Author's Notes: Once again, a huge round of applause for my betareader MikkiSteele, without whom my reliance on spellcheck would be even more apparent than it might already be.
Also, please again accept my layout of the castle being based on the depiction shown in the GBC versions of the first two books in regards to the staff room.
Harry Potter and all associated trademarks belong to J.K. Rowling
Chapter 39
The common room was quite empty when Heather followed Neville back through the portrait hole well after the sun had set out beyond the windows. Both of their faces were still flushed and it was to their relief that no one was there to witness their late return to the tower. Looking around the common room, Heather thought that it would be easy to mistake it for a battlefield after some deadly fight. Nearly every horizontal surface was littered with wrappers, bottles, and glasses along with a small amount of uneaten food. Several chairs were upturned, presumably having fallen over during the more exciting moments of the victory celebration. Heather was sure that by morning it would be put right, but she did wonder just how many house elves were currently waiting for them to go to bed so that they could get to work.
Thinking back over the afternoon she had just spent with Neville in the grounds, she felt her cheeks go pink again in the darkness. Rather than remain a spectacle for the entire house to gawk at, they had silently agreed to continue their 'discussion' in a more private locale. So, hand in hand, and amid raucous screams and suggestions from the onlookers, they had left through the portrait hole and meandered through the castle before making their way out into the grounds. With no real destination in mind, Heather had allowed Neville to lead her down towards the far side of the lake where it was unlikely that anyone would come across them. Safely ensconced behind a thicket of trees, they spent an exceptionally pleasing afternoon together, the rush of emotion through their bodies easily dispelling the slight afternoon chill. From the few clear memories that her befuddled mind could string together, Heather recalled very little actual conversation between the two of them, yet she still felt extremely winded nonetheless.
After an abashed "good night" at the door leading to the girl's dormitories and a final kiss that made her lips tingle all pleasantly, she raced upstairs. Her only desire was to fling herself into bed, draw her curtains around her, and try to make herself accept that today had actually happened. Part of her still wouldn't believe that this wasn't some sort of elaborate dream that she would suddenly awake from. Standing outside her dormitory door she paused for a single heartbeat. If her roommates were asleep, which she fervently hoped they were, then the last thing she wanted to do was startle them awake by slamming open the door.
She needn't have bothered worrying. Hermione, Ginny, Lavender, and Pavarti were all wide awake, clearly waiting for her to return. They were all dressed in pajamas, chatting amiably as they laid on their beds or, in Ginny's case, on Heather's. Even through the mixture of dread at what she was probably about to be subjected to before she would be able to go to sleep, Heather noted that this was probably the first time since term began that Lavender's presence did not suffuse the room with an icy chill. Silence fell when, as one, all four girls turned to stare at her. She took two steps inside and swung the door shut quietly, mentally preparing herself for the barrage of questions that she knew was to come. Instead, the only thing she heard was peals of giggles from all sides. Predictably, Heather's cheeks returned to that extremely noticeable shade of pink they always wore when she was self-conscious or embarrassed.
"Ooh, looks like someone's had a nice time of it today," Pavarti giggled, rolling off of her bed and walking over to pull Heather firmly into the center of the room, next to the large stove.
Now surrounded by her friends, Heather found her ability to speak cut off by a desire to display the contents of her stomach all down her front every time she opened her mouth. Sweat began to trickle down her forehead that had nothing to do with the heat wafting from the stove next to her. She idly wondered if it would be possible to open a window and wished that they might let her jump out of it to escape this. Taking mercy on her once more, Pavarti guided the still silent Heather towards her bed and shooed Ginny off it.
"So," Ginny demanded, sauntering over to where Hermione sat cross legged on her own covers and flopping down next to her. "Are you finally going to tell us if he's a good kisser or not?"
"I'll bet he is," Lavender supplied excitedly before Heather could say anything. "And he's so strong too. He's got such nice arms."
"Course he is, he plucked her up like she weighs nothing," replied Ginny, gesturing with her thumb at Heather.
By now Heather's mouth had opened and closed several times, still without any sound coming out. "Maybe," Hermione said, rolling her eyes in a motherly fashion at both Lavender and Ginny, "we should let Heather talk if we want to find out anything."
