SMILE » n. longbottom

lxxvii

"ATTEMPT TO REGAIN"

Of course, the arrangement that had been arranged just within a few days, give or take, was how a certain Gryffindor and certain Hufflepuff would communicate. Especially considering that certain Hufflepuff's dire circumstances, that wouldn't ever be talked about.

The two had decided through indirect notes to a middle man, or rather Hermione Granger, that they would use a fake book that would only be of interest to them, Hermione had created a leather-bound book with a fake title, "The arithmetic of herbology," which made no sense as a book title, truly, but was just a mix of their two favorite subjects at Hogwarts.

Alana walked to the side of the bookcase, at this certain time, that had been decided, just after Advanced Potions, where they both miraculously had free-time, and the only time where the only person who would object to this arrangement did not, Jayden.

But it wasn't about him, this time was dedicated towards the two of them, Alana and Neville, for the time being. She set her things down, and sat down in the chair where had been assigned to her. Just like Hermione had indirectly told her, there was an opening in the bookcase, just a row below the surface of the table. Hermione slightly reached through it, and surprisingly, she was met with who she could only assume was Neville, just a hand holding up the book for her. She grabbed the book, and he let go.

In the inside, all of the books pages looked normal, but after flipping through a dozen or so pages, it all turned to blank ones. There was a word that had been written on the first blank page, just a simple, 'Hello.'

With a scribble of her pen, she wrote back, 'Hi, how have you been?' She carefully held the book open so the ink wouldn't smudge onto the next page, and passed it through the opening in the bookcase.

This quick exchange of the book repeated, and went like this:

Neville returned the book, with 'Fairly okay, Hermione explained everything.'

Then Alana,'She did?'

Then Neville, 'Yeah, I should've realized it sooner, but it all makes sense now.'

And so on. 'I've missed you.'

'I've missed you, too, especially since I didn't even speak to you in the summer.'

'I wish that didn't happen. Are you owls fine? There were feathers outside my house.'

'Yeah, my owl is fine, he returned with every letter.'

'That's good to hear.'

'We never talked about how I danced with Ginny. I'm sorry about that. I should've have figured that you would want to dance, but Ginny and I had decided to go together. If there was another time where we could dance, I would've liked to dance with you.'

'It's alright, Neville.' She scribbled down.

Before Alana could grab the book this time to see what Neville had wrote it response, it was his hand in the opening of the bookcase, which held hers for some seconds longer than they both had anticipated. Neville had written, 'It's not. I don't want to make you sad. I want to make you happy, make you smile.'

'You're sweet.' She wrote before an unsuspected tear fell straight off of her eyelid.

'I want to make it as if no bad thing has ever happened to you, like you were never affected by a sickness or the darkness of the world.'

'Thank you, Neville. I appreciate you, a lot, I hope you know that.'

'I know that. Before the topic of a ball to dance together with slowly disappears, there is one happening in association to the Slug Club, I've heard. You wouldn't happen to want to ...?'

'Well we can't physically dance together at that ball,' she had explained. She didn't know what he was getting at.

'I would've liked to.'

'Me too.'

'Anyways, is there actually anything happening between you and Jayden Brooks?'

'Of course, not. He's actually just a bodyguard my parents hired. And on the topic of my parents, the reason why I've been avoiding you - it was my life that has been threatened, and I'm assuming all of my friends and yours as well,' she finally scribbled down the words, in a rush, she didn't know if this plan to communicate was foolhardy or just reckless enough to actually work.

'I see.'

'It was good talking with you, even like this. Talk to you next time,' she joked on the page, she didn't know if they would actually talk, if this was the best that their communication would be, through words. She could not determine what would happen — if the dark forces that plagues her family would cave or destroy the good of the wizarding world — she was skeptical and hoped for the best, but things could be dire; she would not know for certain.

By the time she had packed all of her things, she noticed that Neville had written back, and so, she picked up the book again and read the final lines of words, 'I hope things turn out alright. I care for you.' And she returned it back on its shelf.