Roses Bloom in Unexpected Places

Roses Bloom in Unexpected Places.

Potions again. Trudging along with a heavy heart, Neville groaned inwardly at the prospect of seeing his less-than-favorite teacher. You didn't need to be a Divination professor to know that Neville was sure to botch his potion... again. Remembering some of his past concoctions - one that exploded and caused people to speak in tongues, and another that gave Ron the hiccups for a week - he wondered if he had been wise in taking Potions. Sixth years weren't obligated to take Potions, but Neville's career choice had demanded it. As he had told McGonogall and no one else, he wanted to be an Auror. His secret hopes of avenging his parents' misfortune had been amplified by the incident in the Ministry of Magic the year before. Yet no matter how broad his dreams, his fear of rejection kept him down to earth. During all of his time at Hogwarts, he had borne the stigma of being Neville, something quite unexplainable in words. However, amidst all of his desire to prove himself, he knew that it wasn't the only reason he took Potions, but dared not look at the other; something to do with the curly-haired girl that now approached him. He wouldn't think about it. He would not.

"Hey Neville," she said cheerfully.

"Hey 'Mione," he replied. She rolled her eyes at the nickname, making him laugh. She always made him laugh.

"The guys are talking about Quidditch... again," she said, gesturing to Harry and Ron, "so I thought I would find me some sane conversation." She looked at Neville and smiled, making him smile in return.

"It's different around here this year," he remarked, "quieter sort of." He laughed. "I guess it has something to do with the terrible twins being gone."

"Hey, do you remember the time when Fred and George put Exploding Snap cards in the First years' beds, making them explode during the night?" Hermione said, laughing.

"Yeah," he replied, "and remember when..." The knot in his stomach loosened as they talked about Fred and George, a favorite topic among those who knew them.

* * *

Neville sat in the common room that night, struggling with his Potions essay: Unicorn Tail Hairs and their Use in Potion Making. He sighed and racked his brain, trying in vain to remember Snape's lecture. Think, he told himself sternly, think. As he sighed again, Hermione strolled up and sat down, glancing at the few measly sentences he had written.

"Having trouble?" she asked kindly. He nodded and gave her a pretty-please-will-you-help-me-because-I-don't-know-what-I'm-doing look. Hermione smiled patiently and sat down.

As she helped him with his essay, her quill scratching out sentences with more joy than Padfoot would have beating up Mrs. Norris, he thought about how different they were. She's so much better than me, he mused, so much smarter, braver... I wish... Her voice broke through his thoughts.

"Do you understand now?" she asked, then laughed, seeing his blank face. "You weren't listening, were you?" Neville blushed mightily and shook his head.

Harry and Ron sat at the other end of the common room, watching Hermione and Neville, oblivious to everyone else as they worked.

"You know," Ron said, "if Hermione ever thought we weren't paying attention to her, she would get mad at us. Seriously mad." Harry nodded as he kept watching them. He had never thought about Hermione and Neville as a pair, but oddly enough, he noticed that--

"They look right together, don't they?" Ron remarked, echoing Harry's thoughts.

"Yeah, they do," Harry replied, a grin spreading across his face. "But I don't think they know it."

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Neville's attraction to Hermione grew, although he refused to acknowledge it. Whenever he entered a classroom, he found himself automatically looking around to see where she was. Whenever something funny, or serious, or basically anything happened, he glanced over at her to see her reaction. But blind to his own actions, he tried to convince himself that he felt nothing for her. Nothing.

Unknown to all, Hermione was changing too. She was becoming patient, kind, and almost mellow, especially with Neville, and seemed to cross the common room to help him with his work more often.

* * *

Hermione and Neville sat at the secluded table in the common room that become their table. The firelight glinted off of Neville's parchment as he and Hermione struggled with a particularly nasty Potions essay. As they worked, Hermione decided to ask the question that had been plaguing her for a while.

"Why did you take Potions?"

Neville looked away from her gaze and attempted to distract her. "So, if the mass of the picked toad is..."

Hermione cut him off. "Don't change the subject, why did you take it?"

So much for that, thought Neville glumly.

That's what you get for liking a girl who can read your mind, his conscience replied.

I don't like her, he told his conscience, I don't.

Oh, but you do... it replied.

Don't.

Do.

Don't!!

DO!!!... Neville looked up and saw Hermione gazing expectantly at him. He cleared his throat. Several times.

"Well..." he said in a small voice, "I want to be an Auror." Hermione's hazel eyes widened in surprise, but then a soft light crept into them. She gave him a warm smile.

