Convergence: Chapter Two
Convergence
Chapter Two: All That Undirected Energy
Hogwarts really was a very boring place, decided Ginny for the fifth time that evening. After her abysmal O.W.L. year, she’d dropped as many subjects as she could afford to and left herself with only the bare necessities, to lighten her workload. Last year, that had worked out quite well; she’d had so many better things to do than study. This year...
Three of her year-mates were sitting in the armchairs by the fire, chatting and giggling over their shared rune dictionary. Ginny glowered at them when she realized that she couldn’t quite remember their names. This was especially troubling since she was reasonably certain that the curly-haired girl slept in the bed next to hers. What made her most mad is that she had no right to glare at the three laughing students; it wasn’t their fault that almost all her friends had graduated last year. She turned instead to glare at her Charms essay, which insisted on being finished and proof-read, despite the fact that it wasn’t even nine.
With a feeling of futility, Ginny ran a hand raggedly through her hair. Then she shot up and scooped her books and parchment in both arms, stomping up the stairs to her dormitory. After stuffing the offending study material into her book-bag, she gathered her broom and headed right back out.
The deserted Quidditch pitch was barely visible beneath her as she flew the breadth of it at top speed. Feeling the chilly night wind rushing against her was at least some release for all that undirected energy. She looked forward to the season beginning again; this year, at least, her parents wouldn’t be able to protest that Quidditch took time away from more urgent pursuits. The team would be decidedly less fun, though. She tried to think of who she would choose to fill the empty positions of the team, but couldn’t think of anyone who hadn’t already left Hogwarts.
Luna might know, but that was no use, as Luna was renting a flat in London and working a part-time job. Well, Ginny wouldn’t need a decent education, either, if she were working for her father. Still, she wished Luna had stayed for their last year; she was her favorite classmate. Not that that was saying much. Landing hard on the dry, dusty pitch, Ginny hefted her broomstick over one shoulder and headed back to the castle. Maybe she’d manage to fall asleep before midnight, for a change.
***
On her second week back, Ginny got detention. She wasn’t really surprised, and doubted anyone else was, either. Having dropped Transfiguration, she was spared McGonagall’s disapproving looks over her glasses. Having to deal with Snape was quite enough for her, really. After supper she went up to the dormitory and rummaged in her trunk, hoping she’d had the sense to pack her dragon-skin gloves; there was no knowing what foul substances the Professor would make her handle.
Her trunk was even more messy than usual. When she finally found the gloves, she grabbed them and rushed out the door, skipping every other step and knocking over a second year near the portrait hole. She sprinted down the last corridor leading to Snape’s dungeon and yanked the door open, panting and praying that she wasn’t late. Snape and another person were standing next to his desk, and the Professor turned to regard her as his companion left.
“Just in the nick of time, Weasley,” said Snape in his horrible, oily voice.
“Yes - hff - sir,” she managed.
“Better leave earlier, next time. You wouldn’t want to be late, would you?”
“N-no, sir,” said Ginny, starting to catch her breath. She watched the third person leave out of the corner of her eye. Just as he was shutting the door behind him, she recognized Neville.
If she’d had the time, she might have wondered what Neville was doing in Hogwarts, and in Snape’s office of all places. Obviously, though, Snape wasn’t intending to let her catch her breath long enough to engage in idle speculation. He hovered and glared, looking so unbearably smug that half her concentration was spent on pretending she didn’t notice him. The rest kept busy scrubbing the jars in which slimy creatures had once floated in reeking fluids.
By the time she left the dungeons it was nearly midnight. Ginny wasn’t surprised at that. Nor was she terribly shocked to find out that the foul odors of her detention clung to her all the way to Gryffindor Tower. She rushed to the empty showers to clean off the stench, holding her hands a safe distance from her body. Going to sleep in her current state was certainly out of the question. When she climbed into bed she found that she was exhausted. Her mind spared only a moment’s thought to Neville’s mysterious presence at Hogwarts before she fell asleep.
