AuthorNotes:This is from Neville's point of veiw, and is set during HBP. I usually write poetry, so I'd appreciate opinions of my prose. Flames will be laughed at, suggestions and constructive critisism will be appreciated and taken seriously, and praise will make my day (be honest and mix it with constructive critisism if you really didn't like it).

Rusty Armour:

Neville watched Ginny as she sat with Harry beneath the tree. They were holding hands and talking, not a care in the world. Over the Hogwarts grounds, countless groups of students ranging from two to ten people were gathered, talking and generally doing whatever friends did. As usual, Neville was the only loner. Sometimes Luna came and joined him, and sometimes she sat alone so he wasn't the only one by himself, but that day she was nowhere to be seen. Neville knew he shouldn't stare, but he had no chance of being discovered. Neville Longbottom was invisible; he blended into the scenery. One of the few perks to not being noticed was being able to get away with watching people. Ginny leaned closer to Harry, and Harry put his arm around her. Before he could push the feeling away, Neville's heart burned with jealousy.

Neville had been in love with the youngest Weasley for more than two years. As he watched her sitting with Harry – so close she may as well be on his lap – he experienced the same thing he had with Michael, and then Dean. He felt like the rational part of his brain was arguing with the irrational; the honest part, which saw what was real, was quarrelling with the dishonest part, which saw what it wanted.

I have no right to feel jealous of Harry, he thought. Ginny's the most beautiful, talented, intelligent, brave, kind, wonderful girl in school. I'm the most clumsy, forgetful, cowardly loner who can't even get decent grades. If she's not going out with Harry, my chances with Ginny are less than zero. If she is, they're still less than zero. Therefore, Harry does not affect my chances at ever becoming romantically involved with Ginerva Molly Weasley. Why can't I just be happy for the two of them?

Because it's not right! Harry can't love her like I can. He didn't notice her until this year. I've loved her since my fourth year, and I've liked her for years before that. She was always so nice to me, always telling me I was worth something – I tried to return that by being there for her all along. Talking with anyone, especially girls, normally made me nervous. I noticed her kindness and was comfortable around her. Harry didn't notice her at all!

He notices her now. He beat me, fair and square. His talent in lessons, in battle, on the Quidditch Pitch and everywhere else surpasses mine tenfold. He's brave and loyal, and deserves a girl as wonderful as Ginny. He's her equal.

No one is her equal! Besides, I'm brave and loyal too.

No I'm not. I'm a coward, everyone knows that. I could never give Ginny what she needs. Harry saved her life; he killed the Basilisk for her. He's her knight in shining armour. I couldn't even keep those stupid Slytherins from taking her.

At least I tried to save her! Saving her meant going to the Department of Mysteries, where I proved I wasn't a coward! I may not be worthy of Ginny, but I was brave! I stayed up until the end!

So did Harry. If he's her knight in shining armour, my armour is all rusted.

Rusty armour is better than none!

Shining armour is better than rusty armour. Ginny's a perfect girl with perfect taste in guys, so it makes sense for her to choose Harry. Guys who truly love girls are supposed to be happy for them when they succeed. Ginny got a wonderful guy, which is a success. I claim to love her, so I should be happy for her. I have even more of a reason to be happy instead of jealous, since all this relationship does is make Ginny happy. It doesn't affect my chances with her. I know how much Ginny loved Harry. She's talked to me about it. I'm in love with her and she got her heart's desire – am I so cruel I can't be happy?

Your heart's desire isn't always what's best for you!

Harry is the incredibly talented boy who lived; of course he's best for her! I'm certainly not. Am I so cruel I'd take away the famous, brave boyfriend and sentence Ginny to a life with me, which would probably cause people to make fun of her? I can't give her what she needs. I try to. She's always been so good to me, and in return I give her everything I have. That's not nearly enough for her, though!

I try harder than Harry. For years he ignored her, while I always tried to talk to her. Then, I noticed her even more when I fell in love with her. I can't control how much talent I have. Isn't it the thought that counts?

Neville shook his head. It was insane to even think about comparing the talented, brave, strong, intelligent boy who lived and was destined for great things with the cowardly, clumsy, stupid loner who was destined for unrequited love. He stole another look at Harry and Ginny. They were talking with their faces unnecessarily close. Neville went back to his book, not taking in a word of it. In the present, Ginny was with Harry. In the future, she'd either be with the same guy or a better one. Neville didn't want to think about either of those things, so he decided to remember the past. He thought back to the Yule Ball, when it had all started …

Flashback:

Neville looked around the Gryffindor common room, his heart sinking. He was so used to the feeling he couldn't believe it still affected him. It was the same feeling he got every time they had to choose seats, every time they needed partners during class. It was nervousness to the extreme. His stomach hurt. Every part of the sensation he got during group projects came back to him: the embarrassment at taking so long to find someone, the desperation to find someone quickly, the fear of not finding anyone at all. It wasn't a group project that time. It was something much more important. Hermione had just turned him down – she'd tried to be nice by lying about going with someone else – and he had to find someone else to ask to the Yule Ball. It had to be someone desperate, since no one else would accept his invitation. It had to be someone he was comfortable with, since otherwise he'd be too nervous to ask.

