HP fic: The Wooing of Hannah and Neville. (WIP) part 2
Title: The Wooing of Hannah and Neville.
Author:
pathology_doc
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG
Notes/Warnings: Continued from Part 1. Based on JKR snippets and interviews, I'm assuming wizard father, Muggle mother, Hannah an only child, and living in the Muggle world. Follows book and JKR interview canon.
Hannah's father came home from work on the evening of Hannah's date with Neville and found her in her room, dressed to kill and applying makeup.
"Well well well," he said. "Dressed to the nines and not in black, for once. Where might you be going, young lady?"
"Out," she replied confidently.
"I see. And might this going out perchance involve young gentlemen?"
"Perhaps," she replied, more hesitantly this time. She didn't want to take the outcome for granted, after all - Neville might just want to talk, and that would be fine. "And perhaps the odd drink or two as well."
Her father's voice became reproving. "Hannah, you know what I've told you about underage drinking. You can be arrested and charged, and if they take your wand from you..."
Hannah sighed. She'd hoped he would draw the right conclusion and leave her to her own devices, but he did worry for all the right reasons. "Dad, it's okay; it's at the Leaky Cauldron. I'm not underage there."
"Well that's different. I guess it narrows down the identity of your would-be date too. Do I get a name?"
She finished her makeup, turned and smiled impishly at him. "Mmm, maybe not. I might leave you to guess that one."
"Not Potter, is it?"
"Harry? Merlin's beard, no." She dug her wand out of her bedside drawer, dropped it into the wrist sheath she was already wearing. "Anyway, Harry's been Ginny Weasley's personal property since halfway through Sixth Year. But this one is a Gryffindor, so I'm sure you'll approve if I bring him home to meet you."
"You be sure to take appropriate precautions if you bring him home for anything else, young lady. I'm not quite ready to be a grandfather yet."
Hannah laughed. "Don't worry, dad; I've had that covered for a while now." With that, she picked up her favourite shawl, tossed it over her shoulders and slipped her stockinged feet into a very special pair of high heels. These were a recent invention of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, and had been Ginny's idea - if they detected genuine fear on the part of the wearer, they instantly transformed into comfortable high-grip shoes for fight or flight. She didn't at all think she'd need to run from Neville (if anything, she'd be the one chasing him down), but she was still feeling sort of jumpy this soon after the battle... and even if every surviving Death Eater was now safely locked in Azkaban, all their sympathisers were not.
She could have travelled the Floo network right into the Leaky's fireplace, but she'd spent most of the day indoors for one reason or another and she badly wanted a breath of fresh air. Accordingly, she apparated into a quiet alley that was carefully screened from Muggles for just that purpose and enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the Muggle crowds for a short time before crossing over into the Wizarding world.
Her heart was pounding as she made her way through the interface that led into the Leaky. She wondered why this should be - there was no danger, or she would already have faced it - Death Eaters had already shown little regard for where they committed their crimes, and she would merely wind up on the coroner's bench as one more young woman whose death was mysteriously unexplained or put down to some almost impossible-to-diagnose heart defect (especially with her mother having been certified dead for the same reason). Neville? But Neville shouldn't make her nervous - as far as his fellow students were concerned, Slytherins aside, he was probably the most harmless person in all of Hogwarts. Someone like George Weasley would have been a different matter; he was a smooth seducer who'd have her in bed within a few hours if that was what he wanted - but she'd have known to expect that from the start. Neville shouldn't be making her nervous, unless for some bizarre reason she was actually harbouring feelings for the man...
And then she saw him sitting quietly at a corner table and her heart skipped a beat and butterflies danced in her stomach, and there was no getting away from the fact that she did. What they were, she wasn't sure. No doubt she'd have a better idea by the end of the night. She smiled, waved and walked over to greet him. By the time she was at the table, he'd stood and pulled her chair out for her. Three seconds later, he'd taken her shawl and pushed the seat in as she sat down, all the little gentlemanly things that told her the Sorting Hat had been right to put him in Gryffindor.
