Six Years Later

Though his back was to her, there was something about the man in front of Gringotts that was very familiar to Ginny Weasley. She squinted at his tall, lean frame and dark, curly hair hoping that somehow her memory would be jogged. She squinted to no avail. Her squint then turned to a frown. It was going to nag at her until she figured it out. If only he'd stop talking to the officious-looking old wizard beside him and turn around. Then, perhaps, she could settle the matter in her mind and get on with her life.

"Ginevra!"

Jumping in her seat, she turned her gaze to her companion. Reginald Denham, an apprentice to her father in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department and her date for lunch, stared back. "Are you all right, Ginevra?"

"Yes," she replied, forcing herself not to turn her gaze back to the tall man before Gringotts. "Why do you ask?"

Reginald, never Reggie, shrugged. "You were frowning and seemed distracted."

Ginny's eyes flitted back to the mystery man. He was nodding at something the old wizard had said. "I'm sorry," she said, dragging her eyes back to Reginald. "You were telling me a story about potty-ports?"

"Port-o-potties," he corrected, smiling indulgently before resuming his story.

He did that often she noticed. Smiled, nodded, laughed with an air of superior indulgence for her less cultivated knowledge of all things Muggle. With a mental shrug, she went back to watching the mystery man under the guise of eating her salad. He and the older wizard continued their conversation for several more minutes before the older wizard gave the younger man something. Ginny couldn't make out what it was; she was too far away. Then, shaking hands, the older wizard left and the younger man went into the bank.

"I'm sure he learned a lesson he'll never forget," Reginald exclaimed.

Ginny looked up to see her date had finished his story and giggled as expected. She wondered why she even bothered pretending she was interested. Reginald was nice enough, but he was far too stuffy for her taste. He reminded her of Percy. She suppressed a shudder; she couldn't imagine ever wanting to date someone like Percy.

Resigning herself to another Muggle-artifact-gone-awry story, Ginny smiled at Reginald. "Anything else happen so far today?"

"Actually, no." Reginald wiped his mouth and dropped the napkin on his empty plate. "Listen, Ginevra, I have to go back to the office."

"Oh." What a pleasant surprise. She felt awful about being so happy he was leaving. "Why?"

"I have a mountain of paperwork to do," he explained as he stood. "Did you want anything else?"

"No, I'm done with my salad."

"Right." Reginald left to settle the bill. She was trying to decide whether she should go back to work and forget about her mystery man or go into Gringotts and try to spot him when Reginald returned. Standing, Ginny offered him her cheek to kiss. He'd been going for her lips. "Are we still on for Friday night?"

"Yes," she answered though her stomach dropped. The Weasleys were having their monthly family dinner this weekend. Now she remembered why she bothered to pretend she was interested in something more with Reginald. Family dinners were easier to endure when her mother wasn't badgering her to get married and start a family of her own. "I'll see you then."

He nodded briskly and was off, weaving his way through the crowd.

Ginny drifted from the restaurant's patio into Diagon Alley, careful to stay on the edge of traffic. She had time; her lunch break wasn't over for another half hour. But did it really matter who he was? He could be someone she'd disliked. He could be a complete stranger. He could be dangerous. She should go back to work. There wasn't a shortage of it, that much was certain. This whole mini-obsession was ridiculous; she was going back to work. Just as she'd decided to end this folly, she realized she'd walked to the bottom of the steps leading to the bank. Figuring that something inside of her wanted to know who the man was, Ginny started up the steps.

She had almost reached the gleaming bronze doors when her mystery man came out, engrossed in the folder he carried. Suddenly, everything else fell away. He may have gotten taller, his hair longer, and his face more mature, but she knew this man. Even though she hadn't seen him in six years. "Neville?"

He looked up, startled by the sound of his name.

"Neville Longbottom?"