Again, all eyes turned on Heather as she tried to sum up what her afternoon had been like without giving too much away. She was sure that all four girls, who no doubt had far more experience with boys than she did, could easily read through the gaps of what she left out. Several times a series of giggles or a shared knowing glance between two of her listeners made her blush and have to stop speaking for several moments. "He umm…feels very nice," she managed to get out before being cut off by wild laughter. Even Hermione's composure faltered as she snorted with good natured mirth.
"Nice? That's the best you can do, nice?" howled Ginny, collapsing across Hermione's bed and slapping the mattress.
"And just how much of him feels nice?" cackled Pavarti.
Giggling should be illegal or at least punishable by prison time, Heather fumed to herself. Pavarti's question had however distracted her from the present moment as quite a few images flooded across her vision, leaving her feeling much warmer than she had been a few moments ago.
"Alright, alright. Settle down, you lot," chided Hermione, who recovered herself first. "What did you two talk about?" she asked Heather, trying hopefully to bring the topic around to something a bit less overtly embarrassing.
"Err. Well, we talked about the match a bit," Heather tried haltingly, hoping she sounded more convincing than she felt. She didn't think she could handle another round of giggling at her expense.
Ginny reached across the gap between the two beds and prodded her on the shoulder. "Oh right. I'm sure he had quite a detailed assessment of your tactics on the pitch," she teased.
"He probably enjoyed how well you handled your broomstick," Lavender added with an exaggerated wink.
Heather and Hermione shared a long, drawn out groan as the rest of the girls renewed their cackling. "If you three can't pull your minds out of the toilet, then I'll go to bed and won't tell you anything else," Heather fumed. She was tired of not being able to get a sentence out without being laughed at, even if she could see the humor in the situation from her friend's perspective. She mentally debated what sort of charm she'd have to use in order to seal her curtains closed, just in case she needed to follow through on her threat.
Whether it was because they were finally taking her seriously, or because they were done having a laugh at her expense, Lavender, Pavarti, and Ginny sobered up long enough to Heather to give them a few more details. "Are you two going on an actual date soon?" asked Pavarti interestedly.
Heather caught Lavender's eyes flick away from her face and down towards her trunk, going wide with excitement as they moved. "Erm, I don't actually know. That didn't quite come up," she said slowly.
"Sounds like a few other things came up though. One in part-OW!" Ginny's suggestive remark was cut off as Hermione playfully but forcefully slapped her across the back of her head. "Sorry," Ginny grunted, rubbing the spot with one hand. "It was just too easy, you know?"
Heather rolled her eyes and ignored her. "Where do you think we could go?" she asked Pavarti, eager to center the conversation on something a bit more productive.
"Room of Requirement?" Pavarti suggested. "I know of a few couples that have used it for dates."
Hermione shook her head. "No, it's not there anymore."
"Maybe the kitchens?" added Lavender after some thought. Her forehead was furrowed in concentration, making the thin white lines crossing her face stand out sharply.
"Well wherever he takes you," Ginny said, not enjoying being cut out of the conversation, "we're going to have to figure out-"
"What I'm going to wear," Heather cut her off with a wave of her hand. "I know, I know. Well, while you mentally go through every piece of clothing in mine, Hermione's, and your collection, I'm going to shower." She got off her bed and walked briskly towards the bathroom.
"Better make that a cold shower!" Ginny called in her wake before squawking in pain again as Hermione once more applied her hand to the back of her head.
A cold shower was actually very good advice, not that Heather planned on telling Ginny that. She still felt an unnatural warmth spreading across her body, and it was only the icy water that allowed her to calm down long enough to begin to think clearly again. Someone, probably Hermione, had brought her shower bag and a pair of pajamas into the bathroom, unheard under the noise of the running water. She forced herself to make changing for bed and twisting her hair into a braid take twice as long as normal, unwilling to face her roommates again until her mind was completely clear.
In the time it had taken Heather to shower, Ginny had gotten up off Hermione's bed and was now practically inside Heather's trunk, rooting around for clothes. This feat was only possible because Heather had finally broken down and asked Hermione to help her magically expand it a few weeks ago. "You know," Heather said to Ginny's backside as she returned to her bed, "I don't remember you telling any of us about how your date with Susan went. So, I think you expecting me to tell you all about me and Neville seems a bit rich."
At this, Ginny jerked backwards and almost slammed her already sore head on the lid. "It was…erm…nice," she said slowly. A smile blossomed across her face, saying far more than her choice of words did.
