My life is brilliant
My love is pure.

It's the only Muggle song that made the cut. True, the original band never intended for the drums to play themselves, but the rendition is close enough for anyone who knows the song.

I saw an angel.
Of that I'm sure.

Ginny's hand seems so small in his. Around him hundreds of couples sway, breaking down barriers of language and their competition in the Cup. The tightness of the floor lets him dare to step imperceptibly closer.

She smiled at me on the subway.
She was with another man.

How could she have said yes? Scratch that, how could she have heard him? He'd more or less blubbered willyougowithme, neglecting to mention what exactly she'd be going to. He could've been asking her to the bloody Forbidden forest. But there it was, the confident yes and nonchalant shake of the ginger hair.

But I won't lose no sleep on that,
'Cause I've got a plan.

Neville issued a silent prayer for time to stop, but as always it went on. The Muggle's words gave way to Celestina Warbeck, a fast song this time. The fourth year felt a physical pain as she claimed her touch back. Slowly the scent of strawberries mixed with the other smells of the dance floor and was lost.

You're beautiful. You're beautiful.

She tires. Neville is too busy watching the gloss shine on her lips to hear the individual words. Automatically, as if he were trained, he sticks his arm out for her and they make their way to the bar.

Together.

You're beautiful, it's true.

The pace of Celestina's song has made them both flush, and he feels the warmth of her arm as he guides her. Without thinking he orders pumpkin juice, something he's been wary of ever since Malfoy dosed it with shrinking serum last holiday. In the dim light of the floor she alone glows.

I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don't know what to do,

The ball goes on, one minute almost blurring into the next. Neville knows he will never hold her again, not after tonight.

'Cause I'll never be with you.

The crowd disappears into her ginger hair. Small surprise he doesn't notice them leaving, notice that they are among the last to sway to the floating music. Every muscle aches; he's never even been awake this late. What would Gran say, he wonders, GET IN BED, NEVI DEAR, AND DON'T FORGET YOUR HOT MILK!

Three in the morning is hardly appropriate for hot milk.

Yes, she caught my eye,
As we walked on by.

"I'm tired," she whispers. Her voice is hoarse and huskier than usual from overuse. Neville had had the same thought hours ago but would have never dared to end their evening together.

"Yes, of course," he offers her his arm. When they leave the hall—the last couple to do so—the music fades out. Only Flitwick is left in the room, sleeping off the effects of his Firewhisky.

She could see from my face that I was
Flying high,

This is the first time Hogwarts has felt small to the fourteen-year-old. Too quickly they near the Fat Lady; too quickly he whispers the password and guides her, almost sleeping on her feet, into the Common Room. Did she notice his hand lingering on her waist, his breath brushing against her cheek as he half-lifted her over the barrier?

And I don't think that I'll see her again,
But we shared a moment that will last 'till the end.

"So," he starts. Sooo. Every word has to be dragged out now.

"So," she repeats. So!. Terse, precise, sleepy.

"I had a lovely time!" It's blurted, artificial, and so very him.

"I did too."

You're beautiful. You're beautiful.

"You'll be going to bed, then?" a bead of sweat, hardly the first of the evening, makes its way down his forehead. Neville almost reaches for her hand, then thinks the better of it. Whatever spell allowed him to have her on the dance floor seems broken.

You're beautiful, it's true.

She shuffles towards the girl's dormitory. Something inside him yells, screams NOW!!!!!!! Louder than any feeling he's ever thought to have.

I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don't know what to do,

"Ginny?"

'Cause I'll never be with you.

"Yes?"

He closes the distance between them. Without knowing what he's really doing, he places a hand on her shoulder, comes so close her breath warms his neck.

You're beautiful. You're beautiful.

"Ginny, I--"

And for the first time in the evening, time really and truly stops. A flash enters Neville's head, a flash of green eyes and a scar. Ginny laughing. Hugging, crying, loving, breathing. A moment of the future caught for him. Instantly he knows it's the only precognition he'll ever have, this flash of green.

It's flash of where Ginny really could be happy, and Neville knows he isn't in it.

You're beautiful, it's true.

"Good night." He bends over and brushes her cheek with his lips.

There must be an angel with a smile on her face,
When she thought up that I should be with you.

The common room is far from silent; three beds down, Ron is snoring so loudly Neville wonders why the ghosts aren't complaining. Still, Neville tries to close his eyes.

But it's time to face the truth

Tonight will be hard. Tomorrow, even harder. Maybe the ginger hair will never leave his mind.

I will never be with you.

It's worth it.