***
Ginny woke at quarter to five, sitting bolt upright and sweating heavily. She’d forgotten something, and she had no idea what. Throwing off her quilt, she flung her torso off the far end of the bed and scrabbled inside her trunk, finally pulled out a spare bit of parchment and a crushed quill. Spreading the parchment flat on her mattress, she began retracing yesterday’s steps in writing.
Halfway through a list of everything she’d worn, down to her red and gold Gryffindor hair-tie and a pair of heavily darned, mismatched socks, she recalled what it was that she’d forgotten. She’d never figured out what Neville was doing in Snape’s office.
A part of her demanded that she put on her slippers, climb up to the Owlry and find out what’s going on right now. It wasn’t so much Neville himself that interested her as the sense that something important was happening, and she was finding out last. The other, seemingly more sensible part said that she was being ridiculous and should try to salvage some more sleep before she had to wake up for breakfast.
She considered both sides’ arguments as she burned her list over the candle on her bedside table. If it still seemed important at a more reasonable hour, she could always squeeze a trip to the Owlry at lunchtime. Who she would write to, anyway? Asking Snape was certainly out of the question, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to write Neville, either.
“Dear Neville, how have you been? I saw you at Hogwarts the other day and was wondering what on earth your were doing there. Didn’t you graduate already? Sincerely, Ginny.”
Ginny snorted. Maybe she’d get lucky and someone would just drop the information into her lap. She climbed back into the nest of her blanket. If she wrote to Ron, he might feel generous. Still, Neville and her brother weren’t on particularly close terms, as far as she knew. Whatever it was, she could deal with it when it was actually light outside.
***
Luck really was a fickle mistress. Her little mystery wasn’t enough to keep Ginny interested, so she’d given it up and gone back to haunting the grounds on her free lessons, or holing up in a corner of the library to finish all her N.E.W.T. coursework before the Quidditch season started. Until, that is, she’d been sent by Professor Sinistra to retrieve a constellation chart that Snape had borrowed.
This time, she was leaving just as Neville descended the old stone steps to the dungeon. Abandoning all pretense, Ginny propped her spare hand on her hip and glared up at him.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
Neville’s expression was unlike any she’d seen him wearing before. “Call that a hello, Ginny?” he said. “It’s nice to see you, too.”
Ginny snorted. “Absolutely spiffing, Longbottom. Didn’t you graduate last year?”
“I did,” replied Neville.
She waited. He didn’t say anything else. “Well?” she added irritably.
“Well, what?” asked Neville. “I don’t owe you anything. You’re just a friend of a friend, really.”
“What about all we’ve been through?” demanded Ginny.
“Last year?” he asked.
“And before,” she answered.
“What of it?” he shrugged. “It’s not enough for you to treat me civilly, is it? We’ve always been on good terms, Ginny. What happened to you?”
Ginny tapped her foot against the dull, soundless stone of the staircase. “Seriously?”
Neville shrugged again. “Tell me.”
“I’m bored,” said Ginny, and felt stupid as soon as the words escaped her mouth.
She was amazed, and a little insulted, when Neville laughed.
“This is your last morning lesson, right?” he asked.
Ginny nodded, trying to suppress a scowl.
“I have some business to attend to, but I’ll be done before lunch. Meet me by the lake when they let you out. We’ll talk.”
Without another word he turned and walked down the stairs to disappear within Snape’s office. Feeling uncertain about how she felt, all Ginny knew was that she had to get back to the astronomy tower before Sinistra noticed her extended absence. She tucked the star-chart under one arm and ran.
***
Neville was sitting near the shore of the lake when she got there. A shiny briefcase rested on the damp grass next to him, and beside it was a folded cloak.
“Here on business?” asked Ginny before he’d spotted her.
“Yeah,” said Neville. “I get to do all the errands because I’m the most junior employee. Delivering potion ingredients to Hogwarts just happens to be the one rewarding task that makes it all worth it.” He smiled crookedly.
Ginny plopped down on the ground beside him, not caring that she’d get grass stains all over her school robes.
