Disclaimer: Harry nor any of his devoted followers do not belong to me, therefore I shall become irate and very trigger-happy should some weasel in a business suit try to slam me with a lawsuit, so don't even try it! Whew, I feel better, that monkey really knows his therapy….

A/N: Wow, it's been a while since I've had anything to post. This particular little work has been sitting on my laptop for the longest time and I finally decided to upload, so here you go!

Moonlight Secrets

The bell tolled five times the last time he checked and for some reason it made him want to sigh. It wasn't anything to be concerned about, just the clock heralding the fifth hour and any students who wished to catch an early dinner. Still, he didn't want to go into the massive Hall just yet.

Because in the back of his mind he wondered, that small voice that he just couldn't control asking timidly if she would be there. Would she be in the same place today, relishing the succulent food those crafty house elves cooked? His mind placed forth images, seeing her eat, hearing her laugh, seeing her smile…

But she wasn't his.

He couldn't stand it sometimes. The same rushing heat would burst forth from his heart, its agonized throbbing skipping erratically to see her again. It bordered on pain, this feeling, but he welcomed it whenever it came because within lay the image of her face. Still, you can't have the good without the bad and no matter how much he tried not to remember why he didn't want to enter the Great Hall, he could feel his hands clench at the memory.

The corridors had been dark that time, for the sun had long since set when he went for his walk.

It was, for lack of a better word, magical. The flames of the torches danced to their silent song, casting their shadows on the walls. One by one he could see the various paintings that shared space with the torches move about in preparation for sleep, the light warping and twisting their appearance. He had just turned the corner to see her walk out of the library, her hair swaying in the gentle breeze created by her unhurried stride. The books she balanced effortlessly had obscure titles he could not hope to read in the dim light, but she seemed to shine. Never mind that she was standing in front of a torch, the light he saw felt almost divine, an ethereal spotlight that illuminated her every step. She walked past him and he could see her smile.

And then she walked on past. It had meant nothing, just a polite smile of greeting to a fellow student.

He just couldn't stand it, couldn't bear the raw emotion that tore him whenever she looked at him, or even worse, when she looked away. Right then he wanted to shake his head loose of the memory, but it continued and so did his walk. Now he had more to think about than ever, not just the endless classes or the tumult that was his life, but the pressure of having to hold in this undeniable feeling, cage the need to see her and be with her. Eventually his legs led him back to the common room where he collapsed on the couch in front of the fire, too weary to walk and too restless to sleep.

Not soon afterwards footsteps on the stairs alerted him to the presence of another and he turned to see who it was.

"Hey Harry," Neville said when he reached the base of the steps. He smiled from his place on the couch before returning his eyes to the flames, letting the thoughts take form and play among the shadows. Behind him, he heard a fiddling sound that drew his attention to Longbottom again.

"You okay Neville," he asked, stifling his grin when the poor guy flinched at the sudden noise. He gave a nervous grin even as his eyes never left the portrait door. Now Harry was intrigued. Who could Neville Longbottom possibly be waiting for? Unable to withstand the suspense, Harry asked. This time the anxious grin was wide and proud.

"I'm waiting for my girlfriend," he declared with such conviction that for a moment Harry was taken aback. This was news indeed. How had Neville gotten a girlfriend? More importantly: how was it that no one knew? Before he could fathom any further on this mystery, he heard the door swing open and barely heard the squeal of delight from Neville. That's when Harry Potter was thrown a curveball.

In she walked, that same beautiful aura surrounding her as she made her way in. Harry swore he could hear the heavenly chorus announce her arrival. He was about to say something, anything when he saw with shock as she dropped her books on the nearest couch and ran into Neville's arms.

At that moment the world ended and the last thing he could see was the two embracing each other. The next minute the details of the common room crashed into place and he felt air return to his lungs. Greetings were exchanged between the players before him and he watched them sit on one of the couches by the stairs. With an unconscious critical eye he could see the way he slouched on the seat, the way her legs rested just above his knees as she sat in his enormous lap, could see that one meaty hand fall comfortably on her leg just two inches from her thigh. That heat Harry felt when he saw her intensified as wild imaginings placed him beneath her and Neville lying broken somewhere as green Jealousy step forth to give her opinion. So many reactions to that one scene, anger, hatred, betrayal, despair, hope, determination, it all just crested over his mind and heart until he could feel the muscles in his hand cramp where he had clenched them over the sofa.

The memory faded and he was left with the same feeling of emptiness he had felt that night when he went to bed. Even now, a full two months since that night, that one recollection still held so much sway over him. It haunted every corner, pushing aside the priorities of NEWT exams and other crap until he could hardly breathe. And then there was Neville: that goddamn piggish bastard, with his silly smile and juvenile Alzheimer's. The memory really took hold whenever Harry was cursed with seeing him. Ron wondered at his sudden change in attitude, but Harry said nothing. What could he say? Besides, the Weasley was doing just as bad as he was in the classes, what with him fighting with Hermione and all. No use in telling him anything.

But something had to be done.

He was going mad like this, his mind slowly fading away until he ended up doing something that he'll really regret. He needed a moment alone with her, to tell her everything. Even if she didn't feel the same, he needed to say something. So he planned, laying out a blueprint for how he would approach her. At times it felt silly, she was after all already in his social circle, and he talked to her all the time (that was how he fell for her after all) but this time was different. The conversation he wanted to start had to be handled delicately, with a certain location and certain time. He wasn't trying to be romantic, let that be known. He simply felt that the full moon illuminated better than some thin crescent or smoking torch. What better place to be alone than by the lake?

