HP fic: The Wooing of Hannah and Neville. (WIP) part 3
Title: The Wooing of Hannah and Neville.
Author:
pathology_doc
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: Better make this one an M15+. Quite a bit raunchier than the books.
Notes/Warnings: Continued from Part 2. Some minor non-canonical events that do not specifically contradict canon.
Neville was tired and more than a little bit maudlin himself when he got home, and then there was the pint of mead on top of that. So it was no surprise that his first concern when he got home was to go straight to bed and sleep.
The next morning was a different story. His dreams had granted him the lurid fantasies he'd been able to keep in check the previous evening, and much as Harry had found himself dreaming about Ginny, most of Neville's dreams featured him and Hannah engaging in all sorts of activities which he wouldn't care to have either his grandmother or Hannah's father walk in on. And that, on awaking, got him to thinking that he really had shown her a terrible time last night. Some first date he told himself, mulling over the war and taking her home in tears. Silly boy, Neviile; you'll be lucky if any Hufflepuff ever wants to talk to you again.
Having thoroughly depressed himself with his own estimation of his uselessness, he showered and dressed, mumbled his way through breakfast with his grandmother, and then went back to his room to contemplate a letter of apology to Hannah. He'd barely scribbled a shaky "Dear Hannah; sorry I left you feeling miserable last night, regards Neville" when he was distracted from his hunt for an envelope by a tapping on his window. Owl post.
He disengaged the envelope from the rather nondescript bird, which sat on the windowsill, evidently awaiting his reply. The outside was simply labelled with his name and address, no return, but it wasn't writing he recognised. He wondered what it could be about and who from. Hannah? Flushed with renewed guilt, he slit it open; half of him wishing it was her just dropping him and getting it over and done with.
Dear Neville, the letter began.
Thank you for a lovely evening. I hope you'll excuse all the tears but everyone knows I've been such a bloody crybaby ever since my OWLs. Took Madam Pomfrey's best calming draught, and I still managed to screw up everyone's Transfig. prac with those bloody birds.
Neville smiled at the sudden memory of innumerable flamingoes. What a delightful way to be sure the letter was from Hannah. He went on reading.
I had a good chat to Dad this morning - and a damn good cry, of course - and we're going off to Grandpa this afternoon to tell him about everything. Poor man's very unwell and this Remembrance Day is probably going to be his last, but we've known that was coming for a while. Would it be alright if we met up again, so I could let you know how it went? You could come round here if you like. Let me know by return post with this owl.
Hugs, Hannah.
Neville smiled nervously. Poor Hannah - reading between the lines, she must feel even more useless than he once used to. He remembered those days well; they hadn't been fun. Had she noticed that somehow? Was she talking to him because she saw in him somebody a lot like herself? In that case, maybe he owed it to her to be her friend, and not just her former commanding officer getting together to reminisce. That would make the feelings which had driven last night's dreams a lot easier to have. Because he liked her, damn it, and it was about time he followed Harry and Ron's lead and liked a girl as more than just a friend. Long past time, actually.
He'd never performed the spell before, but it took little effort to flick his wand in the direction of his letter and say "Incendio." Indeed, the intent was enough; the letter was a pile of ashes almost before he'd even finished saying the word. Then he turned back to Hannah's letter and scrawled Sure, let me know a good time to call around before stuffing it back into its envelope and giving it back to the owl. Two small treats from the can on his desk later, the bird hooted its thanks and flew off.
Well, he thought. This won't be so bad after all. He could have said a lot more, but he preferred to speak it rather than write it. In any case, there were other things to do with his time. He pulled over an advanced herbology text - the one he would have been studying from if he hadn't spent the last twelve months being a hero - and tried to make himself pay attention, but all he could do was think Herbology, Pomona Sprout, Hufflepuff House, Hannah and finally he gave up and doodled pictures of Venomous Tentacula instead.
How had she gotten into his head so easily?
************************
He found himself at Hannah's place on the evening of the next day, so nervous he almost dropped the large bottle of mead he'd brought her. Her father opened the door, politely introduced himself and as politely showed him up to Hannah's room, making small-talk all the way up before retiring and leaving them to themselves.
"For you," Neville told her, holding out the bottle and trying not to drop it or show how shaky his hands were.
"Thanks," she said, smiling. She was dressed in Muggle clothes, barefoot with a smart top and a skirt that came down to just below her knees. A pair of Muggle running shoes with yellow and black striped socks stuffed into them sat just next to her desk. She waved him into the accompanying chair and sat herself on the bed. "Hope your trip here was pleasant."