“Still bored?” he asked.
“No evil to defeat, this year,” she replied.
Neville laughed. “At least you’re taking it with humor. Not like earlier.”
Ginny hesitated, but finally said, “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. It’s just... You know. I guess the tension’s been getting to me.”
“Taken too many courses this year?” he asked.
“Not by a long shot,” she answered with a snort. “I almost wish I had more. There’s nothing to do in the evenings, you know. Since you’ve been gone, that is.”
Neville’s expression turned strange again. “I assume that was a plural ‘you’,” he said, voice light.
“I just miss having people around that I actually know, and -“ Ginny stopped abruptly. “What was that supposed to mean?”
“No need to bristle,” said Neville, sitting back. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Ginny considered this. “What about Hermione?”
“What about her?” Neville asked back, his mouth quirking unpleasantly. “Trust me, Hermione’s got nothing to do with this. She’s got her own life, and so do Harry and Ron.”
“Rub it in a little harder, please,” said Ginny and her voice turned sour.
She looked up and Neville was looking her straight in the eye. “You’re really taking this hard, huh?”
She got up and started pacing. “I’m just bored!”
Neville sat farther back, his hands spread out on the grass to support him. He watched her as she paced until she tired and sat down again with a heavy sigh, crossing her legs underneath her robes. He leaned forward, apparently thinking she wanted to talk.
“So how’s work?” she asked the first thing that came to her mind.
“I feel young and inexperienced,” said Neville. “Everyone there knows at least twice as much Herbology as I do, including the secretary.”
Despite herself, she laughed.
That night, she fell asleep at quarter past ten.
***
Things became busy. Well, relatively speaking. Professor Flitwick threatened to give her a detention when her homework essays continued to be three times the length he had assigned. Quidditch practices began the day after Neville’s third visit. Hagrid took to inviting Ginny into the Forbidden Forest with him on his grounds-keeping duties, under the official pretext of extra credit for her Care of Magical Creatures N.E.W.T. Under duress, Ginny began writing weekly letters to her parents, one of Percy’s habits that Molly and Arthur had always wished their younger children would embrace.
Things became bearable. The hemlock clipping Neville gave her withered in a week. When she told him, Neville frowned and smiled and said he’d been silly, and his Gran always told him not to give people things he liked and they didn’t. Then he helped her with her Astronomy coursework and when he kissed her, right there under the heavy-shaded tree by the lake, she didn’t protest. Ginny knew she could do a lot worse than Neville Longbottom, all told.
An ancient, giggly part of herself wanted to grab a pack of Quandra’s thins and hijack a girlfriend to the girls’ toilets, sit in one of the stalls and gossip while passing a cigarette back and forth. She wasn’t even sure why; since Hermione had stopped speaking to her, she didn’t really share her social life with anyone. Writing to her parents about it was absolutely out of the question. For one thing, her mother would probably start pestering Neville about joining them for family dinners; she had a very firm idea of what her daughter was looking for in a man, which unfortunately aligned rather poorly with reality.
No, when it came down to it, Ginny knew she was mostly alone. It was better, anyway. People tended to do strange things with secrets that were told to them in confidence. Keeping it all to herself was safest, and the idea that no one knew but the two of them was oddly comforting.
That comfort evaporated on Halloween.
Ginny had spent Saturday morning in Quidditch practice and the hour after lunch putting finishing touches on her homework, all in anticipation of Neville's visit around three o'clock. When he arrived, finding her sitting in their usual spot underneath the tree, he did not sit down beside her. Instead, he offered her a hand. She took it, puzzled, and let him pull her to her feet.
Neville looked right and left, and she finally understood his point; it was the weekend, and the grounds teemed with younger students. Not unlike herself, Neville was very conscious of his privacy.
"Where should we go?" she asked.
Neville thought for a moment.
"Someplace inside the castle?" prompted Ginny. "It won't be this warm and sunny for long."
"Inside the castle will be crowded," he dismissed with a frown.
She propped her fists on her hips. "Where, then?"