He looked at all the people – all the girls – and wondered if there was anyone in the world that fit those requirements. He was just about to give up hope when the answer, so obvious and so clear, came to him. It came to him in the form a redheaded figure sitting alone at one of the tables, trying to finish her homework. Ginny was usually surrounded by friends, so he took it as a sign that she was alone. The situation was perfect. He and Ginny had never been really close, but they had talked. She'd told him how she felt about Harry, and she'd said he was the only one she'd told those things to. She said she thought he was the only one who'd understand. Unlike most people – especially girls – Ginny didn't make him nervous. She kept telling him he deserved some self-confidence.

In an uncharacteristic display of bravery, Neville walked up to Ginny without hesitating. He tapped her on the shoulder and she looked up at him. When he looked into those brown eyes, he suddenly became shy. They were really beautiful – how had he not noticed them before? He stared at them for a moment before remembering what he was there for. Those eyes made him too nervous to ask the question straight out, as he'd planned to. Instead, he said, "Do you need any help with your homework?"

Ginny was writing a Herbology essay, which Neville took as another sign. She said she would like some help, so he sat down with her and helped her until she finished it. She thanked him when they were done, and he asked if he could talk to her. She said of course he could; when had he ever needed to ask for permission before? Neville tried to look into those eyes as he spoke, but he couldn't do it. Instead, he spoke to his lap: "I know you really want to go to the Yule Ball with Harry," he told her. "If you want to say no to this, go ahead. I don't mind. I'm just saying if Harry already has a partner and you need someone to go with – since you'll need a partner because you're too young to go with someone your own age – you could go with me." He realised that might sound too forward, so he quickly clarified: "It would just be as friends." He'd never felt the need to clarify that before, but that border had been hazy since he'd seen those eyes.

Ginny laughed, but not unkindly. "Oh, Neville," she replied. "You have to quit being so unsure of yourself. I'm sure Harry will have another partner, so I'd love to go with you."

Cut to the Yule Ball:

Ginny grabbed Neville's arm and pulled him onto the dance floor. It was only the second song (a fast one), and not many people besides the champions and their partners were dancing. Neville muttered a protest – he said he didn't want to be embarrassed – but Ginny told him not to be silly.

They danced through the next three songs, all of which were fast. As they danced, an unfamiliar sensation overtook Neville. It took several minutes and an entire song before he realised what it was: hewas having fun. How long had it been since he'd actually enjoyed himself? How long had it been since he'd gone more than ten minutes without worrying about something or messing something up? He was usually so busy trying to get good grades, become a better flyer, remember everything, figure out where he was going and generally live up to everyone's (especially his Gran's) expectations. Even though he dedicated almost all his time to this, he still only just managed it. Often, he failed in it despite his efforts. This left very little time for fun. Out on the dance floor, he officially decided something: he liked to have fun. He loved the feeling that washed through him: the carefree notion that nothing mattered but the music, the dance floor and Ginny. He didn't have to worry about anything else. For those three songs, he had the time of his life.His life was not one with manygreat times.

The next song was slow. He knew the drill; they put their arms around each other and shifted their weight in time to the music. It wasn't that hard. Even Neville could probably manage it without tripping over his own (or Ginny's) feet. He looked up at her and, just like when he'd asked her to dance, looked into those brown eyes. He instantly cast his eyes downward. Why wasn't he capable of looking at her? Suddenly he felt awkward. Ginny was shorter than him, being a year younger, but why did he feel like a huge, awkward bear next to a graceful swan?

Ginny, seeing his nervousness, gave a slight sigh. "Neville," she said, "it isn't hard. Don't worry; I'll show you how to do this." With that, she put her slender arms around his body, which seemed to have gotten twice its usual size since he'd looked into those eyes of hers. He wondered if she'd put a spell on them to make any guy who looked directly at them lose track of things. "Your arms go up here," she said, placing them around her neck. "There, now we just shift our weight. Your such a great dancer when it comes to fast songs – the slow songs are where everyone does the same moves so you don't have to worry." With that, she rested her head against Neville's shoulder.

The moment she did so, a second new sensation overtook Neville. It was like it had been there all along, and holding Ginny in his arms unleashed it. Standing there, turning slowly, his arms around Ginny, he realised what he was feeling was much deeper and more powerful than mere fun. He didn't know what it was, but he didn't devote a lot of mental energy to figuring it out, either. Mostly, he wanted to enjoy the wonderful feeling. Thinking made him feel less, so he didn't want to do that. He was in heaven, and that was all the mattered. Since he wasn't really trying to figure out why, the song was almost over before he did. The answer came into his head when he wasn't even looking for it, and he knew it was true: somewhere during the last minute and a half, he'd fallen head over heels in love.

