Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. Anything you don't recognize belongs to me. Also, the play Othello belongs to William Shakespeare.
Note: In this chapter a character does indulge in some alcohol, however they are of age. If you are offended please do not read on. Thank you.
Chapter 2: Sangria Saturday (The First Date)
It was a rather terrible morning. It didn't make the top three worst days of Neville Longbottom's life. The first being when he understood what exactly had happened to his parents, the second when he saw Professor Snape as his boggart and the third being the battle of Hogwarts when he was convinced Harry Potter was dead and the world was going to succumb to doom.
No, this had to be Neville's fourth worst day of his life and it wasn't because of the terrible hangover or the ache in his neck and back that made him hunch over for a few hours that day, no, it was because of the letter he found on the floor that made everything come crashing down around him.
Of course, Neville had to wake-up first for everything to come crashing down and his wake-up call came in the form of one Augusta Longbottom.
Augusta, or Gran, a woman of a certain age and rather hefty did the only sensible thing she could do when she walked down the stairs and into her kitchen. Her body ached with each step she took and she had to take a few deep breaths as she reached her grandson who was snoring quite loudly, his saliva coating her wooden table.
Augusta pulled out her wand from her robe pocket, mumbled a spell very quietly and grabbed the cow bell that now hung near her raised wand, with her free hand she gripped it, paused and then, as if it was an after thought, shook the bell quickly.
Neville jumped.
He groaned. He flailed his arms around a bit and nearly stumbled right out of his chair as he tried to search for his wand but then decided to instead smack his hands on his ears. If he was going to go up against a banshee or a mandrake plant he would at least die with some dignity. As a second thought he fell out of his chair (on purpose of course) and hugged his knees to his chest. He was hoping his hiding spot would make the loud noise go away.
It was an unbearable, ding, ding, ding. He was sure his head was going to split open and his brain or whatever was up there was going to fall out and crawl away to safety.
"Blerrrgh," was the first thing Neville said. The ringing stopped as a figure crouched over him in pain and eyed him with displeasure. "G..Gran? You're a….you're a silly monkey," he mumbled, eyeing her with displeasure in return.
Gran shook her head and smiled at her odd grandson. "Get off the floor Neville. I'll get the hangover potion. Hopefully we still have some left or else you'll have to deal with this the Muggle way. How unfortunate that would be for you," she said with a hint of sarcasm.
He didn't say anything but made a noise as if he was some sort of rabid animal because in truth it would be very unfortunate if he didn't get a hangover potion. He wouldn't be able to function. He mentally told himself he would never drink again.
Augusta left and came back in what felt like an hour later (really it was only two minutes) and shoved a vial of green liquid at Neville. He eyed it dangerously and smelled it, nearly vomiting. It smelled like toes as he tipped it into his mouth. It took every part of him to not spit it out. It tasted like toilet water (or what he imagined toilet water tasted like).
The effect was instant. His head cleared right away and after two seconds he felt like he could think and breathe again. His neck and back still hurt so he slowly peeled himself from the kitchen floor, sending a cheeky grin to the wrinkly woman that was still eyeing him.
"That's the ticket Gran, much better, much better. I swear, I'm never drinking again. It's strictly tea and butterbeer from now on."
Augusta shook her head. "I'd believe you Neville if you didn't say it every time your little friends came over."
He grinned sheepishly and shrugged. "Sorry Gran. It's all Harry's fault…or Dean's? I really can't remember."
She rolled her eyes and turned away from him and set her sight on the stove. "I've stopped guessing months ago," she mumbled to herself and then loudly said, "I'll get breakfast ready. Why don't you shower? You smell terrible and you look just as bad."
"I smell like man," he grumbled.
Augusta ignored him and busied herself by rummaging through the pantry for some food. "It's your own fault. Sometimes I wonder Neville…sometimes I wonder…did you even eat anything yesterday?"
He paused to ponder her question and properly sniff himself. "I want to say spiders for some reason," he mused, "but that just sounds odd. Toast? Do we have any toast? Merlin," he said, sniffing himself again, "I do smell bad. Did I go tumbling around in the rubbish again?"