Yeah, that sounds good. With a newfound purpose, Harry felt better; his usual demeanor returned during the day, he chatted with Neville, spent more time with her, and his studies improved. But at night, when even Ron left him for sleep, he sat by the fire and planned; fine-tuning every detail until one night near the end of February he finally decided to do it. Starting the minute he awoke, Harry headed for his first class, Defense Against the Dark Arts, making sure to walk with Neville all the way. Striking up a conversation, he carefully implied that he had heard a rumor that the assignment Snape had given to turn in on Friday had in fact been moved up to tomorrow morning. Watching with satisfaction as Longbottom's face turned twelve shades of green and purple, Harry left him to sit with Ron and Hermione and they chatted about nothing at all. Two classes later saw him on his way to Divination, a class he shared with Ravenclaw and her. His conversation with her as they made the long trek up to the top of the North Tower was filled with jokes and all around charming dialogue, which he used to drop the suggestion that she meet him by the lake. For a second he thought he saw her cheeks redden before he added that they were helping Hermione with her Astrology homework. Again, hope made him see disappointment flash in her expression. She said yes and he spent the next three hours floating a foot off the floor. Ron asked if he was okay, to which he merely smiled.

The next phase was a little tricky, since it involved just Neville and her. He watched with anxiety as she sat by him and they began talking. Now, it was widely known, or at least it should be, that when Neville was stressing over an assignment he tended to close himself off and lash at anyone who bothered him. So when she tried to talk to him, no doubt to ask what was wrong, it triggered his response. He shook his head, she pushed, back and forth as Harry watched until he saw Neville whisper something quick and harsh. He imagined many kinds of reactions he would see on her face, but never had he thought she would do what she did. She could've been looking hurt, could've looked betrayed or upset, but instead she merely shrugged her shoulders, tapped Neville on the shoulder and left the table. Two minutes later she sat in front of him, talking as if nothing had occurred. Harry could not remember a better conversation.

The rest of the day flew by as he waited for sunset. The plan was falling into place perfectly, even if he did feel a little bad. Still, he had to at least tell her. The possibility of rejection loomed over his head, and if that were the case then he would do his best to mend this. But until then, well, all's fair in love and war right?

Night came and the moon wove its spell on the castle while its majesty reflected on the surface of the lake. Harry stood by the edge between the shining lake and the twinkling sky, imagining the moonbeams penetrating that placid surface and illuminating the lake bottom. There was a soft breeze that felt more like a loving caress than anything. The setting was just so perfect.

'Only one more piece left,' he thought. As if answering his wistful thought he heard the grass rustle under soft footsteps.

"Harry," she said, the light tone making his heart skip a beat as he turned to face her. "Where's Hermione?"

"She's on her way," he heard himself say. "Want to sit while we wait?" She nodded slowly and he wished once again that she had blushed to hear his suggestion. Sitting by the edge they talked of anything, the upcoming exams, past adventures, the gossip around the school of which for once he was not a part of. It was so wonderful he almost forgot the reason he had brought her out here. Steeling his will for whatever came, he turned to her. "I have to tell you something." She looked over and he took a second to admire her inquisitive expression. "Hermione's not coming," he finally said.

"Why not," she said, confusion leaking into her voice. "Doesn't she need help?"

"No, I asked you out here to tell you something really important. I'm not sure if you'll want to hear it, but I need to say it or I'm going to go crazy."

"What is it?" Her voice seemed strange, distant and near at the same time. Her eyes, those wonderful orbs that could lull him into joyous dreams, were intent on him, only him.

"Well, um, there's really no other way to say this but," he paused, feeling his heart constrict as it prepared for rejection. Then, in one deep breath he let it all out. "I'm really attracted to you, everything about you. Whenever you're around I get this happy warm feeling like eating freshly baked bread, or my favorite meal made just for me, or like the entire world sang in your presence." Courage and breath left him as he stood before her vulnerable and critical. Her expression was unreadable, so many flickering emotions. The silence seemed to stretch into eternity until he heard her speak. Her voice was timid, soft as the wind that rustled their hair.

"You know, I was feeling guilty."

"Guilty?" Ice water froze his veins as he felt his hands starting to shake. God, preparing really didn't mean a thing for this. In the midst of his breakdown, he almost forgot she was still there and talking.

"-But the truth is that I really couldn't stand it anymore. Going out with Neville just to get closer to you, to make you jealous, it was just too cruel to him. I guess I thought if I went out with a friend of yours I could make you notice me. I mean, you're Harry Potter! There are so many girls who wanted what I wanted who were much prettier, and smarter, and older, and…" she continued but Harry had zoned off again, his focus returning to three simple words.

What I wanted, such a simple statement, capable of multiple meanings, but in that one second of realization it achieved biblical status, the very essence of salvation. The world set forth again, the moon glowed brighter, stars twinkled merrily and he was reaching for her. Their lips met.

And the rest was silence. When they finally parted he could see a deep blush covering her lovely face and a goofy smile that most likely mirrored the one he sported. Then her name fell from his lips, a reverent dedication to what he now felt to be real love. The word traveled on the wind up into the night sky where it would play among the stars for the rest of time.

"Ginny."

And that's it, end of story, do your thing you lovely readers you, and I'll see you at my next story!

Exuent