Suddenly he smiled. "I have an idea." His smile widened and started pulling her by the hand. "Yes, I think it's a very good idea."
"Plan on sharing this brilliant idea with me any time soon?" asked Ginny crossly.
"Wait and see," he replied, and quickened his pace.
She didn't realize what he meant until the Whomping Willow came into view. "Wait..." she said.
"Did Ron tell you why that tree is there?" asked Neville, smiling an unfamiliar smile.
Ginny nodded slowly. "He said something about the Shrieking Shack... Do you know how to get past it?"
For a split second, Neville looked hurt. "Actually, I do," he said. "Wait here and don't come near it untill I call you."
He left her standing at a safe distance from the mauling tree and approached it slowly, hesitating now and then. When the willow's branches began showing suspicious signs of movement, he stumbled a quick step or two back and, eyes on the swaying branches, crouched close to the ground and groped around him. Ginny's puzzlement lessened almost not at all when he finally picked up a broken branch and, gripping it tightly, waved it in the direction of the Whomping Willow's trunk.
It seemed the branch didn't quite reach, because Neville started edging closer and closer to the tree, all the while waving his branch. The Whomping Willow began creaking alarmingly, and Ginny was on the verge of calling out to Neville that they should just climb up on one of the towers. Just then, though, the willow froze mysteriously.
"Come on!" called Neville, drawing nearer to the tree while still keeping his branch mostly steady.
Ginny raised an eyebrow, but walked up to him nontheless.
He pointed at an opening at the base of the trunk. "That's the way in. Go on, I'll join you in just a second."
She obliged, eyeing the tree. When she climbed down the hole she half-turned and called back, "Be careful, will you?"
"Trust me!" was his only response.
She generally considered it to be a bad sign when men said things like that. Her fingers were still crossed when Neville clambered down into the dark tunnel.
"What are we waiting for?" he asked breathlessly.
Ginny made a face and started walking swiftly down the tunnel, hoping Neville would have to rush to catch up.
Yet their hours in the quiet, derelict cottage more than made up. The quiet, dusty air seeped into her every pore, drowning out her loud and hectic school routine. For no reason she could think of she spoke in a whispery tone, and he responded in kind. It was calm in the dim light that filtered through the half-broken shutters, and every word and stroke they exchanged reflected the soft abandon of the house.
It was sudden when she asked. She didn't even know why she did; the question bubbled inside her and spilled right out before she'd so much as considered what his answer might be.
"Hmm?" said Neville.
Trying to be patient, Ginny repeated, "Have you told anyone?"
"Told anyone what?" asked Neville, looking confused.
"About -- us," said Ginny.
Neville shook his head slowly. "Are you angry?"
Ginny smiled. "Hardly. I kind of like it. It's better that they don't know, maybe. I mean, if you told Harry, he'd tell Ron, who'd tell mum..."
"Harry would never do that!" protested Neville.
Her smile turned crooked. "Come on, they're best mates! Harry tells Ron and Hermione everything."
Neville half-turned and looked at her, frowning. "Not things that are told to him in confidence," he insisted. "He's kept my faith well enough, I think."
Ginny looked back at him, and her stomach flipped oddly. "You did tell someone. You told Harry."
"No," said Neville, "but I might."
"I don't want my mum to find out!" said Ginny rather too loudly.
Neville's eyes narrowed. "Are you ashamed of me, Ginny?"
She didn't trust herself to say anything, so she waited him out. Neville could be counted on never to leave a silence unbroken.
It was the worst possible time for him to say such a thing. If he'd waited so much as fifteen minutes, for them to dress, for her to brush back her rumpled hair, to compose herself, maybe it would have been... tolerable.
"I should go," he said.
She frowned quizzically. "You're not working today, are you?"
"No," he said, "but there's a Halloween party tonight, and I promised I'd be there."
"Really? Who's throwing it?" she asked, ignoring that feeling in the pit of her stomach.
He lingered to answer, and that just made her sure that she was wrong to ask. "Hermione and Luna."
