Watching

I’ve been watching her, you know.

It’s been a long time. Well, that’s because I’ve known her for a long time. Still, I don’t think I’ll ever get bored of her.

But she never sees me.

I mean, she knows my name and things like that but she doesn’t see me. I’m just this stupid clumsy kid with a “Pity Me” sign on my back. They never see me for what I am now, but what I was six years ago. Believe me, I have changed.

Last week, Harry and Ron bumped into me outside of Potions class. I never did get into that N.E.W.T.’s class, but they sure did. And they made sure I knew. The last thing they said to me before they walked away laughing was, “So how many cauldrons destroyed this week, Neville?”

I haven’t melted, destroyed or lost anything in two years. But they never see that. They see Trevor, and the missing passwords, and the Remembrall.

It shouldn’t bother me too much. It doesn’t usually bother me too much. Only when she joins in. She joined them at the end of the hall last week, threw a grin over her shoulder at me, and just laughed along with them.

With all the smarts that she’s known for, you would expect her to look deeper into a person. But in that respect, she’s just as bad as those other girls. But only in that respect.

The rest of her is perfect. Her eyes sparkle when she’s happy and her smile crinkles up at the end when she smiles. I bet you never knew she has these tiny, barely there, dimples. I think I'm the only one that notices these things.

That's why it almost broke me when I saw her kissing Ron by the fireplace on Christmas. They didn't see me, of course. They were too busy with each other. I could see his hands in her hands and in her blouse. I could even hear the soft groans Hermione made when he trailed kisses down her neck.

I would’ve given anything to be him.

I asked her to the Yule Ball in our fourth year. I knew Harry and Ron would never see how beautiful she really was. And I remembered the help she gave me in Potions. I have become a lot better at Potions now. It was never that I had no talent, my parents were known for their own potion-making skills when they were in Hogwarts, but Snape himself. Grams had told me that he was a spy, a spy for Dumbledore. But when my parents were being killed, he was there, disguised as a Death Eater. He watched them being tortured, screaming in agony. Snape was one of the last people to see them. Just being by him scares me now.

But when I was with her, I forgot all about Snape. All I saw was the wonderful, smart girl who spent time with me. She didn’t pity me, she just made sure I had written down and remembered everything. I thought that maybe she saw me for Neville, not as the son of Frank and Alice Longbottom or the silly boy who loses his frog. When I asked her though, her eyes almost took on this pleading look as if to ask someone to get her out of this situation or as if she were hoping this was all a big joke.

I ended up taking Ginny Weasley. I found her sitting upset, curled up in those squishy chairs in the Common Room. I suppose she had wanted to go with Harry, but rather than not go at all, she decided not to wait and went with me. I felt bad for her, I barely danced with her. Hermione was just too breath-taking to be ignored.

First year, when I first met her, I thought it was just a puppy-love crush. She went with Ron and Harry, completing their Golden Trio, to risk her life. She wasn’t even thinking about getting caught or her own safety. I had to help her. Instead she simply said, “Petrificus Totalus” and went on her way.

Strangely enough, that was the greatest thing anyone has ever done for me. Gryffindor won the House Cup because of my ten points. Even without trying, Hermione Granger seems to make everything better.

Someday I might live up to the Gryffindor courage and tell her how I feel.

But until then, I’ll just keep watching her, waiting.