Someone was already in the Room of Requirement, which was probably just as well, as Ginny had no idea how she had ended up there, or why. Downstairs Harry was safe at last, and her family was reunited, except for Fred, who was cold... she shivered.

"Come in, Ginny," said Luna's unmistakeable tones.

"You know you really sound much more like a Seer than Professor Trelawney," Ginny remarked as she sat down beside Luna on the cosy couch in front of the fire.

Luna ignored the comment, handing her a toasting fork and a crumpet. "My father and I used to toast crumpets after each edition of the Quibbler was put to bed," she said. It wasn't a Weasley tradition but Ginny could see its appropriateness. She toasted the crumpet and then lavished it with butter and honey in imitation of her friend. The sweetness was overwhelming, but inside she started to feel a little warm again.

Neville joined them next. Ginny budged over to give him some room and handed him her toasting fork. He cocked his head enquiringly at her.

"Luna's family toasts crumpets after finishing a Quibbler edition.

"All right." His face was solemn in the firelight as he toasted the crumpet carefully.

The fire crackled, and Ginny's thoughts drifted as she leaned back into the sofa between her friends.

Something came to mind. "Congratulations, Neville."

He looked at her blankly, saying dubiously "It was your mother who killed her."

She realised that he was thinking of Bellatrix.

"I meant the snake."

"Oh, that. I was insane." His voice was flat. He leaned forward, twisting the toasting fork in his hands and the crumpet slipped off the end, unnoticed. "The last thing Harry said to me before he... died... was to kill the snake. So I did."

Ginny nodded.

Luna licked honey off her fingers. "Har ry's like that, isn't he? I mean, if Seamus Finnigan told you to kill a snake you'd ask why..."

Neville couldn't help but smile. It was a little twisted but still a smile. "..but when it's Harry, you kill the snake. Yeah. He's like that."

The fire was soothing, and Ginny must have drifted off to sleep, because when she awoke she had her head on Neville's shoulder. Luna was gone, and Neville was snoring, just a little.

Ginny poked the fire up a bit and looked at Neville. She must have woken him up by moving away, because his eyes were open and looking at her.

"Luna went home," he said, not stirring. "She was worried about her father."

Ginny thought about her family downstairs, but she really didn't feel like being their little girl tonight. Ron had gone off with Harry, in any case, and she thought her family would assume she was with them. She would have thought she would have wanted to be with them, too, but she didn't. She was quite happy here, with Neville - except that suddenly she started to cry.

Fred... and Colin Creevey... and Lupin and Tonks... that horrible moment with Hagrid keening over Harry's body while Voldemort gloated. There was a boy - she didn't even know who it was - who had burst into flames as she watched and a roan centaur who had been sliced in two. A wail burst from her, not a decent sound at all, but a scream of anguish that felt like it was tearing her throat out, and she was beating her fists against the floor and wailing and nothing... nothing... could ease or lessen the pain that was tearing her apart.

Neville didn't try to restrain her, but when the tempest finally drained away and she sank to the floor in exhaustion, still sobbing, he knelt down facing her, gently sweeping her hair from her mouth with one warm finger and handing her a handkerchief. The incongruity of the monogrammed handkerchief drew a shuddering gasp from her, and after a moment she began to wipe the mess from her face, her heart rate steadying.

Neville had tears running unnoticed down his cheeks. "That was how I felt when I killed the snake," he said. His bright eyes were fixed on her face, and his handkerchief was a sodden wreck, so she pulled up the hem of her t-shirt to wipe away his tears. For a moment, his eyes widened, and then he smiled a little oddly and leaned forward to make it easier for her to wipe his face.

"Feel any better?" he asked. She nodded, and he stood up and offered her a hand. She shook her head and scrambled to her feet independently, although she felt a little dizzy. Neville put a steadying arm around her and drew her back onto the couch. She leaned into him, smelling the smoke from the fire, and something acrid which she couldn't identify. It wasn't a pleasant smell, but she leaned in closer anyway. Good old Neville.

