The boxes were successfully sent back to the castle, and Hermione kept her crying over photographic evidence of her previous romance to a relative minimum. She took half of the kitchen dishes and silverware, her tea pot, and the cozy chenille throw on the couch and placed a kiss to her palm, setting it on the wall as she departed the place she had called home for four years.
"Come on Missy, time to get pickled." Neville grabbed her hand, as she laughed gratefully. He led her though the cool night air onto the Tube and down a couple of stops. They ended up at a club with pulsing music, and Neville bought her Martini after Martini as she requested until she felt warm and fuzzy, feeling protected in his steady presence.
They chatted about school, Herbology and Muggle Studies. They spoke about the changes in the castle since the war. They spoke of Muggle London and life without magic. She told him all about her parents, and how their relationship had changed so much after she had given back their memories after the war.
He chatted easily about Gran and how strong she had been during the war, even going so far as to wear trousers and standing at the front lines at the battle of Hogwarts. Now, though, he divulged, she was happily back to being a lady of society, having friends to her home and hosting parties and luncheons for charities.
He told her briefly about Luna, and how she wanted to move to Bulgaria to study Crumple-horned Snorkaks with her father and how when he asked her to stay, she had broken it off, saying that he didn't appreciate her personality. He revealed that now that he had taken a step back to look at their relationship, they were never really in love, for if they truly were, they wouldn't have asked the other to make such debilitating sacrifices.
They danced together. She remembered that Neville was a good dancer in school, when they had their formal ball. What she hadn't realized what that he would be such a good partner in a Muggle club. He moved with her, swaying to the music. He was respectful in his touch while fitting in well among the people moving around them. She smiled at him, her brain pleasantly hazy, but still able to think. She was out with a handsome man, having a good dance and pleasant conversation. If she hadn't broken up with Ron just two days ago, Hermione would have thought that this experience was the beginning of a romantic relationship. It wasn't, was it?
He apparated them back to the Castle gate around 1 am. Hermione was a bit tipsy, but exhausted. She felt warm and happy, exactly the opposite of how she expected to feel after today. She linked her arm in his as they trekked to their rooms. They stood at her door, a touch of Neville's childhood insecurity peeking behind his handsome exterior. He reached in to give her a peck on the cheek and she moved ever so slightly, touching her lips to his.
It was a chaste, quick kiss, leaving Neville staring at her in surprise. "Thank you for today. I had a good time." She smiled at him, a blush on her cheeks, and disappeared into her rooms.
Neville stood for a minute outside her door, smiling like a fool.
The pair stayed up a long while, trying desperately to imprint the moment in their minds.
There was a spark. Hermione was surprised that there was a spark, because Neville was never the type she imagined herself being with. She thought him predictable, clumsy, a bit boring. But was he? Was he really? She never thought he would dance like that. She never thought that she would be enchanted by the crooked twist of his lips. She never thought she would be wondering what his mouth tasted like.
She changed out of her party clothes, into leggings and a very worn Cambridge shirt of her father's, washed her face and curled up with a knit blanket on her couch. He tasted like cinnamon, and something else. He tasted like a new beginning she thought with finality, and drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, the weight of the kiss fell on her, overwhelming her. She was nowhere near ready for a relationship. Even with someone handsome, familiar, and wonderful. She smiled at herself. It was Neville Longbottom she was smiling about – Neville who could never keep track of his blasted frog. Neville who endured torture to protect younger students. The best Herbologist of their generation. Who smelled of aloe and cedar and fresh soil, with soft… lips…?
Oh dear. Oh no, she was gone. What did that say about her? She had a crush. She went from a long term boyfriend, to hopelessly lost, to kissing a good friend in a matter of days. In the matter of a weekend.
She had always been so responsible, the one with the plan, with the level head and now? The responsible thing to do would be to give herself a couple months, maybe have a little bit of a fling, THEN maybe date a sensible, sweet Herbology professor who she may fancy a bit. Not have a sad single weekend and then… dear gods.
He knocked on her door to escort her to the main hall for breakfast. "Hi," He smiled shyly. "Hi, back." Oh, no. It was awkward. Hermione smiled up at Neville. "Hey, I had a really nice time last night." "Me too, it was great! You're a lovely dancer." "You too! I just … I was worried because of the kiss. It was great, and you know I really like you, as a friend, but I don't know if I'm ready for a relationship quite right now." Neville was quiet for a moment. "Well, I didn't figure. I thought that maybe we could get to know each other as adults for a little while? Not that the kiss wasn't great, because it was, and I really like you too, but I think it would be best for us to stay friends for a bit, allow your feelings for Ron to sort themselves out." She gawked at him. It was unbelievable how truly attuned he was. "Well, yeah."