It was just small-talk because they both knew he'd apparated, but it helped him relax. "Okay, I guess. How did telling your grandfather go?"
"Oh he was horrified; I knew he would be. Imagine a girl my age being involved in something so awful, etcetera. But anyway, I told him about what had gone on, and about Harry and you..."
Neville gaped. "You told him about me? What did you say?"
"Oh you know, how you'd stood up to the Carrows and pulled us together and encouraged us and got us all into the Room of Requirement - I didn't call it that, just 'a safe place' - and so on. You know, all the cool stuff you did last year." When she saw him frown, she added "I know it was awful and scary at the time, Nev, but someone had to do it with Harry away and Dumbledore dead. Grandpa was pretty impressed."
Neville said nothing at first. He knew he was blushing, but couldn't stop himself. Finally he said, "What did you tell him about you? Because you were pretty good yourself, you know; running back into the battle right under Voldemort's nose..."
"Grandpa told me off for taking stupid chances and he was right," Hannah said ruefully, toying with the hem of her skirt. "I still don't understand why I didn't get myself killed. I sort of felt a shield charm go on around me just before he cast at me, but shield charms don't stop the Killing Curse and I know that's what the green flash was."
"Remember what Harry said that night, that the wand Voldemort was using really belonged to him? I'm betting it wouldn't work right against a shield charm cast by its owner. Harry must have cast the shield charm around you, and that's why Voldemort's spell failed. It's the lucky ones like you and me and your grandfather who are still around to tell about it - or be told off." There was of course the matter of Harry's sacrifice, but Harry could be excused for his belt-and-braces approach.
Hannah laughed. "Grandpa also says if you'd like to come along this November eleventh, you'd be welcome."
"I think I'd like that. Maybe you could tell me a little bit more about what goes on then, so I don't make a complete idiot of myself."
"Of course I will. But for now, let's enjoy this bottle you brought. Want some?"
"Oh no, Hannah; I got that for you!"
"And I'm sharing it," she replied firmly. "Wait here while I get a couple of glasses."
He was about to suggest she use a summoning spell, but refrained. As a half-Muggle, maybe she felt the need to do some things the hard way. She returned less than a minute later, putting both glasses on the desk and filling them to the brim before sitting back down on the bed. "So," she said, "enough about the war - what about the peace? Kick off your shoes, put your feet up and tell me what you're going to do with yourself."
Neville was pleased to get off that topic. "I already told you - I want to broaden my herbology knowledge and maybe even end up in teaching. Maybe spend three or four years travelling here and there and looking up the best herbologists I can find. Once I've done that and got my knowledge into some sort of order, who knows? Professor Sprout might even have room for me as an assistant at Hogwarts What about you?"
"I don't know. I'm not sure I can make myself go back, but I need something to fill up my empty days. I heard they're looking for someone to work behind the bar at the Leaky Cauldron some evenings, so I might give that a shot." She sipped her mead. "That means we might have to do our catching up in Hogsmeade; I'd rather not mix business and pleasure, if that's alright."
Neville nodded. "I can understand that. What about the long long term?"
"No idea," Hannah replied. "This job at the Leaky is to give me some time to think about that. Anyway, here's to herbology." She raised her glass.
"And to lovely barmaids," Neville replied, tired of not acknowledging her obvious attractiveness.
And now it was Hannah's turn to blush. "Um... thanks, I guess." She drank her mead, regarding him carefully over the rim of the glass until she had to tip it far enough up that she lost sight of him. When she lowered her glass again, he'd emptied his also.
"That was tasty, thank you," she said. "Let's go for a walk before we get too much into the rest of that." She reached down to grab her socks and shoes, and he briefly and unwittingly got a look down the front of her shirt. By the time she'd tied her laces and straightened up again, he'd only just wiped the embarrassment off his face and was too-casually examining the posters on her walls as he shoved his own feet back into his shoes.
"Checking out my room?" she asked, grinning.
Neville nodded, not wanting to give away what he'd inadvertently been checking out just a minute ago. She had a large team poster of the Holyhead Harpies from a couple of years back, signed by the players, which took up most of one wall. That was no surprise to Neville - most Hogwarts girls who followed professional Quidditch were Harpies fans to some degree. A second wall was occupied by a full-size likeness of Celestina Warbreck, who from Neville's perspective was thankfully silent. The third bore Hannah's complete chocolate frog card collection behind glass, and the fourth was taken up by a still picture (therefore almost certainly of Muggle origin) of a woman he didn't recognise.
