Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Chapter 4: Messed Up Mondays (A Midnight Serenade)
Neville stared at the motley crew that was dancing and singing in front of him. He lazily poured firewhiskey in his mouth, shaking at the burning sensation that filled his throat as he swallowed it. He had only been outside for ten minutes and his vision was already clouding, thanks to the quick consumption of alcohol.
The backyard glowed different colors, red, blues, greens thanks to tea lights that were floating in miniature lanterns in the air. There were two round tables, both for drinks, and seats that were mostly kicked to the floor.
Neville blinked, trying to focus his eyes but the lights were bothering him and he found it hard to concentrate as he sipped from the firewhiskey bottle that Seamus had so graciously given him.
"Tough guy," a voice shouted loudly in his ear. He grimaced and stared at the blurry big image of what he figured was a man standing in front of him. "What happened?"
"R-r-rejected me," he stuttered. He was stumbling over his words already, they were coming out slurred and incoherent. He wondered vaguely if he was speaking in his native tongue or some foreign language. "I did everything the man with the funny scar said. I a-polo-gized and then asked her out. All whim like. All aloof," Neville laughed loudly at 'aloof' and then started to say 'poof, poof, poof,' throwing his arms in the air as if something had exploded.
"No!" Another voice shouted. The person was on Neville's right side and blocked some of the lights that were blinding him. He blinked three times and was able to focus on the face, Harry Potter was shaking his finger and pouting at him with displeasure. "You were supposed to do a big display—"
A big display of what, Neville didn't really know. Maybe he was supposed to buy some tropical fish and a large tank to put them in, comparing his obsession to Hannah and his need to date her to that saying 'there are plenty of fish in the sea' but she was his fish and Neville would swim upstream, downstream, along any stream to swim, swim, swim with her.
"You," another voice filled his ear and an arm snaked around his neck.
Neville stared into the red eyes of Dean Thomas and dropped his bottle to the grass, ready to hear advice from someone that would not steer him wrong. Dean was solid. He was a rock. He had to know how to get girls if he had been able to date Ginny Weasley even when she held a torch for Harry.
"You need to go over to her house and demand she take your apology back," he commanded. He poked Neville's chest roughly, making him wince but the words sounded right to Neville.
He had to stop being such a pansy.
"Here, here!" Seamus shouted next to Dean. His eyes weren't red, his speech wasn't slurred but he was taking a swig from a bottle that was nearly empty and walking around like all he was drinking was water.
Neville eyed the Irishman whose face was redder than normal and grinned.
"Show her who wears the trousers in the relationship," he advised, shoving his empty bottle in Neville's hands.
The bottle was cool to Neville's touch. It reminded him of the cool exterior of Hannah and the icy chill in her voice after he had stupidly kissed her. He squinted his eyes, trying to keep his eyes from filling with tears and rested his head on Dean's shoulder.
"Come on Neville, what do you say?" He had been speaking, explaining something to Neville that he couldn't quite understand.
Neville's eyes were on Ron and Hermione. Ron was twirling Hermione around. They were dancing with no shoes, their toes pressing gently against the damp grass. That could've been him and Hannah.
Neville nodded in response unsure what Dean and Seamus were grinning about once he placed his attention on them again. Seamus hooked his arm into his while Dean grabbed the other and the three disappeared with a loud crack.
-x-
Neville growled.
It was an unnatural sound coming from the young man as he eyed Seamus and Dean who were standing in front of him. The former was staring at the obstacle that lay before them while the latter was drinking out of a near empty bottle and grinning broadly, pearly white teeth glowing in the dark.
Neville didn't know what to call what he was participating in. Was it a break in? Did he really want to go to Azkaban after all these years?
He grabbed the bottle out of Dean's hands and took a long swig. He was definitely going to need some liquid courage for this.
"Give him a boost!" shouted Dean, throwing his arms in the air trying unsuccessfully to grab Seamus. He instead ended up hugging himself and sighing in satisfaction as he squeezed himself tightly.