"Nice, huh?" Heather replied smugly. "Now who's tongue tied."
"What? It was nice," Ginny argued back, tossing a pair of jeans onto the floor next to her.
Heather's flash of irritation at Ginny's disregard for her property was cut off by Pavarti asking hesitantly, "So, umm, what's it like kissing a girl?"
Ginny sat back on her heels and swiveled on the spot to look at her. "It's not that different from kissing a boy really. Except, well, girls have more places to feel up during, you know."
Pavarti considered this while Lavender piped up, "I dunno. I think I like feeling a firm chest over a pair of boobs."
Ginny shrugged and returned to digging through Heather's clothes. "Suit yourself," she said after levering herself once more into Heather's trunk. "Boobs are more fun to play with, though." She said it so offhandedly that it took several minutes for the stunned silence that followed to break. Everyone's eyes had settled on her read end, the most prominent part of her that was still visible.
"Does that mean…" Heather started to ask, amazed at her bravery for asking while also wondering if she really wanted to know the answer.
Ginny extracted herself again and glanced up at her. She fixed Heather with a daring sort of smirk and asked, "are you asking just how far we've gone?"
"On second thought, no I don't think I am actually," Heather replied. She laid back on her bed and tried to suppress her curiosity.
Pavarti's squeal split the air as she chucked her pillow at Ginny. "Well, I bloody well am. Spill!"
Ginny caught the pillow before it landed and shifted around to smirk at Pavarti. "Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies," she grinned, using one of the twin's old favorite lines.
"Just tell me you two have figured out how to lock a door," Heather groaned, pressing her face into her pillow. She felt the questioning looks being thrown at her and sat back up. Briefly, she told the story of just how she'd found out about Ginny and Susan.
Conversation broke up here, while Pavarti looked lost in thought and Ginny and Lavender began working through outfit ideas for different sorts of dates Neville might plan. Heather laid back on her bed again, ready to be alone but also feeling like she couldn't just do so until everyone else was ready for bed. It took her a while to notice that Lavender was staring at her. "Heather, can I ask you something?" she asked in a whisper as though she didn't want anyone else to hear the question.
"Sure," Heather answered, rotating her head on the pillow so she could look at Lavender without having to sit up.
For a few moments it looked like Lavender was caught between wanting to ask her question and worry that she might be crossing a line in their still newly repaired friendship. "How did you figure out you were a girl?" She blurted the words out rapidly before bracing herself in case this had been the wrong way to phrase it.
Heather blinked several times in surprise. No one had ever asked her that before. "Erm, what specifically are you asking," she replied, propping herself up on one elbow.
Lavender was blushing furiously now. "Like, what made you realize you weren't a boy."
Heather's immediate reply was cut off by Ginny, who held up a sweater for Lavender to inspect, not realizing that another conversation was going on. Heather used this distraction to try and come up with an answer. Once Lavender's attention had returned to her, she said, "Well, it all sort of started in third year. I started wearing girl's clothes with Hermione's help and it just sort of went from there until I figured it all out."
Lavender's brow furrowed again, this time in confusion. "Right, okay. But what made you want to wear girl's clothes in the first place. Did you just ask Hermione one day out of the blue or…" she trailed off. Heather had unintentionally looked around at Hermione, nonverbally asking just how much she should tell.
"What?" Lavender asked across them, catching the shared look.
At Hermione's nod, Heather gulped. After all, it had been almost five years, and it hadn't really been her fault in the first place. Still, she'd never told this story to anyone besides Ginny before. Maybe Lavender wouldn't react too badly. She tried, and failed, to meet Lavender's gaze and instead settled for staring at her stomach. "So, erm…do you recall back in our third year, a few months into the term one of your uniforms went missing?"
"No," Lavender replied curiously. "Wait, yes! It vanished after I put it in the laundry and came back after Christmas. How did you know about that?"
Again, the dormitory felt much warmer than Heather thought comfortable. By now both Ginny and Pavarti had begun paying attention. "Erm, it sort of ended up in my trunk."
"It ended up in your trunk? How in Merlin's name did that happen?" Lavender asked with a trace of suspicion.
