A few minutes later, Hermione came into the room. She looked a little out of breath, with faint beads of sweat covering her forehead.
Giving her an odd look, Extimum went over, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to help her wipe away the sweat.
A faint blush colored her cheeks at the intimacy of the gesture, but she didn't push him away.
Extimum: "I did tell you I can control the Time-Turner with a fair degree of precision. There was no need to come running all the way here in such a hurry."
Hermione: "*Haa* I know, I know, it's just instinct, and I didn't want to leave you waiting either. I got caught up arguing with the Muggle Studies professor and lost track of time."
Extimum: "I'd say that's exactly the sort of thing I could picture from you, but actually, I saw it happen myself, so it's fine, I already knew you'd be running a bit late."
Hermione: "Oh, right... It's just, it's a little confusing. I mean, I saw you in class, and at the same time I knew that the real you, no, the you from my own time, was somewhere else, so..."
Extimum: "I understand, don't worry about it. Do you want to rest for a while, or shall we head straight to Divination?"
Hermione: "Let's go-"
Extimum: "Let's rest."
Hermione: "Fine..."
With a flick of his wand, the narrow broom cupboard expanded slightly, and two soft, comfortable seats appeared facing one another.
Hermione almost collapsed onto the cushion as soon as she saw it, burying her face in the softness of the beanbag.
"It's more exhausting than I expected, especially after Arithmancy."
Extimum: "Though you seemed to be quite good at it."
Hermione: "That's because I'd already seen similar things at school, but it was still mentally exhausting."
Extimum: "That's true. And what do you think of the experiment?"
Hermione: "I suppose it's rather confusing when you think about it, but otherwise it's fairly ordinary, perhaps disappointing? Or frightening? If you think about how this distorts your perception of time and reality, when you don't know whether you're looking at a before or an after… because we're the present, aren't we?"
Extimum: "There's no doubt about that. It's better not to follow that line of thought too far. Just look at it as though you were throwing a rope a very long way. You can see the beginning, the end, and the part you're holding, but no matter which end you look at, all that matters is where you are. At some point, you'll reel the cord back in, and everything will return to your hands."
Hermione lifted her face from the large cushion and looked into his eyes.
"That's a very good way of looking at it."
Extimum: "Of course. I've thought about it before. Shall we go to Divination?"
Hermione: "Let's go," she said languidly, still not rested enough, but determined to finally finish the morning's lessons.
Extimum smiled faintly and settled himself on her back, leaving her trapped against the cushion as he looped the chain around her neck and spun the Time-Turner before Hermione had time to protest.
"Or maybe we ought to give ourselves a bit more time to rest?". He murmured, blowing softly behind her ear as their surroundings blurred.
Hermione: "Eek! N-no, we should-"
Extimum: "Ha ha, all right, I'm only teasing you, let's go".
Freeing her from the chain, he stood and straightened his robes, watching with amusement as a flustered, blushing Hermione did the same.
Hermione: "Hmph, it isn't funny, let's go."
...
The Divination classroom was rather peculiar, well, it wasn't as though most classrooms weren't, but even among those, this one stood out.
Walking in, one was met with a dim, close, stifling room. All the curtains were drawn and the lamps draped in cloth, casting everything in a crimson glow. The air hung thick with what seemed like an almost unbearable perfume, especially to his senses, seeping from a copper pot simmering over the fire.
As if the air and the light weren't enough on their own, the students' seating consisted of small tables and armchairs crammed together in the circular space around the platform and the professor's area.
Whether the atmosphere was deliberate or simply accidental, it created a mood that seemed unusually fitting for this particular class, if not remotely comfortable.
On entering, Extimum split off from Hermione and went to sit with his own housemates.
Mitchell: "Where'd you go? You took ages getting here."
Extimum: "Had to use the bathroom."
Steve: "You should have said, we'd have waited."
Mitchell: "Yeah, well, the smell in this room's giving me a bit of a headache. I'd rather be outside."
Padma: "I think it smells rather nice. A little stifling, maybe, but it's a pleasant scent."
"Welcome"—Out of the shadows at the back of the room stepped a slight woman in enormous spectacles, dressed in a rather singular fashion—."How lovely to set eyes on you all in the flesh at last."