The warmth in Dean's eyes made Neville realize why he agreed to the plan in the first place. He wanted to make Hannah that happy. He wanted to put his arms around her and get the same reaction from her because he was near. His crush on her wasn't going away any time soon. By the end of the night she was going to be his, end of discussion.
He had slayed a snake during the Battle of Hogwarts! Surely she should have been throwing herself at his feet with vigor. Wasn't she supposed to find that sexy? Maybe he needed the sword of Godric Gryffindor to remind her just how much of a stud he was. Or is! Neville is a stud! She should have been writing songs about him!
"Come on lads, give me a boost!" he shouted. He started to hitch up his trousers as if that would make the task easier and eyed the awning with wonder.
"We're really doing this!" Seamus shouted excitedly.
"Yes! Come on, we're supposed to be his back up! Let's back him up."
Neville swallowed nervously in agreement. He waved his two drunk friends over as he continued to eye the tattered red and white striped awning.
As if they were sharing the same brain Seamus and Dean simultaneously stumbled towards him and then promptly squatted down to the ground on their hands and knees.
Without further hesitation he shakily tried to climb on top of Dean's back who cursed out in pain due to the weight. Neville stood on top of him for a few seconds trying to get his bearings and then stretched his hands out towards the awning, still a good three feet away from it. The cloth barely grazed his fingertips.
"Neville," Dean wheezed out while Seamus laughed uncontrollably next to him. "We need to put you on a diet."
Neville ignored him as he stared at the awning that was mocking him. He just wanted to get up there and knock on her windowpane to prove to Hannah that he was worthy of her.
"Hannah!" he shouted on top of Dean. "Hannah! Please! Come on Dean, lift me."
"I can barely lift the hem of your trouser up let alone you, you cow."
Dean made a weak attempt at arching his back to lift Neville but he winced and cried out in pain instead while Seamus continued to laugh next to him. Before they could start arguing someone coughed next to them, alerting the three inebriated men.
"Hello, Tom," Neville said weakly. Seamus offered him a sip from his empty bottle.
Tom coughed and pointed a frail finger at Neville.
"In my day we used the front door or levitated rocks to hit their windows."
Neville smiled nervously while Seamus jumped up from the floor.
"But of course!" he shouted. "Magic!"
Tom shook his head bemused by the three boys. They seemed harmless enough and he had watched Neville for the past few months drooling over Hannah. He figured he wouldn't get involved. As long as they didn't burn the place down they weren't his problem.
"I just want to know what your plan is," Dean said to Seamus as he tried to catch his breath.
The man didn't really have an eye for plans. If he was thinking clearly, and he wasn't, Dean would not have listened to Seamus. He was creative but coming up with an idea and actually mapping it out were two entirely different things.
"He's going to woo her," he responded with a loud whistle.
"Yeah!" Neville shouted excitedly. "Woo!" Though he wasn't entirely sure what 'woo' meant and how he was going to do that.
It sounded all very knight in shining armor. Maybe he would need the sword of Gryffindor after all.
"With magic!"
There was that 'M' word again. Seamus whipped out his wand and started to do a little jig. Sparks were flying from his wand into the air as he swished it around haphazardly.
If Dean was feeling sober he would have muttered curses under his breath and wrinkled his nose as if he had just gotten a whiff of something rancid. He wasn't so this happened instead:
"We'll levitate you to her window and you'll sing to her!"
"How romantic!" Dean shouted in agreement. "An ode!"
"An ode?" Neville questioned, wrinkling his nose. He wasn't sure he knew any odes or any songs for that matter. What was the one about the old woman who lived in a shoe? Did that one count? She had a lot of bats and had to be evicted or something?
Neville wasn't sure he could sing then again he never thought he could defeat Lord Voldemort so he figured he had a lot going for him.
"Singing is nice," he said quietly. "Singing is romantic." He was positive she was going to appreciate it. Then she would fall into his arms and the world would be right again.
"Alright, if we're going to do this you really have to commit. Drink," Dean demanded.
