Ginny slammed through the portrait of the fat lady and into the common room. Neville was the only one there, and he had his head down writing what could only be an essay for Snape's class. When he heard her come in, he lifted his head, a small smile playing on his lips. It grew wider when he saw the look on her face. "Harry driving you nutters again, Gin," he asked gently. The dam on her emotions broke, and tears streamed down her cheeks as she collapsed on the nearest chair.
Neville's eyes widened in surprise. Usually Ginny yelled, sometimes she threw things, but he wasn't used to tears falling. He moved to the arm of the chair she was sitting in. He leaned down to hug her, but she lifted her face to his, instead. Their lips touched lightly. The kiss was filled with her tears and his hesitancy. It grew deeper as time seemed to stand still. When time caught up, they both drew back. "Neville," she whispered, a question in her voice. A smile broke out across his face, and he curved his hand over her cheek. "I've wanted to do that since your third year, Gin," he said, staring at her, "I'm sorry though... I know you and Harry are..."
"Done," came a voice from the doorway, and they both spun around to look at the source of the voice. Ron stood in the doorway, 'Mione beside him, and between them stood Harry. His face was soft, quite unexpectedly, and then a smile broke out across it. "Gin, you NEVER kissed me like that. It was quite a sight," he said. Ron's mouth hung open and Harry turned with a grin at him. "C'mon Ron, let's go. We have to get to the library." He led his friends away, and as the potrait swung shut, Ginny and Neville heard Ron sputter, "But... but, we... we weren't GOING to the library, Harry!"
Ginny smiled after her brother and his friends. She glanced shyly at Neville, whose face was crimson. "I thought he was going to hurt me," he said in awe. Ginny chuckled. "First, Harry would never hurt you. You are one of his best friends. Second, Harry and I would NEVER have worked out. Trust me. Third, and most important, we had already broken up, Neville. Today was just two friends arguing as they are bound to do when one is a hot-headed redhead and the other is 'The Boy Who Lived'." Neville felt a chuckle of relief swell up in him. Gin slid over in the chair and pulled him down beside her. "So, Mr. Longbottom... what was this about wanting to kiss me since my third year?" He pulled her close and claimed her mouth, fully.
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Breathtaking. Everything about it was breathtaking. The kisses, especially. It was all so easy, this time together. And there was plenty of time together. Between classes, at lmeals in the Great Hall, in the common room surrounded by their friends, late nights by the fire, when they should have been asleep... and every kiss was as good as the last. Better, in fact.
This was how they fell in love. Kiss by kiss, whisper by whisper, late night by late night. Ginny couldn't even recall when Neville had been less than her world, and if the memory of a time when he was "Just Neville" ever cropped up, it was stolen by the next breathtaking kiss.
Even Ron agreed that they were a good fit. Only once did he try to tease his little hothead sister about the relationship. He called her "Mrs. Longbottom" and for two days, she couldn't stop smiling at the idea. He found it was not much fun to tease her after that.
And then the war started, and Ginny was all alone. Siblings, friends and her love all signed on for what they considered their duty. When she tried to sign on, as well, they all told her no. She tried growling, screaming, pouting, throwing things and even denying her Neville the kisses that sustained them both. Nothing worked. Finally one night, when she was in a particuarly bad snit over the whole thing, Neville pulled her onto his lap. The fire was burning low, and his voice was so quiet. With tears falling down his face, he looked at her. She thought his soul was cracking apart, and it made her ache.
"Ginny, love, I can't..." he said, "I can't bear the thought of you fighting him. We both know what he's capeable of, and I couldn't stand to lose you to him. Please.. just..." The tears came faster then, and she felt her heart breaking. She buried her head in the crook of his neck and whispered a thousand words to him. The ones that finally stopped the tears completely came at the end. "I promise," she whispered into his ear, "I swear, darling. I won't ask again... you have my vow."
They kissed again, a hundred times at least. And a few days later, Ginny was alone, and all of her dearest friends in the world were off fighting without her.
Neville owled her nightly, and she responded... but she felt more alone than she had ever felt. The laughter of the other students couldn't reach her. She never noticed the worried looks that followed her. She spoke in monosylables when possible.
She knew she was just waiting for the day when the owl wouldn't come. Or it would, but it would be someone else's handwriting. Harry's, maybe. Or Ron's. Anyone but Neville, and she knew she would die then, soulless, because he had it tucked away deep in his heart. She hoped it would sustain him through the death and destruction around him, but feared it would never be enough.
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And then the owl did not come. For two days, she did not move. She couldn't breathe and the world was flat. On the third day, some concerned friends finally dragged her down to the Great Hall. They all made reassuring clucks over her, reminding her that the lack of owl did not necessarily mean the worst, and that not all hope was lost, and didn't she want something to eat, and look here Ginny, the Prophet says that the fighting is slowing down now.
She picked at her food for as long as she could bear to, and then begged off, claiming exhaustion. It was true, she WAS exhausted. She walked herself back to the tower and could bairly force the password out through her clenched teeth. She walked slowly to the common room, head down, trying not to start crying again. She heard her name said softly and glanced up. In a heartbeat she was in his arms. She fell against his chest, tears flowing. She couldn't breathe. He was kissing her and she was breathless. She never wanted to stop kissing him again. When he pulled back, she actually whimpered his name. "Neville." "Ginny-love, let me talk. I came to ask you a question," he said.
He smiled one of his shy smiles at her and her breath caught again. He turned in the chair so that she now sat directly on the cushion. He slid onto the floor, on his knees, and turned to face her. He pulled out the small box he had tucked inot his robest just before coming to see her. Her heart pounded so loud in her ears that she could hardly hear him, but she knew. He opened the box, and she started to cry again.
Once she'd managed to actually choke out her answer, he set himself between her knees so she was close enough to kiss. He slid the ring onto her finger between kisses. He told her the long story of the ring between deeper kisses. He told her of the war between caresses. And then, he stopped talking at all and carried her to the secluded corner of the common room where they had shared so many kisses before the war.
Hesitant touches turned bold, and then touches turned to more. Neither of them cared that someone might come in and catch them, but they were blessed by their friends, as always. Harry, Ron and 'Mione had arrived with Neville and were busy regaling the whole of the student body with war stories to keep everyone occupied. They knew Neville's plan to propose, and were determined to give him time to follow through with it. It was time Ginny and Neville used well and thouroughly.
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