This was going about as well as Heather had feared all those years ago. Lavender clearly thought she had somehow snuck up here and stolen her clothes. "I swear I still don't know how it happened," she said almost pleadingly. "It just showed up one day after quidditch practice."
"She's telling the truth," Hermione vouched for her. Lavender shifted her gaze, still looking as though she didn't believe it. "I made her swear that she hadn't stolen it when I found her wearing it."
Lavender's face clouded over, hiding whatever she might be feeling behind a hard mask. Then, a sly grin broke out and she faced Hermione again. "You caught her? Oh, please tell me there's a story there."
"She was twirling in front of a mirror when I walked into her dormitory over the Christmas holiday," Hermione replied, her voice mirroring the smile blossoming across her face.
Heather's sigh of relief that Lavender wasn't upset turned into a shriek of indignation at Hermione's depiction of the event. "I was not twirling!" she screamed as everyone else laughed. "I just felt good looking like that."
"And you did," said Hermione soothingly. "But Heather, you were definitely preening."
No one in the seventh-year dormitory got much sleep that night. After the interrogation of Heather finally wound down, Lavender and Pavarti kept them all up with loud giggles as they swapped gossip, often pulling Heather back into their conversation. Truth be told, Heather wasn't all that tired, but she would have preferred ensconcing herself in the privacy of her bed's curtains rather than further conversation. At around three in the morning Ginny finally left, telling them all good night through thick yawns, and Hermione told them all to go to sleep, much to Heather's relief. She had forgotten just how much of a chatterbox Lavender could be when the conversation centered around boys, clothes, and most importantly, boys.
It felt as though every eye in the school were on Heather and Neville the next morning as they walked down to the Great Hall together, hands firmly clasped together. Try as she might to ignore the attention, something about it continued sending shivers racing down her spine. Though, she thought after Neville squeezed her hand, this sensation might have nothing to do with the gawkers at all. In true Hogwarts fashion, word of her very public scene yesterday had spread like fiendfyre, because even though everyone was watching them, no one seemed all that surprised at the fact they were a couple.
As the week passed, so too did notice of the school. There were several well-wishers who stopped to speak to Heather about it, either when she was alone or with Neville. Of course, on the other hand, there were those who, for whatever reason. were not happy for her. Most likely led by Romilda, these few were content to limit their displeasure to whispered threats or dark looks. Both of which were easy to tune out for both of them, who by long experience were used to such things.
Back in their daily routine of school, it was hard for them to find time for slipping away to spend time together. To Heather's disappointment, their afternoon down by the lake was not soon repeated, although the memory of it was never very far from her thoughts. Her mind began to wander during lessons, straying far from what it was she was supposed to be doing, often causing loud and exciting things to happen as a result. Unfortunately, this tendency only got worse whenever she and Neville shared a lesson.
That didn't mean that they weren't together quite a bit. In fact, Heather found it odd just how surprised she was at his constant presence. Particularly in light of how much time they'd spent together before she had inadvertently requested he take a step backwards. Neville appeared to take great pleasure in walking with her between lessons, often times risking being late for his duties as Head Boy in doing so. Over Heather's insistence, he even offered to wait for her outside a girl's toilet on the third floor that Friday while she dashed in after Charms.
Drying her hands on a towel and reaching for her bag that she had propped up on a nearby wall, Heather heard the door swing open and closed behind her. A quick glance in the cracked and grimy mirror over the sink showed that a blonde girl in Hufflepuff robes had entered the bathroom and was standing there staring at her.
"H-hannah," Heather said, wishing that she'd be able to stop the stammer from escaping her lips. Looking away from the mirror and into Hannah's face, her stomach did a twist at the sight of her grim expression. Like a wave crashing onto a beach, Heather realized in that instant that just because Neville had only been carrying on with Hannah to fend of Romilda, that didn't mean that Hannah hadn't been in it for more.
But Hannah did not speak. Instead, she spun on her heel and stormed from the toilet, allowing the door to bang shut behind her. Feeling subdued and wondering just how upset Hannah was, Heather emerged into the corridor and found a pale looking Neville waiting for her. Without being aware of it, Heather trudged towards him and allowed her head to fall against his chest. She had discovered that the top of her head fit perfectly under his chin, something that gave her a great deal of comfort in that moment.
"Want to talk about it?" Neville asked quietly.
Curious at what Hannah might have said to him before entering the toilet, and also hesitant to know, Heather hesitated before speaking. "Not really," she replied at last.