Previous || Next
Chapter Two: All That Undirected Energy
Hogwarts really was a very boring place, decided Ginny for the fifth time that evening. After her abysmal O.W.L. year, she’d dropped as many subjects as she could afford to and left herself with only the bare necessities, to lighten her workload. Last year, that had worked out quite well; she’d had so many better things to do than study. This year...
Three of her year-mates were sitting in the armchairs by the fire, chatting and giggling over their shared rune dictionary. Ginny glowered at them when she realized that she couldn’t quite remember their names. This was especially troubling since she was reasonably certain that the curly-haired girl slept in the bed next to hers. What made her most mad is that she had no right to glare at the three laughing students; it wasn’t their fault that almost all her friends had graduated last year. She turned instead to glare at her Charms essay, which insisted on being finished and proof-read, despite the fact that it wasn’t even nine.
With a feeling of futility, Ginny ran a hand raggedly through her hair. Then she shot up and scooped her books and parchment in both arms, stomping up the stairs to her dormitory. After stuffing the offending study material into her book-bag, she gathered her broom and headed right back out.
The deserted Quidditch pitch was barely visible beneath her as she flew the breadth of it at top speed. Feeling the chilly night wind rushing against her was at least some release for all that undirected energy. She looked forward to the season beginning again; this year, at least, her parents wouldn’t be able to protest that Quidditch took time away from more urgent pursuits. The team would be decidedly less fun, though. She tried to think of who she would choose to fill the empty positions of the team, but couldn’t think of anyone who hadn’t already left Hogwarts.
Luna might know, but that was no use, as Luna was renting a flat in London and working a part-time job. Well, Ginny wouldn’t need a decent education, either, if she were working for her father. Still, she wished Luna had stayed for their last year; she was her favorite classmate. Not that that was saying much. Landing hard on the dry, dusty pitch, Ginny hefted her broomstick over one shoulder and headed back to the castle. Maybe she’d manage to fall asleep before midnight, for a change.
***
On her second week back, Ginny got detention. She wasn’t really surprised, and doubted anyone else was, either. Having dropped Transfiguration, she was spared McGonagall’s disapproving looks over her glasses. Having to deal with Snape was quite enough for her, really. After supper she went up to the dormitory and rummaged in her trunk, hoping she’d had the sense to pack her dragon-skin gloves; there was no knowing what foul substances the Professor would make her handle.
Her trunk was even more messy than usual. When she finally found the gloves, she grabbed them and rushed out the door, skipping every other step and knocking over a second year near the portrait hole. She sprinted down the last corridor leading to Snape’s dungeon and yanked the door open, panting and praying that she wasn’t late. Snape and another person were standing next to his desk, and the Professor turned to regard her as his companion left.
“Just in the nick of time, Weasley,” said Snape in his horrible, oily voice.
“Yes - hff - sir,” she managed.
“Better leave earlier, next time. You wouldn’t want to be late, would you?”
“N-no, sir,” said Ginny, starting to catch her breath. She watched the third person leave out of the corner of her eye. Just as he was shutting the door behind him, she recognized Neville.
If she’d had the time, she might have wondered what Neville was doing in Hogwarts, and in Snape’s office of all places. Obviously, though, Snape wasn’t intending to let her catch her breath long enough to engage in idle speculation. He hovered and glared, looking so unbearably smug that half her concentration was spent on pretending she didn’t notice him. The rest kept busy scrubbing the jars in which slimy creatures had once floated in reeking fluids.
By the time she left the dungeons it was nearly midnight. Ginny wasn’t surprised at that. Nor was she terribly shocked to find out that the foul odors of her detention clung to her all the way to Gryffindor Tower. She rushed to the empty showers to clean off the stench, holding her hands a safe distance from her body. Going to sleep in her current state was certainly out of the question. When she climbed into bed she found that she was exhausted. Her mind spared only a moment’s thought to Neville’s mysterious presence at Hogwarts before she fell asleep.
