Chapter 16
The dynamics of the first year Gryffindors' friendships changed over the next week. Neville wasn't just Hermione's forgetful, self-conscious shadow. They were equals. Nothing about each of their personalities or daily activities had really changed, but things were different all the same.
As mismatched and different as they all were, surviving a rampaging troll had turned them into their own little team now, and that felt good.
When the morning of Harry's first Quidditch match came, he was a mess. All of his friends and teammates urged him to eat some food, but they didn't push it when his pallor took on a hint of green. He still sat beside them through breakfast, reading his copy of Quidditch Through the Ages and trying not to hyperventilate. Professor Snape came up behind him, snatching the book out of his hands and glaring down his beak-like nose at the boy.
"Five points for getting food on a library book, Potter. A little book like this isn't going to help your chances of catching the snitch today, anyway." He smirked cruelly. "Good luck."
Limping away, Hermione and Harry both caught sight of the professor's gait.
"Did you notice the blood on Snape's leg the night the troll got in?" Harry asked, realising that he'd somehow been so preoccupied with Quidditch practice and homework that they'd never talked about it.
Hermione nodded. "I'd totally forgotten until now." Something about nearly dying at the hands of a troll had made even her forgetful.
"I've been thinking...what if he was trying to get past that three-headed dog on the third floor? What if he's trying to get at whatever it's guarding? He could have let the troll in as a distraction."
The thought made Hermione's heart sink in her chest. "I'll get back to the research. We have to figure this out."
Harry nodded as Oliver Wood came up behind him, pulling the younger boy from his seat to get suited up for the game.
When Hermione saw Harry again, he was walking out onto the field with his Nimbus 2000, far more shiny and new than anything the other players were flying. Both teams took to the air, and the first match of the season - Gryffindor vs. Slytherin - began.
The stands were decked in scarlet, gold, emerald, and silver. Hermione stood in the Gryffindor stands between Neville and Ron, cheering until her throat hurt. Harry circled around above the constant movement of the chasers, beaters, and keepers, but Hermione spared a glance for him every few minutes with her binoculars. The game was far more violent than she'd expected. She was vaguely reminded of several rugby games her father had let her watch with him before she'd decided sports were far less interesting than books in her early childhood. The Slytherin team played dirty, that was certain.
The match was tied 20-20 when Hermione looked up to check on Harry again. Hagrid noticed the strange movements at the same time she did, asking what he thought he was doing up there. She noticed that he was dancing about on his broom, being constantly flung from side to side. Confused as to why his smooth flying had been interrupted by the jagged movements, she scanned the rest of the players and the crowd, her gaze stopping only when she saw Professor Snape staring at Harry, mumbling something that looked an awful lot like a spell, not even attempting to hide his face as he did so.
Not wanting to drag Hagrid into the drama, she pulled Ron and Neville aside. "Snape's doing something to Harry's broom! I'll take care of it."
Off like a shot, she scrambled down the steps and around to the other side of the stands where the professors sat. It took her an agonizingly long moment to locate her target from beneath the stands. Staying out of sight, she muttered the first spell that came to mind, sending a bluebell flame dancing out from her wand onto the hem of Snape's soot-black robes. He was undeterred, continuing his quiet mumbling until one of the other professors yelled, "Your robes are on fire!" and started swatting at the flames to put them out. Snape and several other professors were unseated in the ruckus, and that gave Hermione the chance she needed to escape while giving Harry the chance to regain control of his broom before speeding off after the fluttering snitch.
Hermione ran to the nearest break in the stands as fast as her legs would carry her, pushed on by the sounds of the stands above her erupting with cheers and gasps every few seconds as the seekers battled for possession of the tiny winged ball.
She finally burst forth from the smothering wall of fabric and wood, eyes latching instantly onto Harry's form as he flew forward, standing on his broom handle, and stepped just a hair too far, sending himself tumbling head over heels.
