Three

Three

~By Chronic Chaos

~*~

"Hermione, I'll never understand this Potions assignment. It's no use trying to teach me," Neville was whining as Hermione flipped through the pages of Potions for Complete and Total Idiots.

"Neville, just listen to me." The chubby boy opened his outh in protest but Hermione placed her own finger to her lips and he silenced, so she continued. "Now Neville, you'll never learn how to brew potions properly if you don't start believing in yourself. My mother always said that if one believes in oneself, one can accomplish absolutely anything."

"Three?"

"What?"

"You said 'one' three times," said Neville.

Hermione simply placed her head into her hands, muttering something incoherent.

"Neville, Neville, Neville," she finally whispered.

"Three? I mean, what?" Neville asked.

"Nothing," she snapped. "Just nothing."

"Hermione, are you mad at me?" asked the boy's quivering voice.

"No! Of course not. Why would I be mad at you?"

"Because I'm dumb," Neville squeaked.

"Neville Longbottom, you are not dumb!" Hermione yelled so loudly that the boy nearly jumped from his seat.

"Well, I can't understand even the simplest of potions! I'm just not cut out for wizardry," he added quietly.

Hermione took Neville's hand and smiled at him. "Neville, you are going to be a wonderful wizard -- you already are," she added.

"Y-you think I'm a good wizard?"

"Well, of course I do. You see Neville, the best wizards aren't those who excel at every subject, or those who remember everything that they are told, or even those who save lives. The very best wizards are those who are pure of heart. They are the few who can admit their defeats just as proudly as their triumphs. The very best wizards, Neville, are just like you," Hermione finished, letting go of his hand to gather the mass of books and quills on the table. "Now come on, you should go to bed; we can work more on this assignment tomorrow."

She stood up and walked to the the large couch. Neville followed her slowly, a look of uncertainty on his face.

"Hermione," he whispered.

"Yes, Neville," she asked, somewhat hopefully.

"Thank you. For everything you've done. I really appreciate you helping me and I want to make it up to you somehow."

"Neville, you're very welcome, and you've deserved every bit of help I've given you. You don't need to make it up to me."

"Well, if you honestly mean that," he started.

"Of course I do. I help you because you're my friend. Your friendship and appreciation are all the payback I ask for." She smiled at him again, and looked at him in surprise as he took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it tenderly three times.

"Three," she whispered to herself as her face moved closer to his, almost on its own. She lost all coherent thought as her lips met his and they seemed to fit together perfectly. Neither dared to take the kiss further, and after a moment, they parted.

"I'm sorry," squeaked Neville, blushing furiously.

"D-don't be sorry. I don't want to hear apologies, or excuses," she said, somewhat harshly. Neville's face grew even redder, and tears came to his eyes. Then he heard her voice again, much softer and gentler this time.

"I just want you to kiss me again."