"Well," Neville said, lifting his head and leaning back to look down at her, "do you have any dinner plans tonight?"
Interestedly, Heather tilted her head to the side. "Just eating in the Great Hall, why?"
A sly smile broke out across Neville's face. He shrugged while still keeping his hands placed comfortable on her waist. "I was just wondering if you'd like to join me for something a bit more private."
"Just how 'private' are we talking?" Heather asked, her heart beginning to flutter wildly.
"You and me, and a firmly closed door," Neville smirked.
A few of Lavender and Ginny's cruder jokes sent shivers coursing from her chest down to firmly lodge in her stomach. Mental pictures of just what Neville might intend to do in such a circumstance threatened to make her blush brightly enough to be mistaken for a Christmas bauble. It was only through sheer force of will that she was able to nod, not trusting her voice in such circumstances.
Perhaps catching something of her thoughts in her face, Neville began to stammer. "I…I didn't mean…" Heather thought he looked extremely cute, fumbling badly for words. His mouth opened and closed several times before she got enough control of her own self to take pity on him. "It's alright," she laughed aloud. "Does this mean you are asking me out on an actual date, Neville Longbottom?"
"Well," replied Neville, grinning and blushing probably as much as Heather still was, "we haven't been out on one yet, so…" he trailed off.
Pulling a face, Heather snickered. "I guess me declaring that you're my boyfriend in front of the entire house doesn't exactly count, does it?"
The bell cut off their conversation, promptly reminding them that there were still lessons to be attended that afternoon. Together they raced off down the corridor towards the nearest staircase down to the Entrance Hall. All through Herbology, Heather tried coaxing details of whatever Neville had planned out of him, with nothing to show for her efforts by the time the last bell of the afternoon rang. The only hint he gave her was that she should dress nicer than she would for a normal dinner in the Great Hall. What she heard was that she should probably dress very nicely. Maybe he'd set something up in the kitchens, so they'd have privacy together.
Beyond that, there weren't really that many places inside the castle where a couple could go to be alone. Without the Room of Requirement, that really only left a short list of options. She supposed he could take her to the prefect's bathroom, but even as beautiful as it was, there was just something about eating dinner in an overlarge toilet that made her hope Neville had a better idea then that. Another option was an empty classroom, and Hogwarts certainly had its fair share of those.
She was halfway out of her uniform when an idea crossed her mind that made her stop still. Was it possible that Neville might ask to borrow Hagrid's cabin? It was certainly spacious enough, not to mention private. But still, might it not be a bit too…suggestive?
"Ooooooh, someone's blushing," catcalled an excited voice from the doorway. Whirling around, Heather saw Lavender standing there, smirking gleefully at Heather and leaning lightly on her walking stick. She didn't really need it much anymore, only relying on it in the evenings after a full day of walking up and down staircases. "Are you going to wear that?" she asked, pointing at the article of clothing in Heather's hands with the tip of her cane.
Heather had been holding up the dress she had bought on her last trip into Hogsmeade, considering it as an option. By design it was a two-piece ensemble, consisting of a dark red keyhole neckline dress under long, thin, flowing robes that clasped with a single clasp right under the throat. After looking at both pieces held up before her in front of the mirror, she had feared it would be too much for a first date, particularly one that she didn't know much about. "I'm not sure, what do you think?" She had been hoping that she might get in and out of the dormitory quickly without being caught. But, then again, she'd never been able to elude her friends. Not even when the fate of the wizarding world had weighed in the balance.
Running a critical eye over the dress, then up and down Heather several times, Lavender began asking questions about the date. Considering how little she knew, Heather answered as best as she could. Finally, Lavender sighed wearily. Resting her cane against her bed and dropping her school bag on the threadbare rug, she advanced on Heather and gave her a soft smile. "Definitely."
A surprisingly short amount of time later, Heather crept down to the Entrance Hall safely hidden under the folds of her invisibility cloak. Feeling anxious enough already, she didn't want to deal with anyone ogling her dressed this nicely. Neville had asked her to wait for him near the two stone gargoyles that flanked the entrance to the Staff Room, and she managed to be there nearly ten minutes early and without issue.