Dean bent down and pulled out three tiny bottles of alcohol that were hidden in his trouser leg. Neville thought it was a good hiding spot. The three opened their respective tiny bottles and chugged until the contents were gone.
Feeling hazier than before, Neville scratched his neck and stared up at the stars that were twinkling in the sky. The awning suddenly looked much further away than he previously thought. It was as if the entire building was moving from its spot before him.
Next to him, Dean burped and then scratched his neck, looking up at the night sky.
"Bloody hell, you are a brave man."
Neville gulped down the bile that was rising in his throat. He was beginning to feel rather sick since his current diet consisted of copious amounts of alcohol.
"What was that?" he asked loudly.
Seamus shrugged. "Nothing," he grumbled, "clean out your ears. Hearin' things. We're singing tonight lads! Sounds grand. How about a broomstick?"
Neville gaped at him. He might have been drunk but he still had some sense left in him. It had to be levitation. It was romantic and had they not seen him on a broom before? He had been celebrating his twentieth birthday when Harry convinced him it would be safe to teach him how to properly fly while he was drunk and wearing a blindfold.
He ended up crashing, hard, and spent the week in St. Mungo's.
"Levitation," he said, voice cracking slightly, "will have to do."
Neville clapped his hands together and prepared to brace himself for the trip in the air. He was convinced this was going to work. It had to. His future wife was up in her room right now just waiting for him. If he had any luck Hannah would be his by the end of the night.
He was too busy daydreaming about Hannah he didn't realize Seamus and Dean whip out their wands at the same time. He floated in the air, lopsided, and felt like he was being tugged in two different directions. They were going to tear his body into two. He wiggled about in the air, groaning and moaning, as the two cackled on the ground at his discomfort.
"You're doing it Neville, you're flying!"
Neville whooped in the air as the two closed the gap and he felt some pressure release from his limbs.
"He's doing it, he's really doing it!" Dean shouted from the air.
"Just like magic!"
"The greatest thing I've ever seen!"
"It's like he's floating on air!"
"Just like magic!"
Dean and Seamus were too busy cheering at their success they whipped their wands left and right and finally pointed them to the ground. Neville tried to desperately grip the awning in the air but his fingers slipped and felt himself start to tumble down.
He screamed as he crashed to the ground. His head started to instantly throb and he felt an immense amount of pain on his left side. The thorns from the rose bushes that had somewhat cushioned his fall were destroyed. He rolled over onto his back and stared up at the confused faces of his friends who were peering over him.
"Is he dead?" Seamus asked, kicking his foot.
"Whoops," Dean said with a grin, trying to contain his laughter as Neville groaned from the ground. "You think they'll chuck us in Azkaban for this one?"
But Neville didn't care what either of them were going on about or the pain that was getting worse by the second. As he stared up at the sky he had a clear view of Hannah's window.
The light had turned on.
"Just get me to the top," he said with determination. "Her room is right there."
Dean and Seamus nodded their heads in unison and then held their hands out to help him get up.
"Dean's just not the best with magic," Seamus said as Neville shakily got up from the ground. "He's always missing an eyebrow or something or other."
Dean furrowed his brow and gave Seamus a hard look.
"I think you're mixing me up with Harry."
"I reckon that's why Voldemort was always after him."
Neville groaned as if to contribute to the conversation. The two boys turned their attention back to him and Dean sloppily slapped his back, trying to remove some of the dirt that was on him. As a second thought he grabbed a rose that had attached itself to Neville's back. The red rose petals were squished but he tried to fluff them up and handed it to his friend.
"A rose by any other name would smell as sweet*."
Neville and Seamus stared longingly at Dean, their cheeks coloring slightly.
"I think," Seamus said with a smile, "you're successfully wooing me."
"Just call me Romeo."
-x-
After a ten-minute break, in which Dean pulled out a few more tiny bottles that were hidden in his trouser leg, the trio decided to drunkenly give it another go.
The fall was far out of Neville's mind but he did wonder why there was dirt on his behind and pain in his lower back. He would also question the bruises while he showered in the dark tomorrow.