He sat down opposite her and said "Hi, Hannah" in a voice that - like hers - smacked of post-battle fatigue and too damn many funerals gone to, and she admitted silently to herself that her cheerfulness before her father earlier that evening had been a carefully constructed front.
"Hi," she replied. "How are you going?"
"Well, I've finally finished burying all my dead friends. You?"
Hannah nodded. "Yeah, me too. I saw you and Harry in the background at most of the funerals I went to. Thanks for being unobtrusive about it."
Neville lowered his eyes. "I sort of felt obliged, and Harry agreed - we did lead you lot into it after all."
"You... Neville, you know we all would have stayed for the end, don't you? Even without the DA. The minute Pansy tried to turn Harry in... I think that did it for all of us."
"Sure," Neville replied, not entirely believing it. He knew he'd have those deaths on his conscience for quite a while - none of them had been as experienced as he was, most of them not quite as good (though one could make an exception for Fred Weasley), almost all of them terribly naive about their chances (again with the exception of Fred, although he sometimes wondered about Colin). "Would you like something to drink? I've... ah, I don't really know what you like."
"Butterbeer would be nice to start," Hannah replied. "Something we all used to like once upon a time."
Neville grinned, left briefly and came back with two open bottles. "I suppose we could find something happier to talk about."
"The weather?" Hannah replied. "No, I'd rather get all the miserable talking out of the way first. You know, have a good cry about it and move on, and all that." She was lying through her teeth and she knew it - she still cried herself into hysterics on her father's shoulder about her mother sometimes, and it'd been worse on the anniversary of hearing the news - but Neville didn't call her on it and she suspected he understood. He'd have to.
It turned out he did, because the very next thing he said was, "You're not the only one who's lost a parent, you know."
"I thought your parents were in St Mungo's," Hannah said. "I mean... nobody ever said why, but..."
"I asked Harry to keep that one quiet while he was running the DA and afterwards too," Neville interrupted, "because I didn't want to have to keep explaining over and over again. But I guess you should know. You remember Bellatrix Lestrange, the Death Eater Ron and Ginny's mother killed..."
Hannah grinned. "That was... I hate to call anything about that nightmare magnificent, but that was one of the two truly magnificent things that happened before the end."
Neville raised his eyebrows. "Really? What was the other?" But he didn't need an answer to that question, because Hannah's expression was one of open adoration. "Oh. It... really wasn't that special. I mean, once it was clear his spell wasn't working, it was sort of... you know, automatic."
"For you perhaps," she whispered. "Or for Harry, or one of the teachers or an auror. Not for most of the rest of us. But sorry, I interrupted. Your family?"
Neville explained. Hannah gaped, shut her mouth, dabbed at suddenly moist eyes. "Oh Neville..."
Neville handed her a handkerchief. "It's... something you learn to live with. I hate the idea of wizards killing other wizards, even Death Eaters; but I have to admit, Bellatrix was the one Death Eater apart from Voldemort I was glad to see dead. Sort of wish I could've taken her down myself, but I agree with you; it was pretty awesome to watch."
"I think the awsomest thing of all was that any of us made it through," Hannah replied. "Thank Merlin for the House Elves and Centaurs. And Slughorn coming back - who'd have thought the Head of Slytherin House would do that?"
"Slughorn was always a good guy, Hannah - or at least not a bad one," Neville said, noticing that Hannah's drink was nearly gone. "Another drink for you? Butterbeer again, or something stronger?"
"Mead will do nicely," Hannah said. "One of these days, once Hogsmeade's finished getting rebuilt, we're going to have to try Madame Rosmerta's."
"You said it." Neville went, enquired at the bar and found to his delight that it was in stock here. "Two pints, then, please," he said, dropping a selection of coins on the table.
The Leaky's owner was standing behind the bar, and recognised him. "Veterans drink here free," he replied, pushing the coins back toward Neville. "You especially."
Neville made to offer payment again, but the man was insistent. "There are only three men in the world who ever told You-Know-Who to go fuck himself," he whispered, "and all of them are greater wizards than I'll ever be. Keep your money, Neville Longbottom. As long as I own this place, you've earned that right."
