Author's Note: We're back, I'm so sorry for the long pause. I'll say more in the notes at the end, but for now I just want to say thank you to anyone who's coming back to this story after such a long hiatus, and also thank you to anyone else who might be reading through it for the first time and doesn't even know I've been terrible at updating. I really care for this story, and it means the world that anyone would give it their time.

Hannah woke with the first traces of daylight that snuck past her curtains. The hazy glow painted the room like a dream, an illusion only enhanced by the warm weight of another person's body pressed against hers. She closed her eyes and savored it. Neville's arm slung over her waist, his hand against her thigh, his soft, steady breath stirring the hair at the nape of her neck. It was as if she'd stepped into another life. Still, reality was there in every dull thud that ached through her head. Even the oddest dreams usually didn't include hangovers.

She needed to get up. The longer she stayed there the more it would hurt when she was faced by the fact that it was all just happenstance. As nice as the present moment felt, Hannah knew that if it weren't for their shared bad fortune Neville never would have rushed over to see her, let alone have slept in her bed. And besides, the pain relief tonic was in the bathroom.

Trying not to disturb his sleep, Hannah did the delicate job of disentangling herself from Neville's embrace. With her feet planted on the cold floor, the chill of the morning slid up her spine. A violent shiver followed, wracking her body. At least that provided a practical explanation for why the sudden lack of Neville's warmth seemed like such a real loss.

Evidence of the night before lay about the room. The abandoned wine bottle on the bedside table and the magazines scattered on the floor in front of the desk—not to mention Neville himself, still soundly asleep on the bed. Hannah did some quick tidying, taking care of most of the mess with unspoken charms. She scanned the room for anything else that could be easily dealt with, but her eyes caught on Neville. Taking in the state of him, fully dressed in yesterday's clothes, lying atop the blankets, Hannah felt a wash of renewed gratitude. It couldn't have been a comfortable night. She spread her yellow blanket up from the end of the bed until it hugged his shoulders, only to realize that it left his feet uncovered. Her gaze twitched to his face, checking for any sign that this was more disturbance than comfort. There was none, but her gaze lingered. It traced the soft curve of Neville's round cheeks, how they melted down into his square jaw. Only the potential embarrassment should he wake kept her traitorous hand from reaching out to take the same path.

Her headache pulsed painfully in the bright light in the bathroom. Hannah did her best to ignore it as she set about all of the tasks that could make her feel a bit more human and a bit less like she'd basically drunk an entire bottle of wine the night before. With her teeth brushed and a swig of pain relief tonic swallowed, she started scrubbing her face. The warm water eased Hannah the rest of the way to wakefulness. As the worn flannel worked the grit and sleep from her skin, the night came back in flashes. Drunken moodiness, crying yet again, practically begging Neville to be near her. Hannah's stomach rolled violently, whether from actual nausea or sheer embarrassment she wasn't sure. Still, Hannah reminded herself as she hid her messy hair up into a bun, he'd stayed. That felt like a gift, even if Hannah didn't know exactly what it meant. And there had been that moment, when she thought that maybe—but no, it was silly to linger on that.

She went back into her room, tiptoeing toward the wardrobe to fetch a clean change of clothes. A muffled knock stopped her in her tracks. Wand clutched close to her chest, she neared the door. Another round of knocking started. There was no denying that it was on her door, and it was still early, so early that no one should have been able to sneak upstairs without being seen by Tom or whoever else was working. She weighed her options, breath caught in her throat, before removing the silencing charm.

"Who's there?" she asked.

"It's me," Tom's gruff voice said. Before Hannah could question him further, he added, "Your letter's arrived. Gertie must've flown all night to get it back this early."

It was one of the only things he could've said to assure her of his identity. No one else knew that Hannah had asked to borrow Tom's owl the previous morning, when she realized that because she was decidedly not in contact with her father or paternal grandparents the only way to tell Nana what was happening would be by breaking their normal means of communication and sending word by owl post. She'd apparated down to Tom's office to ask the favor, sure that he'd reject her and be mad about the invasion of privacy on top of it, but instead her boss had been nothing but kind and understanding about it. That had almost hurt more than a refusal would have.

Hannah quickly removed the rest of her protective spells and opened the door, holding it where she hoped it still blocked any view of the bed from the hall. Tom held a heavy looking envelope, and past him Hannah saw a tray levitating, laden with food and an entire pot of tea.

"Thank you," Hannah said, taking the letter from him.

Tom sighed heavily and said, "It's better out here than it was." His pale eyes seemed to regard her like he might a skittish animal.

"I'm sure," Hannah said, not feeling at all sure of it.

"They're staying outside at least."

"They might not if I go down there." She shouldn't have been skeptical, really, Tom always seemed to know precisely what was happening at the inn. Still, what if this proved to be the one time he was wrong?