***
Ginny woke at quarter to five, sitting bolt upright and sweating heavily. She’d forgotten something, and she had no idea what. Throwing off her quilt, she flung her torso off the far end of the bed and scrabbled inside her trunk, finally pulled out a spare bit of parchment and a crushed quill. Spreading the parchment flat on her mattress, she began retracing yesterday’s steps in writing.
Halfway through a list of everything she’d worn, down to her red and gold Gryffindor hair-tie and a pair of heavily darned, mismatched socks, she recalled what it was that she’d forgotten. She’d never figured out what Neville was doing in Snape’s office.
A part of her demanded that she put on her slippers, climb up to the Owlry and find out what’s going on right now. It wasn’t so much Neville himself that interested her as the sense that something important was happening, and she was finding out last. The other, seemingly more sensible part said that she was being ridiculous and should try to salvage some more sleep before she had to wake up for breakfast.
She considered both sides’ arguments as she burned her list over the candle on her bedside table. If it still seemed important at a more reasonable hour, she could always squeeze a trip to the Owlry at lunchtime. Who she would write to, anyway? Asking Snape was certainly out of the question, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to write Neville, either.
“Dear Neville, how have you been? I saw you at Hogwarts the other day and was wondering what on earth your were doing there. Didn’t you graduate already? Sincerely, Ginny.”
Ginny snorted. Maybe she’d get lucky and someone would just drop the information into her lap. She climbed back into the nest of her blanket. If she wrote to Ron, he might feel generous. Still, Neville and her brother weren’t on particularly close terms, as far as she knew. Whatever it was, she could deal with it when it was actually light outside.
***
Luck really was a fickle mistress. Her little mystery wasn’t enough to keep Ginny interested, so she’d given it up and gone back to haunting the grounds on her free lessons, or holing up in a corner of the library to finish all her N.E.W.T. coursework before the Quidditch season started. Until, that is, she’d been sent by Professor Sinistra to retrieve a constellation chart that Snape had borrowed.
This time, she was leaving just as Neville descended the old stone steps to the dungeon. Abandoning all pretense, Ginny propped her spare hand on her hip and glared up at him.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
Neville’s expression was unlike any she’d seen him wearing before. “Call that a hello, Ginny?” he said. “It’s nice to see you, too.”
Ginny snorted. “Absolutely spiffing, Longbottom. Didn’t you graduate last year?”
“I did,” replied Neville.
She waited. He didn’t say anything else. “Well?” she added irritably.
“Well, what?” asked Neville. “I don’t owe you anything. You’re just a friend of a friend, really.”
“What about all we’ve been through?” demanded Ginny.
“Last year?” he asked.
“And before,” she answered.
“What of it?” he shrugged. “It’s not enough for you to treat me civilly, is it? We’ve always been on good terms, Ginny. What happened to you?”
Ginny tapped her foot against the dull, soundless stone of the staircase. “Seriously?”
Neville shrugged again. “Tell me.”
“I’m bored,” said Ginny, and felt stupid as soon as the words escaped her mouth.
She was amazed, and a little insulted, when Neville laughed.
“This is your last morning lesson, right?” he asked.
Ginny nodded, trying to suppress a scowl.
“I have some business to attend to, but I’ll be done before lunch. Meet me by the lake when they let you out. We’ll talk.”
Without another word he turned and walked down the stairs to disappear within Snape’s office. Feeling uncertain about how she felt, all Ginny knew was that she had to get back to the astronomy tower before Sinistra noticed her extended absence. She tucked the star-chart under one arm and ran.
***
Neville was sitting near the shore of the lake when she got there. A shiny briefcase rested on the damp grass next to him, and beside it was a folded cloak.
“Here on business?” asked Ginny before he’d spotted her.
“Yeah,” said Neville. “I get to do all the errands because I’m the most junior employee. Delivering potion ingredients to Hogwarts just happens to be the one rewarding task that makes it all worth it.” He smiled crookedly.
Ginny plopped down on the ground beside him, not caring that she’d get grass stains all over her school robes.