Neville knew it would be insulting to insist further. "Thanks," he replied, slipping the coins back into his pocket and picking up the drinks. He returned to his table, put the drinks down. "Guess whose mead this is?" he asked Hannah as he took his seat again.
"You're joking!" Hannah replied.
"No I'm not," Neville said. "Seems Rosmerta doesn't only sell her mead in Hogsmeade."
Hannah picked up her glass. "Maybe we should think of something to toast, then. It's special stuff after all; it deserves a special purpose."
Neville nodded. "To all those we lost, and to those still with us."
"To the survivors," Hannah echoed in reverse, "and to the glorious dead."
"Glorious?" Neville asked, glass paused at his lips.
"It's a Muggle thing from my mother's side," Hannah told him. "Why don't we go for a walk afterwards and I'll show you."
Neville nodded, accepting her explanation if not her invitation, and once more raised his glass. "The glorious dead," they whispered together, and then drank.
"That was lovely," Hannah said when she'd finally put down her glass. "A decent drop, raised in a good cause. Shall we take that walk?"
"Sure," Neville replied. He could see the evening turning into a maudlin session of drinking and remembrance, which was bound to end with her in tears and him not knowing how to comfort her - or worse, trying to comfort her in an inappropriate way. They reversed the gentlemanly and ladylike ritual of sitting down and he offered her his arm as they left.
"Does this mean we're going out?" Hannah asked as she took it.
"No, but... well, I heard it's what Muggle gentlemen do."
Hannah laughed. "A hundred years ago, maybe. But it's alright, Neville; if you want to play the perfect Muggle gentleman I don't mind a bit. You're one of the truest gentlemen at Hogwarts after all."
Neville didn't know what to say to that, and settled for a shy smile. He disengaged his wand arm long enough to tap the magical wall and let them out into the Muggle world, then they walked out arm-in-arm together.
"Where are we going?" Neville asked. He had explored Wizarding London more than once, but never been on the Muggle side more than very briefly.
"The place Muggles call Whitehall," Hannah replied, using her grip on his arm to gently guide him through human traffic and stop him for the vehicular sort when appropriate.
"Oh that," Neville said. "I've heard Hermione mention it. Isn't that where the Muggle government lives?"
"Works, not lives," Hannah clarified. "Pretty close, though." They could have apparated, but as before, Hannah wanted and needed the fresh air. She was also enjoying Neville's company and wanted to drag it out as much as she could.
"Here we are," she said when they eventually came to the spot. "See the dates in Roman Numerals?"
"The MCM business?" Neville asked.
"Yeah, that. Nineteen fourteen to nineteen nineteen, nineteen thirty nine to nineteen forty five. That second year should be eighteen because that's when the fighting stopped, but they didn't actually sign the treaty until the year after. One of my Great Grandads and a whole bunch of his brothers on Mum's side went to the first war and didn't come back. Muggle wars aren't like wizarding wars, of course - they always kill each other, mostly because they don't have stunning spells and there's always plenty of Muggles left over."
"Is that how you know this place?" Neville asked.
"Yes and no. Mum's dad went to the second war - the second Muggle World War - and made it through, so he comes here every year and remembers his friends who didn't. I used to come with him until I started going to Hogwarts, and then we... well, we had to let him in on the secret or it would've broken his heart; he'd have thought I didn't care any more."
"Are you going to tell him about the Wizarding war?" Neville asked.
"There's only so much you can tell a Muggle," Hannah said. "Dad always warns me about that. On the other hand, he knows Grandpa knows about me. Besides, Grandpa knows how to keep a secret and he won't need to keep it for very long; he's very old for a Muggle. And he might even be impressed that I finally understand." Unconsciously, she slid her hand down his arm, slipped her fingers into his. His hand was warm and comforting, and she liked that he sensed her need to have hers held.
"And you're not at Hogwarts any more, either," Neville said. "So you can keep coming back here now."
