The door of the the greenhouse shut behind the last student with a clatter as it bounced against its frame. Neville listened as the chattering faded and died as everyone filed back to the castle to shower before lunch, then returned his eyes to the sketchbook on his knees.

"Longbottom? Aren't you going to lunch?"

Neville did not look up as he shaded the underside of a leaf. "I'm not really hungry, Professor. I thought I'd finish today's assignment here. It's quieter than the common room." He sneezed.

Professor Sprout smiled warmly. "Bless you. Dear, you're covered in pollen."

A vigorous shake of his head rained flecks of yellow from his hair which landed on the paper in small puffs like confectioner's sugar. "The Hawkeyed Magnolia got me again. Third time this month. It's sneaky, that one." He sneezed again.

"And it would appear that you're allergic." The professor's voice was amused. "Go get yourself cleaned up, dear. I'll leave the greenhouse unlocked for you if you want to come back after lunch."

Neville looked up. "Really? You'd do that?"

"Of course. You're always welcome here, Neville." Eyes twinkling, Professor Sprout clapped him on the shoulder. "Now clear out. And eat something."

Neville watched as she left through one of the back doors of the greenhouse, presumably toward her office. His nose itched and he rubbed it, but it did not ward off the sneeze, nor the two that immediately followed. Each sneeze expelled a small cloud of pollen from his hair and shoulders that drifted down around him like dust motes. Perhaps Professor Sprout was right. It would be a good idea to take a shower and change into some clean robes, if only to stop his sneezing.

Stretching, he stood up slowly, suppressing another sneeze that turned into a yawn. It was a lazy Friday in early spring, his only weekend homework was for Herbology and Defence Against the Dark Arts, and it was the first weekend in some time where it looked like they'd have some sunshine. It was almost warm enough to go without a robe and jumper entirely, if he wanted to risk being docked points for being out of uniform in the middle of a school day. Which he didn't. Now that he wasn't taking Potions, he'd gone nearly the whole school year without losing points, something he was quietly proud of.

Bag on his shoulder, Neville pushed open the greenhouse door and began to make his way down the path to the castle, eyes beginning to water and itch. Against his better judgement, he reached up to rub them as he turned a corner, which was probably why he ran headlong into someone coming the other way.

"Sorry!" he exclaimed, stumbling back several steps and throwing out an arm to balance himself. "I'm sorry, I -" His mind went suddenly blank as he recognised the other person. "Hannah? What are you doing here? I thought you'd left? Way back in September?" He shook his head to stop himself ending every sentence with a question and sneezed again.

"Bless you. Um, I did. Leave, I mean," Hannah Abbott replied, spots of colour rising on her cheeks. "I have an appointment with Professor Sprout. I'll be coming back next year and we need to discuss how I'm going to make up my coursework from this year."

"You're coming back next year?" Why was he repeating her? She'd just said that. "That's great. The greenhouses aren't the same without you." Maybe he should go back to repeating what she was saying. Clearly his brain had terrible ideas.

"Well then, you'll be seeing me a lot, because it's likely I'll be doing sixth year and seventh year classes at the same time." Hannah hitched her handbag higher onto her shoulder. "Bless you," she added as Neville sneezed again. "Do you have a cold?"

Oh, thank every god that was listening, he had a handkerchief. "No," he replied, wiping his nose in the most discreet way possible - which wasn't all that discreet but was infinitely better than using the sleeve of his robe. "I'm allergic to the Hawkeyed Magnolia, and it's taken a liking to me."

Hannah's face lit up in a way that made Neville's heart flutter. "Oooh, we have one of those?"

"Always have." He couldn't help but grin. "Used to be over closer to the forest, but it started getting depressed, so we moved it this last December."

"'We'?"

"Well, Professor Sprout," Neville amended. "But I helped. None of the rest of the NEWT class seemed all that interested." He did not add that the disinterest of his peers had likely been due to the transplant being scheduled for the afternoon of a Hogsmeade visit.

"Can..." Suddenly, Hannah seemed tremendously shy. "Can I see it? Would you show it to me, I mean?" She blushed straight to the roots of her hair. "Only I've never seen one outside a book, and the blossoms are supposed to be marvellous..."

Right, we're going to start wobbling now, said Neville's knees. "I - yeah! But - I mean, I don't want to make you late for your appointment."

"Oh, it's not for another half an hour. Is it far?" The wisp of blond hair that had escaped one of her braids was immensely distracting as it twisted in the wind; Neville had a hard time translating what she'd said into something that he could actually believe was happening.