Tom's mouth was a grim line, but he nodded at what she'd said. "You should have this," he said, passing her a newspaper that she hadn't noticed at his side. It was folded open, showing off a picture of the Leaky Cauldron's exterior. In it, amongst flashes of light, Neville passed through the frame and entered the pub. A headline ran alongside it: "Longbottom's Late Night Liaison"

Hannah hadn't realized that she did have some hope that things were dying down, not until it was squashed. She watched the photograph cycle through a few more times. Each repetition seemed to steal more of the air from her lungs until she finally tore her gaze away. She faked a smile to Tom. "Please tell me it's been good for business at least."

Her boss's wizened face didn't betray anything when he said, "Business is always good."

Hannah nodded. "Right," she said, "Of course."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Neville shift on the bed and it took all of her self-control not to look at him fully.

Tom raised a hand to run it over his bald head. "There's one thing hurting us, I s'pose, in the mornings anyway."

"Oh?" she asked. In Hannah's periphery Neville sat up and she silently willed him not to say anything. Somehow, the thought of Tom mistaking the situation for her actually having some newsworthy affair seemed even worse than things already were.

"Yes," Tom continued. "It seems I underestimated how much people enjoyed the pastry offerings." He smiled kindly at Hannah and waited for her response.

She searched for the right thing to say. As demanding and curt as he could be sometimes, Hannah really couldn't ask for a better boss. She didn't want to let him down. "Really?" she finally said.

"I'm hoping you'll consider doing some baking in the mornings. Even if anyone comes inside, they can't get to you in the kitchen."

Hannah's grip tightened on the newspaper and letter in her hands. She shuffled them so that the envelope lay on top, Nana's curly script on display, calling her name in green ink.

"I'd love to, but," Hannah shook her head, staring down at the unopened letter because she couldn't look at Tom or risk looking over at Neville. "I'll need to read what my grandmother said. With everything happening she might want to see me and since she can't come here I…it wouldn't feel right not going if that's what she wants." Hannah couldn't bring herself to say the bigger truth even as she thought, Not when I'm all she has left of Mum.

Tom took the charmed tray of food from where it hovered in the air behind him and turned back to Hannah with it. "The offer stands. Whenever you're ready." He held the tray out to her.

She accepted it, forcing herself to keep her voice steady as she said, "Thank you, Tom."

He had already turned to head back downstairs but he looked over his shoulder to say, "You're welcome."

Hannah was resetting her safety charms with one hand while balancing the tray on her hip with the other when Neville spoke.

"Morning," he said, his voice quiet and scratchier than usual.

When she'd finished with the spells Hannah turned to him, willing herself to keep it together. "Good morning," she said. She walked over to the bed, where Neville now sat with his feet steady on the floor, the yellow blanket pushed aside. Hannah deposited the tray. "Tom brought me breakfast," she said. "Apparently he thinks I eat as much as four people might."

Neville chuckled quietly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Hannah wrung her hands, and the movement made the paper crunch under her arm. "He also brought this," she said, showing him the picture.

Neville only glanced at it before he winced.

"They're quick," Hannah said, "I've got to give them that much."

"I'm sorry," Neville said, looking up at Hannah. "I should've thought more about how to come here. I just should've tried a patronus."

She took in his rumpled appearance, his messy hair and the barely there shadow of stubble. The phantom sensation of his embrace wound around her, an echo from the night before. "No, I'm glad you came. I—we needed to talk." I needed to see you, she added in her thoughts. I needed to feel whatever this is that keeps happening when I'm around you.

"Thanks," he said. He stood and gestured vaguely across the room, towards the bathroom door. "D'you mind if I…?"

"Oh, of course," Hannah said. "Take all the time you need."

He went into the other room, and Hannah silently kicked herself. The man was barely even awake and she'd already bombarded him with the mess they were in. She sat next to the tray and began to fix herself some tea. It was only then that she realized Tom had brought up two cups.

Hannah opened Nana's letter, desperate for something else to think about. It had everything she'd expected—worried cooing, invitations that read more like requests, curses for the people who, "ought to know when to stop." Still, it was nice to read. After everything that had been printed in the last week it felt good to hold caring words in her hands.

Eyes still on the letter, Hannah jumped at the sound of the bathroom door opening. Her hands moved before her mind could catch up, and she'd grasped her wand with white knuckles, just barely keeping herself from aiming it at him.

"I'm going to get myself hexed someday aren't I?" Neville said, smiling kindly at her.

Hannah felt her face flush. "I swear I'm not always so easy to startle," she said, stowing her wand again,"I just, I was reading." She motioned towards him with the hand that still held the letter. "It's from my Nana, in Belfast."

He nodded, covering the short distance across the room. "I heard a bit of you and Tom talking." He sat on the other side of the bed from her, the tray of food between them. The stubble was gone, and his skin had the tinge of pink that came from a recent scrub.

Hannah poured tea into the second cup, adding only sugar, no milk, the way that she'd seen him drink it.

"Thanks," he said, accepting the cup when she offered it. If he found it odd that there were two, he didn't say anything. He sipped the tea and considered Hannah with soft eyes. "So you're going."

"Yes," she said. Hannah bit the inside of her cheek, mulling over how to explain herself. But the words wouldn't come. They lingered out of reach, across waters she couldn't chart.

Neville frowned, and as if he could read it on her face he said, "You don't have to explain."