"That will be good, yes," Hannah said. "That would be... I don't suppose nice, it's a very sad place to come and see, but it will really mean something when I turn up with Grandpa this time around. More than it's ever done. He'll be thinking of all his lost friends from the war, and... and I'll be thinking of mine." She sniffed, tried to blink back tears. "Would you take me home now, please?"
He knew she meant accompany me home, since he had absolutely no idea where she lived. He leaned in close. "Sure. Do you want to go somewhere quiet and apparate away?"
She nodded, and they drifted off into Muggle-free shadows before vanishing. Neville held onto her arm in preparation for side-along apparition, at which gesture Hannah took the lead and deposited them on her back doorstep (wouldn't do to shock the Muggle neighbours, and there were enough plants and such to make it discreet at night). "Well, here we are," she said. "Can you find your way home from here?"
He nodded. "I know where the Muggle-side jumping point outside the Leaky Cauldron is; I can get back into the Wizarding World from there. Hannah, are you all right?"
She shook her head. "No, I'm not. I... oh, I'm so messed up. Just hold me for a bit, please?"
He held her while she sobbed, which took all of five minutes. When she was done, she wiped her eyes dry and said "Thank you for a lovely evening. I know it was a bit depressing, but... well, thank you for coming along and hearing me out. After all, who else can I talk about this stuff with?"
Neville was on the verge of suggesting that there were a whole lot of Hufflepuffs she could talk to, but he sensed this would be a bad move, that she preferred to confide in him for some reason. Maybe it was because she fancied him and maybe not; maybe it was just because he'd led them all through a very difficult year while Harry, Ron and Hermione had been off following their own destinies. Whatever it was, there was a very large part of him that simply wanted to be there for her. The part that fancied her, the sensual animal part he'd had to control on the morning after the war ended, wasn't getting a look-in right now, and for that he was grateful.
She didn't wait for an answer but stood back and slipped inside, waving sadly at him as she closed the door.
ETA: Have just realised that I have made a continuity error between parts 1 and 2 - has anyone else picked it yet? Will be rectified shortly.
Author:
pathology_doc
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG
Notes/Warnings: Continued from Part 1. Based on JKR snippets and interviews, I'm assuming wizard father, Muggle mother, Hannah an only child, and living in the Muggle world. Follows book and JKR interview canon.
Hannah's father came home from work on the evening of Hannah's date with Neville and found her in her room, dressed to kill and applying makeup.
"Well well well," he said. "Dressed to the nines and not in black, for once. Where might you be going, young lady?"
"Out," she replied confidently.
"I see. And might this going out perchance involve young gentlemen?"
"Perhaps," she replied, more hesitantly this time. She didn't want to take the outcome for granted, after all - Neville might just want to talk, and that would be fine. "And perhaps the odd drink or two as well."
Her father's voice became reproving. "Hannah, you know what I've told you about underage drinking. You can be arrested and charged, and if they take your wand from you..."
Hannah sighed. She'd hoped he would draw the right conclusion and leave her to her own devices, but he did worry for all the right reasons. "Dad, it's okay; it's at the Leaky Cauldron. I'm not underage there."
"Well that's different. I guess it narrows down the identity of your would-be date too. Do I get a name?"
She finished her makeup, turned and smiled impishly at him. "Mmm, maybe not. I might leave you to guess that one."
"Not Potter, is it?"
"Harry? Merlin's beard, no." She dug her wand out of her bedside drawer, dropped it into the wrist sheath she was already wearing. "Anyway, Harry's been Ginny Weasley's personal property since halfway through Sixth Year. But this one is a Gryffindor, so I'm sure you'll approve if I bring him home to meet you."
"You be sure to take appropriate precautions if you bring him home for anything else, young lady. I'm not quite ready to be a grandfather yet."