Tucked in next to one of the stone statues, who was thankfully dozing and not making snide comments, Heather watched as students walked this way and that across the hall, going to and from dinner. Over her pounding heart, she heard the distant bells chiming seven o'clock, the time Neville had stated he'd come for her. The Entrance Hall had grown steadily emptier in the last few minutes, and she wondered if it would be completely empty whenever Neville arrived.
He arrived two minutes late, just as Dennis Creevey and a group of students emerged from dinner and began climbing the marble staircase. Rather than coming down from one of the upper levels, or from out in the grounds, Neville emerged from one of the side doors of the hall that lead to a corridor of mostly unused classrooms. He had changed since Herbology, replacing his school robes with a light blue sweater vest over a white button-down shirt that was tucked into a pair of black pants. He had also combed his hair, and in the light of a nearby torch it shone, making Heather think he had applied some sort of potion to keep it in place.
His eyes scanned around the apparently empty hall, and it wasn't until she saw his face fall a little that she remembered she was still invisible. Sliding off the cloak and out of cover, she ignored the squawking gargoyle who woke up at the sudden movement and strode towards him. Gaze drawn both by her sudden appearance and the litany of curse words from the ranting statue, Neville caught sight of her. Heather watched his eyes rove up and down across her several times in the short span of seconds it took for her to reach him. His face lifted into an approving smile. Of course, her eyes weren't idle either. She took him in just as thoroughly, marveling once again just how she could have been so blind not to notice how attractive he was before now.
"Wow," he said, moving closer and continuing his inspection. He stopped a foot away from her, as though he thought she might vanish in a puff of smoke if he got too close. Or maybe it was that he was worried about wrinkling her dress if he scooped her up.
"Wow yourself," Heather giggled in reply. Then, to her utter horror, and for the first time she could ever remember in her entire life, her giggle turned into a loud snort. She went pink, mortified that she had just made such an undignified noise, and cursing cruel fate that it had to happen now of all times.
The spell that had kept them so enthralled with the sight of each other was instantly broken. Neville, who was clearly trying very hard not to laugh, reached out and took hold of her hands. His were very warm, making Heather suddenly aware of the fact that her dress did very little in the way of keeping her warm. He pulled her towards him and planted a chaste kiss on her lips. "I hope you're hungry," he said after leaning back, though without letting go of her hands.
"Starving," she admitted, hoping her stomach would remain silent and not add to her mortification.
With the grin of someone who had a secret and couldn't wait to spill it, Neville guided her back towards the door he had just come through. "Well, that just means we'll have plenty of time to talk." He held the door open for her and guided her through it.
Heather found it difficult to restrain her innate curiosity and just let him be in control. She gazed interestedly around the corridor as they walked together. The torches had been lit, which managed to dispell the general feeling of abandonment she remembered from the last time she'd been down this was. Racking her memory, she figured that must have been about two years ago, and it did seem slightly better trafficked then it had then. "Where are you taking me?" she asked, unable to hold the question in.
"Well, I was trying to think of somewhere we could be alone," Neville explained as they passed another closed classroom door. "It had to be somewhere we could eat, which ruled out the library. And, I wanted it to not be boring, and-" his speech had gotten steadily quicker the longer he went on.
Deciding he was probably more nervous than he was letting on, Heather cut him off, hoping that it would let him take a breath if nothing else. "Good call on the library," she laughed. "Can you just imagine Madam Pince's reaction to us eating around her precious books? She'd probably have a heart attack and die then and there."
"Right," Neville gulped, getting his voice back under control. "Well, since the Room of Requirement is out, and it's too cold to go out into the grounds…" his voice trailed off as he brought them to a stop outside classroom eleven. "…I thought this was the next best thing." He pulled the door open and led her inside.
A few years ago, this classroom had been just as empty and unused as the rest of the corridor. It certainly would not have been an impressive date location, to say the least. But then Umbridge had come along, and during her reign of terror had fired Professor Trelawney. Amongst other things, this prompted Dumbledore to hire Firenze, a centaur from the forest to teach Divination lessons. Since he couldn't use Trelawney's old classroom, the headmaster had converted this space to suit the centaur's needs.