"Do sit, my dears, do sit. Welcome to Divination. I am Professor Trelawney. You won't have seen me before; I so rarely venture down into the bustle of the main castle. It clouds my Inner Eye."
No one said a word, sizing up the peculiar professor with a mix of anticipation, curiosity, disdain, and plain indifference.
"You have chosen to study Divination, the most demanding of all the magical arts. I must warn you from the very start, if you do not possess the Sight, there is very little I shall be able to teach you. Books, too, will only carry you so far..."
"Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearances, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future"—Professor Trelawney went on, sweeping her enormous, glittering eyes across the row of nervous faces—"it is a gift granted to only a chosen few. Tell me, boy"—she said suddenly to Neville, who very nearly toppled out of his seat—"is your grandmother keeping well?"
Neville: "I think so," he answered shakily.
Trelawney: "I wouldn't be quite so sure, dear." The firelight from the hearth glinted off her long, emerald earrings.
** Gulp **
Neville swallowed hard, while Professor Trelawney carried serenely on.
"This year we shall cover the fundamentals of Divination. The first months will be given over to reading tea leaves. After that, we move on to palmistry. And speaking of which, my dear"—she said, turning suddenly to Parvati Patil—"do watch yourself around a certain red-haired boy."
Parvati threw a startled glance at Ron, seated right behind her, and edged her chair away from him.
"Toward the end of the year we shall move on to the crystal ball, assuming our reading of the flames doesn't run long. Unfortunately, an unpleasant bout of influenza will disrupt our lessons come February. I myself shall lose my voice entirely. And around Easter, one among you will leave us, for good."
A heavy, uneasy silence followed the remark, though Professor Trelawney did not seem to notice it at all.
"My dear"—she added, turning to Lavender Brown, who was seated closest to her and sank back into her chair—"would you be so good as to pass me the large silver teapot?"
Lavender let out a breath of relief, got up, took a great teapot down from the shelf, and set it on the table before Professor Trelawney.
"Thank you, dear. Oh, and by the way, what you're dreading will come to pass this Friday, the sixteenth of October."
Lavender shivered.
"Now then, I want you all to pair off. Take a cup from the shelf, come up to me, and I shall fill it for you. Sit down and drink until only the dregs are left. Swirl the dregs three times with your left hand, then turn the cup upside down onto its saucer."
"Wait until the last drop has fallen, then pass your cup to your partner so they may read it. You will interpret the shapes left by the leaves using pages five and six of Unfogging the Future. I shall come round to help and give instructions as needed. Oh, and dear..."
Catching Neville by the arm just as he made to stand—"when you break your first cup, would you be a dear and take one of the blue ones instead? I'm rather fonder of the pink."
The seemingly offhand remark set Neville visibly on edge, and he made his way toward the cups with exaggerated care. Extimum followed him with his eyes, curious.
Despite his obvious effort to be careful, Neville's clumsy hands still somehow managed to knock into a pair of cups sitting beside the blue ones he was reaching for.
With a a snap, though, the cups stopped just short of the floor and floated over to Extimum, who caught them, under Neville's grateful look and Trelawney's mildly interested one.
'Is this the kind of thing that was fated to happen no matter the warning, or... was it the warning itself that set the whole thing in motion?'
Trelawney: "Thank you for keeping those from breaking, dear."
Extimum nodded and returned to his seat with a pair of white cups in hand, still turning the moment over in his mind.
Trudor: "I don't know if it's a good sign or a bad one that our very first attempt at Divination involves cups that were meant to break, but had their fate changed because you interfered." He said it thoughtfully, picking up his own cup.
Extimum: "That's a bit of a grey area for me, honestly. I suppose it comes down more to whatever meaning you decide to give it. Is it a blessed cup? A catastrophic one? An enigmatic one? Or maybe just an ordinary cup, like any other?"
Trudor gave a small shudder, setting his cup down on the table and looking at Extimum. —"I really don't like it when you say things that seriously. Somehow you make it sound frightening."
Extimum only smiled faintly and said nothing more.
A few minutes later everyone had their cups on the tables, and the great steaming teapot from before made its way around every seat, filling each cup with hot tea.