"Not that I know of," answered Augusta who was pulling out some slices of bread and swishing her wand around to crack some eggs. "It wouldn't be the first time. You can barely feed yourself…how are you ever going to take care of someone else…"
"I feed myself just fine and I can take care of plenty of people. I take care of you. Don't I?" he grumbled. Neville wasn't waiting for an answer though. He kept sniffing his armpit trying to recall what he did yesterday. Did they go through the rubbish again? Last time Harry had suggested it. Something about liberation…being a man…smelling like a man….Harry had gone home with a terrible rash that night.
Or did they try to make their own potion again? No, Seamus wasn't there last night. Usually he was the one that wanted to create things, foods, drinks, and potions. It always ended up badly in their drunken state (not that any of them were actually good at potion making) and they usually ended up with slime on their bodies and no eyebrows.
"Oh," Augusta continued, "you take care of me alright. How about that animal of yours?" she questioned.
Neville furrowed his brow. "What animal? Oh Merlin, oh no!" he whispered to himself with worry. "Not Trevor. I haven't fed Trevor. Where is Trevor?"
She shook her head again and pursed her lips because her point was proven. "You'd lose your head if it wasn't attached to your body."
"Why did Uncle Algie have to give me that damn toad?" he mumbled, calling out for Trevor.
"Watch your language," Augusta said crisply.
"Sorry Gran. I'm going to shower. Yes, that sounds about right…shower, feed Trevor, my list of things to do." He got up from his seat and achingly started to walk out of the kitchen. His smell was starting to give him a headache and the thought of a starving Trevor was making his stomach feel queasy.
"Neville," Augusta called out, carefully placing some bacon on a frying pan. It sizzled and the smell of the food wafted into her nose making her salivate. "Why is there parchment stuck to the bottom of your trainers?"
Neville looked down to the floor and to his dirty trainers. He bent down and removed the parchment from his trainer and shrugged his shoulders. "What's this? I didn't write any letters yesterday…"
Food forgotten, Augusta walked over to her grandson with a new found energy. Her cheeks were pink and she snatched the parchment from his hands. "Going through my letters again Neville? What does this even mean," she questioned, skimming the words quickly, "anon? Wench?"
Neville's eyes popped open.
"Give that to me! Give that to me right now Gran!" he shouted. He snatched the letter from her grip and read it twice. His heart started to beat in his chest at a rapid unnatural pace, his hands felt clammy and all color left his cheeks.
"Sending letters to some tramp…my nephew everyone…where did I go wrong?" she said. She ignored the pale complexion of Neville and walked back towards the breakfast she was supposed to be cooking.
"Oh no! Oh no!" shouted Neville again and again. "Ron Weasley is so dead!"
"I'll blame him for everything then," said Augusta with a grin. She turned a piece of bacon over and then turned her neck to eye Neville. "What's the matter then? Tell your Gran."
"I have a date Gran," he said rather gloomily, "with Hannah Abbot."
Augusta smiled and nodded her approval. "You finally plucked up the courage then? Well, she's a respectable young lady even though she does work in a filthy bar."
"She works in the Leaky Cauldron and that's not important! I'm going out Gran," he said quickly.
"What about your breakfast? And shower! They're going to say I don't take care of you Neville…"
He threw his hand in the air and quickly rushed to the front door. "No time Gran! I need to murder a redhead!"
"If you're going to drop by someone's house unannounced at least bring them some cookies and then go on with your murdering!" she shouted. Neville was already gone as she rushed to get a plate and throw some stale cookies on it. "Oh!" she grumpily mumbled to herself. "Silly monkey…honestly! Oh! Don't forget to feed Trevor…I have to do everything around here!"
-x-
"Who's knocking on the door! Do you know what time it is?!" Ron Weasley shouted with pain. He groaned and placed his hands on his ears as Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes at her fiancé.
"I'll get it. You just sit around all day complaining about a hangover you don't have anymore."
Ron ignored her statement and the anger in her voice. Hermione had not been happy that he had shown up drunk out of his mind. He had kept calling her Mione, a nickname they both hated and when she had blown up at him and demanded he go to sleep, he said something along the lines of 'Mum would never treat me like this,' which only brought on another argument (which he quickly passed out for).