“Still bored?” he asked.
“No evil to defeat, this year,” she replied.
Neville laughed. “At least you’re taking it with humor. Not like earlier.”
Ginny hesitated, but finally said, “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. It’s just... You know. I guess the tension’s been getting to me.”
“Taken too many courses this year?” he asked.
“Not by a long shot,” she answered with a snort. “I almost wish I had more. There’s nothing to do in the evenings, you know. Since you’ve been gone, that is.”
Neville’s expression turned strange again. “I assume that was a plural ‘you’,” he said, voice light.
“I just miss having people around that I actually know, and -“ Ginny stopped abruptly. “What was that supposed to mean?”
“No need to bristle,” said Neville, sitting back. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Ginny considered this. “What about Hermione?”
“What about her?” Neville asked back, his mouth quirking unpleasantly. “Trust me, Hermione’s got nothing to do with this. She’s got her own life, and so do Harry and Ron.”
“Rub it in a little harder, please,” said Ginny and her voice turned sour.
She looked up and Neville was looking her straight in the eye. “You’re really taking this hard, huh?”
She got up and started pacing. “I’m just bored!”
Neville sat farther back, his hands spread out on the grass to support him. He watched her as she paced until she tired and sat down again with a heavy sigh, crossing her legs underneath her robes. He leaned forward, apparently thinking she wanted to talk.
“So how’s work?” she asked the first thing that came to her mind.
“I feel young and inexperienced,” said Neville. “Everyone there knows at least twice as much Herbology as I do, including the secretary.”
Despite herself, she laughed.
That night, she fell asleep at quarter past ten.
***
Things became busy. Well, relatively speaking. Professor Flitwick threatened to give her a detention when her homework essays continued to be three times the length he had assigned. Quidditch practices began the day after Neville’s third visit. Hagrid took to inviting Ginny into the Forbidden Forest with him on his grounds-keeping duties, under the official pretext of extra credit for her Care of Magical Creatures N.E.W.T. Under duress, Ginny began writing weekly letters to her parents, one of Percy’s habits that Molly and Arthur had always wished their younger children would embrace.
Things became bearable. The hemlock clipping Neville gave her withered in a week. When she told him, Neville frowned and smiled and said he’d been silly, and his Gran always told him not to give people things he liked and they didn’t. Then he helped her with her Astronomy coursework and when he kissed her, right there under the heavy-shaded tree by the lake, she didn’t protest. Ginny knew she could do a lot worse than Neville Longbottom, all told.
An ancient, giggly part of herself wanted to grab a pack of Quandra’s thins and hijack a girlfriend to the girls’ toilets, sit in one of the stalls and gossip while passing a cigarette back and forth. She wasn’t even sure why; since Hermione had stopped speaking to her, she didn’t really share her social life with anyone. Writing to her parents about it was absolutely out of the question. For one thing, her mother would probably start pestering Neville about joining them for family dinners; she had a very firm idea of what her daughter was looking for in a man, which unfortunately aligned rather poorly with reality.
No, when it came down to it, Ginny knew she was mostly alone. It was better, anyway. People tended to do strange things with secrets that were told to them in confidence. Keeping it all to herself was safest, and the idea that no one knew but the two of them was oddly comforting.
That comfort evaporated on Halloween.
Ginny had spent Saturday morning in Quidditch practice and the hour after lunch putting finishing touches on her homework, all in anticipation of Neville's visit around three o'clock. When he arrived, finding her sitting in their usual spot underneath the tree, he did not sit down beside her. Instead, he offered her a hand. She took it, puzzled, and let him pull her to her feet.
Neville looked right and left, and she finally understood his point; it was the weekend, and the grounds teemed with younger students. Not unlike herself, Neville was very conscious of his privacy.
"Where should we go?" she asked.
Neville thought for a moment.
"Someplace inside the castle?" prompted Ginny. "It won't be this warm and sunny for long."
"Inside the castle will be crowded," he dismissed with a frown.
She propped her fists on her hips. "Where, then?"