He pointed to the fourth poster. "Who's Celine Dion?" he asked.
"She's... try to imagine a Muggle version of Celestina and you come close. I used to follow the Weird Sisters, but I needed something a little more gentle and calming after Mum died. And Mum liked her, so that's... but anyway, let's go for that walk."
Neville, who loathed Celestina Warbreck's music with a passion and had grown up all his life in the Wizarding World, couldn't even come close to imagining a Muggle version, but kept this opinion to himself and followed close behind her.
Hannah informed her father that she and Neville were going out and led him into the street. "Come on, there's a park down here that leads into a small wood. So, um... what posters do you have on your walls? Mandrakes? Venomous Tentacula?" She giggled mischievously.
Neville smiled. She was pretty close to the truth - if the posters existed, he'd probably have bought them already. "If I were going to have a poster of a Mandrake I'd have to find a way to shut it up," he said. "Speaking of which, how do you..."
"I cast Silencio at it every morning," she replied. "I've managed to get the spell just right so it lasts twenty-four hours and doubles as an alarm clock."
"Clever," Neville said. "Okay, someday I'll have to get my picture taken uprooting a Mandrake and you can show me what to do with the spell."
"Will do," Hannah replied, grinning as she walked into the park, where Muggle children were being pushed on swings. Hannah looked wistfully at them, remembering her mother not being able to take her out with a practice broom and settling for this instead. She started down the path that led into the wood and then realised all of a sudden that Neville had stopped some distance behind.
"What's the matter?" she asked, observing him staring at a spot on the ground.
"Muggle plants," he said, fascinated. "I could spend all day here."
She smiled at him. "Come on, Neville; you're like a kid in Bertie Botts' factory. They're plants; they're not going anywhere." And then, because they both very well knew that didn't universally apply, she added "Well, those plants aren't, anyway."
"I wonder if you could train them to," he replied as he caught up to her. "Or does that seem a bit like crossing a line that shouldn't be crossed?"
"Are you kidding?" Hannah replied. "There are quite enough unpleasant things already that tried to put their tendrils all over me every time I walked into that greenhouse without adding more!" Which did a lot to explain Zacharias Smith's black eye in Sixth Year, she recalled, but Zacharias wasn't ever going to admit who'd given him that injury and she saw no need to brag about it.
"Oh come on," Neville teased. "Even the Tentacula's not so bad when you get to know it."
Hannah laughed. "You and your creepy vegetables, Neville. Wouldn't you rather cuddle up to something warmer and more human?" Like me, for example, she added silently. She was sure she loved him in a late-teenage sort of way, and from the way his authoritative, can-do attitude of the last days of the war was constantly failing him whenever he was around her, she got the idea he was keen on her too in his own endearing way. She remembered the insecure boy he'd been when he first came to Hogwarts and kicked herself for not having chased after him then.
For the first time, it occurred to Neville that she was seriously egging him on to try something. "Sort of... well, yeah, I would; but I'd need to be sure she wanted to cuddle up to me too." Various impulses were fighting for top billing in his mind, and he wasn't quite sure whether he preferred to offer her a comforting cuddle or get a better and more deliberate view of what he'd accidentally glimpsed down her shirt-front. From a selfish viewpoint he sort of favoured the latter, but this wasn't the place to do it and he still wasn't sure it was the time either.
No fear of that, Hannah thought. "Well, that's a relief! You know, Neville, I have..."
"Someone you want me to meet?" Neville interjected.
"You could say that," Hannah said. "Someone I know rather well, in fact."
Neville was by no means the most observant or brilliant student in his year - that honour clearly belonged to Hermione - but there was something about the way Hannah drawled out the word 'rather' that got his attention at once. Hope rose in him, even as he tried not to think about the other thing that was rising. "Oh, really? And would this person happen to be a blonde Hufflepuff Prefect with a thing for chocolate frog cards and excruciatingly warbly romantic balladeers?"
"She... umm... might be, yeah." Hannah giggled at Neville's description of Celestina Warbreck. She didn't like having her muscial tastes put down, but people either loved Celestina or loathed her... and Hannah was open-minded enough not to think harshly of Neville for being in the latter group.