Trudor, like most of the others, rushed to drink his the moment it was poured. Whether from excitement or simply wanting to unwind a little, Extimum couldn't say, but unlike him, Extimum took his time, savoring the tea.
There was no reason to be uncouth about one's tea when there was no hurry. As he savored the taste, he took the Divination textbook with one of his tails and turned the pages with another, stopping at pages five and six.
Contrary to what he'd expected, it didn't launch straight into describing shapes and patterns with dire predictions attached. Instead it opened with a proper introduction, laying out the method step by step along with things to bear in mind. The following page began to introduce the visible patterns and how to identify them correctly.
By the time he reached page ten, Trudor was already growing restless watching him sip his tea so calmly. Meanwhile, Professor Trelawney was making her way around the tables, helping students interpret the dregs in their cups.
When their eyes met, Trudor couldn't hold back any longer. —"How much longer are you planning to nurse that tea? Finish it already, this is Divination, not teatime."
Extimum only gave him a brief look before swirling his cup three times, turning it upside down onto the saucer, and sliding it across to Trudor.
Trudor shot him a sour look, probably realizing he'd finished his own tea ages ago and had simply been absorbed in reading, still, without wasting any more time on it, he slid his own cup toward Extimum and picked up the one in front of him.
His interest hadn't dimmed in the slightest after reading through and studying several figures in the book, so he took Trudor's cup and turned it to peer inside.
The dregs had mostly dried by now, leaving only the remains of the tea at the bottom.
Nothing especially impressive at first glance. Just a dark, indistinct clump in the center of the cup, but as he turned it counterclockwise, exactly as the book instructed, something strange happened. Did it... did it actually have a discernible shape?
A simple stray drop? No... more like a streak, though... actually, did that look like a dagger? Followed by a small cluster of tea-leaf remnants.
** Badum **
The faint moisture shifted and stirred the remains, revealing... *Badum* something unsettlingly like a heart, *Badum* beating.
The droplets moved, and the heart seemed to shudder with every pulse. *Badum* The illusion of a sound in his ears.
With the continued movement, the streak, no, the dagger, moved toward the heart... and...
"Aaah!" ** Crack **
A sudden cry snapped Extimum out of his intense focus, making him look up.
Trelawney: "My poor boy... my poor, poor child... no... best I not say it... no... don't ask me..."
"What is it, Professor?"
Trelawney: "My dear boy, you have the Grim."
Harry: "The what?"
Trelawney: "The Grim, my dear, the Grim! The great, spectral hound that haunts graveyards! My poor boy, this is an omen, the very worst of omens... the omen of death." She said it, alarmed that he failed to grasp the weight of it.
A silence fell over the room, which only moments before had been full of noise, as everyone turned to look at Harry with a tangle of different emotions.
Hermione: "I don't think that looks anything like a Grim."
Professor Trelawney fixed Hermione with a look of growing displeasure.
Trelawney: "Forgive me for saying so, dear, but I sense very little aura about you. Very little openness to the resonances of what is to come."
Hermione: "It looks like a Grim if you squint like this"—she said, narrowing her eyes almost shut—"but like this, it looks like a donkey"—she added, tilting her head to the left.
Extimum rubbed the spot between his eyebrows, watching the clash between disbelief and superstition play out... or was it?
Turning his gaze back to the cup in his hand, he found all the shapes had vanished, only the tea residue remained, clumped along one side of the cup.
Harry: "When you're all quite finished deciding whether or not I'm about to die...!"—he said, clearly rattled. No one wanted to meet his eyes.
Trelawney: "I believe we'll leave it there for today"—the professor said, her voice much fainter now—"yes... please, gather your things..."
Extimum: "What did you see in my cup, Trudor?"
Trudor: "Eh... not sure, honestly. I wanted to ask the professor, but I don't think we'll get the chance today."
Glancing at the cup Trudor had left on the table, he considered picking it up, but decided against it in the end, he knew from what he'd read that this method tended to be unreliable when reading one's own cup. It had to be someone else.
'There'll be another chance.'
Most of the students kept quiet, handed their teacups back to Professor Trelawney, gathered their books and bags, and filed out of the room. Even Ron avoided Harry's eyes.
Trelawney: "Until we meet again, may good fortune go with you all."