Neville reached out towards the awning as Dean and Seamus successfully levitated him after a handful of tries. He eyed her window with a steely expression and started to loudly hit it with his fist.
"Oi! Hannah Abbot, I've come to woo you!" he shouted.
Seamus and Dean were shouting something from the ground but he couldn't properly hear them. There was a buzzing in his ears and the wind was rather loud.
He knocked again trying to add as much force as he could. The light was still on and the curtains ruffled slightly from the inside. She had to be in there. She had to hear him. Maybe if he was just a bit louder.
Tonight was the night. Where all of his dreams would come true. Neville would finally get the girl come hell or high water. He could feel it in his veins.
"Hannah Abbot, open this window right now. I need to talk to you! I need to woo you! I need to sing to you and serenade you!"
At 'serenade' the curtains ruffled again. If it was entertainment she wanted it was entertainment he was going to give her.
"She's not opening the window," Dean shouted from the ground. "Do you think she's downstairs? That'll really ruin the plan."
"We have a plan?" Seamus questioned. He was surprised they were so resourceful.
But Neville couldn't hear them. He grumpily eyed the closed window and could swear he could see her eyes peering straight at him. He still had enough liquid coverage inside of him to reveal his feelings to her. It wasn't until that moment he knew what he was going to sing to her, the one song he knew.
"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear…"
"I didn't know it was her birthday," Seamus said from the ground.
Dean cursed next to him. "I didn't get her a gift."
His singing was off-key. It was terrible. If anyone was actually listening to it sober they would have been cringing and grinding their teeth. Neville tried to add some flair to it while in the air. He tried to make out the letters of her name almost like a cheerleader (though he didn't know what that was) but instead he looked like he was trying to do the conga. There were too many limbs flying around and his voice was getting louder and louder.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEEEEEAAAR H-A-N-N-A-H, HAPPY BIRTHDAY—"
The window opened in one swoop and Hannah Abbot stared at him with an angry and unimpressed look on her face. Neville wiggled his body closer to the window and tried to position himself on the awning in what he thought was an alluring way.
"Have you completely lost your mind?" she shouted.
She looked so pretty when she shouted. Her nose wrinkled up and her face was flushed like she was dehydrated and needed water.
"Perhaps," he said with what he hoped was an endearing grin. "Perhaps not. It's so airy up here. I can taste it."
"Woo!" Seamus shouted from the ground. "She opened the window!"
"Kiss her!"
"Touch her!"
"Squeeze her!"
Hannah growled. "Neville—"
"Hannah, I like you." He wanted to say love but he still had some sanity left in him. Even though he was almost certain he did in fact love her. She was after all going to be his future wife.
She rounded her shoulders and stared at him. It had never occurred to Neville that Hannah didn't like him back.
"Neville, I need to tell you something," she said hoarsely.
Nervous, Neville cursed, almost losing his balance on the awning.
"Crap!"
"He's going down!"
"Who knows a cushioning charm!"
"Damn you, magic!"
On the ground, Dean and Seamus lowered their wands, frantically calling for help. Neville wheezed and gripped the ledge of Hannah's window. His face was quickly turning purple as he tried to hang on for dear life.
Startled, Hannah reached out and gripped his arms, struggling to pull him inside her room. With effort on both their parts Neville tumbled inside her bedroom. He shouted in pain as he fell to the floor with little help from her.
Laying on his back, he tried to get his bearings, he paused to take a look at his surroundings. Her bedroom walls were a pale blue, she had a purple duvet with sunflowers on the floor and the room itself smelled like lavender.
"Are you alright?" she questioned, peering over him.
Neville gave her a lopsided smile from the ground with no intention of getting up.
"I am in your bedroom."
This was definitely going to win him some points with the boys.
He vaguely wondered if Seamus and Dean were still outside but weren't too concerned about their well-being.
"Don't sound so excited about it. What the hell is wrong with you?"
Hannah was fuming. She had her hands on her hips and was staring over him with a less than amused expression on her face. She vaguely reminded him of his Gran whenever she was upset with him.
"I've come to serenade you and make you mine."