"If it's a rogue Death Eater or a follower of Voldemort tell them to come back later. Must…sleep!" He yelled loudly. Dramatically, even though no one was in the bedroom, he flopped down on the bed and groaned loudly.
Hermione quickly rushed to the front door, grumbling under her breath about Weasley's and Azkaban. She angrily pulled the door open and glared at the person that was twiddling their thumbs with nervousness and sheepishly grinning at her.
"Neville?" Hermione questioned loudly.
It seemed Ron, who was supposed to be tired, had rushed into the kitchen and said loudly, "Where is he! Where is he! I'll kill him!"
"Ron!" Hermione grumbled under her breath. She tapped her foot impatiently and then let Neville into her home. "Do you know what he did last night?" she questioned him quickly. "Do you?"
Nervously, Neville shook his head. He knew better than to get into a fight between Hermione and Ron. They were always foolish and ended poorly on Ron's end. He was always hiding off at his parent's house until Hermione cooled down and apologized. Though, that would normally take a week or two and he always ended up in a bookstore somehow.
"Ron!" Neville shouted, regaining his composure. "Do you know what happened last night!" Neville eyed Hermione and asked her the same question, his blood boiling.
"No. I don't know what happened last night. I'm surrounded by idiots," she mumbled the last part to herself. "I would love to find out! Came stumbling around the house at an ungodly hour and had hair in his mouth. Then he started screaming about eating spiders."
"Where is he!" shouted Neville.
"Will you calm down!" demanded Hermione in return. She eyed Neville who was shaking and punching his hand with anger. The fight with her fiancé was quickly forgotten as Neville paced the room.
"RON!" he yelled. "RON!"
"It's too early for visitors!" Ron shouted back wearily. Inside the kitchen, concealed from the two, he was pouring himself a glass of pumpkin juice and rummaging through the food pantry for some food. "Go home!"
"I'll kill you! That's what I'm going to do! It's your fault too Hermione," he said, pointing an accusing finger in her direction. Hermione turned red and nervously fingered her wand. "Why would you ever read to him? She's going to think I think she's a scarlet woman."
Hermione bit her lip and stared at him with confusion. "A scarlet woman?" she questioned.
"Yes! Your bloody fiancé with his Shakey language, he's not welcome in my house anymore!"
"Shakey language?" questioned Hermione again.
"What's with all the yelling!" yelled Ron. "Oh, hello Neville." Ron's blue eyes targeted Neville's brown ones and the two stared at each other for two seconds. They both reeked (noted Hermione) and appeared to be in a disheveled state.
"You idiot! Do you know what this is?" Neville waved a piece of parchment in the air for the two to see. Ron shrugged his shoulders and Hermione eyed Neville with confusion. She was wondering if he had lost his mind and if she should alert St. Mungo's.
"A piece of parchment?" Hermione responded for Ron.
It was the wrong answer. Neville gritted his teeth and lunged towards Ron with a wild-eyed look. "It's…ahhhh!"
"Neville," Hermione yelled, grabbing him by the collar, "stop shaking Ron!"
He let go of Ron who felt woozy and was stumbling around the room away from Neville who was breathing heavily and watching his every move. "Do you remember anything from last night?"
Ron shook his head and pursed his lips together. "It's all foggy," he said, guiltily. "I remember Harry…no, Seamus? Or was that Dean? No, Seamus was with his girlfriend, right?"
"Seamus doesn't have a girlfriend!" Neville protested.
"Yes he does. Dean said so. He was with the old 'ball and chain.'"
"That's crude," mumbled Hermione.
Neville shook his head. "He was searching for balls and oiling chains. That's not important! I sent Hannah a love note. One written by you because of you with anon's and wenches and now I have a date with her. A date because I told her I anoned her or something. What the hell does that even mean?"
Ron shrugged and walked towards the glass table in the middle of the room, sitting down on it. He clapped his hands together and grinned. "I don't know but it sounds bloody romantic."
"It means soon…shortly," Hermione answered. She was giving Ron an odd look (she was secretly happy that he did pay attention to the books she read to him) and then set her sight on Neville who looked like he was about to vomit all over her white carpet. "You're going on a date with Hannah Abbot?"
