on the bookcase. Half the plants, exotic and bizarre, were unrecognisable to Lara, and she struggled to even find Neville amongst the jungle.
Lara's eyes were drawn to a movement close to the far wall. Neville was bent over repotting a small Fanged Geranium, and all Lara could do was stare at his tight khaki trousers.
Sweet baby Merlin. He should not be allowed to look like that.
She moved closer and prepared to clear her throat to alert him to her presence. Before she was able to, Lara managed to kick an empty plant pot, sending it rolling towards Neville.
"Bloody hell," said Neville, straightening himself up. "I didn't realise you were here."
Turning around fully, Neville wiped his hands on the side of his trousers. He was wearing khaki trousers and a brown check shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. The top two buttons of his shirt were unfastened, revealing a peek of dark chest hair.
"Oh, erm, sorry," stumbled Lara. "Is now not a good time? Hestia said you wanted -"
"No, no, it's fine. Just made me jump. Do you want a drink?"
Lara shook her head. A drink would have been nice, but she didn't want to prolong the meeting in fear of awkwardness.
"No? Right, let's sit down then," he said.
Neville strode towards the desk and grabbed a wooden chair from the side of the room, positioning it in front of his desk for Lara to sit on. She did so, and Neville took his seat opposite whilst rifling through some papers on his desk to find parchment and a quill.
"Right, Lara," said Neville making eye contact with her before hastily looking back to his parchment. "It'll help me to come up with some placement suggestions if you tell me a bit about your interests. Professor Weasley says you're quite good at Defence Against the Dark Arts? Perhaps something in that field?"
Neville looked expectantly at Lara. She felt both relief and displeasure that he hadn't mentioned their first meeting.
"I wouldn't say that's my favourite subject," replied Lara slowly.
"So you don't fancy a placement with the aurors? I know a couple of them, so could probably sort it."
Even I know which aurors you're on about there, Lara thought to herself.
"It's not really my cup of tea. Death and danger and all that," she said with a smile.
Neville laughed. Whilst he never actively sought danger, he'd been involved in a fair share himself when he was Lara's age.
"Ok, that's a 'no' to working with Harry then," said Neville holding her gaze. "You tell me what you want instead…"
Lara involuntarily blushed. She wanted a number of things, but she doubted that was what he was referring to.
"My favourite subject is Ancient Runes," Lara began explaining. "If possible, something in that field would be amazing."
Neville jotted down a couple of points on his parchment.
"So it's a no to death and danger, but a yes to the already dead?"
"I guess so," replied Lara laughing. "Do you think I'd be able to?"
Lara leaned forward unable to repress her eagerness; Neville tapped his quill on the parchment.
"Leave it with me. I'll have a think and we can discuss it further next time?" said Neville.
Nodding her assent, Lara rose from her seat and smoothed her skirt. Neville took the cue and stood as well, walking around his desk towards her.
"I'll show you out."
The silence was awkward as they walked towards the door. It felt as if now the meeting had finished, everything else between them suddenly came to the surface. Neville reached for the door knob, opening the door towards him. He stood stiffly to one side so Lara could get past him.
Careful not to touch him, Lara walked through the threshold towards the darkening grounds. She abruptly stopped and turned around, nearly bumping into Neville who was close behind.
"Neville – I mean Professor – I just wanted to say, I'm sorry about what happened on the train," said Lara quickly.
"You don't need to -"
"I do. I don't know why I didn't correct you," Lie. I know precisely why I didn't.
"It's fine. I mean, I was pretty thick to think -"
"No, you weren't -"
"I was," stated Neville. "It should have been obvious, but I got caught up…"
Lara wondered what Neville would say next, but he didn't finish the sentence. Instead, he changed the subject.
"I'll be in touch soon about our next meeting. Night, Lara."
"Night," she responded quietly, before heading back towards the castle in the advancing dusk.