"Well that sounds nice. And... um... does this particular Hufflepuff you know well also think kindly of shy Gryffindors with a thing for dangerous plants?"
"She... you know, I think she does. Knowing her well, and all, I think I could speak for her on tha... mmmph!!"
Her sentence trailed off into a muffled shriek as Neville pulled her to a stop, spun her around on the spot and kissed her. It took her about half a second to recover from the surprise, and then she leaned into the kiss and felt his arms slide around her, pulling her gently into an embrace.
"Now that," she finally whispered when they broke contact, "is much nicer than getting pulled in by a Tentacula." Her voice was wavering, her knees were shaking and butterflies were flittering in her stomach and somewhere else. "Do me a favour, will you, Neville?"
"What's that?" he asked, still somewhat astonished at his own audacity and relieved at her positive reaction to it.
"Reel me in and take me home," she said, grinning. She still wasn't quite sure whether she loved him or merely lusted after him, but lust with a side order of mutual admiration would do her quite well for now and they could sort out the specifics later.
Grinning, Neville pulled her close, closed his eyes and imagined them at their destination, and zap! they were out of the woods and in Hannah's bedroom again. Not even bothering to let go of him first, she reached out and pushed the door closed.
"Now what?" he half-wondered aloud.
She whipped out her wand. "Colloportus," she said by way of reply before setting it aside.
"Hannah," he asked, "Are you sure this is a good idea?" He was seriously worried he was overstepping all bounds of propriety and at the same time desperately hoping she wanted him to.
"Absolutely," she said, snuggling in closer against him.
Well, Neville thought, he hadn't quite thought to get this far this soon, but it wasn't at all as if she minded... and he couldn't go on playing the part of the restrained former commanding officer forever. Trusting in her capability as a veteran of the Second Wizarding War to let him know when he'd gone far enough, he slid one hand experimentally down to the small of her back, pressed his lips against hers and heard her almost purr with delight.
"Now do me one more favour," she whispered in between kisses.
"What's that?" he asked.
"Forget all your gentlemanly Gryffindor propriety and just enjoy yourself."
Neville, who was chivalry and propriety personified, thought that had to be one of the most difficult things he'd ever been asked to do. On the other hand, it also had the potential to be one of the most pleasant. This was going to be a very enjoyable afternoon, and he wasn't looking forward to it ending.
Author:
pathology_doc
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: Better make this one an M15+. Quite a bit raunchier than the books.
Notes/Warnings: Continued from Part 2. Some minor non-canonical events that do not specifically contradict canon.
Neville was tired and more than a little bit maudlin himself when he got home, and then there was the pint of mead on top of that. So it was no surprise that his first concern when he got home was to go straight to bed and sleep.
The next morning was a different story. His dreams had granted him the lurid fantasies he'd been able to keep in check the previous evening, and much as Harry had found himself dreaming about Ginny, most of Neville's dreams featured him and Hannah engaging in all sorts of activities which he wouldn't care to have either his grandmother or Hannah's father walk in on. And that, on awaking, got him to thinking that he really had shown her a terrible time last night. Some first date he told himself, mulling over the war and taking her home in tears. Silly boy, Neviile; you'll be lucky if any Hufflepuff ever wants to talk to you again.
Having thoroughly depressed himself with his own estimation of his uselessness, he showered and dressed, mumbled his way through breakfast with his grandmother, and then went back to his room to contemplate a letter of apology to Hannah. He'd barely scribbled a shaky "Dear Hannah; sorry I left you feeling miserable last night, regards Neville" when he was distracted from his hunt for an envelope by a tapping on his window. Owl post.
He disengaged the envelope from the rather nondescript bird, which sat on the windowsill, evidently awaiting his reply. The outside was simply labelled with his name and address, no return, but it wasn't writing he recognised. He wondered what it could be about and who from. Hannah? Flushed with renewed guilt, he slit it open; half of him wishing it was her just dropping him and getting it over and done with.
Dear Neville, the letter began.
Thank you for a lovely evening. I hope you'll excuse all the tears but everyone knows I've been such a bloody crybaby ever since my OWLs. Took Madam Pomfrey's best calming draught, and I still managed to screw up everyone's Transfig. prac with those bloody birds.
Neville smiled at the sudden memory of innumerable flamingoes. What a delightful way to be sure the letter was from Hannah. He went on reading.