Straightening their cups and packing away their books, the students began rising and filing out with different feelings in their hearts. Some unsettled, others intrigued, others with no particular opinion at all, and no shortage of those wondering whether any of it had been remotely objective.
Following the crowd, Extimum left the Divination classroom, still turning over what he'd seen in Trudor's cup. He might have missed the very end of it, but at least he was certain of what he had seen.
He didn't get to keep following that train of thought, though, since he found Hermione waiting for him just outside the classroom.
Hermione: "Ugh, I can't believe it, a professor, coming out with that kind of talk about someone dying? Don't you think that's completely irresponsible, Extimum?"
Extimum: "It is a bit irresponsible, yes, but something tells me that's not really what's bothering you."
Hermione: "Ugh."
Extimum: "Couldn't read anything in your cup?"
Hermione: "...You could?"
Extimum: "Something like that. It's the first time I've tried it, so I'm not entirely sure, but you shouldn't worry about it too much either way."
Hermione: "That's not exactly reassuring."
Extimum: "It doesn't have to be. Just give it time. Besides, from what I understand, you don't actually need to read the signs properly to pass the class, you just have to keep up with the coursework and get the material right on the exams. It's basically like any other class. Anyway, it's already past half nine."
Hermione: "Right... oh! Wait, we've got Transfiguration next, we don't have time to stand around chatting, come on, quickly, or we won't make it!"
Pulling Extimum along by the hand, Hermione took off running. There was a good distance between the two classrooms, and if they didn't hurry, they'd be late.
.
The morning of the first day of classes turned out to be a rather hectic one, especially since the two of them alone had two extra lessons that morning compared to everyone else, and between the time it took, they grew hungry much earlier than usual, having to hold out until classes ended before they could go to lunch.
Extimum felt somewhat tempted to slip away for a bite to eat, but there was no way to simply walk out of class like that, well, maybe if he cast an illusion... but that could easily go wrong.
He couldn't rely on Bloom either, since for this experiment he'd asked her to spend the morning keeping Luna company, so she wasn't with him. In fact, keeping her away was part of the experiment too, on top of sparing her the confusion.
Bloom had a spiritual bond with him through the contract, so the question was... when he traveled through time, would she feel all three versions of him from the different points in time? Just the one? Would she stop feeling him at all?
In fact, he was also curious whether the same held true for his bond with Hermione. though by now it had grown quite faint, since it had been a long time since he'd last drunk her blood, so the sensation was very weak.
When lunchtime finally came round, Extimum returned to his group at the Ravenclaw table and took the chance to compare notes with Bloom, confirming his suspicions.
Bloom had, in fact, sensed the presence and connection of two other Extimums, though it would be more accurate to call it a background sort of connection; if she hadn't been actively paying attention, she probably wouldn't have noticed it at all, and besides, they'd felt somehow... different.
Still, it was an interesting thing to know. Soul bonds reached beyond the limits of time.
By the end of lunch, Extimum and Hermione didn't cross paths again, they had different lessons, and there was no more need to use the Time-Turner for the rest of the day.
While Gryffindor and Slytherin had Care of Magical Creatures, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had History of Magic.
The lesson was, as ever, thoroughly dull.
Mitchell and Trudor had nodded off through more than half the class, and Padma, despite her best efforts, fell asleep with her face planted in her book. More and more he found himself thinking that someone really ought to raise a complaint about the way this subject was taught. He knew from his own experience that it could be done differently.
History didn't have to be told in such a dull, monotonous way. It could be dramatic, exciting, even inspiring... not just a tedious recitation.
After the afternoon's lessons, they were finally free, well, almost. Professor McGonagall had set homework on the very first day, so everyone gathered in the Great Hall to get it done.
.-.
Draco: "** Ow **! My arm! It's broken my arm! I think I'm dying!"
Hagrid: "Yer not dyin', it's jus' a scratch"—his face pale, Hagrid hurried over and gathered up Draco's writhing, groaning form—"someone give us a hand here, I've got to get him out of here."
The students cleared a path, and Hermione helped hold the gate open so Hagrid could get through.
Hagrid: "Lesson's over, everyone head back up to the castle, please." With that, he took off at a run toward the hospital wing, Draco in his arms.