She pursed her lips. "Neville, I don't understand what is going on with you. I seriously think you have a drinking problem. I care about you but—"
At 'care' Neville peeled his upper body slowly off the floor. She cared about him? She cared about him. Caring meant more than just liking a person. Caring meant she had legitimate positive feelings toward him.
He cocked his head to the side and gaped at her. His mind was still fuzzy from the fall and the alcohol so he wanted to make sure he wasn't misunderstanding her.
"You care for me?" he didn't quite understand what she was trying to say. "What?"
She rolled her eyes. Men really had one track minds.
"Of course I care about you Neville. Don't be foolish but you would really need to clean yourself up. I mean honestly, you reek of alcohol and you have dirt on your bum. I might be a barmaid but I have some standards. I won't date a mess."
Neville couldn't believe what he was hearing. His head was spinning. He wanted to get up from the ground but he feared his equilibrium would be completely off and he'd crash into her nightstand or worse—her.
He raised his eyebrow because he couldn't do much else. "Is this some sort of joke?" he questioned nervously.
Hannah shook her head, blonde hair swishing from side to side. "Unfortunately it's not."
"You, Hannah Abbot, like me, Neville Longbottom?"
That's who he was after all wasn't he? He couldn't wrap his head around it. His mind felt foggy. Slowly, Neville picked himself up from the ground. He shook like a baby calf walking for the first time. Hannah reached out for him as he tried to take his first steps. He felt drunk, tired and confused.
"She likes me?"
"You're really that drunk?" Hannah questioned, gripping the back of his shirt as he flailed his arms about.
"I'm supposed to be alone forever and Gran will never get the great-grandchildren she always goes on about."
Hannah shook her head but Neville was none the wiser. He tumbled towards her bed and threw his body on it earning a yell from Hannah.
He shut his eyes as she began to protest and kept poking him to get up and go home.
"Neville?"
"You smell…lovely…" He rolled over onto his side and his snores began to quickly fill the room.
-x-
There was too much light coming from the window. Neville groaned and pulled the covers over his eyes. His Gran was at it again. What little brain cells he had left she was going to fry with the damn sun. He swore to himself he was never going to drink again.
He felt like his entire body had given up on him. His head hurt, his side ached and he swore his senses were going because he smelled oddly of grass.
He couldn't remember all of the trouble he got himself into last night but he was sure once he pieced it together it couldn't be good.
Neville groaned again and then tried to stretch his body out onto his bed to get a good assessment of his injuries. He nearly jumped when he felt a body next to him.
His mind started to race as he tried to process what that meant. A body? Had he…did he…did he have a one night stand? His heart thumped in his chest double time. Augusta Longbottom, because at this point she would disown him, was going to murder him. She would send him to an early grave if she knew there was a stranger in her home.
For the life of him he hoped it wasn't Hermione. He always had a feeling she had a thing for him. He did slay a snake after all.
Neville took a deep anxious breath and prepared to peek his head out and see just who the sleeping culprit was. On the count of three he poked his head out and stared at the person that was next to him.
Hannah Abbot was in his bed.
He must have been dreaming.
He didn't care if the sun was shining in his face and making his headache worse his heart soared in his chest. There was drool coming out of the side of her mouth, a pool of it on his purple pillowcase. She was gripping the purple duvet close to her body and her hair was strewn about. It looked like she needed a good combing and from the quick sniff he took it smelt like she needed a swig of mouth wash but he was not one to judge.
Neville sighed with content and snuggled closer to her. The pain he felt as he moved was worth it.
He didn't even care that his sheets were suddenly purple. He closed his eyes and listened to her rhythmic snores.
-x-
Neville woke an hour later to the sound of a door slamming shut. He groggily opened his eyes and tried to piece together his surroundings.
Since when did he have a pink vase by his nightstand?
He groaned as he felt pain shoot up his entire left side and placed his hands on his eyes in protest against the sunlight.
"Gran, I think I'm dying."
"He lives."