"I know that," she said, and she did. How many conversations had she shut down or clumsily diverted? And other people just let it happen, whether from kindness or disinterest it didn't matter. It let Hannah escape the feeling that, in that very moment, had already begun to constrict her chest. But then she looked across the bed at Neville. When their eyes met, when she finally let herself remember the press of his lips against her forehead the night before, she wanted to try.

He'd opened up to her, after all. He'd told her so much, been honest and vulnerable and kind. She could do that for him too. She wanted to do that for him.

"I don't know how I keep finding myself in hiding," she said at last.

"Like the Room of Requirement," he said.

She nodded. "And sixth year, at my grandparents' house, and then Belfast after we finished school. Even here at the inn, for years now really." Neville started to object but she shook her head, "It hasn't all been like this, obviously, but it was still a way of hiding." From her grandparents and their expectations, from her father and his grief, from the Muggle world she couldn't fit into and the wider Wizarding world she couldn't face.

"Is that what you were getting at last night?" he asked. His mouth was set in a deep frown and Hannah closed her eyes to stop herself from staring at his lips.

She waded through the muck in her mind, trying to remember what exactly he was referencing. The closer she got to when they'd fallen asleep the hazier things were. But there, in a rush of touches and the nearness of Neville's face, she could remember saying something about how she'd never really tried, or how it was good Neville had, or maybe both. She nodded, keeping her head down.

"Hannah," he said, and something in his voice took the breath out of her lungs.

She looked up at him across the bed. Neville's face was backlit, haloed by the soft, warm light that filtered through the still closed curtains. If only she'd ever gotten any good at painting, she would've committed the image to memory in order to recreate it later. As it was, she didn't trust herself to keep looking at him like that. She grabbed her tea and stood. The floorboards squeaked as she began to pace.

"When do you think you'll go?"

"Soon," she said. Turning it over in her mind, eyes still trained on the floor, she reasoned, "I just need to talk to Susan, to let her know. Without work there's really nothing else keeping me."

"Oh."

Just that noise and he'd stopped her in her tracks. She turned to him as he stood, tea abandoned, and circled the bed towards her. Hannah braced herself as he neared, not knowing what to expect. But he walked right past her, eyes downcast toward his watch.

"I should get home, Gran'll be in a snit."

He knelt by the bed to retrieve his shoes. Oh, Hannah's thoughts echoed. Warmth flooded her face. What did you think he'd do? Kiss you before you run away again?

Neville rose, shoes on, nothing else to hold him there but good manners, Hannah supposed. She gulped her tea, more to hide her face than anything else.

"How should I write to you while you're away?" Neville asked, not quite meeting her eyes.

"Owl post is fine," Hannah said. "It just gets conspicuous if it's too consistent." She took in his face, the way it felt like something had been closed off, and wondered what she'd done wrong. How had she messed it all up? And in searching for an answer, she thought of how writing to her didn't need to be another responsibility thrown onto his plate. He didn't owe her anything. "You don't have to keep me up to date about everything with the Prophet , or anything," she said, the words tumbling out. "Susan'll be telling me whether I want to know or not, I'm sure."

Neville rubbed the back of his neck and nodded.

A sinking feeling bloomed in Hannah's gut. It burrowed deeper while they said goodbye, as he hugged her around the shoulders with just one arm, like he felt obligated but didn't want to get too close. It stewed as she shut the door behind him. Festered as she set the protective charms in place yet again. By the time she was depositing her empty teacup onto the tray of untouched food it had ballooned up into her chest, threatening to choke her or at least push out a few tears.

It shouldn't have been possible that it was still the morning when she'd woken up with his arms around her. How had everything gone to shit in just a couple of hours? Hannah tried not to dwell on the question.

She went to her wardrobe. The doors were a collage of things she'd tacked up, keepsakes from school, a picture of her mother, postcards from when Susan had gone traveling for a whole month. Her eyes skimmed over all that, though. They'd been there almost as long as she'd lived in that room. It was the new items that refused to be ignored—her ticket from that fateful quidditch match, the invitation to Harry and Ginny's wedding, and the little seascape painting Neville had made. Her thoughts swirled around them and the last few months of her life. Somehow her world had expanded, opening her up to more people and more events and more emotions, good and bad. Somehow it all came back to Neville.

Hannah wrenched the doors open, forcing her thoughts back onto the task at hand. She was going to Belfast. She was going to escape this mess and be able to breathe easy for the first time in a week. She needed to pack.

Author's Note: So, long time no post. I had grand plans that I would get ahead on writing this fic, that I'd bank a ton of chapters, maybe even the whole thing, and then I'd post this one. Well, it's been a really long time since I made that plan and while I do have some banked work on it, I'm still not done. But I hate not updating this fic for so long, and I hate just sitting on a chapter that I actually feel okay about, so I hit a point where I figured it would be better (and maybe more motivating?) to just put this out there and hope that anyone might enjoy it. So here it is, and I can only hope that if you've made it this far you've liked it.

No promises about when I'll be back with the next chapter, just a promise that I will be at some point.

Thank you so, so much for reading!