She wanted to see the magnolia. That was easy to believe. She wanted him to take her. A little more difficult, but still within the realm of possibility. She wanted to spend half an hour with him - no, no, that was where all logic broke down and he had to start over again.

Fortunately, while his mind was having trouble coming to grips with the situation, his manners had taken matters into its own hands. "No, it's just behind the greenhouses," he found he'd said after a brief pause. "It won't take five minutes."

He did not offer her his arm. That was old-fashioned and outdated and he was fairly sure that if he tried he'd accidentally backhand her. He was amazed that he had enough dexterity to walk without tripping over his feet. But they were walking, he leading her to the back of the greenhouses where the tree had its new home.

He should be saying something. He didn't know what. "I'm sorry about your mother" almost left his mouth before he bit his tongue - that was definitely a bad choice. Or was it? Wasn't it good to show empathy? Would it make her remember that he knew what it was like, not having a parent? Or would it seem like he was harping on it? No, definitely better to say nothing at all.

"I'm glad you're coming back." What? Where the hell had that come from? He hadn't given himself permission to speak.

The sidelong look that Hannah shot him through her lashes was enough to make him forgive himself for speaking out of turn. "I am too. It's been dreadful - Dad's tried to convince me to enrol in a Muggle school, as though now that Mum's gone he can just ignore the Wizarding world..."

Shit. He'd steered the conversation exactly where he hadn't wanted it to go.

"...but I convinced him that everything I want to do is in this world, and that I'm almost of age according to our laws." She shifted her bag uncomfortably. "We had a bit of a row. He... well. I'm coming back to Hogwarts, that's what's important."

Despite his rapidly working mind, Neville couldn't come up with any proper response to that aside from repeating that he was glad she was returning, which he was, but it hardly seemed appropriate to reiterate it. Again, silence seemed like the smarter option.

"It'll be good to have you back. I've missed you."

Even from the side, Neville could see the flush that rose up Hannah's neck, and the very small detached portion of his mind that was not aghast in mortification at his unintended audacity noted that his own cheeks felt very warm.

"I've missed you too." The words were so soft that Neville almost didn't hear them through the ringing in his ears. "You're one of the biggest reasons I decided to come back."

The part of his brain that processed logic disintegrated. This was so far past impossible that they were in some sort of alternate reality. Yes, they'd studied together several times, but that was what the two top Herbology students did. They studied together. All right, no, he'd never studied with Hermione, but Hermione didn't so much study as devour entire textbooks whole, and studying with her wasn't fun. Studying with Hannah had been fun.

And yes, he'd caught her and held her steady when they'd been practicing Stunning spells last year in the DA, but anyone would have done that, really. He'd just been the closest. He had been the closest because he liked the way her hair smelled, but that was entirely beside the point. The point was that there was absolutely no reason for her to have said what she'd just said, and so he must have pollen in his ears.

He nearly giggled with relief when they came in sight of the tree. "There it is," he said, pointing. "The Hawkeyed Magnolia."

"It's beautiful," Hannah breathed, taking several steps forward. "And it's in bloom!"

"I'd noticed," Neville said wryly, eager for a new avenue of conversation. "As I said, it's taken a liking to me."

Glancing over her shoulder, Hannah raised an eyebrow. "How do you mean?"

"Let's stay back just a little bit," Neville suggested, stepping up next to her. "Not much closer than this. It's springtime, and it's trying to be pollinated and pollinate another tree in turn, but there's not another tree of its kind within days of here. Mundane trees, they don't notice, but of course this one's magical, so it notices and it's... frustrated..." he trailed off as he realised exactly what he was getting at, and the blush that had just started to die down stoked itself up again.

Hannah looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and amusement. "You mean... the tree's-"

"Yes. Yes it is. Lovely day, isn't it?"

"And it's taken a liking to you, you said?" She sounded positively delighted. Neville wondered if it were possible to die from blushing.

"I'm the only one who comes close enough for it to..." he brushed a dusting of pollen off his shoulder to make his point. Glancing up, he could see Hannah biting her lip. "Oh, go ahead and laugh. It's hilarious. Everything that happens to me is hilarious."

"That's not what -" Laughing helplessly, Hannah shook her head and took a step forward, reaching out to Neville's shoulder. He froze as she began to brush the yellow flecks from his robes. She was touching him. Of her own free will. Well, she was touching his robes, which counted, as he was currently wearing his robes. "It got you good. It's in your hair, too."

She was reaching up and brushing at his hair.

