Second Best

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At the time, taking Ginny to the Yule Ball was settling for second best.

Back then, I liked Hermione. She and Ginny were the only girls who paid attention to me. Well, no, that's not quite true - other girls paid enough attention to me to mock me when I screwed something up, as usual. Hermione and Ginny were the only ones who were kind.

Well, Ginny had always fancied Harry. Everyone knew that. So, somehow I'd ended up fancying Hermione. She defended me in front of Snape, and tried to help me not make such a mess of things, and that made me indebted to her. Really, it didn't matter who I liked, anyway. No girl would have ever liked me back, and I knew it.

Because of all that, Hermione ended up being the first girl that I asked to the Yule Ball. Unfortunately for me, I wasn't the first boy who asked her.

Ginny was the obvious second choice.

To tell the truth, I would have just given up on the Ball after Hermione's refusal if it hadn't been for my stubborn streak. I was determined that for at least that night, I wasn't going to be poor little Neville, alone yet again. I guess I really was put in Gryffindor for a reason, because I did it. And she said yes. All I expected was a reasonably nice time.

The last thing I expected was to fall for her.

It just...happened! One moment, we were out there, twirling around and laughing, just like everyone else - well, sort of like everyone else, considering that half the time she was watching Harry watch Cho - and the next, my stomach was filled with butterflies the size of England and my heart was doing acrobatics.

Sounds awfully cliched, doesn't it? Apparently, some cliches are cliches for a reason.

I was on top of the world for a while there, until I went to get her a drink. When I came back, she was talking animatedly with a boy I didn't know. She introduced him to me as Michael Corner. The next thing I knew, he was asking her to dance, and she accepted. Only after that, she suddenly remembered I existed, and she cast me a quick, "Oh, Neville, you don't mind, do you?" I told her that of course, I didn't.

I didn't realize it at the time, but watching Ginny dance with someone else was going to become a bit of an unwanted habit for me.

After that, I was silent about my feelings for years. Apparently I used up all my Gryffindor courage on asking her to the Yule Ball. So, I sat quietly and watched her and Michael Corner. I watched their relationship crescendo and then fall to pieces over something trivial.

But I had no moment of peace. As soon as Corner was out, Dean stepped up. That was even harder to deal with. Dean wasn't just some Ravenclaw, Dean was in my house, in my year, in my dormitory. I didn't just have to watch him, I had to listen to him, too. So I listened to him, rambling on to Seamus about how amazing she was while casting wary glances at Ron.

Then, one day, I saw the look in Harry's eyes when he heard Dean start up about her; it was the look I'd wanted to give him so many times and never had. And it was then that I knew it was only a matter of time.

Harry was everything that I was not. I'm sure he never wondered why he was Sorted into Gryffindor. He certainly wasn't secretive about his feelings, anyway. Or perhaps it was only so obvious to me because I understood what he felt. In any case, she loved him. Perhaps she always had. Sooner or later, something would happen, and they'd live happily ever after.

It was sooner, or at least it felt like it to me. The year went by all too soon, and before I knew it, there they were, right in front of me - Merlin, in front of the whole bloody house - snogging like there was no tomorrow.

I got out of there as soon as I could. I assumed that no one would notice if I was gone, and I was right. No one ever said a word.

The next few weeks seemed to drag on forever. I was happy for her, in a way, I really was. I was glad that she found what she'd wanted all along. She looked the happiest I'd seen her in years, and Merlin knows that after waiting for him as long as she did, she deserved it. I told myself that if it hadn't been Harry it would have been someone else, anyway.

Then Dumbledore died, and the Wizarding world was never the same after that.

They broke up at the funeral. It gave me no sense of false hope - it was a formality. He didn't cancel their happy ending, he just postponed it; they knew that, as did everyone else. I might be a bit of an idiot, but I'm no fool. Not when it comes to her.

Even though it was temporary, the break up still broke her spirit. I saw her at her brother's wedding that summer. She should have glowed, with that dress and the sun shining off her hair - but she didn't. All she looked was tired. The fire in her eyes was nowhere to be seen.

Harry and Ginny watched each other, silently. Her eyes dared him to crack, his eyes told her it was useless. Neither spoke. They were to strong for that.

Despite all of that, I paid little attention to the actual wedding. Not even to the bride, whose beauty, I'm now told, could have competed with Helen of Troy. For all I know, they aren't exaggerating. All I watched was Ginny, as broken as she looked.

The next year dragged on for what could have been a century. The only shreds of hope were the few letters I exchanged with Ginny - letters in which we couldn't say much, in case the Death Eaters intercepted the owls. It was just enough to assure her that I was fine, and for her to assure me that her family was fine.

She lost Charlie that year. They don't speak of how he died, but it involved being captured and interrogated by Death Eaters for information. He never did crack.

There was no funeral for him. They couldn't risk it - all those Order members in one place would be like sitting ducks for the Death Eaters. He was buried quietly, with only the immediate family that could manage to come present. She wrote me about it later and told me that Harry, Ron, and Hermione hadn't been able to come because it was so risky. I didn't need to hear the pain in her voice to know what this war was doing to her. It was killing us all - some quickly and literally, like Charlie, and the rest of us slowly, from the inside out.

Then, one morning, Gran woke me up. There were tears in her eyes. I panicked, I thought something was wrong - then she spoke. It was over - Voldemort was dead, as was Harry. The Light side had won.

Ginny didn't cry at his funeral. She just sat there, straight and stiff, her eyes underscored by purple half-moons as if she hadn't slept in a long time. Ron and Hermione both spoke, but she refused.

It wasn't until after the funeral, under a large beech tree, that she clung to me and sobbed like she'd never stop. As she cried, I silently cursed Harry for being such a bloody brave Gryffindor, marching off to battle and never coming back. He put her through hell and then didn't even have the decency to come back. Merlin, I knew I was being unfair, in some corner of my brain - but I didn't care. He was dead and it was killing her, too. That's all I could see.

After that, Ginny slowly returned to a facsimile of the life she'd once had. Eventually, she was able to smile and laugh again - but the fire in her eyes never did return. She never stopped loving him, and I never expected her to.

It was years later that I asked her to marry me. She accepted.

Our marriage has been built on solid friendship, nothing more. She needs someone beside her, and I dutifully fill that role. I get to be near her and love her freely - and that's all I've ever wanted, really.

I know she still loves him, not me. Neither one of us has ever said it, and I doubt we ever will, but I'm still no fool when it comes to her. I know.

If there is a life after this one, she will be with him there, not me. That's the way it was meant to be, and after all these years I know I cannot fight it. It's not her fault, or mine, not even his, though sometimes I'd like to blame him. She's just a girl who fell in love with the boy who saved the world, and after all, I've always been second best.

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A/N: Reviews are, as always, appreciated.