I had a good chat to Dad this morning - and a damn good cry, of course - and we're going off to Grandpa this afternoon to tell him about everything. Poor man's very unwell and this Remembrance Day is probably going to be his last, but we've known that was coming for a while. Would it be alright if we met up again, so I could let you know how it went? You could come round here if you like. Let me know by return post with this owl.
Hugs, Hannah.
Neville smiled nervously. Poor Hannah - reading between the lines, she must feel even more useless than he once used to. He remembered those days well; they hadn't been fun. Had she noticed that somehow? Was she talking to him because she saw in him somebody a lot like herself? In that case, maybe he owed it to her to be her friend, and not just her former commanding officer getting together to reminisce. That would make the feelings which had driven last night's dreams a lot easier to have. Because he liked her, damn it, and it was about time he followed Harry and Ron's lead and liked a girl as more than just a friend. Long past time, actually.
He'd never performed the spell before, but it took little effort to flick his wand in the direction of his letter and say "Incendio." Indeed, the intent was enough; the letter was a pile of ashes almost before he'd even finished saying the word. Then he turned back to Hannah's letter and scrawled Sure, let me know a good time to call around before stuffing it back into its envelope and giving it back to the owl. Two small treats from the can on his desk later, the bird hooted its thanks and flew off.
Well, he thought. This won't be so bad after all. He could have said a lot more, but he preferred to speak it rather than write it. In any case, there were other things to do with his time. He pulled over an advanced herbology text - the one he would have been studying from if he hadn't spent the last twelve months being a hero - and tried to make himself pay attention, but all he could do was think Herbology, Pomona Sprout, Hufflepuff House, Hannah and finally he gave up and doodled pictures of Venomous Tentacula instead.
How had she gotten into his head so easily?
************************
He found himself at Hannah's place on the evening of the next day, so nervous he almost dropped the large bottle of mead he'd brought her. Her father opened the door, politely introduced himself and as politely showed him up to Hannah's room, making small-talk all the way up before retiring and leaving them to themselves.
"For you," Neville told her, holding out the bottle and trying not to drop it or show how shaky his hands were.
"Thanks," she said, smiling. She was dressed in Muggle clothes, barefoot with a smart top and a skirt that came down to just below her knees. A pair of Muggle running shoes with yellow and black striped socks stuffed into them sat just next to her desk. She waved him into the accompanying chair and sat herself on the bed. "Hope your trip here was pleasant."
It was just small-talk because they both knew he'd apparated, but it helped him relax. "Okay, I guess. How did telling your grandfather go?"
"Oh he was horrified; I knew he would be. Imagine a girl my age being involved in something so awful, etcetera. But anyway, I told him about what had gone on, and about Harry and you..."
Neville gaped. "You told him about me? What did you say?"
"Oh you know, how you'd stood up to the Carrows and pulled us together and encouraged us and got us all into the Room of Requirement - I didn't call it that, just 'a safe place' - and so on. You know, all the cool stuff you did last year." When she saw him frown, she added "I know it was awful and scary at the time, Nev, but someone had to do it with Harry away and Dumbledore dead. Grandpa was pretty impressed."
Neville said nothing at first. He knew he was blushing, but couldn't stop himself. Finally he said, "What did you tell him about you? Because you were pretty good yourself, you know; running back into the battle right under Voldemort's nose..."
"Grandpa told me off for taking stupid chances and he was right," Hannah said ruefully, toying with the hem of her skirt. "I still don't understand why I didn't get myself killed. I sort of felt a shield charm go on around me just before he cast at me, but shield charms don't stop the Killing Curse and I know that's what the green flash was."
"Remember what Harry said that night, that the wand Voldemort was using really belonged to him? I'm betting it wouldn't work right against a shield charm cast by its owner. Harry must have cast the shield charm around you, and that's why Voldemort's spell failed. It's the lucky ones like you and me and your grandfather who are still around to tell about it - or be told off." There was of course the matter of Harry's sacrifice, but Harry could be excused for his belt-and-braces approach.
Hannah laughed. "Grandpa also says if you'd like to come along this November eleventh, you'd be welcome."
"I think I'd like that. Maybe you could tell me a little bit more about what goes on then, so I don't make a complete idiot of myself."
"Of course I will. But for now, let's enjoy this bottle you brought. Want some?"
"Oh no, Hannah; I got that for you!"
"And I'm sharing it," she replied firmly. "Wait here while I get a couple of glasses."