"That actually worked?" asked Ron, who was grinning from ear to ear. He felt like he should pat himself on the back. The night was coming back to him now and his ridiculous note was making him chuckle. "You should be hugging me…ugh, what is this taste in my mouth?" He groaned and placed his hand in his mouth, pulling out pieces of dark brown hair. "Why are there pieces of hair in my mouth?"
"I'll get some water. Idiots…both idiots…" Hermione said to herself.
"What's that, Hermione?"
"Love you dear!" she yelled back, rushing towards the kitchen.
With Hermione out of the way, Neville took a seat next to Ron on the glass table. The two shook their legs in the same tempo and stared at each other, Neville had a sour expression on his face while Ron was still grinning.
"Ron, I can't believe this. How can I go on a date with her? I called her a wench and if she likes that then how am I going to keep it up?"
Ron paused to think over what Neville was saying. His eyes fell on the white carpet that Neville's dirty trainers were leaving stains on. Hermione would definitely have his head for it later. He wondered if he could go on Neville's date with him. It would be safer than the wrath of germaphobe Hermione Granger.
"Well first I'd advise you to shower because you reek and secondly you've come to the master. I'm the love healer. I'm great at relationships."
Neville scoffed. "You've only ever had two." Though it was two more than he had ever had.
"That's why I'm so great," Ron snapped. "You're supposed to be smart Neville, come on. Let's discuss this before Hermione comes back. She likes to think she's so knowledgeable about everything but she knows nothing about women."
Neville scratched his head and stared at Ron with confusion. "But she's a woman—"
"Exactly," he said, cutting Neville off, "they know nothing about themselves. Now, do you want my advice or not?"
Neville shrugged. "I suppose." He didn't have anyone else to go to. Trevor was missing and Neville was sure that Harry didn't spend his time reading muggle literature.
"Alright then. First, you need to shower—"
"I couldn't agree more. What the hell did I do last night?"
Ron shook his head. "I ask myself the same thing. Then you're going to get all dressed up, real dapper, you know? Comb your hair, slick it back with some gel. You don't want to resemble Harry. You need to look debonair."
Neville paused in shock. Since when did Ron know words like debonair? He wasn't entirely sure what debonair actually meant but Ron seemed to be giving him some solid advice.
"What are you two discussing in there! Don't ask him for any more advice Neville!" warned Hermione from the kitchen.
Ron rolled his eyes and elbowed Neville with a grin. "Of course not dear! I know nothing about relationships," he shouted back to Hermione. "See?" Ron whispered to Neville. "I know just how to please her. Act dumb. That's some more advice but you're not ready for that phase yet."
Neville was sure he had perfected that phase.
"Yes, but—"
"Don't interrupt me when I'm speaking Neville and don't do that to her either." Neville shut his mouth to listen to Ron. "Now, here's the big thing. Compliment her. Even if she's wearing some hideous brown pants suit with a matching hat….don't ask….don't say you look like dirt sweetheart. You might end up sleeping downstairs for a week without any blankets and no fancy cooked breakfast." Neville made to open his mouth to point out that he lived with his Gran and not Hannah but Ron interrupted him again. "I said don't interrupt me Neville. So, what was I saying? Be a gentleman," he added as an after thought, "but don't give up all your good traits on one date because then she'll be really disappointed by the next one."
Neville stared at Ron with fascination. "How do you know all these things?"
"Witch Weekly of course. Don't you read Neville?"
"I," he wanted to say yes but it was obvious that would be a lie. So instead he said, "What if she wants more of that anon rubbish?"
Ron nodded his head to soak up what Neville was saying. He tapped his finger to his chin and then quickly got up from where he was seated and walked over to one of the bookcases that were in the room, in total there were four in the room they were in. He pulled out a book after searching for it and rushed back towards Neville who was squinting his eyes to read the title.
"Here, this is one of Hermione's Shakey copies." The book was old, the cover was bent slightly and there was writing on it that said, 'Property of Hermione Granger, age 10.' It was obvious the book had been read several times.
"Othello?" questioned Neville.