His shoulders drooped and hurt nearly overwhelmed her. He didn't want to see her? Maybe he didn't recognize her though she didn't see how he couldn't. "Ginny," he said softly. That shot that theory.

She blinked back the tears flooding her eyes and balled her hands into fists. Her nails dug into her palms, but she welcomed the pain. It was the only thing keeping her from losing it. Neville Longbottom stood before her, alive and well. Nothing indicated that he'd recently escaped some hellish dungeon or had been living some equally wretched existence. In fact, Neville looked better than he ever had.

Ignoring the people shoving by on either side of them, Ginny fought to think past the tightening of her chest and the pressure building in her head. Neville Longbottom stood before her without the decency to look like he'd been through hell. "You're all right," she whispered.

"Yeah, I . . ."

"No one kidnapped you or anything like that," she continued. Her head felt like it was going to pop off.

"No." He reached out and touched her arm.

Until he touched her, a part of Ginny hadn't really believed that she was having this conversation. Now, the tension inside of her snapped. "Then where the bloody hell have you been for the last six years!" she shouted, not caring who stared.

"I can explain, Ginny," Neville said, taking her arm and guiding her down the stairs.

"You'd damn well better," she exclaimed. "Where are you taking me?"

"The Leaky Cauldron."

"Why?"

He smiled down at her. Her heart fluttered maddeningly in response—an unusual reaction that flustered her even more than his reappearance. "Because we can have a calming cup of tea and a private conversation there."

"Are you trying to say I need to calm down?" she demanded.

"Yes."

Ginny gaped at him the rest of the way to the shabby pub. Neville got them a table in a quiet corner and ordered tea. Neither spoke. He fidgeted with his teacup and wouldn't look at her. She took the opportunity to really look at him. He'd grown into a fine young man. In school, his features hadn't fit as smoothly as some of the other boys. His eyes, nose, and ears had all seemed too big for his face while his mouth and chin had been too small. Now, everything had settled into a pleasant balance. He'd grown into his face.

She took in the long, oddly elegant column of his neck, which led to broad, trim shoulders. With his robes on, she couldn't see what else had changed but with his new height—he was easily 6'1"—Ginny suspected that he'd slimmed down significantly from the plump boy he'd been. He raised his teacup to his mouth double-handed and her eyes were drawn to his long, slender fingers. She shivered, her breathing shallower than seconds before, and she wondered why such a simple sight would lead to such a weird effect. "I only have fifteen minutes left until I have to go back to work," she informed him, her tone far more brusque than she'd intended.

Neville carefully set his cup on the table before raising his gaze to hers. Ginny had never noticed what a warm, inviting shade of brown they were. "I thought I could explain," he said softly. "Now, I can't think of how to tell you."

"I need to know something, Nev," she said. "None of us knew what to think after you disappeared from the infirmary. We didn't know if you were . . ." Her voice tapered off as she recalled her fear and worry for the months that followed his disappearance. "You're going to have to give me more than that."

"I can't explain it all in fifteen minutes, Gin." She opened her mouth to insist that he tell her something when he took her hands in his. The air sighed out of her and Ginny couldn't tear her eyes from the sight of her small hands in his larger, shapely ones. "Would . . . would you have dinner with me tonight, Ginny? I promise I'll explain then."

She nodded, surprised by how much she wanted to say yes. What was going on with her?

"Good," he said. "Let's meet at . . ."

"The Ministry," she interrupted before explaining, "I work there."

"Wouldn't you rather go home first?"

"No. Actually, why don't I just make us dinner?"

"Are you sure?" he asked, clearly surprised by the offer.

He wasn't the only one. "Yes, I'm sure. Meet me in the atrium at five-fifteen?"

"All right."

"Now that that's settled, I should get back to work." She really didn't want to go, but she needed some time to think about what had just happened.

Neville stood when Ginny did and walked with her to the door. She stopped with her hand on the knob and looked up at him. "I'll be there, Gin," he assured her before she could say anything. "I promise."