He was about to suggest she use a summoning spell, but refrained. As a half-Muggle, maybe she felt the need to do some things the hard way. She returned less than a minute later, putting both glasses on the desk and filling them to the brim before sitting back down on the bed. "So," she said, "enough about the war - what about the peace? Kick off your shoes, put your feet up and tell me what you're going to do with yourself."
Neville was pleased to get off that topic. "I already told you - I want to broaden my herbology knowledge and maybe even end up in teaching. Maybe spend three or four years travelling here and there and looking up the best herbologists I can find. Once I've done that and got my knowledge into some sort of order, who knows? Professor Sprout might even have room for me as an assistant at Hogwarts What about you?"
"I don't know. I'm not sure I can make myself go back, but I need something to fill up my empty days. I heard they're looking for someone to work behind the bar at the Leaky Cauldron some evenings, so I might give that a shot." She sipped her mead. "That means we might have to do our catching up in Hogsmeade; I'd rather not mix business and pleasure, if that's alright."
Neville nodded. "I can understand that. What about the long long term?"
"No idea," Hannah replied. "This job at the Leaky is to give me some time to think about that. Anyway, here's to herbology." She raised her glass.
"And to lovely barmaids," Neville replied, tired of not acknowledging her obvious attractiveness.
And now it was Hannah's turn to blush. "Um... thanks, I guess." She drank her mead, regarding him carefully over the rim of the glass until she had to tip it far enough up that she lost sight of him. When she lowered her glass again, he'd emptied his also.
"That was tasty, thank you," she said. "Let's go for a walk before we get too much into the rest of that." She reached down to grab her socks and shoes, and he briefly and unwittingly got a look down the front of her shirt. By the time she'd tied her laces and straightened up again, he'd only just wiped the embarrassment off his face and was too-casually examining the posters on her walls as he shoved his own feet back into his shoes.
"Checking out my room?" she asked, grinning.
Neville nodded, not wanting to give away what he'd inadvertently been checking out just a minute ago. She had a large team poster of the Holyhead Harpies from a couple of years back, signed by the players, which took up most of one wall. That was no surprise to Neville - most Hogwarts girls who followed professional Quidditch were Harpies fans to some degree. A second wall was occupied by a full-size likeness of Celestina Warbreck, who from Neville's perspective was thankfully silent. The third bore Hannah's complete chocolate frog card collection behind glass, and the fourth was taken up by a still picture (therefore almost certainly of Muggle origin) of a woman he didn't recognise.
He pointed to the fourth poster. "Who's Celine Dion?" he asked.
"She's... try to imagine a Muggle version of Celestina and you come close. I used to follow the Weird Sisters, but I needed something a little more gentle and calming after Mum died. And Mum liked her, so that's... but anyway, let's go for that walk."
Neville, who loathed Celestina Warbreck's music with a passion and had grown up all his life in the Wizarding World, couldn't even come close to imagining a Muggle version, but kept this opinion to himself and followed close behind her.
Hannah informed her father that she and Neville were going out and led him into the street. "Come on, there's a park down here that leads into a small wood. So, um... what posters do you have on your walls? Mandrakes? Venomous Tentacula?" She giggled mischievously.
Neville smiled. She was pretty close to the truth - if the posters existed, he'd probably have bought them already. "If I were going to have a poster of a Mandrake I'd have to find a way to shut it up," he said. "Speaking of which, how do you..."
"I cast Silencio at it every morning," she replied. "I've managed to get the spell just right so it lasts twenty-four hours and doubles as an alarm clock."
"Clever," Neville said. "Okay, someday I'll have to get my picture taken uprooting a Mandrake and you can show me what to do with the spell."
"Will do," Hannah replied, grinning as she walked into the park, where Muggle children were being pushed on swings. Hannah looked wistfully at them, remembering her mother not being able to take her out with a practice broom and settling for this instead. She started down the path that led into the wood and then realised all of a sudden that Neville had stopped some distance behind.
"What's the matter?" she asked, observing him staring at a spot on the ground.
"Muggle plants," he said, fascinated. "I could spend all day here."
She smiled at him. "Come on, Neville; you're like a kid in Bertie Botts' factory. They're plants; they're not going anywhere." And then, because they both very well knew that didn't universally apply, she added "Well, those plants aren't, anyway."
"I wonder if you could train them to," he replied as he caught up to her. "Or does that seem a bit like crossing a line that shouldn't be crossed?"