Clamping a hand over her mouth, she couldn't tear her eyes away. After a long, painful moment, Harry stood, hands clenched over his mouth and stomach as if he was finally going to be ill like he'd been threatening at breakfast. Finally, he hunched forward, releasing the snitch from his mouth into his hands.
Stunned, Hermione stood in silence until she realised just what this meant. Then she screamed loud enough for her parents to hear her back home, dancing around and waving her hands in the air like her father always did when his favourite teams won.
She'd never admit it, but she decided sports might not be half bad if they were all as exciting as Quidditch.
XxxX
Hermione's research continued in earnest after a trip down to Hagrid's gave them the interesting tidbit that Fluffy - possibly the most absurd name ever imagined for a Cerberus - was guarding something dangerous that concerned Professor Dumbledore and one Nicolas Flamel. Hagrid was utterly convinced that Professor Snape couldn't have been trying to hurt Harry or get past Fluffy since he was one of the ones helping protect the mysterious object. Everything was one big contradiction, one she hoped more research would finally resolve.
Her next full moon went by as uneventfully as the first two had, and she informed Professor McGonagall that she thought she'd be fine to continue on alone and thanked her profusely for her help. It had made the transition to enduring her transformations at school much easier.
As the weather turned colder and drove everyone to stay as close as possible to the fireplaces in the common rooms and the parts of the library that had the best warming charms, Hermione noticed that Neville was spending an oddly large amount of time outside. It occurred to her that he might be avoiding her, but their friendship seemed as warm and comfortable as ever. Knowing that mentioning her concern to him came with the risk of looking like an idiot when he most likely just told her he was working on yet another Herbology project.
Merlin, did the boy love his plants.
She debated with herself over it as she made her way out to the Shrieking Shack for another full moon in early December. It was absolutely freezing, and even the beginner-level warming charm she'd cast didn't help keep the frigid winds from slicing through her coat, cloak, robes, and other layers. She was grateful for the busy thoughts that kept her from worrying about freezing to death and enduring her first transformation alone since she'd come to school.
The sight of the naked Whomping Willow brought a small smile to her face. It seemed to have a habit of swatting at anything brave (or stupid) enough to fly within hitting range, and Hermione had already borne witness to one of its snow-covered dances that sent white powder flying every which way. It's nakedness that night made her wonder just what had disturbed its peaceful slumber to cause it to shed its frosty coat this time.
What she didn't notice, in the midst of her musings, was the boy standing near the greenhouses, watching the lone figure disappear beneath the Whomping Willow with worried eyes.
XxxX
For the first time since she'd come to Hogwarts, Hermione woke up in the Shrieking Shack. She wasn't sure if it was because Professor McGonagall wasn't there to bring her up to the hospital wing, meaning she'd be in charge of getting back on her own from then on, or if she'd just woken up early enough that she has risen before anyone had time to move her.
She felt even more tired than she usually did after a transformation, and she wondered if the worry of what was going on with Neville had negatively affected her wolf. It had happened several times before, when very human concerns had caused her werewolf form to run and pace the night away, fighting at its restraints and trying to break free. This moon felt like those ones, and she tried to quiet the stubborn, worried voice that still wouldn't shut up about Neville and how something was definitely up with him.
Resolving to talk to him at her earliest convenience, Hermione sat up, feeling the charmed warming blanket she'd wrapped around herself slip down her shoulders, exposing her bare shoulders to the air. Waves of goose pimples ghosted across her flesh, and she quickly wrapped the blanket tighter around her before going to grab her clothes and wand from beneath the trapdoor.
Though the air was even colder than the night before, it felt good on her feverish skin. She slowly clambered through the tunnel and out of the door of the Whomping Willow, hoping she hadn't slept long enough that others would be out and about on the grounds. About halfway to the school, a booming voice sounded behind her, causing her to jump and nearly lose her footing on the snowy slope up to the castle.
"What're yer doin' out 'ere this time o' mornin', Hermione?" Hagrid asked. He seemed more excited to see a friendly face at an unusual hour than concerned or suspicious, so she forced her cheeks to lift in a small smile, hoping it was good enough to convince him.