She had to go on her tiptoes to do it, and the touch was more... swift and purposeful than a caress, but it still made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, the sensation of a hand that wasn't his on his hair. Belatedly, he realised that she'd stepped very close in order to administer her tidying, and her eyes were very close to his, if currently focused intently on his fringe. He could count every single freckle spattered across her nose. He hadn't even noticed she had freckles until now.

And then, very suddenly, her eyes ceased the study of his fringe and met his own. She blinked in the tiniest of flinches, but she did not step back as her hand lowered back to his shoulder and she went back down from her tiptoes. She didn't remove her hand, just laid it there against his collarbone, and she swallowed. She did not look away.

The logic portion of his brain threw up its hands and gave it all up as a bad job, which made the next part remarkably easy to do. Neville took a shaky breath, leaned down, and closed his eyes. Just before his lashes met he could see Hannah closing her eyes and tilting her chin up, just slightly.

Softly, so softly, he brushed his lips against hers.

Immediately, he understood centuries of poetry and music. This, this was a force that men fought battles to be able to come home to, a surge of something beyond words that inspired paintings and sketches and sculptures to try and capture it.

Gently, hesitantly, he brought one arm around to the small of her back, resting it there so lightly he could hardly feel the fibres of her jumper. Hannah moved her lips against his, prompting a delicious ripple of gooseflesh down his back. So lost was he in the moment and the sensation of Hannah curling her fingers against his collarbone, pressing her lips more firmly to his, that he didn't notice the warning tickle in his nose until -

no, no, NO NO NO -

He sneezed.

Their teeth knocked painfully and Hannah jerked backwards reflexively, hand flying to her mouth. Neville could feel the blood draining from his face to somewhere in the vicinity of a metre below his feet, where his stomach felt like it was. In a kind world, the ground would open up and swallow him so he could join them.

He'd always wondered at the Latin root 'mort' in the word 'mortification'; now he understood. It meant to be so dreadfully embarrassed that you wished you could die.

"I... am so sorry," he forced out, his brain unable to think of anything even remotely adequate. He licked his lips, and his tongue caught on a ragged edge of one of his front teeth - oh bloody ten hells, he'd chipped a tooth. For lack of any notion of appropriate response to this situation, he brought his hands up to hide his face and turned his back, moaning.

It took a moment before he realised he was continually repeating "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" into his palms, eyes scrunched shut tight enough to make his head hurt. It took another moment before he sussed out that the pressure between his shoulder blades was not the strap of his bag, but Hannah's hand.

"It's okay," she was saying, but his brain refused to hear it and continued with the litany of apologies. And she was laughing. "Neville, it's really okay. Calm down, please?"

By very small measures, he did just that, finally bringing his hands down to swing limply at his sides. He did not open his eyes.

"I am such an idiot," he mumbled with conviction.

"You're not." Hannah had walked around him and was in front of him now; Neville jumped as she grabbed his hand. "You're not an idiot." There was a sound that could have been a nervous laugh. "Maybe the tree was jealous."

Neville scrunched his eyes shut even more tightly. He was fairly certain if he tried to Apparate just now, he'd be able to do it from sheer Determination. Or perhaps Desperation; that was closer to his particular emotional conviction right now.

Hannah was talking again; Neville opened one eye enough to look at her. "...meet with Professor Sprout now."

"Right. Yeah." He made a vague waving motion. "You do that. I'm going to go hide somewhere and die."

"When is your next Hogsmeade weekend?"

The question was unexpected enough that Neville opened both eyes in confusion. "Sorry?"

Hannah's smile was bashful. "I'm not technically a student, so I can't come find you after my appointment... but when is your next Hogsmeade weekend?"

Neville's mind raced as it tried to pull up his calendar. "Two Fridays from now? I think?"

Hannah went up on her tiptoes and kissed him softly on the cheek. "I'll let you make it up to me then. If... if you want." She turned a brilliant shade of red.

"You'll still have me? After that?" He must have heard incorrectly. He honestly didn't know why she wasn't running away screaming.

"That was the nicest thing I think I've ever done with anyone," she replied softly, her cheeks reddening further. "And..." she made a small, embarrassed sound. "And I think I'd like to..."

Neville nodded, and she stopped trying. It was beyond words. "Okay. I'll meet you in the Three Broomsticks?" His mouth was working of its own accord again.

Her smile was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. "It's a date."

The word reverberated off his skull. A date. He was going on a date. He almost didn't notice as she pecked him on the cheek once more before turning around to make her way toward Professor Sprout's office.

She looked over her shoulder as she got to the greenhouses, and he waved awkwardly.

And then sneezed.

She paused as she rounded the corner of one of the greenhouses. "Bless you," she called out, and then disappeared around the corner.