Hannah laughed. "Don't worry, dad; I've had that covered for a while now." With that, she picked up her favourite shawl, tossed it over her shoulders and slipped her stockinged feet into a very special pair of high heels. These were a recent invention of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, and had been Ginny's idea - if they detected genuine fear on the part of the wearer, they instantly transformed into comfortable high-grip shoes for fight or flight. She didn't at all think she'd need to run from Neville (if anything, she'd be the one chasing him down), but she was still feeling sort of jumpy this soon after the battle... and even if every surviving Death Eater was now safely locked in Azkaban, all their sympathisers were not.
She could have travelled the Floo network right into the Leaky's fireplace, but she'd spent most of the day indoors for one reason or another and she badly wanted a breath of fresh air. Accordingly, she apparated into a quiet alley that was carefully screened from Muggles for just that purpose and enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the Muggle crowds for a short time before crossing over into the Wizarding world.
Her heart was pounding as she made her way through the interface that led into the Leaky. She wondered why this should be - there was no danger, or she would already have faced it - Death Eaters had already shown little regard for where they committed their crimes, and she would merely wind up on the coroner's bench as one more young woman whose death was mysteriously unexplained or put down to some almost impossible-to-diagnose heart defect (especially with her mother having been certified dead for the same reason). Neville? But Neville shouldn't make her nervous - as far as his fellow students were concerned, Slytherins aside, he was probably the most harmless person in all of Hogwarts. Someone like George Weasley would have been a different matter; he was a smooth seducer who'd have her in bed within a few hours if that was what he wanted - but she'd have known to expect that from the start. Neville shouldn't be making her nervous, unless for some bizarre reason she was actually harbouring feelings for the man...
And then she saw him sitting quietly at a corner table and her heart skipped a beat and butterflies danced in her stomach, and there was no getting away from the fact that she did. What they were, she wasn't sure. No doubt she'd have a better idea by the end of the night. She smiled, waved and walked over to greet him. By the time she was at the table, he'd stood and pulled her chair out for her. Three seconds later, he'd taken her shawl and pushed the seat in as she sat down, all the little gentlemanly things that told her the Sorting Hat had been right to put him in Gryffindor.
He sat down opposite her and said "Hi, Hannah" in a voice that - like hers - smacked of post-battle fatigue and too damn many funerals gone to, and she admitted silently to herself that her cheerfulness before her father earlier that evening had been a carefully constructed front.
"Hi," she replied. "How are you going?"
"Well, I've finally finished burying all my dead friends. You?"
Hannah nodded. "Yeah, me too. I saw you and Harry in the background at most of the funerals I went to. Thanks for being unobtrusive about it."
Neville lowered his eyes. "I sort of felt obliged, and Harry agreed - we did lead you lot into it after all."
"You... Neville, you know we all would have stayed for the end, don't you? Even without the DA. The minute Pansy tried to turn Harry in... I think that did it for all of us."
"Sure," Neville replied, not entirely believing it. He knew he'd have those deaths on his conscience for quite a while - none of them had been as experienced as he was, most of them not quite as good (though one could make an exception for Fred Weasley), almost all of them terribly naive about their chances (again with the exception of Fred, although he sometimes wondered about Colin). "Would you like something to drink? I've... ah, I don't really know what you like."
"Butterbeer would be nice to start," Hannah replied. "Something we all used to like once upon a time."
Neville grinned, left briefly and came back with two open bottles. "I suppose we could find something happier to talk about."
"The weather?" Hannah replied. "No, I'd rather get all the miserable talking out of the way first. You know, have a good cry about it and move on, and all that." She was lying through her teeth and she knew it - she still cried herself into hysterics on her father's shoulder about her mother sometimes, and it'd been worse on the anniversary of hearing the news - but Neville didn't call her on it and she suspected he understood. He'd have to.
It turned out he did, because the very next thing he said was, "You're not the only one who's lost a parent, you know."
"I thought your parents were in St Mungo's," Hannah said. "I mean... nobody ever said why, but..."
"I asked Harry to keep that one quiet while he was running the DA and afterwards too," Neville interrupted, "because I didn't want to have to keep explaining over and over again. But I guess you should know. You remember Bellatrix Lestrange, the Death Eater Ron and Ginny's mother killed..."