The Slytherins, especially the group closest to Draco, hurried off after Hagrid.
Everyone, that is, except for one person.
A girl with short black hair stood rooted to the spot, torn by deep indecision, her eyes darting, for a few seconds at a time, between Hagrid's retreating figure carrying Draco and a boy in a torn, mud-streaked uniform, still standing among the Gryffindors as the crowd began drifting back toward the castle.
At last that indecision melted away, and after one final glance at Hagrid's figure, she turned with fresh resolve and strode purposefully toward Neville's rather dishevelled shape.
As she drew closer, the world itself seemed to conspire in her favor, within moments, the two of them were the only ones left in the place. A fact the boy, Neville, only registered far too late.
A look of pure horror crossed his eyes as he realized he'd been left alone with Pansy, and worse, they were well away from the castle, and he was weighed down by his heavy magical creatures textbook. This time, there was no escape.
As panic built in Neville, Pansy finally came to a stop in front of him. She showed no sign of any ill intent, but even so, given their past encounters, she instinctively blocked his path so he couldn't bolt.
Pansy: "Longbottom."
Neville: "P-Pansy..." Despite his nerves, he somehow managed to steady himself a little, resigned to the fact that there was no way out.
Contrary to what he'd expected, though, once each of them had said the other's name, there was only... silence.
Neither of them spoke. They simply stood there, in what felt like a standstill. Pansy's gaze stayed fixed on him, while Neville's mostly wandered, only occasionally meeting hers.
-POV Pansy-.
Pansy's hands were cold and clammy. Behind her indifferent exterior her thoughts were every bit as tangled as her heart, and, more than anything, she felt nervous, and maybe even a little afraid.
But whatever it took, she had to let out what she was feeling and get things sorted with Neville. Otherwise she'd never get her peace of mind back.
She'd already tried more than once, nearly giving up the time she'd made her best attempt at talking to him, and had still failed. She'd genuinely thought about letting it go. But the memory of that day, the things that had been said, and... her own heart, refused to leave her be no matter how hard she tried.
If nothing settled her doubts, her uncertainty, her curiosity, her... expectation, then it would just go on gnawing at her.
Watching Neville, she saw him look away, in his usual nervous way.
Tsk
A rather pitiful, unappealing sight for her taste, though, admittedly, she did carry some of the blame for it. After all, she hadn't exactly been gentle with him.
Even if most of the real damage had come from others, like Crabbe or Goyle, she'd had her own part in it too.
Then again, wretched as he looked right now, especially after being embarrassingly clobbered by his own magical book, his face wasn't so bad. Actually... he looked rather handsome. Just a little.
Ahem
Anyway, she was rambling. She needed to focus and get this right, even if things didn't end up going the way she wanted, she at least had to see it through properly, with some dignity, like the great witch she was becoming.
"LongB-Neville... listen to me, I just want to talk for a minute, all right? It won't take long. There's no one else around, and I'm not going to do anything to you, I only want to talk, understood?"
Neville swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and finally straightened up.
"Just... talk? Fine. I... don't think I can keep running from it either. Let's just say what we have to say and be done with it."
Pansy blinked, a little caught off guard, then nodded, easing out of a stance that, without her realizing, had come across as almost threatening, which in turn let Neville relax a little too.
"In that case, let's go over to that rock"—she said, pointing to a large boulder not far off—"we can sit there comfortably and talk."
Neville: "All right."
The two of them walked calmly over to the rock and sat down facing each other.
** Deep breath **
"What you said that time... you know... the day of Extimum's party... was it true?" Though she said it slowly, deliberately, she never noticed just how much nervousness her question was hiding.
Maybe she didn't want to know the answer, but she needed it, or she wouldn't be able to move forward.
Neville fidgeted weakly with his hands, then lifted his gaze and, with an unfamiliar strength, answered without a moment's hesitation.
"Yes. Although, first of all, I'm sorry. I said far too much that day, some of which I shouldn't have said. But I won't take back what came out of my mouth, and I won't deny that I still believe, firmly, every single thing I said."
Pansy's eyes went wide, and then, as it sank in, a deep flush spread over her face.
"Ev-every single thing you said?"
