Queen

There were daisies in her hair the day he realised he was in love with Hannah Abbott. She'd plaited them into a small crown, and placed it, laughing, on her head.

'Do I look like a princess?' she asked him, mockingly.

'Like a queen', he replied, smiling even though he was completely serious.

Nobody made him feel the way Hannah did. Every time he saw her, his heart seemed to beat faster, as if it were dancing to a different tune. He tried to keep it under control. Each time they met for coffee, or went to a Quidditch match together, he swore it would be the last time. You couldn't live a fantasy.

'How do you feel today?' she asked, stretching her legs out on the picnic rug.

'Whimsical', he replied.

It was a game they played, saying the first word that came into their head. He'd been saving whimsical for a day like today. He liked the way it rolled off the tongue, with that little ring at the end.

'And you?'

'Wistful', she said, frowning a little.

'Wistful for what?'

'This', she said. 'I wish we could have days like this every day.'

He knew what she meant. Today was Sunday. Tomorrow he was leaving for Germany, to work with some researchers on the origins of the Naffler plant, and he didn't know how long it would be before he saw her again. But he didn't think she meant it quite like that.

She turned her head to gaze at him for a moment, and she had an impetuous look in her eyes. He raised an eyebrow. He was never quite sure what to expect when she looked at him like that.

'Sing for me', she said.

'What?'

'Sing for me.'

He shook his head. He wasn't a singing person.

'Please?' she asked.

'Why?'

'I want to know what you sound like when you sing.'

'Why?'

'I just do.'

He sighed. He couldn't be stubborn with Hannah.

'What do you want me to sing?'

She smiled mischievously, knowing she'd won.

'The first song that comes into your head.'

He took a deep breath.

'Lavender's blue, dilly dilly', he began, watching her closely. She didn't look at him, but gazed into the distance.

'Rosemary's green.

'When I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be queen.

'Who told you so? Dilly dilly, who told you so?

'My own heart, dilly dilly, told me so.'

It had been a long time since he'd sung it. When he was very little, his grandmother had sung him to sleep with it. One day, he'd discovered her crying in the kitchen, a plate shattered on the ground before her. He hadn't been sure what to do, being only about five, and he'd sung it to her then. But it had just made her cry harder.

'You have a nice voice when you sing', said Hannah thoughtfully. 'Not very strong, but nice all the same.'

He wasn't sure whether to be flattered or not.

'Your turn', he said, and he wondered if he had an impetuous look in his eyes.

'Oh no', said Hannah, 'I don't sing. According to my uncle I sound like a Hippogriff giving birth.'

She laughed, and he laughed too. It was one of the things he liked about Hannah. She wasn't afraid to laugh. And when she did, it wasn't a silly little giggle like most girls used, but a loud, bellowing laugh, like a guffaw. Gradually she faded into a chuckle, and then stopped altogether.

She reached into the picnic basket beside her, and handed him a chocolate chip biscuit. Her favourite. He took it, nibbling slowly around the edges.

'If you could apparate anywhere in the world right now, where would you go?' he asked, feeling it was his turn to ask a question.

'I'd stay here', she said immediately, her mouth full of biscuit.

He wasn't sure what she meant by that. It seemed almost too good to be true. Better not to think about it all, and just enjoy the moment.

'I'd stay here with you', she said, a gravity in her words that was rather unlike her. But he didn't notice that. He felt as if he'd just been run over by a motorbike. His heart seemed to stop, and then it started again, faster than ever before. He didn't know what to say. There was no reply to that.

'Another biscuit?' she asked.

He shook his head. Didn't she realise what was happening to his heart? If he wasn't careful, it would reach its limit and burst out of his chest. He hugged his legs to his stomach, suddenly aware of how very close she was to him.

'Cold?' she asked.

'No', he said. 'I could stand in the middle of a snowstorm and not be cold', he added with bravado, trying to regain the previous lightness of the conversation. She smiled, but they both knew something had changed.

'Hannah -'

He wasn't sure what he was going to say initially, but all of a sudden he knew what should follow. I love you. He loved her. He loved her. How had he not known that before? How had he not recognised the dancing of his heart as love? He really was as stupid as some people thought.

'Yes, Neville?' she asked, and the daisy crown slipped forward over her eyes.

'Nothing', he said. But he smiled as he said it.