End Flashback

And I've been nothing but a blushing, crushing schoolboy ever since, thought Neville bitterly. He'd been so awkward for the rest of the Yule Ball he'd stepped on her feet frequently. At the end of the Ball, Ginny had gone to get drinks. At the drinks table, she'd started talking to a Ravenclaw boy. She'd brought him back to the chairs and the three of them had talked. The three of them had danced together during the fast songs, but Ginny had started alternating between Neville and Michael Corner during the slow ones. She'd asked Neville if he minded and he'd said no – what else could he have said? Neville sighed as he remembered it. Ginny and Michael had remained friends, and started dating at the end of the year.

Neville watched Ginny as she sat with Harry. Two years and two boyfriends had passed since the Yule Ball, and Ginny was on her third. Neville had endured jealousy of Michael and Dean, but it wasn't like with Harry. He knew they weren't the boys she truly wanted, so he didn't feel as jealous. Was he so cruel he felt less happy instead of more when she got the boy of her dreams?

He watched that long red hair as the wind blew it around Ginny's face. It was so beautiful – could there ever have been a time when he hadn't noticed it? It wasn't until several weeks after the Yule Ball that he'd started to realise how pretty she was. At the Yule Ball he'd fallen for her, but he'd been in love with her personality. Ithad takenseveral weeks for him to see her outer beauty too. Once he'd started noticing her in that way, he hadn't been able to believe there'd ever been a time when he hadn't. He couldn't believe the other people didn't see what he did.

As he watched her with Harry, he knew things had changed since then. Ginny had developed during her fifth year, and people kept talking about what a fine young woman she'd grown into. Hadn't they noticed the fact that she'd always been a fine young woman? Neville knew she was popular, but he couldn't believe there were boys at Hogwarts who didn't think she was beautiful. How was it possible to miss that?

He watched bitterly as she leaned her head on Harry's shoulder, just as she'd leaned on his shoulder at the Yule Ball. When did I become such a jealous and bitter person? he wondered. I used to ask Ginny why she talked to me. I had no talents, physical or mental strength, bravery, experience in just about anything, popularity – why did she even waste her time with me? She told me that wasn't true; I was great at lots of things. However, even if it was true, she'd talk to me anyway. She loved the way I was kind and good natured. She used to tell me I'm not nobody, and I never will be as long as I have my good nature. Now that I've become jealous and bitter – now that I've lost that – what do I have? What am I worth? He knew the answer, and he wasn't afraid to admit it to himself: Nothing. I'm worth nothing since I became jealous, and all because I was smitten for a girl who was way out of my league.

He thought about the last few years, and how everything had gone downhill since the Yule Ball. He'd always known he'd had no chance of being close to her romantically, but he'd tried to be there for her platonically when she needed him. He'd always been a friend, on call from the sidelines, but other than that he'd faded into the background of her life. Her boyfriends had replaced him, and since she'd become involved with Harry, their conversations had become few and far between. He'd been there when she'd talked to him about how she was trying to take her mind off Harry with Michael and Dean. He'd been there when she'd broken up with Michael, and she'd told him how she'd done it to relieve the guilt. She'd felt bad – like she was just using him to get over Harry. He'd been there when she'd asked Dean out because breaking up with Michael had put her in the same position as before: thinking about Harry and not having anything to take her mind off it. He'd wanted to offer to take her mind off it himself, but he'd been too nervous. She'd told him she loved talking to him because he understood everything she was going through. She didn't know he understood it because he felt the same thing for her.

He watched her for a little while longer, and saw Harry make her laugh. The increase in jealousy was pushed out by another emotion: this one familiar. He was suddenly seized by an overwhelming desire to be with her, to hold her, to put his arms around her. He knew some guys wanted more than that, but his daydreams about Ginny just involved him holding her and making everything okay. Sometimes, before the end of the daydream, they'd kiss. They never went farther than that. He didn't want to. The kiss was all he wanted. Even being able to put his arms around her like he had at the Yule Ball would be paradise. He knew he didn't deserve even that. He'd certainly never get it. Most of the time he was at least able to think about other things. He'd been in love with her for two years – he couldn't have her at the front of his mind all the time. Every once in a while, however, the urge to hold her and make everything okay – for him and for her – became unbearable. This rarely lasted more than thirty seconds, so he closed his eyes and waited for the feeling to pass. He knew if he kept them open – if he watched Ginny – he might not be able to resist the urge to go to her.

When he finally felt normal again – or as normal as he ever felt, he opened his eyes. Harry and Ginny were kissing. Pushing back the jealousy, Neville stood up and walked into the castle. He headed for the library, desperate for anything to take his mind off Ginny. Maybe he'd do homework. Maybe he'd look for books on plants, being the Herbology geek he was. Maybe he'd read some of the Quidditch books and, if he was sure no one was looking, he'd go to the Quidditch Pitch and practice flying (he told himself the Quidditch practicing in secret and the desire to try out for the Gryffindor team the next year had nothing to do with wanting to impress Ginny). Then again, maybe he'd go back to the Gryffindor common room and take one of the daydream charms from the Weasley twins' shop. Maybe he'd spent a half an hour zooming around the Quidditch Pitch with Ginny, or maybe he'd just sit in the common room and hold her. And maybe, before the half hour was over, they'd kiss.