"Sorry for freaking out on you like that." she said awkwardly.

Neville just shook his head. "Actually it looked rather satisfying," he admitted. "Guys aren't allowed to freak out like that after a battle. Apparently we're supposed to rape and pillage instead."

"Er. Neville?"

He looked guiltily mischievous. "Just something Romilda Vane said."

"Romilda Vane suggested that you rape and pillage?"

"Well she was offering, so it wouldn't technically have been rape, would it?"

Ginny felt as if she couldn't breathe.

"I didn't take her up on it!" Neville looked apologetic.

She swallowed hard, moving away from him. "Why not?"

He looked at her incredulously. "Romilda Vane? She's never looked twice at me! Last year she wouldn't have known my name if I didn't share a dorm with Harry Potter!"

"Didn't stop her offering you a fuck, evidently."

Neville looked as if he had been slapped, but his face firmed as he retorted, "She wasn't the only one to subscribe to the 'rape and pillage' theory, you know. I got several offers, but I'm not like that."

Tears sprang to her eyes. "I know you're not, Neville," she whispered. "I'm sorry I said that."

He leaned forward, looking puzzled. "Are you worried about Harry? He wouldn't, either, you know."

"I know." She sighed. "Not really my business if he did, anyway."

"I thought..."

"Yeah well. He's not here, is he? He didn't write, and he didn't kiss me when he got back. I guess he's not interested."

"I'm sorry."

"More fool me, I guess."

He looked at her with an expression which, all of a sudden, she knew how to interpret. Her eyes went wide, and he flushed and looked away, confirming her guess.

"Neville?"

He stood up and went over to poke the fire up a bit, face hidden in the shadows. "It'll all die down again soon enough. I don't expect Romilda Vane and her friends will even remember my name on Monday. Everything will be back to normal, and Harry will..."

"Neville!"

He stilled, then choked out, "Sorry!" and leaned his head against the hearth. She heard him trying to control his breathing, and then he said in a more normal tone of voice, standing up. "I think I might just go and have something to eat. I'll see you later."

She leaned forward, hand outstretched, but he dodged it and walked swiftly towards the door. She caught him just as he reached it, seizing his jumper, but he broke away and strode swiftly out the door, closing it firmly behind him.

- - -

Ginny sat back on the couch, thinking back over the year past. Neville, face alive as he outlined plans for the DA. Neville sitting stiffly in class, protecting his raw, whipped back from contact. Neville taking a moment to share a game of gobstones with a group of first-years.

Neville.

Neville hurling defiance in the face of Voldemort himself.

Neville, sweeping the sword of Griffindor in a blindingly beautiful arc.

Neville, weeping, for her.

Neville?

Neville's large, warm hands. His slow smile. That little line that appeared on his forehead when he was steeling himself for an unpleasant task.

The light in his eyes when he looked at her.

The time he asked her to the Yule Ball. She had barely seen him as a person back then, she realised guiltily. She had been utterly focussed on Harry and Neville was merely a collection of labels like 'clumsy' and 'well-meaning'.

Had she hurt him then? She rather thought she had. Even way back then.

Neville, fucking Romilda Vane...

Her blood heated at the thought. "Over my dead body!"

- - -

She found him in his dormitory. There were only two beds in there now, since there were only two remaining Griffindors in seventh year. Study desks and chairs filled the spaces once occupied by Ron, Dean and Harry. He was lying on his bed, flat on his back, staring at the canopy, his bruised eye towards her as she came in, closing the door behind her.

"Just leave it, will you Ginny?"

He rolled over to face away from her, and she used the moment to slip her shoes off and sit on the bed beside him, her back to the headboard.

"Luna was only half-right, you know," she said conversationally. She left the remark dangling for a minute, but he didn't take the bait. "Harry is like that, but the other half of the equation is that you are like that."

He scooted to the other end of the bed, propping himself against a post and looking dubiously at her. His shaggy hair was falling into his eyes, and she wanted to push it out of the way.