Thick, soft grass brushed against the skin on either side of Heather's feet through her shoe's open sides. The soft dirt of the classroom floor made her momentarily wobble on her heels. Awestruck at the view around her, she barely noticed as Neville crowded in closer to make sure she didn't fall. Dumbledore had spared no effort in replicating a forest clearing all those years ago. Having not been back in this room since her fifth year, Heather had forgotten just how realistic it was. Thick tree trunks appeared to be growing straight out of the floor, leaving a rough oval of open space in the center of the classroom. She recalled Firenze having them lay there, looking up at the stars while he tried to teach them how to read omens in wisps of smoke. Glancing upwards, Heather could see that the ceiling above them was littered with bright stars, each of them twinkling down at them with no clouds or even the moon to dim their beauty.
Finally able to tear her eyes away from the vista above them, Heather noticed the round table and two chairs that stood in the middle of the simulated forest clearing. The table was covered in a white cloth, and on it were placed two ornate, silver candelabras, the candles in them giving off a soft glow that did not reach far enough to hinder her adjusting vision. Something about them seemed familiar to her, and she leaned closer to inspect them, while at the same time maintaining a firm grip on Neville's arm. As she had suspected, the Black family crest stood out proudly on the shining metal.
Turning, she arched an eyebrow at Neville. He was watching her, but it took him a moment to come around and realize that she was staring at him. "Oh, yeah," he grinned sheepishly. "I didn't think you'd mind, and my umm…assistant volunteered them."
Heather looked around quickly, wondering if she'd somehow missed something else hiding amongst the trees. "Your assistant?" she asked curiously.
"Oh, right. You can come out now" Neville called, seemingly to the trees because Heather still saw no one else in the room.
A moment later there was a loud crack and Kreacher appeared next to them both, bowing low. "Mistress," he intoned creakily. "Kreacher has missed serving you these past months."
"You helped Neville with this, Kreacher?" Heather asked.
Kreacher blinked up at her. "Of course, Mistress. Master Longbottom said he was going to ask Mistress to dinner and asked if Kreacher could help him. Kreacher was only too happy to oblige. Kreacher hopes Mistress is not upset that Kreacher allowed the use of the family candlesticks."
A flash of worry crossed the elf's face. "Of course not," Heather said quickly. Personally, she would have been happy to never see the damned things again for as long as she lived, but saying so to Kreacher would only hurt his feelings. "I…thank you, Kreacher," she said instead.
He bowed low before addressing Neville. "I have had dinner ready for when Mistress and Master were seated. Shall Kreacher serve it now?"
Neville gave Heather an inquiring look before nodding. "That works for us." With a snap of his fingers Kreacher was gone. Crossing to the table, Neville pulled out a chair and helped Heather slide into it.
"Please tell me he's started calling you 'Master Longbottom' because he decided to and not because you want him too," Heather asked in good natured exasperation as Neville settled in opposite her.
He blinked once before sighing. "I never should have mentioned this was a date. That's when it started. He probably thinks we're...well, that's why he's doing it." He finished lamely.
Heather rolled her eyes, then quickly recovered as Kreacher returned, balancing a large tureen of soup in one hand. Deftly he ladled it out into two bowls before vanishing and returning again, this time with two long stemmed glasses and a bottle of wine.
"It is the 1803 Elf made wine, Mistress," he said, bowing and presenting the label of the bottle to her. "Kreacher thought Mistress and Master would enjoy it."
Heather, to whom different wines meant absolutely nothing, said, "Erm, that's fine Kreacher. It's…it's not too strong, is it?"
Kreacher, who had no doubt not forgotten about her bout with alcohol nodded fervently. "Of course, Mistress. Kreacher selected it because it is very light."
At Heather's shrug, he poured them both glasses, then, after a last appraising look at the table, said "If Mistress and Master require anything else, Kreacher will come. Kreacher will bring the next course when Mistress and Master have finished their soup."
"Thanks, Kreacher, and lay off the Master and Mistress stuff. We've talked about this," she said plaintively, knowing even as she said it that it was no use.
True to form, Kreacher bowed low. "Of course, Mistress." Then he snapped his fingers and was gone.
"I thought house elves had to follow their owner's orders," Neville asked interestedly as he dipped his spoon into his soup.
"Kreacher's always been a bit different. Besides, I've told him before not to think of me as his owner, so I think he exercises a bit of leeway with anything short of a direct order." She raised her own spoon and lowered it into the bowl, filling it with the thick, creamy soup. Lifting it to her lips, she blew gently on it before taking a tentative sip. Some sort of chowder she decided. As Neville was presently enjoying his dinner, she carried on. "I just wish he'd use that leeway the way I'd like him too instead of being a stickler for tradition. But, oh well."