"A great love story," assured Ron. "It's about this guy and this other guy and they're really good mates and they're both married but…well, should I ruin it for you?" Neville nodded his head. "Alright then…so, this guy…his name is Igor and he's friends with Othello and he's in love with Othello's wife…her name is Mona but that's not important," Ron scratched his head trying to recall what happened in the play. He was certain there was an Irish jig someplace in between but he didn't remember why there was an Irish jig and figured he should just leave that piece of entertainment out. "The main point is that Igor really respects women. I'd read up on his lines if I were you. Now, don't get the book messed up, don't even crease a page. Hermione will know and it'll be my head on a silver platter for Christmas."
Neville nodded and shoved the book in his trouser pocket haphazardly. "Got it."
Once the book was away Hermione walked back into the room with two bright blue cups of steaming tea and one glass of water. She bit her lip as Neville and Ron stared at her with innocent smiles on their faces. Neville rushed to get up from his spot and towards their fireplace.
"Here's the tea. Neville, leaving so soon? I thought I'd give you some proper advice for your date." She emphasized proper and gave Ron a steely glace who whistled innocently in response.
"Oh no, thanks Hermione but I have to be off. Gran said something about wanting cookies. I think I have all the advice I can handle." The floo powder was in his hand and he was standing in the fireplace. The hidden book was burning a hole in his pocket and he was sure Hermione knew it was there.
"But Neville, wait…just remember this…be yourself. That's all she wants."
Neville nodded his head and gave her an uneasy smile. "Right Hermione, right. I'll be off then. Enjoy your tea."
-x-
"Just channel Ron, just channel Ron. I'll murder him if this date goes bad," mumbled Neville to himself. He opened the door and walked straight into the Leaky Cauldron. His eyes quickly searched for Hannah. Just thinking her name put Neville on edge and made him perspire.
"Hello there Neville," a voice croaked behind him.
Neville turned on his spot, fumbling with his blue tie and eyeing Tom with nervousness. Tom, the landlord, eyed Neville with tired eyes and an amused expression on his face.
"Hello Tom. Good morrow…I'm here for Hannah," said Neville. He leaned towards the bar stool he was near and sighed with relief that he hadn't yet fallen to the floor and fainted.
Tom nodded his head, he was a little hunched over and holding his back with a frail hand. "Ah yes, your date. I heard all about your letter. Very interesting indeed."
Neville turned red and groaned mentally. "Don't you have tables to clean? Guests to seek?"
Tom paused. He didn't say anything but he could tell that Neville was angry by his remark. He didn't have the old fighting spirit in him anymore. Normally he would have taken out his wand and hexed a young person if they spoke to him like that. Instead he just nodded his head and creakily walked off.
"I'll never understand today's youth," he grumbled to himself.
As he walked away a blonde head popped out from behind the bar making Neville jump.
"Hello, Neville! I'll be just a second!" she shouted loudly. There was no reason to shout. There were only three other people in the room who were eating quietly in the corner and Neville wondered why in the world they were wearing coconut bras and grass skirts. He also looked back at Tom who was also wearing a coconut bra and a grass skirt.
"Good day Hannah!"
Hannah rushed out from behind the bar and tucked a loose piece of blonde hair behind her ear. Her hair was a mess, her apron was covered with food and she was sweating as she took a seat next to Neville.
"Evening Neville, are you ready for dinner? I'm absolutely starved," she patted her stomach to make a point, "Ernie came round today and wouldn't stop shoving a delicious smelling pie under my nose. It was tempting but I stopped myself. Where would you like to go?" In true Hannah fashion she spoke quickly while doing other things at the same time. She was fidgeting with the elastic in her hair with one hand while wiping the counter down with another and setting her eyes on Neville the entire time she spoke with a big smile.
Neville suddenly felt like the room was on fire and he nervously loosened his tie and patted his head forgetting that he had used an entire bottle of gel to keep it slicked back.
It felt like a rock underneath his hand.
"Err…" He hadn't thought about where they would go. He had spent his entire day searching for Trevor and practicing the language of Shakey. "I…well…where would you like to…hie?" He was pretty sure 'hie,' meant go. Unless of course thy meant to go. He hoped hie didn't mean anything too bad.
"Well, it's a good thing I'm knowledgeable on all the food in Diagon Alley but I have to say we serve the best food. Do you mind eating here? I'll feel bad leaving Tom on such short notice. He…well, he has trouble walking, picking up things…remembering," she whispered the last part in his ear and Neville felt a wave of nausea overcome him.