Hannah grinned. "That was... I hate to call anything about that nightmare magnificent, but that was one of the two truly magnificent things that happened before the end."
Neville raised his eyebrows. "Really? What was the other?" But he didn't need an answer to that question, because Hannah's expression was one of open adoration. "Oh. It... really wasn't that special. I mean, once it was clear his spell wasn't working, it was sort of... you know, automatic."
"For you perhaps," she whispered. "Or for Harry, or one of the teachers or an auror. Not for most of the rest of us. But sorry, I interrupted. Your family?"
Neville explained. Hannah gaped, shut her mouth, dabbed at suddenly moist eyes. "Oh Neville..."
Neville handed her a handkerchief. "It's... something you learn to live with. I hate the idea of wizards killing other wizards, even Death Eaters; but I have to admit, Bellatrix was the one Death Eater apart from Voldemort I was glad to see dead. Sort of wish I could've taken her down myself, but I agree with you; it was pretty awesome to watch."
"I think the awsomest thing of all was that any of us made it through," Hannah replied. "Thank Merlin for the House Elves and Centaurs. And Slughorn coming back - who'd have thought the Head of Slytherin House would do that?"
"Slughorn was always a good guy, Hannah - or at least not a bad one," Neville said, noticing that Hannah's drink was nearly gone. "Another drink for you? Butterbeer again, or something stronger?"
"Mead will do nicely," Hannah said. "One of these days, once Hogsmeade's finished getting rebuilt, we're going to have to try Madame Rosmerta's."
"You said it." Neville went, enquired at the bar and found to his delight that it was in stock here. "Two pints, then, please," he said, dropping a selection of coins on the table.
The Leaky's owner was standing behind the bar, and recognised him. "Veterans drink here free," he replied, pushing the coins back toward Neville. "You especially."
Neville made to offer payment again, but the man was insistent. "There are only three men in the world who ever told You-Know-Who to go fuck himself," he whispered, "and all of them are greater wizards than I'll ever be. Keep your money, Neville Longbottom. As long as I own this place, you've earned that right."
Neville knew it would be insulting to insist further. "Thanks," he replied, slipping the coins back into his pocket and picking up the drinks. He returned to his table, put the drinks down. "Guess whose mead this is?" he asked Hannah as he took his seat again.
"You're joking!" Hannah replied.
"No I'm not," Neville said. "Seems Rosmerta doesn't only sell her mead in Hogsmeade."
Hannah picked up her glass. "Maybe we should think of something to toast, then. It's special stuff after all; it deserves a special purpose."
Neville nodded. "To all those we lost, and to those still with us."
"To the survivors," Hannah echoed in reverse, "and to the glorious dead."
"Glorious?" Neville asked, glass paused at his lips.
"It's a Muggle thing from my mother's side," Hannah told him. "Why don't we go for a walk afterwards and I'll show you."
Neville nodded, accepting her explanation if not her invitation, and once more raised his glass. "The glorious dead," they whispered together, and then drank.
"That was lovely," Hannah said when she'd finally put down her glass. "A decent drop, raised in a good cause. Shall we take that walk?"
"Sure," Neville replied. He could see the evening turning into a maudlin session of drinking and remembrance, which was bound to end with her in tears and him not knowing how to comfort her - or worse, trying to comfort her in an inappropriate way. They reversed the gentlemanly and ladylike ritual of sitting down and he offered her his arm as they left.
"Does this mean we're going out?" Hannah asked as she took it.
"No, but... well, I heard it's what Muggle gentlemen do."
Hannah laughed. "A hundred years ago, maybe. But it's alright, Neville; if you want to play the perfect Muggle gentleman I don't mind a bit. You're one of the truest gentlemen at Hogwarts after all."
Neville didn't know what to say to that, and settled for a shy smile. He disengaged his wand arm long enough to tap the magical wall and let them out into the Muggle world, then they walked out arm-in-arm together.
"Where are we going?" Neville asked. He had explored Wizarding London more than once, but never been on the Muggle side more than very briefly.