"Hi, Hagrid. Just fancied an early morning walk, I suppose." She shrugged, wishing she'd thought to plan out a better alibi for her full moon activities.
"Lovely mornin', innit?" Hagrid asked, clapping her heartily on the shoulder and nearly sending her tumbling down into the snow.
Nodding, Hermione added, "The snow doesn't stay on the ground like this back home." She gestured weakly to the mounds of snow all around them, her attention stopping on the enormous fir tree Hagrid was dragging by a length of rope behind him.
"You look right tuckered out," Hagrid said, as if he'd just noticed.
Hermione was chagrined, dreading this vein of interrogation more than just about anything else in the world. "I didn't sleep very well last night. I've had some things on my mind." More like a monstrous, wolfy alter-ego making itself known last night when she should have been sleeping, but the added strain of her confusion about Neville's behaviour truly didn't help.
The half-giant looked almost scared. "Can't say I'm much fer advice, but I could give ye a ride back. I haven' done this in a month o' Sundays, o' course, but would ye like a ride up t'the school?"
Hermione wasn't sure what he meant by that, but the aches in her muscles and joints, the way her bones felt like they would crack with the least bit of exertion, caused her to nod.
"Hop on then!" Hagrid said, jerking a large thumb over his shoulder to indicate that he meant she should climb up onto the tree.
Looking at it quizzically, Hermione did as he asked, nestling between several branches and casting a Cushioning Charm, one she'd stolen from one of the more advanced Charms books in the library, and settled in. It was surprisingly comfortable with the help of magic, and she dozed peacefully as the tree made its way, swaying to and fro along the snow behind the Groundskeeper. The lack of movement when Hagrid reached the front steps woke Hermione, and she half-fell, half-climbed down from her little treetop nest, brushing snow and pine needles from her hair.
"Thanks for the ride, Hagrid," she said, offering him another weak smile.
"Would yer like ter help me set it up?" he offered, gesturing to the Great Hall where a half-dozen similarly enormous trees were already set up. Professor Flitwick and a smattering of older students stood around the room, levitating thousands of baubles, fairy lights, tinsel, charmed candles, and other decorations into place.
Hermione loved Christmas. As much as she wanted to say 'yes,' she knew she needed rest more than a morning of festivities. Shaking her head, she explained, "I think I'll go back to bed for a bit before breakfast."
Nodding, Hagrid agreed, "Yeh are still looking a might peaky. Want me ter take yeh ter the hospital wing?"
The offer was tempting, as awful as Hermione felt, but she didn't want to slow down the Groundskeepers' plans for his day any more than she already had.
"I'll be alright," she said, waving as she made her way up the first set of stairs. "Thanks for the ride!"
She made it to the hospital wing alright, though she was panting, legs quivering, by the time she plopped into the first available hospital bed. Madam Pomfrey came bustling out at the sound, clucking over her new patient and muttering under her breath that she didn't know what Professor McGonagall was playing at, leaving Hermione out there alone when there was more they could do to help.
Hermione closed her eyes, enjoying the doting care of the mediwitch. "Don't blame Professor McGonagall," she said. "It's my fault for being too stuck in my own head last night. It's not usually this bad."
Eyeing her quizzically, Madam Pomfrey continued about her work, refraining from making further comment as she dosed Hermione with potions and helped her into some pyjamas. Crawling under the covers, Hermione accepted the fact that she would be missing a day of classes due to the full moon for the first time since arriving at Hogwarts. She was a little bit frustrated with herself over it, but she knew that it was more than likely going to happen once in awhile, and she tried not to worry too much.
As her eyes were drifting closed, the hospital wing door cracked open and an exhausted Neville made his way towards Hermione. As bundled up, from head to toe, as he was, the skin that showed - namely his cheeks and nose - were bright red. Hermione wondered what had brought him outside at this hour. He nearly looked worse off than she did, and the tumult of thoughts tangling through her mind finally halted on one terrifying conclusion.
He knew.