"Course not, course not. That sounds lovely. Lead the way then…your ears look lovely?" Ron had said to compliment her. He didn't say how to compliment her. Her small ears did look rather lovely, clean, he always appreciated a clean lovely ear.
Hannah blushed. "I'll have to thank my parents for that one, you know, genetics."
"Of course." He felt stupid and cursed himself mentally. Why was this so hard? Where did all his confidence go? He was so close to getting the girl. So close!
"Pray, you saucy ho," Neville turned a deep shade of red as the words stumbled out of his mouth. Pray, you saucy ho? He quickly pulled out the parchment he had written down of some of the words in the book to see if he was making any sense. According to his handwriting, pray was a way to ask something, ho meant 'hey' and saucy meant 'sassy'.
Of course to the outside word he had just called Hannah a 'saucy ho.' He thanked Merlin that every other person in there wasn't paying attention. Neither was Hannah who was removing her apron and rushing back behind the bar.
"We have a bit of a theme going on tonight," she said quickly. "It was all my idea. We're trying to integrate some Muggle themes into here since we're sort of struggling to stay out of the red zone. Apparently in Muggle bars…"
Neville wasn't sure where the red zone was but he also wasn't comfortable wearing a coconut bra. Hannah kept jabbering on and handed him one from behind the counter and Neville idiotically put it on over his shirt. She also handed him a grass skirt and a red lei while pointing out her festive decorations that consisted of a bobbly headed swaying girl with a coconut bra, grass skirt and a ukulele or some sort of instrument in her arms. Also, she pointed to the small sign that said, 'Welcome to the Leaky's Hawaiian Luau.' Neville wasn't sure what that was but he nodded his head as if he did while really, he was eyeing Hannah's chest in her tight black top.
"It's nice. Err…really nice. The decorations."
She smiled at him and reached for a glass and started pouring a pink colored drink inside of it. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke to him, "Want a drink then? It's Sangria Saturday. I'm pretty sure it's a Hawaiian drink."
"Sangria Saturday?" he questioned to himself. He eyed the hula girl with the bobble head, the coconut bra wearing Tom and the other patrons that were eating and fingering their grass skirts. Hannah was leaning over him and he arched his brow to get a good look at her chest and the strap of her blood red bra.
"It's a Muggle drink. Don't be shy Neville," she added a small blue umbrella to the drink and pushed it towards him. "One drink won't hurt you. I'll pour you a glass of water as well."
Neville wasn't sure if drinking would be the best thing for their date but he nodded his head. He didn't want to offend her. So he took a daring sip of the delicious fruity drink and after another sip, gulped the entire thing down.
Hannah idly poured some more into his cup and grinned. Her smile made Neville's head feel woozy. The drink was quickly clouding his vision as she kept pouring and talking while he drank and let his ears listen to her stories while his eyes stared at her chest. He was really thinking about Othello and Igor, battling it out over a woman or whatever it was that they were fighting about in the play. Maybe it was figs, he really couldn't remember.
"The best drink I've ever had," he said to Hannah's chest. She didn't notice, if she did, she didn't care that he wasn't speaking to her directly.
Behind Neville, Tom shook his head as Neville turned a rosy red color.
Neville knew before he brought the fourth glass to his lips that he shouldn't have been drinking. How could he channel his inner Ron/Igor if he was under the influence of alcohol? He was certain that the fruity drunk with an umbrella would do no harm to him.
After his fourth drink Neville found out he was wrong. Well, he didn't notice he was wrong but he would the next day after he battled his Gran for a hangover potion and grudgingly agreed to not drink again (of course Neville and his grandmother both knew it wouldn't last long).
Neville wasn't an alcoholic. On the contrary, save for boys' night out he never drank. This was a special occasion and his nerves had gotten the better of him.
With Shakey language forgotten, a green umbrella tucked behind his ear and a coconut bra on his chest, Neville boldly asked Hannah to dance in the middle of the empty Leaky Cauldron.
She giggled and swayed under his grip as Neville grinned at her and stumbled on his feet, lost in her eyes for once.
"Neville, I think you're a bit drunk," she whispered with a giggle.