Once the topic of Kreacher faded away, Heather started to feel an unease creep between them as they finished their soups. It was almost like a fog settling around them, and she suddenly found herself nervous to break it. Now that she thought about it, this was really the first time they'd been properly alone since that afternoon by the lake. Even in the corridors they'd still be surrounded by others and it had been easier to find topics of conversation.
Kreacher returned the second Neville's spoon dropped into his empty bowl and began laying out the main course, some sort of fish that smelled delectable. It melted in Heather's mouth with the first bite, and she began eating it with gusto, in part to distract herself from the continuing silence. They made infrequent eye contact between them as they ate, only to look away the moment they caught the other staring. The fish came and went in complete quiet, interrupted only by the clinking of silverware on plates.
Finally, as Kreacher once more appeared to deliver dessert, Heather found she'd had enough. She had picked up her spoon to dive into a small mountain of chocolate ice cream, but instead slammed it back down on the table. The noise it made in the clearing startled her almost as much as it did Neville. "How is this so hard?" she asked, half laughing half annoyed. "We've fought death eaters together, why is talking over dinner suddenly impossible?"
Neville's face had slid from shock to fear before a smile flickered on his lips. "I'm not sure," he replied. "I guess it's just different now, you know?"
Hoping that an attempt at humor was what the situation called for, Heather tried, "Yeah, well don't try and use a line about getting lost in my beauty or something. My dinner might just come back up." She delivered this with a wink, hoping it hadn't come out as harshly as it now sounded to her ears.
The smile that Neville had tried to repress now spread wide across his face, making his eyes twinkle in the candlelight. A warmth spread outwards from him that did nothing to warm the air of the classroom but swept over Heather like a stiff breeze. "And here I thought you appreciated the over-the-top approach," he said wryly. "Or, is that just from George Weasley?"
Feeling relieved that they were not only talking but also laughing, Heather screwed up her face in mock disgust. "Ugh, really Neville? Bringing up the competition like that? I dunno, isn't that pretty risky for a first date?"
She picked her spoon back up just as his foot found hers under the table. Feeling a jolt race up her leg, she almost missed Neville's reply. "I don't know, I think I like my chances here."
Now that conversation had resumed it began to come easier for them to maintain it. When dessert had gone the same way as the rest of dinner, Neville stood and gestured for Heather to do the same. Kreacher did not return to clear the table, which she took as a sign that he was giving them some time alone. Rather than risk her ankles walking on the grass in heels, Heather reached down and removed her shoes, chucking them back towards the door and reveling in the sensation of cool grass under her feet.
With both their wine glasses in his hands and the bottle tucked under one arm, Neville led her towards a large blanket that Heather was sure had not been there when they'd entered the classroom. It was laid out at the base of the largest tree visible. Neville sat first, balancing the glasses on the ground, then allowed Heather to lean back into him. His chest felt very solid behind her back as they both looked up at the stars, once more lost in the beauty of the night's sky that five years of Astronomy lessons had not been able to rob away.
"So, how'd you talk Firenze into letting you use his classroom?" Heather whispered.
"I asked," Neville replied simply. He shrugged and Heather used the movement to get even more comfortable against him. "It makes sense. After all, it's not like I was going to try and drag you out into the forest this time of year. At least not and expect to get another date." He added with a soft chuckle.
"I always said you were smart," Heather smiled upwards at his chin. "I'll bet you didn't even need to play the 'Heather Potter' card to get him to agree."
Taking a sip of wine, Neville said, "no, but don't think I won't use that if I have too. Isn't that one of the perks of being your boyfriend?"
"I knew you were only in it for the benefits," Heather teased, also reaching for her own glass. Kreacher had done well. The wine had a light taste that tickled her taste buds pleasantly but did not rob her of control.
Time had long since been lost track of. It was as though it simply did not exist in this enchanted forest clearing. In fact, Heather had to remind herself that they were even in the castle at all. As far as she was concerned they were a thousand miles away, alone in the entire world. She would have been content to lay here for eternity, hands entwined with Neville's across her stomach. That was, until he suggested that he might enjoy a completely different form of conversation.