Chapter 2: Comfort in a Bathroom

He had not seen her since their Charms lesson that morning. Normally, it would not have been unusual to Neville, if she didn't also have two afternoon lessons with him, and that he always encountered her in the library, studying up before dinner.

Ever since arriving at Hogwarts, Neville had stuck as close to Hermione Granger as he could without being creepy about it. He quickly learned that she was a valuable ally; despite being Muggle-born, she was quickly proving to be the best in their year, in all subjects. The only one Neville thought he could compete with her in was Herbology, but he had always been fascinated by plants.

Not seeing his friend in his favorite subject had been the first red flag for him. After checking every aisle of the library, save for the Restricted Section, he knew something was wrong.

Resigned to going down to the Great Hall for dinner without her, Neville was moseying along the third floor corridor when he thought he heard what sounded like sniffling. Coming from the girls' bathroom, as his head wheeled around to track the sound.

Neville glanced furtively about him. The corridor was deserted at present; most of the other students were at dinner by now. As bravely as he dared, Neville broke the first rule of his Hogwarts career and slipped inside the bathroom meant for the opposite gender.

The door slammed shut louder than he meant it to, so that the crying abruptly halted. "Who's there?"

It was her voice. Hermione's. He'd know it anywhere. "Hermione? Are you all right?"

She yelped at the distinctly male timbre. "Neville! What are you doing in here? You're not supposed to be in the girls' bathroom!"

Neville folded into himself a little under her scolding. "I heard you crying, and no one's seen you all afternoon..." Spying her feet peeking out from under one stall, he tentatively sank to his knees by the stall and leaned against it, facing the mirrors.

The pair sat in companionable silence for a moment, no one disturbing them. At last, the boy spoke:

"What's wrong?"

Hermione sniffed. "It's that impossible Ronald Weasley! He... he called me a nightmare after I tried to teach him Wingardium Leviosa in Charms this morning!"

Neville remembered the lesson. And Ronald Weasley was equally hard to forget. Still, the alleged insult surprised him. Neville had never taken Ron to be the mean type - he certainly was no Draco Malfoy. Still, perhaps being the last in a long line of sons, the second-youngest Weasley child felt he had something to prove enough as it was. All the first years were still trying to prove themselves and perhaps Hermione had unintentionally gotten in Ron's way.

"Well..." Neville gathered a thought, based on things he had observed in primary school. "Maybe it's his way of saying he really likes you."

Hermione laughed bitterly, getting the joke. "Fat chance of that, Neville! Though you're sweet." She too recalled seeing boys in her Muggle elementary pulling on a girl's hair to get her attention.

"Did Harry say anything?" The famous Harry Potter had fallen in thick with Ron Weasley; the duo rarely left each other's sides.

"If he did, I didn't hear; I fled. Didn't want anyone to see me cry."

And why wouldn't she? Neville had to admire this about her. Hermione was a very proud person, and that would serve her well when others might attempt to tell her she didn't belong in a wizard's world. Trying to find some other way to soothe her, he entreated:

"You must be hungry. Everyone else is down at the Halloween feast. You want me to walk down there with you?"

Hermione hiccupped. "You're sweet, Neville. But you go on ahead. You're late as it is!"

Neville sighed and started to get up. A touch of his hand stopped him.

"Neville?"

"Yeah?"

"You're a good friend." And Hermione Granger squeezed his hand.