"Fie you wench! For I am not drunk but devouring you—"
Hannah laughed. Neville always said the oddest things to her. She brushed off the 'wench' part of his sentence and swatted his hand from the glass he was reaching for.
"You're devouring that drink. Honestly, I was a bit surprised you wanted to have dinner. It always seems you have a problem with me Neville," she whispered. Her eyes stared at the hula girl, the head bobbing as she thought back to the odd conversations that they usually had. "Never talk that much but the letter, it was such odd language. What does anon mean anyway?"
Neville wasn't listening to her. The bar of the Leaky Cauldron was closed by now. The others had left for their beds and even Tom had left for his room (after suggesting to Hannah that she leave Neville outside to sober up and find his own way home). The bar was dimly lit, he could barely make her out in the shadows, especially with the black attire she was wearing. Her hair though, seemed to glow and he felt like patting it.
"Your lips are like cherries and your hair is like bread," he whispered.
Hannah grinned. "Thanks for that Neville. I suppose you don't understand what I'm saying to you."
"I understand plenty," he said, poking her nose.
"Perhaps I should get you some bread to soak up all that alcohol in your stomach. Oh Neville, I'm glad you came out tonight and that we really are such good friends. It's nice to have dinner and drinks…or well, to not have dinner and to look after your friend who gets drunk. Your Gran is going to kill me."
Neville didn't say anything but he was reeling inside. He couldn't get over the word she had used, friend. No, he wanted to be more than friends. He wanted to throw her over his shoulder and stumble off into the sunset with her draped over his body while he wore a toga or something spectacular that signaled to everyone that they were in love and meant to be together.
He wanted to buy a ring and get down on one knee and propose to her. No, he didn't even need a ring. A piece of string, a lock of hair, whatever, he would use to show just how much he was serious about her because Neville was pretty sure he 'anoned' her and anoning someone was the highest level of affection in his books at the moment.
"I'm going to dazzle you with my dancing skills," he said. He then proceeded to growl and flap his arms in the air then he clucked like a chicken.
"Oh dear," said Hannah, giggling nervously, "watch out for that window…Neville!"
Neville was lucky that he was so drunk. He would feel the pain tomorrow morning and Tom would grumpily tell Hannah, "Very unfortunate, very unfortunate indeed. An odd boy that Longbottom is but being raised by a vulture hat wearing woman…he was bound to be an awkward person. I'm getting too old for this. Much too old for this."
Hannah grumbled as she went to go fish out Neville from the broken glass and she would grumble again at Tom's remark.
-x-
It was a struggle to get Neville free from the rubbish outside. Thankfully, he had fallen right into their trash bins and now smelled like raw meat. It took Hannah awhile to help steady him on his feet and walk him towards the direction of his house (which was a long walk for a girl that had been on her feet all day). The Knight Bus was a fleeting decision because she was sure that the driver would not appreciate the vomit of Neville Longbottom (her shoes didn't). She was also positive that she would splinch the two because he wouldn't stop fidgeting under her grip, twirling locks of her hair, smelling her hair and telling her that she smelled like grilled cheese and figs while calling her a fiery wench, which Hannah was sure was a bad thing.
"I'm sorry Augusta," Hannah said as the door to the Longbottom house opened. "I didn't know he would get this bad. I offered him one drink and that one drink turned into…well, I want to say eight but I'd be lying. I myself don't drink so I don't know the effects on each person that well."
Augusta Longbottom, in a periwinkle blue nightdress with a matching nightcap at first eyed Neville with distaste and then Hannah. Then she smiled brightly at Hannah's words of 'I don't drink myself,' because that's exactly the type of person Neville needed.
Even if she did work in a filthy bar.
"I have an umbrella behind my ear Gran," said Neville. He pointed to his ear and the tiny umbrella that kept threatening to fall off. Augusta rolled her eyes and sighed.
"Wonderful. Another party filled night for Neville. Do you think if I turn him into a tree for a few years, until he matures a bit more, anyone would realize his absence?"
Hannah pondered the question and could really only come up with the response of, 'What a strange family the Longbottom's are,' so she said nothing and instead 'hmmmed,' as Neville went to trace her lips with his sticky fingers.
"I'm sorry he was trouble. I wouldn't expect you to go on another date with him again. What a terrible first date. I was sure I taught him better."