Tears stung her eyes as she met his gaze, the emotions that were always this close to the surface this close to the full moon making his look of anxious concern too much to bear.
Instead of any of the accusations he expected to hear tumble out of his mouth, he hoarsely asked, "Are you alright?"
As worried as she'd been about their friendship of late, this proved to be too much for the young witch. Her lip trembled, and a few tears escaped. She wiped them with the sleeve of her pyjamas, shrugging weakly, not knowing what response to give.
Peeling off several layers, Neville discarded them at the foot of her bed, plopping into the nearest chair. His arrival brought Madam Pomfrey hurrying over again, this time to tut over Neville's nearly-frostbitten fingers and toes. She gave him a dose of Pepper-Up. His face got even redder by the moment as the potion worked its magic, steam coming out his ears as the liquid warmed him from head to toe.
"You're lucky there wasn't any permanent damage," Pomfrey scolded, eyeing Hermione as if to ask if the younger witch felt up to having company. Hermione nodded, smiling to give the mediwitch permission to go about her work.
They sat silently until they were alone once more, Neville anxiously fiddling with the fringe of his scarf. It looked as if he was trying to plait it, but his trembling fingers couldn't manage the task. It quickly became a knotted jumble of scarlet and gold yarn. He huffed in frustration, tossing the scarf back onto the foot of the hospital bed. Dropping his hands into his lap, his eyes finally met Hermione's again. They were filled with worry.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, and it was almost like her birthday all over again, yet this time, instead of withholding something happy from her friend, taking away from him the opportunity to celebrate with her, she had only taken away the need to worry or to fear her - and what she became one night a month. Hermione laid back against the pillows, all strength seeping from her muscles at the mere thought of even trying to explain the logic of her secret-keeping to her best friend.
"It's alright if you don't want to be friends anymore," Hermione choked out, hating the words almost as much as she hated herself for uttering them. It wasn't true, of course. The thought of enduring life at school without Neville at her side was the furthest thing from tolerable, but she'd read enough books about 'her kind' in the Hogwarts library and knew the way purebloods saw werewolves. The books she'd found did not paint a kind picture of lycanthropes.
Hermione couldn't meet his gaze after that, fully expecting him to stand, pick up his things, and go back to Gryffindor tower or down to breakfast.
But he didn't. He stayed, stubbornly sitting in silence.
After a long, harrowing moment, he cautiously reached out and grabbed her hand. His skin was still a little cold, even after the Pepper-Up Potion, against her fever-warmed skin, and the touch sent an involuntary shiver up her arm. He nearly pulled away, scared that he'd hurt her, but she strengthened her grip and held on.
The silence wasn't particularly comfortable after that, but they were both too exhausted and emotionally wrung-out to discuss the elephant - or rather, wolf - in the room. The touch of their hands clasped together was enough to calm them both down some, and Neville eventually rested his head upon his folded arms on Hermione's bed, never once releasing his hold on her.
Hermione's eyes were closed, breathing deep and even, just moments away from sleep, when Neville whispered, "I'm not going anywhere."
A/N: Heyyyy! I know it's been a while, and thank you for being patient with me! The past few months have been filled with little sleep and sick kids, so writing hasn't been the top priority, but I definitely haven't abandoned this little story of mine! Your sweet words of encouragement keep me going, and I appreciate every single review and PM! You are truly the best. Speaking of which, this fic did not end up winning a Marauder Medal, but I was awarded Runner-Up for Best Up and Coming Author and Time Traveller's Disease won Best Short Story! Prongs and the Blue Fairy Potion also won Runner-Up for Best Prongs, so yay! My readers really are the best, and I love each and every one of you. Thank you for your support. It means a lot, especially when the words aren't coming easily. I'm hoping to have the Christmas chapter up by the holidays, so keep your fingers crossed for me.
Also, I went to post this and just realized this fic now has over 500 reviews! WHAT? Is this even real life? You guys are my favorite. For reals. Thank you.
Beta love to the greatest beta EVER, Mahawna. Love ya, girl!