Neville: "Yes? That's what I said... ah! No! I mean, yes! But, that's not what I meant! You know..." The more he thought about it, the more he remembered there'd been more than one thing he'd said that day, and more than one point where he'd gone too far.
Her brow furrowed and the color in her cheeks deepened, though now with a small edge of anger.
"Do you believe it or don't you?!"
Neville: "I-I do! I believe it! I'd never lie about something like that! Even if it happened because of what we drank that day, I still couldn't." He answered with obvious embarrassment, but also with the resolve not to hide anything, so this could finally be left behind him.
-End POV-.
Pansy's face burned even hotter, right up to her ears, at his firm answer, her voice all but a shout in the empty clearing.
Pansy: "Fine! You said it! Now you can't take your words back." Ignoring her own flushed face, she rose from the rock, her voice ringing out loudly.
Watching her stand up so abruptly, Neville knew things were about to go badly, but since he'd already resolved to see this through, he didn't give himself time to think and got to his feet to face her too.
Neville: "Yes! Like I said, I won't take back a single word I've spoken! Let's finish this!"
Pansy: "Then take what's coming to you!"
Pansy stopped thinking altogether, every inhibition gone, and charged at Neville.
Seeing her bear down on him with her face twisted in fury, Neville finally panicked, throwing up his hands and screwing his eyes shut, bracing for the blow, but...
The pain he was expecting never came...
** Mwah **
'Huh... what's that?'
He felt something warm and damp against his lips, soft, but clumsy.
Opening his eyes in shock and confusion, he found Pansy's face right in front of his and... she was... she was kissing him...
His eyes went even wider, his mind blanking out entirely, torn between confusion at the situation, relief at not being hit, and the sweet warmth of this new sensation... his mind was pure chaos.
After what felt to Neville like an eternity, though it had really only been a few seconds, Pansy pulled back, taking two steps away, her face flushed, looking into his eyes with an expression Neville had never once seen on her before.
That strange look shook him slightly, and through the fog of his own mind, he finally realized something: that flush... wasn't anger.
"So... how was it?" ''What did I just do? Did I kiss him? Me?'
"Eh? What? Did you say something?" Her voice had come out as barely a murmur, and Neville hadn't caught it.
** Cough **
Pansy coughed weakly and turned her head away.
"How was it?" 'And now what do I do?'
Her voice came again, soft, nearly inaudible, and Neville nearly asked her to repeat herself, except this time, he actually understood.
Not only did he understand it, but his brain finally caught up with the whole situation, and a flush rose to his own face.
Neville: "Huh, it was good... soft and warm, though maybe a little clumsy... not that I have much experience." 'Unless Grandma's kisses count, though those are different.'
Hearing his answer, Pansy felt a tangle of relief, irritation, and amusement, unconsciously pouting. 'I don't have much experience either, honestly. I don't have any.'
They stayed silent for a few minutes, the air taking on an awkward edge now that neither of them knew how to proceed.
Surprisingly, it was Neville who took the initiative to speak.
"That kiss... what does it mean?"
Pansy: "It m-means... just that, a kiss."
Neville: "Just that? That kiss... I don't buy it."
Pansy: "You don't buy it? You think I care what you make of it? If I say it's just-"
Neville: "No, you do care."
Pansy: "Wh-what?"
Neville: "At first I thought you were angry, with the way you are, and everything you've done, I couldn't have thought otherwise. But... that kiss... it changes everything."
Pansy: "No, it doesn't."
Neville: "Yes, it does, because if all this time what you actually wanted was to hear me confirm what happened that day, then... then that means it matters to you. And if it matters, it means you care. And no one kisses someone just because."
Pansy: "I..."
Neville: "I'm confused too, but... now I want to know as well. So I'm going to ask you again, and whatever you answer, I'll take it as the truth."
"That kiss... what does it mean? What did it mean to you, when you gave it to me?"
Pansy said nothing. She didn't answer, didn't dare to. She'd been determined, but perhaps the right word was impulsive. Simply put, just as she'd told herself before facing Neville, she'd wanted to let out what she felt, and that was exactly what she'd done the moment she heard him confirm it all with such conviction, right to the very end.
Why had she kissed him?
She didn't know... simply, that day, after waking up in the morning and remembering what had happened the day before, remembering his words, his actions, the way he'd looked at her.