At the word 'date,' Hannah's eyes popped open and she nervously fidgeted with her black shirt. "It…we weren't on a date," she mumbled. "We're just friends."
Gran rolled her eyes. "Of course, how silly of me."
Neville shook his head and then shook a finger at Hannah. "We're on a date. We are on a date. You and I are on a date," he said, pointing to Augusta and then shook his head, pointing his finger at Hannah. "You and I are on a date. I'm Ron."
"Is that some sort of nickname?" Hannah asked Augusta with confusion.
"No, Igor and Shakey. They were…help me…stupid Ron…you're pretty." His sticky fingers found her blonde disheveled hair and Hannah grumbled.
"Thank you Neville," her voice was no longer light or happy. She was terribly tired and wanted to be off already. If this was a first date she wouldn't want to know what a second one was with Neville Longbottom.
"I like organs, sticks…leaves and you."
Augusta coughed to stop herself from laughing.
"I didn't quite get the last part," Hannah said tiredly.
"He said you. He likes you Hannah. Let's not beat around the bush. I want grandchildren before I die. This was a date," Augusta said loudly.
Hannah groaned and wanted to desperately curl up into a ball due to embarrassment. Having Neville propose to her in his drunken state as she struggled to bring him home was one thing. Having Augusta Longbottom mention grandchildren was an entirely different thing.
"'Tis true," said Neville with a grin. He burped as an added confirmation.
His foggy mind was telling him to explain his letter and the fact that they were supposed to be on a date. That he was madly in…well, was it love? Was it lust? Or was it the fact that he spent minutes out of the day thinking about her, the way she scrunched up her nose when she laughed or the way her hair shined in the light but was really dull without lighting.
"Your hair…needs…conditioner," he said, fingering a lock of her hair.
She blushed and smacked his hand away. Hannah and Augusta both stared at each other and then at Neville, wondering where the conversation was going.
Perhaps it was the way that she stared at him oddly but listened as if captivated by his talk about flobberworms and the fact that he fed a whole crate of them lettuce and he had asked his Gran to knit him a pair of flobberworm slippers for Christmas. Maybe it was all those things, maybe it was none of those things. Neville didn't know why he liked Hannah so much but he knew he was on a date. He anoned her. He anoned her as much as Harry did Ginny.
"I…well…that's interesting. Definitely interesting. I think…I should be off before any more confessions are made. Goodnight Augusta, goodbye Neville."
Hannah rushed from the doorstep and had to stop herself from jogging down the street.
"Wait!" shouted Neville at a distance behind her. She wasn't going to stop for him as much as she wanted to, only to make sure that he was alright.
"Neville!" She could hear Augusta shout as the wind whipped her face. "Leave the poor girl alone! I think you scared her enough!" Hannah pumped her arms and quickened her pace. She only needed to turn the corner and hide behind a tree. Then she would apparate and the whole ordeal would be over.
But Neville wasn't done. He stumbled after Hannah and threw his arms around her once he was close enough and then sloppily kissed her on the forehead. In response Hannah smiled. It was the only thing she could think of and lightly kissed him on the cheek. She squeezed his arm and told him to get back to his Gran.
Neville obliged and as she disappeared he walked back to Augusta with a silly grin on his face and laced his fingers with hers.
"I kissed her Gran," he squeaked.
"Don't get so excited Neville. I'm sure you scared her off. Come inside. I'll get you some water and then it'll be off to bed. Never drink again Neville."
He wasn't listening as Augusta led him into the kitchen and forced him to sit on a chair.
"Ah, you silly monkey, she tastes like burnt toast…"
His head dropped to the kitchen table and his snores filled the kitchen. Augusta shook her head and sighed.
It would take Neville a total of twenty minutes after he got up to recall the events of last night. After fighting with Gran for ten and then rushing for the shower because he reeked, he would remember everything as the water beat on his sore body.
Ron Weasley was so dead.
Of course, by the end of the next day all the blame would be on Harry Potter.
Author's Note: This is the longest chapter I have ever written in my life. This took me four hours to write. Four hours! I don't know where the idea came from but I'm excited to see what kind of advice Harry will give Neville and what trouble Neville will get into. Don't forget to review and tell me what you think!