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September 1, 1991:
Hermione stepped out of yet another compartment and shut the door behind her, muffling the giggles that followed her out into the corridor. The group of girls inside—who appeared to be sixth years, at the very least—had been just as rude as they were unhelpful. Honestly, Hermione thought to herself, exasperated, what’s so funny about a missing toad?
Neville still looked to be on the verge of tears, as he had for the past half hour. He’d been far too frazzled to be of any real use during their search for Trevor, and it didn’t help that he seemed to be rather shy, but Hermione didn’t mind doing the most of the legwork. It was better that Neville followed her lead, anyway.
“Oh, we’re never going to find him, are we?” Neville despaired.
“We’ve still got one more car to look through,” Hermione said, her hands on her hips. She was nothing if not determined. “Come on, he must be here somewhere, I’m sure of it.”
The two of them moved further down the Hogwarts Express, entering the final passenger car. Hermione turned to the first compartment, Neville lingering over her shoulder, and abruptly slid the door open, startling the four students inside.
“Have any of you seen a toad? Neville’s lost his,” Hermione asked for what felt like the hundredth time that afternoon.
The two boys who’d been chatting on the left side exchanged baffled looks with one another. On the right side, an older girl blinked in confusion, slumped against the window and only half awake from the nap she’d been taking.
And next to her was you, with an open book resting in your lap.
“Is that A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch?” Hermione asked excitedly, not bothering to wait for a response on Trevor’s whereabouts. “I’ve only read about halfway through it, unfortunately, but I suspect I’ll be able to finish before the first lesson. It sounds like such fascinating magic. What are your thoughts? Have you reached the chapter on trans-species Transfiguration yet? Are you also a first year? My name’s Hermione Granger, by the way.”
You floundered for a moment at the sudden barrage of information, staring at Hermione with wide eyes. “Y-yes, I’m a first year,” you eventually stammered, introducing yourself with your first and last name. “And, um, I’m afraid I haven’t gotten that far. I’ve just been skimming, I suppose.”
“Oh.” Hermione frowned. “Well, there’s still an hour left until we reach Hogwarts. You have enough time to get through the preface, I’m sure. In the meantime, have you seen a toad around here? Any of you?” Hermione addressed the whole compartment.
You glanced at the other three students. The girl next to you had already fallen back asleep, and the two boys only shrugged, clearly disinterested. “I don’t think we have, sorry,” you said. “But… I could help you two look, if that’s alright?”
“I guess another pair of eyes couldn’t hurt,” Hermione said after a few moments of consideration, giving you a resolute nod. “As long as you want to, that is.”
“It’s fine, I’d like to help,” you said. You slipped your book into one of the bags sitting on the luggage rack before you followed her and Neville out into the corridor. Once the door was shut, you lowered your voice a bit, adding, “I’d rather hang out here with you two, anyway. No one in my compartment seems very keen on talking to a first year.”
“You’re welcome to sit with us after we’ve finished looking,” Hermione offered brightly.
“Thank you, I’d really like that,” you said, smiling, then turned to address Neville. “Your name’s Neville, right? It’s your toad that’s missing?”
That’s when Hermione noticed just how red Neville’s face had turned. Wide-eyed and frozen in place, he no longer looked ready to cry, but he seemed almost… frightened? Or nervous, rather? She couldn’t quite pin his odd expression.
Neville nodded and swallowed harshly. “R-Right,” he stuttered. “Neville Longbottom. And Trevor. That’s— That’s my toad’s name. Trevor.”
“Nice to meet you, Neville. What does Trevor look like? Just in case we stumble across him.”
“Erm, he’s a smooth-sided toad. You know, about— this big,” Neville held his hands up, mimicking something roughly the side of a sandwich, “and he’s brown. His sides are darker than his back.”
“Cute,” you said with a little grin, which seemed to fluster Neville further. He was quite suddenly unable to meet your eyes, instead looking down at his shoes as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.
And, oh, Hermione understood now.
Just then, a commotion back in the previous train car caught her attention. A muffled yell and a hard thump, followed by three boys—a pointy blonde and his two much larger companions—tumbling out of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley’s compartment.
“What sort of trouble could they possibly be up to?” Hermione huffed, hands on her hips as she watched the boys run away. She turned back to you and Neville. “I better go see what’s going on. Keep looking for Trevor,” she ordered.
And with that, Hermione stomped off. She didn’t feel bad about leaving the two of you to your own devices. You seemed competent enough to lead the search for Neville’s missing toad, and telling by the way Neville was staring dazedly at your profile, he probably wouldn’t even notice her absence.
February 14, 1994:
Seamus’s chess pieces didn’t trust Neville. Not in the slightest. Sure, they were a bit prickly with every new person they encountered, but he and Neville had been playing chess together since they were first years, and they still yelled at him for every poor decision. It was quite funny, Seamus thought.
“Okay, um… left bishop, move to C5,” Neville said.
“Are you mad?” the little bishop turned to shout at Neville. “His knight will cut my head clean off! Look, you still have space to move your pawns, sacrifice one of them! They’re far less important than me!”