Neville abruptly stopped moaning at the voice. That wasn't his Gran that responded. It was Hannah. What the hell was Hannah doing in his bedroom? He hoped to Dumbledore that he was wearing something underneath his duvet. He shimmed in the bed and exhaled with relief as he felt the imprint of his clothes.
"What happened?" he questioned, taking his hand away from his eyes. He squinted, trying to take in the surrounding of the room and the person who was standing in front of him.
Hannah was wearing a white t-shirt and a black skirt, there was a quill keeping her brown hair up in a bun and she was holding a glass of water.
"Where shall I start," she said drily, "the romantic midnight serenade or…"
As she spoke it all came crashing down on him. He remembered the drinks he had. The tiny bottles of alcohol that seemed to keep appearing out of thin air. Floating, falling…
Bloody hell.
His cheeks flushed from embarrassment. He didn't know what was worse. The fact that he showed up at her home the night before or the fact that he was now sober in her bed.
"I need a drink," he groaned.
Hannah sighed but walked towards the bed and handed him the glass. He greedily drank the water as she sat down on the edge of the bed next to him.
"Neville, what the hell is going on with you? This isn't you. You're not some drunk. I know the drunks. I supply them with all the alcohol they want."
Merlin, she was just like his Gran with all of the questions and disappointed stares. He just wanted to crawl into a hole and stay there forever. Plus, he reeked. He smelled like he had been rolling around in actual dirt.
It suddenly dawned on him that he was in her bedroom and was sweating and decomposing on her bed.
"You make my head go all loopy. I can't think straight when you're around. I get nervous and my hands start feeling like feet and I can't form sentences around you. What are those anyway?" The words were tumbling out faster than he could even register what he was saying.
He liked Hannah, that much was obvious to the both of them but he lacked a certain confidence in the dating department.
At his obvious discomfort Hannah softened.
"Neville, I like you," she said softly. Their eyes met for a split second before the two of them looked away, both red in the cheeks. "I just don't like you like this. I like you sober."
Neville vowed to himself he would never drink again. When he went home later that day he would empty all the liquor bottles in his house and give his Gran a sloppy kiss on the cheek. He'd tell her he was never going to touch the 'juice' again.
His head and heart were pounding. He couldn't believe in his current state of his Hannah actually liked him.
"Really, for how long?" He couldn't quite believe it. Neville was sure he was dreaming. He didn't want to move from his current spot in bed. He was sure if he did he would wake up to his grandmother prodding him to get up and be a productive human being.
"It started in seventh year."
Neville gaped at her. "S-seventh year?"
She shrugged, not meeting his eye, fingers circling the duvet. "Well, you got tall."
"Tall? That's absurd," he said with a nervous gulp. This couldn't be happening.
In the next minute Ron or Harry were going to barge in and she was going to transform into Dean or Seamus. This had to be the work of a polyjuice potion or something illicit. Maybe in his drunken state he had barged in on her and placed her under the Imperius curse.
His heart swelled as Hannah nervously put her hand out and gripped the tips of his fingertips. At first Neville couldn't properly respond. His hands were sweating. His entire body was sweating from the pure nervousness he was feeling but then he moved his hand into hers. They were holding hands. To him it felt like pure magic.
"I see," he said quietly. "Huh, so that's what it feels like."
He leaned back into his pillow, trying to make himself more comfortable. His head was still throbbing and his body still ached but there was a warmness that filled him that he never wanted to go away. Completely content he closed his eyes as he held Hannah's hand.
Hannah cocked her head to the side and gave him a puzzled glance even though he wasn't paying any attention to her.
"What does it feel like?"
"Joy."
Author's Note: It has been years! I actually wrote the very first part where he's at the party years ago. I wrote the rest today. I always knew it was going to end with Neville getting the girl but I could never figure out how. One day I got a review and they said they really wish that Neville was sober. So I figured that's the only way he would be able to get Hannah to be with him. She likes the sober version of him, I mean who doesn't, right? I hoped you liked this quiet short story! I enjoyed writing Neville immensely. Let me know what you think of my cheesy ending in a review. The rose quote belongs to Shakespeare!