A/N: And so I give in to peer pressure. Seriously, I never intended for this to be more than a one-shot but this came to me this afternoon and I just went with it, so here it is. Thanks for all the awesome reviews. And if Ginny seems OOC, I'm 95 percent sure that there's going to be a reason for it.

For the next few weeks, Neville avoided both Weasleys. He got up extra early or slept in so he wouldn't run into Ron, who still looked at him with a murderous glint in his eye. Having dropped Divination made it even easier to give his dorm mate a wide berth. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement that nothing would happen as long as Neville stayed out of Ron's way.

Ginny, on the other hand, proved much harder to evade. She sought him out, appearing out of nowhere and sitting beside him at lunch and dinner. Though she never mentioned their kiss, she'd taken to sitting a little closer to him than usual. Her voice was warmer, more intimate in a way that made Neville wish she meant it. Sometimes, she visited him at the greenhouses during her free period, asking him random questions about the plants he was tending. Unsure of what to make of the change in Ginny's behavior, he'd relied on his usual demeanor: the friend who didn't have a chance. If nothing else, it ensured that Ron, who'd gained quite a bit of muscle since joining the Quidditch team last year, wouldn't attempt to pummel him to a pulp.

Neville had gotten through this delicate dance unscathed though a bit of a nervous wreck. By the beginning of October, Ron had stopped glaring at him and the dormitory wasn't quite as dangerous as before. He'd just started to feel comfortable again when it happened. He'd been sitting at a table in the common room working on a paper for Snape (Professor Sprout insisted he keep the class since Herbology and potions were so intimately connected), when Ginny sat down across from him. He'd glanced up at her, flashed her a quick smile, and returned to his paper. As his knowledge of plants had increased, his marks in Snape's class had improved and he wanted to keep it that way.

They'd been sitting for ten minutes, Neville writing and Ginny reading, when she suddenly laid her hand on his arm. Amazed that he could feel the effect of her touch coursing through his entire body, he'd raised his eyes to hers. Looking a little uncertain, Ginny met his gaze and offered him a small smile.

He frowned slightly; it wasn't like Ginny to be tentative about much of anything. "Are you all right, Gin?" he asked, hoping that whatever she told him wasn't too bad.

For a second, she looked like she was going to be ill. Then she took a breath and nodded.

"Did you want to tell me something?" he prompted gently.

She shook her head. "No."

"Okay." Neville glanced back at his paper then set his quill down and focused on the girl in front of him. "What's the matter, Ginny?"

"Nothing," she said, her voice a little too loud. "I'm fine."

Neville didn't respond; he merely raised a skeptical but patient eyebrow.

"Really."

Though he didn't believe her, he didn't push. "All right," he said and turned back to his paper.

She removed her hand and went back to her reading. He tried not to notice but she was nervously twisting a lock of hair around her finger. She never did that. Reaching out, he stilled her hand. "Gin, what's going on?"

"Will you go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?" she blurted, her overloud voice catching the attention of several surrounding Gryffindors.

"Uh," he said, surprised by the vehemence of her request, "okay. Sure. What are we going for? Are we getting a head start on your Christmas shopping?"

Ginny's mouth fell open. "No."

"A present for someone?" Neville guessed, hating the idea of helping her choose a gift for another boy. He'd done it before but, ever since the kiss, he'd begun to hope that her behavior indicated a certain liking for him. Now he realized that had just been wishful thinking. "Dean? Someone else, perhaps?"

"No," she repeated, shaking her head. "It's just that there's a trip this weekend and I thought we could go together. You know, like a date."

Neville just stared at her. Had Ginny Weasley just asked him out? And, if she had, why had she been so nervous? He was just Neville Longbottom. He didn't make anyone nervous. As he tried to remember how to form a coherent sentence, Ginny flushed and she blinked as tears filled her eyes. "Forget I asked," she mumbled as she packed her books, got up and bolted up the stairs to the girls' dormitory, leaving him shocked and confused.

"Sit down, Ron," Hermione insisted as he stood to make his way across the common room. "It's none of your concern."

"None of my concern?" he hissed at her incredulously. "Ginny's my sister and Neville just made her run crying from the common room. It most certainly is my concern."

She rolled her eyes and jerked him back into his seat by his sleeve. "We're talking about Neville. Whatever is going on is probably just a misunderstanding."

"I don't care," he countered stubbornly.

"She's old enough to handle it herself."

Ron looked furious at this. "She's fifteen!" he exclaimed, watching Neville pack his belongings and move slowly toward their dorm. He tracked the boy's progress, mentally devising the perfect way to extract an explanation and a promise that Nev would leave his little sister alone.

"She's right, you know," Harry said softly.

"What?" Ron's head whipped around to stare dumbfounded at his best friend.

"Ginny's old enough to take care of herself," Harry stated, not the least bit intimidated by the thunderous expression on Ron's face. "She's old enough to make her own choices. And if she's chosen Neville, you don't have anything to worry about. He'd never hurt her."

"Then how do you explain what just happened?" Ron demanded.

Harry shrugged. "A misunderstanding like Hermione said."

"But . . ."

"Maybe," Harry interrupted, closing his book and grabbing his bookbag, "you should pay attention to what's going on in your own life instead of trying to run Ginny's." With that, he followed Neville to the dorm.

Ron turned toward Hermione, who looked just as astonished as he did. Finally, he said, "What was that all about?"

"I don't know," she murmured with a bewildered shake of her head before turning serious. "But he has a point."

"Hermione . . ."

"Finish your paper," she instructed. "I'm sure we'll all end up in enough trouble throughout the year. The least we can do is try to keep up our marks."