Neville groaned and hung his head while Seamus cackled. It was evening, not long after dinner, and there were a fair few other Gryffindors milling about the common room. Neville and Seamus, who were fortunate enough to have snagged a spot near the fire, were interrupted by the Fat Lady’s portrait swinging open, Dean stepping in through the opening.
“Ah, lover boy!” Seamus called, waving Dean over to join them. He plopped down next to Seamus on the couch, a bright smile lingering on his face as he surveyed the chessboard in front of them.
“Having a rough time, Neville?” Dean asked, nodding at the pile of white pieces Seamus had already collected off him. “Don’t worry, Seamus’s board is hard to play with. Not very friendly.”
“Hey!” the chess pieces cried out in an offended chorus. They went ignored.
“Never mind that,” Seamus said, knocking his elbow excitedly against Dean. “You did it, right?”
“Yeah, I saw her in the library just now.”
“And?” Seamus asked.
Dean shrugged, ducking his head, though the smile remained on his face. “She liked it. I charmed it to float over to her table and she got all embarrassed. But in a good way. It was cute.”
“Wait, what are you two talking about?” Neville asked.
“Dean’s in love,” Seamus sing-songed, earning himself a whack on the arm.
“Shut up, no I’m not!” Dean laughed.
Neville grinned at his roommates, entertained. “Oh really? With who, then?”
With you, Seamus was all too pleased to tell him.
He’d spent the last two weeks listening to Dean fret over his newfound crush and the various romantic gestures he’d been concocting for Valentine’s Day—Seamus even pitching in his own ideas whenever Dean drew a blank. Needless to say, he was eager to tease his best friend now that he’d finally made a move.
On the other side of the coffee table, sat in the armchair he and Seamus had pulled up to play chess, all amusement had dropped from Neville’s face. He gaped at Dean and Seamus.
Neville repeated your name, questioning.
“Yeah, her. Who else would we be talking about?” Seamus said.
“I-I don’t know, I just… I didn’t…” Neville trailed off. His troubled expression went unnoticed by the other two Gryffindors.
“I picked up a chocolate frog for her last weekend in Hogsmeade. And a card,” Dean said happily. “It was a bit cheesy, but it had a dragon on it. You said she’s really interested in dragons, right, Neville?”
“…Right.” Neville’s voice was flat.
“So what now? Are you going to ask her out anytime soon?” Seamus asked.
Dean shrugged again, scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe. I’m working up to it. I think I might—”
Neville cut him off. “What kind of dragon was it?”
“…What?”
“What kind of dragon was it? On the card,” he insisted.
“Uh. I don’t know. It was red—?”
“Her favorite is the Welsh Green.”
Seamus shared a confused look with Dean, who seemed equally as lost. Neville’s face was hard in a way neither of them had seen before, his posture tense as he gripped the armrests of his chair tight enough to blanch his knuckles. Even the chess pieces had paused to watch the exchange.
“Well, I mean… it was a Valentine’s Day card,” Seamus reasoned hesitantly.
Dean nodded along. “Yeah, mate, every card there was red and pink and full of glitter. I really don’t think it matters—”
“It does matter, because her favorite is a Welsh Green! If you knew her at all, you would’ve gotten her one with a bloody Welsh Green!” Neville exclaimed, standing suddenly from his chair. He jostled the table in the process, and the chess pieces cried out as they rattled around on the board.
Dean and Seamus weren’t the only ones who stared as Neville quickly stalked away, crossing the common room and disappearing up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory. His outburst had caught the attention of the other nearby Gryffindors, who all immediately started murmuring to one another and casting curious glances towards the two boys left behind on the couch. Their mouths hung open in shock.
“What the hell is his problem?” Dean sputtered after a lengthy pause, more baffled than he was angry. “All that because of a stupid card?”
Seamus just shook his head, watching the abandoned chess pieces as they grumbled and shuffled around the board, reordering themselves.
You and Neville hung around each other a lot, sure, but Seamus had never really given your friendship much thought. Maybe because he didn’t know you very well. Maybe because he didn’t know Neville as well as he thought, either.
But now—
Now things made a lot more sense.
December 25, 1994:
Ginny liked Neville.
Not romantically, of course. Unfortunately, that place in her heart was still taken by the boy who was currently sulking alongside her idiot brother at an empty dining table after they’d both been ditched by the Patil twins.
But Neville was a good friend. He was sweet and kind and had been nothing but a gentleman to her for the whole duration of the Yule Ball, despite his frequent awkwardness and the many times he had accidentally stepped on her toes while attempting to dance. He was trying his best to be a good date, and Ginny appreciated that.
She just wished, perhaps a bit selfishly, that she’d been asked to the ball by a boy who actually wanted to go with her, rather than a boy who was so clearly head over heels for another girl and torn up over the fact that she’d arrived on someone else’s arm.
During one of the moments that Neville’s attention drifted away, his expression suddenly forlorn, Ginny had followed his gaze and been unsurprised to find you there on the dancefloor, smiling wide, your hands clasped with that one Durmstrang boy—Ginny couldn’t remember his name, Peter-something, she thought—as you jumped and danced around in time to the Weird Sisters. They were playing something wild and fast-paced. You were one person in a sea of moving bodies, and yet, you’d drawn Neville’s eyes like a beacon all night long.
