She couldn't believe she'd been so wrong. Ginny lay face down on her bed, trying not to cry and bawling anyway. And why shouldn't she? She'd just asked out Neville Longbottom, longtime friend, newly developed hottie, and the sweetest boy she'd ever met, and he'd looked at her as if she'd grown another head. It would have been different if she hadn't let herself like him, really like him. But she had and she did and now he knew she liked him. And he didn't like her back.
How could she have been so wrong? The bottle had pointed quite clearly at her. Hadn't the heart's desire charm worked? Surely, Neville didn't kiss just anyone like that. It had to have worked. She'd put too much effort, too much hope into the whole thing for it to fail.
Sighing heavily, Ginny flopped on her back and stared at her canopy. Maybe she'd gone about the whole thing wrong. Maybe she should have just asked Neville if he liked her instead of engaging in all of this covert activity. It was just that the idea of liking someone again scared her. It never worked out for her. Harry had been unattainable and not a little dense. Michael had been unreasonable, unwilling or unable to agree to disagree. And Dean, while he was a lovely, lovely boy, was just too different somehow. It was like he'd held on to his muggle roots much more firmly than Hermione had and Ginny had often found it difficult to relate to him.
None of that was the case with Neville. When she was with him, she felt like he truly saw her. He listened. He understood. But somehow the fact that he trusted her with his thoughts and tribulations and secrets meant the most to her. No one ever had before. It made her feel special and connected. To him.
She sniffled, wiping her eyes as the door opened and several of her dorm mates trickled in. Ginny turned on her side, away from the others, and burrowed under the covers. She should just talk to him tomorrow, apologize for behaving like an idiot, tell him that she wanted to stay friends. Tears pricked her eyes again at the possibility that he wouldn't want to be her friend anymore. That it would be too weird being friends with someone who liked him like that when he obviously didn't feel the same. Why did life have to be so difficult?
"What's wrong, Neville?" Hermione asked as she sat beside the boy at breakfast two days later.
Neville shrugged. "Nothing."
Hermione glanced at Neville's breakfast. Torn bits of toast were slowly sinking into an untouched bowl of porridge. "Sure. Clearly everything is perfectly fine."
Propping his chin in his hand with a forlorn huff, Neville said sulkily, "It's Ginny. And Ron. One won't talk to me and the other is back to giving me evil looks. I swear if he could kill me with a glance, he would."
"Don't worry about Ron," Hermione said, trying not to smile at Neville's accurate description of Ron's behavior. "He's just being a big brother. You know how protective he is of Ginny."
"Yeah."
Hermione couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Neville look so glum. Terrified, intimidated, confused, insecure, sure, but not sad. Despite Neville's generally awkward demeanor, he wasn't prone to melancholia. It was disconcerting. So Hermione did what she always did in situations that bothered her. She decided to fix it. "What happened with Ginny, Neville?"
Neville's head jerked up, his expression one of such utter shock that Hermione felt like the worst kind of friend ever. Surely, she'd asked Neville something of a personal nature before. "Oh, you…you wouldn't want to he…"
Apparently not. "If I didn't want to hear it, I wouldn't have asked," Hermione said kindly.
After a moment's uncertainty, Neville told her about Ginny asking him out. "I didn't know what to do," the boy continued, his eyes flicking down the table to where she sat actively avoiding his gaze. "I never thought I had a chance with her. Not really. And now I've gone and made a muck of everything and I miss her."
"Perhaps you should ask her out," Hermione suggested after a moment's thought.
"She. Won't. Talk. To. Me," Neville reminded her, exasperation sharpening his voice.
"Maybe you could send her a note or something like that."
Neville just swirled his spoon in the cold, stiff porridge. "As if she even still wants to go with me."
Hermione noticed Ginny staring at Neville while he dejectedly played with his food. It was perfectly clear that Ginny was just as miserable as Neville. "She likes you, Nev."
"Or maybe she just feels sorry for poor, dumpy Neville," the boy spat bitterly.
Hermione's eyes widened in surprise; Neville was far from dumpy. Surely he realized that? Watching the sad boy continue to play with his food, Hermione decided that enough was enough. If Neville was going to wallow in self-pity and Ginny was going to spend the rest of term avoiding Neville, then it was up to Hermione to do something about the situation. Maybe once their romance was underway, she could turn her attention toward her own confusing relationships.