"Are you kidding?" Hannah replied. "There are quite enough unpleasant things already that tried to put their tendrils all over me every time I walked into that greenhouse without adding more!" Which did a lot to explain Zacharias Smith's black eye in Sixth Year, she recalled, but Zacharias wasn't ever going to admit who'd given him that injury and she saw no need to brag about it.
"Oh come on," Neville teased. "Even the Tentacula's not so bad when you get to know it."
Hannah laughed. "You and your creepy vegetables, Neville. Wouldn't you rather cuddle up to something warmer and more human?" Like me, for example, she added silently. She was sure she loved him in a late-teenage sort of way, and from the way his authoritative, can-do attitude of the last days of the war was constantly failing him whenever he was around her, she got the idea he was keen on her too in his own endearing way. She remembered the insecure boy he'd been when he first came to Hogwarts and kicked herself for not having chased after him then.
For the first time, it occurred to Neville that she was seriously egging him on to try something. "Sort of... well, yeah, I would; but I'd need to be sure she wanted to cuddle up to me too." Various impulses were fighting for top billing in his mind, and he wasn't quite sure whether he preferred to offer her a comforting cuddle or get a better and more deliberate view of what he'd accidentally glimpsed down her shirt-front. From a selfish viewpoint he sort of favoured the latter, but this wasn't the place to do it and he still wasn't sure it was the time either.
No fear of that, Hannah thought. "Well, that's a relief! You know, Neville, I have..."
"Someone you want me to meet?" Neville interjected.
"You could say that," Hannah said. "Someone I know rather well, in fact."
Neville was by no means the most observant or brilliant student in his year - that honour clearly belonged to Hermione - but there was something about the way Hannah drawled out the word 'rather' that got his attention at once. Hope rose in him, even as he tried not to think about the other thing that was rising. "Oh, really? And would this person happen to be a blonde Hufflepuff Prefect with a thing for chocolate frog cards and excruciatingly warbly romantic balladeers?"
"She... umm... might be, yeah." Hannah giggled at Neville's description of Celestina Warbreck. She didn't like having her muscial tastes put down, but people either loved Celestina or loathed her... and Hannah was open-minded enough not to think harshly of Neville for being in the latter group.
"Well that sounds nice. And... um... does this particular Hufflepuff you know well also think kindly of shy Gryffindors with a thing for dangerous plants?"
"She... you know, I think she does. Knowing her well, and all, I think I could speak for her on tha... mmmph!!"
Her sentence trailed off into a muffled shriek as Neville pulled her to a stop, spun her around on the spot and kissed her. It took her about half a second to recover from the surprise, and then she leaned into the kiss and felt his arms slide around her, pulling her gently into an embrace.
"Now that," she finally whispered when they broke contact, "is much nicer than getting pulled in by a Tentacula." Her voice was wavering, her knees were shaking and butterflies were flittering in her stomach and somewhere else. "Do me a favour, will you, Neville?"
"What's that?" he asked, still somewhat astonished at his own audacity and relieved at her positive reaction to it.
"Reel me in and take me home," she said, grinning. She still wasn't quite sure whether she loved him or merely lusted after him, but lust with a side order of mutual admiration would do her quite well for now and they could sort out the specifics later.
Grinning, Neville pulled her close, closed his eyes and imagined them at their destination, and zap! they were out of the woods and in Hannah's bedroom again. Not even bothering to let go of him first, she reached out and pushed the door closed.
"Now what?" he half-wondered aloud.
She whipped out her wand. "Colloportus," she said by way of reply before setting it aside.
"Hannah," he asked, "Are you sure this is a good idea?" He was seriously worried he was overstepping all bounds of propriety and at the same time desperately hoping she wanted him to.
"Absolutely," she said, snuggling in closer against him.
Well, Neville thought, he hadn't quite thought to get this far this soon, but it wasn't at all as if she minded... and he couldn't go on playing the part of the restrained former commanding officer forever. Trusting in her capability as a veteran of the Second Wizarding War to let him know when he'd gone far enough, he slid one hand experimentally down to the small of her back, pressed his lips against hers and heard her almost purr with delight.
"Now do me one more favour," she whispered in between kisses.
"What's that?" he asked.
"Forget all your gentlemanly Gryffindor propriety and just enjoy yourself."
Neville, who was chivalry and propriety personified, thought that had to be one of the most difficult things he'd ever been asked to do. On the other hand, it also had the potential to be one of the most pleasant. This was going to be a very enjoyable afternoon, and he wasn't looking forward to it ending.