"That's... well... really, um... neat," she said slowly, struggling to find her words. "Don't get me wrong," she added hastily. "I'm really, well, happy for you," she finished lamely, embarrassment tingeing her cheeks.

* * *

It was a late fall morning, with a breeze whipping around the castle, leaving mussed hair and shaken leaves in its wake. Hermione and Neville walked slowly around the grounds, as had become their habit, talking between themselves.

"You know, I'm glad that you're going to be an Auror", Hermione remarked suddenly. Neville nodded, content. Oddly enough, he didn't mind discussing the subject with her, though he feared his classmates' reactions. Poor Neville, he never seemed to think much of himself. They walked down the path silently for a few minutes, then Neville grew bold and took her hand.

Why did I do that? He demanded of himself. Why did I do that?

Isn't it obvious? The little voice replied, the one that seemed to be pestering him lately. You like her. Neville pondered that for a few seconds, and suddenly knew it to be true. He liked the girl beside him. In the trying years to come, he would never doubt the love that he felt for the woman by his side.

Hermione felt shocked for a second when she realized that he had taken her hand. It was so... unexpected. And as she looked into his eyes, she realized that she felt shy. Hermione, the controlling, have-it-her-way-Hermione, felt shy. But as she glanced at him again out of the corner of her eye, her own little revelation came. I like him, she thought, he's not, well, Harry or Ron, but he's Neville. He's kind, funny, sweet, and determined, she thought suddenly, as Potions flew into her mind. From that moment on, she never compared him to Harry or Ron again, and would stand by him though the world tried to keep them apart. As she leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, he blushed.

What a lovely picture they made, though neither one really knew the extent of it, Neville blushing, Hermione with starry eyes. The image of first love, pure and trusting, a love that would grow to surpass obstacles many failed to clear. Yes, quite a picture they made, Hermione and Neville.

* * *

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville joined the line forming in front of Filch. After he checked them off his list, they started down the path to Hogsmeade, talking animatedly. A little ways into their walk, Hermione noticed that Harry and Ron seemed to be dropping back behind them a bit, and continued until they had fallen out of normal speaking range. Hermione leaned in close to Neville.

"What are they doing?" she whispered, making a small gesture towards Harry and Ron. Neville turned and looked behind him, and was met with the sight of Harry and Ron making wild gestures and pointing to Hermione.

"Turn around and look", he replied. She turned, and saw the same sight, but with the pointing being directed at Neville.

"Do you think they're trying to give us a hint?" she whispered.

"I think so," Neville said mischievously. He smiled and kissed Hermione, on the path to Hogsmeade, not caring who saw them. He kissed her, not noticing the open-mouthed stares of Harry and Ron. He kissed her, losing all of his fear and gaining all of his self-confidence.

He kissed her.

* * *

What if she doesn't like it? The little voice played in his head, worrying him. She's not a Herbology nut like you are. Neville sighed.

Shut up, will you? It will be fine. He tried to quiet the obnoxious voice. As he saw her come down the staircase, he got nervous again.

Here goes nothing. She won't like it I tell you... the voice in his head predicted dismally. But Neville had pushed those thoughts out of his head the best he could and was walking over to her.

"Merry Christmas Sweetie," he said, and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

"Merry Christmas," she replied happily.

"I have a surprise for you," he whispered in her ear, "follow me." She smiled and followed him out through the portrait hole.

"Now, close your eyes," he murmured. "I'll lead you there." She obeyed and shut her eyes tightly. She took his hand and let him lead her up stairs and through corridors, trusting him completely. They stopped in front of a closed classroom door. Neville opened it, led her inside, and took a deep breath.

"You can look now." Hermione opened her eyes and looked around in amazement. They were in an empty classroom, but it was full of roses. They were in pots and magically created flowerbeds. They grew on trellises that hung over rose-bordered pathways. Hermione sat down on the nearest bench and stared.

"Do you like it?" Neville asked worriedly.

"I...I...love it," she said, still in shock. They spent the next hour wandering around the small garden, Neville pointing out the flowers.

"I came up here every afternoon," he told Hermione, "and got Professor Sprout to help me make the flowerbeds and plant some of the roses." After a while, they sat down on the bench in peaceful silence.

Hermione had seen him around plants before, and she could imagine him tenderly taking care of those roses for her, watching them grow with excitement. She looked over at him and smiled. I remember what I used to think of him, she mused, I used to see him as a self-conscious, shy, incapable little boy. She laughed softly. If I had been told last year that I would fall in love with him, I would have laughed. But roses bloom in unexpected places.

.