Suddenly he smiled. "I have an idea." His smile widened and started pulling her by the hand. "Yes, I think it's a very good idea."
"Plan on sharing this brilliant idea with me any time soon?" asked Ginny crossly.
"Wait and see," he replied, and quickened his pace.
She didn't realize what he meant until the Whomping Willow came into view. "Wait..." she said.
"Did Ron tell you why that tree is there?" asked Neville, smiling an unfamiliar smile.
Ginny nodded slowly. "He said something about the Shrieking Shack... Do you know how to get past it?"
For a split second, Neville looked hurt. "Actually, I do," he said. "Wait here and don't come near it untill I call you."
He left her standing at a safe distance from the mauling tree and approached it slowly, hesitating now and then. When the willow's branches began showing suspicious signs of movement, he stumbled a quick step or two back and, eyes on the swaying branches, crouched close to the ground and groped around him. Ginny's puzzlement lessened almost not at all when he finally picked up a broken branch and, gripping it tightly, waved it in the direction of the Whomping Willow's trunk.
It seemed the branch didn't quite reach, because Neville started edging closer and closer to the tree, all the while waving his branch. The Whomping Willow began creaking alarmingly, and Ginny was on the verge of calling out to Neville that they should just climb up on one of the towers. Just then, though, the willow froze mysteriously.
"Come on!" called Neville, drawing nearer to the tree while still keeping his branch mostly steady.
Ginny raised an eyebrow, but walked up to him nontheless.
He pointed at an opening at the base of the trunk. "That's the way in. Go on, I'll join you in just a second."
She obliged, eyeing the tree. When she climbed down the hole she half-turned and called back, "Be careful, will you?"
"Trust me!" was his only response.
She generally considered it to be a bad sign when men said things like that. Her fingers were still crossed when Neville clambered down into the dark tunnel.
"What are we waiting for?" he asked breathlessly.
Ginny made a face and started walking swiftly down the tunnel, hoping Neville would have to rush to catch up.
Yet their hours in the quiet, derelict cottage more than made up. The quiet, dusty air seeped into her every pore, drowning out her loud and hectic school routine. For no reason she could think of she spoke in a whispery tone, and he responded in kind. It was calm in the dim light that filtered through the half-broken shutters, and every word and stroke they exchanged reflected the soft abandon of the house.
It was sudden when she asked. She didn't even know why she did; the question bubbled inside her and spilled right out before she'd so much as considered what his answer might be.
"Hmm?" said Neville.
Trying to be patient, Ginny repeated, "Have you told anyone?"
"Told anyone what?" asked Neville, looking confused.
"About -- us," said Ginny.
Neville shook his head slowly. "Are you angry?"
Ginny smiled. "Hardly. I kind of like it. It's better that they don't know, maybe. I mean, if you told Harry, he'd tell Ron, who'd tell mum..."
"Harry would never do that!" protested Neville.
Her smile turned crooked. "Come on, they're best mates! Harry tells Ron and Hermione everything."
Neville half-turned and looked at her, frowning. "Not things that are told to him in confidence," he insisted. "He's kept my faith well enough, I think."
Ginny looked back at him, and her stomach flipped oddly. "You did tell someone. You told Harry."
"No," said Neville, "but I might."
"I don't want my mum to find out!" said Ginny rather too loudly.
Neville's eyes narrowed. "Are you ashamed of me, Ginny?"
She didn't trust herself to say anything, so she waited him out. Neville could be counted on never to leave a silence unbroken.
It was the worst possible time for him to say such a thing. If he'd waited so much as fifteen minutes, for them to dress, for her to brush back her rumpled hair, to compose herself, maybe it would have been... tolerable.
"I should go," he said.
She frowned quizzically. "You're not working today, are you?"
"No," he said, "but there's a Halloween party tonight, and I promised I'd be there."
"Really? Who's throwing it?" she asked, ignoring that feeling in the pit of her stomach.
He lingered to answer, and that just made her sure that she was wrong to ask. "Hermione and Luna."
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