"As far as we all knew, Harry was dead. Hogwarts and the Wizarding World was lost to Voldemort. But you made your chance, and then you took it, right to Voldemort's face. I have no idea what made that snake so important, but from Harry and Voldemort's reaction it was important.

"You're amazing. You were amazing this whole year. Harry's always valued your friendship and, to be honest, I never really knew why. I'm sorry, Neville. Because this year I have seen the bravest, sweetest, strongest person I know. You.

"After Easter, when we went into hiding, I often thought about Harry and the others off doing whatever they were doing, but I worried even more about you and the DA, here at Hogwarts because I knew - I really knew - what a nightmare it has been for everyone here. And I knew whatever happened, you'd be in the middle of it."

She looked at him hopefully, but Neville's face was still a thundercloud waiting to storm. "I'm not some kind of consolation prize, Ginny. Oh look - Neville can be a hero too. I'll just fall in love with him instead!"

She winced. There was a painful kind of truth in that - but it wasn't the full truth, either.

"Actually, you remind me of my Dad, a bit," she said unexpectedly. Her mouth quirked as she realised that this probably wasn't a good seduction line. "Ummm, it's just that he is so quiet normally, and he doesn't really stand out from a crowd. I think people underestimate him."

She leaned forward, touching Neville's knee tentatively. "But my Dad is a member of the Order of the Phoenix. When the time came for people to resist evil, he stood up to be counted. He fought. Because being good isn't something he does by default, but just because that is who he is."

Slowly, unwillingly, Neville's face opened up a bit, and he smiled just a little bit.

"I'm sorry I overlooked you Neville." She slid a little closer to him. He turned his face away, but he didn't move out of reach as she crawled over his legs and kissed the scraped cheek presented to her. She leaned in to rest her head against his neck and wrap her arms around his warm long body. His muscles tensed and she thought he might push her away, or wrap his arms around her, but he just sighed and relaxed again.

After a few minutes she lifted her head and began to plant little kisses along his jawline. "Neville," she muttered, "Neville, Neville, Neville..." He tensed in her arms and the thought passed briefly through her mind that he might, even yet, refuse her, but then he groaned and tilted his head back in surrender.

"Ginny..."

She grinned in triumph and scrambled off his lap, pulling him forwards to lie beside her on the bed. She snuggled in under his chin. He was so tall! Much taller than Harry. His arms went around her and she felt that he was shivering uncontrollably.

"It's all right, Neville. It's all right. This is right." The soothing stream of words seemed to bubble softly out of her as she pressed her hips in closer to his, pulling his face down to meet hers. His eyelashes fluttered closed, dark against his cheek as he let her press her lips to the corner of his mouth, and then slide them softly over to nudge his mouth open. As his lips parted he made a little sound: a groan, or perhaps a sigh, and then he rolled his weight on top of her and she was beyond coherent thought, lost in the touch and taste of him.

With Harry, it had always been awkward, even when it was most pleasing. She had always felt as if she were on probation; proving herself to him; hoping she was enough for him. It was different with Neville. One minute she was kissing him and the next, somehow, she was feverishly arching into him, shirt unbuttoned, skirt rucked up to her waist and her fingers desperately fumbling to help him unbutton his trousers because...God... she needed him inside her so desperately... She was empty and aching for him. For a moment he paused, his cock poised at her entrance, her hand helping him into position and his breathing shallow and desperate. "Perhaps we shouldn't..."

She took two steadying breaths , wrapped her legs over his bum and gave him the glare of death. "If you're not inside me in two seconds, Neville Longbottom..." she threatened. She couldn't tell if the noise he made was a sob or a laugh, but it didn't matter, because he had thrust inside her at last.

Not the first time. Not the first boy. Definitely the best. Maybe the last.

- - -

"You're mine, now, Neville Longbottom," she murmured, when the sheets were sticky and the dawn was approaching. "You stay away from Romilda Vane."

"For as long as you want me," he muttered sleepily. "I'm still boring, you know."

"Boring's good," she agreed. "I'm looking forward to it." There was a smile on her face as she drifted back down into sleep.

THE END