Ginny didn’t want Neville to think she was jealous, because she truly wasn’t. But she was curious, and she made an effort to keep her voice careful when she asked, “Why didn’t you ask her to the ball?”
Still, Neville startled at her question, as if he’d forgotten about her presence at his side. He fumbled his cup of punch, a bit a sloshing over onto his hand.
“What? Who?” he asked. His voice had risen an octave.
Ginny said your name.
Neville looked away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re not a very good liar,” Ginny pointed out. When he didn’t respond, she rolled her eyes, though not unkindly. “She’s your friend. I thought you would’ve asked her to the ball. Why didn’t you?”
“You’re my friend, too,” Neville mumbled, avoiding the question. He plucked a napkin from a nearby table to wipe his hand. The two of them had stepped off to the side of the Great Hall, taking a short break from the party to finish their drinks.
Ginny gave him an unimpressed look. “You know what I mean, Longbottom.”
He didn’t answer. His mouth was set in a tight line.
“C’mon,” Ginny urged, though she kept her tone gentle, “you’re not very subtle. You only asked me to the ball after moping around the castle for three days when you found out she was going with that Durmstrang fellow, and you looked quite unhappy to be doing so.”
Neville’s cheeks flushed, eyes growing wide with alarm. “Ginny, that’s not— I’m sorry if I came across that way—”
She waved him off. “Calm down, I’m not offended. Genuinely. I just want to understand.”
He slumped a bit, then, heaving a big sigh as he seemed to finally give up on the pretense. “I suppose I was… scared. I-I’m not the most brave, you know,” he said, his voice meek and barely audible over the music.
Ginny frowned. “She would’ve said yes if you’d asked, surely.” Anyone could see how close you and Neville were.
“Yeah, because we’re friends. You said it yourself,” Neville huffed. Meanwhile, a round of applause rose up as the Weird Sisters finished their song. Harsh guitar riffs and heavy drums faded out into something much softer, slower.
“And you don’t want to be her friend,” Ginny concluded.
“Of course I want to be her friend. She’s the best one I’ve ever had.”
“You don’t want to only be her friend, then.”
“…No.” He paused, staring down into his punch. “She would never like me like that, though. It’s impossible. I’m not— I’m not good enough.”
“Neville,” Ginny said sadly. He shook his head.
“It’s fine,” he rushed to say, once again lying rather poorly. “We should really talk about something else, anyway. It’s not fair to you if I just spend the whole night whingeing about my own stupid prob—”
“Nev!”
Neville’s head snapped up at the sound of your voice. You were just ahead, alone, one hand hiking your dress up off the ground as you weaved through the dining tables towards him and Ginny, trying not to totter on your heels.
“Hey!” you greeted when you reached them, slightly sweaty, but wearing a big smile on your face. Some of your hair had fallen from its style, and you quickly tried to push it back into place. “Great party, isn’t it? How’re you two doing? Having a good time?”
“Of course. I’ve never seen the Great Hall look so gorgeous,” Ginny jumped to say, sensing that Neville still needed a moment to gather himself.
“Right? It’s amazing,” you said, looking up at the frosted walls of the Great Hall and the greenery hung across the ceiling. “Pyotr said that Durmstrang’s castle is nowhere near as beautiful as Hogwarts. Though they do have us beat when it comes to the scenery, apparently, being up in the mountains and all.”
Neville cleared his throat. He was still quite tense, but overall, mostly composed. “Where is he, by the way? Pyotr, I mean,” he asked, glancing over your shoulder.
“Oh, he just went off to the loo. And anyway, I told him you owed me dance,” you said with a sly grin. Then, glancing over at Ginny, “If that’s alright with both of you, of course.”
Ginny practically wrenched Neville’s drink out of his hand and shoved him into your arms.
“More than!” Ginny said brightly, urging her date forward. “Go on, Neville. I can entertain myself for a song or three.”
He looked back over his shoulder as you led him toward the crowd of slow dancing students, mouthing “Three?” at Ginny with a very, very red face. She only gave him a thumbs-up in response, watching as you and Neville found your spot on the dancefloor. He looked rather flustered when you stood close and placed his hand on your waist, but you seemed to relax into one another soon enough—chatting, smiling, moving gently with the music.
Ginny could see it plain as day: you and Neville just fit together, like the most natural thing in the world. There was no doubt in her mind that the two of you were inevitable. It warmed her heart just as much as it struck a pang of envy within her.
She took a sip of Neville’s punch, risking a glance towards Harry and her brother. They were still sat alone at the same table, heads bowed together as Ron prattled on about something or another. But Harry was only listening with half an ear, Ginny could tell, because his bitter gaze was firmly planted on Cho Chang, currently being twirled around the dancefloor by Cedric Diggory.
Ginny sighed and tried not to let it sting. Most boys were idiots, she’d decided. Especially when they were teenagers. She often wondered if and when they would ever be worth her time.
But if you’d been lucky enough to find one as good as Neville, Ginny couldn’t help but hope that maybe, eventually, she would too.