It had moved her in a way she hadn't known was possible. Maybe it was the drink talking, or maybe just the unmistakable sincerity in everything he'd said, or maybe it was because no one had ever told her something like that before, least of all to her face, without fear, without holding back, and without some hidden agenda underneath.
It wasn't as though she'd lived a great deal, but she'd seen a few things.
Witches and wizards grow up fast.
That's not about physical or mental growth, not in most cases, anyway. It's that from a very young age, their grasp of things is already far ahead of what their years would suggest.
Most of them, even those not from noble families, grow up in a fairly harsh world. Politics, family ties, blood, money, magic, duty, study, struggle, death, isolation... love?
It's nothing new, and it's nothing unusual, either. But most young witches and wizards carry that weight with them from a very young age. Only the Muggle-born seem entirely untouched by it, a blessing, perhaps, or maybe more of a curse, once they grow up and step into the wizarding world.
British wizarding society, at least, worked that way, though from what she knew, it held true for most of the magical world.
There was a great deal of responsibility resting on everyone, though that didn't mean everyone chose to carry it.
So she found herself hesitant, now that it was done. With the impulse spent, her reservations came flooding back, plenty of them, in fact, even her own mind hadn't fully accepted what she'd done.
A Slytherin with a Gryffindor? One from the dark side and one from the light?
Neville, of all people? The boy whose one redeeming quality seemed to be how well he looked after his plants? The laughingstock of the school? At least he wasn't a Mudblood, or a blood traitor like the Weasleys, still... still...
Neville: "I understand. I'll take your silence as my answer. Sigh At least it's finally over." Climbing down off the rock, he gathered his things and started off toward the way out.
He wouldn't deny there was some disappointment in him, but it was for the best, he felt relieved the ordeal was finally over, and with any luck, they'd bother him less from now on.
Pansy: "Wait."
Finally, watching him walk away, she snapped out of her own thoughts.
Neville didn't stop. As he'd said, he already had his answer, and besides, he was rather tired after the long day and wanted to get out of his uniform.
Jumping down off the rock, Pansy ran, not especially fast, but enough to catch up to him in no time.
Pansy: "I told you to wait."
Neville: "What for?" He didn't stop. It seemed as though all his fear of her had simply vanished.
Pansy: "I haven't given you my answer."
Neville: "Yes, you have. That long silence counts as one. It's not exactly a surprise, either."
Pansy: "No. Silence is just that, silence. Not an answer."
Neville finally stopped, turning his head to look at her.
"So then, what's the real answer?"
Pansy: "I..."
Neville: "See? There isn't one. So don't waste any more of my time." There was a note of irritation in his voice as he started walking again.
Pansy: "E-even if I told you, it's not allowed, it's wrong." Pansy followed after him.
Neville: "Why is it wrong? Isn't it just an answer?"
Pansy: "You know what I mean. Giving you an answer would change everything."
Neville: "Then there's no need to tell me anything, is there? Isn't that what you want?"
Pansy: "Argh, yes, but... no. You... you're you... and... I'm me."
Neville: "Well, that's certainly illuminating." He answered sarcastically, his humor gone sour over words that sounded foolish on the surface but carried a clear enough meaning for the right listener.
Pansy stopped, clenched her fists, but her mouth refused to move to say... say what?
Why was she even still following him, still dragging this out? She already had her outcome. She'd already heard what she wanted to hear, and already done what she wanted to do. She didn't have to carry that weight anymore...
What she wanted to do? Was that really it? Wasn't this about what she felt, rather than what she thought?
Pansy: "That kiss... was what I felt."
Pansy's voice wasn't very loud, and Neville's figure had already put some distance between them, but in the stillness of the grounds, he still caught it, and it stopped him in his tracks once more.
An inexplicable shiver ran through his body.
He didn't even know where he'd found the nerve and resolve to act the way he was acting. Maybe the key was that he wasn't really thinking it through at all, just, like that day, saying and doing exactly what he felt. Maybe it was also because he still hadn't fully processed what had happened only moments ago, and was simply forcing himself to keep going.
Even before his mind had caught up with what he was saying, his mouth was already moving.
Neville: "And what is it you feel? Love? Fondness? Attraction? Or just curiosity?... Interest? Some kind of joke?"