"The place Muggles call Whitehall," Hannah replied, using her grip on his arm to gently guide him through human traffic and stop him for the vehicular sort when appropriate.
"Oh that," Neville said. "I've heard Hermione mention it. Isn't that where the Muggle government lives?"
"Works, not lives," Hannah clarified. "Pretty close, though." They could have apparated, but as before, Hannah wanted and needed the fresh air. She was also enjoying Neville's company and wanted to drag it out as much as she could.
"Here we are," she said when they eventually came to the spot. "See the dates in Roman Numerals?"
"The MCM business?" Neville asked.
"Yeah, that. Nineteen fourteen to nineteen nineteen, nineteen thirty nine to nineteen forty five. That second year should be eighteen because that's when the fighting stopped, but they didn't actually sign the treaty until the year after. One of my Great Grandads and a whole bunch of his brothers on Mum's side went to the first war and didn't come back. Muggle wars aren't like wizarding wars, of course - they always kill each other, mostly because they don't have stunning spells and there's always plenty of Muggles left over."
"Is that how you know this place?" Neville asked.
"Yes and no. Mum's dad went to the second war - the second Muggle World War - and made it through, so he comes here every year and remembers his friends who didn't. I used to come with him until I started going to Hogwarts, and then we... well, we had to let him in on the secret or it would've broken his heart; he'd have thought I didn't care any more."
"Are you going to tell him about the Wizarding war?" Neville asked.
"There's only so much you can tell a Muggle," Hannah said. "Dad always warns me about that. On the other hand, he knows Grandpa knows about me. Besides, Grandpa knows how to keep a secret and he won't need to keep it for very long; he's very old for a Muggle. And he might even be impressed that I finally understand." Unconsciously, she slid her hand down his arm, slipped her fingers into his. His hand was warm and comforting, and she liked that he sensed her need to have hers held.
"And you're not at Hogwarts any more, either," Neville said. "So you can keep coming back here now."
"That will be good, yes," Hannah said. "That would be... I don't suppose nice, it's a very sad place to come and see, but it will really mean something when I turn up with Grandpa this time around. More than it's ever done. He'll be thinking of all his lost friends from the war, and... and I'll be thinking of mine." She sniffed, tried to blink back tears. "Would you take me home now, please?"
He knew she meant accompany me home, since he had absolutely no idea where she lived. He leaned in close. "Sure. Do you want to go somewhere quiet and apparate away?"
She nodded, and they drifted off into Muggle-free shadows before vanishing. Neville held onto her arm in preparation for side-along apparition, at which gesture Hannah took the lead and deposited them on her back doorstep (wouldn't do to shock the Muggle neighbours, and there were enough plants and such to make it discreet at night). "Well, here we are," she said. "Can you find your way home from here?"
He nodded. "I know where the Muggle-side jumping point outside the Leaky Cauldron is; I can get back into the Wizarding World from there. Hannah, are you all right?"
She shook her head. "No, I'm not. I... oh, I'm so messed up. Just hold me for a bit, please?"
He held her while she sobbed, which took all of five minutes. When she was done, she wiped her eyes dry and said "Thank you for a lovely evening. I know it was a bit depressing, but... well, thank you for coming along and hearing me out. After all, who else can I talk about this stuff with?"
Neville was on the verge of suggesting that there were a whole lot of Hufflepuffs she could talk to, but he sensed this would be a bad move, that she preferred to confide in him for some reason. Maybe it was because she fancied him and maybe not; maybe it was just because he'd led them all through a very difficult year while Harry, Ron and Hermione had been off following their own destinies. Whatever it was, there was a very large part of him that simply wanted to be there for her. The part that fancied her, the sensual animal part he'd had to control on the morning after the war ended, wasn't getting a look-in right now, and for that he was grateful.
She didn't wait for an answer but stood back and slipped inside, waving sadly at him as she closed the door.
ETA: Have just realised that I have made a continuity error between parts 1 and 2 - has anyone else picked it yet? Will be rectified shortly.