Pansy: "No!... I'm not entirely sure. Can't you... give me time to think?"
Neville: "You're the one who kissed me. Why should I be the one giving you time to think it over? Shouldn't it be the other way round? And yet here I am, waiting, right now, this very moment, for your answer. But that answer only matters to me now, in this moment. Once I've gone, maybe I'll think it over more clearly, maybe I'll think it through rationally, and then it won't matter what it is anymore, it won't mean a thing."
Pansy went blank for a moment, a fresh storm of thoughts racing wildly through her head. But this time, despite her silence, Neville didn't leave; he waited, patiently.
Pansy: "So... just the answer? Nothing else matters, is that it?"
Neville: "I don't know about that. That part's up to me, but it's up to you to decide too."
Pansy: "If that's how it is... The kiss, it was what I felt, and... what I feel isn't love... it isn't mockery, either. It's just that what you said that day... it moved me. It wouldn't stop turning over in my head no matter what I did or how much time passed, and hearing you confirm that none of it was some drunken nonsense, but exactly what you meant, made me happy. It made me euphoric, maybe too much so, and I felt like there was no other way to say it except... with that kiss."
"So that kiss was both an impulse, and exactly what I truly wanted. Is... is that enough?"
Neville: "Yes. It's enough." Neville swallowed weakly, his mouth suddenly dry, despite not being the one who'd just spoken.
Pansy: "So...?"
Neville: "You said before that you're you, and I'm me."
Pansy: "That..."
Neville: "But I understand it. Even if the way you put it bothers me, I understand. Still, we're still at school, only in our third year, and besides, in here and out there are two completely different things. So... so... if you want... why, why not give it a try?"
As he said his last words, Neville felt his face drain of color, properly this time, and with what little remained of his consciousness… no, scratch that, with what little remained of his composure, he'd just said something genuinely bold.
Was that even really him talking? Had he been possessed? Was this the Gryffindor spirit the teachers were always going on about? He didn't know, but he could feel his hands turning cold, and he didn't dare turn his head.
Pansy: "I... So... You... Yes?"
Neville: "Yes?" he asked nervously, with no idea what was even happening in the world anymore, though outwardly his voice came out rough and strained from the effort.
Pansy very nearly jumped at the sound of his voice, thinking for a moment he might be annoyed by how hesitant and uncertain her "yes" had sounded, so she hurried to answer.
Pansy: "Yes, I-I want to try!" Her voice rang out louder than she'd meant it to, echoing faintly across the open grounds.
Neville trembled faintly. 'Yes? Did she just say yes? What's happening? Yes to what, to what I said? What did I even say? It was that simple? Does that mean she and I are now...?'
"Come here."
His voice came out hard and rough again, in an attempt to hold his emotions in check.
Though that same voice felt forced and embarrassing even to him, Pansy took it as his acceptance, though he still didn't feel entirely satisfied.
Without quite realizing it, she felt a flicker of nervousness, and though she ran to close the distance, there was something strangely cautious about the way she moved.
Watching her arrive at his side, head slightly bowed, Neville thought he might burst.
'Oh, Merlin, Salazar, Dumbledore, she actually came? Now what? Did she really mean it? Is this serious?'
Neville: "I just hope you mean it."
Pansy: 'Huh? Mean it? What does that mean? Wasn't I already shouting it loud enough? Wait... does he want me to... prove it? Here? Now? Well, I already kissed him, so...'
Not knowing what else to do, Pansy looked at his back, and then... hugged him?
Neville: 'What? What's happening? Is she hugging me? Why is she hugging me? Should I turn around and hug her back, or just wait?'
Inside, both of them were a complete mess.
A few seconds later.
'She still hasn't let go. Do I really have to hug her back, or she won't let go otherwise? Isn't that a bit much to ask? Should we just take this slow? Ah, well, she already kissed me, so I suppose hugging her back isn't that much more.'
A little stiffly, Neville turned without breaking the embrace and hugged her back, even tighter.
'Hmm. Well... this isn't so bad.'
Pansy: 'Ahh, what's happening? I was about to let go, why is he hugging me now too? Even if I kissed him first, this is a little... too fast. I can feel his breath, close to me...'
.